the adventures of don lavington, by george manville fenn. ________________________________________________________________________ lindon, known as don, is a boy in his late teens who has left school, and who lives with his mother and uncle josiah, his father being dead, and works as a clerk in the office, the business being sugar and tobacco importation, in bristol, england, which he does not much like. one day some money is missing from the office. it's pretty obvious who the thief is, but uncle josiah continues to accuse don. another worker has a row with his new young wife, and don and he (jem) decide to go away for a bit, both feeling rather ill-used. unfortunately they are taken that night by the press-gang, and after some attempts to get away, they sail away to new zealand. here they manage to escape from the ship, though the search for them is keen. they fall in with some maoris, among whom lives an englishman, who is actually an escaped convict, but a good chap nonetheless. they assist the maoris in their own battles against other tribes. the scene turns to some english settlers. they become friendly with our heroes. a maori tribe attacks then, having been set up to do so by three villains, who have also escaped from the convict settlement at norfolk island. they hold their own, but there is a timely intervention by the police. one of the three villains turn out to have been the man who actually stole the money from uncle josiah's office. from this point things begin to turn out for the better, and the two heroes return to england, and all is forgiven. nh ________________________________________________________________________ the adventures of don lavington, by george manville fenn. chapter one. four folk o' bristol city. "mind your head! crikey! that was near, 'nother inch, and you'd ha' crushed him like an eggshell." "well, you told me to lower down." "no, i didn't, stupid." "yes, you did." "no, i didn't. you're half tipsy, or half asleep, or--" "there, there, hold your tongue, jem. i'm not hurt, and mike thought you said lower away. that's enough." "no, it arn't enough, mas' don. your uncle said i was to soop'rintend, and a nice row there'd ha' been when he come back if you hadn't had any head left." "wouldn't have mattered much, jem. nobody would have cared." "nobody would ha' cared? come, i like that. what would your mother ha' said to me when i carried you home, and told her your head had been scrunched off by a sugar-cask?" "you're right, mas' don. nobody wouldn't ha' cared. you aren't wanted here. why don't you strike for liberty, my lad, and go and make your fortun' in furren parts?" "same as you have, mike bannock? now just you look ye here. if ever i hears you trying to make master don unsettled again, and setting him agen his work, i tells mr chris'mas, and no begging won't get you back on again. fortun' indeed! why, you ragged, penny-hunting, lazy, drunken rub-shoulder, you ought to be ashamed of yourself!" "and i arn't a bit, jem wimble, not a bit. never you mind him, master don, you strike for freedom. make your uncle give you your father's money, and then off you goes like a man to see life." "now lookye here," cried the sturdy, broad-faced young fellow who had first spoken, as he picked up a wooden lever used for turning over the great sugar-hogsheads lying in the yard, and hoisting them into a trolly, or beneath the crane which raised them into the warehouse. "lookye here, mike bannock, i never did knock a man down with this here wooden bar, but if you gets stirring mas' don again, has it you do, right across the back. spang!" "be quiet, jem, and put the bar down," said lindon lavington, a dark, well set-up lad of seventeen, as he sat upon the head of a sugar-hogshead with his arms folded, slowly swinging his legs. "no, i sha'n't put the bar down, mas' don. your uncle left me in charge of the yard, and--what yer sitting on the sugar-barrel for when there's a 'bacco hogshead close by? now just you feel how sticky you are." don got off the barrel, and made a face, as he proved with one hand the truth of the man's words, and then rubbed his treacly fingers against the warehouse wall. "your mother'll make a row about that, just as my sally does when i get molasses on my clothes." "you should teach her to lick it off, jemmy wimble," said the rough-looking, red-faced labourer, who had lowered down a sugar-hogshead so rapidly, that he had been within an inch of making it unnecessary to write don lavington's life, from the fact of there being no life to write. "you mind your own business, mike," said jem, indignantly. "that's what i'm a-doing of, and a-waiting for orders, mr jem wimble. he's hen-pecked, mas' don, that what's the matter with him. been married only three months, and he's hen-pecked. haw-haw-haw! poor old cock-bird! hen-pecked! haw-haw-haw!" jem wimble, general worker in the warehouse and yard of josiah christmas, west india merchant, of river street, bristol, gave mike the labourer an angry look, as he turned as red as a blushing girl. "lookye here," he cried angrily, as don, who had reseated himself, this time on a hogshead crammed full of compressed tobacco-leaves from baltimore, swung his legs, and looked on in a half-moody, half-amused way; "the best thing that could happen for christmas' ward and for bristol city, would be for the press-gang to get hold o' you, and take you off to sea." "haw-haw-haw!" laughed the swarthy, red-faced fellow. "why don't you give 'em the word, and have me pressed?" "no coming back to be begged on then by miss kitty and mas' don, after being drunk for a week. you're a bad 'un, that's what you are, mike bannock, and i wish the master wouldn't have you here." "not such a hard nut as you are, jemmy," said the man with a chuckle. "sailors won't take me--don't want cripples to go aloft. lookye here, mas' don, there's a leg." as he spoke, the great idle-looking fellow limped slowly, with an exaggerated display of lameness, to and fro past the door of the office. "get out, mike," said don, as the man stopped. "i believe that's nearly all sham." "that's a true word, mas' don," cried jem. "he's only lame when he thinks about it. and now do please go on totting up, and let's get these casks shifted 'fore your uncle comes back." "well, i'm waiting, jem," cried the lad, opening a book he had under his arm, and in which a pencil was shut. "i could put down fifty, while you are moving one." "that's all right, sir; that's all right. i only want to keep things straight, and not have your uncle rowing you when he comes back. seems to me as life's getting to be one jolly row. what with my sally at home, and your uncle here, and you always down in the mouth, and mike not sticking to his work, things is as miserable as mizzar." "he's hen-pecked, that's what he is," chuckled mike, going to the handle of the crane. "poor old jemmy! hen-pecked, that's what's the matter with him." "let him alone, mike," said don quietly. "right, mas' don," said the man; "but if i was you," he murmured hoarsely, as jem went into the warehouse, "i'd strike for liberty. i knows all about it. when your mother come to live with your uncle she give him all your father's money, and he put it into the business. i know. i used to work here when you first come, only a little un, and a nice little un you was, just after your poor father died." don's brow wrinkled as he looked searchingly at the man. "you've a right to half there is here, mas' don; but the old man's grabbing of it all for his gal, miss kitty, and has made your mother and you reg'lar servants." "it is not true, mike. my uncle has behaved very kindly to my mother and me. he has invested my money, and given me a home when i was left an orphan." "_kick_!" that is the nearest approach to the sound of mike's derisive laugh, one which made the lad frown and dart at him an angry look. "why, who told you that, my lad?" "my mother, over and over again." "ah, poor thing, for the sake o' peace and quietness. don't you believe it, my lad. you've been werry kind to me, and begged me on again here when i've been 'most starving, and many's the shillin' you've give me, mas' don, to buy comforts, or i wouldn't say to you what i does now, and werry welcome a shilling would be to-day, mas' don." "i haven't any money, mike." "got no money, my lad? what a shame, when half of all this here ought to be yourn. oh dear, what a cruel thing it seems! i'm very sorry for you, mas' don, that i am, 'specially when i think of what a fine dashing young fellow like--" "don't humbug, mike." "nay, not i, my lad; 'tarn't likely. you know it's true enough. you're one of the young fellows as is kep' out of his rights. i know what i'd do if i was you." "what?" "not be always rubbing my nose again a desk. go off to one o' them bu'ful foreign countries as i've told you of, where there's gold and silver and dymons, and birds jus' like 'em; and wild beasts to kill, and snakes as long as the main mast. ah! i've seen some sights in furren abroad, as what i've told you about's like nothing to 'em. look here, mas' don, shall i stop on for an hour and tell you what i've seen in south america?" "no, no, mike; my uncle doesn't like you to be with me." "ah, and well i knows it. 'cause i tells you the truth and he feels guilty, mas' don." "and--and it only unsettles me," cried the boy with a despairing look in his eyes. "get on with your work, and i must get on with mine." "ah, to be sure," said the scoundrel with a sneer. "work, work, work. you and me, mas' don, is treated worse than the black niggers as cuts the sugar-canes down, and hoes the 'bacco in the plantations. i'm sorry for you." lindon lavington thrust his little account book in his breast, and walked hurriedly in the direction taken by the man jem, entering directly after a low warehouse door, where rows of sugar-hogsheads lay, and there was a murmur and buzz made by the attracted flies. mike bannock stood with his hands clasping the handle of the crane winch against which he leaned without moving, but his eyes were hard at work. he followed don with them till he had disappeared through the low dark doorway, then glanced at the closed gate leading into the busy street, and then at the open office door, a few yards away. all was still, save the buzzing of the flies about the casks on that hot midsummer's day, and without the trace of a limp, the man stepped rapidly into the office, but only to dart back again in alarm, for, all at once, there was a loud rattling noise of straps, chains, and heavy harness. there was no cause for alarm. it was only the fat, sleepy horse in the trolly shafts, who, at the same time that he gave his nosebag a toss, shook himself violently to get rid of the flies which preferred his juices to the sugar oozing from many a hogshead's seams. mike darted into the office again; the flies buzzed; the horse munched oats; the faint sound of don's voice in converse with jem wimble could he heard; then there was a faint click as if a desk had been shut down softly, and mike stepped out again, gave a hasty glance round, and the next moment was standing dreamily with his eyes half-closed, grasping the handle of the crane winch as don returned, closely followed by jem wimble. "now, mas' don, i'll just mark another," said jem, "and we'll have him out." he took a lump of chalk from a ledge close by, and ascended a step ladder to a door about six feet above the spot where mike stood, and don stood with his book under his arm, his brow rugged, and a thoughtful look in his eyes. just then the small door in the yard gate was opened, and a sturdy-looking grey-haired man in snuff-coloured coat and cocked hat, drab breeches and gaiters, entered unseen by the pair, who had their backs to him. "i 'member, mas' don, when i were out in the _mary anne_ five year ago. we'd got to pannymah, when the skipper stood with his glass to his eye, looking at a strange kind o' hobjick ashore, and he says to me, `mike, my lad--'" "you idle scoundrel! how many more times am i to tell you that i will not have my time wasted over those lying stories of yours? lindon, am i ever to be able to trust you when business takes me away?" the words came in short sharp tones, and the speaker's dark eyes seemed to flash. the effect was marvellous. mike began to turn the handle at a rapid rate, winding up the rope till the pair of hooks used for grasping the great hogsheads rattled with their chains against the pulley wheels of the crane, and a shout came from the warehouse,-- "whatcher doing of? hold hard!" "stop, sir!" cried the stern-looking man to mike, just as jem appeared at the upper doorway and looked down. "oh!" he ejaculated. "didn't know as you was there, sir." "it is disgraceful, lindon. the moment my back is turned you leave your desk to come and waste the men's time. i am ashamed of you." lindon's forehead grew more wrinkled as josiah christmas, merchant of bristol city, and his maternal uncle, walked into the office, whither the lad followed slowly, looking stubborn and ill-used, for mike bannock's poison was at work, and in his youthful ignorance and folly, he felt too angry to attempt a frank explanation. in fact, just then one idea pervaded his mind--two ideas--that his uncle was a tyrant, and that he ought to strike against his tyranny and be free. chapter two. blind as bats. that same evening don lavington did not walk home with his uncle, but hung back to see jem wimble lock-up, and then sauntered slowly with him toward the little low house by the entrance gates, where the yard-man, as he was called, lived in charge. jem had been in the west india merchant's service from a boy, and no one was more surprised than he when on the death of old topley, josiah christmas said to him one morning,-- "wimble, you had better take poor old topley's place." "and--and take charge of the yard, sir?" "yes. i can trust you, can't i?" "oh, yes, sir; but--" "ah! yes. you have no wife to put in the cottage." jem began to look foolish, and examine the lining of his hat. "well, sir, if it comes to that," he faltered; and there was a weak comical aspect in his countenance which made don burst out laughing. "i know, uncle," he cried, "he has got a sweetheart." "well, master don," said the young man, colouring up; "and nothing to be ashamed on neither." "certainly not," said the merchant quietly. "you had better get married, wimble, and you can have the cottage. i will buy and lend you old topley's furniture." wimble begged pardon afterwards, for on hearing all this astounding news, he rushed out of the office, pulled off his leather apron, put on his coat as he ran, and disappeared for an hour, at the end of which time he returned, went mysteriously up to don and whispered,-- "it's all right, sir; she says she will." the result was that jem wimble looked twice as important, and cocked his cocked hat on one side, for he had ten shillings a week more, and the furnished cottage, kept the keys, kept the men's time, and married a wife who bore a most extraordinary likeness to a pretty little bantam hen. this was three months before the scene just described, but though jem spoke in authoritative tones to the men, it was with bated breath to his little wife, who was standing in the doorway looking as fierce as a kitten, when jem walked up in company with his young master. "which i will not find fault before master lindon, jem," she said; "but you know i do like you to be home punctual to tea." "yes, my dear, of course, of course," said jem, apologetically. "not much past time, and had to shut up first." "that's what you always say when you're late. you don't know, master don, what a life he leads me." "'tain't true, master don," cried jem. "she's always a-wherritting me." "now i appeal to master don: was it me, sir, as was late? there's the tea ready, and the bread and butter cut, and the watercresses turning limp, and the flies getting at the s'rimps. it arn't your fault, sir, i know, and i'm not grumbling, but there never was such a place as this for flies." "it's the sugar, sally," said don, who had sauntered aimlessly in with jem, and as he stared round the neat little kitchen with the pleasant meal all ready, he felt as if he should like to stay to tea instead of going home. "yes, it's the sugar, sir, i know; and you'd think it would sweeten some people's temper, but it don't." "which if it's me you mean, and you're thinking of this morning--" "which i am, jem, and you ought to be ashamed. you grumbled over your breakfast, and you reg'larly worried your dinner, and all on account of a button." "well, then, you should sew one on. when a man's married he does expect to find buttons on his clean shirts." "yes, and badly enough you want 'em, making 'em that sticky as you do." "i can't help that; it's only sugar." "only sugar indeed! and if it was my last words i'd say it--there _was_ a button on the neck." "well, i know that," cried jem; "and what's the good of a button being on, if it comes off directly you touch it? is it any good, mas' don?" "oh, don't ask me," cried the lad, half-amused, half annoyed, and wishing they'd ask him to tea. "he dragged it off, master don." "i didn't." "you did, jem, and you know you did, just to aggravate me." "wasn't half sewn on." "it was. i can't sew your buttons on with copper wire." "you two are just like a girl and boy," cried don. "here you have everything comfortable about you, and a good place, and you're always quarrelling." "well, it's his fault, sir." "no, sir, it's her'n." "it's both your faults, and you ought to be ashamed of yourselves." "i'm not," said sally; "and i wish i'd never seen him." "and i'm sure i wish the same," said jem despondently. "i never see such a temper." "there, master don," cried the droll-looking little dutch doll of a woman. "that's how he is always going on." "there, jem, now you've made your poor little wife cry. you are the most discontented fellow i ever saw." "come, i like that, master don; you've a deal to brag about, you have. why, you're all at sixes and sevens at home." this was such a home thrust that don turned angrily and walked out of the place. "there!" cried sally. "i always knew how it would be. master don was the best friend we had, and now you've offended him, and driven him away." "shouldn't ha' said nasty things then," grumbled jem, sitting down and attacking his tea. "now he'll go straight to his uncle and tell him what a man you are." "let him," said jem, with his mouth full of bread and butter. "and of course you'll lose your place, and we shall be turned out into the street to starve." "will you be quiet, sally? how's a man to eat his tea with you going on like that?" "turned out into the world without a chance of getting another place. oh! it's too bad. why did i ever marry such a man as you?" "'cause you were glad of the chance," grumbled jem, raising his hand to pour out some tea, but it was pushed aside indignantly, and the little woman busily, but with a great show of indignation, filled and sweetened her husband's cup, which she dabbed down before him, talking all the while, and finishing with,-- "you ought to be ashamed of yourself, jem." "i am," he grumbled. "ashamed that i was ever such a stupid as to marry a girl who's always dissatisfied. nice home you make me." "and a nice home you make me, sir; and don't eat your victuals so fast. it's like being at the wild beast show." "that's right; go on," grumbled jem, doubling his rate of consumption. "grudge me my meals now. good job if we could undo it all, and be as we was." "i wish we could," cried the little woman, whose eyes seemed to say that her lips were not telling the truth. "so do i," cried jem, tossing off his third cup of tea; and then to his little wife's astonishment he took a thick slice of bread and butter in each hand, clapped them together as if they were cymbals, rose from the table and put on his hat. "where are you going, jem?" "out." "what for?" "to eat my bread and butter down on the quay." "but why, jem?" "'cause there's peace and quietness there." _bang_! went the door, and little mrs wimble stood gazing at it angrily for a few moments before sitting down and having what she called "a good cry," after which she rose, wiped her eyes, and put away the tea things without partaking of any herself. "poor jem!" she said softly; "i'm afraid i'm very unkind to him sometimes." just at that moment jem was sitting on an empty cask, eating his bread and butter, and watching a boat manned by blue-jackets going off to the sloop of war lying out toward the channel, and flying her colours in the evening breeze. "poor little sally!" he said to himself. "we don't seem to get on somehow, and i'm afraid i'm a bit rough to her; but knives and scissors! what a temper she have got." meanwhile, in anything but a pleasant frame of mind, don had gone home to find that the tea was ready, and that he was being treated as a laggard. "come, lindon," said his uncle quietly, "you have kept us waiting some time." the lad glanced quickly round the well-furnished room, bright with curiosities brought in many a voyage from the west, and with the poison of mike's words still at work, he wondered how much of what he saw rightfully belonged to him. the next moment his eyes lit on the soft sweet troubled face of his mother, full of appeal and reproach, and it seemed to don that his uncle had been upsetting her by an account of his delinquencies. "it's top bad, and i don't deserve it," he said to himself. "everything seems to go wrong now. well, what are you looking at?" he added, to himself, as he took his seat and stared across at his cousin, the playmate of many years, whose quiet little womanly face seemed to repeat her father's grave, reproachful look, but who, as it were, snatched her eyes away as soon as she met his gaze. "they all hate me," thought don, who was in that unhappy stage of a boy's life when help is so much needed to keep him from turning down one of the dark side lanes of the great main route. "been for a walk, don?" said his mother with a tender look. "no, mother, i only stopped back in the yard a little while." his uncle set down his cup sharply. "you have not been keeping that scoundrel bannock?" he cried. "no, sir; i've been talking to jem." "ho!" ejaculated the old merchant. "that's better. but you might have come straight home." don's eyes encountered his cousin kitty's just then, as she gave her head a shake to throw back the brown curls which clustered about her white forehead. she turned her gaze upon her plate, and he could see that she was frowning. "yes," thought don, "they all dislike me, and i'm only a worry and trouble to my mother. i wish i was far away--anywhere." he went on with his tea moodily and in silence, paying no heed to the reproachful glances of his mother's eyes, which seemed to him to say, and with some reason, "don't be sulky, don, my boy; try and behave as i could wish." "it's of no use to try," he said to himself; and the meal passed off very silently, and with a cold chill on every one present. "i'm very sorry, laura," said her brother, as soon as don had left the room; "and i don't know what to do for the best. i hate finding fault and scolding, but if the boy is in the wrong i must chide." "try and be patient with him, josiah," said mrs lavington pleadingly. "he is very young yet." "patient? i'm afraid i have been too patient. that scoundrel at the yard has unsettled him with his wild tales of the sea; and if i allowed it, don would make him quite a companion." "but, josiah--" "there, don't look like that, my dear. i promised you i would play a father's part to the boy, and i will; but you must not expect me to be a weak indulgent father, and spoil him with foolish lenity. there, enough for one day. i daresay we shall get all right in time." "oh, yes," cried mrs lavington, earnestly. "he's a true-hearted, brave boy; don't try to crush him down." "crush him, nonsense!" cried the merchant, angrily. "you really are too bad, laura, and--" he stopped, for just then don re-entered the room to flush up angrily as he saw his mother in tears; and he had heard enough of his uncle's remark and its angry tone to make him writhe. "ill using her now," he said to himself, as he set his teeth and walked to the window. the closing of the door made him start round quickly, to find that his mother was close behind him, and his uncle gone. "what has uncle jos been saying to you, mother?" he cried angrily. "nothing--nothing particular, my boy," she faltered. "he has," cried don fiercely; "and i won't have it. he may scold and abuse me as much as he likes, but i will not have him ill use you." "ill use me, don?" cried mrs lavington. "nonsense, my dear boy. your uncle is all that is kind and good; and he loves you very dearly, don, if you could only try--try a little more, my dear boy, to do what he likes, and please him." "i do try, mother, but it's no good." "don't say that, don. try a little harder--for my sake, dear, as well as your own." "i have tried, i am always trying, and it's of no use. nothing pleases uncle, and the men in the yard know it." "don, my boy, what foolish obstinate fit is this which has come over you?" said mrs lavington tenderly. "i'm not obstinate," he said sullenly; "only unhappy." "is it not your own fault, my darling?" she whispered; "believe me, your uncle is one of the kindest and best of men." don shook his head. "are you going to prefer the opinion of the men of the yard to mine, dear?" "no, mother, but uncle is your brother, and you believe in him and defend him. you know how harsh and unkind he is to me." "not unkind, don, only firm and for your good. now come, my boy, do, for my sake, try to drive away these clouds, and let us all be happy once more." "it's of no use to try, mother; i shall never be happy here, tied down to a desk. it's like being uncle's slave." "what am i to say to you, don, if you talk like this?" said mrs lavington. "believe me you are wrong, and some day you will own it. you will see what a mistaken view you have taken of your uncle's treatment. there, i shall say no more now." "you always treat me as if i were a child," said don, bitterly. "i'm seventeen now, mother, and i ought to know something." "yes, my boy," said mrs lavington gently; "at seventeen we think we know a good deal; and at forty we smile as we look back and see what a very little that `good deal' was." don shook his head. "there, we will have no more sad looks. uncle is eager to do all he can to make us happy." "i wish i could think so," cried don, bitterly. "you may, my dear. and now, come, try and throw aside all those fanciful notions about going abroad and meeting with adventures. there is no place like home, don, and you will find out some day that is true." "but i have no home till i make one," said the lad gloomily. "you have an excellent home here, don, the gift of one who has kindly taken the place toward you of your father. there, i will listen to no more from you, for this is all foolish fighting of your worse against your better self." there was a quiet dignity in his mother's words which awed don for the moment, but the gentle embrace given the next minute seemed to undo that which the firmness had achieved, and that night the cloud over the lad's life seemed darker than ever. "she takes uncle's side and thinks he is everything," he said gloomily, as he went to bed. "she means right, but she is wrong. oh, how i wish i could go right away somewhere and begin life all over again." then he lay down to sleep, but slumber did not come, so he went on thinking of many things, to fall into a state of unconsciousness at last, from which he awoke to the fact that it was day--a very eventful day for him, but he did not awaken to the fact that he was very blind. chapter three. an awkward guinea. it was a busy day at the yard, for a part of the lading of a sugar ship was being stored away in uncle josiah's warehouses; but from the very commencement matters seemed to go wrong, and the state of affairs about ten o'clock was pretty ably expressed by jem wimble, who came up to don as he was busy with pencil and book, keeping account of the deliveries, and said in a loud voice,-- "what did your uncle have for breakfast, mas' don?" "coffee--ham--i hardly know, jem." "ho! thought p'r'aps it had been cayenne pepper." "nonsense!" "ah, you may say that, but see how he is going it. 'tarn't my fault that the dock men work so badly, and 'tarn't my fault that mike isn't here, and--" "don't stand talking to wimble, lindon," said a voice sharply, and uncle josiah came up to the pair. "no, don't go away, wimble. did bannock say he should stay away to-day?" "not to me, uncle." "nor to me, sir." "it's very strange, just as we are so busy too. he has not drawn any money." "p'r'aps press-gang's got him, sir," suggested jem. "humph! hardly likely!" said uncle josiah; and he went on and entered the office, to come out at the end of a few minutes and beckon to don. "lindon," he said, as the lad joined him, "i left nine guineas and a half in the little mahogany bowl in my desk yesterday. whom have you paid?" "paid? no one, sir." "but eight guineas are gone--missing." "eight guineas? missing, sir?" "yes, do you know anything about them?" "no, sir. i--that is--yes, i remember now: i picked up a guinea on the floor, and meant to give it to you. here it is: i forgot all about it." don took a piece of gold from his flap waistcoat pocket, and handed it to his uncle, who looked at him so curiously that the boy grew confused. "picked this up on the floor, lindon?" said uncle josiah. "yes, sir. it had rolled down by my desk." "it is very strange," said uncle josiah, thoughtfully. "well, that leaves seven missing. you had better look round and see if you can find them." don felt uncomfortable, he hardly knew why; but it seemed to him that his uncle looked at him doubtingly, and this brought a feeling of hot indignation into the boy's brain. he turned quickly, however, entered the office, and with his uncle looking on, searched all over the floor. "well?" "there's nothing here, sir. of course not," cried don eagerly; "mrs wimble sweeps up every morning, and if there had been she would have found it." uncle josiah lifted off his cocked hat, and put it on again wrong way first. "this is a very unpleasant affair, lindon," he said. "i can afford to lose seven guineas, or seven hundred if it came to that, but i can't afford to lose confidence in those whom i employ." don felt hot and cold as his uncle walked to the door and called jem; and as he waited he looked at the map of an estate in the west indies, all fly-specked and yellow, then at the portraits of three merchant vessels in full sail, all as yellow and fly-specked as the map, and showing the peculiarity emphasised by the ingenious artist, of their sails blown out one way and their house flags another. "surely uncle can't suspect me," he said to himself; and then the thought came again--"surely uncle can't suspect me." "come in here, wimble," said uncle josiah, very sternly. jem took off his hat, and followed him into the office. "some money is missing from my desk, wimble. have you seen it?" "me, sir?" said jem, stooping down and peering in all directions under the desks. "no, sir, i harn't seen it. let's see, i don't think i've been here only when i locked up." "by some mischance i left my desk unlocked when i went out in a hurry yesterday. lindon here has found one piece on the floor." "p'r'aps tothers is there, too," said jem eagerly. "no; we have looked. call your wife. perhaps she may have found them when sweeping." "not she, sir," said jem. "if she had she'd ha' told me. 'sides, how could they ha' got on the floor?" "that remains to be proved, wimble," said uncle josiah, drily. "call your wife." jem went to the door, rubbing his ear, and as it happened, seeing his wife outside the cottage, telegraphed to her to come by working one arm about furiously. little mrs wimble came up in a hurry, looking scared. "take off that there dirty apron," whispered jem, making a dash at the offending garment, and snatching back his hand bleeding from the scratch of the pin by which it was fastened. "look at that," he began. "then you shouldn't--" "silence!" said uncle josiah. "mrs wimble, did you sweep up this room to-day?" "that i did, sir, and dusted too, and if there's any dust, it must be an--" "hush! don't talk so. listen to me. did you find any money on the floor?" "sakes alive, sir, no." "you are quite sure?" "oh yes, sir, quite sure. have you dropped anything?" "yes! no! that will do." mrs wimble stared. "don't you hear?" whispered jem. "be off!" the little woman gave him an angry look, and then hurried from the office, looking put out and hurt. "this money must be found," said uncle josiah sternly, as soon as they were alone. "you are sure that you have seen no more, lindon?" "quite, uncle. i'm sorry i forgot about the guinea i found." "yes!" said uncle josiah, giving him a quick searching look. "you are quite certain, wimble?" "me, sir? oh, yes; i'm moral sartain." "i should be sorry to suspect any one, and behave unjustly, but i must have this matter cleared up. michael bannock is away, and i cannot conceive his being absent without money, unless he is ill. wimble, go and see." "yes, sir," said the yard-man, with alacrity; and he went off shaking his head, as if all this was a puzzle beyond his capacity to comprehend. "you had better go to your desk, lindon," said uncle josiah, coldly. don started, and mounted his stool, but he could not write. his brain was confused; and from time to time he glanced at the stern-looking old merchant, and tried to grasp his thoughts. "surely uncle can't suspect me--surely he can't suspect me!" he found himself saying again, and the trouble seemed to increase till he felt as if he must speak out and say how sorry he was that he had picked up the money and forgotten all about it, when jem returned. "he arn't ill, sir," said the man eagerly, "i found him close by, at the little half moon, in the back street." "drinking?" "yes, sir, and treating a lot of his mates. he wanted me to have some, and when i wouldn't, he said i should, and emptied half a glass over me. see here." he held up one of his broad skirts which was liberally splashed. uncle josiah frowned, and took a turn or two up and down the office. then he stopped before jem. "go round to smithers the constable. you know: the man who came when the rum was broached." "yes, sir, i know." "ask smithers to bring michael bannock round here. i must clear this matter up." "yes, sir," said jem; and he hurried out, while don drew a long breath. "uncle does not suspect me," he said to himself. "the scoundrel! he must have taken advantage of your back being turned to come in here. you did not notice anything, lindon?" "no, uncle, and i hardly think he could have been left alone." "but the money is missing; some of it was dropped; this man is always penniless; he has not drawn his wages, and yet he is half tipsy and treating his companions. i hope i am not suspecting him wrongfully, but it looks bad, lindon, it looks bad." the old merchant sat down and began to write. so did don, who felt better now, and the time glided on till there were the sounds of feet heard in the yard, and directly after mike, looking very red-eyed and flushed, entered the office, half pushed in by jem wimble and a hard-faced ugly man, who had a peculiar chip out of, or dent in, his nose. "morn', master," said mike, boisterously. "couldn't yer get on without yer best man i' th' yard?" "silence, sir!" cried uncle josiah, turning round, and glaring magisterially at the culprit. "take yer hat off, can't yer?" cried jem, knocking it off for him, and then picking it up and handing it. "give man time, jem wimble," said mike, with a grimace. "want to pay me what you owes me, master?" "hold your tongue, sir! and listen. constable, a sum of money has been abstracted from my desk, and this man, who i believe was penniless two days ago, is now staying away from his work treating his friends." "steady, master; on'y having a glass." "he was paying for ale with a guinea when i fetched him out, sir," said the constable. "now, mike, you're wanted for another ugly job, so you may as well clear yourself of this if you can." "what yer mean with your ugly job?" said the man, laughing. "you'll know soon enough; you and four more are in trouble. now then, what money have you got on you?" "none 'tall." "out with it." "well, only two o' these. i did have three," grumbled the man, reluctantly taking out a couple of guineas from his pocket. "looks bad, sir," said the constable. "now then, where did you get them?" "what's that to you?" "enough for mr christmas to charge you with robbing his desk, my lad; and this and what i've got against you will send you to botany bay." "what, me? rob a good master? not a penny." "what have you done with the rest?" continued the constable. "never had no more, and wouldn't have had that if i'd knowed." "this will do, sir," said the constable. "you charge him here with stealing money from your desk?" "i am afraid i must," said uncle josiah. "what, me? charge me?" cried the man, angrily. "yes, bannock, reluctantly; but it seems that you are the thief." "no: not me!" cried the man, fiercely. "it warn't me. it was him." don started and turned pale, as the man stood pointing at him. "what do you mean?" cried uncle josiah. "mean? why, i ketched him a-helping hisself to the money, and he give me three guineas to hold my tongue." "what?" "and when i wouldn't take 'em he said if i didn't he'd say it was me; and that's the whole truth, and nothing else." "lindon, what have you to say to this?" cried uncle josiah. don thought of the guinea he had picked up, of his uncle's curious look when he gave it to him, and as he turned red and white with terror and dismay, mingled with confusion, he tried to speak, but try how he would, no words would come. chapter four. mike bannock has a ride. "you wretch!" those two words were a long time coming, but when they did escape from lindon's lips, they made up in emphasis and force for their brevity. "steady, master don, steady," said jem, throwing his arms round the boy's waist, and holding him back. "you arn't strong enough to fight him." "wretch? oh! well, i like that. why, some men would ha' gone straight to your uncle here, and told him all about it; but i didn't, and i'd made up my mind to send him the money back, only i met two or three mates, and i had to change one of 'em to give the poor lads a drink o' ale." "you own, then, that you had my money, sir?" cried the old merchant. "well--some on it, master. he give it me. s'pose i oughtn't to have took it, but i didn't like to come and tell you, and get the poor lad into trouble. he's so young, you see." "uncle, it is not true!" cried lindon, excitedly. "but you had one of the guineas in your pocket, sir." "yes, uncle, but--" "course he had," interrupted mike sharply. "i told you it wouldn't do, master don. i begged you not to." "you villain!" cried don, grinding his teeth, while his uncle watched him with a sidelong look. "calling names won't mend it, my lad. i knowed it was wrong. i telled him not to, sir, but he would." this was to the constable in a confidential tone, and that functionary responded with a solemn wink. "it is not true, uncle!" cried don again. "oh, come now," said mike, shaking his head with half tipsy reproach, "i wouldn't make worse on it, my lad, by telling a lot o' lies. you did wrong, as i says to you at the time; but you was so orbst'nate you would. says as you'd got such lots of money, master, as you'd never miss it." uncle josiah gave vent to a sound resembling a disgusted grunt, and turned from the speaker, who continued reproachfully to don,-- "what you've got to do, my lad, is to go down on your bended knees to your uncle, as is a good master as ever lived--and i will say that, come what may--and ask him to let you off this time, and you won't do so any more." "uncle, you won't believe what he says?" cried don wildly. uncle josiah did not reply, only looked at him searchingly. "he can't help believing it, my lad," said mike sadly. "it's werry shocking in one so young." don made a desperate struggle to free himself from jem's encircling arms, but the man held fast. "no, no, my lad; keep quiet," growled jem. "i'm going to spoil the shape of his nose for him before he goes." "then you don't believe it, jem?" cried don, passionately. "believe it, my lad? why, i couldn't believe it if he swore it 'fore a hundred million magistrits." "no, that's allus the way with higgerant chaps like you, jem wimble," said mike; "but it's all true, genelmen, and i'm sorry i didn't speak out afore like a man, for he don't deserve what i did for him." "hah!" ejaculated uncle josiah, and don's face was full of despair. "you charge mike bannock, then, with stealing this money, sir," said the constable. "yes, certainly." "what?" roared mike, savagely, "charge me?" "that will do," said the constable, taking a little staff with a brass crown on the end from his pocket. "no nonsense, or i shall call in help. in the king's name, my lad. do you give in?" "give in? what for? i arn't done nothing. charge him; he's the thief." don started as if the word _thief_ were a stinging lash. jem loosed his hold, and with double fists dashed at the scoundrel. "you say master don's a thief!" "silence, wimble! stand back, sir," cried uncle josiah, sternly. "but, sir--" "silence, man! am i master here?" jem drew back muttering. "charge him, i say," continued mike, boisterously; "and if you won't, i will. look here, mr smithers, i charge this 'ere boy with going to his uncle's desk and taking all the gold, and leaving all the silver in a little hogamee bowl." "you seem to know all about it, mike," said the constable, grimly. "course i do, my lad. i seed him. caught him in the werry act, and he dropped one o' the guineas, and it run away under the desk, and he couldn't find it." "you saw all that, eh?" said the constable. "every bit of it. i swears to it, sir." "and how came you to be in the office to see it?" "how come i in the office to see it?" said mike, staring; "how come i in the office to see it?" "yes. your work's in the yard, isn't it?" "course it is," said mike, with plenty of effrontery; "but i heerd the money jingling like, and i went in to see." "and very kind of you too, mike," said the constable, jocularly. "don't you forget to tell that to the magistrates." "magistrits? what magistrits? master arn't going to give me in custody, i know." "indeed, but i am, you scoundrel," cried uncle josiah, wrathfully. "you are one of the worst kind of thieves--" "here, take that back, master." "worst kind of scoundrels--dogs who bite the hand that has fed them." "i tell yer it was him," said mike, with a ferocious glare at don. "all right, mike, you tell the magistrates that," said the constable, "and don't forget." "i arn't going 'fore no magistrits," grumbled mike. "yes, you are," said the constable, taking a pair of handcuffs from his pocket. "now then, is it to be quietly?" mike made a furious gesture. "just as you like," said the constable. "jem wimble, i call you in the king's name to help." "which i just will," cried jem, with alacrity; and he made at mike, while don felt a strange desire tingling in his veins as he longed to help as well. "i gives in," growled mike. "i could chuck the whole lot on you outer winder, but i won't. it would only make it seem as if i was guilty, and it's not guilty, and so i tell you. master says i took the money, and i says it was that young don lavington as is the thief. come on, youngster. i'll talk to you when we're in the lock-up." don looked wildly from mike to his uncle, whose eyes were fixed on the constable. "do you charge the boy too, sir?" uncle josiah was silent for some moments. "no! not now!" lindon's heart leapt at that word "_no_!" but it sank again at the "_not now_." "but the case is awkward, sir," said the constable. "after what this man has said we shall be obliged to take some notice of the matter." "'bliged to? course you will. here, bring 'im along. come on, mate. i can tell you stories all night now about my bygones. keep up yer sperrits, and i daresay the magistrits 'll let you off pretty easy." "if there is any charge made against my young clerk,"--don winced, for his uncle did not say, "against my nephew,"--"i will be answerable for his appearance before the magistrates. that will be sufficient, i presume." "yes, sir, i suppose that will do," said the constable. "but i s'pose it won't," said mike. "he's the monkey and i'm only the cat. you've got to take him if you does your dooty, and master 'll be answerable for me." "exactly," said the constable; "come along." "nay, but this arn't fair, master. take one, take all. you bring us both." "come along." "if you don't bring that there young un too, i won't go," exclaimed the scoundrel, fiercely. _click_! a short struggle, and then _click_ again, and mike bannock's hands were useless, but he threw himself down. "fair play, fair play," he cried, savagely; "take one, take all. are you going to charge him, master?" "take the scoundrel away, smithers, and once more i will be bail--before the magistrates, if necessary--for my clerk's appearance," cried uncle josiah, who was now out of patience. "can i help?" "well, sir, you could," said the constable, grimly; "but if you'd have in three or four of your men, and a short step ladder, we could soon carry him off." "no man sha'n't carry me off," roared mike, as jem ran out of the office with great alacrity, and returned in a very short time with three men and a stout ladder, about nine feet long. "that's the sort, wimble," said the constable. "didn't think of a rope, did you?" "did i think of two ropes?" said jem, grinning. "ah!" ejaculated the constable. "now, mike bannock, i just warn you that any violence will make your case worse. take my advice, get up and come quietly." "take young don lavington too, then, and i will." "get up, and walk quietly." "not 'less you takes him." "sorry to make a rumpus, sir," said the constable, apologetically; "but i must have him out." "the sooner the better," said uncle josiah, grimly. "i am ready to go, uncle," said don, quietly. "i am not afraid." "hold your tongue, sir!" said the merchant, sternly; "and stand out of the way." "now, mike," said the constable, "this is the third time of asking. will you come quiet?" "take him too," cried mike. "ready with those ropes, wimble. you two, ready with that there. now, mike bannock, you've been asked three times, and now you've got to mount that ladder." "any man comes a-nigh me," roared mike, "i'll--" he did not say what, for the constable dashed at him, and by an ingenious twist avoided a savage kick, threw the scoundrel over on his face, as he lay on the floor, and sat upon him, retaining his seat in spite of his struggles. "step the first," said the constable, coolly. "now, wimble, i want that ladder passed under me, so as to lie right along on his back. do you see?" "yes, sir," cried jem, eagerly; and taking the ladder as the constable sat astride the prostrate scoundrel, holding down his shoulders, and easing himself up, the ladder was passed between the officer's legs, and, in spite of a good deal of heaving, savage kicking, and one or two fierce attempts to bite, right along till it was upon mike's back, projecting nearly two feet beyond his head and feet. "murder!" yelled mike, hoarsely. "what? does it hurt, my lad? never mind; you'll soon get used to it." the constable seated himself upon the ladder, whose sides and rounds thoroughly imprisoned the scoundrel in spite of his yells and struggles to get free. "now then, wimble, i've got him. you tie his ankles, one each side, tightly to the ladder, and one of you bind his arms same way to the ladder sides. cut the rope. mr christmas will not mind." the men grinned, and set to work so handily that in a few moments mike was securely bound. "now then," said the constable, "i'll have one round his middle; give me a piece of rope; i'll soon do that." he seized the rope, and, without rising, rapidly secured it to one side of the ladder. "now," he said, "raise that end." this was done, the rope passed under mike, drawn up on the other side, hauled upon till mike yelled for mercy, and then knotted twice. "there, my lads," said the constable, rising; "now turn him over." the ladder was seized, turned, and there lay mike on his back, safely secured. "here, undo these," he said, sullenly. "i'll walk." "too late, mike, my boy. now then, a couple of men head and tail. let the ladder hang at arm's length. best have given in quietly, and not have made yourself a show, mike." "don't i tell you i'll walk?" growled the prisoner. "and let us have all our trouble for nothing? no, my lad, it's too late. ready there! up with him. good morning, sir. march!" the men lent themselves eagerly to the task, for mike was thoroughly disliked; and a few minutes later there was a crowd gathering and following mike bannock as he was borne off, spread-eagled and half tipsy, to ponder on the theft and his chances in the cold damp place known in bristol as the lock-up. don lavington stood in the office, waiting for his uncle to speak. chapter five. a stubborn disposition. "stop!" don had taken his hat, and, seeing his uncle apparently immersed in a letter, was about to yield to his curiosity and follow the constable, when, as he reached the door, his uncle's word thundered out and made him turn and go on with his writing in response to a severe look and a pointing finger. from time to time the boy looked up furtively as he sat, and wondered why his uncle did not say anything more about the money. but the time glided on, and the struggle between his desire to speak out frankly and his indignant wounded pride continued. a dozen times over he was on the point of crossing to the stern-looking old man, and begging him to listen and believe, but uncle josiah sat there with the most uncompromising of expressions on his face, and don dared not speak. he dared not trust himself for very shame, as the incident had so upset him, that he felt sure that he must break down and cry like a child if he attempted to explain. after a time there was the sound of voices talking and laughing, and the click of the heavy latch of the gate. then through the open windows came the deep _burr burr_ of jem's bass, and the shrill inquiring tones of sally wimble, as she eagerly questioned her lord. then there were steps, some of which passed the office door; and don, as he sat with his head bent over a ledger, knew exactly whose steps those were, and where the makers of those steps were going to the different warehouses in the great yard. directly after jem's foot was heard, and he tapped at the door, pushed it a little way, and waited. "come in," said uncle josiah, sharply. jem entered, doffing his cocked hat, and casting a sympathising look at don, who raised his head. then seeing that his employer was deeply immersed in the letter he was writing, jem made a series of gesticulations with his hat, supplemented by some exceedingly queer grimaces, all meant as a kind of silent language, which was very expressive, but quite incomprehensible to don. "well?" said uncle josiah, sharply. "beg pardon, sir! thought you'd like to hear how we got on?" "well?" "went pretty quiet, sir, till we got about half-way there, and then he begun kicking like mad--leastways he didn't kick, because his legs was tied, but he let go all he could, and it was hard work to hold the ladder." "and he is now safely locked up?" "yes, sir, and i've been thinking, sir, as he must have took that money when master don here was up in the warehouse along o' me." "i daresay we shall find all out by-and-by, wimble," said the old merchant, coldly. "that will do, now." jem looked uneasily at don, as he turned his hat round to make sure which was the right way on, and moved slowly toward the door. "which, begging your pardon, sir, you don't think now as--" "well?" said the old merchant, sharply, for jem had stopped. "think as mrs wimble picked up any of the money, sir?" "no, no, my man, of course not." "thankye, sir, i'm glad of that; and if i might make so bold, sir, about master don--" "what do you wish to say, man?" "oh, nothing, sir, only i'm quite sure, sir, as it was all mike bannock's doing, and--" "i think you had better go on with your work, wimble, which you do understand, and not meddle with things that are beyond you." "certainly, sir, certainly," said jem, quickly. "just going, sir;" and giving don a sympathetic look, he hurried out, but had hardly closed the door before he opened it again. "beg pardon, sir, mrs lavington, sir, and miss kitty." don started from his stool, crimson with mortification. his mother! what would uncle josiah say? jem wimble gave don another look full of condolence before he closed the door, leaving mrs lavington and her niece in the office. mrs lavington's face was full of anxiety and care, as she glanced from her son to her brother and back again, while kitty's was as full of indignant reproof as she darted an angry look at don, and then frowned and looked straight down at the floor. "well?" said the old merchant, coldly, "why have you come? you know i do not like you to bring kitty here to the business place." "i--i heard--" faltered mrs lavington, who stood in great awe of her brother when he was in one of his stern moods. "heard? well, what did you hear?" "such terrible news, josiah." "well, well, what?" "oh, my brother!" she exclaimed, wildly, as she stepped forward and caught his hand, "tell me it is not true." "how can i tell you what is not true when i don't know what you are talking about," cried the old man, impatiently. "my dear laura, do you think i have not worries enough without your coming here?" "yes, yes; i know, dear." "and you ought to know that i shall do what is just and right." "i am sure of that, josiah, but i felt obliged to come. kitty and i were out shopping, and we met a crowd." "then you should have turned down a side street." "but they were your men in the midst, and directly after i saw little sally wimble following." "oh, she was, was she?" cried the old man, glad of some one on whom to vent his spleen. "that woman goes. how dare she leave the gates when her husband is out? i shall be having the place robbed again." "yes, that is what she said, josiah--that you had been robbed, and that don--my boy--oh, no, no, no; say it is not true." mrs lavington looked wildly from one to the other, but there was a dead silence, and in a few minutes the poor woman's manner had entirely changed. when she first spoke it was as the timid, shrinking, affectionate woman; now it was as the mother speaking in defence of her child. "i say it is not true," she cried. "you undertook to be a father to my poor boy, and now you charge him with having robbed you." "laura, be calm," said the old merchant, quietly; "and you had better take kitty back home and wait." "you have always been too stern and harsh with the poor boy," continued mrs lavington, without heeding him. "i was foolish ever to come and trust to you. how dare you charge him with such a crime?" "i did not charge him with any crime, my dear laura," said the old merchant, gravely. "then it is not true?" "it is true that i have been robbed, and that the man whom lindon has persisted in making his companion, in spite of all i have said to the contrary, has charged him with the base, contemptible crime of robbing the master who trusted him." "but it is not true, josiah; and that is what you always do, treat my poor boy as if he were your servant instead of your nephew--your sister's boy." "i treat lindon as if he were my son when we are at home," said the old man, quietly. "when we are here at the office i treat him as my clerk, and i trust him to look after my interests, and to defend me from dishonest people." don looked up, and it was on his lips to say, "indeed, uncle, i always have done so," when the old man's next words seemed to chill and harden him. "but instead of doing his duty by me, i have constantly had to reprove him for making a companion of a man whom i weakly, and against my better judgment, allowed in the yard; and the result is i have been robbed, and this man accuses lindon of committing the robbery, and bribing him to silence." "but it is not true, josiah. my son could not be guilty of such a crime." "he will have every opportunity of disproving it before the magistrates," said uncle josiah, coldly. "magistrates!--my boy?" exclaimed mrs lavington, wildly. "oh, no, no, no, brother; you will not proceed to such extremities as these. my boy before the magistrates. impossible!" "the matter is out of my hands, now," said the old merchant, gravely. "i was bound to charge that scoundrel labourer with the theft. i could not tell that he would accuse your son of being the principal in the crime." "but you will stop it now for my sake, dear. don, my boy, why do you not speak, and beg your uncle's forgiveness?" don remained silent, with his brow wrinkled, his chin upon his breast, and a stubborn look of anger in his eyes, as he stood with his hands in his pockets, leaning back against his desk. "do you hear me, don? tell your uncle it is not true, and beg him to help you clear yourself from this disgrace." the lad made no reply, merely crossing his legs, and made his shoe-buckles rasp together as he slowly moved his feet. "don!" he looked up strangely, met his mother's earnest appealing gaze, and for the moment his better nature prevailed; but as he looked from her to his uncle, and saw the old man's grey eyes fixed upon him searchingly, a feeling of obstinate anger swept over him again, and made him set his teeth, as something seemed to whisper to him, "no; you told the truth, and he would not believe you. let him prove you guilty if he can!" it was not the first time in history that a boy had stubbornly fought against his better self, and allowed the worst part of his nature to prevail. "do you not hear me, don?" cried his mother. "why do you not speak?" don remained silent, and kitty, as she looked at him, angrily uttered an impatient ejaculation. "don, my son, for my sake speak to your uncle. do you not hear me?" "yes, mother." "then appeal to him to help you. ask him to forgive you if you have done wrong." "and she believes me guilty, too," thought don, as he scowled at his feet. "but you have not done wrong, my boy. i, your mother, will not believe it of you." don's better self began to force down that side of his mental scale. "you may have been weak and foolish, don, but nothing worse." the evil scale went down now in turn, and with it the foolish, ignorant boy's heart sank low. "come, don." "i've nothing more to say, mother." "nothing more to say!" cried mrs lavington, wildly. "oh, yes, yes, you have much to say, my boy. come, throw away this wilful pride and obstinacy." "i wish i could," thought don one moment. "it is as cruel as it is unjust," he thought the next; and he felt more obstinately full of pride than ever. "don, i command you to speak," said mrs lavington, whose manner now began to change; but unfortunately the stern tone she adopted had the wrong effect, and the wrinkles in the boy's face grew deeper, and the position more strained. if uncle josiah, who had never had boys of his own, had come down from the lofty perch he had assumed, taken the boy's hand, and said in kindly and frank tones, "come, don, my boy, there are troubles enough in life, clouds sufficient to obscure too much sunshine; speak out, let's have all this over, and clear the storm away,"--if he had said something like that, don would have melted, and all would have been well; but accustomed to manage men with an iron rule, uncle josiah had somehow, in spite of his straightforward, manly, and just character, seemed to repel the boy whose charge he had taken, and instead now of making the slightest advance, he said to himself, "it is not my duty to eat humble pie before the obstinate young cub. it will be a severe lesson for him, and will do him good." so the breach widened. don seemed to grow sulky and sullen, when he was longing to cast himself upon his mother's neck. the poor woman felt indignant at her son's conduct, and the last straw which broke the camel's back was laid on the top of the load by kitty, who, moved by a desire to do good, made matters far worse by running across to don, and in an impetuous way catching his hands and kissing him. "don, dear!" she cried. the boy's face lit up. here was some one who would believe him after all, and he responded to her advances by grasping her hands tightly in his. "do, do speak, don dear, and beg father to forgive you," she cried. "tell him it was a mistake, and that you will never do so again." don let fall her hands, the deep scowl came over his brow again, and he half turned away. "no, no, don, dear," she whispered; "pray don't be obstinate. confess that you did it, and promise father to do better in the future. he will forgive you; i know he will." don turned his back with an impatient gesture, and kitty burst into tears, and went slowly to her aunt, to whose hands she clung. "laura, dear," said uncle josiah, gravely, "i think we had better bring this painful interview to an end. you may rest assured that i shall do what is just and right by don. he shall have every opportunity for clearing himself." "i am not guilty," cried don, fiercely throwing back his head. "i thought so this morning, my boy," said the old merchant, gravely. "your conduct now is making me think very differently. laura, i will walk home with you, if you please." "josiah! don, my boy, pray, pray speak," cried mrs lavington, piteously. don heard her appeal, and it thrilled him, but his uncle's words had raised up an obstinacy that was stronger than ever, and while longing to throw himself in his mother's arms--passionately longing so to do--his indignant pride held him back, and he stood with his head bent, as in obedience to her brother mrs lavington took his arm, and allowed him to lead her out of the office, weeping bitterly the while. don did not look up to meet his mother's yearning gaze, but for months and years after he seemed to see that look when far away in the midst of peril, and too late he bitterly upbraided himself for his want of frankness and power to subdue his obstinate pride. "he thinks me guilty!" he said to himself, as he stood with his head bent, listening, and unaware of the fact that some one was still in the room, till a light step came towards him, his hand was caught, and his cheek rapidly kissed. "kitty!" "coming, father." then there was a rapid step, the door closed, and don stood in the same attitude, listening to the steps on the gravel, and then to the bang of the wicket-gate. alone with his thoughts, and they were many and strange. what should he do? go right away, and--and-- "mas' don." he looked up, and jem stood at the door. chapter six. jem wimble talks sense. "may i come in?" don nodded. "the master's gone, and took the ladies 'long with him. why, don't look like that, my lad. your uncle don't think you took the money?" don nodded. "but your mother don't, sir?" "yes, jem, she believes me guilty too." "i never did!" cried jem, excitedly. "but sure-_lie_ miss kitty don't?" "yes, jem, they all think i'm a thief. everybody does," cried don, passionately. "no, everybody don't," said jem, fiercely; "so don't talk like that, mas' don. why, even i couldn't ha' stole that money--me, as is only yard-man, and nothing o' no consequence t'other day. so if i couldn't ha' done it, i'm quite sure as you, as is a young gentleman born and bred, couldn't." "but they think i did. everybody thinks so." "tell yer everybody don't think so," cried jem, sharply. "i don't, and as for them, they've all got dust in their eyes, that's what's the matter with them, and they can't see clear. but didn't you tell 'em as you didn't?" "yes, jem," said don, despondently; "at first." "then why didn't you at last, too? here, cheer up, my lad; it'll all blow over and be forgotten, same as the row was about that sugar-hogshead as i let them take away. i don't say shake hands 'cause you're like master and me only man, but i shakes hands with you in my 'art, my lad, and i says, don't be down over it." "you couldn't shake hands with a thief, you mean, jem," said don, bitterly. "look here, mas' don, i can't punch your head because, as aforesaid, you're young master, and i'm only man; but for that there same what you said just now i hits you in my 'art. thief indeed! but ah, my lad, it was a pity as you ever let mike come into the office to tell you his lies about furren parts." "yes, jem, it was." "when you might ha' got all he told you out o' books, and the stories wouldn't ha' been quite so black." "ah, well, it's all over now." "what's all over?" "my life here, jem. i shall go right away." "go? what?" "right away. abroad, i think." "and what'll your mother do?" "forget me, i hope. i always was an unlucky fellow jem." "what d'yer mean? run away?" "yes, i shall go away." "well, that's clever, that is. why, that's just the way to make 'em think you did it. tshah! you stop like a man and face it out." "when everybody believes me guilty?" "don't be so precious aggrawatin', my lad," cried jem, plaintively. "don't i keep on a-telling you that i don't believe you guilty. why, i'd just as soon believe that i stole our sugar and sold bundles of tobacco-leaves to the marine store shops." don shook his head. "well, of all the aggrawatin' chaps i ever did see, you're 'bout the worst, mas' don. don't i tell you it'll be all right?" "no, jem, it will not be all right. i shall have to go before the magistrates." "well, what of that?" "what of that?" cried don, passionately. "why, that scoundrel mike will keep to his story." "let him!" cried jem, contemptuously. "why, who'd ever believe him i' preference to you?" "my uncle--my mother--my cousin." "not they, my boy. they don't believe it. they only think they do. they're sore just now, while it's all fresh. to-morrow by this time they will be a-hanging o' themselves round about your neck, and a-askin' of your pardon, and kissin' of you." "no, jem, no." "well, i don't mean as your uncle will be kissin' of you, of course; but he'll be sorry too, and a-shaking of your hand." don shook his head. "there, don't get wagging your head like a chinee figger, my lad. take it like a man." "it seems that the only thing for me to do, jem, is to tie up a bundle and take a stick, and go and try my luck somewhere else." "and you free and independent! why, what would you say if you was me, tied up and married, and allus getting into trouble at home." "not such trouble as this, jem." "not such trouble as this, my lad? worser ever so much, for you don't deserve it, and i do, leastwise, my sally says i do, and i suppose i do for being such a fool as to marry her." "you ought to be ashamed to talk like that, jem." "so ought you, mas' don. i've often felt as if i should like to do as you say and run right off, but i don't do it." "you have felt like that, jem?" cried don, eagerly. "yes, often, my lad." "then let's go, jem. nobody cares for us here. let's go right away to one of the beautiful foreign countries mike told me about, and begin a new life." "shall us, mas' don?" "yes; why not? get a passage in some ship, and stop where we like. he has told me of dozens of places that must be glorious." "then we won't go," said jem, decidedly. "if mike bannock says they're fine spots, don't you believe him; they're bad 'uns." "then let's go and select a place for ourselves," cried don. "lor! i do wonder at you, mas' don, wantin' to leave such a mother as you've got, and asking me to leave my wife. why, what would they do?" "i don't know," said don, sadly. "they care very little for us now. you can do as you like; i shall go." "nay, nay, you won't, my lad." "yes, jem, i think i shall." "ah, that's better! think about it." "i should have thought that you'd be glad to come with me, jem." "so i should, my lad; but there's a some'at as they calls dooty as allus seems to have hold on me tight. you wait a bit, and see how things turn out." "but i shall have to appear before the magistrates, and be called a thief." "ah, well, that won't be pleasant, my lad, of course; but wait." "then you wouldn't go with me, jem?" "don't tempt a man, mas' don, because i should like to go with you, and course i shouldn't like to go with you, because i shouldn't like you to go. there, i must get on with my work." at that very moment came the call of a shrill voice-- "jem!" "there i told you so. she see me come in here, and she's after me because i haven't got on with my casks. oh, how sharp she is!" jem gave don an intelligent nod of the head, and moved out, while the lad stood gazing at the opposite window and listened to the sharp voice addressing the foreman of the yard. "poor jem! he isn't happy either!" said don, sadly, as the voices died away. "we might go right off abroad, and they'd be sorry then and think better of us. i wish i was ten thousand miles away." he seated himself slowly on his stool, and rested his arms upon the desk, folding them across his chest; and then, looking straight before him at the door, his mental gaze went right through the panels, and he saw silver rivers flowing over golden sands, while trees of the most glorious foliage drooped their branches, and dipped the ends in the glancing water. the bright sun shone overhead; the tendrils and waving grass were gay with blossoms; birds of lovely plumage sang sweetly; and in the distance, on the one hand, fading away into nothingness, were the glorious blue mountains, and away to his right a shimmering sea. don lavington had a fertile brain, and on the canvas of his imagination he painted panorama after panorama, all bright and beautiful. there were no clouds, no storms, no noxious creatures, no trials and dangers. all was as he thought it ought to be, and about as different from the reality as could be supposed. but don did not know that in his youthful ignorance, and as he sat and gazed before him, he asked himself whether he had not better make up his mind to go right away. "yes, i will go!" he said, excitedly, as he started up in his seat. "no," he said directly after, as in imagination now he seemed to be gazing into his mother's reproachful eyes, "it would be too cowardly; i could not go." chapter seven. don and jem go home to tea. it required no little effort on don's part to go home that afternoon to the customary meat tea which was the main meal of the day at his uncle's home. he felt how it would be--that his uncle would not speak to him beyond saying a few distant words, such as were absolutely necessary. kitty would avert her eyes, and his mother keep giving him reproachful looks, every one of which was a silent prayer to him to speak. the afternoon had worn away, and he had done little work for thinking. his uncle had not been back, and at last jem's footstep was heard outside, and he passed the window to tap lightly on the door and then open it. "come, mas' don," he said, cheerily, "going to work all night?" "no, jem, no. i was just thinking of going." "that's right, my lad, because it's past shutting-up time. feel better now, don't you?" "no, jem, i feel worse." "are you going to keep the yard open all the evening, jem?" cried a shrill voice. "why don't you lock-up and come in to tea?" "there! hear that!" said jem, anxiously. "do go, mas' don, or i sha'n't get to the end on it. 'nuff to make a man talk as you do." "jem!" "here, i'm a-coming, arn't i?" he cried, giving the door a thump with his fist. "don't shout the ware'us down!" "jem!" "now did you ever hear such a aggrawatin' woman?" cried jem. "she's such a little un that i could pick her up, same as you do a kitten, mas' don--nothing on her as you may say; but the works as is inside her is that strong that i'm 'fraid of her." "jem!" he opened the door with a rush. "ya-a-a-as!" he roared; "don't you know as mas' don arn't gone?" little mrs wimble, who was coming fiercely up, flounced round, and the wind of her skirts whirled up a dust of scraps of matting and cooper's chips as she went back to the cottage. "see that, mas' don? now you think you've all the trouble in the world on your shoulders, but look at me. talk about a woman's temper turning the milk sour in a house. why, just now there's about three hundred hogsheads o' sugar in our ware'us--two hundred and ninety-three, and four damages not quite full, which is as good as saying three hundred-- see the books whether i arn't right. well, mas' don, i tell you for the truth that i quite frights it--i do, indeed--as she'll turn all that there sweetness into sour varjus 'fore she's done. going, sir?" "yes, jem, i'm going--home," said don; and then to himself, "ah, i wish i had a home." "poor mas' don!" said jem, as he watched the lad go out through the gate; "he's down in the dumps now, and no mistake; and dumps is the lot o' all on us, more or less." then jem went in to his tea, and don went slowly home to his, and matters were exactly as he had foreseen. his uncle was scarcely polite; kitty gave him sharp, indignant glances when their eyes met, and then averted hers; and from time to time his mother looked at him in so pitiful and imploring a manner that one moment he felt as if he were an utter scoundrel, and the next that he would do anything to take her in his arms and try and convince her that he was not so bad as she thought. it was a curious mental encounter between pride, obstinacy, and the better feelings of his nature; and unfortunately the former won, for soon after the meal was over he hurried out of the room. "i can't bear it," he cried to himself, as he went up to his own little chamber,--"i can't bear it, and i will not. every one's against me. if i stop i shall be punished, and i can't face all that to-morrow. good-bye, mother. some day you'll think differently, and be sorry for all this injustice, and then--" a tear moistened don's eye as he thought of his mother and her tender, loving ways, and of what a pity it was that they ever came there to his uncle's, and it was not the tear that made don see so blindly. "i can't stand it, and i will not," he cried, passionately. "uncle hates me, and mike bannock's right, scoundrel as he is. uncle has robbed me, and i'll go and fight for myself in the world, and when i get well off i'll come back and seize him by the throat and make him give up all he has taken." don talked to himself a good deal more of this nonsense, and then, with his mind fully made up, he went to the chest of drawers, took out a handkerchief, spread it open upon the bed, and placed in it a couple of clean shirts and three or four pairs of stockings. "there," he said, as he tied them up tightly as small as he could, "i won't have any more. i'll go and start fair, so that i can be independent and be beholden to nobody." tucking the bundle under his arm, he could not help feeling that it was a very prominent-looking package--the great checked blue and white handkerchief seeming to say, "this boy's going to seek his fortune!" and he wished that he was not obliged to take it. but, setting his teeth, he left the room with the drawers open, and his best suit, which he had felt disposed to take, tossed on a chair, and then began to descend. it was a glorious summer evening, and though he was in dirty, smoky bristol, everything seemed to look bright and attractive, and to produce a sensation of low-spiritedness such as he had never felt before. he descended and passed his mother's room, and then went down more slowly, for he could hear the murmur of voices in the dining-room, which he had to pass to reach the front door, outside which he did not care what happened; but now he had to pass that dining-room, and go along the passage and by the stand upon which his cocked hat hung. it was nervous work, but he went on down the first flight, running his hand slowly along the hand-balustrade, all down which he had so often slid while kitty looked on laughing, and yet alarmed lest he should fall. and what a long time ago that seemed! he had just reached the bottom flight, and was wondering what to say if the door should open and his uncle meet him with the blue bundle under his arm, when the dining-room door did open, and he dashed back to the landing and stood in the doorway of his mother's room, listening as a step was heard upon the stairs. "kitty!" he said to himself, as he thrust against the door, which yielded to his pressure, and he backed in softly till he could push the door to, and stand inside, watching through the crack. there was the light, soft step coming up and up, and his heart began to beat, he knew not why, till something seemed to rise in his throat, and made his breath come short and painfully. his mother! she was coming to her room, and in another moment she would be there, and would find him with the bundle under his arm, about to run away. quick as thought he looked sharply round, bundle in hand, when, obeying the first impulse, he was about to push it beneath the bedclothes, but cast aside the plan because he felt that it would be noticed, and quick as thought he tossed the light bundle up on the top of the great canopy of the old-fashioned bedstead, to lie among the gathering of flue and dust. by that time the footsteps were at the door. "what shall i say?" don asked himself; "she will want to know why i am here." he felt confused, and rack his brains as he would, no excuse would come. but it was not wanted, for the light footstep with the rustle of silk passed on upstairs, and don opened the door slightly to listen. his breath came thickly with emotion as he realised where his mother had gone. it was to his bedroom door, and as he listened he heard her tap lightly. "don! don, my boy!" came in low, gentle tones. for one moment the boy's heart prompted him to rush up and fling himself in her arms, but again his worse half suggested that he was to be scolded and disbelieved, and mentally thrusting his fingers into his ears, he stepped out, glided down the staircase in the old boyish fashion of sliding down the banister, snatched his hat from the stand, and softly stole out to hurry down the street as hard as he could go. he had been walking swiftly some five minutes, moved by only one desire--that of getting away from the house--when he awoke to the fact that he was going straight towards the constable's quarters and the old-fashioned lock-up where mike must be lying, getting rid of the consequences of his holiday-making that morning. don turned sharply round in another direction, one which led him towards the wharves where the shipping lay. while this was taking place, jem wimble had been banging the doors and rattling his keys as he locked up the various stores, feeling particularly proud and self-satisfied with the confidence placed in him. after this was done he had a wash at the pump, fetching a piece of soap from a ledge inside the workshop where the cooper's tools were kept, and when he had duly rubbed and scrubbed and dried his face and hands, he went indoors to stare with astonishment, for his little wife was making the most of her size by sitting very upright as she finished her tea. jem plumped himself indignantly down, and began his. this was a new annoyance. sally had scolded times out of number, and found fault with him for being so late, but this was the first time that she had ever begun a meal without his being present, and he felt bitterly hurt. "as if i could help it," he said, half aloud. "a man has his work to do, and he must do it." "five o'clock's tea-time, and you ought to have been here." "and if i wasn't here, it was your dooty to wait for me, marm." "was it?" cried sally; "then i wasn't going to. i'm not going to be ordered about and ill-treated, jem; you always said you liked your tea ready at five o'clock. i had it ready at five o'clock, and i waited till half-past, and it's now five-and-twenty to six." "i don't care if it's five-and-twenty to nineteen!" cried jem angrily. "it's your dooty to wait, same as it's mine to shut up." "you might have shut up after tea." "then i wasn't going to, marm." "then you may have your tea by yourself, for i've done, and i'm not going to be trampled upon by you." sally had risen in the loudness of her voice, in her temper, and in her person, for she had got up from her chair; but neither elevation was great; in fact, the personal height was very small, and there was something very kittenish and comic in her appearance, as she crossed the bright little kitchen to the door at the flight of stairs, and passing through, banged it behind her, and went up to her room. "very well," said jem, as he sat staring at the door; "very well, marm. so this is being married. my father used to say that if two people as is married can't agree, they ought to divide the house between 'em, but one ought to take the outside and t'other the in. that's what i'm a-going to do, only, seeing what a bit of a doll of a thing you are, and being above it, i'm going to take the outside myself. there's coffee bags enough to make a man a good bed up in the ware'us, and it won't be the first time i've shifted for myself, so i shall stop away till you fetches me back. do you hear?" "oh, yes, i can hear," replied sally from the top of the stairs, jem having shouted his last speech. "all right, then," said jem: "so now we understands each other and can go ahead." tightening up his lips, jem rinsed out the slop-basin, shovelled in a good heap of sugar, and then proceeded to empty the teapot, holding the lid in its place with one fat finger the while. this done, he emptied the little milk jug also, stirred all well up together, and left it for a few minutes to cool, what time he took the cottage loaf from the white, well-scrubbed trencher, pulled it in two, took a handful of bread out of one half, and raising the lump of fresh somersetshire butter on the point of a knife, he dabbed it into the hole he had made in the centre, shut it up by replacing the other half of the bread, and then taking out his handkerchief spread it upon his knee and tied the loaf tightly therein. then for a moment or two he hesitated about taking the knife, but finally concluding that the clasp knife in his pocket would do, he laid the blade on the table, gave his tea a final stir, gulped down the basinful, tucked the loaf in the handkerchief under his left arm, his hat very much on one side, and then walked out and through the gate, which he closed with a loud bang. "oh!" ejaculated sally, who had run to the bedroom window, "he has gone!" sally was quite right, jem, her husband, was gone away to his favourite place for smoking a pipe, down on the west main wharf, where he seated himself on a stone mooring post, placed the bundle containing the loaf beside him, and then began to eat heartily? nothing of the kind. jem was thinking very hard about home and his little petulant, girlish wife. then he started and stared. "hullo, jem, you here?" "why, mas' don, i thought you was at home having your tea." "i thought you were having yours, jem." "no, mas' don," said jem sadly; "there's my tea"--and he pointed to the bundle handkerchief; "there's my tea; leastwise i will tell the truth, o' course--there's part on it; t'other part's inside, for i couldn't tie that up, or i'd ha' brought it same ways to have down here and look at the ships." "then why don't you eat it, man?" "'cause i can't, sir. i've had so much o' my sally that i don't want no wittals." don said nothing, but sat down by jem wimble to look at the ships. chapter eight. kitty christmas sits up. "my dear laura," said uncle josiah that same evening, "you misjudge me; lindon's welfare is as dear to me as that of my little kitty." "but you seemed to be so hard and stern with him." "that is your weak womanly way of looking at it, my dear i may have been stern, but no more so than the matter warranted. no, my dear sister, can you not see that i mean all this as a lesson for lindon? you know how discontented he has been with his lot, like many more boys at his time of life, when they do not judge very well as to whether they are well off." "yes, he has been unsettled lately." "exactly, and this is due to his connection with that ne'er-do-weel scoundrel, for whom the boy has displayed an unconquerable liking. lindon has begged the man on again four times after he had been discharged from the yard for drunkenness and neglect." "i did not know this," said mrs lavington. "no, i do not bring all my business troubles home. i consented because i wished lindon to realise for himself the kind of man whose cause he advocated; but i never expected that it would be brought home to him so severely as this." "then indeed, josiah, you do not think lindon guilty?" "bah! of course not, you foolish little woman. the boy is too frank and manly, too much of a gentleman to degrade himself in such a way. guilty? nonsense! guilty of being proud and obstinate and stubborn. guilty of neglecting his work to listen to that idle scoundrel's romancing about places he has never seen." "he is so young." "young? old enough to know better." "but if you could bring it home to him more gently." "i think the present way is an admirable one for showing the boy his folly. the bird who kept company with the jackdaws had his neck wrung, innocent as he was. i want lindon to see how very near he has been to having his neck wrung through keeping company with a jackdaw. now, my dear laura, leave it to me. the magistrates will grasp the case at once, and master lindon will receive a severe admonition from some one else, which will bring him to his senses, and then we shall go on quite smoothly again." "you cannot tell how happy you have made me feel," said mrs lavington, as she wept silently. "well," said uncle josiah, "i want to make you happy, you poor timid little bird. now, then, try to believe that i am acting for the best." "and you will not be so stern with him?" "as far as my lights will illumine me, i will do what is right by my sister's boy, laura--the lad i want to see grow up into a straightforward englishman, proud of his name. there, can i say more fairly than that?" "no. i only beg that you will think of lindon as a high-spirited boy, who, though he does not always do as you wish, is still extremely sensitive." "proud and stubborn, eh, laura?" "i will say no more, my own brother, only leave myself in your hands." "yes, you may well look at the clock," said uncle josiah, laughing, as he put his arm round his sister, and kissed her very tenderly; "the young dog is unconscionably late." "you do not think--after what i said?" "think? nonsense. no, no. lindon is too manly for that. here, i am sure that you have a terrible headache, and you are worn out. go to bed, and i'll sit up for the young rascal, and have a talk to him when he comes in." "no, no!" exclaimed mrs lavington excitedly; "i do not like you to sit up for him. i will." "not you. too tired out as it is. no, my dear, you shall go to bed, and i will sit up for him." "then let neither of us sit up." "afraid i shall scold him, eh?" "i cannot help being afraid of something of the kind, dear." "very well, then we will both go, and let jessie sit up." the maid was rung for, and entered. "we are going to bed, jessie. master lindon has not returned yet. you will sit up until he comes in." "yes, sir." the maid left the room, and brother and sister sat looking at each other. "did you speak, josiah?" said mrs lavington. "no; i was only thinking that i do not trust you and you don't trust me." "what do you mean?" faltered the poor woman, who looked more agitated now. "you were not going to bed, but to listen for lindon's return, and were then going to watch whether i left my room to talk to him." mrs lavington was silent. "guilty," said uncle josiah, smiling. "come now, fair play. will you go to your room and promise to stay there till breakfast time to-morrow morning, if i give you my word to do the same?" "yes," said the shrinking woman eagerly. "that's agreed to, then. good-night, laura, my dear." "good-night, josiah." ten minutes after all was still in the house, but matters did not turn out quite as uncle josiah intended. for before he was undressed, a bedroom door was opened very gently, and the creak it gave produced a low ejaculation of dismay. then there was five minutes' interval before a slight little figure stole gently downstairs and glided into the kitchen, where round red-faced jessie was seated in a window, her chair being opposite to what looked like a lady's back, making the most careful bows from time to time, to which the lady made no response, for it was only jessie's cloak hanging on a peg with her old bonnet just above. the slight little figure stood in the kitchen doorway listening, and then jessie seemed to be bowing her head to the fresh comer, who did take some notice of the courtesy, for, crossing the kitchen rapidly, there was a quick sharp whisper. "jessie, jessie!" no reply. "jessie, jessie!" "two new and one stale," said the maid. "oh, how tiresome! jessie, jessie!" "slack baked." "jessie!" and this time there was a shake of the maid's shoulder, and she jumped up, looking startled. "lor, miss kitty, how you frightened me!" "you were asleep." "sleep? me, miss? that i'm sure i wasn't." "you were, jessie, and i heard father tell you to sit up till cousin lindon came home." "well, that's what i'm a-doin' of, miss, as plain as i can," said jessie. she spoke in an ill-used tone, for it had been a busy day consequent upon a certain amount of extra cleaning, but kitty did not notice it. "i shall stay till i hear my cousin's knock," she said; "and then run upstairs. i hope he will not be long." "so do i, miss kitty," said the woman with a yawn. "what's made him so late? is it because of the trouble at the yard?" "yes, jessie; but you must not talk about it." "but i heerd as master don took some money." "he did not, jessie!" cried kitty indignantly. "there isn't a word of truth in it. my cousin lindon couldn't have done such a thing. it's all a mistake, and i want to see him come in, poor boy, and tell him that i don't believe it i'll whisper it to him just as he's going up to bed, and it will make him happy, for i know he thinks i have gone against him, and i only made believe that i did." _snurrrg_! the sound was very gentle, and kitty did not hear it, for she was looking intently toward the door in the belief that she had heard don's footstep. but it was only that of some passer on his way home, and kitty went on,-- "you mustn't talk about it, jessie, for it is a great trouble, and aunt is nearly heart-broken, and--" _snurg-urg_! this time there was so loud and gurgling a sound that kitty turned sharply upon the maid, who, after emitting a painful snore, made her young mistress the most polite of bows. "jessie! you're asleep." _snurrg_! and a bow. "oh, jessie, you're asleep again. how can you be so tiresome?" _snurrg_! gurgled jessie again, and kitty gave an impatient stamp of her little foot. "how can any one sleep at a time like this?" she half sobbed. "it's too bad, that it is." jessie bowed to her politely, and her head went up and down as if it were fixed at the end of a very easy moving spring, but when kitty reproached her the words had not the slightest effect, and a dull stupid stare was given, of so irritating a nature that some people would have felt disposed to awaken the sleeper by administering a sound slap upon the hard round cheek. one hour, two hours, three hours passed away, and still no don; and at last, unable to bear the company of the snoring woman longer, kitty left her and went into the drawing-room, where, kneeling down at the end of the couch under the window, she remained watching the dark street, waiting for him who did not come. kitty watched till the street began to look less dark and gloomy, and by degrees the other side became so plain that she could make out the bricks on the opposite walls. then they grew plainer and plainer, and there was a bright light in the sky, for the sun was near to its rising. then they grew less plain, then quite indistinct, for kitty was crying bitterly, and she found herself wondering whether don could have come in and gone to bed. a little thought told her that this was impossible, and the tears fell faster still. where could he be? what could he be doing? ought she to awaken her aunt? kitty could not answer these self-imposed questions, and as her misery and despair grew greater it seemed as if the morning was growing very cold and the bricks of the houses opposite more and more obscure, and then soon after they were quite invisible, for she saw them not. chapter nine. a social thunderbolt. "morning!" said uncle josiah, as, after a turn up and down the dining-room, he saw the door open and his sister enter, looking very pale and red-eyed. "why, laura, you have not been to bed." "yes," she said sadly. "i kept my word, and now i feel sorry that i did, for i fell into a heavy sleep from which i did not wake till half an hour ago." "glad of it," said her brother bluffly. "that's right, my dear, make the tea; i want my breakfast, for i have plenty of work to-day." mrs lavington hastily made the tea, for the urn was hissing on the table when she came down, uncle josiah's orders being that it was always to be ready at eight o'clock, and woe betide jessie if it was not there. "have--have you seen don this morning?" "no. and when he comes down i shall not say a word. there, try and put a better face on the matter, my dear. he will have to appear at the magistrate's office, and there will be a few admonitions. that's all. isn't kitty late?" "yes. shall i send up for her?" "no; she will be down in a few minutes, i daresay, and lindon too." the few minutes passed, and uncle josiah looked stern. then he rang for the servants, and his brow grew more heavy. neither kitty nor lindon down to prayers. "shall i send up, josiah?" "no; they know what time we have prayers," said the old man sternly; and upon the servants entering he read his customary chapter and the prayers, but no one stole in while the service was in progress, and when it was over the old merchant looked more severe than ever. mrs lavington looked more troubled as her brother grew more severe, but she did not speak, feeling that she might make matters worse. just then jessie brought in the ham and eggs, and as she took off the cover, and mrs lavington began to pour out tea, the old man said roughly,-- "go and tell miss kitty to come down to breakfast directly." the maid left the room. "you did not send a message to don, josiah." "no. i suppose his lordship was very late. no business to have gone out." uncle josiah began his breakfast. mrs lavington could not taste hers. then jessie entered, looking startled. "if you please, sir--" "well, if you please what?" "miss kitty, sir." "yes?" "she's not in her room." "eh?" ejaculated the old merchant. "humph! come down and gone for a walk, i suppose. back soon." the breakfast went on, but there was no kitty, no don, and uncle josiah began to eat his food ferociously. at last he got up and rang the bell sharply, and jessie responded. "what time did master lindon come home?" he said. "come home, sir?" "yes; did i not speak plainly? i said what time did master lindon come home?" "please, sir, he didn't come home at all." "what!" roared uncle josiah, and mrs lavington nearly let her cup fall. "please, sir, i sat in my chair waiting all the night." "and he has not been back?" "no, sir." "nonsense! go and knock at his door. tell him to come at once." "excuse me, josiah," said mrs lavington excitedly; "let me go." uncle josiah grunted his consent, and mrs lavington hurried out into the hall, and then upstairs. "slipped in while you were half asleep," said the old man to jessie. "no, sir, indeed. i've been watching carefully all night." "humph! there's half a crown for you to buy a hat ribbon, jessie. well," he continued as his sister entered hastily, "what does he say?" "josiah!" cried the trembling woman, "what does this mean? don was out when i went up yesterday evening, and he has not been to his room all night." "what?" "neither has kitty been to hers." uncle josiah thrust back his chair, and left his half-eaten breakfast. "look here," he exclaimed in a hoarse voice; "what nonsense is this?" "no nonsense, josiah," cried mrs lavington. "i felt a presentiment." "felt a stuff and nonsense!" he said angrily. "kitty not in her room? kitty not been to bed? here, jessie!" "yes, sir." "you did go to sleep, didn't you?" "ye-e-e-s, sir!" "i thought as much, and,"--here tut-tut-tut--"that would not explain it. hullo, what do you want?" this was to the cook, who tapped, opened the door, and then held up her hand as if to command silence. "please, 'm, would you mind coming here?" she said softly. mrs lavington ran to the door, followed the woman across the hall, unaware of the fact that the old merchant was close at her heels. they paused as soon as they were inside the drawing-room, impressed by the scene before them, for there, half sitting, half lying, and fast asleep, with the tears on her cheeks still wet, as if she had wept as she lay there unconscious, was kitty, for the bricks on the opposite wall had been too indistinct for her to see. "don't wake her," said uncle josiah softly, and he signed to them to go back into the hall, where he turned to jessie. "did you see miss kitty last night?" "ye-es, sir." "where?" "she comed into the kitchen, sir." "after we had gone to bed?" "yes, sir." "and you said nothing just now?" "no, sir, i didn't like to." "that will do. be off," said the old man sternly. "laura. here!" mrs lavington followed her brother back into the dining-room. "the poor child must have been sitting up to watch for lindon's return." "and he has not returned, josiah," sobbed mrs lavington. "here, stop! what are you going to do?" "i am going up to his room to see," said the sobbing woman. uncle josiah made no opposition, for he read the mother's thought, and followed her upstairs, where a half-open drawer told tales, and in a few moments mrs lavington had satisfied herself. "i cannot say exactly," she said piteously; "but he has made up a bundle of his things." "the coward!" cried uncle josiah fiercely. "gone! gone! my poor boy!" "hush!" cried the old man sternly. "he has sneaked off like a contemptible cur. no, i will not believe it of him," he added impetuously. "lindon has too much stuff in him to play such a despicable part. you are wrong, laura. come down and finish breakfast. i will not believe it of the boy." "but he has gone, josiah, he has gone," sobbed his sister. "then if he has, it is the yielding to a sudden impulse, and as soon as he comes to his senses he will return. lindon will not be such a coward, laura. mark my words." "you are saying this to comfort me," said mrs lavington sadly. "i am saying what i think," cried her brother. "if i thought he had gone right off, i would say so, but i do not think anything of the kind. he may have thought of doing so last night, but this morning he will repent and come back." he took his sister's hand gently, and led her downstairs, making her resume her place at the table, and taking his own again, as he made a pretence of going on with his breakfast; but before he had eaten his second mouthful there was a dull heavy thump at the front door. "there!" cried the old man; "what did i say? here he is." before the front door could be opened, kitty, who had been awakened by the knock, came in looking scared and strange. "don," she said; "i have been asleep. has he come back?" "yes i think this is he," said the old man gently. "come here, my pet; don't shrink like that. i'm not angry." "if you please, sir," said jessie, "here's a woman from the yard." "mrs wimble?" "yes, sir; and can she speak to you a minute?" "yes, i'll come--no, show her in here. news. an ambassador, laura," said the old man with a grim smile, as jessie went out. "there, kitty, my dear, don't cry. it will be all right soon." at that moment little mrs wimble entered, white cheeked, red-eyed, limp and miserable looking, the very opposite of the trim little sally who lorded it over her patient husband. "mrs wimble!" cried mrs lavington, catching the little woman's arm excitedly; "you have brought some news about my son." "no," moaned sally, with a passionate burst of sobs. "went out tea-time, and never come back all night." "yes, yes, we know that," said uncle josiah sternly; "but how did you know?" "know, sir? i've been sitting up for him all this dreadful night." "what, for my nephew?" "no, sir, for my jem." "lindon--james wimble!" said uncle josiah, as he sank back in his seat. "impossible! it can't be true." chapter ten. gone! "speak, woman!" cried mrs lavington hoarsely; and she shook little sally by the arm. "what do you mean?" "i don't know, ma'am. i'm in such trouble," sobbed sally. "i've been a very, very wicked girl--i mean woman. i was always finding fault, and scolding him." "why?" asked uncle josiah sternly. "i don't know, sir." "but he is a quiet industrious man, and i'm sure he is a good husband." "yes, he's the best of husbands," sobbed sally. "then why did you scold him?" "because i was so wicked, i suppose. i couldn't help it, sir." "but you think he has run away?" "yes, sir; i'm sure of it. he said he would some day if i was so cruel, and that seemed to make me more cruel, and--and--he has gone." "it is impossible!" said uncle josiah. "he must have met with some accident." "no, sir, he has run away and left me. he said he would. i saw him go--out of the window, and he took a bundle with him, and--and--what shall i do? what shall i do?" "took a bundle?" said uncle josiah, starting. "yes, sir, and--and i wish i was dead." "silence, you foolish little woman! how dare you wish such a thing? stop; listen to what i say. did my nephew lindon come to the yard last night?" "no, sir; but him and my jem were talking together for ever so long in the office, and i couldn't get jem away." uncle josiah gave vent to a low whistle. "please ask master don what my jem said." "do you not understand, my good woman, that my son has not been home all night?" said mrs lavington, piteously. "what? not been home?" cried sally, sharply. "then they're gone off together." uncle josiah drew a long breath. "that master don was always talking to my poor jem, and he has persuaded him, and they're gone." "it is not true!" cried kitty in a sharp voice as she stood by the table, quivering with anger. "if cousin don has gone away, it is your wicked husband who has persuaded him. father, dear, don't let them go; pray, pray fetch them back." uncle josiah's brow grew more rugged, and there were hard lines about his lips, till his sister laid her hand upon his arm, when he started, and took her hand, looking sadly down in her face. "you hear what kitty says," whispered mrs lavington; "pray--pray fetch them back." little mrs wimble heard her words, and gave the old merchant an imploring look. but the old man's face only grew more hard. "i am afraid it must be true," he said. "foolish boy! woman, your husband has behaved like an idiot." "but you will send and fetch them back, josiah." "don't talk nonsense, laura," said the old man angrily. "how can i fetch them back? foolish boy! at a time like this. is he afraid to face the truth?" "no, no, josiah," cried mrs lavington; "it is only that he was hurt." "hurt? he has hurt himself. that man will be before the magistrates to-day, and i passed my word to the constable that lindon should be present to answer the charge made against him." "yes, dear, and he has been thoughtless. but you will forgive him, and have him brought back." "have him brought back!" cried uncle josiah fiercely. "what can i do? the law will have him brought back now." "what? oh, brother, don't say that!" "i must tell you the truth," said uncle josiah sternly. "it is the same as breaking faith, and he has given strength to that scoundrel's charge." "but what shall i do?" sobbed little sally wimble. "my jem hadn't done anything. oh, please, sir, fetch him back." "your husband has taken his own road, my good woman," said uncle josiah coldly, "and he must suffer for it." "but what's to become of me, sir? what shall i do without a husband?" "go back home and wait." "but i have no home, sir, now," sobbed sally. "you'll want the cottage for some other man." "go back home and wait." "but you'll try and fetch him back, sir?" "i don't know what i shall do yet," said the old man sternly. "i'm afraid i do not know the worst. there, go away now. who's that?" there was a general excitement, for a loud knock was heard at the door. jessie came in directly after, looking round eyed and staring. "well, what is it?" said uncle josiah. "if you please, sir, mr smithers the constable came, and i was to tell you that you're to be at the magistrate's office at eleven, and bring master don with you." "yes," said uncle josiah bitterly; "at the magistrate's office at eleven, and take lindon with me. well, laura, what have you to say to that?" mrs lavington gave him an imploring look. "try and find him," she whispered, "for my sake." "try and find him!" he replied angrily, "i was willing to look over everything--to try and fight his battle and prove to the world that the accusation was false." "yes, yes, and you will do so now--josiah--brother." "i cannot," said the old man sternly. "he has disgraced me, and openly declared to the world that the accusation of that scoundrel is true." chapter eleven. thinking better of it. don stood looking at jem wimble for some few minutes in silence, as if the sight of some one else in trouble did him good. then he sat down on the stock of an old anchor, to begin picking at the red rust scales as he too stared at the ships moored here and there. the tall masts and rigging had a certain fascination for don, and each vessel seemed to offer a way out of his difficulties. for once on board a ship with the sails spread, and the open sea before him, he might cross right away to one of those beautiful lands of which mike had spoken, and then-- the thought of mike altered the case directly, and he sat staring straight before him at the ships. jem was the next to break the silence. "thinking you'd like to go right away, master don?" "yes, jem." "so was i, sir. only think how nice it would be somewhere abroad, where there was no sally." "and no uncle josiah, jem." "ay, and no mike to get you into trouble. be fine, wouldn't it?" "glorious, jem." "mean to go, master don?" "what, and be a miserable coward? no." "but you was a-thinking something of the kind, sir." "yes, i was, jem. everybody is stupid sometimes, and i was stupid then. no. i've thought better of it." "and you won't go, sir?" "go? no. why, it would be like saying what mike accused me of was true." "so it would, sir. now that's just how i felt. i says to myself, `jem,' i says, `don't you stand it. what you've got to do is to go right away and let sally shift for herself; then she'd find out your vally,' i says, `and be sorry for what she's said and done,' but i knew if i did she'd begin to crow and think she'd beat me, and besides, it would be such a miserable cowardly trick. no, mas' don, i'm going to grin and bear it, and some day she'll come round and be as nice as she's nasty now." "yes, that's the way to look at it, jem; but it's a miserable world, isn't it?" "well, i arn't seen much on it, mas' don. i once went for a holiday as far as bath, and that part on it was miserable enough. my word, how it did rain! in half an hour i hadn't got a dry thread on me. deal worse than bristol, which isn't the most cheersome o' places when you're dull." "no, jem, it isn't. of course you'll be at the court to-morrow?" "i suppose so, mas' don. and i say they'd better ask me if i think you took that money. my! but i would give it to some on 'em straight. can you fight, mas' don?" "i don't know, jem. i never tried." "i can. you don't know what a crack i could give a man. it's my arms is so strong with moving sugar-hogsheads, i suppose. i shouldn't wish to be the man i hit if i did my best." "you mean your worst, jem." "course i do, mas' don. well, as i was going to say, i should just like to settle that there matter with mr mike without the magistrates. you give him to me on a clear field for about ten minutes, and i'd make master mike down hisself on his knees, and say just whatever i pleased." "and what good would that do, jem?" "not much to him, mas' don, because he'd be so precious sore afterwards, but it would do me good, and i would feel afterwards what i don't feel now, and that's cheerful. never mind, sir, it'll all come right in the end. nothing like coming out and sitting all alone when you're crabby. wind seems to blow it away. when you've been sitting here a bit you'll feel like a new man. mind me smoking a pipe?" "no, jem; smoke away." "won't have one too, mas' don?" "no, jem; you know i can't smoke." "then here goes for mine," said jem, taking a little dumpy clay pipe from one pocket and a canvas bag from another, in which were some rough pieces of tobacco leaf. these he crumbled up and thrust into the bowl, after which he took advantage of the shelter afforded by an empty cask to get in, strike a light, and start a pipe. once lit up, jem returned to his old seat, and the pair remained in the same place till it was getting dusk, and lights were twinkling among the shipping, when jem rose and stretched himself. "that's your sort, mas' don," he said. "now i feels better, and i can smile at my little woman when i get home. you aren't no worse?" "no, jem, i am no worse." "nothing like coming out when you're red hot, and cooling down. i'm cooled down, and so are you. come along." don felt a sensation of reluctance to return home, but it was getting late, and telling himself that he had nothing to do now but act a straightforward manly part, and glad that he had cast aside his foolish notions about going away, he trudged slowly back with his companion, till turning into one of the dark and narrow lanes leading from the water side, they suddenly became aware that they were not alone, for a stoutly-built sailor stepped in front of them. "got a light, mate?" he said. "light? yes," said jem readily; and he prepared to get out his flint and steel, when don whispered something in his ear. "ay, to be sure," he said; "why don't you take a light from him?" "eh? ah, to be sure," said the sailor. "i forgot. here, joe, mate, open the lanthorn and give us a light." another sailor, a couple of yards away, opened a horn lanthorn, and the first man bent down to light his pipe, the dull rays of the coarse candle showing something which startled don. "come on, jem," he whispered; "make haste." "ay? to be sure, my lad. there's nothing to mind though. only sailors." as he spoke there were other steps behind, and more from the front, and don realised that they were hemmed in that narrow lane between two little parties of armed men. just then the door of the lanthorn was closed, and the man who bore it held it close to jem's face. "well?" said that worthy, good-temperedly, "what d'yer think of me, eh? lost some one? 'cause i arn't him." "i don't know so much about that," said a voice; and a young-looking man in a heavy pea jacket whispered a few words to one of the sailors. don felt more uneasy, for he saw that the point of a scabbard hung down below the last speaker's jacket, which bulged out as if there were pistols beneath, all of which he could dimly make out in the faint glow of the lanthorn. "come away, jem, quick!" whispered don. "here, what's your hurry, my lads?" said the youngish man in rather an authoritative way. "come and have a glass of grog." "no, thank ye," said jem; "i've got to be home." "so have we, mate," said the hoarse-voiced man who had asked for a light; "and when a horficer asks you to drink you shouldn't say no." "i knew it, jem," whispered don excitedly. "officer! do you hear?" "what are you whispering about, youngster?" said the man in the pea jacket. "you let him be." "good-night," said jem shortly. "come on, mas' don." he stepped forward, but the young man hurried on the men, who had now closed in round them; and as jem gave one of them a sturdy push to get off, the thrust was returned with interest. "where are you shovin' to, mate?" growled the man. "arn't the road wide enough for you?" "quiet, my lad," said the officer sharply. "here, you come below here and have a glass of grog." "i don't want no grog," said jem; "and i should thank you to tell your men to let me pass." "yes, by-and-by," said the officer. "now then, my lads, sharp." a couple of men crowded on jem, one of them forcing himself between the sturdy fellow and don, whose cheeks flushed with anger as he felt himself rudely thrust up against the wall of one of the houses. "here, what are you doing of?" cried jem sharply. "being civil," said one of the men with a laugh. "there, no nonsense. come quiet." he might just as well have said that to an angry bull, for as he and his companion seized jem by the arms, they found for themselves how strong those arms were, one being sent staggering against don, and the other being lifted off his legs and dropped upon his back. "now, mas' don, run!" shouted jem. but before the words were well out of his lips, the party closed in upon him, paying no heed to don, who in accordance with jem's command had rushed off in retreat. a few moments later he stopped, for jem was not with him, but struggling with all his might in the midst of the knot of men who were trying to hold him. "mas' don! help, help!" roared jem; and don dashed at the gang, his fists clenched, teeth set, and a curious singing noise in his ears. but as he reached the spot where his companion was making a desperate struggle for his liberty, jem shouted again,-- "no, no! mas' don; run for it, my lad, and get help if you can." like a flash it occurred to don that long before he could get help jem would be overpowered and carried off, and with the natural fighting instinct fully raised, he struck out with all his might as he strove to get to the poor fellow, who was writhing and heaving, and giving his captors a tremendous task to hold him. "here, give him something to keep him quiet," growled a voice. "no, no; get hold of his hands; that's right. serve this cockerel the same. down with him, quick!" cried the officer sharply; and in obedience to his words the men hung on to poor jem so tenaciously that he was dragged down on the rough pavement, and a couple of men sat panting upon him while his wrists were secured, and his voice silenced by a great bandage right over his mouth. "you cowards!" jem tried to roar, as, breathless with exertion, bleeding from a sharp back-handed blow across the mouth, and giddy with excitement and the effects of a rough encounter between his head and the wall, don made one more attempt to drag himself free, and then stood panting and mastered by two strong men. "show the light," said the officer, and the lanthorn was held close to don's face. "well, if the boy can fight like that," said the officer, "he shall." "let us go," cried don. "help! he--" a jacket was thrown over his head, as the officer said mockingly,-- "he shall fight for his majesty the king. now, my lads, quick. some one coming, and the wrong sort." don felt himself lifted off his feet, and half smothered by the hot jacket which seemed to keep him from breathing, he was hurried along two or three of the lanes, growing more faint and dizzy every moment, till in the midst of a curious nightmare-like sensation, lights began suddenly to dance before his eyes; then all was darkness, and he knew no more till he seemed to wake up from a curious sensation of sickness, and to be listening to jem wimble, who would keep on saying in a stupid, aggravating manner,--"mas' don, are you there?" the question must have been repeated many times before don could get rid of the dizzy feeling of confusion and reply,--"yes; what do you want?" "oh, my poor lad!" groaned jem. "here, can you come to me and untie this?" "jem!" "yes." "what does it mean? why is it so dark? where are we?" "don't ask everything at once, my lad, and i'll try to tell you." "has the candle gone out, jem? are we in the big cellar?" "yes, my lad," groaned jem, "we're in a big cellar." "can't you find the candle?" said don, with his head humming and the mental confusion on the increase. "there's a flint and steel on the ledge over the door." "is there, my lad? i didn't know it," muttered jem. "jem, are you there?" "yes, yes, my lad, i'm here." "get a light, quick. i must have fallen and hurt myself; my face bleeds." "oh, my poor dear lad!" "eh? what do you mean? you're playing tricks, jem, and it's too bad. get a light." "my hands is tied fast behind me, mas' don," groaned jem, "and we're pitched down here in a cellar." "what?" "oh, dear! oh, dear! i don't mind for myself," groaned jem, in his despair, "but what will she do?" "jem!" "i often said i wished i could be took away, but i didn't mean it, mas' don; i didn't mean it. what will my sally do?" "jem, are you mad?" shouted don. "this darkness--this cellar. it's all black, and i can't think; my head aches, and it's all strange. don't play tricks. try and open the door and let's go." "what, don't you know what it all means, mas' don?" groaned jem. "no, i don't seem as if i could think. what does it mean?" "mean, my lad? why, the press-gang's got us, and unless we can let 'em know at home, we shall be took aboard ship and sent off to sea." "what?" the light had come--the mental light which drove away the cloud of darkness which had obscured don lavington's brain. he could think now, and he saw once more the dark lane, the swinging lanthorn, and felt, as it were, the struggle going on; and then, sitting up with his hands to his throbbing head, he listened to a low moaning sound close at hand. "jem," he said. "jem! why don't you speak?" there was no answer, for it was poor jem's turn now; the injuries he had received in his desperate struggle for liberty had had their effect, and he lay there insensible to the great trouble which had come upon him, while it grew more terrible to don, in the darkness of that cellar, with every breath he drew. chapter twelve. prisoners. "what's the matter?" cried don, starting up, as there was the sound of bolts being shot back, and a light shone in upon the darkness. don could hardly believe it possible, but it was quite true. in spite of pain and anxiety, weariness had mastered him, and he had been asleep. as the light shone in, don could see jem lying, apparently asleep, but in a very uncomfortable position, and that they were in a low, arched cellar, one which at some time had been used for storing casks; for in one corner there were some mouldy staves, and, close by, a barrel, whose hoops seemed to have slipped down, so that it was in a state of collapse. he had no time to see more, for half a dozen well-armed sailors came in after a bluff-looking man, who crossed at once to the prisoners. "hold the lanthorn here," he said sharply. "now let's have a look at you." he examined their injuries in an experienced way, roughly, but not unkindly. "all right, my lad," he said to don; "you will not die this time. now you." he spent longer over jem, who roused up and looked at him curiously, as if he did not quite understand. "been rather rough with this one, my lads." "couldn't help it," said one of the sailors; "he fote so hard. so did this young chap too." "nothing wrong with him, i daresay," said the bluff man. "no bones broken. all right in a day or two." don had been silent while jem was examined, for he felt that this man was either a doctor, or one who knew something about surgery; but as soon as he had finished, the boy, whose indignation had been growing, turned to him haughtily. "now, sir!" he exclaimed, "have the goodness to explain the meaning of this outrage." "cock-a-doodle-doo!" cried the bluff man. "it is nothing to laugh at, sir. i insist upon knowing why we have been ill-used and dragged here by your men." "well crowed, my young cockerel," said the bluff man, laughing. "they said you fought well with your fists, so you can with your tongue." "insulting us now you have us down will not save you," cried don fiercely. "no, my lord," said the bluff man, as jem rose up, shook his head, and stood by don. the men laughed. "you coward!" cried don in hot anger; "but you shall all suffer for it. my uncle will set the law to work, and have you all punished." "really, this is growing serious," said the bluff man in mock alarm. "you will find it no laughing matter. you have made a mistake this time; so now let us go at once." "well, i would with pleasure, my noble captain," said the bluff man, with mock solemnity; "but his majesty is in sore need just now of some dashing young fellows who can fight; and he said to our first lieutenant, `short of men, mr morrison? dear me, are you? well then, the best thing you can do is to send round bristol city, and persuade a few of the brave and daring young fellows there to come on board my good ship _great briton_, and help me till i've settled my quarrel with my enemies,' so we have persuaded you." "you are adding insult to what you have done, sir. now let us pass. you and your miserable press-gang shall smart for this. stand aside, sir." "what, after taking all this trouble? hardly." "here, i'm all right again now, mas' don. press-gang, eh?" cried jem. "here, let me get at him." jem made a dash at the bluff man, but his arms were seized, and he was held back, struggling hard. "ah, i wish we had fifty of you," said the bluff man. "don't hurt him, my lads. there, there, steady; you can't do anything. that will do. save your strength to fight for the king." "you cowards!" cried jem, who suddenly turned so faint that the men easily mastered him, laid him on his back, and one held him down, while another held don till the rest had passed out, the bluff man only standing at the entrance with another holding up the light. "come along," he shouted; and the man who held jem left him, and ran out. "do you hear?" cried the bluff man again. "come along!" "how can i, when he's sticking on like a rat?" growled the man who held don. "did you ever see such a young ruffian?" the bluff man took a stride or two forward, gripped don by the shoulder, and forced him from his hold. "don't be a young fool," he said firmly, but not unkindly. "it's plucky, but it's no good. can't you see we're seven to one?" "i don't care if you're a hundred," raged don, struggling hard, but vainly. "bravo, boy! that's right; but we're english, and going to be your messmates. wait till you get at the french; then you may talk like that." he caught don by the hips, and with a dexterous cornish wrestling trick, raised him from the ground, and then threw him lightly beside jem. "you'll do," he said. "i thought we'd let you go, because you're such a boy, but you've got the pluck of a man, and you'll soon grow." he stepped quickly to the entrance, and don struggled to his feet, and dashed at him again, but only flung himself against the door, which was banged in his face, and locked. "the cowards!" panted don, as he stood there in the darkness. "why, jem!" "yes, mas' don." "they won't let us go." "no, mas' don, that they won't." "i never thought the press-gang would dare to do such a thing as this." "i did, sir. they'd press the monkeys out of a wild beast show if they got the chance." "but what are we to do?" "i d'know, sir." "we must let my uncle know at once." "yes, sir, i would," said jem grimly; "i'd holloa." "don't be stupid. what's the good?" "not a bit, sir." "but my uncle--my mother, what will they think?" "i'll tell yer, sir." "yes?" "they'll think you've run away, so as not to have to go 'fore the magistrates." "jem, what are you saying? think i'm a thief?" "i didn't say that, sir; but so sure as you don't go home, they'll think you've cut away." "jem!" cried don in a despairing voice, as he recalled the bundle he had made up, and the drawer left open. "well, sir, you was allus a-wanting to go abroad, and get away from the desk," said jem ill-naturedly--"oh, how my head do ache!--and now you've got your chance." "but that was all nonsense, jem. i was only thinking then like a stupid, discontented boy. i don't want to go. what will they say?" "dunno what they'll say," said jem dolefully, "but i know what my sally will say. i used to talk about going and leaving her, but that was because i too was a hidyut. i didn't want to go and leave her, poor little lass. too fond on her, mas' don. she only shows a bit o' temper." "jem, she'll think you've run away and deserted her." "safe, mas' don. you see, i made up a bundle o' wittles as if i was a-going, and she saw me take it out under my arm, and she called to me to stop, but i wouldn't, because i was so waxy." "and i made up a bundle too, jem. i--i did half think of going away." "then you've done it now, my lad. my sally will think i've forsook her." "and they at home will think of me as a thief. oh, fool--fool--fool!" "what's the use o' calling yourself a fool, mas' don, when you means me all the time? oh, my head, my head!" "jem, we must escape." "escape? i on'y wish we could. oh, my head: how it do ache." "they will take us off to the tender, and then away in some ship, and they will not know at home where we are gone jem, get up." "what's the good, sir? my head feels like feet, and if i tried to stand up i should go down flop!" "let me help you, jem. here, give me your hand. how dark it is? where's your hand?" "gently, my lad; that's my hye. arn't much use here in the dark, but may want 'em by-and-by. that's better. thank ye, sir. here, hold tight." "can't you stand, jem?" "stand, sir? yes: but what's the matter? it's like being in a round-about at the fair." "you'll be better soon." "better, sir? well, i can't be worse. oh, my head, my head! i wish i'd got him as did it headed up in one of our barrels, i'd give him such a roll up and down the ware'us floor as 'ud make him as giddy as me." "now try and think, jem," said don excitedly. "they must not believe at home that we are such cowards as to run away." "no, sir; my sally mustn't think that." "then what shall we do?" "try to get out, sir, of course." "can you walk?" "well, sir, if i can't, i'll crawl. what yer going to do?" "try the door. perhaps they have left it unlocked." "not likely," said jem. "wish i'd got a candle. it's like being a rat in a box trap. it _is_ dark." "this way, jem. your hand." "all right, sir. frontards: my hands don't grow out o' my back." "that's it. now together. let's get to the wall." there was a rustling noise and then a rattle. "phew! shins!" cried jem. "oh, dear me. that's barrel staves, i know the feel on 'em. such sharp edges, mas' don. mind you don't tread on the edge of a hoop, or it'll fly up and hit you right in the middle." _flip_! "there, i told you so. hurt you much, my lad?" "not very much, jem. now then; feel your way with me. let's go all round the place, perhaps there's another way out." "all right, sir. well, it might be, but i say as it couldn't be darker than this if you was brown sugar, and shut up in a barrel in the middle o' the night." "now i am touching the wall, jem," said don. "i'm going to feel all round. can you hear anything?" "only you speaking, my lad." "come along then." "all right, mas' don. my head aches as if it was a tub with the cooper at work hammering of it." don went slowly along the side of the great cellar, guiding himself in the intense darkness by running: his hands over the damp bricks; but there was nothing but bare wall till he had passed down two sides, and was half-way along the third, when he uttered a hasty ejaculation. "it's all right, jem. here is a way into another cellar." "mind how you go, sir. steady." "yes, but make haste." "there's a door," whispered don. "loose my hand." he hastily felt all over the door, but it was perfectly blank, not so much as a keyhole to be found, and though he pressed and strained at it, he could make no impression. "it's no use, jem. let's try the other door." "i don't believe there are no other door," said jem. "that's the way out." "no, no; the way out is on the other side." "this here is t'other side," said jem, "only we arn't over there now." "i'm sure it can't be." "and i'm sure it can be, my lad. nothing arn't more puzzling than being shut up in the dark. you loses yourself directly, and then you can't find yourself again." "but the door where the men went out is over there." "yah! that it arn't," cried jem. "don't throw your fisties about that how. that's my nose." "i'm very sorry, jem. i did not mean--" "course you didn't, but that's what i said. when you're in the dark you don't know where you are, nor where any one else is." "let's try down that other side, and i'll show you that you are wrong." "can't show me, my lad. you may make me feel, but you did that just now when you hit me on the nose. well? fun' it?" "no, not yet," said don, as he crept slowly along from the doorway; and then carefully on and on, till he must have come to the place from which they started. "no, not yet," grumbled jem. "nor more you won't if you go on for ever." "i'm afraid you're right, jem." "i'm right, and i arn't afraid," said jem; "leastwise, save that my head's going on aching for ever." don felt all round the cellar again, and then heaved a sigh. "yes; there's only one door, jem. could we break it down?" "i could if i'd some of the cooper's tools," said jem, quietly; "but you can't break strong doors with your fisties, and you can't get out of brick cellars with your teeth." "of course, we're underground." "ay! no doubt about that, mas' don." "let's knock and ask for a pencil and paper to send a message." jem uttered a loud chuckle as he seated himself on the floor. "i like that, mas' don. 'pon my word i do. might just as well hit your head again the wall." "better use yours for a battering ram, jem," said don, angrily. "it's thicker than mine." there was silence after this. "he's sulky because of what i've said," thought don. "oh, my poor head!" thought jem. "how it do ache!" then he began to think about sally, and what she would say or do when she found that he did not come back. just at the same time don was reflecting upon his life of late, and how discontented he had been, and how he had longed to go away, while now he felt as if he would give anything to be back on his old stool in the office, writing hard, and trying his best to be satisfied with what seemed to be a peaceful, happy life. a terrible sensation of despair came over him, and the idea of being dragged off to a ship, and carried right away, was unbearable. what were glorious foreign lands with their wonders to one who would be thought of as a cowardly thief? as he leaned against a wall there in the darkness his busy brain pictured his stern-looking uncle telling his weeping mother that it was a disgrace to her to mourn over the loss of a son who could be guilty of such a crime, and then run away to avoid his punishment. "oh! if i had only been a little wiser," thought don, "how much happier i might have been." then he forced himself to think out a way of escape, a little further conversation with jem making him feel that he must depend upon himself, for poor jem's injury seemed to make him at times confused; in fact, he quite startled his fellow-prisoner by exclaiming suddenly,-- "now where did i put them keys?" "jem!" "eh? all right, sally. 'tarn't daylight yet." "jem, my lad, don't you know where you are?" "don't i tell you? phew! my head. you there, mas' don?" "yes, jem. how are you?" "oh, lively, sir, lively; been asleep, i think. keep a good heart, mas' don, and--" "hist! here they come," cried don, as he saw the gleam of a light through the cracks of the door. "jem, do you think you could make a dash of it as soon as they open the door?" "no, mas' don, not now. my head's all of a boom-whooz, and i seem to have no use in my legs." "oh!" ejaculated don despairingly. "but never you mind me, my lad. you make a run for it, dive down low as soon as the door's open. that's how to get away." _cling_! _clang_! two bolts were shot back and a flood--or after the intense darkness what seemed to be a flood--of light flashed into the cellar, as the bluff man entered with another bearing the lanthorn. then there was a great deal of shuffling of feet as if heavy loads were being borne down some stone steps; and as don looked eagerly at the party, it was to see four sailors, apparently wounded, perhaps dead, carried in and laid upon the floor. a thrill of horror ran through don. he had heard of the acts of the press-gangs as he might have heard of any legend, and then they had passed from his mind; but now all this was being brought before him and exemplified in a way that was terribly real. these four men just carried in were the last victims of outrage, and his indignation seemed to be boiling up within him when the bluff-looking man said good-humouredly,-- "that's the way to get them, my lad. those four fellows made themselves tipsy and went to sleep, merchant sailors; they'll wake up to-morrow morning with bad headaches and in his majesty's service. fine lesson for them to keep sober." don looked at the men with disgust. a few moments before he felt indignant, and full of commiseration for them; but the bluff man's words had swept all that away. then, crossing to where the man stood by the lanthorn-bearer, don laid his hand upon his arm. "you are not going to keep us, sir?" he said quietly. "my mother and my uncle will be very uneasy at my absence, and jem--our man, has a young wife." "no, no; can't listen to you, my lad," said the bluff man; "it's very hard, i know, but the king's ships must be manned--and boyed," he added with a laugh. "but my mother?" "yes, i'm sorry for your mother, but you're too old to fret about her. we shall make a man of you, and that chap's young wife will have to wait till he comes back." "but you will let me send a message to them at home?" "to come and fetch you away, my lad? well, hardly. we don't give that facility to pressed men to get away. there, be patient; we will not keep you in this hole long." he glanced at the four sleeping men, and turned slowly to go, giving don a nod of the head, but, as he neared the door he paused. "not very nice for a lad like you," he said, not unkindly. "here, bring these two out, my lads; we'll stow them in the warehouse. rather hard on the lad to shut him up with these swine. here, come along." a couple of the press-gang seized don by the arms, and a couple more paid jem wimble the same attention, after which they were led up a flight of steps, the door was banged to and bolted, and directly after they were all standing on the floor of what had evidently been used as a tobacco warehouse, where the lanthorn light showed a rough step ladder leading up to another floor. "where shall we put 'em, sir?" said a sailor. "top floor and make fast," said the bluff man. "but you will let me send word home?" began don. "i shall send you back into that lock-up place below, and perhaps put you in irons," said the man sternly. "be content with what i am doing for you. now then, up with you, quick!--" there was nothing for it but to obey, and with a heavy heart don followed the man with the lanthorn as he led the way to the next floor, jem coming next, and a guard of two well-armed men and their bluff superior closing up the rear. the floor they reached was exactly like the one they had left, and they ascended another step ladder to the next, and then to the next. "there's a heap of bags and wrappers over yonder to lie down on, my lads," said the bluff man. "there, go to sleep and forget your troubles. you shall have some prog in the morning. now, my men, sharp's the word." they had ascended from floor to floor through trap-doors, and as don looked anxiously at his captors, the man who carried the lanthorn stooped and raised a heavy door from the floor and held it and the light as his companions descended, following last and drawing down the heavy trap over his head. the door closed with a loud clap, a rusty bolt was shot, and then, as the two prisoners stood in the darkness listening, there was a rasping noise, and then a crash, which don interpreted to mean that the heavy step ladder had been dragged away and half laid, half thrown upon the floor below. then the sounds died away. "this is a happy sort o' life, mas' don," said jem, breaking the silence. "what's to be done next? oh! my head, my head!" "i don't know, jem," said don despondently. "it's enough to make one wish one was dead." "dead! wish one was dead, sir? oh, come. it's bad enough to be knocked down and have the headache. dead! no, no. where did he say them bags was?" "i don't know, jem." "well, let's look. i want to lie down and have a sleep." "sleep? at a time like this!" "why not, sir? i'm half asleep now. can't do anything better as i see." "jem," said don passionately, "we're being punished for all our discontent and folly, and it seems more than i can bear." "but we must bear it, sir. that's what you've got to do when you're punished. don't take on, sir. p'r'aps, it won't seem so bad when it gets light. here, help me find them bags he talked about." don was too deep in thought, for the face of his mother was before him, and he seemed to see the agony she suffered on his account. "justly punished," he kept muttering; "justly punished, and now it is too late--too late." "here y'are, mas' don," cried jem; "lots of 'em, and i can't help it, i must lie down, for my head feels as if it was going to tumble off." don heard him make a scuffling noise, as if he were very busy moving some sacks. "there!" jem cried at last; "that's about it. now, mas' don, i've made you up a tidy bed; come and lie down." "no, jem, no; i'm not sleepy." "then i must," muttered jem; and after a little more scuffling noise all was still for a few minutes, after which there was a regular heavy breathing, which told that the great trouble he was in had not been sufficient to keep jem wimble awake. don stood for some time in the darkness, but by degrees a wretched feeling of weariness came over him, and he sat down painfully upon the floor, drawing his knees up to his chin, embracing them, and laying his head upon them. he wanted to think of his position, of his folly, and of the trouble which it had brought upon him. jem's heavy breathing came regularly from somewhere to his left, and he found himself, as he crouched together there in the darkness, envying the poor fellow, much as he was injured. "but then he has not so much on his mind as i have," thought don. "once let me get clear away from here, how different i will be." chapter thirteen. how to escape? _rumble_! _bump_! don started and stared, for something had shaken him as if a sudden blow had been given against the floor. what did it all mean? where was he? what window was that through which the sun shone brightly, and why was he in that rough loft, in company with a man lying asleep on some sacks? memory filled up the vacuum directly, and he knew that his head was aching, and that he had been fast asleep. _crash_! that was a bolt shot back, and the noise which awakened him must have been the big step ladder placed against the beam beneath the trap-door. as don watched he saw the trap, like a square piece of the floor, rise up slowly, and a rough, red face appear, framed in hair. "ship ahoy!" shouted the owner of the face. "what cheer, messmates? want your hot water?" just then the man, whose hands were out of sight, and who had kept on pushing up the trap-door with his head, gave it a final thrust, and the door fell over with a loud _flap_, which made jem wimble sit up, with his face so swollen and bruised that his eyes were half-closed; and this and his dirty face gave him an aspect that was more ludicrous than strange. "what's the matter?" he said sharply. "who are you? i--where--was--to me. have i been a-dreaming? no: we're pressed!" "pressed you are, my lads; and bosun jones has sent you up some hot slops and soft tack. there you are. find your own tablecloth and silliver spoons." he placed a large blue jug before them, in which was some steaming compound, covered by a large breakfast cup, stuck in the mouth of the jug, while on a plate was a fair-sized pile of bread and butter. "there you are, messmates; say your grace and fall to." "look here," said don quickly. "you know we were taken by the press-gang last night?" "do i know? why, didn't i help?" "oh!" ejaculated don, with a look of revulsion, which he tried to conceal. "look here," he said; "if you will take a message for me to my mother, in jamaica street, you shall have a guinea." "well, that's handsome, anyhow," said the man, laughing. "what am i to say to the old lady?" "that we have been seized by the press-gang, and my uncle is to try and get us away." "that all?" "yes, that's all. will you go?" "hadn't you better have your breakfuss?" "breakfast? no," said don. "i can't eat." "better. keep you going, my lad." "will you take my message?" "no, i won't." "you shall have two guineas." "where are they?" "my mother will gladly give them to you." "dessay she will." "and you will go?" "do you know what a bosun's mate is, my lad?" "i? no. i know nothing about the sea." "you will afore long. well, i'll tell you; bosun's mate's a gentleman kep' aboard ship to scratch the crew's backs." "you are laughing at me," cried don angrily. "not a bit of it, my lad. if i was to do what you want, i should be tied up to-morrow, and have my back scratched." "flogged?" "that's it." "for doing a kind act? for saving my poor mother from trouble and anxiety?" "for not doing my dooty, my lad. there, a voyage or two won't hurt you. why, i was a pressed man, and look at me." "main-top ahoy! are you coming down?" came from below. "ay, ay, sir!" shouted the sailor. "wasn't that the man who had us shut up here?" cried don. "to be sure: bosun jones," said the man, running to the trap and beginning to descend. "you'll take my message?" "nay, not i," said the man, shaking his head. "there, eat your breakfuss, and keep your head to the wind, my lads." _bang_! the door was shut heavily and the rusty bolt shot. then the two prisoners listened to the descending footsteps and to the murmur of voices from below, after which don looked across the steaming jug at jem, and jem returned the stare. "mornin', mas' don," he said. "rum game, arn't it?" "do you think he'll take my message, jem?" "not a bit on it, sir. you may take your oath o' that." "will they take us aboard ship?" "yes, sir, and make sailors on us, and your uncle's yard 'll go to rack and ruin; and there was two screws out o' one o' the shutter hinges as i were going to put in to-day." "jem, we must escape them." "all right, mas' don, sir. 'arter breakfast." "breakfast? who is to eat breakfast?" "i am, sir. feels as if it would do me good." "but we must escape, jem--escape." "yes, sir; that's right," said jem, taking off the cup, and sniffing at the jug. "coffee, sir. got pretty well knocked about last night, and i'm as sore this morning as if they'd been rolling casks all over me. but a man must eat." "eat then, and drink then, for goodness' sake," cried don impatiently. "thankye, sir," said jem; and he poured out a cup of steaming coffee, sipped it, sipped again, took three or four mouthfuls of bread and butter, and then drained the cup. "mas' don!" he cried, "it's lovely. do have a cup. make you see clear." as he spoke he refilled the mug and handed it to don, who took it mechanically, and placed it to his lips, one drop suggesting another till he had finished the cup. "now a bit o' bread and butter, mas' don?" don shook his head, but took the top piece, and began mechanically to eat, while jem partook of another cup, there being a liberal allowance of some three pints. "that's the way, sir. wonderful what a difference breakfuss makes in a man. eat away, sir; and if they don't look out we'll give them press-gang." "yes, but how, jem? how?" "lots o' ways, sir. we'll get away, for one thing, or fasten that there trap-door down; and then they'll be the prisoners, not us. 'nother cup, sir? go on with the bread and butter. i say, sir, do i look lively?" "lively?" "i mean much knocked about? my face feels as if the skin was too tight, and as if i couldn't get on my hat." "it does not matter, jem," said don, quietly. "you have no hat." "more i haven't. i remember feeling it come off, and it wasn't half wore out. have some more coffee, mas' don. 'tarnt so good as my sally makes. i'd forgot all about her just then. wonder whether she's eating her breakfast?" don sighed and went on eating. he was horribly low-spirited, but his youthful appetite once started, he felt the need of food, and kept on in silence, passing and receiving the cup till all was gone. "that job's done," said jem, placing the jug on the plate, and the cup in the mouth of the jug. "now then, i'm ready, mas' don. you said escape, didn't you, sir?" "yes. what shall we do?" "well, we can't go down that way, sir, because the trap-door's bolted." "there is the window, jem." "skylights, you mean, sir," said jem, looking up at the sloping panes in the roof. "well, let's have a look. will you get a-top o' my shoulders, or shall i get a-top o' yourn?" "i couldn't bear you, jem." "then up you gets, my lad, like the tumblers do at the fair." it seemed easy enough to get up and stand on the sturdy fellow's shoulders, but upon putting it to the test, don found it very hard, and after a couple of failures he gave up, and they stood together looking up at the sloping window, which was far beyond their reach. "dessay it's fastened, so that we couldn't open it," said jem. "the fox said the grapes were sour when he could not get at them, jem." "that's true, mas' don. well, how are we to get up?" they looked round the loft, but, with the exception of the old sacking lying at one end, the place was bare. "here, come to the end, jem, and let me have another try," said don. "right, sir; come on," cried jem; and going right to the end of the loft, he bent his body a little and leaned his hands against the wall. this simplified matters. "stand fast, jem," cried don, and taking a spring, he landed upon his companion's broad back, leap-frog fashion, but only to jump off again. "what's the matter, mas' don?" "only going to take off my shoes." "ah, 'twill be better. i didn't grumble before, but you did hurt, sir." don slipped off his shoes, uttered a word or two of warning, and once more mounted on jem's back. it was easy then to get into a kneeling, and then to a standing, position, the wall being at hand to steady him. "that's your sort, mas' don. now hold fast, and step up on to my shoulders as i rise myself up; that's the way," he continued, slowly straightening himself, and placing his hands behind don's legs, as he stood up, steadily, facing the wall. "what next, jem?" "next, sir? why, i'm going to walk slowly back under the window, for you to try and open it, and look out and see where we are. ready?" "yes." "hold tight, sir." "but there's nothing to hold by, jem, when you move away." "then you must stand fast, sir, and i'll balance you like. i can do it." don drew a long breath, and felt no faith, for as soon as jem moved steadily from the wall, his ability in balancing was not great. "stand firm, sir. i've got you," he said. "am i too heavy, jem?" "heavy? no, sir; i could carry two on you. stand fast; 'tarn't far. stand fast. that's your sort. stand--oh!" everything depended upon him, and poor jem did his best; but after three or four steps don felt that he was going, and to save himself from a fall he tried to jump lightly down. this would have been easy enough had not jem been so earnest. he, too, felt that it was all wrong, and to save his companion, he tightened his hold of the calves of don's legs as the lad stood erect on his shoulders. the consequence was that he gave don sufficient check as he leaped to throw him off his balance; and in his effort to save him, jem lost his own, and both came down with a crash and sat up and rubbed and looked at each other. "arn't hurt, are you, mas' don?" "not hurt?" grumbled don. "i am hurt horribly." "i'm very sorry, sir; so am i. but i arn't broke nowhere! are you?" "broken? no!" said don rising. "there, let's try again." "to be sure, sir. come, i like that." "look here, jem. when you straighten up, let me steady myself with my hands on the sloping ceiling there; now try." the former process was gone through, after listening to find all silent below; and don stood erect once more, supporting himself by the wall. "now edge round gently, jem. that's right." jem obeyed, and by progressing very slowly, they got to within about ten feet of the window, which don saw that he could reach easily, when the balance was lost once more. "don't hold, jem!" cried don; and he leaped backwards, to come down all right this time. by no means discouraged, they went back to the end; and this time, by progressing more slowly, the window was reached, and, to their great delight, don found that it was fastened inside, opening outwards by means of a couple of hinges at the highest end, and provided with a ratchet, to keep it open to any distance required. "can you bear me if i try to open it, jem?" "can i? ah!" jem was a true bearer, standing as fast as a small elephant as don opened the window, and then supporting himself by a beam which ran across the opening, thrust out his head and surveyed the exterior. he was not long in making out their position--in the top floor of a warehouse, the roof sloping, so that escape along it was impossible, while facing him was the blank wall of a higher building, evidently on the other side of a narrow alley. don looked to right, but there was no means of making their position known so as to ask for help. to the left he was no better off, and seeing that the place had been well chosen as a temporary lock-up for the impressed men, don prepared to descend. "better shut the window fust, mas' don." the suggestion was taken, and then don leaped down and faced his fellow-prisoner, repeating the information he had roughly communicated before. "faces a alley, eh?" said jem. "can't we go along the roof." "i don't believe a cat could go in safety, jem." "well, we aren't cats, mas' don, are we? faces a alley, eh? wasn't there no windows opposit'?" "nothing but a blank wall." "well, it's all right, mas' don. we'd better set to work. only wants a rope with one end fastened in here, and then we could slide down." "yes," said don gloomily; "the window is unfastened, and the way clear, but where's the rope?" "there," said jem, and he pointed to the end of the loft. chapter fourteen. working under difficulties. "there. those sacks?" "that's it, mas' don. i've got my knife. you got yourn?" "yes." "then here goes, then, to unravel them sacks till we've got enough to make a rope. this loft's a capital place to twist him. it's all right, sir, only help me work away, and to-night we'll be safe home." "to-night, jem? not before?" "why, we sha'n't have the rope ready; and if we had, it would be no use to try by daylight. no, sir; we must wait till it's dark, and work away. if we hear any one coming we can hide the rope under the other sacks; so come on." they seated themselves at the end of the loft, and worked away rapidly unravelling the sacking and rolling the yarn up into balls, each of which was hidden as soon as it became of any size. as the hours went on, and they were not interrupted, the dread increased that they might be summoned to descend as prisoners before they had completed their work; but jem's rough common sense soon suggested that this was not likely to be the case. "not afore night, mas' don," he said. "they won't take us aboard in the day. we're smuggled goods, we are; and if they don't mind, we shall be too many for them. 'nother hour, and i shall begin to twist up our rope." about midday the same sailor came up and brought them some bread and meat. "that's right, my lads," he said. "you're taking it sensible, and that's the best way. if we've any luck to-night, you'll go aboard afore morning. there, i mustn't stop." he hurried down, closing and fastening the trap, and jem pointed to the food. "eat away, mas' don, and work same time. strikes me we sha'n't go aboard afore close upon daylight, for they've got us all shut up here snug, so as no one shall know, and they don't dare take us away while people can see. strikes me they won't get all the men aboard this time, eh, mas' don?" "not if we can prevent it," said don, with his hand upon the rough piece of sacking which covered his share of the work. "think it's safe to begin again?" "ay! go on. little at a time, my lad, and be ready to hide it as soon as you hears a step." in spite of their trouble, they ate with a fair appetite, sharpened perhaps by the hope of escape, and the knowledge that they must not be faint and weak at the last moment. the meal was finished, and all remaining silent, they worked on unravelling the sacking, and rolling up the yarn, don thinking of home, and jem whistling softly a doleful air. "if we don't get away, mas' don," he said, after a pause, "and they take us aboard ship and make sailors of us--" "don't talk like that, jem! we must--we will get away." "oh, yes, it's all very well to talk, mas' don, but it's as well to be prepared for the worst. like as not we sha'n't get away, and then we shall go aboard, be made sailors, and have to fight the french." "i shall not believe that, jem, till it takes place." "i shall, my lad, and i hope when i'm far away as your mother, as is a reg'lar angel, will do what's right by my sally, as is a married woman, but only a silly girl after all, as says and does things without thinking what they mean. i was horrid stupid to take so much notice of all she said, and all through that i'm here." "haven't we got enough ready, jem?" said don, impatiently, for his companion's words troubled him. they seemed to fit his own case. "yes, i should think that will do now, sir, so let's begin and twist up a rope. we sha'n't want it very thick." "but we shall want it very strong, jem." "here goes, then, to make it," said jem, taking the balls of yarn, knotting the ends together, and then taking a large piece of sack and placing it beside him. "to cover up the stuff if we hear any one coming, my lad. now then, you pay out, and i'll twist. mustn't get the yarn tangled." don set to work earnestly, and watched his companion, who cleverly twisted away at the gathered-up yarn, and then rolled his work up into a ball. the work was clumsy, but effective, and in a short time he had laid up a few yards of a very respectable line, which seemed quite capable of bearing them singly. foot by foot the line lengthened, and the balls of yarn grew less, when just in the middle of their task don made a dash at jem, and threw down the yarn. "here, what yer doing? you'll get everything in a tangle, sir." "hush! some one coming." "i can't hear him." "there is, i tell you. listen!" jem held his head on one side like a magpie, and then shook it. "nobody," he said; but hardly had he said the words than he dabbed the rope under him, and seized upon the yarn, threw some of the old sacks upon it, and then laid his hand on don's shoulder, just as the trap-door was raised softly a few inches, and a pair of eyes appeared at the broad crack. then the trap made a creaking noise, and a strange sailor came up, to find jem seated on the floor tailor-fashion, and don lying upon his face, with his arms crossed beneath his forehead, and some of the old sacking beneath him. the man came up slowly, and laid the trap back in a careful way, as if to avoid making a noise, and then, after a furtive look at jem, who gave him a sturdy stare in return, he stood leaning over the opening and listening. footsteps were heard directly after, and a familiar voice gave some order. directly after the bluff-looking man with whom they had had so much dealing stepped up into the loft. "well, my lads," he said, "how are the sore places?" jem did not answer. "sulky, eh? ah, you'll soon get over that. now, my boy, let's have a look at you." he gave don a clap on the shoulder, and the lad started up as if from sleep, and stared at the fresh comer. "won't do," said the bluff man, laughing. "men don't wake up from sleep like that. ah! of course: now you are turning red in the face. didn't want to speak to me, eh? well, you are all right, i see." don did not attempt to rise from where he half sat, half lay, and the man gave a sharp look round, letting his eyes rest; for a few moments upon the window, and then turning them curiously upon the old sacking. to don's horror he approached and picked up a piece close to that which served for a couch. "how came all this here?" he said sharply. "old stuff, sir. been used for the bales o' 'bacco, i s'pose," said the furtive-looking man. "humph. and so you have made a bed of it, eh? let's have a look." the perspiration stood on don's forehead. "well," said the bluff man, "why don't you get up? quick!" he took a step nearer don, and was in the act of stooping to take him by the arm, when there was a hail from below. "ahoy!" shouted the sailor, bending over the trap-door. "wants mr jones," came up. "luff wants you, sir," said the man. "right. there, cheer up, my lads; you might be worse off than you are," said the bluff visitor pleasantly. then, clapping don on the shoulder, "don't sulk, my lad. make the best of things. you're in the king's service now, so take your fate like a man." he nodded and crossed to the trap. "ahoy, there! below there! i'm coming.--can't expect a bosun to break his neck." he said these last words as his head and shoulders were above the floor, and gave the prisoners a friendly nod just as his eyes were disappearing. "come along, my lad," he said, when he was out of sight. "ay! ay!" growled the furtive-looking man, slowly following, and giving those he left behind a very peculiar smile, which he lengthened out in time and form, till he was right down the ladder, with the trap-door drawn over and resting upon his head. this he slowly lowered, till only his eyes and brow were seen, and he stayed like that watching for a minute, then let the lid close with a _flap_, and shut him, as it were, in a box. "gone!" said jem. "lor', how i should ha' liked to go and jump on that there trap just while he was holding it up with his head. i'd ha' made it ache for him worse than they made mine." "hist! don't talk so loud," whispered don. "he listens." "i hope he's a-listening now," said jem, loudly; "a lively smiling sort of a man. that's what he is, mas' don. sort o' man always on the blue sneak." don held up his hand. "think they suspect anything, jem?" he whispered. "sometimes i do, and sometimes i don't, mas' don. that stoutish chap seemed to smell a rat, and that smiling door-knocker fellow was all on the spy; but i don't think he heared anything, and i'm sure he didn't see. now, then, can you tell me whether they're coming back?" don shook his head, and they remained thinking and watching for nearly an hour before jem declared that they must risk it. "one minute," said don; and he went on tip-toe as far as the trap-door, and lying down, listened and applied his eyes to various cracks, before feeling convinced that no one was listening. "why, you didn't try if it was fastened," cried jem; and taking out his knife, he inserted it opposite to the hinges, and tried to lever up the door. it was labour in vain, for the bolt had been shot. "they don't mean to let us go, mas' don," said jem. "come on, and let's get the rope done." they returned to the sacking, lifted it up, and taking out the unfinished rope, worked away rapidly, but with the action of sparrows feeding in a road--one peck and two looks out for danger. half-a-dozen times at least the work was hidden, some sound below suggesting danger, while over and over again, in spite of their efforts, the rope advanced so slowly, and the result was so poor, that don felt in despair of its being done by the time they wanted it, and doubtful whether if done it would bear their weight. he envied jem's stolid patience and the brave way in which he worked, twisting, and knotting about every three feet, while every time their eyes met jem gave him an encouraging nod. whether to be successful or not, the making of the rope did one thing-- it relieved them of a great deal of mental strain. in fact, don stared wonderingly at the skylight, as it seemed to him to have suddenly turned dark. "going to be a storm, jem," he said. "will the rain hurt the rope?" "storm, mas' don? why, it's as clear as clear. getting late, and us not done." "but the rope must be long enough now." "think so, sir?" "yes; and if it is not, we can easily drop the rest of the way." "what! and break our legs, or sprain our ankles, and be caught? no let's make it another yard or two." "hist! quick!" they were only just in time, for almost before they had thrown the old sacking over the rope, the bolt of the trap-door was thrust back, and the sinister-looking sailor entered with four more, to give a sharp look round the place, and then roughly seize the prisoners. "now, then!" cried jem sharply, "what yer about? arn't going to tie us up, are you?" "yes, if you cut up rough again," said the leader of the little party. "come on." "here, what yer going to do?" cried jem. "do? you'll see. not going to spoil your beauty, mate." don's heart sank low. all that hopeful labour over the rope thrown away! and he cast a despairing look at jem. "never mind, my lad," whispered the latter. "more chances than one." "now then! no whispering. come along!" shouted the sinister-looking man, fiercely. "come on down. bring 'em along." don cast another despairing look at jem, and then marched slowly toward the opening in the floor. chapter fifteen. a desperate attempt. just as the prisoners reached the trap-door a voice came from below. "hold hard there, my lads. bosun jones has been down to the others, and he says these here may stop where they are." "what for?" "oh, one o' the four chaps we brought in last night's half wild, and been running amuck. come on down." "yah!" growled the sinister sailor, scowling at jem, as if there were some old enmity between them. "i say, don't," said jem mockingly. "you'll spoil your good looks. say, does he always look as handsome as that?" the man doubled his fist, and made a sharp blow at jem, and seemed surprised at the result; for jem dodged, and retorted, planting his fist in the fellow's chest, and sending him staggering back. the man's eyes blazed as he recovered himself, and rushed at jem like a bull-dog. obeying his first impulse, don, who had never struck a blow in anger since he left school, forgot fair play for the moment, and doubled his fists to help jem. "no, no, mas' don; i can tackle him," cried jem; "and i feel as if i should like to now." but there was to be no encounter, for a couple of the other sailors seized their messmate, and forced him to the trap-door, growling and threatening all manner of evil to the sturdy little prisoner, who was standing on his defence. "no, no, mate," said the biggest and strongest of the party; "it's like hitting a man as is down. come on." there was another struggle, but the brute was half thrust to the ladder, and directly after the trap was closed again, and the bolt shot. "well, i never felt so much like fighting before--leastwise not since i thrashed old mike behind the barrel stack in the yard," said jem, resuming his coat, which he had thrown off. "did you fight mike in the yard one day?" said don wonderingly. "why, jem, i remember; that's when you had such a dreadful black eye." "that's right, my lad." "and pretended you fell down the ladder out of floor number six." "that's right again, mas' don," said jem, grinning. "then that was a lie?" "well, i don't know 'bout it's being a lie, my lad. p'r'aps you might call it a kind of a sort of a fib." "fib? it was an untruth." "well, but don't you see, it would have looked so bad to say, `i got that eye a-fighting?' and it was only a little while 'fore i was married. what would my sally ha' said if she know'd i fought our mike?" "why, of course; i remember now, mike was ill in bed for a week at the same time." "that's so, mas' don," said jem, chuckling; "and he was werry ill. you see, he come to the yard to work, after you'd begged him on, and he was drunk as a fiddler--not as ever i see a fiddler that way. and then, i'stead o' doing his work, he was nasty, and began cussing. he cussed everything, from the barrow and truck right up to your uncle, whose money he took, and then he began cussing o' you, mas' don; and i told him he ought to be ashamed of hisself for cussing the young gent as got him work; and no sooner had i said that than i found myself sitting in a puddle, with my nose bleeding." "well?" said don, who was deeply interested. "well, mas' don, that's all." "no, it isn't, jem; you say you fought mike." "well, i s'pose i did, mas' don." "`suppose you did'?" "yes; i only recklect feeling wild because my clean shirt and necktie was all in a mess. i don't recklect any more--only washing my sore knuckles at the pump, and holding a half hun'erd weight up again my eye." "but mike stopped away from work for a week." "yes, mas' don. he got hisself a good deal hurt somehow." "you mean you hurt him?" "dunno, mas' don. s'pose i did, but i don't 'member nothing about it. and now look here, sir; seems to me that in half-hour's time it'll be quite dark enough to start; and if i'd got five guineas, i'd give 'em for five big screws, and the use of a gimlet and driver." "what for?" "to fasten down that there trap." "it would be no good, jem; because if they found the trap fast, they'd be on the watch for us outside." "dessay you're right, sir. well, what do you say? shall we begin now, or wait?" don looked up at the fast darkening skylight, and then, after a moment's hesitation,-- "let's begin now, jem. it will take some time." "that's right, mas' don; so here goes, and good luck to us. it means home, and your mother, and my sally; or going to fight the french." "and we don't want to be obliged to fight without we like, jem." "that's true," said jem; and going quickly to the trap, he laid his ear to the crack and listened. "all right, my lad. have it out," he said; and the sacks were cast aside, and the rope withdrawn. "will it bear us, jem?" "i'm going to try first, and if it'll bear me it'll bear you." "but you can't get up there." "no, but you can, my lad; and when you're there you can fasten the rope to that cross-bar, and then i can soon be with you. ready?" "wait till i've got off my shoes." "that's right; stick 'em in your pockets, my lad. now then, ready?" don signified his readiness. jem laid him a back up at the end wall. don mounted, and then jumped down again. "what's the matter?" "i haven't got the rope." "my: what a head i have!" cried jem, as don tightly knotted the rope about his waist; and then, mounting on his companion's back once more, was borne very slowly, steadying himself by the sloping roof, till the window was reached. "hold fast, jem." "right it is, my lad." there was a clicking of the iron fastening, the window was thrust up higher and higher, till it was to the full extent of the ratchet support, and then by passing one arm over the light cross-beam, which divided the opening in two, don was able to raise himself, and throw his leg over the front of the opening, so that the next minute he was sitting on the edge with one leg down the sloping roof, and the other hanging inside, but in a very awkward position, on account of the broad skylight. "can't you open it more?" said jem. "no; that's as far as the fastening will hold it up." "push it right over, mas' don, so as it may lie back against the roof. mind what you're doing, so as you don't slip. but you'll be all right. i've got the rope, and won't let it go." don did as he was told, taking tightly hold of the long cross central bar, and placing his knees, and then his feet, against the front of the opening, so that he was in the position of a four-footed animal. then his back raised up the hinged skylight higher and higher, till, holding on to the cross-bar with one hand, and the ratchet fastening with the other, he thrust up and up, till the skylight was perpendicular, and he paused, panting with the exertion. "all right, mas' don; i've got the rope. now lower it down gently, till it lies flat on the slope. that's the way; steady! steady!" _bang_! _crash_! _jingle_! "oh, mas' don!" "i couldn't help it, jem; the iron fastening came out. the wood's rotten." for the skylight had fallen back with a crash, and some of the broken glass came musically jingling down, some of it sliding along the tiles, and dropping into the alley below. there was a dead silence, neither of the would-be evaders of the enforced king's service moving, but listening intently for the slightest sound. "think they heared it, mas' don?" said jem, at last, in a hoarse whisper. "i can't hear anything," replied don, softly. they listened again, but all was wonderfully quiet. a distant murmur came from the busy streets, and a clock struck nine. "why, that's old church," said jem in a whisper. "we must be close down to the water side, mas' don." "yes, jem. shall we give it up, or risk it?" "i'll show you d'reckly," said jem. "you make that there end fast round the bar. it isn't rotten, is it?" "no," said don, after an examination; "it seems very solid." and untying the rope from his waist, he knotted it to the little beam. the next minute jem gave a heavy drag at the rope, then a jerk, and next swung to it, going to and fro for a few seconds. "hold a ton," whispered jem; and reaching up as high as he could, he gripped the rope between his legs and over his ankle and foot, and apparently with the greatest ease drew himself up to the bar, threw a leg over and sat astride with his face beaming. "they sha'n't have us this time, mas' don," he said, running the rope rapidly through his hands until he had reached the end, when he gathered it up in rings, till he had enough to throw beyond the sloping roof. "here goes!" he whispered; and he tossed it from him into the gathering gloom. the falling rope made a dull sound, and then there was a sharp gliding noise. one of the broken fragments of glass had been started from where it had lodged, and slid rapidly down the tiles. they held their breath as they waited to hear it fall tinkling beyond on the pavement; but they listened in vain, for the simple reason that it had fallen into the gutter. "all right, mas' don! here goes!" said jem, and he lowered the rope to its full extent. "hadn't i better go first, and try the rope, jem?" "what's the good o' your going first? it might break, and then what would your mother say to me? i'll go; and, as i said afore, if it bears me, it'll bear you." "but, if it breaks, what shall i say to little sally?" "well, i wouldn't go near her if i was you, mas' don. she might take on, and then it wouldn't be nice; or she mightn't take on, and that wouldn't be nice. hist! what's that?" "can't hear anything, jem." "more can i. here, shake hands, lad, case i has a tumble." "don't, don't risk it, jem," whispered don, clinging to his hand. "what! after making the rope! oh, come, mas' don, where's your pluck? now then, i'm off; and when i'm down safe, i'll give three jerks at the line, and then hold it steady. here goes--once to be ready, twice to be steady, three times to be--off!" don's heart felt in his mouth as his companion grasped the rope tightly, and let himself glide down the steep tiled slope, till he reached the edge over the gutter; and then, as he disappeared, dissolving--so it seemed--into the gloom, don's breath was held, and he felt a singular pain at the chest. he grasped the rope, though, as he sat astride at the lower edge of the opening; and the loosely twisted hemp seemed to palpitate and quiver as if it were one of jem's muscles reaching to his hands. then all at once the rope became slack, as if the tension had been removed, and don turned faint with horror. "it's broken!" he panted; and he strained over as far as he could without falling to hear the dull thud of his companion's fall. thoughts fly fast, and in a moment of time don had seen poor jem lying crushed below, picked up, and had borne the news to his little wife. but before he had gone any further, the rope was drawn tight once more, and as he held it, there came to thrill his nerves three distinct jerks. "it's all right!" he panted; and grasped the rope with both hands. "now then," he thought, "it only wants a little courage, and i can slide down and join him, and then we're free." yes; but it required a good deal of resolution to make the venture. "suppose jem's weight had unwound the rope; suppose it should break; suppose--" "oh, what a coward i am!" he muttered; and swinging his leg free, he lay upon his face for a moment, right upon the sloping tiles and then let the rope glide through his hands. it was very easy work down that slope, only that elbows and hands suffered, and sundry sounds suggested that waistcoat buttons were being torn off. but that was no moment for studying trifles; and what were waistcoat buttons to liberty? another moment, and his legs were over the edge, and he was about to attempt the most difficult part of the descent, grasping beforehand, that as soon as he hung clear of the eaves, he should begin to turn slowly round. "now for it," he said; and he was about to descend perpendicularly, when the rope was suddenly jerked violently. there was a loud ejaculation, and jem's voice rose to where he hung. "no, no, mas' don. back! back! don't come down." then, as he hung, there came the panting and noise of a terrible struggle far below. chapter sixteen. prisoners again. don's grasp tightened on the rope, and as he lay there, half on, half off the slope, listening, with the beads of perspiration gathering on his forehead, he heard from below shouts, the trampling of feet and struggling. "they've attacked jem," he thought. "what shall i do? go to his help?" before he could come to a decision the noise ceased and all was perfectly still. don hung there thinking. what should he do--slide down and try to escape, or climb back? jem was evidently retaken, and to escape would be cowardly, he thought; and in this spirit he began to draw himself slowly back till, after a great deal of exertion, he had contrived to get his legs beyond the eaves, and there he rested, hesitating once more. just then he heard voices below, and holding on by one hand, he rapidly drew up a few yards of the rope, making his leg take the place of another hand. there was a good deal of talking, and he caught the word "rope," but that was all. so he continued his toilsome ascent till he was able to grasp the edge of the skylight opening, up to which he dragged himself, and sat listening, astride, as he had been before the attempt was made. all was so still that he was tempted to slide down and escape for no sound suggested that any one was on the watch. but jem! poor jem! it was like leaving him in the lurch. still, he thought, if he did get away, he might give the alarm, and find help to save jem from being taken away. "and if they came up and found me gone," he muttered, "they would take jem off aboard ship directly, and it would be labour in vain." "oh! let go!" the words escaped him involuntarily, for whilst he was pondering, some one had crept into the great loft floor, made a leap, and caught him by the leg, and, in spite of all his efforts to free himself, the man hung on till, unable to kick free, don was literally dragged in and fell, after clinging for a moment to the cross-beam, heavily upon the floor. "i've got him!" cried a hoarse voice, which he recognised. "look sharp with the light." don was on his back half stunned and hurt, and his captor, the sinister-looking man, was sitting upon his chest, half suffocating him, and evidently taking no little pleasure in inflicting pain. footsteps were hurriedly ascending; then there was the glow of a lanthorn, and directly after the bluff-looking man appeared, followed by a couple of sailors, one of whom bore the light. "got him?" "ay, ay! i've got him, sir." "that's right! but do you want to break the poor boy's ribs? get off!" don's friend, the sinister-looking man, rose grumblingly from his captive's chest, and the bluff man laughed. "pretty well done, my lad," he said. "i might have known you two weren't so quiet for nothing. there, cast off that rope, and bring him down." the sinister man gripped don's arm savagely, causing him intense pain, but the lad uttered no cry, and suffered himself to be led down in silence to floor after floor, till they were once more in the basement. "might have broken your neck, you foolish boy," said the bluff man, as a rough door was opened. "you can stop here for a bit. don't try any more games." he gave don a friendly push, and the boy stepped forward once more into a dark cellar, where he remained despairing and motionless as the door was banged behind him, and locked; and then, as the steps died away, he heard a groan. "any one there?" said a faint voice, followed by the muttered words,--"poor mas' don. what will my sally do? what will she do?" "jem, i'm here," said don huskily; and there was a rustling sound in the far part of the dark place. "oh! you there, mas' don? i thought you'd got away." "how could i get away when they had caught you?" said don, reproachfully. "slid down and run. there was no one there to stop you. why, i says to myself when they pounced on me, if i gives 'em all their work to do, they'll be so busy that they won't see mas' don, and he'll be able to get right away. why didn't you slither and go?" "because i should have been leaving you in the lurch, jem; and i didn't want to do that." "well, i--well, of all--there!--why, mas' don, did you feel that way?" "of course i did." "and you wouldn't get away because i couldn't?" "that's what i thought, jem." "well, of all the things i ever heared! now i wonder whether i should have done like that if you and me had been twisted round; i mean, if you had gone down first and been caught." "of course you would, jem." "well, that's what i don't know, mas' don. i'm afraid i should have waited till they'd got off with you, and slipped down and run off." "i don't think you'd have left me, jem." "i dunno, my lad. i should have said to myself, i can bring them as 'ud help get mas' don out; and gone." don thought of his own feelings, and remained silent. "i say, mas' don, though, it's a bad job being caught; but the rope was made strong enough, warn't it?" "yes, but it was labour in vain." "well, p'r'aps it was, sir; but i'm proud of that rope all the same. oh!" jem uttered a dismal groan. "are you hurt, jem?" "hurt, sir! i just am hurt--horrible. 'member when i fell down and the tub went over me?" "and broke your ribs, and we thought you were dead? yes, i remember." "well, i feel just the same as i did then. i went down and a lot of 'em fell on me, and i was kicked and jumped on till i'm just as if all the hoops was off my staves, mas' don; but that arn't the worst of it, because it won't hurt me. i'm a reg'lar wunner to mend again. you never knew any one who got cut as could heal up as fast as me. see how strong my ribs grew together, and so did my leg when i got kicked by that horse." "but are you in much pain now?" "i should just think i am, mas' don; i feel as if i was being cut up with blunt saws as had been made red hot first." "jem, my poor fellow!" groaned don. "now don't go on like that, mas' don, and make it worse." "would they give us a candle, jem, do you think, if i was to knock?" "not they, my lad; and i don't want one. you'd be seeing how queer i looked if you got a light. there, sit down and let's talk." don groped along by the damp wall till he reached the place where his companion lay, and then went down on his knees beside him. "it seems to be all over, jem," he said. "over? not it, my lad. seems to me as if it's all just going to begin." "then we shall be made sailors." "s'pose so, mas' don. well, i don't know as i should so much mind if it warn't for my sally. a man might just as well be pulling ropes as pushing casks and winding cranes." "but we shall have to fight, jem." "well, so long as it's fisties i don't know as i much mind, but if they expect me to chop or shoot anybody, they're mistook." jem became silent, and for a long time his fellow-prisoner felt not the slightest inclination to speak. his thoughts were busy over their attempted escape, and the risky task of descending by the rope. then he thought again of home, and wondered what they would think of him, feeling sure that they would believe him to have behaved badly. his heart ached as he recalled all the past, and how much his present position was due to his own folly and discontent, while, at the end of every scene he evoked, came the thought that no matter how he repented, it was too late--too late! "how are you now, jem?" he asked once or twice, as he tried to pierce the utter darkness; but there was no answer, and at last he relieved the weariness of his position by moving close up to the wall, so as to lean his back against it, and in this position, despite all his trouble, his head drooped forward till his chin rested upon his chest, and he fell fast asleep for what seemed to him only a few minutes, when he started into wakefulness on feeling himself roughly shaken. "rouse up, my lad, sharp!" and looking wonderingly about him, he clapped one hand over his eyes to keep off the glare of an open lanthorn. chapter seventeen. on board. it was a strange experience, and half asleep and confused, don could hardly make out whether he was one of the captives of the press-gang, or a prisoner being conveyed to gaol in consequence of mike bannock's charge. all seemed to be darkness, and the busy gang of armed men about him worked in a silent, furtive way, hurrying their prisoners, of whom, as they all stood together in a kind of yard behind some great gates, there seemed to be about a dozen, some injured, some angry and scowling, and full of complaints and threats now that they were about to be conveyed away; but every angry remonstrance was met by one more severe, and sometimes accompanied by a tap from the butt of a pistol, or a blow given with the hilt or flat of a cutlass. "this here's lively, mas' don," said jem, as he stood beside his companion in misfortune. "i want to speak to the principal officer," said don, excitedly. "we must not let them drive us off as if we were sheep." "will you take a bit of good advice, my lad?" said a familiar voice at his ear. "if it is good advice," said don, sharply. "then hold your tongue, and go quietly. i'll speak to the lieutenant when we get aboard." don glanced sharply at the bluff-looking boatswain who had spoken, and he seemed to mean well; but in don's excitement he could not be sure, and one moment he felt disposed to make a bold dash for liberty, as soon as the gates were opened, and then to shout for help; the next to appeal to his fellow-prisoners to make a bold fight for liberty; and while these thoughts were running one over another in his mind, a sharp order was given, the gates were thrown open, and they were all marched down a narrow lane, dimly lit by one miserable oil lamp at the end. almost as they reached the end the familiar odour, damp and seaweedy, of the tide reached don's nostrils; and directly after he found himself being hurried down a flight of wet and slippery stone steps to where a lanthorn showed a large boat, into which he was hurried along with the rest. then there was the sensation of movement, as the boat rose and fell. fresh orders. the splash of oars. a faint creaking sound where they rubbed on the tholes, and then the regular measured dip, dip, and splash, splash. "tide runs sharp," said a deep voice. "give way, my lads, or we shall be swept by her; that's it." don listened to all this as if it were part of a dream, while he gazed wildly about at the dimly-seen moving lights and the black, shadowy-looking shapes of the various vessels which kept on looming up, till after gradually nearing a light away to his left, the boat was suddenly run up close to a great black mass, which seemed to stand up out of the water that was lapping her sides. ten minutes later the boat in which he had come off was hanging to the davits, and he, in company with his fellows, was being hurried down into a long low portion of the 'tween decks, with a couple of lanthorns swinging their yellow light to and fro, and trying to make haloes, while an armed marine stood sentry at the foot of the steps leading up on deck. every one appeared too desolate and despondent to say much; in fact, as don sat upon the deck and looked at those who surrounded him, they all looked like so many wounded men in hospital, or prisoners of war, in place of being englishmen--whose duty henceforth was to be the defence of their country. "seems rum, don't it?" said jem in a whisper. "makes a man feel wild to be laid hold on like this." "it's cruel! it's outrageous!" cried don, angrily. "but here we are, and--what's that there noise?" said jem, as a good deal of shouting and trampling was heard on deck. then there was a series of thumps and more trampling and loud orders. "are they bringing some more poor wretches on board, jem?" "dunno. don't think so. say, mas' don, i often heared tell of the press-gang, and men being took; but i didn't know it was so bad as this." "wait till morning, jem, and i hope we shall get justice done to us." "then they'll have to do it sharp, for it's morning now, though it's so dark down here, and i thought we were moving; can't you feel?" jem was quite right; the sloop was under weigh. morning had broken some time; and at noon that day, the hope of being set at liberty was growing extremely small, for the ship was in full sail, and going due west. chapter eighteen. jem is hungry. the first time the pressed men were mustered don was well prepared. "you leave it to me, jem," he whispered. "i'll wait till our turn comes, and then i shall speak out to the officer and tell him how we've been treated." "you'd better make haste, then, mas' don, for if the thing keeps on moving like this, i sha'n't be able to stand and hear what you have to say." for a good breeze was blowing from the south coast, sufficient to make the waves curl over, and the sloop behave in rather a lively way; the more so that she had a good deal of canvas spread, and heeled over and dipped her nose sufficiently to admit a great wave from time to time to well splash the forward part of the deck. don made no reply, for he felt white, but he attributed it to the mental excitement from which he suffered. there were thirty pressed men on deck, for the most part old sailors from the mercantile marine, and these men were drafted off into various watches, the trouble to the officers being that of arranging the fate of the landsmen, who looked wretched in the extreme. "'pon my word, jones," said a smart-looking, middle-aged man in uniform, whom don took to be the first lieutenant, "about as sorry a lot of bristol sweepings as ever i saw." "not bad men, sir," said the petty officer addressed. "wait till they've shaken down into their places." "now's your time, mas' don," whispered jem. "now or never." don was on the alert, but just as the officer neared them the vessel gave a sudden pitch, and of the men standing in a row the minute before, not one remained upon his feet. for it seemed as if the deck had suddenly dropped down; and as don and jem rolled over into the lee scuppers, they were pretty well doused by the water that came splashing over the bows, and when, amidst a shout of laughter from the sailors, the order was given for them to get up and form in line again, jem clung tightly to don, and said, dolefully,-- "it's of no use, mas' don; i can't. it's like trying to stand on running barrels; and--oh, dear me!--i do feel so precious bad." don made no reply, but caught at the side of the vessel, for everything around seemed to be swimming, and a peculiarly faint sensation had attacked him, such as he had never experienced before. "there, send 'em all below," said the officer, who seemed half angry, half-amused. "pretty way this is, of manning his majesty's ships. there, down with you. get 'em all below." don did not know how he got below. he had some recollection of knocking the skin off his elbows, and being half dragged into a corner of the lower deck, where, for three days, he lay in the most abjectly miserable state, listening to the sighs and groans of his equally unfortunate companions, and the remarks of jem, who kept up in his waking moments a running commentary on the miseries of going to sea. "it's wuss than anything i ever felt or saw," he muttered. "i've been ill, and i've been in hospital, but this here's about the most terrible. i say, mas' don, how do you feel now?" "as if i'd give anything to have the ship stopped, for us to be set ashore." "no, no, you can't feel like that, mas' don, because that's exactly how i feel. i am so ill. well, all i can say is that it serves the captain and the lieutenant and all the rest of 'em jolly well right for press-ganging me." "what do you mean?" said don, dolefully. "why, that they took all that trouble to bring me aboard to make a sailor of me, and they'll never do it. i'm fit to go into a hospital, and that's about all i'm fit for. sailor? why, i can't even stand upright on the precious deck." "well, my lads," said a hearty voice just then; "how long are you going to play at being old women? come, rouse a bit." "no, thankye, sir," said jem, in a miserable tone. "bit? i haven't bit anything since i've been aboard." "then rouse up, and bite something now," cried the boatswain. "come, my lad," he continued, turning to don, "you've got too much stuff in you to lie about like this. jump up, and come on deck in the fresh air." "i feel so weak, sir; i don't think i could stand." "oh, yes, you can," said the boatswain. "that's better. if you give way to it, you'll be here for a week." "are we nearly there, sir?" said jem, with a groan. "nearly there? you yellow-faced lubber. what do you mean?" "where we're going to," groaned jem. "nearly there? no. why?" "because i want to go ashore again. i'm no use here." "we'll soon make you of some use. there, get up." "but aren't we soon going ashore?" "if you behave yourself you may get a run ashore at the cape or at singapore; but most likely you won't leave the ship till we get to china." "china?" said jem, sitting up sharply. "china?" "yes, china. what of that?" "china!" cried jem. "why, i thought we were sailing round to plymouth or portsmouth, or some place like that. china?" "we're going straight away or china, my lad, to be on that station for some time." "and when are we coming back, sir?" "in about three years." "mas' don," said jem, dolefully; "let's get up on deck, sir, and jump overboard, so as to make an end of it." "you'd better not," said the boatswain, laughing at jem's miserable face. "you're in the king's service now, and you've got to work. there, rouse up, and act like a man." "but can't we send a letter home, sir?" asked don. "oh, yes, if you like, at the first port we touch at, or by any ship we speak. but come, my lad, you've been sea-sick for days; don't begin to be home sick. you've been pressed as many a better fellow has been before you. the king wants men, and he must have them. now, young as you are, show that you can act like a man." don gave him an agonised look, but the bluff boatswain did not see it. "here, you fellows," he cried to the rest of the sick men; "we've given you time enough now. you must get up and shake all this off. you'll all be on deck in a quarter of an hour, so look sharp." "this here's a nice game, mas' don. do you know how i feel?" "no, jem; but i know how i feel." "how's that, sir?" "that if i had been asked to serve the king i might have joined a ship; but i've been dragged here in a cruel way, and the very first time i can get ashore, i mean to stay." "well, i felt something like that, mas' don; but they'd call it desertion." "let them call it what they like, jem. they treated us like dogs, and i will not stand it. i shall leave the ship first chance. you can do as you like, but that's what i mean to do." "oh, i shall do as you do, mas' don. i was never meant for a sailor, and i shall get away as soon as i can." "shall you?" said a voice that seemed familiar; and they both turned in the direction from which it came, to see a dark figure rise from beside the bulk head, where it had lain unnoticed by the invalids, though if they had noted its presence, they would have taken it for one of their fellow-sufferers. "what's it got to do with you?" said jem, shortly, as he scowled at the man, who now came forward sufficiently near the dim light for them to recognise the grim, sinister-looking sailor, who had played so unpleasant a part at the _rendez-vous_ where they were taken after being seized. "what's it got to do with me? everything. so you're goin' to desert, both of you, are you? do you know what that means?" "no; nor don't want," growled jem. "then i'll tell you. flogging, for sartain, and p'r'aps stringing up at the yard-arm, as an example to others." "ho!" said jem; "do it? well, you look the sort o' man as is best suited for that; and just you look here. nex' time i ketches you spying and listening to what i say, i shall give you a worse dressing down than i give you last time, so be off." "mutinous, threatening, and talking about deserting," said the sinister-looking sailor, with a harsh laugh, which sounded as if he had a young watchman's rattle somewhere in his chest. "nice thing to report. i think this will do." he went off rubbing his hands softly, and mounted the ladder, jem watching him till his legs had disappeared, when he turned sharply to don. "him and me's going to have a regular set-to some day, mas' don. he makes me feel warm, and somehow that bit of a row has done me no end o' good. here, come on deck, and let's see if he's telling tales. come on, lad. p'r'aps i've got a word or two to say as well." don had not realised it before, but as he followed jem, he suddenly woke to the fact that he did not feel so weak and giddy, while, by the time he was on deck, it as suddenly occurred to him that he could eat some breakfast. "i thought as much," said jem. "lookye there, mas' don. did you ever see such a miserable sneak?" for there, not half-a-dozen yards away, was the sinister-looking sailor talking to the bluff boatswain. "oh, yes, of course," said the latter, as he caught sight of the recruits. "so does every man who is pressed, and if he does not say it, he thinks it. there, be off." the ill-looking sailor gave jem an ugly look and went aft, while the boatswain turned to don. "that's right," he said. "make a bit of an effort, and you're all the better for it. you'll get your sea legs directly." "i wish he'd tell us where to get a sea leg o' mutton, mas' don," whispered jem. "i _am_ hungry." "what's that?" said the boatswain. "only said i was hungry," growled jem. "better and better. and, now, look here, you two may as well set to work without grumbling. and take my advice; don't let such men as that hear either of you talk about desertion again. it doesn't matter this time, but, by-and-by, it may mean punishment." chapter nineteen. a conversation. the gale was left behind, and the weather proved glorious as they sped on towards the tropics, both going through all the drudgery to be learned by government men, in company with the naval drill. there was so much to see and learn that don found it impossible to be moody; and, for the most part, his homesickness and regrets were felt merely when he went to his hammock at nights; while the time spent unhappily there was very short, for fatigue soon sent him to sleep. the boatswain was always bluff, manly, and kind, and following out his advice, both jem and don picked up the routine of their life so rapidly as to gain many an encouraging word from their officers--words which, in spite of the hidden determination to escape at the first opportunity, set them striving harder and harder to master that which they had to do. "yes," jem used to say, "they may be civil, but soft words butters no parsnips, mas' don; and being told you'll some day be rated ab don't bring a man back to his wife, nor a boy--i mean another man--back to his mother." "you might have said boy, jem; i'm only a boy." "so'm i, mas' don--sailor boy. you seem getting your head pretty well now, mas' don, when we're up aloft." "that's what i was thinking of you, jem." "well, yes, sir, tidy--tidy like, and i s'pose it arn't much worse than coming down that there rope when we tried to get away; but i often feel when i'm lying out on the yard, with my feet in the stirrup, that there's a precious little bit between being up there and lying down on the deck, never to get up again." "you shouldn't think of it, jem. i try not to." "so do i, but you can't help it sometimes. how long have we been at sea now?" "six months, jem." "is it now? don't seem so long. i used to think i should get away before we'd been aboard a week, and it's six months, and we arn't gone. you do mean to go if you get a chance?" "yes, jem," said don, frowning. "i said i would, and i will." "arn't it being a bit obstinate like, mas' don?" "obstinate? what, to do what i said i'd do?" "well, p'r'aps not, sir; but it do sound obstinate all the same." "you like being a sailor then, jem?" "like it? being ordered about, and drilled, and sent aloft in rough weather, and all the time my sally thousands o' miles away? well, i do wonder at you, mas' don, talking like that." "it was your own fault, jem. i can't help feeling as i did. it was such a cruel, cowardly way of kidnapping us, and dragging us away, and never a letter yet to tell us what they think at home, after those i sent. no, jem, as i've said before, i'd have served the king as a volunteer, but i will not serve a day longer than i can help after being pressed." "t'others seem to have settled down." "so do we seem to, jem; but perhaps they're like us, and only waiting for a chance to go." "don't talk out loud, mas' don. i want to go home: but somehow i sha'n't quite like going when the time does come." "why not?" "well, some of the lads make very good messmates, and the officers arn't bad when they're in a good temper; and i've took to that there hammock, mas' don. you can't think of how i shall miss that there hammock." "you'll soon get over that, jem." "yes, sir, dessay i shall; and it will be a treat to sit down at a decent table with a white cloth on, and eat bread and butter like a christian." "instead of tough salt junk, jem, and bad, hard biscuits." "and what a waste o' time it do seem learning all this sailoring work, to be no use after all. holy-stoning might come in. i could holy-stone our floor at home, and save my sally the trouble, and--" jem gave a gulp, then sniffed very loudly. "wish you wouldn't talk about home." don smiled sadly, and they were separated directly after. the time went swiftly on in their busy life, and though his absence from home could only be counted in months, don had shot up and altered wonderfully. they had touched at the cape, at ceylon, and then made a short stay at singapore before going on to their station farther east, and cruising to and fro. during that period don's experience had been varied, but the opportunity he was always looking for did not seem to come. then a year had passed away, and they were back at singapore, where letters reached both, and made them go about the deck looking depressed for the rest of the week. then came one morning when there was no little excitement on board, the news having oozed out that the sloop was bound for new zealand, a place in those days little known, save as a wonderful country of tree-fern, pine, and volcano, where the natives were a fierce fighting race, and did not scruple to eat those whom they took captive in war. "noo zealand, eh?" said jem. "port jackson and botany bay, i hear, jem, and then on to new zealand. we shall see something of the world." "ay, so we shall, mas' don. bot'ny bay! that's where they sends the chaps they transports, arn't it?" "yes, i believe so." "then we shall be like transported ones when we get there. you're right, after all, mas' don. first chance there is, let me and you give up sailoring, and go ashore." "i mean to, jem; and somehow, come what may, we will." chapter twenty. a naturalised new zealander. three months had passed since the conversation in the last chapter, when after an adverse voyage from port jackson, his majesty's sloop-of-war under shortened sail made her way slowly towards what was in those days a land of mystery. a stiff breeze was blowing, and the watch were on deck, ready for reducing sail or any emergency. more were ready in the tops, and all on board watching the glorious scene unfolding before them. "i say, mas' don, look ye there," whispered jem, as they sat together in the foretop. "if this don't beat bristol, i'm a dutchman." "beat bristol!" said don contemptuously; "why, it's as different as can be." "well, i dunno so much about that," said jem. "there's that mountain yonder smoking puts one in mind of a factory chimney. and look yonder too!--there's another one smoking ever so far off. i say, are those burning mountains?" "i suppose so, unless it's steam. but what a lovely place!" there were orders for shortening sail given just then, and they had no more opportunity for talking during the next quarter of an hour, when, much closer in, they lay in the top once more, gazing eagerly at the glorious prospect of sea and sky, and verdant land and mountain. the vessel slowly rounded what appeared to be a headland, and in a short time the wind seemed to have dropped, and the sea to have grown calm. it was like entering a lovely lake; and as they went slowly on and on, it was to find that they were forging ahead in a perfect archipelago, with fresh beauties opening up each minute. the land was deliciously green, and cut up into valley, hill, and mountain. one island they were passing sent forth into the clear sunny air a cloud of silvery steam, which floated slowly away, like a white ensign spread to welcome the newcomers from a civilised land. at their distance from the shore it was impossible to make out the individual trees, but there seemed to be clumps of noble pines some distance in, and the valleys were made ornamental with some kind of feathery growth. "well, all i've got to say, mas' don, is this here--singpore arn't to be grumbled at, and china's all very well, only hot; but if you and me's going to say good-bye to sailoring, let's do it here." "that's exactly what i was thinking, jem," replied don. "say, mas' don, p'r'aps it arn't for me, being a servant and you a young master, to make remarks." "don't talk nonsense, jem; we are both common sailors." "well then, sir, as one sailor to another sailor, i says i wish you wouldn't get into bad habits." "i wish so too, jem." "there you are again!" said jem testily. "what do you mean?" "why, so sure as i thinks something sensible and good, you always ketches me up and says you had thought it before." "nonsense, jem! well, have it your way. i quite agree with you." "no, i won't, sir; you're master. have it your way. i quite agree with you. let's go ashore here." "if you can get the chance, jem.--how lovely it looks!" "lovely's nothing to it, sir. mike used to brag about what he'd seen in foreign countries, but he never see anything to come up to this." "i don't think any one could see a more beautiful place, jem." "but i don't like the look o' that, sir." "of what?" "that there yonder. that smoke." "what, on that little island? no, jem; it's steam." "well, don't you know what that means?" "no." "then i've got something at last as you arn't got first!" cried jem excitedly, as he sheltered his eyes from the glare of the sun. "yes; that's it's, sure. cooking!" "cooking? what's cooking?" "that place where the steam is, mas' don. i say, you know what they do here? that's the place where they do it." "do what?" "cook people. that's the spot, safe." "nonsense!" said don laughing. "ah! you may call it nonsense, mas' don; but if them sort o' things is done here, i think we'd better stop on board." just at that moment the captain, who was busy with his spyglass examining the place and looking for a snug anchorage, suddenly gave an order, which was passed on, and with the rapidity customary on board a man-of-war, the stout boarding nettings, ready for use on an emergency, were triced up to the lower rigging, so that before long the vessel, from its bulwarks high up toward the lower yards, presented the appearance of a cage. while this was going on, others of the men stood to their arms, guns were cast loose and loaded, and every precaution taken against a surprise. the reason for all this was that quite a fleet of long canoes, propelled by paddles, suddenly began to glide out from behind one of the islands, each canoe seeming to contain from eighty to a hundred men. the effect was beautiful, for the long, dark vessels, with their grotesque, quaintly carved prows and sterns, seemed to be like some strange living creatures working along paths of silver, so regularly went the paddles, turning the sea into lines of dazzling light. the men were armed with spears and tomahawks, and as they came nearer, some could be seen wearing black feathers tipped with white stuck in their hair, while their dark, nearly naked bodies glistened in the sun like bronze. "are they coming to attack us, jem?" said don, who began to feel a strange thrill of excitement. "dessay they'd like to, mas' don; but it strikes me they'd think twice about it. why, we could sail right over those long thin boats of theirs, and send 'em all to the bottom." just then there was an order from the deck, and more sail was taken in, till the ship hardly moved, as the canoes came dashing up, the men of the foremost singing a mournful kind of chorus as they paddled on. "ship ahoy!" suddenly came from the first canoe. "what ship's that?" "his majesty's sloop-of-war _golden danae_," shouted back the first lieutenant from the chains. "tell your other boats to keep back, or we shall fire." "no, no, no: don't do that, sir! they don't mean fighting," came back from the boat; and a big savage, whose face was blue with tattooing, stood up in the canoe, and then turned and spoke to one of his companions, who rose and shouted to the occupants of the other canoes to cease paddling. "speaks good english, sir," said the lieutenant to the captain. "yes. ask them what they want, and if it's peace." the lieutenant shouted this communication to the savage in the canoe. "want, sir?" came back; "to trade with you for guns and powder, and to come aboard." "how is it you speak good english?" "why, what should an englishman speak?" "then you are not a savage?" "now do i look like one?" cried the man indignantly. "of course; i forgot--i'm an englishman on a visit to the country, and i've adopted their customs, sir--that's all." "oh, i see," said the lieutenant, laughing; "ornaments and all." "may they come aboard, sir?" "oh, yes; if they leave their arms." the man communicated this to the occupants of the boat, and there was a good deal of excited conversation for a time. "that fellow's a runaway convict for certain, sir," said the lieutenant. "shall we get him aboard, and keep him?" "no. let him be. perhaps he will prove very useful." "the chiefs say it isn't fair to ask them to come without their arms," said the tattooed englishman. "how are they to know that you will not be treacherous?" "tell them this is a king's ship, and if they behave themselves they have nothing to fear," said the captain. "stop! six of them can come aboard armed if they like. you can lead them and interpret." "i'll tell them, sir; but i won't come aboard, thank you. i'm a bit of a savage now, and the crew might make remarks, and we should quarrel." he turned to the savages, and the captain and lieutenant exchanged glances, while directly after the canoe was run alongside, and half-a-dozen of the people sprang up the side, and were admitted through the boarding netting to begin striding about the deck in the most fearless way. they were fine, herculean-looking fellows, broad-shouldered and handsome, and every man had his face tattooed in a curious scroll-like pattern, which ended on the sides of his nose. their arms were spears and tomahawks, and two carried by a stout thong to the wrist a curiously carved object, which looked like a model of a paddle in pale green stone, carefully polished, but which on closer inspection seemed to be a weapon for using at close quarters. as they paraded the deck, with their quick eyes grasping everything, they made no scruple about placing their faces close to those of the sailors, and then drawing themselves up with a conscious look of satisfaction and self-esteem, as they compared their physique with that of their visitors. one of them, a great fellow of about six feet three, and stout and muscular in proportion, stopped suddenly in front of jem, at whom he seemed to frown, and turned to don, upon whose chest he laid the back of his hand. "pakeha," he said in a deep voice; "ngati pakeha." "tell him he's another, mas' don," said jem. the savage turned fiercely upon jem, gripping don's arm the while. "pakeha," he said; "ngati pakeha. maori pakeha. my pakeha!" then to don--"you my pakeha. give me powder--gun." "don't you wish you may get it, old chap?" said jem. "wants you to give him powder and gun." the savage nodded approval. "yes," he said; "powder-gun--you give." a call from one of his companions summoned the savage away, and he joined them to partake of some rum and water, which the captain had had prepared on their behalf. "won't you come up and have some rum?" said the lieutenant to the tattooed englishman in the boat. "no, thank you; but you may send me down the bottle if you like, sir. look here! shall i show you where you can anchor?" the lieutenant glanced at his superior officer, and in answer to his nod turned to the man again. "can you show us a safe anchorage?" "i can show you half-a-dozen, all safe," said the man. "when you like, i'll lead the way." "a boat shall follow you, and take soundings." the first cutter was manned with a well-armed crew, and the lieutenant stepped in--don and jem being two of the number. the tattooed englishman shouted something to the men busy on the ship, and they unwillingly left the deck, slipped down into their canoe, and this led off, followed by the first cutter. "give way, my lads!" said the lieutenant; "and mind this: there must be no straying off in any shape whatever--that is, if we land. these fellows seem friendly, but we are only a few among hundreds, and i suppose you know what your fate would be if they got the upper hand." "make tattooed chiefs of us seemingly, sir," said jem. "or hot joints," said the officer laconically. "ready there with that lead." the men rowed steadily on after the first canoe, and the man with the lead kept on making casts, but getting no bottom except at an excessive depth, as they went on, the scene growing more beautiful as each point was passed. the other canoes followed, and a curious thrill ran through don, as he felt how helpless they would be if the savages proved treacherous, for the boat and her crew could have been overpowered at once; and the lieutenant was evidently uneasy, as he saw that they were taken right round to the back of a small island, gradually losing sight of the ship. but he had his duty to do, and keeping a strict watch, after passing the word to his men to have their arms ready, he made them row on, with the lead going all the time. it was a curious experience, and don's heart beat as he thought of the possibility of escaping from the boat, and taking to the shore, wondering the while what would be the consequences. the man in the leading canoe was evidently well treated, and quite one in authority; and if they landed and joined these people, why should not he and jem become so too? these were a few of the passing thoughts suggested by the novelty and beauty of the place, which seemed ten times more attractive to those who had been for months cooped up on shipboard; but the toil in which he was engaged kept don from taking more than a casual glance ashore. bosun jones sat at the tiller side by side with the lieutenant, and scraps of their conversation reached don's ears. "well, sir," said the former, "as you say, we're out of the reach of the sloop's guns; but if anything happens to us, we may be sure that the captain will take pretty good revenge." "and a deal of good that will do us, jones," said the lieutenant. "i believe that scoundrel is leading us into a trap." "if he is, sir, i hope for one chance at him," said the boatswain; "i don't think i should miss my man." the leading canoe went on for quite a quarter of a mile after they had passed out of sight of the ship, the cutter following and taking soundings all the way, till they seemed to be quite shut in by high land, and the water was as smooth as a lake. there, about five hundred yards from the shore, the canoe stopped, and almost at the same moment the water shallowed, so that the man in the bows got soundings in ten fathoms; directly after, nine; then eight; and eight again, at which depth the water seemed to remain. "come, that's honest leading!" said the lieutenant, brightening; "as snug a berth as a ship could be in. why, jones, what a position for a port!" "this do, sir?" shouted the tattooed englishman. "you'll be quite in shelter here, and the water keeps the same right up to the shore." a few more soundings were taken, and then the boat returned to the ship, which made her way in and anchored before night, with the canoes hanging about, and some of the chiefs eagerly besieging the gangway to be allowed on deck. but special precautions were taken; sentries were doubled; and, as if feeling that the fate of all on board depended upon his stringent regulations, the captain only allowed about half-a-dozen of the savage-looking people to come on board at a time. by a little management don had contrived that jem should have the hammock next to his; and that night, with the soft air playing in through the open port-hole, they listened to the faint sounds on shore, where the savages were evidently feasting, and discussed in a whisper the possibility of getting away. chapter twenty one. an invitation. it seemed to don that the object of the captain in coming to new zealand was to select and survey portions of the coast for a new settlement; and for the next few days well-armed boat parties were out in all directions sounding, and in two cases making short journeys inland. "i say," said jem one morning, as he and don stood gazing over the side of the ship at the verdant shores. "well, jem, what do you say?" "has that ugly-looking chap ramsden been telling tales about us?" "i don't know; why?" "because here's a fortnight we've been at anchor, and since the first day neither of us has been out in a boat." "hasn't been our turn, jem." "well, p'r'aps not, sir; but it do seem strange. just as if they thought we should slip away." "and i suppose we've given up all such thoughts as that now." "oh, have we?" said jem sarcastically; and then there was silence for a time, till jem, who had been watching the steam rise from the little island about a quarter of a mile away, exclaimed, "wonder what's being cooked over yonder, mas' don. i know; no, i don't. thought it was washing day, but it can't be, for they don't hardly wear any clothes." "it's volcanic steam, jem. comes out of the earth." "get along with you, mas' don. don't get spinning yarns." "i'm telling you the truth, jem." "are you, sir? well, p'r'aps it's what you think is the truth, i say, arn't it lovely out here? how i should like to have a cottage just on that there point, and my sally to keep it tidy. hullo! what's up?" the boatswain's shrill pipe was heard just then, and a boat's crew was summoned to take an exploring party ashore. to don's great delight, he and jem formed part of the boat's crew; and at last he felt that he was to see something of the beautiful place, which grew more attractive every time he scanned the coast. this time the captain was going to land; and, as the men were provided with axes, it seemed that they were about to make their way into the woods. the natives had been most friendly, bringing off and receiving presents; but, all the same, no precautions were omitted to provide for the safety of the ship and crew. it was a glorious morning, with hardly a breath of wind stirring, and the savages were lolling about on the shore. their canoes were run up on the sands, and there was an aspect of calm and repose everywhere that seemed delightful. but the boat's crew had little time given them for thinking. the captain and a midshipman of about don's age took their places in the stern sheets, bosun jones seized the tiller, the word was given, the oars splashed the water simultaneously, and the boat sped over the calm surface of the transparent sea, sending the shoals of fish darting away. the boat's head was set in quite a fresh direction, and she was run ashore a little way from the mouth of a rushing river, whose waters came foaming down through blocks of pumice and black masses of volcanic stone. as the boat's head touched the shore, the men leaped over right and left, and dragged her a short distance up the black glistening heavy sand, so that the captain could land dry-shod. then preparations were made, arms charged, and bosun jones gave don a friendly nod before turning to the captain. "will you have this lad, sir, to carry a spare gun for you?" "yes," said the captain; "a good plan;" and don's eyes sparkled. "no," said the captain the next moment; "he is only a boy, and the walking will be too hard for him. let him and another stay with the boat." don's brow clouded over with disappointment, but it cleared a little directly after as he found that jem was to be his companion; and as the party marched off toward where the forest came down nearly to the sea, they, in obedience to their orders, thrust the boat off again, climbed in, and cast out her grapnel a few fathoms from the shore. "i am disappointed," said don, after they had sat in the boat some time, watching their companions till they had disappeared. "oh, i dunno, mas' don; we've got some beef and biscuit, and somewhere to sit down, and nothing to do. they, poor fellows, will come back hot and tired out." "yes; but's it's so dull here." "well, i dunno 'bout that," said jem, looking lazily round at the glorious prospect of glistening sea, island and shore, backed up by mountains; "i call it just lovely." "oh, it's lovely enough, jem; but i want to go ashore." "now if you call my cottage dull inside the yard gates at bristol, i'm with you, mas' don; but after all there's no place like home." there was a dead silence, during which don sat gazing at a group of the savages half-a-mile away, as they landed from a long canoe, and ran it up the beach in front of one of the native _whares_ or dwellings. "why, jem!" don exclaimed suddenly, "why not now?" "eh?" said jem, starting from watching a large bird dive down with a splash in the silvery water, and then rise again with a fish in its beak; "see that, mas' don?" "yes, yes," exclaimed don impatiently; "why not now?" "why not now, mas' don?" said jem, scratching his head; "is that what you call a connundydrum?" "don't be stupid, man. i say, why not now?" "yes, i heared you say so twice; but what does it mean?" "we're quite alone; we have a boat and arms, with food and water. why not escape now?" "escape, mas' don? what, run away now at once--desert?" "it is not running away, jem; it is not deserting. they have robbed us of our liberty, and we should only be taking it back." "ah, they'd preach quite a different sarmon to that," said jem, shaking his head. "why, you are never going to turn tail?" "not i, mas' don, when the time comes; but it don't seem to have come yet." "why, the opportunity is splendid, man." "no, mas' don, i don't think so. if we take the boat, 'fore we've gone far they'll ketch sight of us aboard, and send another one to fetch us back, or else make a cock-shy of us with the long gun." "then let's leave the boat." "and go ashore, and meet our messmates and the captain." "go in another direction." "out of the frying-pan into the fire," said jem, grinning. "say, mas' don, how do they cook their food?" "don't talk nonsense, jem; that's only a traveller's tale. i believe the people here will behave kindly to us." "till we got fat," said jem, chuckling; "and then they'd have a tuck out. no, thank ye, mas' don; my sally wouldn't like it. you see, i'm nice and plump and round now, and they'd soon use me. you're a great long growing boy, thin as a lath, and it'd take years to make you fit to kill, so as it don't matter for you." "there is a chance open to us now for escape," said don bitterly; "to get right away, and journey to some port, where we could get a passage to england as sailors, and you treat it with ridicule." "not i, mas' don, lad." "you do, jem. such a chance may never occur again; and i shall never be happy till i have told my mother what is the real truth about our going away." "but you did write it to her, mas' don." "write! what is writing to speaking? i thought you meant to stand by me." "so i do, mas' don, when a good chance comes. it hasn't come yet." "ahoy!" a hail came out of the dense growth some fifty yards away. "there," said jem, "you see we couldn't get off; some one coming back." "ahoy!" came again; "boat ahoy!" "ahoy! ahoy!" shouted back jem, and the two boat-keepers watched the moving ferns in front of them, expecting to see the straw hat of a messmate directly; but instead there appeared the black white-tipped feathers, and then the hideously tattooed bluish face of a savage, followed directly after by another, and two stalwart men came out on to the sands, and began to walk slowly down toward the boat. "cock your pistol, mas' don," whispered jem, "quiet-like; don't let 'em see. they've got their spears and choppers. precious ready too with their _ahoys_." "why, it's that tattooed englishman, jem, and that savage who called me his pakeha." "and like his impudence!" said jem. "you're right though, so it is." "morning, mate," said the englishman, who, save that he was a little lighter in colour than his hideous-looking companion, could hardly be distinguished from him. "morning, my hearty," said jem. "what is it? want a passage home?" "do i want what?" growled the man. "not i; too well off here." "wouldn't be safe to go back, p'r'aps," said jem meaningly. the man darted a fierce look at him, which told that the shaft had hit its mark. "never you mind about that," he said surlily. "but you are a lifer, and have run away, haven't you?" continued jem, in a bantering tone. the man's aspect was for the moment so fierce that don involuntarily stole his hand towards the pistol at his side. but his countenance softened directly after. "that's neither here nor there, mate," said the man. "there's been chaps sent out abroad who were innocent, and others who have been punished more than they deserved; and you aren't the sort of fellow to go talking like that, and making trouble for a fellow who never did you any harm." "not i," said jem; "it's no business of mine." "and he isn't the fellow to make trouble," put in don. "that he isn't," said the man, smiling. "'sides i'm a maori chief now, and i've got a couple of hundred stout fellows who would fight for me. eh, ngati?" he said, addressing some words in the savage tongue. "pah, ha, ha!" roared the great fellow beside him, brandishing his spear; and seizing the greenstone paddle-like weapon, which hung from his neck, in his left hand, as he struck an attitude, turned up his eyes till the whites only were visible, distorted his face hideously, and thrust out his great tongue till it was far below his chin. "brayvo! brayvo! brayvo!" cried jem, hammering the side of the boat; "brayvo, waxworks! i say, mate, will he always go off like that when you pull the string?" "yes," said the englishman, laughing; "and two hundred more like him." "then it must be a werry pretty sight indeed; eh, mas' don?" "ah, it's all very well to laugh," said the englishman good-humouredly; "but when they mean mischief, it's heads off and a feast." "eh?" cried jem. "they'll kill a man, and cook him and eat him after." "gammon!" "gammon, eh?" cried the englishman; and he turned to his savage companion with a word or two. the savage relapsed into his former quiescent state, uttered a loud grunt, and smacked his lips. "and so you do do that sort of thing?" said jem, grinning. "you look in pretty good condition, mate." "no!" said the englishman fiercely. "i've joined them, and married, and i'm a pakeha maori and a great chief, and i've often fought for them; but i've never forgotten what i am." "no offence meant, old chap," said jem; and then from behind his hand he whispered to don,-- "look out, my lad; they mean the boat." "no, we don't," said the englishman, contemptuously; "if we did we could have it. why, i've only to give the word, and a hundred fellows would be out in a canoe before you knew where you were. no, my lad, it's peace; and i'm glad of a chance, though i'm happy enough here, to have a talk to some one from the old home. never was in the west country, i suppose? i'm an exeter man." "i've been in exeter often," said don eagerly; "we're from bristol." the englishman waded rapidly into the sea, his maori companion dashing in on the other side of the boat, and jem and don seized their pistols. "didn't i tell you it was peace?" said the englishman, angrily. "i only wanted to shake hands." "ho!" said jem, suspiciously, as their visitor coolly seated himself on the gunwale of the boat, his follower taking the opposite side, so as to preserve the balance. "enough to make you think we meant wrong," said the englishman; "but we don't. got any tobacco, mate?" "yes," said jem, producing his bag. "'tarn't very good. say, mas' don, if he came to see us in bristol, we could give him a bit o' real old charlestown, spun or leaf." "could you, though?" said the man, filling his pipe. "yes; my uncle is a large sugar and tobacco merchant," said don. "then how came you to be a sailor boy? i know, you young dog; you ran away. well, i did once." "no, no," said don, hastily; "we did not ran away; we were pressed." "pressed?" said the englishman, pausing in the act of striking a light on one of the thwarts of the boat. "you needn't believe unless you like," said jem, sourly, "but we were; dragged off just as if we were--well, never mind what. feel here." he bent forward, took the man's hand, and placed it upon the back of his head. "that's a pretty good scar, isn't it? reg'lar ridge." "yes; that was an ugly crack, mate." "well, that's what i got, and a lot beside. young mas' don here, too, was awfully knocked about." "and you stood it?" "stood it?" said don, laughing. "how could we help it?" "made you be sailors, eh, whether you would or no?" "that's it," said jem. "well, you can do as you like," said the man; "but i know what i should do if they'd served me so." "cutoff?" said jem. "that's it, mate. i wouldn't ha' minded being a sailor, but not be made one whether i liked or no." "you weren't a sailor, were you?" said don. "i? no; never mind what i was." "then we had better cut off, mas' don," said jem, grinning till his eyes were shut; "and you and me 'll be painted like he is in fast colours, and you shall be a chief, and i'll be your head man." "to be sure," said the englishman; "and you shall have a wife." "eh?" cried jem fiercely; "that i just won't. and, mas' don, if we ever do get back, don't you never say a word to my sally about this here." "no, jem, not i." "but you'll leave the ship, mate?" "well, i dunno," said jem, thoughtfully. "will that there pattern all over your face and chest wash off?" "wash off? no." "not with pearl-ash or soda?" "no, not unless you skinned me," said the man, laughing. "well, that part arn't tempting, is it, mas' don?" don shook his head. "and then about that other part, old chap--cannibalism? i say, that's gammon, isn't it?" "what do you mean?" "why, you know--the cooking a fellow and eating him. how dull you are!" "dull? you be here a few years among these people, talking their lingo, and not seeing an englishman above once in two years, and see if you wouldn't be dull." "but is that true?" "about being cannibals? yes it's true enough," said the man seriously; "and very horrid it is; but it's only when there's war." he had succeeded in striking a light now, and was smoking placidly enough on the boat's edge, but dreamily thoughtful, as if he were recalling matters that were past. "has he ever--been at war?" said don, altering the fashion of his inquiry when it was half uttered. "often." "and--? you know," said jem, who felt no delicacy about the matter. the englishman nodded his head slowly, and sent forth a tremendous puff of smoke, while his companion moved toward don, and smiled at him, tapping him on the shoulder with his hand, and seeming to nod approval. "pakeha!" he said, excitedly; "my pakeha; maori pakeha." "what does he mean by that?" said don, after he had suffered these attentions patiently for a few minutes. "means he wants you to be his pakeha." "yes: my pakeha; maori pakeha!" cried the chief eagerly. "but what is a pakeha?" "why, you're a pakeha, i'm a pakeha. they call foreigners pakehas; and he wants to claim you as his." "what, his slave?" cried don. "no, no; he means his foreign brother. if you become his pakeha, he will be bound to fight for you. eh, ngati?" the savage gave vent to a fierce shout, and went through his former performance, but with more flourish, as if he were slaying numbers of enemies, and his facial distortion was hideous. "well, when i was a little un, and went to school," said jem, "i used to get spanks if i put out my tongue. seems as if it's a fine thing to do out here." "yes; it's a way they have when they're going to fight," said the englishman thoughtfully. "s'pose it would mean trouble if i were to set you on to do it; but it wouldn't be at all bad for me if you were both of you to leave the ship and come ashore." "to be cooked?" said jem. "bah! stuff! they'd treat you well. youngster here's all right; ngati would make him his pakeha." "my pakeha," cried the chief, patting don again. "much powder; much gun." "pupil of mine," said the englishman, smiling; "i taught him our lingo." "what does he mean?" said don; "that he'd give me a big gun and plenty of powder?" the englishman laughed. "no, no; he wants you to bring plenty of guns and powder ashore with you when you come." "when i come!" said don, thoughtfully. "i sha'n't persuade you, my lad; but you might do worse. you'd be all right with us; and there are englishmen here and there beginning to settle." "and how often is there a post goes out for england?" "post? for england? letters?" "yes." "i don't know; i've been here a long time now, and i never had a letter and i never sent one away." "then how should i be able to send to my sally." "dunno," said the man. "there, you think it over. ngati here will be ready to take care of you, youngster; and matey here shall soon have a chief to take care of him." "i don't know so much about that," said jem. "i should be ready enough to come ashore, but you've got some precious unpleasant ways out here as wouldn't suit me." "you'd soon get used to them," said the englishman, drily; "and after leading a rough life, and being bullied by everybody, it isn't half bad to be a chief, and have a big canoe of your own, and make people do as you like." "but then you're a great powerful man," said don. "they'd obey you, but they wouldn't obey me." "oh, yes, they would, if you went the right way to work. it isn't only being big. they're big, much bigger all round than englishmen, and stronger and more active. they're not afraid of your body, but of your mind; that's what they can't understand. if i was to write down something on a bit of wood or a leaf--we don't often see paper here--and give it to you to read, and you did the same to me, that gets over them: it's a wonder they can't understand. and lots of other things we know are puzzles to them, and so they think us big. you consider it over a bit, my lad; and if you decide to run for it, i'll see as you don't come to no harm." "and him too?" "oh, yes; he shall be all right too; i'll see to that." "shouldn't be too tempting for 'em, eh? should i?" said jem. "not for our tribes here," said the englishman, laughing; "but i may as well be plain with you. if we went to war with some of the others, and they got hold of you--" "say, mas' don," said jem interrupting the speaker, "i don't like being a sort of white nigger aboard ship, and being kept a prisoner, and told it's to serve the king; but a man can go into the galley to speak to the cook without feeling that he's wondering which jynte of you he shall use first. no thankye; it's a werry lovely country, but i want to get home to my sally some day; and if we cut and run here, i'm afraid i never should." "you turn it over in your own minds, both of you, my lads. there, my pipe's out, and i think we'll go. stop here long?" "do you mean the ship, or here with the boat?" "here with the boat," said the englishman, holding out his hand. "till our party comes back," said jem. "i may see you again," said the englishman; and shaking hands, he said a few words to his companion, and then began to wade ashore. the savage smiled and shook hands in turn, after which he patted don on the shoulder again. "my pakeha," he said, sharply; "maori pakeha--my." he followed his leader; and don and jem watched them till they disappeared amongst the abundant growth. chapter twenty two. don's decision. "it's tempting, jem," said don. "yes, mas' don; and it's untempting, too. i had a book once about manners and customs of foreign parts, but it didn't say things so plain as you've found 'em here." "yes, i'm afraid it won't do, jem. even if we got away from the ship, it might be to a life that would be worse." "that's it, sir, as i said afore, `out of the frying-pan into the fire.' wonder how long they'll be 'fore they come back." "not till sundown. i say, shall we try it or sha'n't we?" jem scratched his head, and seemed to be hesitating. "i don't know what to say, jem. if they treated us well on board, i should be disposed to say let's put up with our life till we get back home." "but then they don't treat us well, mas' don. i don't grumble to you, but it's a reg'lar dog's life i lead; bully and cuss and swear at you, and then not even well fed." "but we are to be paid for it, jem," said don, bitterly. "paid, mas' don!" replied jem, contemptuously. "what paying will make up for what we go through?" "and i suppose we should have prize-money if we fought and took a french ship." "but then we're sent right out here, mas' don, where there's no french ships to fight; and if there were, the prize-money is shared among them as aren't killed." "of course." "well, how do we know as we shouldn't be killed? no, mas' don, they don't behave well to us, and i want to get home again, and so do you." "yes, jem." "p'r'aps it's cowardly, and they'll call it desertion." "yes, jem." "but we sha'n't be there to hear 'em call it so." "no, jem." "therefore it don't matter, mas' don; i've thought this all over hundreds o' times when you've been asleep." "and i've thought it over, jem, hundreds of times when you've been asleep." "there you go again, sir, taking the ideas out of a man's brain. you shouldn't, mas' don. i always play fair with you." "yes, of course you do." "well, then, you ought to play fair with me. now look here, mas' don," continued jem, seating himself on the gunwale of the boat, so as to let his bare feet hang in the water. "'ware sharks, jem," said don quickly. jem was balanced on the edge, and at those words he threw himself backward with his heels in the air, and after he had struggled up with some difficulty, he stood rubbing his head. "where 'bouts--where 'bouts, sir?" "i did not see a shark, jem, but the place swarms with them, and i thought it was a risk." "well, i do call that a trick," grumbled jem. "hit my nut such a whack, i did, and just in the worst place." "better than having a leg torn off, jem. well, what were you going to say?" "bottom of the boat's nearly knocked it all out of my head," said jem, rubbing the tender spot. "what i meant to say was that i was stolen." "well, i suppose we may call it so." "stolen from my wife, as i belongs to." "yes, jem." "and you belongs to your mother and your uncle josiah, so you was stolen, too." "yes, jem, if you put it in that way, i suppose we were." "well, then," said jem triumphantly, "they may call it cowardly, or desertion, or what they like; but what i say is this, a man can't be doing wrong in taking stolen goods back to them as they belong to." "no, jem, i s'pose not." "very well then, mas' don; the question is this--will you or won't you?" "i will, jem." "first chance?" "yes, i am decided." "that's a bargain then, my lad. so shake hands on it. why! how rough and hard and tarry your hands have grown!" "look out, jem!" don caught hold of the grapnel rope ready to haul up and get away from the shore, but jem seized his hand. "it's all right, mas' don. only them two running back with a basket, and i'm in that sort o' way of thinking that they've only got to coax me a bit, and swear as there shall be no tattooing and meat-pie nonsense, and i'd go ashore with them now." "no, jem, that would not do till we know a little more of them, and i can't help hesitating now it comes to the point." "that's just what i felt, mas' don," said jem, with a perplexed look on his face. "come, jem, who's stealing some one else's ideas now?" "like fruit?" said the tattooed englishman, coming down to the water's edge. "that depends," said jem, dubiously. "what is it?" "karaka," said their new friend, offering a basket of an olive-like fruit. "good to eat?" "yes; try it." "s'pose you eat some first," said jem suspiciously. the englishman laughed, and took some of the fruit, and began to chew it. "afraid these would drug you so that i could steal the boat?" "i didn't know," said jem sulkily. "wouldn't be the first who has stolen a boat, i suppose." don took some of the berries, and began to eat, and this emboldened jem, who tasted one in a very suspicious and doubting way. "hullo!" he said, with his countenance brightening; "know what these here taste like, mas' don?" "very mellow apple?" "no; like the medlars that grew in my grandmother's garden." "that's right!" said the englishman; and his new zealand companion began to select the best and ripest of the fruit from the basket and handed them to don, watching him eat with what was meant for a pleasant smile; but as his face resembled one that had been carved in a piece of mahogany, and afterwards ornamented with streaks and scrolls, the effect was more repellent than attractive. "my pakeha," said the great fellow with a childlike show of satisfaction; and he looked from one to the other and laughed. "here, he's took to you regular, youngster; only look out, for he'll want _utu_ for it some time. eh, ngati? utu?" "_utu_, _utu_" said the chief, smiling. "what's utu?" said jem, in a surly tone. "payment." "oh, then we'll give him a bit of 'bacco." he offered the new zealander his tobacco-bag, which was quietly annexed with a smile. "there, we'll leave you the fruit. they're good eating, my lads, and if at any time before you go, you feel disposed to settle down with us, there's plenty of room, and it won't be very long before you'll grow into chiefs." he nodded, and then said a few words to his companion, who smiled at the two strangers in turn, after which they went off together into the forest, and were gone. "ugh!" ejaculated jem. "don't know whether it arn't safer aboard ship after all." "why do you say that?" cried don. "because whenever that black chap looks at me, he gives me the shivers." "why?" "seems to me that he's too fond of you, mas' don, and as if he was thinking how good you'd be." "nonsense!" cried don, who was enjoying the fruit. "have some more of these. i wonder whether there are any more good kinds of fruit grow ashore." "sure to be." "do you think if we left the ship, jem, and found our way right along the coast to some place where we could live till the ship had gone, and then wait till another ship came, we could get enough to eat?" "dessay we could." "because if we did, we should be quite independent, and could do as we liked." "to be sure, that's the way it seems to me; but just now, mas' don, i can only think of one thing." "what's that, jem?" "how to get a bit of sleep, for the sun has made me as drowsy as a beedle." "well, then, sit down and sleep." jem wanted no persuasion, and in five minutes he was breathing very heavily, while don sat watching the beauties of nature, the clouds of steam floating above the volcanic island, the wondrous sheen of the sea in the sun, the great lace-like tree-ferns which drooped over the mossy growth at the forest edge, and the beautiful butterflies which floated about like gaily-painted flowers in the golden light. every now and then there was the sweet note of some bird ringing clearly in the air; then a loud and piercing screech heralded the coming of a parrot or cockatoo, which seemed tame enough to care little for the stranger who was watching its actions. then all would be still again--a dreamy, sleepy stillness that was wonderfully attractive to don as he sat with his eyes half-closed. in the distance he could see some of the maoris coming and going in a listless, careless way, as if their life was a very pleasant indolence without a care. it was very beautiful and wonderfully attractive. on board the ship there were hard work, hard living, peremptory orders, and what seemed to the proud boy a state of slavery, while on shore offered itself a life of ease where there would be no battling with storm, and risk of war or shipwreck. why should he not take advantage of this or some other opportunity, and steal ashore? it would be desertion, and setting aside the punishment held out to the one who forsook his ship after being forced into his majesty's navy, there was a feeling troubling don that it would be dishonourable to go. on the other side there was home, the strong desire to be free, and a love of adventure prompting him to escape. "no," he said decidedly at last; "it would be cowardly and base to desert. they treat me badly, but not hardly enough to make me run away. i'll stop and bear it like a man." somehow don felt lighter in heart after coming to this determination; and after looking round and wondering how long the explorers would be before they returned, and also wishing he could have been of the party, he leaned his elbows on the side of the boat and gazed down into the clear water, and through it at the beautiful lace-like pattern made by the sun, casting the netted shadow of the ripples on the soft pebbly sand. now and then a shoal of fish glided in and dashed away. then one brilliantly decked in gold and silver and blue came floating by, and don watched it eagerly, wishing the while that he had a line. he was leaning over the side in this way, gazing down at the water, now about four feet deep where the boat had swung, when he became aware of something pale and shadowy some little distance off. looking at it in a sloping direction made the ocean water seem so dense that he could not make out what it was for some little time. at first it seemed to be a dimly-seen patch of seaweed; then it appeared to be too regular and rounded, and it struck him that it must be a large transparent jelly-fish floating in with the tide, till he made out that it was continued backward from him, and that it was larger than he had imagined; and as he looked the object gradually grew plainer and more distinct. it was still shadowy and grey, and had a peculiar, strange attraction, which made him lean more over the side till a curious nightmare-like sensation came over him, and as he realised that the object was alive, and that he was looking down at two strange dull eyes, he felt that he could not shrink back, although the creeping chilly feeling which came over him seemed like a warning of danger. then it all appeared more like a dream, in which he was striving hard to get away, and all the time obliged to crouch there gazing at that creature whose eyes were fixed upon him, and which imperceptibly grew plainer to his sight. the intensity of the position grew more and more painful during what appeared to be a long time. he tried to call to jem, who was asleep not six feet away, but his mouth felt dry. he endeavoured to reach out and kick him, but he could not stir, and still the creature advanced till, all at once, there was a tremendous disturbance in the water; something seemed to rise and strike him a violent blow in the chest, and the next moment he was seated in the bottom of the boat, which was rocking violently, and staring stupidly at jem, who sat up staring back. "what yer do that for?" cried jem angrily. "i'd only just closed my eyes." "i did not do anything," faltered don, shivering. "yes, you did!" cried jem. "asked me to sit up and watch, and i'd ha' done it. needn't ha' played tricks." "i--i--" "there, don't say you didn't, mas' don. boat's rocking now, and you'd better swab up that water. nice row there'd be if the skipper come back and found the boat all wet." jem picked up the swab and began to remove the water himself, and in doing so he noticed don's face. "why, hullo, mas' don! what's the matter? you look as white as--why, what now?" jem was about to lean over the side and wring the swab, when don sprang astern and dragged him back. "look! look!" he cried, pointing. jem followed the direction of the pointing finger, and shrank away with a shudder. "what? a shark!" he exclaimed. "yes; it rose at me out of the water, and struck me in the chest, and i fell back, and so did he." "ugh!" ejaculated jem, as he seized the boathook, and rested it on the gunwale. "don't touch, it," whispered don; "it may spring out of the water at you." "it had better not," said jem. "hah!" he drove the boathook down with all his might, striking the great fish just as it was slowly rising toward the surface, close to the boat; and so well aimed was the stroke, that there was a tremendous swirl in the water, the side near jem resounded with a heavy blow from the fish's tail, and the boathook seemed to be snatched out of the striker's hand to go slowly sailing away oceanward. "look at that!" cried jem. "why, i must have driven it right into him. how are we to get it back?" "watch it," said don, excitedly. "it will come out and float directly." don's prophecy did not come to pass, for as they watched, they saw about a foot of the boathook shaft stand sloping out of the water, and go here and there in a curious manner. "let's row after it," suggested don. "wouldn't be no good, mas' don; and we've got nothing to fight him with but pistols. let him be, and the thing will soon wriggle out." jem proved as far wrong as his companion, for, after a time, as they watched and saw the end of the shaft bob here and there; it suddenly disappeared about fifty yards away. "why, mas' don," said jem, laughing, "it's like fishing; and after biting ever so long, the float's gone right under water. now's your time. strike!" "and we've no line," said don, who was beginning to get rid of his nervous sensation. "no, we haven't a line," said jem. "keep your eye on the place where he went down; we mustn't lose that hitcher. say, it won't do to try and swim ashore. that's a shark, that is, and a big one, too. did he hurt you?" "not much. it was like a tremendous blow with somebody's fist. look!" "told you so!" cried jem. "here he comes with a rush to give us back the boathook." "or to attack the boat," said don, as the end of the shaft suddenly appeared away to their right; and then came rapidly nearer in a direct line for where they were. "not he," said jem sturdily. "too stupid." all the same, there was soon a peculiar rising in the water coming direct for them, as the boathook seemed to plough through the sea, which rapidly grew shallower. onward it came, nearer and nearer, till jem gave a warning shout, and placed one foot on the side ready to plunge overboard. "don't do that, jem; it's certain death!" cried don. "don't you stop, mas' don; that's certain death, too. let's swim ashore. now, my lad, now, now. don't stop a fellow; don't!" jem shouted these words excitedly, as don clung to him and held him back, gazing wildly all the time at the disturbed water, as the great fish swiftly approached, till, just as it was within a few yards, the shallowness of the water seemed to startle it, making it give quite a bound showing half its length, and then diving down with a kind of wallow, after which the occupants of the boat saw the wooden pole go trailing along the surface, till once more it was snatched, as it were, out of sight. "don't seem as if he's going to shake it out," said jem. "you must have driven the spike in right over the hook, and it acts like a barb. what a blow you must have given!" "well, i hit as hard as i could," said jem. "he was coming at me. can you see it now?" "no." "keep a sharp look-out; it's sure to come up sometime." the sharp look-out was kept; but they did not see the boathook again, though they watched patiently till nearly sundown, when a hail came from the woods; and as the boat-keepers got up the grapnel and ran the light vessel in shore, the captain and his men appeared slowly to their left, and came down as if utterly wearied out. "look at 'em, mas' don; they've been having a fight." jaded, their clothes torn in all directions, coated with mud, and with their faces smeared and scored, the blood stains on their cheeks and hands gave the returning party all the appearance of those who had been engaged in a fight for life. but it had only been an encounter with the terrible thorns and spines of the wild land they had explored, and the wounds, much as they had bled, were but skin deep. the boat-keepers leaped out, and ran the stern in as close as they could, and the captain was in the act of stepping in, placing a hand on don's shoulder to steady himself, worn out as he was with his long tramp, when it seemed to don that he felt the cold, slimy touch of a shark gliding up against his bare legs, and with a start of horror he sprang sidewise, with the result that the captain, who was bearing down upon the lad's shoulder, fell sidewise into the sea. "you clumsy idiot!" cried the captain; and forgetting himself in his annoyance, worn out as he was, and irritable from his great exertions, he caught at don's extended hand, and then as he rose struck the boy a heavy blow with his doubled fist right in the chest. don staggered heavily, fell into the water, and then struggled up drenched as the captain was before him. then, forgetting in his hot rage everything about their relative positions and the difference in age, the boy made for the tall, frowning officer before him, and would have struck him in his blind wrath but for bosun jones, who had seen everything, and now hastily interposed. "no, no, my boy," he said. "keep back, you are too wet to do any good. allow me, sir." don shrank back, realising the heinousness of the social sin he was about to commit, and a dead silence fell on the group, the men staring wonderingly as the captain accepted bosun jones' help, stepped into the boat, and stood wringing himself. "why, the young dog was going to strike me!" cried the captain. "surely not, sir," said the boatswain hastily. "only going to help you, sir." "help me! i believe he was going to hit out. here, sir, what made you start away like that?" "he thought it was a shark, sir," cried jem. "one's been about the boat all the aft'noon." "hold your tongue, sir!" cried the captain sternly. "here, you boy, what made you flinch!" "thought i felt the shark touch me, sir," said don, sullenly. "oh, then i am to be thrown into the water because you are a cowardly young idiot," cried the captain. "i'll talk to you to-morrow. in with you, my lads, and give way." "there's no boathook!" cried the coxswain; and on the keepers being called to account, their story was received with such manifest doubt, that don writhed and sat sullenly in his place in the boat, as it was rowed back to the sloop. "rather an absurd story that, jones--about the boathook," said the captain as he stepped on board. "mind it is reported to-morrow morning. i believe the young scoundrel was going to strike me." "but you struck him first," said the boatswain to himself, as he saw the captain descend. "hot-headed young rascal. ah! here, lavington, what about that boathook? let's have the simple truth. one of the maoris stole it, and you were afraid to speak?" "i was not afraid to speak the truth, sir," said don; "and i told it." "but that's such a wild story. your messmate could not have driven it into a shark over the hook." "i don't know whether it was driven in over the hook, sir," replied don; "but it stuck in the fish's back and would not come out." the boatswain looked at him thoughtfully, while don waited to hear his words. "look here, lavington," he said, "i liked you, my lad, from the first, and i should be sorry for you to be in serious trouble. i have been your friend, have i not?" "i can't see much friendship in dragging one away from home," said don, coldly. "i had my duty to do, young man, and a sailor is not allowed to ask questions as to what's right or wrong." "but i was treated like a criminal," said don. "you were treated far better than pressed men are as a rule especially those who try to break away. but i can't argue that with you. you and your companion are king's men now, or king's boys, and have to do your duty. let's come back to to-day's work. the captain's offended, and i want to save you from trouble if i can." "it's very kind of you, sir," said don. "now tell me this. do you know what you were going to do when the captain knocked you backwards?" don was silent. "well, i'll tell you," said the boatswain. "you were going to strike him again. that's the truth, is it not?" don remained silent. "it is the truth. well, have you any idea of what a bit of madness that would have been here?" don shook his head. "why, my good lad, you could not commit a greater crime. it means death." "does it, sir?" "does it, sir! why, goodness me, my lad, you must be half mad." "people are sometimes, sir, when they are hit." "yes, that's true enough; but you must master your temper. save all that sort of thing up till you fight the french, and then you will be allowed to grow quite mad if you like. now once more, about that boathook. you did not lose it?" "yes, sir; we did lose it." "ah, i thought so." "because the great fish carried it off." "humph! well, go and get yourself dry. if you are lucky, you will hear no more about this, only have the cost of the boathook deducted out of your pay, and perhaps the captain will have forgotten all about your conduct by to-morrow." "what did he say to you?" said jem, as don went below. don told him. "pay for the boathook?" said jem. "well, i'll do that, my lad. but what did he say--the skipper would forget it by to-morrow?" "yes, jem." "i hope he will." "but i can't forget that he hit me," said don sternly. "now, now, mas' don, you mustn't speak like that." "and you must not speak like that, jem,--_master don_. you'll have some of the men hear you." "well, i'll mind; but you mustn't think any more about that, my lad. he's captain, and can do as he likes. you were going to hit him, weren't you?" "yes, jem, i'm afraid i was. i always feel like that if i'm hurt." "but you mustn't now you're a sailor. say, my lad, things looks rather ugly, somehow. think the captain will punish you?" "we shall see, jem." "but hadn't we better--i say, my lad," he whispered, "we could swim ashore." "and the shark?" "ugh! i forgot him. well, take a boat, and get right away, for i've been thinking, mas' don, it's a very horrid thing to have hit your officer." "but i didn't hit him. he hit me." "but you were going to, mas' don," whispered jem. "strikes me the time's come for running away." don shook his head. "why, you was red hot on it the other day, my lad." "yes, but i've been thinking a great deal about it since, jem; and it seems to me that it would be too cowardly to run now we are king's sailors." "but not if you were going to be punished for doing nothing." "n-o, jem," said don hesitatingly. "and for being hit as the captain hit you." "n-no, jem; but--but somehow--there, don't say any more about it now." chapter twenty three. before the captain. bosun jones was right in his hint. the captain forgot all about don's offence as soon as he was comfortable and rested. he had struck out in his hasty irritation, but his anger soon passed, and had the matter been brought to his notice again, he would have laughed, and said that it was the boy's nature to resent being struck, and that he would make the better sailor. the time passed pleasantly enough in the beautiful harbour, and every day a boat went ashore with a surveying or exploring party, all of whom were examined and cross-examined by their messmates on their return, as to the habits of the new zealand savages, and many a yarn was invented about the maoris' acts. both don and jem found their messmates rough, but good-tempered enough, and the days glided by rapidly; but the opportunity was never given don for joining one of the exploring parties. in every case he was told he was too much of a boy. "never mind, mas' don. you'll grow into a man some day," jem used to say. the maoris were quite friendly, and the very stringent rules made at first were relaxed. the officers and men who went ashore were always armed, and limits were placed to the number of savages allowed to visit the ship; but the boarding netting was dispensed with, and it was not deemed necessary to double the sentries. more than once parties of men were allowed on shore, and upon these occasions don and jem encountered the tattooed englishman. "haven't made up your minds to come and join us?" he said, laughing; and don shook his head. "ah, well! i won't persuade you, my lad. p'r'aps you're best where you are. but if you do make up your mind, come to me." "how should we find you?" said jem, who was careful to acquire knowledge that might be useful. "ask the first man you see for tomati paroni, and he'll bring you to me." "tomati paroni," said don thoughtfully; "is that new zealand for tom-- tom--?" "tom brown," said the chief, laughing. "they have all sorts of english words like that." the country was so beautiful, and the shore presented so many attractions, that the officers kept a strict watch over the men for fear of desertion; but there was something which acted more as a deterrent than anything that the officers could say or do, and that was the report that the natives were cannibals. "lots of 'em would desert," jem said one night, as he lay in his hammock so close to don's that they touched, "only--" "well, only what?" said don. "they say they'd rather stick on board, and be roasted and basted by the captain and officers, than by the blacks." "they're not blacks, jem; and i don't believe about the cannibal work." "well, they arn't blacks certainly, mas' don; but i'm pretty suspicious about the other thing. i once thought as tomati was laughing at us, but it's all true. why, what d'yer think i see only yes'day?" "numbers of things. but what in particular?" "why, one of the big chiefs who come ashore in that long canoe. you know; the one with a figure-head with its tongue sticking out?" "yes; i know." "well, he'd got a flute." "what of that? men have flutes at home. uncle josiah had one." "what was it made on?" whispered jem. "box-wood, with ivory mountings." "well, this chiefs flute was of ivory altogether--i mean, of bone." "well?" "guess what bone it was." "how can i tell?" "bone of a man's leg, mas' don; and he killed the man whose bone it was." "how do you know?" "why, tomati telled me." "yes, but it might not be true; perhaps the man was boasting." don was wearied out with a long day's work, and soon dropped off asleep, to be roused up by the men to take the morning watch. jem and he rolled unwillingly out of their hammocks, and went on deck, to find all dark; and soon after, cold and uncomfortable, they were leaning over the bulwarks together, talking as they scanned the smooth black sea, and the faint outlines of forest and mountain along the silent shore. "this is what i hate in being a sailor," grumbled jem. "no sooner have you got comfortably off to sleep, and begun giving your mind to it, than you're roused up to keep some watch." "yes, it is wearisome, jem." "wearisome's nothing to it. i was dreaming, mas' don, when they routed us up." "so was i, jem." "what was you dreaming about, mas' don?" "home." "hah!" said jem, with a sigh; "so was i. wonder what my sally's doing now." "sitting down to tea, jem." "what! in the middle of the night?" "it's the middle of the afternoon now, perhaps, jem, on the other side of the world." "dessay it is, sir, if you says so; but i never can understand that kind of talk. say, my lad, how dark it is! why if four or five of those great war canoes liked to come out now, with a lot of fighting men aboard, they could take this here ship before we could cry jack robinson. look yonder. isn't that one stealing out from behind that island?" "no, jem; i see nothing but shadow." "then p'r'aps it arn't; but i'm always thinking i see 'em coming out full of men." "fancy, jem." "so it is, i s'pose. know how long we're going to stop here, mas' don?" "no, jem. getting tired of it?" "tired? ay, lad. i want to go home." that morning, about a couple of hours after the watch had been relieved, don was on deck, when he saw one of the long war canoes, with its hideously carved prow and feather-decorated occupants, come sweeping along close to the shore and dash right away at great speed. "wish we was in her," sighed a voice at his ear. don turned sharply, to find jem gazing longingly after the flashing paddles of the canoe, one of which was waved at him as they passed. "what for, jem?" "to get away from here, mas' don. wish you'd alter your mind. i want to see my sally once more." "here, you two! this way," said a severe voice; and the stern-looking master came up. "this way. the captain wants a word with both of you." "the captain?" began don, as his old trouble flashed into his mind. "that will do. now then, this way," said the master sternly; and he led them to the quarter-deck, where the captain was standing, with a couple of the officers by his side, and, a little distance in front, ramsden, the sinister-looking seaman who, since the night they were pressed, had always seemed to bear the two bristolians ill-will. don and jem saluted, and stood before their officer, who looked them over searchingly, his eyes resting on theirs in a fierce, penetrating way that was far from pleasant. then, turning from them contemptuously, he signed to ramsden to come forward. "now," he said sharply, "repeat what you told me just now." "yes, sir. i had to go below yes'day evening when, as i was going along 'tween the 'ammocks, i hears the word _desert_ and i was that took aback, sir, i--" "ah! you are the sort of man who would be took aback on hearing such a word," said the first lieutenant, with a sneer. "yes, sir," said ramsden. "let him speak," said the captain, scowling to hide a smile. "soon as i heard that word _desert_, i felt stopped short like; and then i heard voices making plans for going ashore." "what did they say?" "can't rec'lect what they said exactly, sir; only as one talked about a boat, and the other about a canoe. it was lavington as asked about the canoe; and just now, sir, they was watching a canoe that went by, and they exchanged signals." "yes, i saw them watching that canoe," said the captain, fixing his eyes on jem. "yes, sir; and one of the chiefs waved a paddle to them." the captain nodded, and ramsden was going on with his charge, when he was stopped. "that will do, my man," said the captain; "i know quite enough. now look here," he continued, turning to don and jem, "i am compelled to believe what this man says, for i saw enough to corroborate his testimony; but i will give you an opportunity for defending yourselves. is what he says true?" don's lips parted to say it was only about half true; but a feeling of agonised shame checked his words. there was too much truth in it for him to make a bold denial, so he remained silent; and jem, taking his cue from his companion, was silent too. "come," said the captain, "i like that. there is honesty in it, my lads; and as you are both young, and pressed men, i will not be so severe as i might for such an offence as yours." "didn't commit no offence," said jem sturdily. "silence, sir! now then, you know, i suppose, that though we are living a peaceful life out here, these are war times, and the punishment of deserters is--death." jem started, but don did not stir. "now you are both very young, and you have worked so well, and with so much promise of making yourselves sailors, that i should be sorry for you--either of you--to be guilty of such a mad trick as desertion. if you tried it, you would almost certainly be retaken, and--the punishment must follow. if, on the other hand, you escaped, it would be into the savage country before you, where you would fall into the hands of some enemy tribe, who would kill you both like dogs. i daresay you have heard what takes place afterwards, when the maori tribes have taken prisoners?" jem shuddered, but don made no sign. "ah! i see you know," continued the captain, "so i need say little more. i am satisfied that you will neither of you be guilty of such an act of madness as you contemplated, especially now that i tell you that i stop at nothing which the law gives me power to do for the preservation of the discipline of my ship. these two lads," he said, turning to give an order, "will be placed in irons for the present." he made a sign, and the two prisoners were taken below deck, and placed in irons. "better than being hung, my lads," said the armourer gruffly; and soon after they were alone, with a sentry on duty not far from where they were seated. chapter twenty four. tomatl's promise. "wonder whether mike ever had a taste of this sort o' thing, mas' don," said jem, after they had sat in silence some time, don's face not inviting any attempt at conversation. "he never said anything about being in irons when he spun yarns about adventures." "jem!" said don indignantly; and as if it only wanted his companion's words to start him in a furious outburst of passion; "it is shameful! it is a cruel indignity and disgrace." "hush, hush, my lad! don't take it that way. they arn't so werry heavy, and they don't hurt much." "hurt? not hurt much? why, they are treating us as if we were thieves." "what, being ironed, sir? well, it do seem a bit hard." "it's cruel! it's horrible! and he had no right to do it for such an offence." "steady, my lad, steady. the sentry 'll hear you, and have his turn, p'r'aps, at telling tales." "but he had no right to do this, i say." "p'r'aps not, mas' don; but skippers does just what they please when they're out at sea in war time. i thought he was going to hang us once." "he would not dare," said don. "well, if he did, i should have liked to have a few words first with mr ramsden; for of all the mean, dirty, sneaking chaps i ever set eyes on, he's about the worst." "a mean, cowardly spy!" cried don. "ah, that's it; so he is, mas' don; a mean, cowardly spy. i couldn't think o' them words, but they're just what he is.--say, mas' don." "don't, don't, don't, jem." "don't what, mas' don?" "don't do that. _master don_. it sounds so foolish, and it's ridiculous, seeing what we are." "all right, my lad, i'll be careful; but what i wanted to say was, would there be any harm in taking master ramsden by his waistband, and dropping him some night over into the sea?" "do you want to commit murder, jem?" "do i want to commit murder? nay, mas' don, gently, gently; don't talk to a man like that. i only meant to give him a ducking." "amongst the sharks?" "ugh! i forgot all about the sharks, mas' don. i say, think there are many of 'em about?" "they say there are plenty, and we saw a monster, jem." "so we did, my lad; so we did, and a nice lot o' worry he's got us in through stealing that boathook. but, look here, how do you feel now?" "heart-sick and tired of it all, jem. i wish we had run off when we had the chance." "you do?" "i do. see how we have been served: dragged from our homes, roughly used; bullied and ill-treated; and with that man's word taken before ours. it's too bad--too bad." "well, it is, mas' don," whispered jem. "but you see it was awkward. you couldn't swear as you hadn't thoughts of deserting." "deserting?" said don hotly. "i will not have it called deserting. i say it is only claiming our liberty, when we have been seized upon and treated like slaves." "what a weather-cocky way you have got, mas' don. only t'other day you was all on the other tack, and says, says you, `it's deserting, and cowardly,' and a lot more to that tune, and the way you went on at me, sir, made my hair curl." "i had not had this last blow, jem. i had not been put in irons then like a common thief." "silence, below there!" cried an angry voice. "sentry, stop that talking by the prisoners." the marine marched slowly toward them, and growled out his orders. then, settling his head in his stiff stock, he faced round and marched away. "all right, jolly," said jem, good-humouredly; and then drawing closer to his companion in misfortune, he went on talking in a whisper. "say, mas' don, do you mean it now?" "mean what?" "going? it's now or never. if we waits till we goes off to sea again our chance is gone." "i mean it, jem." "that's a good bargain, my lad," said jem, slapping him on the knee. "then the sooner we're off the better." "how can we go?" "how? easy enough. get on deck, slide down a rope over the side when it's dark." "in irons?" "they don't weigh much. we could get hold of an oar or two, or lower down a grating, and hold on by that till we'd swam ashore." "and the sharks, jem?" "oh, those sharks!" cried jem, pettishly. "i always forget them. i wish there wasn't such a thing as a shark on the face of the earth. well, we must try some other way." "that's easy enough to say, jem; but what way is there?" "oh, i don't know yet, mas' don; but they say, `where there's a will there's a way.' p'r'aps i can think it out. 'member that big case as was too wide to come into the lower warehouse?" "yes." "well, your uncle said he'd be obliged to have the doorposts cut, but i thought that out after i'd measured it, and i found that it would just go in at the top warehouse doors if we hauled it up with the crane." "you used to call it winding anything up, jem." "ay, but i hadn't been to sea then, mas' don. well, didn't i have that there case up to the top floor, and then lower it down through all the traps, and get it into the ground floor without the door being cut; and when your uncle come in, he stared, and asked me how i'd managed it?" "yes, i remember it all," said don sadly. "look here, you two. i don't want to be hard," said the marine; "but you'll get me into a row. now, are you going to clap on the hatchways, or am i to report you?" "all right, jolly; we won't talk any more," said jem; and he kept his word that night. there was no release next day, and very drearily it passed till towards evening, when jem waited till the sentry's back was turned, and put his lips to don's ear. "i've got it, mas' don," he said. "what, can you see your way to escape?" "i've hit it out, my lad. look here. do you know them's men's irons you've got on?" "yes. they don't make irons for boys." "then look here, my lad; it may mean a bit of skin off; but all you've got to do is to squeeze your feet through those rings, and then i'll be bound to say a thin slip of a fellow like you can creep out of the iron round your waist." "i don't think so, jem. i'm stouter than you fancy." "oh no, you're not, and i dessay it'll be a tight fit; but you do it." "and suppose i do get out of them, what about you?" "about me, mas' don? ah, i don't know about me; but you could get right away, slide down the rope, get the gig up alongside--" "when it's swinging from the davits, jem?" "there you go again," grumbled jem. "i never did see such a fellow for chucking stumbling-blocks all over the place for a man to hit his shins against." "then propose something possible. and besides, you don't suppose i'm going away without you." "but i can't get my irons off, and you can get yours." "i don't know that," said don, trying; and, to his great surprise, finding that he could drag the ring over his ankle without much difficulty. "there, i told you so. slip it on again 'fore the sentry sees." the marine was not likely to see, for the place was very dark where they sat, and for a long time they discussed the matter in a whisper, but only to be obliged to come to the conclusion that it was impossible to escape, unless don would go alone. "well, if you won't go alone, you won't, mas' don," said jem, in an ill-used tone; "but i do say as it's shabby of you, after i've thought about it so much." the second night of their imprisonment passed slowly, and they were cudgelling their brains next day, when they were summoned on deck, received a severe reprimand, and, after their irons had been taken off, were told to go to their duty. then a week passed of land surveying and chart making, during which time the intercourse with the natives had been kept on a very friendly footing; and then a rumour ran round the ship that they were to sail after a certain channel had been sounded and the chart made. "it's all over, mas' don," said jem gloomily. "we shall go sailing away all over the world, and be took by the french, and never see home again!" don made no reply, but went about his duty gloomily enough till toward afternoon, when a canoe came off from the shore, manned by about fifty of the new zealanders, and with tomati and ngati in the stern. these two were soon on board, and were entertained by the captain, who made them several useful presents. how he managed it don hardly knew himself, but he contrived to get close behind the tattooed englishman, and said softly, just as the officers were laughing and watching ngati, who was going through his war-dance for their delectation, and distorting his features to the greatest extent,-- "could you come after dark to-night in your canoe, and take us ashore?" "hist! mind what you're saying," replied the man, clapping his legs loudly, as if to encourage his companion to fresh exertions and distortions of his countenance. "i want to come," said don softly, in the midst of the applause. "i daren't do it, my lad. they'd come down after me if i did; but i'll send ngati. he'll come in his little canoe." don's heart beat wildly at these words, and he had no chance to say more, for tomati went toward the officers, talked with them for a while; and then, as don watched, he saw him go to the big chief, clap him on the shoulder, and say something which made the great fellow smile. the new zealanders seemed to show more interest in the appointments of the ship than they had displayed before, and the officers were civil enough to them, exchanging presents, and getting from the dusky warriors greenstone ornaments and weapons in exchange for powder and tobacco. don's heart had ceased to beat, and he was thinking despondently that he might as well give up all idea of evasion, when a hand was laid upon his shoulder, and looking up, it was to encounter the hideous face of the big chief, who said, with a peculiar laugh,-- "my pakeha. bring gunpowder plenty. wait by big ship. dark." it was not a very clear promise, but don realised that it meant a chance of escape, and his eyes flashed with excitement, as the chief went on. "plenty gunpowder. bring, bring. my pakeha." he went off directly to where some of his fellows were standing about the deck, and hardly realising whether the chief was to be depended on, don was about to go in search of jem, when he felt a chill of despair, for, as he turned, he encountered the sinister countenance of ramsden, his eye fixed upon him in a watchful way, and a satisfied smile playing about his lips. did he hear? did he know? if he did, don felt certain that the scoundrel would go and report all to one of the officers, and so get it to the captain's ears. still there was hope. he might not have heard, and as to the new zealand men speaking to him, they were doing that to nearly every sailor they encountered on the deck. still he felt that it would be better not to be seen speaking to jem, and he crossed to another part of the ship, and stood watching the leave-taking of the visitors, who descended into their canoe laden with presents and the objects they had obtained by barter. tomati was the last to descend, and he was standing in the gangway with a bottle of rum and a canister of powder in his hands, when don heard the first lieutenant say to him jocularly,-- "i say, my fine fellow: i believe if the truth was known, you slipped off from norfolk island, and took up your residence here." the man made no answer for a few moments, but stood looking the officer full in the face. "what island did you say, sir?" he said at last. "norfolk island. am i right?" "i'm a chief of this tribe, sir," said the man sturdily, "and these are my people. i'm not an englishman now." he went down into his canoe, and it darted away, propelled by fifty paddles, while the lieutenant turned away laughing, and went to the captain. "that man's an escaped convict, or i'm a dutchman, sir," he said; and they went forward talking. don cast an eye round for jem, but he was not in sight. ramsden was though; and, go where he would for the rest of that day, don always woke to the fact that this man was at hand, apparently taking no notice, but watching him. it seemed as if he would never have a chance to speak to jem about what had passed; but at last ramsden went below, and after a little inquiry don learned that jem was aloft in the foretop, helping a couple more men at repairing some of the toggles and reef points of a sail. don ran up as fast as his skill would allow, and had hardly reached the top when ramsden came back on deck, and began seeking him out. don paused, out of sight now, to watch the man in turn, and saw him go from place to place, looking about searchingly, and undoubtedly for him. "hullo, my lad!" said jem cheerily; "come to help?" don shook his head, and remained watching the progress of the men, but giving jem a meaning look from time to time, sufficient to stimulate his curiosity, and make him on the _qui vive_. then to avoid suspicion, he hurried down, and had hardly reached the deck again before ramsden, who had again been below, came once more on deck, and remained watching him till dark. "let's get under the lee of this bulwark," said don, when at last he found an opportunity for speaking to jem alone. "we shall get in a row if we are seen," said jem. "but it's too dark for us to be seen," whispered don; and this seeming to be the case, they went into the shadow cast by one of the quarter boats, and lay down. "what is it, mas' don?" said jem in a whisper, as soon as they had satisfied themselves that they were alone. don related what had passed; but jem did not seem to take to it. "no," he said; "he is not likely to come, and if he did, they'd hear his canoe, and nail him. what time did he say?" "time? there was no time named." "then how shall we know, my lad? we can't watch for him all night." "why not?" said don excitedly. "it seems to be our last chance." "well, i dunno," said jem, gloomily; "it don't seem to me like a chance at all. but i'll do what you do, my lad. i'll stand by you." "then let's begin our watch at once, after we've put a rope overboard from the forechains, so as to slip down when the canoe comes." "and what then?" "then, jem, we must swim to it, and they'll take us aboard." "and the sharks, my lad?" "sharks!" said don despairingly. "i'd forgotten them." "that's what i used to do, but you always remembered." "jem," said don, after a pause, "we must chance the sharks. they will not see us in the dark." "but if--no; i won't show the white feather, mas' don," said jem. "come on, and we'll get a rope over to starboard and larboard too." "no need, jem," said don. "the canoe is sure to come from the land side." "all right, sir. come on, and don't say another word." jem crept away, keeping in the shadow, and moving very slowly, so as not to attract the attention of the watch, and don followed, while, as soon as he had gone a few yards, what looked like a dog slowly crept by on all fours close beneath the bulwark, after getting up from a crouching position just by where the pair had been discussing their chances of escape. chapter twenty five. the alarm. there were so many opportunities for lying _perdu_ on the deck of a man-of-war on a dark night that the shadowy figure had no difficulty in keeping pretty close to don lavington and his companion as, decided now upon their course of action, they laid hold upon a stout line where it was coiled up, and after running a sufficiency over the side to touch water, made it fast close to the main chains. this done, they went cautiously forward so as to avoid the watch, and after being nearly seen, more than once, succeeded in getting a second line over the side close to the fore chains, in happy unconsciousness of the fact that the shadowy-looking figure was watching every movement. as is the fashion aboard a man-of-war, the actors in this scene were barefooted, and thus able to pass quietly along the well-scrubbed deck; but unfortunately for them, the sailor playing the spy had the same advantage, and kept them in view unnoticed and unheard. now he was lying under the bulwarks, and so close that jem's foot almost touched his shoulder. another time he was lying in one of the boats slung from the davits--then behind a coil of rope--behind the cook's galley--in the lee of a cask--once in a water barrel which was to be filled with the icy fluid of the river which came down from one of the mountains; always, with the activity of a monkey, contriving to be somewhere close at hand, till they stood at last, silent and watchful, about mid-way between the fore and main chains, peering out into the darkness shoreward and listening for the faintest sound from off the sea. it was a wonderfully still night, and though out to the east the restless waves beat heavily on reef and shore, their action here was a slow heaving and curling over on the black metallic sand with a sound that to those on shipboard was like a whisper, but whose movement could be seen by a faint line of lambent light just in the blackest part to leeward of the ship, where sea touched shore. sometimes this was so faint as to be hardly visible to the best-trained sight; at others it was as if some phosphorescent serpent was gliding swiftly along the sands, and it was in this direction that don strained his eyes in the hope of catching sight of ngati's canoe, whose paddles would churn up the water and shed on either side a faint golden light. on board there were the customary anchor lanterns, and the faint glow thrown up from the skylights; but these seemed to have scarcely any effect upon the darkness, which hung down like a pall over the vessel, and don's spirits rose as he felt how well they were concealed. then they sank once more, for jem placed his lips close to his ear and whispered,-- "it's too dark, my lad; we shall never be able to see the canoe if she comes." just then don pressed his arm, and they listened together to what sounded like a faint sawing noise, which stopped and was renewed several times, and was followed by a slight splash. the sounds came from forward, apparently somewhere in the direction of the foreshrouds; but though they listened intently it was heard no more. "fish," said jem in a whisper, "trying to climb up into the ship, and then tumbled back into the sea." "nonsense!" said don, shortly. "now you look to the left, and i'll look to the right." "right, my lad. i'll look, but she won't come." the searching scrutiny went on, and to don, as he strained his eyes, it seemed as if all kinds of uncouth-looking monsters kept looming up out of the sea and disappearing; and though from time to time he told himself that it was all fancy, the various objects that his excited vision formed were so real that it was hard to believe that they were only the coinage of his fancy. he turned and looked on board at the various lights, faintly-seen, with the result that his eyes were rested, while he listened to the monotonous talking of the watch and an occasional burst of laughter from the gunroom, or the regular murmur from the forecastle. then he watched shoreward again for the faint golden flash made by the paddles of ngati's canoe. no lambent glow, no sound of paddling, not even a murmur from the shore, where the native huts were gathered together, and the great _whare_ stood with its singularly carved posts representing human form over human form in strange combinations, with grotesque heads, pearly shell eyes, and tongues protruding from distorted mouths. then jem caught don's arm in turn, for there was a splash far away to the left, below where, faintly-seen, a great sugar-loaf mountain rose high into the heavens. the splash was not repeated, but, just as they had given up listening for it, once more the dull sawing sound came out of the darkness, but this time, instead of being forward it was away aft--how far they could not tell, for in the darkness sounds, like lights, may be close at hand or a couple of hundred yards away--it is hard to tell which. the faint sawing went on for some time, ceased, and was renewed, to finish as before with a curious rustling and a splash. "what can that be, jem?" whispered don. "not going to wenture an observation again," replied jem, sourly. then all was still save the murmurs of voices inboard, and don stood pressed against the bulwark listening intently, and thinking that before they went below to their hammocks they must haul up the lines again and coil them down, or their appearance would betray that something had been going on. how long they had been waiting since the last sound was heard, don could not tell; but all was so wonderfully still that the silence was oppressive; and after arriving at the conclusion that the canoe would not come, as from the utter absence of light or movement ashore it was evident that none of the natives were stirring, he turned to jem. "asleep?" he whispered. "i arn't a horse, am i?" was the surly reply. "nice place to go to sleep standing up, mas' don.--think he'll come?" "i in afraid not, now." "what shall us do?" don was silent. "say, mas' don," whispered jem, after a thoughtful pause, "seems a pity to waste them ropes after--" "hist!" don's hand was on his lips, for voices were heard from aft, and directly after they heard the captain say,-- "yes; extremely dark. think we shall have a storm?" "no," said the first lieutenant, "the glass is too high. very dark indeed." then two faint sparks of light could be seen, indicating that the speakers were smoking, and the low murmuring of their voices suggested that they were chatting carelessly together. "keep your hand down, mas' don," said jem in a whisper, after removing it. "they can't hear us, and if they did they'd think it was the watch. say, look here, seems a pity to waste them ropes after we've got 'em down ready." "yes, jem, it does." "such a short way to slide down, and no fear o' their breaking, same as there was in that cock-loft. what d'yer say?" "what to?" "let's slide down and swim for it. 'tarn't quarter of a mile. you could do that easy." "yes, jem; i think so." "and i'd help you if you got tired. let's go." "but the sharks." "there i goes again. i always forgets them sharks; but look here, my lad, it's dark as pitch." "quite, jem." "we can't see twenty yards afore us, not clear." "not ten, jem." "well, that's through the air. we couldn't see an inch through water." "what of that?" "more couldn't the sharks." "think not, jem?" "i feel 'bout sure on it. look here, mas' don, i arn't got any money, but if i had, i'd wager half-a-guinea that all the sharks are at home and fast asleep; and if there's any of 'em shut out and roaming about in the streets--i mean in the sea--it's so dark that they couldn't see more than an inch before their noses; so let's open our knives ready, in case one should come, so that we could dive down and stab him, same as the natives do, and then swim on ashore. i'll risk it: will you?" don was silent for a few moments. "don't say _yes_, my lad, if you'd rayther not," said jem, kindly. "i don't want to persuade you." "i'm ready, jem. i was thinking whether it was right to let you go." "oh, never you mind about me, my lad. now, look here, shall us one go down each rope, or both down one?" "both down this one close here, and whoever goes down first can wait for the other. yes, jem; i'll go first." "when?" "now, at once." "hoo--ray!" whispered jem in don's ear, so sharply that it produced a strange tickling sensation. "open your knife, jem." "right, my lad; i'm ready." "this way, then. hist!" don caught jem's arm in a firm grip as he was moving along the deck, each feeling somewhat agitated at the daring venture of exchanging firm planks for the treacherous sea, infested as they knew it was by horrible creatures which could tear them limb from limb. jem had heard a sound at the same moment, and he needed no telling that he should listen. for from some distance off along the shore there was a faint splash, and, as they strained their eyes in the direction from whence it had come, they could see flashes of pale light, which they knew were caused by paddles. "it's them, jem," whispered don, excitedly. "we must not start yet till the canoe is close up. i wish i had told him that i would make some signal." "it'll be all right, my lad," said jem huskily. "give 'em time. think the watch 'll see 'em?" "i hope not," panted don, as he strained his eyes in the direction of the faintly flashing paddles, which seemed to be moved very cautiously. "think it is them, jem?" "who could it be?" "might it be a war canoe coming to try and capture the ship?" "not it," said jem sturdily; "it's ugly, as put out his tongue, coming to help us away. my, mas' don, how i should like to chop him under the chin next time he does that pretty trick of his." "silence, man! listen, and look out. let's get close to the rope first." they crept softly toward the rope hanging down from the main chains, ready to their hand, and, as they crept, the dark figure that had seemed to be spying over their movements crept too, but on toward the quarter-deck, where the captain and the first lieutenant were lolling over the rail, and talking gently as they smoked--rather a rare custom in those days. "it's the canoe, jem," whispered don; "and it's coming closer." they strained their eyes to try and make out the men in the long, low vessel, but it was too dark. they could not even hear the plash of a paddle, but they knew that some boat--that of friend or foe--was slowly coming toward the ship, for the flashing of the paddles in the phosphorescent water grew more plain. "ready, jem?" "yes, i'm ready, lad. rope's just where you stand." "what!" cried the captain's voice loudly, and then there was a quick murmur of talking. "what's that mean, mas' don?" "don't know. some order." "boat ahoy!" cried one of the watch forward, and there was a buzz of excitement which told that the paddling of the canoe had been seen. "watch there forward!" roared the captain. "ay, ay, sir," came back. "follow me, jem; we must swim to her now." "i'm after you, my lad." "jem!" in a tone of despair. "what is it!" "the rope's cut!" "what? so it is. never mind. after me! there's the one in the forechains." in the midst of a loud buzz of voices, and the pad, pad--pad, pad of bare feet on the deck, jem and don reached the forechains; and jem ran his hand along in the darkness till he felt the knot by which he had secured the rope. "here she is, mas' don. now, then, over with you quick, or i shall be a-top of your head." "i've got it," whispered don. then in a voice full of despair,-- "this is cut, too!" at the same moment the captain's voice rang out,-- "look out there, you in the watch forward; two men are trying to leave the ship!" chapter twenty six. what mr. jones thought. "what's to be done, mas' don?" whispered jem, whom this second proof of treachery against them seemed to have robbed of the power to act. "this way," cried a voice, which they recognised as ramsden's. "by the forechains." "oh, if i had hold of you," snarled jem, as he ground his teeth. "do you hear me?" whispered don. "come on." he spoke from where he stood on the bulwark, holding by one of the shrouds, and offering his hand to jem, who could not see it, but climbed to his side. "header?" he whispered. "yes.--off!" don gave the word as he glanced in the direction where he believed the canoe to lie; and then, raising his hands above his head, he sprang right off the bulwark into the sea. _splash_! a moment's pause and then-- _splash_! jem had followed suit, and there was a faint display--if the expression is allowable--of water fireworks, as innumerable pinhead-like beads of light flashed away in every direction. "lanthorns here!" cried the captain. "sentries, quick! this way." he reached the spot from which don and jem had taken their daring leap, and in less than a minute the light of a couple of lanthorns was thrown upon the sea. "come back!" roared the captain, "or i fire. marines, make ready." the lanthorns' light gleamed further on the sea as those who held them clambered up the shrouds and held them at arms' length, and then dimly-seen were the backs of the heads of the two swimmers, who made the water swirl as they struck out with all their might. "do you hear, you scoundrels?" roared the captain again. "come back, or i fire." there was no reply and the heads began to grow more faint in the gloom, while now the news had spread through the ship, and officers and men came tumbling up the companion ladder and out of their cabins. "marines, present--fire!" cried the captain. there were two sharp clicks and as many tiny showers of sparks. that was all. "why, you were not loaded!" cried the captain, fiercely, "where is the lieutenant? where is the sergeant? load, you scoundrels, load!" the men grounded arms, and began to load quickly, the thudding of their iron ramrods sounding strangely in the still night air. "pipe away the first cutter!" cried the captain. "mr rogerson, bring those scoundrels back." the shrill pipe of the boatswain was heard, and there was a rush of feet as the captain shouted again,-- "present--fire!" there was a sharp flash, a loud report, and the captain stamped with rage. "fire, you scoundrel, fire!" he roared at the second man, who was about to lower his clumsy musket, after tugging in vain at the trigger, when the piece went off, and the bullet fled skyward, sending the nearest lanthorn held up in the shrouds out of its holder's hand, to fall with a splash in the sea, and float for a few moments before it filled and sank, the candle burning till the water touched the wick. "'pon my word!" cried the captain. "nice state of discipline. now you--fire again. and you, sir, load. can you see the men, marines?" "no, sir. right out of sight." "then fire where they were when you saw them last." "but they won't be there now, sir." "silence, you scoundrel! how dare you? fire!" _bang_. "now you: are you ready?" "yes, sir." "fire!" _bang_. "load again!" cried the captain. "now, you scoundrels, come back or you shall have a volley." a strange noise came off the sea. "hark! what's that?" cried the captain. "a cry for help!" "no, sir." "what was it, then?" "beg pardon, sir; but i think it was one on 'em a-larfin'." the captain gave the speaker--one of the warrant officers--a furious look. "now, then, is that boat going to be all night?" he shouted. "all ready, sir. lower away." the boat kissed the sea with a faint splash; she was thrust off; and as the oars dropped and the men gave way the cutter went rapidly through the water, at a rate which would have soon made the fugitives prisoners but for the fact that boat and swimmers were taking different directions, and the distance between them increased at every stroke. "they've taken no lanthorn!" cried the captain. "surely no one's orders were ever worse obeyed." "shall i call them back, sir?" said the second lieutenant. "no, no; let them find it out for themselves. here, marines, ten of you load. quick, my lads, clear the way from up here." "make ready, take good aim at the scoundrels--present--fire!" this time the whole of the pieces went off with a loud rattle, which brought lights out in the new zealand village, and a buzz of excitement came from the men. "more lanthorns there!" cried the captain. "see them?" he cried, to the officer in the boat. "not yet, sir." "take a sweep round to the southward. they're more there." "ay, ay, sir!" came faintly out of the darkness; and the dull rattle of the oars reached those on deck. "i'll have those two back, dead or alive!" cried the captain, stamping about in his rage. "pipe down the second cutter." his orders were obeyed, and in a short time, with a lanthorn in bow and stern, the second boat touched the water, and rowed off, the officer in command receiving instructions to bear off more still to the southward, and finally sweep round so as to meet the first boat. directly this was started a happy thought seemed to strike the captain, who had a third boat lowered, with instructions to row right ashore, land the men, and divide them in two parties, which would strike off to right and left, stationing a man at every fifty yards; and these were to patrol the beach to and fro, keeping watch and a sharp look out for the fugitives. "that will checkmate them, mr jones," he said. "i wish i had thought of this before. now go." mr bosun jones was in command of this boat, and he gave orders to his men, the oars splashed, and away they went into the darkness, their lights growing fainter and fainter, till they seemed to be mere specks in the distance; but they did not die out, and as those left on deck watched the progress, they saw the lanthorns of the last boat become stationary, and knew that the men had reached the shore, while the lanthorns of the second cutter were faintly visible, moving slowly far away to the south. the captain rubbed his hands with satisfaction, and kept walking to the gangway and using his night-glass without any greater result than that of seeing a couple of faint specks of light, when he got the boats' lanthorns into the field. then he listened in the hope of hearing shouts, which would suggest the capture of the fugitives; but half an hour--an hour--glided by, and all was still. the buzz and cries which had arisen from the collection of huts had ceased, and the lights shown there had been extinguished, while the darkness which hung over the sea appeared to grow more dense. at last there was a hail about a hundred yards away, and the officer in the first boat answered the captain's eager inquiry. "no, sir; no luck. not a sign of any one. i'm afraid--" "they have got ashore and escaped?" "no, sir," said the lieutenant, gravely; "i don't think a man could swim ashore in this darkness and escape." "why, the distance is very short!" "yes, sir; but there are obstacles in the way." "obstacles?" "well, sir, i've seen some tremendous sharks about in the clear water; and i don't think any one could get any distance without having some of the brutes after him." a terrible silence followed this declaration, and the captain drew his breath hard. "come aboard," he said. "it is too dark for further search to be made." the boat was rowed alongside, the falls lowered, the hooks adjusted, and she was hoisted up and swung inboard. "i'd give anything to capture the scoundrels," said the captain, after walking up and down for a few minutes with the lieutenant; "but i don't want the poor fellows to meet with such a fate as that. do you think it likely?" "more than likely, sir," said the lieutenant, coldly. the captain turned aft, made his way to the quarter-deck, and remained there attentively watching shoreward to where he could faintly see the lights of the last boat. "we must leave further search till morning," muttered the captain; and giving his order, signal lamps were run up to recall the boats; and before very long they were answered, and the lanthorns of bosun jones' boat could soon after be seen heading slowly for the ship, the second boat following her example a few minutes later. "no signs of them, mr jones?" said the captain, as his warrant officer reached the deck to report himself. "no, sir," said the boatswain, sadly; "but i heard a sound, and one of my men heard it too." "a sound? what sound?" "like a faint cry of distress, sir." "yes; and what did you make of that?" the boatswain was silent a moment. "the harbour here swarms with sharks, sir, and the cry sounded to me like that of a man being drawn under water." "no, no; no, no; not so bad as that," said the captain, rather excitedly. "they've got to shore, and we will have them back to-morrow. the people will give them up either by threats or bribes." "i hope so, sir," said the boatswain, coldly. and, then, as he went below, "poor lad! i'd have given a year of my life rather than it should have happened. this pressing is like a curse to the service." by this time the officer in the last boat had reported himself, the crews were dismissed, the watch set, and all was silence and darkness again. about dawn the captain, after an uneasy night, came on deck, glass in hand, to search the shore, and try to make out some sign of the fugitives; but just as he had focussed his glass, he caught sight of some one doing the very same thing, and going softly to the bows he found that the officer busy with the glass was bosun jones, who rose and saluted his superior. "see anything, mr jones?" the captain said. "no, sir; only the regular number of canoes drawn up on the beach." "have you thought any more about what you said you heard last night?" "yes, sir, a great deal." "but you don't think the poor lad met such a fate as you hinted at?" "yes, sir, i do," said the boatswain sternly; "and i feel as if i had helped to bring him to such a death." "mr jones," said the captain, haughtily, "you merely did your duty as a warrant officer in the king's service. if that unfortunate boy met such a disastrous fate, it was in an attempt to desert." the captain closed his glass with a loud snap, and walked away, while bosun jones stood with his brow knit and his lips compressed, gazing straight before him as the sun rose and shed a flood of light over the glorious prospect. but to the bluff petty officer everything seemed sad and gloomy, and he went below seeing nothing but the frank, manly features of young don lavington, as he muttered to himself,-- "not a chance of escape. poor boy! poor boy!" chapter twenty seven. the fugitives. don and jem plunged almost simultaneously into the black, cold water, and felt the sea thundering in their ears. then jem, being broader and stouter than his companion, rose to the surface and looked round for don; but a few seconds of agony ensued before the water parted and the lad's head shot up into the faint light shed by the lanthorns. "now for it, mas' don," whispered jem; "think as it's a race, and we're going to win a cup at a 'gatta. slow and sure, sir; slow and sure, long, steady strokes, and keep together." "they're calling to us to stop, jem," whispered don. "let 'em call, mas' don. somebody else seems a-calling of me, and that's my sally. oh, don't i wish i hadn't got any clothes." "can they see us?" whispered don, as they swam steadily on. "i don't believe they can, sir; and if they can, they won't see us long. shouldn't be surprised if they lowered a boat." "ah! look out!" whispered don. "shall we dive?" for he heard the clicking of the muskets as they missed fire. "well, i do call that cowardly," said jem, as he heard the order to load; "shooting at a couple of poor fellows just as if they was wild duck." "swim faster, jem," said don, as he gazed back over his shoulders at the lights as the shots rang out. "no, no; swim slower, my lad. they can't see us; and if they could, i don't believe as the men would try and hit us. ah! not hit, are you?" "no, jem; are you?" "not a bit of it, my lad. there they go again. steady. we're all right now, unless a boat comes after us. we shall soon get ashore at this rate, and the tide's helping up, and carrying us along." "toward shore, jem, or out to sea?" "shore, of course," said jem, as he swam on his side, and kept an eye on the faint lights of the ship. "say, mas' don, they won't hang us, will they, if they ketches us?" "what made you say that?" "because here comes a boat after us.--hear the skipper?" "yes; but the canoe--where is the canoe?" don raised himself, and began to tread water, as he looked in the direction where they had seen the water flash beneath the paddles. "i dunno, my lad. can't see nothing but the lights of the ship. better swim straight ashore. we sha'n't be able to see no canoe to-night." they swam steadily on, hearing only too plainly the plans made for their recapture. the orders, the creaking of the falls, even the plash made by the boats, as they kissed the water, and the dull rattle of the oars in the rowlocks was carried in the silence of the night distinctly to their ears, while the regular plash, plash, plash, as the oars dipped, sent a thrill through don, and at times seemed to chill his energy. but these checks were almost momentary. there was a sense of freedom in being away from the ship, and, in spite of the darkness, a feeling of joyous power in being able to breast the long heaving swell, and pass on through the water. "better not talk, mas' don," whispered jem, as they swam; "sound goes so easily over the water." "no, i'm not going to talk," said don; "i want all my breath for swimming." "don't feel tired, do you?" "not a bit." "that's right, lad. stick to it steady like. their lanthorns aren't much good. don't you be skeart; we can see them plain enough, but they can't see us." "but it seems as if they could," whispered don, as they saw a man standing up in the bows of one of the boats, holding a lanthorn on high. "yes, seems," whispered jem; "but there's only our heads out of water, and only the tops o' them sometimes. say, that must ha' been fancy about the canoe." "no, jem; she's somewhere about." "glad on it: but i wish she'd come and pick us up." they swam on silently toward the shore, listening to the shouts of the men, and watching alternately the lights of the boats and those of the ship. all at once a curious noise assailed don's ear. "what's the matter, jem?" he whispered, in alarm. "matter?" said jem, greatly to his relief. "nothing, as i knows on." "but that noise you made?" "i didn't make no noise." "you did, just now." "why, i was a-larfin' quiet-like, so as to make no row." "oh!" "thinking about them firing a volley at us in the dark. wonder where the bullets went?" "don't talk, jem; they may hear us." "what! a whisper like that, my lad? not they. boats is a long way off, too, now." the excitement had kept off all sense of fear, and so far don had not seemed to realise the peril of their position in swimming through the darkness to land; for even if there had been a canoe coming to their help, the lowering of the boats seemed to have scared its occupants away, and though the sea was perfectly calm, save its soft, swelling pulsation, there were swift currents among the islands and points, which, though easily mastered by canoe or boat with stout rowers, would carry in an imperceptible manner a swimmer far from where he wished to go. but they swam steadily on for some time longer, jem being the first to break the silence. "say, mas' don," he whispered, "did you hear oars?" "no, jem." "i thought i did. i fancy one of the boats put off without a lanthorn. weren't there three?" "yes, i think so." "well, you can see two of 'em easy like." "yes, jem; i can see." "then there's another cruising about in the dark, so we must be careful." there was another interval of steady swimming, during which they seemed to get no nearer to the shore, and at last jem spoke again. "say, mas' don, don't you feel as if you'd like a cup o' tea?" "no." "i do. i'm as dry as sawdus'. s'pose we're nearly there, but i can't touch bottom. i tried just now." they swam on, with the lights of the boat farther off than ever, and the ship more distant still. "getting tired, jem?" "n-no. could go on for about another week. are you?" "my clothes seem so heavy. can you see the shore?" "i can see the beach right afore us, but can't tell how nigh it is. never mind about your clothes, my lad; but they're a great noosance at a time like this. take your strokes long, and slow as you can." "that's what i'm doing, jem, but--do you think it's much further?" "now, lookye here, mas' don; if ever there was a good-tempered chap it was--i mean is--jem wimble; but if you gets talking like that, you aggravates me to such a degree that i must speak." jem spoke angrily, and with unwonted excitement in his manner. "is it much furder, indeed? why, of course it arn't. swim steady, and wait." jem closed in as much as was possible after raising himself in the water, and scanning the distant shore; and as he did so a cold chill of dread--not on his own account--ran through him, for he felt that they were certainly no nearer shore than they were before. "throw your left shoulder a little more forward, mas' don," he said calmly; "there's a p'int runs out here, i think, as'll make the journey shorter." don obeyed in silence, and they swam on, with jem watchfully keeping his eyes upon his companion, who was now deeper in the water. "jem," said don, suddenly. "yes, mas' don. take it coolly, my lad. we're getting close there. oh, what a lie!" he added to himself, with a chill of misery unnerving him. "jem." "ay, ay, mas' don." "if you escape--" "if i escape!" whispered jem, angrily. "now, what's the use o' your talking like that? escape, indeed! why, i feel as if i could live in the water, if i had plenty to eat and drink." "listen to me," said don, hoarsely. "if you escape, tell my mother i always loved her, even when i was obstinate. tell her we didn't run away, and that--that i didn't take that money, jem. you'll tell her that?" "i won't tell her nor nobody else nothing of the sort," said jem. "i'm too busy swimming to think o' no messages, and so are you. steady-- steady. bit tired, lad?" "tired, jem? my arms feel like lead." "turn over and float a bit, dear lad, and rest yourself." "no," said don. "if i turn over i shall be too helpless to keep up, and i can't turn back.--jem, i'm beat out." "you're not!" cried jem, in so loud and angry a voice, that the occupants of the pursuing boats must have heard them if they had been near. "you've got to keep on swimming steady, as i tells you, and if you says another word to me 'bout being beat, i'll give you such a shove aside o' the head as'll duck you under." don made no answer, but swam on feebly, with the water rising over his lips at every stroke; and as jem swam by him he could hear the lad's breath come quickly, and with a hoarse, panting sound. "and i can't leave him, even to; save myself," groaned jem. "oh, sally, sally, my gal, i did love you very true; and if i never see you again, good-bye--good-bye!" it seemed to poor jem wimble that his thoughts were so heavy that they sank him lower in the water; but he had a buoyant heart, which is the surest and best of life preservers; and taking a long breath, and setting his teeth, he swam on. "not so very far now, mas' don," he said. "you feel better now, don't you?" "jem." "yes, lad." "it's getting darker. i want to keep on, but i can't. can you shake hands?" "no!" cried jem, fiercely. "you turn over and float." don uttered a sigh, and obeyed in a feeble way, while jem ceased his striking out for shore, and placed one arm under don's neck. "it's all right, my lad. don't lose heart," he said. "it's wonderful easy to float; but you're tired. it's your clothes does it. you're a wonderful good swimmer, mas' don; but the wonderflest swimmers can't swim for ever in clothes. that's resting you, arn't it? i'm fresh as a lark, i am. so 'll you be dreckly, lad. keep cool. just paddle your hands a bit. we're close in shore, only it's so dark. we've done 'em. boats is right away." "are they--are they right away, jem?" "yes, my lad, thank goodness!" don groaned. "don't do that, my lad. you do make me savage when you won't be plucky. why, you can swim miles yet, and you shall, as soon as you're rested. i say, how savage the capen will be when he finds he can't ketch us!" "jem, my lad," said don, quietly; "don't talk to me as if i were a child. it's very good of you, and--kind--but--but i'm done, jem--i'm done." "you're not!" cried jem, savagely. "say that again, and i'll hit you in the mouth. you arn't done, and it's the way with you. you're the obsnittest chap as ever was. you've got to swim ashore as soon as you're rested, and i say you shall." don made no reply, but he floated with his nostrils clear of the water, and smiled as he gazed straight up in the dark sky. "there. it was time i spoke," continued jem. "some chaps loses heart about nothing." "nothing, jem?" "well, next to nothing, my lad. why, mussy me! what a fuss we are making about a few hundred yards o' smooth water. i've swum twice as far as this. rested?" don made no reply. "ah, you will be soon. it's the clothes, my lad. now look here, mas' don. you take my advice. never you try a long swim again like this with your clothes on. they makes a wonderful deal of difference." "jem," said don, interrupting him. "ay, ay, my lad." "are the boats very far away?" "well, a tidy bit; say half-mile." "then swim ashore and leave me; save yourself." "oh, that's it, is it?" "and tell my mother--" "now, look here," cried jem. "i should look well going and telling your mother as i left you in the lurch; and my sally would spit at me, and serve me right. no, mas' don, i've tried it easy with you, and i've tried it hard; and now i says this: if you've made up your mind to go down, why, let's shake hands, and go down together, like mates." "no, no; you must swim ashore." "without you?" "jem, i can do no more." "if i leaves you, mas' don--ahoy! boat!--boat!" jem meant that for a sturdy hail; but it was half choked, for just at that moment don made a desperate effort to turn and swim, lost his remaining nerve, and began to beat the water like a dog. "mas' don, mas' don, one more try, dear lad, one more try!" cried jem, passionately; but the appeal was vain. he, with all his sturdy manhood, strength hardened by his life of moving heavy weights, was beaten in the almost herculean task, and he knew at heart that don had struggled bravely to the very last, before he had given in. but even then don responded to jem's appeal, and ceased paddling, to make three or four steady strokes. "that's it! brave heart! well done, mas' don. we shall manage it yet. a long, steady stroke--that's it. don't give up. you can do it; and when you're tired, i'll help you. well done--well done. hah!" jem uttered a hoarse cry, and then his voice rose in a wild appeal for help, not for self, but for his brave young companion. "boat! boat!" he cried, as he heard don, deaf to his entreaties, begin the wild paddling action again; and he passed his arm beneath his neck, to try and support him. but there was no reply to his wild hail. the boats were out of hearing, and the next minute the strangling water was bubbling about his lips, choking him as he breathed it in; and with the name of his wife on his lips, poor jem caught don in a firm grip with one hand, as he struck wildly out with the other. four or five steady strokes, and then his arm seemed to lose its power, and his strokes were feeble. "mas' don," he groaned; "i did try hard; but it's all over. i'm dead beat, too." chapter twenty eight. friendly attentions. a peculiar pale light played and flashed from the surface of the black water which was being churned up by the desperate struggles of the drowning pair. it was as if myriads of tiny stars started into being where all was dark before, and went hurrying here and there, some to the surface, others deep down into the transparent purity of the sea. a minute before jem wimble had kept command of himself, and swam as a carefully tutored man keeps himself afloat; that minute passed, all teaching was forgotten in a weak, frantic struggle with the strangling water which closed over their heads. a few moments, during which the phosphorescent tiny creatures played here and there, and then once more the two helpless and nearly exhausted fugitives were beating the surface, which flashed and sent forth lambent rays of light. but it was not there alone that the phosphorescence of the sea was visible. about a hundred yards away there was what seemed to be a double line of pale gold liquid fire changing into bluish green, and between the lines of light something whose blackness was greater than the darkness of the sea or night. there was a dull low splashing, and at every splash the liquid fire seemed to fly. the double line of fire lengthened and sparkled, till it was as so much greenish golden foam reaching more and more toward where the drowning pair were struggling. then came a low, growling, grinding sound, as if the long lines of light were made by the beating fins of the dark object, which was some habitant of the deep roused from slumbers by the light of the golden foam formed by those who drowned. and it rushed on and on to seize its prey, invisible before, but now plainly seen by the struggles and the resulting phosphorescent light. long, low, and with its head raised high out of the water, horrent, grotesque and strange, the great sea monster glided along over the smooth sea. full five-and-twenty fins aside made the water flash as it came on, and there was, as it were, a thin new-moon-like curve of light at its breast, while from its tail the sparkling phosphorescence spread widely as it was left behind. the low grumbling sound came again, but it was not heard by those drowning, nor was the light seen as it glided on nearer and nearer, till it reached the spot. one dart from the long raised neck, one snap of the fierce jaws--another dart and another snap, and the sea monster had its prey, and glided rapidly on, probably in search of more in its nightly hunt. nothing of the kind! the long creature endued with life darted on, but the long neck and horned head were not darted down, but guided past those who where drowning. everything was stiff and rigid but the playing fins. but there was another dull, low grunt, the fins seemed to cease by magic; and, instead of being snapped up by the monster's mouth, the two sufferers were drawn in over its side. then the water flashed golden again, the monster made a curve and rushed through the water, and sped away for miles till, in obedience to another grunting sound, it turned and dashed straight for a sandy beach, resolving itself into a long new zealand war canoe, into which don and jem had been drawn, to lie half insensible till the beach was neared when jem slowly and wonderingly sat up. "where's mas' don?" he said in a sharp ill-used tone. "here he is," said a gruff voice, and jem looked wonderingly in a savage's indistinctly seen face, and then down in the bottom of the long canoe, into which they had been dragged. "mas' don--don't say you're drowned, mas' don," he said pitifully, with a somersetshire man's bold attempt at the making of an irish bull. "my pakeha! my pakeha!" said a deep voice; and jem became aware of the fact that the big chief he had so often seen on board the ship, and who had come to them with the present of fruit when they were guarding the boat, was kneeling down and gently rubbing don. "is he dead?" said jem in a whisper. "no, not this time," said the gruff voice out of the darkness. "pretty nigh touch, though, for both of you. why didn't you hail sooner?" "hail sooner?" said jem. "yes. we came in the canoe to fetch you, but you didn't hail, and it was too dark to see." "we couldn't hail," said jem, sulkily. "it would have brought the boats down upon us." "ah, so it would," said the owner of the gruff voice. "there's three boats out after you." "and shall you give us up?" "give you up? not i. i've nothing to do with it; you must talk to him." "my pakeha!" cried the big chief excitedly. "that isn't his name, is it?" said jem. "no. nonsense! pakeha means white man. i was a pakeha once." "let me help him up," said jem eagerly. "my pakeha! my pakeha!" said the chief, as if putting in a personal claim, and ready to resist jem's interference. the difficulty was ended by don giving himself a shake, and slowly rising. "jem! where's jem?" "here! all right, mas' don. we're in the canoe." "hah!" ejaculated don; and he shuddered as if chilled. "where are the boats?" "miles away," said the tattooed englishman. "but look here, i'm only on board. this is ngati's doing. i know nothing about you two." "my pakeha! my pakeha!" cried the chief. "lookye here," cried jem, speaking in the irritable fashion of those just rescued from drowning; "if that there chief keeps on saying, `_my pakeha_' at me in that there aggravating way, i shall hit him in the mouth." "ah! you're rusty," said the tattooed englishman. "man always is when he's been under water." "i dunno what you mean by being rusty," said jem snappishly. "what i say is, leave a man alone." "all right!" said the englishman. "i'll let you alone. how's your young mate?" "my head aches dreadfully," said don; "and there's a horrible pain at the back of my neck." "oh, that'll soon go off, my lad. and now what are you going to do?" "do?" interrupted jem. "why, you don't mean to give us up, do you?" "i don't mean to do anything or know anything," said the man. "your skipper'll come to me to-morrow if he don't think you're drowned, or--i say, did you feel anything of 'em?" "feel anything--of what?" said don. "sharks, my lad. the shallow waters here swarm with them." "sharks!" cried don and jem in a breath. "yes. didn't you know?" "i'd forgotten all about the sharks, jem," said don. "so had i, my lad, or i dursen't have swum for it as we did. of course i thought about 'em at first starting, but i forgot all about 'em afterwards." "jem," said don, shuddering; "what an escape!" "well, don't get making a fuss about it now it's all over, mas' don. here we are safe, but i must say you're the wussest swimmer i ever met.--here, what are they going to do?" "run ashore," said the englishman, as there was a buzz of excitement among the new zealanders, many of whom stepped over into the shallow water, and seized the sides of the boat, which was rapidly run up the dark shore, where, amidst a low gobbling noise, the two wet passengers were landed to stand shivering with cold. "there you are," said the englishman, "safe and sound." "well, who said we weren't?" grumbled jem. "not you, squire," continued the englishman. "there; i don't know anything about you, and you'd better lie close till the ship's gone, for they may come after you." "where shall we hide?" said don eagerly. "oh, you leave it to ngati; he'll find you a place where you can lie snug." "ngati," said the owner of the name quickly, for he had been listening intently, and trying to grasp what was said. "ngati! my pakeha." "oh, i say: do leave off," cried jem testily. "pakeha again. say, mas' don, him and i's going to have a row before we've done." the chief said something quickly to the englishman, who nodded and then turned to the fugitives. "ngati says he will take you where you can dry yourselves, and put on warm things." "he won't be up to any games, will he?" said jem. "no, no; you may trust him. you can't do better than go with him till the search is over." the englishman turned to a tall young savage, and said some words to him, with the result that the young man placed himself behind don, and began to carefully obliterate the footprints left by the fugitives upon the sand. don noticed this and wondered, for in the darkness the footprints were hardly perceptible; but he appreciated the act, though he felt no one but a native would distinguish between the footprints of the two people. "my pakeha," said ngati just then, making jem wince and utter an angry gesticulation. "gunpowder, gun, pow-gun, gun-pow." "eh?" said jem harshly. "my pakeha, powder-gun. pow-gun, gun-pow. no?" "he says his pakeha was to have brought plenty of guns and powder, and he has not brought any." "no," said don, shivering as he spoke. "the guns are the king's. i could not bring any." the new zealand chief seemed to comprehend a good deal of his meaning, and nodded his head several times. then making a sign to a couple of followers, each took one of don's arms, and they hurried him off at a sharp run, jem being seized in the same way and borne forward, followed by the rest of the men who were in the boat. "here, i say. look here," jem kept protesting, "i arn't a cask o' sugar or a bar'l o' 'bacco. let a man walk, can't yer? hi! mas' don, they're carrying on strange games here. how are you getting on?" don heard the question, but he was too breathless to speak, and had hard work to keep his feet, leaving everything to the guidance of his companions, who kept on for above a quarter of a mile before stopping in a shadowy gully, where the spreading ferns made the place seem black as night, and a peculiar steaming sulphurous odour arose. but a short time before don's teeth were chattering with the cold, but the exercise circulated his blood; and now, as his eyes grew more used to the obscurity, he managed to see that they were in a rough hut-like place open at the front. the sulphurous odour was quite strong, the steam felt hot and oppressive, and yet pleasant after the long chilling effect of the water, and he listened to a peculiar gurgling, bubbling noise, which was accompanied now and then by a faint pop. he had hardly realised this when he felt that his clothes were being stripped from him, and for a moment he felt disposed to resist; but he was breathless and wearied out, and rough as was the attention, it struck him that it was only preparatory to giving him a dry blanket to wear till his drenched garments were dry, and hence he suffered patiently. but that was not all, for, as the last garment was stripped off, ngati said some words to his people, and before he could realise what was going to be done, don felt himself seized by four men, each taking a wrist or ankle, and holding him suspended before ngati, who went behind him and supported his head. "hah!" ejaculated ngati, with a peculiar grunt. his men all acted with military precision, and, to don's astonishment, he found himself plunged into a rocky basin of hot water. his first idea was to struggle, but there was no need. he had been lowered in rapidly but gently, and he felt ngati place the back of his head softly against a smooth pleasantly-warm hollowed-out stone, while the sensation, after all he had gone through, was so delicious that he uttered a sigh of satisfaction. for now he realised the hospitality of the people who had brought him there, and the fact that to recover him from the chill of being half drowned, they had brought him to one of their hot springs, used by them as baths. don uttered another sigh of satisfaction, and as he lay back covered to his chin in the hot volcanic water, he began to laugh so heartily that the tears came into his eyes. for the same process was going on in the darkness with jem, who was a less tractable patient, especially as he had taken it into his thick head that it was not for his benefit that he was to be plunged into a hot water pool, but to make soup for the new zealanders around. "mas' don!" he cried out of the darkness, "where are you? i want to get out of this. here, be quiet, will yer? what yer doing of? i say. don't. here, what are you going to do?" don wanted to say a word to calm jem's alarms, but after the agony he had gone through, it seemed to him as if his nerves were relaxed beyond control, and his companion's perplexity presented itself to him in so comical a light, that he could do nothing but lie back there in his delicious bath, and laugh hysterically; and all the while he could hear the new zealanders gobbling angrily in reply to jem's objections, as a fierce struggle went on. "that's your game, is it? i wouldn't ha' thought it of a set who calls theirselves men. shove me into that hot pot, and boil me, would you? not if i knows it, you don't. hi! mas' don! look out! run, my lad. they're trying to cook me alive, the brutes. oh, if i only had a cutlash, or an iron bar." don tried to speak again, but the words were suffocated by the gurgle of laughter. "poor old jem!" he thought. "i tell you, you sha'n't. six to one, eh? leave off. mas' don, they're going to scald me like a pig in a tub. hi! help!" there was the sound of a struggle, a loud splash, and then silence, followed by jem's voice. "oh!" he ejaculated. "then why didn't you say so? how was i to know you meant a hot bath? well, it arn't bad.--mas' don!" "yes." "what! ha' you been there all the time?" "yes." "what yer been doing of?" "laughing." "larfin'? are they giving you a hot bath?" "yes." "arn't it good?" "glorious!" "i thought they was going to scald me like a pig, so as to eat me afterwards. did you hear me holler?" "hear you? yes.--how delicious and restful it feels." "ah, it do, my lad; but don't you let any on it get into your mouth. i did, and arn't good. but i say; what's it mean? seems so rum to me coming to meet us in a canoe and bringing us ashore, and giving us hot baths. i don't seem to understand it. nobody does such things over at home." as they lay in the roughly-made stone slab baths, into which the volcanic water effervesced and gurgled, the followers of ngati came and went busily, and a curious transformation came over the scene--the darkness seemed to undergo a change and become grey. then as don watched, he saw that above his head quite a cloud of steam was floating, through which a pale, sad light began to penetrate; and as he watched this, so pleasant and restful was the sensation that he felt as if he could sleep, till he took into consideration the fact that if he did, his body would become relaxed, and he would slip down with his head beneath the surface. as it grew lighter rapidly now, he could make out that the roughly thatched roof was merely stretched over a rough rocky nook in which the hot spring bubbled out of the mountain slope, and here a few rough slabs had been laid together, box-fashion, to retain the water and form the bath. before he had more than realised the fact that jem was in a shelter very similar to his own, the huge new zealander was back with about a dozen of his men, and himself bearing a great native flax cloth marked with a broad pattern. just as the sun had transformed everything without, and don was gazing on a glorious prospect of lace-like tree-fern rising out of the steaming gully in which he stood, jem wimble came stalking out of the shelter where he had been dressing--a very simple operation, for it had consisted in draping himself in a great unbleached cloth--and looking squat and comical as a man in his circumstances could look. ngati was close at hand with his men all standing in a group, and at first sight it seemed as if they were laughing at the little, stoutly-built, pink-faced man, but, on the contrary, they were smiles of admiration. "i couldn't ha' believed it, mas' don," said jem; "i feel as fresh as a daisy, and--well, i never did! mas' don, what a guy you do look!" don, after a momentary thought that he looked something like one of the old romans in a toga, just as he had seen them in an engraving, had been so taken up with the beauty of the ferny gully, with the sun gilding here and there the steamy vapour which rose from the hot springs, that he had thought no more of his personal appearance till jem spoke. "guy?" he said, laughing, as he ran his eye over jem. "i say, did you ever hear the story of the pot and the kettle?" "yes, of course; but i say, my lad, i don't look so rum as you, do i?" "i suppose you look just about the same, jem." "then the sooner they gets our clothes dry and we're into 'em again, the sooner we shall look like human beings. say, mas' don, it's werry awkward; you can't say anything to that big savage without him shouting `pakeha.' how shall we ask for our clothes?" "wait," said don. "we've got to think about getting further away." "think they'll send to look for us, mas' don?" "i should say they would." "well, somehow," said jem, "i seem to fancy they'll think we're drowned, and never send at all. but, look here; what's all this yaller stuff?" "sulphur." "what, brimstone? why, so it is. think o' their buying brimstone to lay down about their hot baths. i know!" cried jem, slapping his thigh, "they uses it instead of coal, mas' don; burns it to make the water hot." "no, no, jem; that's natural sulphur." "so's all sulphur nat'ral." "but i mean this is where it is found, or comes." "g'long with you." "it is, jem; and that water is naturally hot." "what, like it is at bath?" "to be sure." "well, that caps all. some one said so the other day aboard ship, but i didn't believe it. fancy a set o' savages having hot water all ready for them. i say, though, mas' don, it's very nice." just then ngati came up smiling, but as jem afterwards said, looking like a figure-head that was going to bite, and they were led off to a _whare_ and furnished with a good substantial meal. chapter twenty nine. an unwelcome recognition. "it arn't bad," said jem; "but it's puzzling." "what is?" said don, who was partaking of broiled fish with no little appetite. "why, how savages like these here should know all about cooking." the breakfast was eaten with an admiring circle of spectators at hand, while ngati kept on going from don to his tribesmen and back again, patting the lad's shoulder, and seeming to play the part of showman with no little satisfaction to himself, but with the effect of making jem wroth. "it's all very well, mas' don," he said, with his mouth full; "but if he comes and says `my pakeha' to me, i shall throw something at him." "oh, it's all kindly meant, jem." "oh, is it? i don't know so much about that. if it is, why don't they give us back our clothes? suppose any of our fellows was to see us like this?" "i hope none of our fellows will see us, jem." "tomati paroni! tomati paroni!" shouted several of the men in chorus. "hark at 'em!" cried jem scornfully. "what does that mean?" the explanation was given directly, for the tattooed englishmen came running up to the _whare_. "boats coming from the ship to search for you," he said quickly, and then turned to ngati and spoke a few words with the result that the chief rushed at the escaped pair, and signed to them to rise. "yes," said the englishman, "you had better go with him and hide for a bit. we'll let you know when they are gone." "tell them to give us our clothes," said jem sourly. "yes, of course. they would tell tales," said the englishman; and he turned again to ngati, who sent two men out of the _whare_ to return directly with the dried garments. ngati signed to them to follow, and he led them, by a faintly marked track, in and out among the trees and the cleared patches which formed the natives' gardens, and all the while carefully avoiding any openings through which the harbour could be seen. every now and then he turned to speak volubly, but though he interpolated a few english words, his meaning would have been incomprehensible but for his gestures and the warnings nature kept giving of danger. for every here and there, as they wound in and out among the trees, they came upon soft, boggy places, where the ground was hot; and as the pressure of the foot sent hissing forth a jet of steam, it was evident that a step to right or left of the narrow track meant being plunged into a pool of heated mud of unknown depth. in other places the hot mud bubbled up in rounded pools, spitting, hissing, and bursting with faint cracks that were terribly suggestive of danger. over these heated spots the fertility and growth of the plants was astounding. they seemed to be shooting up out of a natural hothouse, but where to attempt to pass them meant a terrible and instant death. "look out, mas' don! this here's what i once heard a clown say, `it's dangerous to be safe.' i say, figgerhead, arn't there no other way?" "ship! men! catchee, catchee," said ngati, in a whisper. "hear that, mas' don? any one'd think we was babbies. ketchy, ketchy, indeed! you ask him if there arn't no other way. i don't like walking in a place that's like so much hot soup." "be quiet, and follow. hist! hark!" don stopped short, for, from a distance, came a faint hail, followed by another nearer, which seemed to be in answer. "they're arter us, sir, and if we're to be ketched i don't mean to be ketched like this." "what are you going to do, jem?" "do?" said jem, unrolling his bundled-up clothes, and preparing to sit down, "make myself look like an ornery chrishtun." "don't sit down there, jem!" cried don, as ngati gave a warning cry at the same moment, and started back. but they were too late, for jem had chosen a delicately green mossy and ferny patch, and plumped himself down, to utter a cry of horror, and snatch at the extended hands. for the green ferny patch was a thin covering over a noisome hole full of black boiling mud, into which the poor fellow was settling as he was dragged out. "fah!" ejaculated jem, pinching his nose. "here, i've had 'most enough o' this place. nice sort o' spot this would be to turn a donkey out to graze. why, you wouldn't find nothing but the tips of his ears to-morrow morning." another hail rang out, and was answered in two places. "i say, mas' don, they're hunting for us, and we shall have to run." he made signs to the chief indicative of a desire to run, but ngati shook his head, and pointed onward. they followed on, listening to the shouts, which came nearer, till ngati suddenly took a sharp turn round a great buttress of lava, and entered a wild, narrow, forbidding-looking chasm, where on either side the black, jagged masses of rock were piled up several hundred feet, and made glorious by streams which coursed among the delicately green ferns. "look's damp," said jem, as ngati led them on for about fifty yards, and then began to climb, his companions following him, till he reached a shelf about a hundred feet up, and beckoned to them to come. "does he think this here's the rigging of a ship, and want us to set sail?" grumbled jem. "here, i say, what's the good of our coming there?" the chief stamped his foot, and made an imperious gesture, which brought them to his side. he pointed to a hole in the face of the precipice, and signed to them to go in. "men--boat," he said, pointing, and then clapping his hand to his ear as a distant hail came like a whisper up the gully, which was almost at right angles to the beach. "he wants us to hide here, jem," said don; and he went up to the entrance and looked in. a hot, steamy breath of air came like a puff into his face, and a strange low moaning noise fell upon his ear, followed by a faint whistle, that was strongly suggestive of some one being already in hiding. "i suppose that's where they keeps their coals, mas' don," said jem. "so we've got to hide in the coal-cellar. why not start off and run?" "we should be seen," said don anxiously. "don't let us do anything rash." "but p'r'aps it's rash to go in there, my lad. how do we know it isn't a trap, or that it's safe to go in?" "we must trust our hosts, jem," replied don. "they have behaved very well to us so far." there was another hail from the party ashore, and still jem hesitated. "i don't know but what we might walk straight away, mas' don," he said, glancing down at the garb he wore. "if any of our fellows saw us at a distance they'd say we was savages, and take no notice." "not of our white faces, jem? come, don't be obstinate; i'm going on." "oh, well, sir, if you go on, o' course i must follow, and look arter you; but i don't like it. the place looks treacherous. ugh! wurra! wurra! wurra!" that repeated word represents most nearly the shudder given by jem wimble as he followed don into the cave, the chief pointing for them to go farther in, and then dropping rapidly down from point to point till he was at the bottom, jem peering over the edge of the shelf, and watching him till he had disappeared. "arn't gone to tell them where we are, have he, mas' don?" "no, jem. how suspicious you are!" "ah, so'll you be when you get as old as i am," said jem, creeping back to where don was standing, looking inward. "well, what sort of a place is it, mas' don?" "i can't see in far, but the cavern seems to go right in, like a long crooked passage." "crooked enough, and long enough," grumbled jem. "hark!" don listened, and heard a faint hail. "they're coming along searching for us, i suppose." "i didn't mean that sound; i meant this. there, listen again." don took a step into the cave, but went no farther, for jem gripped his arm. "take care, my lad. 'tarn't safe. hear that noise?" "yes; it is like some animal breathing hard." "and we've got no pistols nor cutlashes. it's a lion, i know." "there are no lions here, jem." "arn't there? then it's a tiger. i know un. i've seen 'em. hark!" "but there are no tigers, nor any other fierce beasts here, jem." "now, how can you be so obstinate, mas' don, when you can hear 'em whistling, and sighing and breathing hard right in yonder. no, no, not a step farther do you go." "don't be so foolish, jem." "'tarn't foolish, mas' don; and look here: i'm going to take advantage of them being asleep to put on my proper costoom, and if you'll take my advice, you'll do just the same." don hesitated, but jem took advantage of a handy seat-like piece of rock, and altered his dress rapidly, an example that, after a moment or two of hesitation, don followed. "dry as a bone," said jem. "come, that's better. i feels like a human being now. just before i felt like a chap outside one of the shows at our fair." he doubled up the blanket he had been wearing, and threw it over his arm; while don folded his, and laid it down, so that he could peer over the edge of the shelf, and command the entrance to the ravine. but all was perfectly silent and deserted, and, after waiting some time, he rose, and went a little way inside the cavern. "don't! don't be so precious rash, mas' don," cried jem pettishly, as, urged on by his curiosity, don went slowly, step by step, toward what seemed to be a dark blue veil of mist, which shut off farther view into the cave. "i don't think there's anything to mind, or they wouldn't have told us to hide here." "but you don't know, my lad. there may be dangerous wild critters in there as you never heard tell on. graffems, and dragons, and beasts with stings in their tails--cockatoos." "nonsense! cockatrices," said don laughing. "well, it's all the same. now, do be advised, mas' don, and stop here." "but i want to know what it's like farther in." don went slowly forward into the dim mist, and jem followed, murmuring bitterly at his being so rash. "mind!" he cried suddenly, as a louder whistle than ordinary came from the depths of the cave, and the sound was so weird and strange that don stopped short. the noise was not repeated, but the peculiar hissing went on, and, as if from a great distance, there came gurglings and rushing sounds, as if from water. "i know we shall get in somewhere, and not get out again, mas' don. there now, hark at that!" "it's only hot water, the same as we heard gurgling in our bath," said don, still progressing. "well, suppose it is. the more reason for your not going. p'r'aps this is where it comes from first, and nice place it must be where all that water's made hot. let's go back, and wait close at the front." "no; let's go a little farther, jem." "why, i'm so hot now, my lad, i feel as if i was being steamed like a tater. here, let's get back, and--" "hist!" don caught his arm, for there was another whistle, and not from the depths of the dark steamy cave, but from outside, evidently below the mouth of the cave, as if some one was climbing up. the whistle was answered, and the two fugitives crept back a little more into the darkness. "ahoy! come up here, sir!" shouted a familiar voice, and a hail came back. "here's a hole in the rocks up here," came plainly now. "ramsden," whispered don in jem's ear. they stole back a little more into the gloom, jem offering no opposition now, for it seemed to them, so plainly could they see the bright greenish-hued daylight, and the configuration of the cavern's mouth, that so sure as any one climbed up to the shelf and looked in they would be seen. impressed by this, don whispered to jem to come farther in, and they were about to back farther, when there was a rustling sound, and the figure of a man appeared standing up perfectly black against the light; but though his features were not visible, they knew him by his configuration, and that their guess at the voice was right. "he sees us," thought don, and he stood as if turned to stone, one hand touching the warm rocky side of the cave, and the other resting upon jem's shoulder. the man was motionless as they, and his appearance exercised an effect upon them like fascination, as he stood peering forward, and seeming to fix them with his eyes, which had the stronger fancied effect upon them for not being seen. "wonder whether it would kill a man to hit him straight in the chest, and drive him off that rock down into the gully below," said jem to himself. "i should like to do it." then he shrank back as if he had been struck, for the sinister scoundrel shouted loudly,-- "ahoy there! now, then out you come. i can see you hiding." chapter thirty. a determined enemy. don drew a long breath and took a step forward to march out and give himself up, but jem's hands clasped him round, a pair of lips were placed to his ear, and the yard-man's voice whispered,-- "stand fast. all sham. he can't see." don paused, wondering, and watched the dark figure in the entrance to the cave, without dismay now, till, to his surprise, the man began to whistle softly. "likely place too," he muttered. "are you coming up here, sir?" "what is it?" "likely looking cave, sir; runs right in; looks as if they might be hiding in here." there was a rattling and rustling of stones and growth, and then the man at the entrance stooped down and held out his hands to assist some one to ascend, the result being that the broad heavy figure of bosun jones came into view. "not likely to be here, my lad, even if they were in hiding; but this is a wild goose chase. they're dead as dead." "p'r'aps so, sir; but i think they're in hiding somewhere. praps here." "humph! no. poor fellows, they were drowned." "no, sir, i don't think it," said ramsden. "those niggers looked as if they knew something, and that tattooed fellow who has run away from norfolk island has encouraged them to desert. as like as not they may be in here listening to all i say." "well then, go in and fetch them out," said the boatswain. "you can go in while i have a rest." don's heart beat fast at those words, for he heard a loud hissing sound beside him, caused by jem drawing in his breath; and the next moment, as he held his arm, he felt a thrill, for it seemed as if jem's muscles had tightened up suddenly. then there was a hot breath upon his cheek, and a tickling sensation in his ear beyond; jem's lips seemed to settle themselves against it, and the tickling sensation was renewed, as jem whispered,-- "i've cleared my decks for action, mas' don. it was that beggar as told on us. you stand aside when he comes on." don twisted his head round, caught jem by the shoulder, and favoured him with the same buzzing sensation as he whispered,-- "what are you going to do?" jem re-applied his lips to don's ear. "i'm going to make him very sorry he ever come to sea. once i gets hold of him i'll make him feel like a walnut in a door." "don't look a very cheerful place, mr jones," came from the mouth of the cavern. "afraid to go in?" "afraid, sir? you never knew me afraid." "well, in you go and fetch them out," said the boatswain with a laugh. "if you don't come back i shall know that the maoris have got you, and are saving you for the pot." from where don and jem stood in the darkness they could see their spying sinister friend give quite a start; but he laughed off the impression the boatswain's words had made, and began to come cautiously on, feeling his way as a man does who has just left the bright sunshine to enter a dark place. jem uttered a loud hiss as he drew his breath, and ramsden heard it and stopped. "mr jones," he said sharply. "well?" "think there's any big snakes here? i heard a hiss." "only steam from a hot spring. no snakes in this country." "oh!" ejaculated ramsden: and he came cautiously on. don felt jem's arm begin to twitch, and discovery seemed imminent. for a few moments he was irresolute, but, knowing that if they were to escape they must remain unseen, he let his hand slide down to jem's wrist, caught it firmly, and began to back farther into the cave. for a few moments he had to drag hard at his companion but, as if yielding to silently communicated superior orders jem followed him slowly, step by step, with the greatest of caution, and in utter silence. the floor of the cave was wonderfully smooth, the rock feeling as if it had been worn by the constant passage over it of water, and using their bare feet as guides, and feeling with them every step, they backed in as fast as ramsden approached, being as it were between two dangers, that of recapture, and the hidden perils, whatever they might be, of the cave. it was nerve-stirring work, for all beyond was intense darkness, out of which, as they backed farther and farther in, came strange whisperings, guttural gurglings, which sounded to don as if the inhabitants of the place were retiring angrily before their disturbers, till, driven to bay in some corner, they turned and attacked. but still don held tightly by jem's wrist, and mastering his dread of the unknown, crept softly in, turning from time to time to watch ramsden, who came on as if some instinct told him that those he sought for were there. "found 'em?" shouted the boatswain; and his voice taught the hiding pair that the cave went far in beyond them, for the sound went muttering by, and seemed to die away as if far down a long passage. "not yet, but i think i can hear 'em," replied ramsden. "you can hear a self-satisfied fool talking," said the boatswain, ill-humouredly. "so can mr jones," muttered the man. "hear you. that's what i can hear." "what are you muttering about?" "i think i can hear 'em, sir. now then, you two, give up. it'll be the worse for you if you don't." don's hand tightened on his companion's wrist, and they stood fast, for ramsden was stopping in a bent attitude, listening. there was nothing to be heard but the whisperings and gurglings, and then they saw him draw his cutlass and come on. jem's muscles gave another jerk, but he suffered himself to be drawn farther and farther into the cave, till they must have been quite two hundred yards from the mouth; and now, for the first time, the almost straight line which it had formed, changed, and they lost sight of the entrance, but could see the shadow of their enemy cast upon the glistening wall of the place, down which the water seemed to drip, giving it the look of glass. all at once don, as he crept back, felt his left foot, instead of encountering the smooth rock floor, go down, and as he quickly withdrew it and felt nearer to him, it was to touch the edge of what seemed a great crack crossing the floor diagonally. as he paused, he felt that it might be a "fault" of a few inches in width or depth, or a vast chasm going right down into the bowels of the mountain! "there's a hole here," he whispered to jem. "hold my hand." jem gripped him firmly, and he reached out with one leg, and felt over the side outward and downward; and, just as he was coming to the conclusion that the place was terribly deep, and a shudder at the danger was running through him, he found that he could touch bottom. he was in the act of recovering himself, so as to try how wide the crack or fault might be, when a peculiar strangling sensation attacked him, and he felt that he was falling. the next thing he felt was jem's lips to his ear, and feeling his whisper,-- "hold on, lad. what's the matter?" he panted and drew his breath in a catching way for a few minutes before whispering back,-- "nothing. only a sudden giddiness." jem made no comment, but gripped his hand tightly, and they stood listening, for the shadow cast faintly on the walls was motionless, and it was evident that their enemy was listening. "i'm going on, ramsden," said the boatswain. "come along!" "all right, sir. join you as soon as i've got my prisoners." "hold 'em tight," shouted the boatswain, and then there was a loud rustling sound, followed by the words faintly heard, "look sharp. it's of no use fooling there." don could hear ramsden mutter something, but he did not seem to be coming on; and mastering the dull, sluggish feeling, accompanied by a throbbing headache, the lad stole cautiously back to where he could look round and see their approaching enemy between them and the light. to his intense surprise he found the man had his back to them, and was retiring; but as he watched, ramsden made an angry gesticulation, turned sharply and came on again, but seemed to catch his foot against a projecting piece of rock, stumble and fall forward, his cutlass flying two or three yards on before him with a loud jingling noise. what followed riveted don to the spot. chapter thirty one. good for evil. ramsden struggled to his feet as if with an effort, and stood holding his hand to his head, evidently hurt. the next moment he stepped forward, staggering slightly, stooped to pick up his cutlass, and fell forward, uttered a groan, rose up again, and fell down once more, this time to lie without motion. "jem," whispered don, "look at that!" "was looking," whispered back jem. "hit his head; sarve him right." ramsden did not move, and the two fugitives stood anxiously watching. "what shall we do?" "wait! he'll soon come round and go. may as well sit down." jem lowered himself to a sitting position, and was in the act of trying to rest on his elbow when he gasped quickly two or three times, and caught at don, who helped him to a kneeling position, from which he struggled up. "hah!" he ejaculated; "just as if some one caught me by the throat. oh, how poorly i do feel. just you put your head down there, mas' don." don stood thinking and trying to grasp what it meant. then, with some hazy recollection of dangers encountered in old wells, he bent down cautiously and started up again, for it gradually dawned upon both that for about two feet above the floor there was a heavy stratum of poisonous gas, so potent that it overcame them directly; and it was into this they had plunged as soon as they had stooped down. "why, jem," panted don; "it stops your breath!" "stops your breath? it's just as if a man got hold of you by the throat. why, if i'd stopped in that a minute i should never have got up again." "but--but, that man?" whispered don. "what, old ramsden? phew! i'd forgot all about him. he's quiet enough." "jem, he must be dying." "i won't say, `good job, too,' 'cause it wouldn't be nice," said jem, with a chuckle. "what shall us do?" "do?" cried don. "we must help him." "what, get him out? if we do, he'll be down on us." "we can't help that, jem. we must not leave a fellow-creature to die," replied don; and hurrying forward, he gave a glance toward the mouth of the cave, to satisfy himself that the good-natured boatswain was not there, and then, holding his breath, he stooped down and raised ramsden into a sitting posture, jem coming forward at once to help him. "goes ag'in the grain, mas' don," he muttered; "but i s'pose we must." "must? yes! now, what shall we do?" "dunno," said jem; "s'pose fresh air'd be best for him." "let's get him to the mouth, then," said don. "but the boatswain 'll see us, and we shall be took." "i can't help that, jem; the man will die here." "well, we don't want him. he's a hennymee." "jem!" "oh, all right, mas' don. i'll do as you say, but as i says, and i says it again, it goes ag'in the grain." they each took one hand and placed their arms beneath those of the prostrate man; and, little as they stooped, they inhaled sufficient of the powerful gas to make them wince and cough; but, rising upright, taking a full breath and starting off, they dragged ramsden backwards as rapidly as they could to where the fresh air blew into the mouth of the cave, and there they laid the man down. but before doing so, don went upon his knees, and placing his face close to the rocky floor, inhaled the air several times. "it seems all right here," he said. "try it, jem." "oh! i'll try it," said jem, grumpily; "only i don't see why we should take so much trouble about such a thing as this." "yes; it's all right," he said, after puffing and blowing down by the ground. "rum, arn't it, that the air should be bad yonder and not close in here!" "the cave goes downward," said don; "and the foul air lies in the bottom, just as it does in a well. do you think he's dead?" "him dead!" said jem, contemptuously; "i don't believe you could kill a thing like that. here, let's roll up one of these here blanket things and make him a pillow, and cover him up with the other, poor fellow, so as he may get better and go and tell 'em we're here." "don't talk like that, jem!" cried don. "why not? soon as he gets better he'll try and do us all the harm he can." "poor fellow! i'm afraid he's dead," whispered don. "then he won't want no more cutlashes and pistols," said jem, coolly appropriating the arms; "these here will be useful to us." "but they are the king's property, jem." "ah! well, i dessay if the king knew how bad we wanted 'em, he'd lend 'em to us. he shall have 'em again when we've done with them." as he spoke jem helped himself to the ammunition, and then stood looking on as don dragged ramsden's head round, so that the wind blew in his face. "how i should like to jump on him!" growled jem. "i hate him like poison, and i would if i'd got on a pair o' boots. shouldn't hurt him a bit like this." "don't talk nonsense, jem. mr jones might hear us. let's hail; he can't be very far off." "i say, mas' don, did our ugly swim last night send you half mad?" "mad? no!" "then, p'r'aps it's because you had no sleep. here's a chap comes hunting of us down with a cutlash, ready to do anything; and now he's floored and we're all right, you want to make a pet on him. why, it's my belief that if you met a tiger with the toothache you'd want to take out his tusk." "very likely, jem," said don, laughing. "ah, and as soon as you'd done it, `thankye, my lad,' says the tiger, `that tooth's been so bad that i haven't made a comf'table meal for days, so here goes.'" "and then he'd eat me, jem." "that's so, my lad." "ah, well, this isn't a tiger, jem." "why, he's wuss than a tiger, mas' don; because he do know better, and tigers don't." "ramsden, ahoy!" came from below them in the ravine. "oh, crumpets!" exclaimed jem. "now we're done for. all that long swim for nothing." "back into the cave," whispered don. "perhaps they have not seen us." he gave jem a thrust, they backed in a few yards, and then stood watching and listening. chapter thirty two. close shaving. "think he's insensible, or only shamming?" said jem. "insensible--quite! i'm afraid he's dead." "i arn't," muttered jem. "you might cut him up like a heel; legs and arms and body, and every bit of him would try and do you a mischief." "i'm afraid, though, that he knew we were in here, and that as soon as he comes to, he'll tell the others." "not he. it was only his gammon to frighten us into speaking if we were there." "ramsden, ahoy!" came again from below; and then from a distance came another hail, which the same voice answered--evidently from some distance below the mouth of the cave. "ramsden! here, my man; come along, they're not in there." "hear that, jem? mr jones." "oh yes, i hear," growled jem. "he don't know yet; but wait a bit till old ram tells him." "we couldn't slip out yet, jem?" "no; o' course not. they'd see us now. look!" jem was about to draw back, but feeling that a movement might betray them, don held him fast, and they stood there in the shadow of the cave, looking on, for the boatswain's head appeared as he drew himself up the precipitous place, and then stepped on the shelf. "here, come out, sir! are you asleep? hah!" he caught sight of the prostrate sailor, and bent down over him. "why, ramsden, man!" he cried, as he tore open his sailor's shirt and placed his hand upon his throat. then, starting up, he sent forth a tremendous hail. "ahoy!" "ahoy!" came back from several places, like the echoes of his call. "come on here! quick!" he shouted, with his hands to his mouth. "ahoy!" came from a distance; and from nearer at hand, "ay, ay, sir; ay, ay!" from where don and jem stood they could see the boatswain's every movement, as, after once more feeling the sailor's throat and wrist, he bent over him and poured water from his bottle between his lips, bathed his forehead and eyes, and then fanned him with his hat, but without effect. then he looked out anxiously and hailed again, the replies coming from close by; and soon after first one and then another sailor, whose faces were quite familiar, climbed up to the shelf, when the boatswain explained hastily how he had left his companion. "some one knocked him down?" said one of his men. "no; he's not hurt. i should say it's a fit. more water. don't be afraid!" each of the men who had climbed up carried a supply, and a quantity was dashed over ramsden's face with the effect that he began to display signs of returning consciousness, and at last sat up and stared. "what's matter, mate?" said one of the men, as don prepared to hurry back into the darkness, but longed to hear what ramsden would say. it was a painful moment, for upon his words seemed to depend their safety. "matter? i don't know--i--" he put his hand to his head. "here, take a drink o' this, mate," said one of the men, and ramsden swallowed some water with avidity. "arn't seen a ghost, have you?" "i recollect now, mr jones. you left me in that hole." "and called to you to come out." "yes, but--" don's heart beat furiously. they were discovered, and now the betrayal was to come. "well, what happened?" said the boatswain. "i felt sure that those two were in this place, and i went on farther into the darkness till i kicked against something and fell down." "out here and stunned yourself." "no, no; in there! i'd got up and picked up my cutlash, and then something seemed to choke me, and i went down again." jem squeezed don's arm, for they both felt more hopeful. "and then one of they chaps came and give you a crack on the head?" said a sailor. don's heart sank again. "nonsense!" said his old friend, the boatswain. "foul air. he must have staggered out and fallen down insensible." jem gripped don's arm with painful force here. "how do you feel? can you walk?" ramsden rose slowly, and staggered, but one of the men caught his arm. "i--i think i can." "well, we must get you down to the boat as soon as we can walk, if you are able. if you can't, we must carry you." "but them chaps," said one of the party, just as don and jem were beginning to breathe freely. "think they're in yonder, mate?" "i--i think so," said ramsden faintly. "you had better search." "what! a place full of foul air?" said the boatswain, greatly to don's relief. "absurd! if ramsden could not live in there, how could the escaped men? here, let's get him down." "ay, ay, sir. but i say, mate, where's your fighting tools? what yer done with them?" don made an angry gesticulation, and turned to jem, who had the pistols and cutlass in his hand and waistbelt, and felt as if he should like to hurl them away. "he must have dropped them inside. here, one of you come with me and get them." don shrank back into the stony passage as a man volunteered, but the boatswain hesitated. "no," he said, to don's great relief; "i can't afford to run risks for the sake of a pair of pistols." "let me go in," said the man. "i'm not going to send men where i'm afraid to go myself," said the boatswain bluntly. "come on down." the boatswain led the way, and ramsden was helped down, the man who had volunteered to go in the cavern to fetch the pistols manoeuvring so as to be last, and as soon as the party had disappeared over the shelf he gave a glance after them, and turned sharply. "foul air won't hurt me," he said; and he dived right in rapidly to regain the pistols and cutlass, so as to have the laugh of his messmates when they returned on board. chapter thirty three. another alarm. "it's all over," thought don, as the man came on, with discovery inevitable if he continued at his present rate. they were about fifty feet from the entrance, and they felt that if they moved they would be heard; and, as if urged by the same impulse, they stood fast, save that jem doubled his fist and drew back his arm ready to strike. all at once the man stopped short. "he sees us," said don, mentally. but he was wrong, for the sailor thrust his fingers into his mouth and gave a shrill whistle, which ran echoing through the place in a curiously hollow way. "that's a rum un," he said, with a laugh. "blow some o' the foul air out. wonder how far he went in?" he walked on slowly, and then stopped short as if he saw the hiding pair; but there was no gesture made, and of course his face was invisible to the fugitives, to whom he seemed to be nothing but a black figure. "plaguey dark!" ejaculated the man aloud. _hiss-s-s-s_! a tremendously loud sibillation came out of the darkness--such a noise as a mythical dragon might have made when a stranger had invaded his home. the effect was instantaneous. the young sailor spun round and darted back to the mouth of the cave, where he half lowered himself down over the shelf facing toward the entry, and supporting himself with one hand, shook his fist. "you wait till i come back with a lanthorn!" he cried. "i'll just show you. don't you think i'm scared." _whos-s-s-s-s_ came that hissing again, in a loud deep tone this time, and the sailor's head disappeared, for he dropped down and hastily descended after his messmates, flushed and excited, but trying hard to look perfectly unconcerned, and thoroughly determined to keep his own counsel as to what he had heard, from a perfect faith in the effect of the disclosure--to wit, that his companions would laugh at him. inside the cave jem was leaning up against the wall, making strange noises and lifting up first one foot and then the other. he seemed to be suffering agonies, for he puffed and gasped. "jem, be quiet!" whispered don, shaking him sharply. "oh, dear! oh, dear!" groaned jem, lifting up his bare feet alternately, and setting them down again with a loud pat on the rock. "be quiet! they may hear you." "hit me then! give it me. ho, ho, ho!" "jem, we are safe now, and you'll undo it all if you're not quiet." "knock me then, mas' don. oh, dear! oh, dear! hi: me; a good un, dear lad. ho, ho, ho, ho!" "oh, do be quiet! how can you be such an ass?" "i dunno! oh, dear! oh, dear! did you see him run, mas' don? i--oh dear, i can't help it. do knock me down and sit on me, dear lad--i never--oh dear me!" jem laughed till don grew angry, and then the sturdy little fellow stopped short and stood wiping his eyes with the back of his hands. "i couldn't help it, mas' don," he said. "i don't think i ever laughed so much before. there, i'm better now. shan't have any more laugh in me for a twelvemonth. hiss! whoss-s-s!" he made the two sounds again, and burst into another uncontrollable fit of laughter at the success of his ruse; but this time don caught him by the throat, and he stopped at once. "hah!" he ejaculated, and wiped his eyes again. "thankye, mas' don; that's just what you ought to ha' done before. there, it's all over now. what are you going to do?" "watch them," said don, laconically; and he crept to the mouth of the cave, and peered cautiously over the edge of the shelf, but all was quiet; and beyond a distant hail or two, heard after listening for some minutes, there was nothing to indicate that the search party had been there. "we must be well on the look-out, jem. your stupid trick may bring them back." "stoopid? well, i do like that, mas' don, after saving us both as i did." "i'd say let's go on at once, only we might meet some of them." "and old `my pakeha' wouldn't know where to find us. i say, mas' don, what are we going to do? stop here with these people, and old tomati, or go on at once and shift for ourselves?" "we cannot shift for ourselves in a country like this without some way of getting food." "hush!" exclaimed jem sharply. "what's the matter?" cried don, making for the inner part of their hiding-place. "no, no; don't do that. it's all right, mas' don, only don't say anything more about food. i feel just now as if i could eat you. it's horrid how hungry i am." "you see then," said don, "how helpless we are." "yes; if it was only a biscuit i wouldn't mind just now, for there don't seem to be nothing to eat here, nor nothing to drink." they stood leaning against the rocky wall, not caring to risk sitting down on account of the foul air, and not daring to go to the mouth of the cave for fear of being seen, till don suggested that they should steal there cautiously, and lie down with their faces beyond the cavern floor. this they did, glad of the restful change; but hours passed and no sounds met their ears, save the hissing and gurgling from the interior of the cave, and the harsh screech of some parrot or cockatoo. every time a louder hiss than usual came from the interior, jem became convulsed, and threatened another explosion of laughter, in spite of don's severely reproachful looks; but in every case jem's mirthful looks and his comic ways of trying to suppress his hilarity proved to be too much for don, who was fain to join in, and they both laughed heartily and well. it is a curious fact, one perhaps which doctors can explain, and it seems paradoxical. for it might be supposed that when any one was hungry he would feel low-spirited, but all the same there is a stage in hunger when everything around the sufferer seems to wear a comic aspect, and the least thing sets him off laughing. this was the stage now with jem and don, for, the danger being past, they lay there at the mouth of the hole, now laughing at the recollection of the sailor's fright, now at the cries of some parrot or the antics of a cockatoo which kept sailing round a large tree, whose hold on the steep rocky side of the ravine was precarious in the extreme. the presence of white people seemed to cause the bird the greatest of wonder, and to pique his curiosity, and after a flit here and a flit there, he invariably came near and sat upon a bare branch, from which he could study the aspect of the two intruders. he was a lovely-looking bird as far as the tints of the plumage went; but his short hooked beak, with a tuft of feathers each side, and forward curved crest, gave him a droll aspect which delighted jem, as the bird came and sat upon a twig, shrieking and chattering at them in a state of the greatest excitement. "look at his starshers, mas' don," said jem, as the bird's side tufts half covered the beak and then left it bare. "look at his hair, too. hasn't he brushed it up in a point? there, he heared what i said, and has laid it down again. look at him! look at him! did you ever see such a rum one in your life?" for at that minute, after turning its head on one side for a good look, and then on the other, so as to inspect, them again, the bird seemed to have an idea that it might gain a little more knowledge from a fresh point of view, and to effect this turned itself completely upside down, hanging by its soft yoke toes, and playing what jem called a game of _peep-to_! this lasted for some minutes, and then the bird squatted upon the bough in a normal position, set up its feathers all over, and began to chatter. "hark at him, mas' don. he's calling names. there, hit me if he didn't. did you hear him?" "i heard him chatter." "yes; but i mean calling us that `my pakeha--my pakeha!' that he did." "nonsense!" "ah, you may say nonsense, but parrots and cockatoos is werry strange birds. wonderful what they knows and what they says." "i don't believe they know what they say, jem." "ah! that's because you're so young, mas' don. you'll know better some day. parrots is as cunning as cunning. well, now, did you ever see the likes of that? he's laughing and jeering at us." for at that moment the bird began to bob its head up and down rapidly, gradually growing more excited, and chattering all the while, as it ended by dancing first on one leg and then on the other, in the most eccentric fashion. "i should like to have that bird, jem," said don at last. "should you? then you wouldn't have me along with you." "i don't like him. i like a bird as can behave itself and whistle and sing and perch; but i don't like one as goes through all them monkey tricks. wish i'd got a stone, i'd try and knock him off his perch." _chur-r-r-r_! shrieked the bird, and it let itself fall over backwards, dropping down head over heels like a tumbler pigeon, or an unfortunate which had been shot, and disappearing among the leaves far below. "there!" cried jem, triumphantly; "now, what do you say to that? heard what i said, he did, and thought i was going to throw." "nonsense, jem!" "ah! you may call it nonsense, mas' don, because you don't know better, but you didn't see him fall." "yes, i saw him fall, and--hist! creep back; there's some one coming!" the secret of the bird's sudden disappearance was explained for there was a rustling among the ferns far behind, as if some large body was forcing its way along the ravine; and as jem backed slowly into the cavern, don cautiously peered from behind a mass of stone into the hollow, to see that some one or something was approaching rapidly, as if with the intention of scaling the rock, and climbing to where they lay. chapter thirty four. among friends again. "it's all over with us, mas' don," whispered jem, as soon as they were some little distance in the retreat. "that blackguard ramsden's sure, after all, that we're in here, and that tom hoppers has come to his senses, and felt it was me as hissed at him, and they're coming to hunt us out." "let's hope not, jem." "yah! what's the good o' hoping." _churr-urrt_ shrieked the cockatoo from far below. "there now," said jem. "hark at that! he's telling 'em we're in here, and coming on before to show 'em the way." "what nonsense, jem!" _churr-ur_! shrieked the cockatoo, ever so much nearer. "well, do you call that nonsense?" whispered jem. "the bird's being cheered on; some one coming." _churr_--_churr_--_churr-ur-ur_! shrieked the cockatoo nearer, nearer, and then right in front of the cave, as it flew by. "all right, mas' don; i arn't going to hargue. you think your way, and i'll think mine; but if that wasn't saying in new zealandee as those two misfortunate chaps is hiding in this here hole, i never lived in bristol city, and i don't know sugar from tobacker." "hist!" whispered don. _hiss-s-s-s_ came from far in the depths of the cave. _gurgle-urgle-gugg-pap_! went something of a liquid kind. "here, i can't stand this here, mas' don," whispered jem; "let's make a rush of it; and get right away in the woods." "hush! there's some one coming," whispered don, drawing his companion farther back into the darkness. "all right, mas' don! take me in again where the bad air is; poison us both. good-bye, sally, my gal. it's all over now; but i forgives you. shake hands, mas' don. i don't bear you no ill-will, nor nobody else. here they come." there was a rustling and panting noise, and they were on the tip-toe of expectation, when there was a heavy concussion, a deep-toned roar, and then an echoing rumble as the sound reverberated among the mountains. then utter silence. jem gripped don's arm with force, and stared at him wildly. "well!" whispered don. "it was only a gun from the ship to recall the boats." jem stooped down and gave his leg a slap. "you are a clever one, mas' don, and no mistake. why, o' course it is. i never thought it was that." "what did you think it was, then?" "some o' them hot water-works gone off, _bang_! and blown up the mountain.--there!" he pointed to a hideous-looking head appearing above the edge of the shelf, and seen by the evening light as it fell athwart it, the countenance with its blue lines and scrolls ending in curls on either side of the nose was startling enough to make any one fear danger. the owner of the face climbed up to the shelf, followed by another bronzed figure, when don recognised the second as the tattooed englishman, while there was no mistake about the first, for he made jem give an angry grunt as a human voice shouted,-- "my pakeha." "somebody calling you, mas' don?" "my pakeha!" shouted the new zealander again. "jemmeree wimbee." "eh! here, i say, call a fellow by his right name!" cried jem, stepping forward. the chief met him with advancing step, and caught him by the shoulders, and before jem could realise what he was going to do, placed his blue nose against that which was coppery white, and gave it a peculiar rub. "here, i say, don't!" cried jem, struggling to free himself, when the chief seized don in turn, and bent down and served him the same. "don't you stand it, mas' don. hit out." "don't you, youngster," said the englishman. "it's only his friendly way." "yes, that's what they say at home when a big dog goes at you, and nearly rolls you over," grumbled jem. "i say, have you got anything to eat?" "not here, but plenty at ngati's place. i'm glad to see you both safe, my lads. it gave me quite a turn when he told me he'd hidden you in here." "why?" said don sharply. "well, i'll tell you, my lad. there's a kind o' bad steam lies along the bottom farther in, and if a man was to lie down on the floor and go to sleep, i don't s'pose he'd ever wake again. come along!" "where are the men from the ship?" "gone off with their mates. didn't you hear the gun?" don nodded. "they've been searching all over for you. can't make out whether you two got to shore, or were chopped up by the sharks out yonder. they won't come again till to-morrow, and you'll be safe till then. you must be hungry." "hungry?" said jem, with a mocking laugh. "hungry? lookye here: you'd better take me where there's something, or it won't be safe. i heard tell as people ate one another out here, and i didn't believe it, but i do now. i'm ready for anything or anybody; so come along." ngati took possession of don, and led the way, evidently very proud of his young companion; whilst jem followed with the englishman down the gully slope, and then in and out among the trees, ferns, and bushes, till the dangerous hot and mud springs were passed, and the _whare_ was reached. then the weary fugitives were seated before what seemed to them a banquet of well-cooked fish, fruits, and roots, with a kind of hasty pudding preparation, which was far from bad. "feel better, now?" said the englishman, after he had sat and smoked till they had done. "better? yes, i'm better," said jem; "but i should like to know one thing." "well, what is it?" "will they go on feeding us like this?" "yes; and if they don't, i will." "but--it don't--it don't mean any games, does it?" said jem, in a doubting tone. "you mean making game of you?" said the englishman with a broad grin. "yes, hare or fezzun," said jem. the englishman laughed, and turned to don. "i'll see if you can't have a better hiding-place to-night. that was very dangerous, and i may as well tell you to mind where you go about here, for more than one poor fellow has been smothered in the hot mud holes, and scalded to death." "is the water so hot as that?" said don. "hot? why, those vegetables and things you ate were cooked in one of the boiling springs." "phew!" whistled jem. they sat talking in the moonlight afterwards, listening to the tattooed englishman, who spoke about what he had heard from the ship's crew. among other things the news that they might sail at any time. don started, and the tattooed englishman noticed it. "yes," he said; "that means going away and leaving you two behind. you don't seemed pleased." don looked up at him earnestly. "no," he said; "i didn't at first. don't think me ungrateful after what you've done." "i don't, my lad," said the man, kindly; "i know what you feel. it's like being shut away from every one you know; and you feel as if you were going to be a savage, and never see england again. i felt something like that once; but i didn't come out like you did. ah, well, that's neither here nor there. you're only a boy yet, with plenty o' time before you. make yourself as happy as you can; these chaps are not so very bad when they don't want to get fighting, and i daresay you and me will be good enough friends. eh? hullo! what's the matter?" he leaped to his feet, and don, jem, and the new zealand savages about them did the same, for half-a-dozen of ngati's followers came running up with news, which they communicated with plenty of gesticulations. "what are they a-saying on, mas' don? i wish i could speak new zealandee." "two boats' crews are coming ashore from the ship. i wish you two was brown and tattooed." jem glanced wildly at don. "come on," said the englishman. "i must see if i can't hide you before they come. what?" this last was to a fresh man, who ran up and said something. "quick, my lads," said the englishman. "your people are close at hand." chapter thirty five. left behind. tomati hurried out, followed by don, but the latter was thrust back into the hut directly, tomati stretching out his arms so as to spread his blanket wide to act as a screen, under cover of which don and jem were half pushed, half backed into the large gathering hut of the tribe, ngati giving some orders quickly, the result of which was that don and jem were hustled down into a sitting position and then thrown upon their faces. "here, i'm not going to--" "hush, jem. you'll be heard," whispered don. "yes, but--lookye here." there was no time to say more. the first lieutenant of the ship, with a middy, bosun jones, and about twenty men came marching up, to find a group of ngati's men seated in a close circle, their blankets spread about them and their heads bent forward, grunting together, and not so much as looking round. the men were halted, and the lieutenant addressed the tattooed englishman. "well!" he said; "where are our two men?" "ask the sharks," said the renegade, shortly. "humph! yes. i suppose we shall have to. poor wretches! the captain thought we'd have a last look round. but mind this, if they turn up here, you and your men will detain them till we come back. i shall hold you responsible." the englishman grunted after the fashion of one of the savages. "i suppose you don't want to come home, eh?" "no; i'm comfortable enough here as an emigrant." "an emigrant, eh? look here, master tomati, if i did my duty, i suppose i should take you aboard, and hand you over to the authorities." "what for?" said the englishman, surlily. "escaping from norfolk island. that's right, isn't it?" "look here!" said the englishman; "do you know, sir, that this is one of the worst parts of the coast, and that the people here think nothing of attacking boats' crews and plundering them, and making them prisoners, and often enough killing and eating 'em?" "threatening, eh?" said the lieutenant. "not i. but i'm a chief, and the people here would do everything i told them, and fight for me to a man." "then you are threatening." "no, sir; i only wanted to remind you that your boats' crews have come and gone in peace; that you have been allowed to go about ashore, and been supplied with fruit and vegetables, and never a thing missed." "that's true enough," said the lieutenant. "well, what of that? a king's ship well-armed would keep a larger tribe than yours quiet!" "oh! oh!" came from the group of natives. "yes, i repeat it," said the lieutenant sharply. "they can understand english, then?" "of course they do," said the tattooed man calmly, though he looked uneasily at the group; "and as to your ship, sir, what's the good of that if we were to fight you ashore?" "do you want to fight, then?" said the lieutenant sharply. "it doesn't seem like it, when i've kept my tribe peaceful toward all your crew, and made them trade honestly." "out of respect to our guns." "can you bring your guns along the valleys and up into the mountains?" "no; but we can bring plenty of well-drilled fighting men." "oh! oh!" came in quite a long-drawn groan. "yes," said the lieutenant looking toward the group, "well-drilled, well-armed righting men, who would drive your people like leaves before the wind. but i don't want to quarrel. i am right, though; you are an escaped convict from norfolk island?" "yes, i am," said the man boldly; "but i've given up civilisation, and i'm a maori now, and the english government had better leave me alone." "well, i've no orders to take you." "oh! oh!" came again from the group: and tomati turned sharply round, and said a few words indignantly in the maori tongue, whose result was a huddling closer together of the men in the group and utter silence. "they'll be quiet now," said tomati. "they understand an english word now and then." "well, i've no more to say, only this--if those two men do come ashore, or you find that they have come ashore, you've got to seize them and make them prisoners. make slaves of them if you like till we come again, and then you can give them up and receive a good reward." "i shall never get any reward," said tomati, grimly. "poor lads! no," said the boatswain; "i'm afraid not." just then there was a sharp movement among the maoris, who set up a loud grunting noise, which drew the attention of the lieutenant, and made the men laugh. "it's only their way," said the englishman gruffly. "ah, a queer lot. better come back to civilisation, my man," said the lieutenant. "at norfolk island, sir?" "humph!" muttered the lieutenant; and facing his men round, he marched them back to the boats, after which they spent about four hours making soundings, and then returned to the ship. almost before the sailors were out of hearing, there was a scuffle and agitation in the group, and jem struggled from among the maoris, his face hot and nearly purple, don's not being very much better. "i won't stand it. nearly smothered. i won't have it," cried jem furiously. "don't be so foolish, jem. it was to save us," said don, trying to pacify him. "save us! well they might ha' saved us gently. look at me. i'm nearly flat." "nonsense! i found it unpleasant; but they hid us, and we're all right." "but i arn't all right, mas' don; i feel like a pancake," cried jem, rubbing and patting himself as if he were so much paste or clay which he wanted to get back into shape. "don't be so stupid, jem!" "stoopid? 'nough to make any man feel stoopid. i was 'most stuffocated." "so was i." "yes, but you hadn't got that big, `my pakeha' chap sitting on you all the time." "no, jem, i hadn't," said don, laughing. "well, i had, and he weighs 'bout as much as a sugar-hogshead at home, and that arn't light." "but it was to hide us, jem." "hide us, indeed! bother me if it didn't seem as if they was all hens wanting to sit on one egg, and that egg was me. i know i shall never get right again." "oh yes, you will," laughed don. "ah, it's all werry well for you to laugh, mas' don; but if my ribs hadn't been made o' the best o' bone, they'd ha' cracked like carrots, and where should i ha' been then?" "hurt, mate?" said tomati, coming up and laughing at jem, who was rubbing himself angrily. "just you go and be sat upon all that time, and see if you won't feel hurt," grumbled jem. "why, it hurts your feelings as much as it does your body." "ah, well, never mind. you're quite safe now." tomati walked away to speak to one of his men. "quite safe now, he says, mas' don. well, i don't feel it. hear what he said to the fust lufftenant; this was the worst part of the coast, and the people were ready to rob and murder and eat you?" "i didn't hear all that, jem," said don quietly. "i heard him say that they were a warlike, fighting people; but that doesn't matter if they are kind to us." "but that's what i'm feared on," said jem, giving himself a jerk. "afraid of them being kind?" "ay, feared of them liking us too well. pot." "pot?" "yes, pot. don't you understand?" "no." "pot. p--o--t, pot." "well, of course, i know that; but what does it mean?" "why, they've sat upon you, mas' don, till your head won't work; that's what's the matter with you, my lad. i mean treat us as if we was chyce fat sheep." "nonsense, jem!" "oh, is it? well, you'll see." "i hope not," said don, laughing. "ah, you may laugh, my lad, but you won't grin that day when it comes to the worst." news was brought in soon after of the boats being busy taking soundings, and that night don and jem sat screened by the ferns high up on the mountain side, and saw the sloop of war with her sails set, and looking golden in the setting sun, gliding slowly away toward the north-east, careening slightly over before a brisk breeze, which grew stronger as they reached out farther beyond the shelter of the land; and in spite of hints from tomati, and calls from ngati, neither could be coaxed down till, just as it was growing dusk, don rose and turned to his companion. "have we done right, jem?" "what, in getting away from being slaves aboard ship? why, o' course." don shook his head. "i don't know," he said, sadly. "we are here right away on the other side of the world amongst savages, and i see no chance of getting away back home." "oh, but we arn't tried yet, my lad." "no, we haven't tried, jem." "my pakeha! my pakeha!" came from below. "there he goes again!" growled jem. "do tell tomati to ask him to call you something else. i know i shall get in a row if you don't." "you must not get into any quarrel, jem," said don, thoughtfully; "for we ought to keep the best of friends with these people. ahoy!" an answering cry came back, and they began to descend with the darkness coming on and a strange depression of spirit troubling don, as he felt more and more as if for the first time in their lives he and jem wimble were thoroughly alone in the world. chapter thirty six. something to do. "'tarn't so bad, mas' don," said jem, about a month later. "never felt so clean before in my life. them hot baths is lovely, and if we could get some tea and coffee, and a bit o' new bread and fresh butter now and then, and i could get my sally out here, i don't know as i should much mind stopping." "and what about the pot, jem?" "tchah! that was all gammon. i don't b'lieve they ever did anything o' the sort. when's tomati coming back? tomati, jemmaree, donni-donni. pretty sort of a language. why, any one could talk new zealandee." "i wish i could, jem." "well, so you could if you tried. all you've got to do is to riddle-me-ree the words a bit. i'm getting on first rate; and what i like in these people is that they never laughs at you when you makes a mistake." they had been furnished with a snug hut, close to one of the roughly-made hot water baths, and were fairly well supplied with food, which they augmented by going out in ngati's canoe, and catching abundance of fish, to the maori's great delight; for he gazed with admiration at the skilful methods adopted by jem, who was no mean angler. "and the best of the fun is, mas' don, that the fishes out here are so stupid. they take any bait a'most, and taken altogether they're not such bad eating. wonder what shark would be like?" don shuddered, and they both decided that they would not care to try. ngati of the fiercely savage face and huge size proved to be one of the most amiable of men, and was after them every morning, to go out in the forest collecting fruit, or to dam up some stream to catch the fresh-water fish, or to snare birds. "he do cap me," jem would say. "just look at him, mas' don. that there chap's six foot four at least, half as broad again across the chest as i am, and he's got arms like a helephant, while to look at him with his blue face you'd say he was 'bout the fiercest-looking fighting man you ever see; and yet, when you come to know him inside, he's just like a big boy, and so good-tempered i could do anything with him." "and only the other day you looked upon him as quite an enemy." "ay, i did, mas' don, but i don't now. them there artful birds is my mortal enemies. they parrots and cockatoos is cunning and wicked enough, but them little birds is imps, that's what they are." jem shook his head and frowned, and no more was said then, for they were packing up a basket, and going up into the mountains to get fruit, taking provisions enough to last them for the day. their hut was right in the middle of the little village, and the maoris treated them in the most friendly manner, smiling at them in an indolent fashion as they lolled about the place, doing very little except a little gardening; for their wants were few, and nature was kind in the abundance she gave for a little toil. this life soon had its effects upon jem, who began to display a disposition to idle too. "seems so nat'ral, mas' don," he would say. "i don't see why a man should be always letting sugar-hogsheads down out of waggons, and rolling 'em about and getting them into warehouses. why can't we take it coolly, same as they do?" "because we don't want to stand still, jem," said don quietly. "you and i are not savages." "well, no, mas' don, that's true; but it's very pleasant to take it as coolly as they do. why, these chaps, the whole lot of 'em, live just as if it was always holidays, and a hot water bath thrown in." "uncle josiah used to say that people soon got tired of having holidays." "your uncle josiah soon got tired o' giving holidays, mas' don. i never, as you know, wanted many, but he always looked rat-traps at me if i asked for a day. here you can have as many as you like." "well, let's take one to-day, jem," said don. "fill another basket with something to eat, take a couple of bags, and we'll go right away into the forest, and bring back as much fruit as we can." "i'll be all ready in no time," said jem, cheerily; and at the end of three minutes he was equipped, and they started off together, to find ngati half lying on the sands in company with about a dozen more of his tribe, all of whom gave the pair a friendly smile and a wondering look at the trouble they seemed to take to obtain fruit, when some of the women or girls could have done the task just as well. "they are about the idlest set of chaps i ever did see, mas' don," said jem, as they trudged cautiously along through the ferny woodlands, where traces of volcanic action were wonderfully plentiful. "but they work when there's any need for it, i daresay," said don. "see how vigorously they can row, and how energetic they are when they go through the war-dance." "oh! any stoopid could jump about and make faces," replied jem. "i wonder whether they really could fight if there was a row?" "they look as if they could, jem." "looks arn't much good in fighting, mas' don. well, anyhow, they're big and strong enough. look! what a pity we haven't got a gun. might have shot a pig and had some pork." he pointed to about half-a-dozen good-sized pigs, which had scurried across the path they followed, and then disappeared among the ferns. "rum thing, it always seems to me that there's nothing here except pigs. there must be, farther in the woods. mind that hole, my lad." don carefully avoided stepping into a bubbling patch of hot mud right in their path, and, wondering what would be the consequences of a step in, he went on, in and out, among dangerous water holes and mud springs. cockatoos whistled overhead, and parrots shrieked, while every now and then they came upon a curious-looking bird, whose covering resembled hair more than feathers, as it cocked its curved bill towards them, and then hurriedly disappeared by diving in amongst the dense low growth. "look at that!" said jem. "ostrich?" "ostrich!" cried don contemptuously. "why, an ostrich is eight feet high." "not when he's young," said jem. "that's a little one. shouldn't wonder if there's some more." "you may be right, jem, but i don't think there are ostriches here." "well, i like that," said jem, "when we've just seen one. i knew it directly. there used to be a picture of one in my old reading-book when i was at school." they trudged on for some distance in silence. "what yer thinking 'bout, mas' don?" "home," said don, quietly. "oh! i say, don't think about home, mas' don, because if you do, i shall too; it do make me so unked." "i can't help it, jem. it doesn't seem natural to settle down here, and go on week after week. i get asking myself, what we are doing it for." "to catch fish, and find fruit and keep ourselves alive. say, mas' don, it's under them trees they digs up the big lumps of gum that they burn. ah, there's a bit." jem stooped and picked out from among the rotten pine needles a piece of pale yellowish-looking gum of the size of his fist. "that'll do for a light for us," don said. "take it back." "going to," said jem laconically. "we may want it 'fore long." "here's another bit," said don, finding a similar sized piece, and thrusting it into the basket. "couldn't we make some matches, jem?" "couldn't we make some matches? why, of course we could. there's plenty of brimstone, i'm going to try and manage a tinder-box after a time." they again walked on in silence, climbing higher and higher, till, coming to an opening, they both paused in silent admiration of the view spread out before them, of river, lake, and mountain, whose top glistened like silver, where glacier and snow lay unmelted in spite of the summer heat. "wouldn't you like to go up there, mas' don?" said jem, after a few moments' silence. "go? i'd give anything to climb up there, jem. what a view it must be." "ah, it must, mas' don; but we won't try it to-day; and now, as we've been on the tramp a good two hours, i vote we sit down and have a bit of a peck." don agreed, and they sat down at the edge of the wood to partake of the rather scanty fare which they spread on the ground between them. "yes, it would be fine," said jem, with his mouth and hands full. "we ought to go up that mountain some day. i've never been up a mountain. hi! wos!" this was shouted at another of the peculiar-looking little birds which ran swiftly out of the undergrowth, gave each in turn a comical look, and then seized a good-sized piece of their provender and ran off. "well, i call that sarce," said jem; "that's what i calls that. ah, if i'd had a stone i'd soon have made him drop that." "now," said don laughing, "do you call that an ostrich?" "to be sure i do!" cried jem. "that proves it. i've read in a book as ostriches do steal and swallow anything--nails, pocket-knives, and bits o' stone. well! i never did!" jem snatched off his cap and sent it spinning after another rail which had run up and seized a fruit from their basket, and skimmed off with its legs forming a misty appearance like the spokes of a rapidly turning wheel. "sarce is nothing to it, mas' don. why, that little beggar's ten times worse than the old magpie we used to have in the yard. they're so quick, too. now, just look at that." either the same or another of the little birds came out of the undergrowth, peering about in the most eccentric manner, and without displaying the least alarm. "just look at him, jem." "look at him, mas' don? i am a-looking at him with all my eyes. he's a beauty, he is. why, if i was a bird like that with such a shabby, dingy looking, sooty suit o' clothes, i know what i'd do." "what would you do?" "why, i'd moult at once. look at the rum little beggar. arn't he comic? why, he arn't got no wings and no tail. hi! cocky, how did you get your beak bent that way? look as if you'd had it caught in a gate. have another?" jem took up a large raspberry-like fruit that he had picked some time before, and held it out to the bird, which stopped short, and held its head down comically, looking first at jem, and then at the berry. with a rapid twist it turned its head on the other side, and performed the same operation with the left eye. "well, he is a rum un!" cried jem, laughing. "look! mas' don, look!" don was watching the eccentric-looking little creature, which ran forward rapidly, and then paused. "why, 'tarn't a wild bird at all!" cried jem. "it's one of the `my pakeha' chap's cocks an' hens. well, i ham blessed!" for rapid almost as thought, and before jem could recover from his surprise, the bird had darted forward, seized the fruit, and was off a dozen yards before he had darted out his hand after it. "too late, jem." "yes, mas' don, too late that time; but i mean to ketch that chap, just to show him he arn't so clever as he thinks. you sit still, and go on eating, and don't take no notice, and look out--look out." "oh!" ejaculated don. for at that moment one of the birds had come up behind him, and almost before he had heard jem's warning cry, he was made aware of the bird's presence by a sharp dig of its beak in the hand holding a portion of his dinner, which was carried rapidly away. "magpies is nothing to 'em," cried jem. "but wait a bit, my fine fellows, and you shall see what you shall see. pass that there basket, mas' don. ah! that's a good bait for my gentleman. look at 'em. i can see three peeping out of the bushes. they're a-watching to see what i'm going to do." "three! i can see four, jem." "more for me to ketch, mas' don. wonder whether they're good to eat? i say, do you think they can understand english?" don laughed, and went on with his dinner, as jem began to play fox, by putting a tempting-looking berry in his hand, stretching it out to the full extent of his arm, and then lying back among the ferns. "now then, don't take no notice, mas' don. let you an' me keep on feeding, and that'll 'tract 'em out." don was already quietly "feeding," and he rested his back against a piece of stone, watching intently all the while. two of the birds began to approach directly, while the others looked on as if deeply interested. the approach of the advance force was particularly curious, for they came on picking here and picking there, as if they had not the slightest intention of going near the fruit in jem's hand; but in spite of several feints of going right away, always getting nearer, while jem munched away, using his left hand, and keeping his eyes half shut. they had not long to wait, for one of the birds manoeuvred until it was a few feet away, then made a rush, caught the berry from jem's hand, which closed with a snap, the second bird made a dart and caught the berry from the first bird's beak, and jem sat up holding a few feathers, staring after the birds, one of which cried out in a shrill piping tone. "yes, i'll give you pepper next time, my fine fellow!" cried jem. "nearly had you. my word, mas' don, they are quick. give's another berry." jem baited his natural trap again, and went on with his meal; but he had scared away the birds for the time being, and they came no more. "the worst of eating, jem, is that it makes you lazy." "and not want to move, mas' don. yes, it do. but it's my 'pinion as this was meant for a lazy country, else the water wouldn't be always on the bile, ready for use." "think that's fire?" said don, after a dreamy pause, during which he had lain back gazing at the brilliant silver-tipped mountain, above which floated a cloud. "no," said jem. "i should say as there's a big hot water place up yonder, and that there's steam. yes, one do feel lazy here; but it don't matter, mas' don; there's no bosun, and no master and lufftenant and captain to order you about. i rather likes it, only i seem to want my sally here. wonder what she'd say to it?" "we must get away from it, jem." "but we arn't got no boat, and it takes pretty nigh a hunderd men to row one of them canoes." "we must make a long journey through the country, jem, right beyond those mountains, and sooner or later we shall come to a place where there are englishmen, who will help us to get a passage in a ship." jem shook his head. "i don't believe there's any englishmen here, mas' don." "i do. i think i've read that there are; and if we do not find any, we shall have seen the place, and can come back here." "he talks just like as if he was going for a ride to exeter by the bristol waggon! ah, well, just as you like, mas' don, only don't let's go this afternoon, it's all too nice and comfortable. i don't want to move. say, wonder whether there's any fish in that lake?" "sure to be, jem, and hundreds of wonders to see if we journey on." "dessay, my lad, dessay; but it's werry wonderful here. look along that hollow place where the big fir trees is growing." "lovely, jem. what a beautiful home it would make." "say, mas' don, let's make our fortunes." "how?" "let's set up in trade, and deal in wood. lookye yonder, there's fir trees there, that if we cut 'em down and trimmed 'em, they'd be worth no end o' money in bristol, for ships' masts." "yes, jem," said don drily; "and how are you going to get them there?" "ah!" said jem, scratching his head. "never thought of that." there was half an hour's drowsy silence. the sun shone down with glorious power, and the lizards rustled among the large stones. from the forest behind there came the buzz of insects, and the occasional cry of some parrot. save for these sounds all was wonderfully still. and they sat there gazing before them at the hundreds of acres of uncultivated land, rich in its wild beauty, unwilling to move, till don said suddenly,-- "yes, jem; this is a lazy land. let's be up and doing." "yes, mas' don. what?" "i don't know, jem; something useful." "but there arn't nothing useful to do. i couldn't make a boat, but i think i could make a hogshead after a fashion; but if i did, there arn't no sugar to put in it, and--" "look, jem!" "what at, mas' don? eh?" he continued as he followed his companion's pointing hand. "why, i thought you said there was no beasts here." "and there are none." "well, if that arn't a drove o' cattle coming down that mountain side, i'm a dutchman." "it does look like it, jem," said don. "it seems strange." "look like it, mas' don? why, it is. brown cattle, and you can see if you look at the sun shining on their horns." "horns! jem!" cried don, excitedly; "they're spears!" "what?" "and those are savages." "so they are!" cried jem. "why, mas' don, that there don't mean a fight, do it?" "i don't know, jem. but they can't see us, can they?" "no. these here bushes shades us. let's creep back through the wood, and go and tell 'em down below. they don't know, p'r'aps, and we may get there first." "we must," said don quickly. "jem, i'm sure of it. you can see the spears quite plainly, and perhaps it's a war-party out from some other tribe. quick, lad, quick! we can get there first." "and if it's a false alarm, they'll laugh at us, mas' don." "let them. they won't laugh if there's danger in the way." don caught up the basket and backed into the shelter of the trees, keeping in a stooping position, while jem followed, and now, with all the sensation of indolence gone, they hurried along the rugged and dangerous path, to spread the alarm in the village far below, where they had left the inmates dreaming away their existence in happy ignorance of the danger so close at hand. chapter thirty seven. a perilous descent. the heat was terrible, and it seemed to don as if the difficulties met with in their outward journey had been intensified on their return. thorns caught in their garments, and, failing these, in their flesh. twice over jem stepped a little too much off the faint track, and had narrow escapes of plunging into pools of hot mud, whose presence was marked by films of strange green vegetation. then they mistook their way, and after struggling along some distance they came out suddenly on a portion of the mountain side, where to continue their course meant that they must clamber up, descend a sheer precipice of at least a hundred feet by hanging on to the vine-like growths and ferns, or return. they stopped and stared at each other in dismay. "know where we went wrong, mas' don?" said jem. "no; do you?" "not i, my lad. think it must ha' been where i had that last slip into the black hasty pudding." "what shall we do, jem? if we go back we shall lose an hour." "yes! quite that; and 'tarn't no good to climb up here. i could do it; but it's waste o' time." "could we get down here?" "oh, yes," said jem drily; "we could get down easy enough; only the thing is, how should we be when we did get down?" "you mean we should fall to the bottom?" "well, you see, mas' don," said jem, rubbing one ear as he peered down; "it wouldn't be a clean fall, 'cause we should scrittle and scruttle from bush to bush, and ketch here and snatch there. we should go right down to the bottom, sure enough, but we might be broke by the time we got there." "jem, jem, don't talk like that!" cried don angrily. "do you think it possible to go down?" "well, mas' don, i think the best way down would be with our old crane and the windlass tackle." "do you dare climb down?" "ye-es, i think so, mas' don; only arn't there no other way?" "not if we want to save them down at the village." "well, but do we want to save 'em, mas' don? they're all werry well, but--" "and have been very kind to us, jem. we must warn them of danger." "but, lookye here, mas' don, s'pose it arn't danger. pretty pair o' bristol noodles we shall look, lying down at the bottom here, with all our legs and arms broke for nothing at all." don stood gazing at his companion, full of perplexity. "think it is real danger, mas' don?" "i'm afraid so. you heard tomati say that there were desperate fights sometimes." "don't call him tomati; i 'ates it," growled jem. "well, i s'pose it is danger, then." "and we must look the matter in the face, jem. if we go back those people will be at the village before us. perhaps we shall meet them, and be made prisoners; but if we go on here, we shall save an hour, perhaps two. yes, i shall climb down." "no, no; let me go first, mas' don." "why?" "because i shall do to tumble on if you do let go, or any bush breaks." "here seems to be about the best place, jem," said don, without heeding his companion's last remark; and, setting his teeth, he lowered himself down, holding on by the bushes and aerial roots of the various tough, stunted pieces of vegetation, which clung to the decomposing volcanic rock. jem's face puckered up as he set his teeth, and watched don descend a few feet. then, stooping over, he said cheerily,-- "that's the way, mas' don; take it cool, stick tight, and never think about the bottom. are you getting on all right?" "yes." "that's your sort. i'm coming now." jem began to whistle as he lowered himself over the edge of the precipice, a few feet to don's right; and directly after he began to sing merrily,-- "`there was a man in bristol city, fol de rol de riddle-lol-de-ri. and that's the first o' this here ditty, fol de rol de-riddle-lol-de-ri.' "say, mas' don, 'tarn't so bad, after all." "it's terrible, jem!" panted don, "can we do it?" "can we do it? ha, ha, ha!" cried jem. "can we do it? hark at him! we're just the boys as can do it. why, it arn't half so bad as being up on the main-top gallant yard. "`fol de rol de-riddle-lol-de-ri.'" "don't make that noise, jem, pray." "why not, my lad? that's your sort; try all the roots before you trust 'em. i'm getting on splen--" _rush_! "jem!" "all right, mas' don! only slipped ten foot of an easy bit to save tumbles." "it isn't true. i was looking at you, and i saw that root you were holding come out of the rock." "did you, mas' don? oh, i thought i did that o' purpose," came from below. "where are you?" "sitting straddling on a big bit o' bush." "where? i can't see you." "here, all right. 'tarn't ten foot, it's about five and twenty-- "`de-riddle-lol-de-ri.'" "jem, we must climb back. it is too risky." "no, we mustn't, mas' don; and it arn't a bit too risky. come along, and i'll wait for you." don hesitated for a minute, and then continued his descent, which seemed to grow more perilous each moment. "say, mas' don," cried jem cheerily, "what a chance for them birds. couldn't they dig their bills into us now!" "don't talk so, jem. i can't answer you." "must talk, my lad. them fern things is as rotten as mud. don't you hold on by them. steady! steady!" "yes. slipped a little." "well, then, don't slip a little. what's your hands for? "`there was a man in bristol city, fol de rol de--'" "say, mas' don, think there's any monkeys here?" "no, no." "'cause how one o' they would scramble down this precipit. rather pricky, arn't it?" "yes; don't talk so." "all right! "`de-riddle-liddle-lol.' "i'm getting on first rate now, mas' don--i say." "yes!" "no press-gang waiting for us down at the bottom here, mas' don?" "can you manage it, jem?" "can i manage it? why, in course i can. how are you getting on?" don did not reply, but drew a long breath, as he slowly descended the perilous natural ladder, which seemed interminable. they were now going down pretty close together, and nearly on a level, presence and example giving to each nerve and endurance to perform the task. "steady, dear lad, steady!" cried jem suddenly, as there was a sharp crack and a slip. "piece i was resting on gave way," said don hoarsely, as he hung at the full length of his arms, vainly trying to get a resting-place for his feet. jem grasped the position in an instant, but remained perfectly cool. "don't kick, mas' don." "but i can't hang here long, jem." "nobody wants you to, my lad. wait a minute, and i'll be under you, and set you right. "`there was a man in bristol city,'" he sang cheerily, as he struggled sidewise. "`fol de--' i say, mas' don, he was a clever one, but i believe this here would ha' bothered him. it's hold on by your eyelids one minute, and wish you was a fly next." "jem." "hullo, lad?" "if i let go and dropped, how far should i fall?" "'bout two foot ten," said jem, after a glance below them at the sheer precipice. "then i had better drop." "if you do you will knock me to the bottom, so just you hold on till i tells you." jem kept up his jocular way of speaking; but if any one could have looked on, he would have seen that his face was curiously mottled with sallow, while his hands were trembling when at liberty, and that there was a curiously wild, set look in his eyes. "there, mas' don," he said cheerily, as he finished climbing sidewise till he was exactly beneath. "now, one moment. that's it." as he spoke he drew himself up a little, taking fast hold of the stem of a bush, and of a projecting stone, while he found foot-hold in a wide crevice. "now then, rest your foot on my shoulders. there you are. that's the way. two heads is better than one." "can you bear my weight, jem?" "can i bear your weight? why? you may stand there for a week. now just you rest your wristies a bit, and then go on climbing down, just as if i warn't here." the minute before don had felt that he could bear the strain no longer. now the despairing sensation which came over him had gone, his heart felt lighter as he stood on jem's shoulders, and sought another hold for his hands lower down. the wild, fluttering pulsation ceased, and he grew composed. "i'm rested now, jem," said don. "of course you are, my lad. well, then, now you can climb down aside me. 'tarn't so much farther to the bottom." "can you reach out far enough for me to come between you and the rock?" "just you try, mas' don." by this time don had found a fresh hold for his feet; and nerving himself, he descended slowly, jem forcing himself out, so that there was enough room for any one to pass; but as don cleared him, and got right below, the bush to which jem clung with one hand came slowly out of the interstices of the stones, and but for the exercise of a large amount of muscular power and rigidity of will, he would have swung round and fallen headlong. "i'm all right now, jem!" cried don from below. "glad of it, my lad," muttered jem, "because i arn't." "come along down now." "how, mas' don?" said jem grimly. "the same way as i did." "oh! all right; but the bush i held on by is gone." "well take hold of another." "just you get from under me, mas' don." "why? what do you mean?" "i'm too heavy to ketch like a cricket ball. that's all, my lad." "oh, jem, don't say you are in danger." "not i, my lad, if you don't want me to; but it is awk'ard. stand clear," he shouted. "i'm coming down. no, i arn't," he said directly after, as he made a tremendous effort to reach a tough stem below, failed, and then dropped and caught it, and swung first by one hand and then by two. "i say, mas' don, i thought i was gone." "you made my heart seem to jump into my mouth." "did i, lad? well, it was awk'ard. i was scared lest i should knock you off. felt just as i did when the chain broke, and you could see the link opening, and a big sugar-hogshead threatening to come down. all right now, my lad. let's get on down. think we're birds' nesting, mas' don, and it'll be all right." don had to nerve himself once more, and they steadily lowered themselves from tuft to tuft, and from stone to stone, with more confidence, till they were about thirty feet from the foot, when farther progress became impossible, for, in place of being perpendicular, the cliff face sloped inward for some distance before becoming perpendicular once more. "well, i do call that stoopid," said jem, as he stared helplessly at don. "what are we going to do now?" "i don't know, jem. if we had a bit of rope we could easily descend." "and if we'd got wings, mas' don, we might fly." "we must climb back, jem, as--look here, would these trees bear us?" "not likely," said jem, staring hard at a couple of young kauri pines, which grew up at the foot of the precipice, and whose fine pointed tops were within a few feet of where they clung. "but if we could reach them and get fast hold, they would bend and let us down." "they'd let us down," said jem drily; "but i don't know 'bout bending." don clung to the face of the rock, hesitating, and wondering whether by any possibility they could get down another way, and finding that it was absolutely hopeless, he made up his mind to act. "it is next to impossible to climb up, jem," he said. "yes, mas' don." "and we can't get down." "no, mas' don. we shall have to live here for a bit, only i don't know how we're going to eat and sleep." "jem." "yes, mas' don." "i'm going to jump into that tree." "no, mas' don, you mustn't risk it." "and if it breaks--" "never mind about the tree breaking. what i don't like is, s'pose you break." "i shall go first, and you can try afterwards." "no, no, mas' don; let me try first." don paid no heed to his words, but turned himself completely round, so that he held on, with his back to the stony wall, and his heels upon a couple of rough projections, in so perilous a position that jem looked on aghast, afraid now to speak. in front of don, about nine feet away, and the top level with his feet, was the tree of which he had spoken. as far as support was concerned, it was about as reasonable to trust to a tall fishing-rod; but it appeared to be the only chance, and don hesitated no longer than was necessary to calculate his chances. "don't do it, mas' don. it's impossible, and like chucking yourself away. let's climb up again; it's the only chance; and if we can't get to the village in time, why, it arn't our fault. no, my lad, don't!" as the last words left his lips, don stood perfectly upright, balancing himself for a few moments, and then, almost as if he were going to dive into the water, he extended his hands and sprang outward into space. jem wimble uttered a low groan. chapter thirty eight. don's report. in the case of a leap like that made by don, there was no suspense for the looker on, for the whole affair seemed to be momentary. jem saw him pass through the air and disappear in the mass of greenery with a loud rushing sound, which continued for a few moments, and then all was still. "he's killed; he's killed!" groaned jem to himself; "and my sally will say it was all my fault." he listened eagerly. "mas' don!" he shouted. "hullo, jem! i say, would you drop if you were me?" "drop? then you arn't killed?" "no, not yet. would you drop?" "i don't know what you mean." "i'm hanging on to the end of that young tree, and it keeps going up and down like a spring, and it won't go any nearer than about twelve feet from the ground. would you drop?" _whish_! _rush_! _crash_! _thud_! the young tree sprang up again, cleaving a way for itself through the thick growth, and standing nearly erect once more, ragged and sadly deprived of its elegant proportions, just as a dull sound announced don's arrival on _terra firma_. "all right, jem!" he cried. "not hurt. look here; spread your arms out well and catch tight round the tree as you jump at it. you'll slip down some distance and scratch yourself, but you can't hurt much." "i hear, mas' don," said jem, drawing a long breath full of relief. "i'm a-coming. it's like taking physic," he added to himself; "but the sooner you takes it, the sooner it's down. here goes! say, mas' don, do you ketch hold o' the tree with your hands, or your arms and legs?" "all of them. aim straight at the stem, and leap out boldly." "oh, yes," grumbled jem; "it's all very well, but i was never 'prenticed to this sort o' fun.--below!" "a good bold jump, jem. i'm out of the way." "below then," said jem again. "yes, jump away. quick!" but jem did not jump. he distrusted the ability of the tree to bear his weight. "why don't you jump?" "'cause it seems like breaking my neck, which is white, to save those of them people in the village, which is black, mas' don." "but you will not break your neck if you are careful." "oh, yes! i'll be careful, mas' don; don't you be 'fraid of that." "well, come along. you're not nervous, are you, jem?" "yes, mas' don, reg'lar scared; but, below, once more. here goes! don't tell my sally i was afraid if i do get broke." possibly jem would have hesitated longer, but the stump of the bush upon which he stood gave such plain intimation of coming out by the roots, that he thought it better to leap than fall, and gathering himself up, he plunged right into the second kauri pine, and went headlong down with a tremendous crash. for he had been right in his doubts. the pine was not so able to bear his weight as its fellow had been to carry don. he caught it tightly, and the tree bent right down, carrying him nearly to the earth, where he would have done well to have let go; but he clung to it fast, and the tree sprang up again, bent once more, and broke short off, jem falling at least twenty feet into the bushes below. "hurt, jem?" cried don, forcing his way to his side. "hurt? now is it likely, mas' don? hurt? no. i feel just like a babby that's been lifted gently down and laid on a feather cushion. that's 'bout how i feel. oh, dear! oh, dear! here, give's a hand. gently, dear lad; i'm like a skin full o' broken bones. help me out o' this tangle, and let's see how much of me's good, and how much 'll have to be throwed away. eggs and bacon! what a state i'm in!" don helped him as tenderly as he could out into an open space, and softly assisted him to lie down, which jem did, groaning, and was perfectly still for a few moments flat there on his back. "are you in much pain, jem?" said don, anxiously. "horrid, lad, horrid. i think you'd better go on and warn 'em, and come and fetch me arterwards; only don't forget where i am, and not find me. look! there's two o' them birds coming to see what's the matter." "i can't leave you, jem. you're of more consequence to me than all the new zealanders in the place." "am i, mas' don? come, that's kindly spoke of you. but bother that tree! might ha' behaved as well to me as t'other did to you." "where do you feel in pain, jem?" "where? it's one big solid slapping pain all over me, but it's worst where there's a big thorn stuck in my arm." "let me see." "no; wait a bit. i don't mean to be left alone out here if i can help it. now, mas' don, you lift that there left leg, and see if it's broke." don raised it tenderly, and replaced it gently. "i don't think it's broken, jem." "arn't it? well, it feels like it. p'r'aps it's t'other one. try." don raised and replaced jem's right leg. "that isn't broken either, jem." "p'r'aps they're only crushed. try my arms, my lad." these were tried in turn, and laid down. "no, jem." "seems stoopid," said jem. "i thought i was broke all over. it must be my back, and when a man's back's broke, he feels it all over. here, lend us a hand, my lad; and i'll try and walk. soon see whether a man's back's broke." don offered his arm, and jem, after a good deal of grunting and groaning, rose to his feet, gave himself a wrench, and then stamped with first one leg and then with the other. "why, i seems all right, mas' don," he said, eagerly. "yes, jem." "think it's my ribs? i've heared say that a man don't always know when his ribs is broke." "do you feel as if they were, jem?" "oh, yes; just exactly. all down one side, and up the other." "could you manage to walk as far as the village? i don't like to leave you." "oh, yes; i think i can walk. anyhow i'm going to try. i say, if you hear me squeak or crack anywhere, you'll stop me, won't you?" "of course." "come on then, and let's get there. oh, crumpets! what a pain." "lean on me." "no; i'm going to lean on myself," said jem, stoutly. "i'm pretty sure i arn't broke, mas' don; but feel just as if i was cracked all over like an old pot, and that's werry bad, you know, arn't it? now then, which way is it?" "this way, jem, to the right of the mountain." "ah, i suppose you're right, mas' don. i say, i can walk." "does it hurt you very much?" "oh, yes; it hurts me horrid. but i say, mas' don, there arn't many chaps in bristol as could have failed down like that without breaking theirselves, is there?" "i think it's wonderful, jem." "that's what i think, mas' don, and i'm as proud of it as can be. here, step out, sir; works is beginning to go better every minute. tidy stiff; but, i say, mas' don, i don't believe i'm even cracked." "i am glad, jem," cried don. "i felt a little while ago as if i would rather it had been me." "did you, though, mas' don? well, that's kind of you, that it is. i do like that. come along. don't you be afraid. i can walk as fast as you can. never fear! think we shall be in time?" "i don't know, jem. i was in such trouble about you that i had almost forgotten the people at the village." "so had i. pain always makes me forget everything, 'speshly toothache. why, that's the right way," he cried, as they turned the corner of a steep bluff. "yes, and in a quarter of an hour we can be there; that is, if you can walk fast?" "i can walk fast, my lad: look. but what's quarter of a hour? i got muddled enough over the bells board ship--three bells, and four bells, and the rest of it; but out here there don't seem to be no time at all. wonder how near those fellows are as we see. i am glad i arn't broke." in about the time don had said, they came to the path leading to the ravine, where the cave pierced the mountain side. a few minutes later they were by the hot bath spring, and directly after, to don's great delight, they came upon tomati. "i was coming to look for you two," he said. "you had better not go far from the _whare_. two of the tribes have turned savage, and are talking about war." don interrupted him, and told him what they had seen. "so soon!" he said hurriedly. "is it bad news, then?" asked don, anxiously. "bad, my lads! bad as it can be." "then that was a war-party we saw?" "yes; come on." he then put his hands to his mouth and uttered a wildly savage yell, whose effect was instantaneous. it was answered in all directions, and followed by a shrieking and wailing chorus from the women and children, who came trooping out of their huts, laden with household treasures, and hurrying up one particular path at the back of the village, one which neither don nor jem had intruded upon, from the belief that it led to some temple or place connected with the maoris' religion. a few minutes before the men were idling about, lying on the black sand, sleeping, or eating and drinking in the most careless, indolent way. now all were in a state of the wildest excitement, and as don saw the great stalwart fellows come running here and there, armed with spear and stone axe, he felt that he had misjudged them, and thought that they looked like so many grand bronze figures, suddenly come to life. their faces and nearly naked bodies were made hideous with tattooing marks; but their skins shone and the muscles stood out, and as they all grouped together under the orders of tomati and ngati, both don and jem thought that if the party they had seen were coming on to the attack, the fighting might be desperate after all. in less time than it takes to tell, men had been sent out as scouts; and pending their return, tomati led the way up the path, after the women and children, to where, to don's astonishment, there was a strong blockaded enclosure, or _pah_, made by binding great stakes together at the tops, after they had been driven into the ground. there was but one entrance to the enclosure, which was on the summit of a rock with exceedingly steep sides, save where the path zigzagged to the top; and here every one was soon busy trying to strengthen the place, the spears of the men being laid against the stockade. "may as well help," said jem, sturdily. "i'm not going to fight, but i don't mind helping them to take care of themselves." they set to and aided in every way they could, ngati smiling approval, patting don on the back, and then hurrying away to return with two spears, which he handed to the two young men. "my pakeha!" he said; and jem gave an angry stamp, and was about to refuse to take the weapon, when there was a yell of excitement from all in the _pah_, for one of the scouts came running in, and as he came nearer, it could be seen that he was bleeding from a wound in the shoulder, and that he had lost his spear. as if nerved by this sight, don and jem seized the spears offered for their defence. "yes, mas' don," said jem; "we shall have to try and fight; seems to me as if the war's begun!" a wild shriek followed his words, and don saw that they were but too true. chapter thirty nine. war. tomati soon showed the reason for his elevation to the position of chief among the maoris, for, in addition to being a man of commanding presence and great strength, his adventurous life had given him quickness and decision in his actions, which told with a savage race none too ready to discriminate. he rushed out of the _pah_, and caught the man by the shoulder, questioned him, turned him over to a couple of his friends to be doctored, and then in a loud voice informed the excited crowd that the danger was not imminent, following up this announcement with orders to go on strengthening the stockade. he was instantly obeyed, his cool manner giving his followers confidence; and they went on working hard at securing certain spots and strengthening the entrance, but always with their spears close at hand. there was another shout from a sentry, and again the whole tribe was electrified, women and children huddling under shelter, and the warriors seizing their weapons. this time a scout came running in uninjured and with his spear to announce the nearer approach of the enemy. tomati received his news coolly enough, and then, after a word or two with ngati, signed to the man to join the defenders, while two fresh scouts were sent out to spy the neighbourhood, and keep the chiefs well informed of the coming danger. ngati's eyes seemed to flash, and there was a savage rigidity in his countenance that suggested hard times for the man who attacked him; but he seemed to place the most implicit confidence in tomati, obeying his slightest suggestion, and evidently settling himself into the place of lieutenant to the white captain. after the first wailing and tears, the women and children settled down in their shelter quite as a matter of course, and as if such an event as this were no novelty in their social history. once within the _pah_, and surrounded by stout fighting men on whom they could depend, they seemed quite satisfied, and full of confidence in the result of an attack, and this took jem's notice. "can't be much danger," he said, half contemptuously, "or these here wouldn't take it so coolly." "but it looks as if there was going to be a desperate fight." "tchah! not that, mas' don." "but look at that scout who ran in. he was hurt." "so is a boy who has had his head punched, and whose nose bleeds. there won't be no real fighting, my lad. i mean men being killed, and that sort o' thing." "think not, jem?" "sure of it, my lad. t'other side 'll come up and dance a war-dance, and shake their spears at our lot. then our lot 'll dance up and down like jack-jumpers, and make faces, and put out their tongues at 'em, and call 'em names. i know their ways; and then they'll all yell out, and shout; and then the others 'll dance another war-dance, and shout in noo zealandee that they'll kill and eat us all, and our lot'll say they'd like to see 'em do it, and that'll be all." don shook his head. the preparations looked too genuine. "ah, you'll see," continued jem. "then one lot 'll laugh, and say you're obliged to go, and t'other lot 'll come back again, and they'll call one another more names, and finish off with killing pigs, and eating till they can't eat no more." "you seem to know all about it, jem." "well, anybody could know as much as that," said jem, going to the side and taking up a bundle formed with one of the native blankets, which he began to undo. "what have you got there?" "you just wait a minute," said jem, with a dry look. "there! didn't know that was the arm chest, did you?" he unrolled and took out a cutlass and two pistols, with the ammunition, and looked up smilingly at don. "there!" he said, "what do you think o' them?" "i'd forgotten all about them, jem." "i hadn't, my lad. there you are. buckle on that cutlash." "no; you had better have that, jem. i should never use it." "oh, yes, you would, my lad, if it was wanted. on with it." don reluctantly buckled on the weapon, and jem solemnly charged the pistols, giving don one, and taking the other to stick in his own waistbelt. "there," he said, retaking the spear given to him. "don't you feel like fighting now?" "no, jem; not a bit." "you don't?" "no. do you?" "well, if you put it in that way," said jem, rubbing his ear, "i can't say as i do. you can't feel to want to do much in that way till some one hurts you. then it's different." "it's horrible, jem!" "well, i suppose it is; but don't you get looking like that. there'll be no fighting here. i say, mas' don, it would be a bit of a game, though, to stick the pynte of this here spear a little way into one of the savages. wonder what he'd say." "ah! my pakeha!" cried a voice just behind them; and they turned sharply, to find themselves face to face with ngati, who patted don on the shoulder, and then pointed to his cutlass and pistol. "hah!" he ejaculated, with a deep breath; and then, without warning, snatched don's spear from his hand, threw himself into a series of wild attitudes, and went through the action of one engaged in an encounter with an enemy, stabbing, parrying, dodging, and darting here and there in a way that suggested instant immolation for the unfortunate he encountered. "look at him, mas' don," whispered jem. "look at him pretending. that's the way they fight. by-an'-by, you'll see lots o' that, but you mark my words, none on 'em won't go nigh enough to hurt one another." ngati ceased as suddenly as he had begun, returned the spear to don, and seemed to intimate that he should go through the same performance. "you wait a bit, old chap!" cried jem. "we don't fight that way." "hah!" ejaculated ngati, and he ran across to a portion of the _pah_ where several of his warriors were busily binding some of the posts more securely. "it do make me laugh," said jem; "but i s'pose all that bouncing helps 'em. poor things. mas' don, you and i ought to be werry thankful as we was born in bristol, and that bristol's in old england. say, shall you give any one a chop if it does come to a fight?" don shook his head. jem laughed. "if it warn't for wasting the powder, i tell you what we'd do. get up a-top yonder where we could lean over the palings, wait till the other chaps comes up, and then shoot over their heads with the pistols. that'd make some of 'em run." there was another shout here, for two of the scouts came running in, and every man seized his spear, and darted to the spot he was expected to defend. "why, mas' don, how they can run! look at 'em. an englishman wouldn't run like that from a dozen men. here, let's chuck these spears away. we sha'n't want 'em. an englishman as has got fists don't want no spears. look! look!" the two scouts had come running in very swiftly till they were about a hundred yards from the gateway of the _pah_, when they stopped short and faced about as two of the enemy, who were in chase, dashed at them, spear in hand. then, to jem's astonishment, a sharp passage of arms occurred; the spears clashed together, there was a wonderful display of thrusting and parrying, and the two enemies fell back, and the scouts continued their retreat to the shelter of the fort. "what do you think of that, jem?" said don excitedly. "that was real fighting." "real?" cried jem; "it was wonderful!" and he spoke huskily. "why, both those chaps was wounded, and these here's got it, too." the two scouts were both gashed about the arms by their enemies' spears, but they came bravely in, without making any display, and were received by cheers, tomati going up to each in turn, and gripping his hand. just then the englishman caught sight of his compatriots, and came across to them quickly. "hullo!" he said, with a grim smile, "cleared for action, and guns run out?" "yes, we're ready," said jem. "going to fight on our side?" "well, i don't know," said jem, in a dubious kind of way. "fighting arn't much in my line." "not in yours neither, youngster. there, i daresay we shall soon beat them off. you two keep under shelter, and if things go against us, you both get away, and make for the mountain. go right into that cave, and wait till i join you." "but there will not be much fighting, will there--i mean real fighting?" said jem. "i don't know what you mean by real fighting, squire; but i suppose we shall keep on till half of us on both sides are killed and wounded." "so bad as that?" "p'r'aps worse," said the man grimly. "here, shake hands young un, in case we don't have another chance. if you have to run for it, keep along the east coast for about a hundred miles; there's white men settled down yonder. good-bye." tomati shook hands heartily, and went off to his righting men, who were excitedly watching the level below the _pah_, to which part it was expected the enemy would first come. don joined them, eager to see how matters were going, and hopeful still, in spite of tomati's words, that matters would not assume so serious an aspect; but just then a hand was laid upon his arm. "i was out of it, mas' don," whispered jem. "they do bounce a deal. but there's going to be real fighting on. one of those poor fellows who came running in, and stood up as if nothing was wrong, is dead." "dead?" "yes, my lad. spear went right through his chest. hark at 'em!" there was a low wailing noise from the corner of the _pah_, where the two men were sheltered, and don felt a chill of horror run through him. "then it is going to be quite a savage battle, jem?" "'fraid so, my lad--no, i don't mean 'fraid--think so. now, look here, mas' don, it won't be long first, so you'd better go and lie down behind them high palings, where you'll be safe." "and what are you going to do?" "stop here and see what there is to see." "but you may be hurt." "well, mas' don," said jem bitterly; "it don't much matter if i am. run along, my lad." "i'm going to stop with you, jem." "and suppose you're hurt; what am i to say to your mother? why, she'd never forgive me." "nor me either, jem, if i were to go and hide, while you stood out here." "but it's going to be real dangerous, mas' don." "it will be just as dangerous for you, jem. what should i say to your wife if you were hurt?" "don't know, mas' don," said jem sadly. "i don't think she'd mind a deal." "you don't mean it, jem!" cried don sharply. "now, are you coming into shelter?" "no," said jem, with a peculiarly hard, stern look in his face. "i'm going to fight." "then i shall stay too, jem." "won't you feel frightened, mas' don?" "yes, i suppose so. it seems very horrible." "yes, so it is, but it's them others as makes it horrible. i'm going to give one on 'em something for spearing that poor chap. look out, mas' don; here they come!" there was a fierce shout of defiance as the scouts came running in now as hard as they could, followed by a body of about two hundred naked warriors, whose bronzed bodies glistened in the sunshine. they came on in a regular body, running swiftly, and not keeping step, but with wonderful regularity, till they were about fifty yards from the _pah_, when, after opening out into a solid oblong mass to show a broader front, they stopped suddenly as one man, dropped into a half-kneeling position, and remained perfectly motionless, every savage with his head bent round, as if he were looking over his left shoulder, and then turning his eyes to the ground, and holding his weapon diagonally across his body. the whole business was as correctly gone through as if it was a manoeuvre of some well-drilled european regiment, and then there was an utter silence for a few minutes. not a sound arose from either side; enemies and friends resembled statues, and it was as if the earth had some great attraction for them, for every eye looked down instead of at a foe. don's heart beat heavily. as the band of heavy warriors came on, the air seemed to throb, and the earth resound. it was exciting enough then; but this was, in its utter stillness, horribly intense, and with breathless interest the two adventurers scanned the fierce-looking band. all at once jem placed his lips close to don's ear, and whispered,-- "dunno what to say to it all, mas' don. p'r'aps it's flam after all." "no, jem; they look too fierce," whispered back don. "ay, my lad, that's it; they look so fierce. if they didn't look so precious ugly, i should believe in 'em a bit more. looks to me as if they were going to pretend to bite, and then run off." a sudden yell rose from the attacking party just then, and three of the enemy rushed forward to the front, armed with short-handled stone tomahawks. they seemed to be chiefs, and were men of great height and bulk, but none the less active; and as they advanced, a low murmur of dismay was started by such of the women as could command a view of what was going on outside. this seemed to be communicated to all the rest, women and children taking up the murmur, which rose to a piteous wail. this started the pigs and dogs which had been driven into the protection of the _pah_, and the discord was terrible. but meanwhile, partly to encourage their followers, partly to dismay those they had come to attack, the three leaders rushed wildly to and fro before the opening to the fort, brandishing their stone axes, grimacing horribly, putting out their tongues, and turning up their eyes, till only the whites were visible. "it's that 'ere which makes me think they won't fight," said jem, as he and don watched the scene intently. "don't talk, jem. see what they are going to do. are we to shoot if they do attack?" "if you don't they'll give it to us," replied jem. "oh, what a row!" for at that moment there was a terrible and peculiar cry given from somewhere behind the little army, and the three men gave place to one who rushed from behind. the cry was given out three times as the man indulged in a similar set of wild evolutions to those which had been displayed by the three leaders, and with his eyes showing only the whites, he too thrust out his tongue derisively. "if i was only near enough to give you a chop under the chin!" grumbled jem. then he grasped and cocked the pistol he held, for the chief in front suddenly began to stamp on the ground, and shouted forth the beginning of his war-song. up leaped the whole of the enemy, to shake their spears as they yelled out the chorus, leaping and stamping with regular movement, till the earth seemed to quiver. the acts of the chief were imitated, every man seeming to strive to outdo his fellows in the contortions of their countenances, the protrusion of their tongues, and the way in which they rolled and displayed the whites of their eyes. there was quite a military precision in the stamping and bounding, while the rhythm of the wild war-song was kept with wonderful accuracy. "feel scared, mas' don?" whispered jem. "i did at first, jem," replied don; "but they seem such a set of ridiculous idiots, that i am more disposed to laugh at them." "that's just how i feel, my lad, only aggrawated like, too. i should like to go among 'em with a big stick. i never see such faces as they make. it is all flam; they won't fight." the war-song went on as if the enemy were exciting themselves for the affray, and all the time the men of tomati and ngati stood firm, and as watchful as could be of their foes, who leaped, and stamped, and sang till jem turned to don, and said in a low voice,-- "look here, mas' don, it's my opinion that these here chaps never grew inside their heads after they was six or seven. they've got bodies big enough, but no more brains than a little child. look at that six-foot-four chap making faces at us; why, it's like a little boy. they won't fight." it seemed so to don, and that it was all going to be an attempt to frighten the tribe he was with. but all the same, the enemy came by degrees nearer and nearer, as they yelled and leaped; and a suspicion suddenly crossed don's mind that there might be a motive in all this. "jem, they mean to make a rush." "think so, mas' don?" "yes, and our people know it. look out!" the followers of tomati had thoroughly grasped the meaning of the indirect approach, just as a man who has practised a certain manoeuvre is prepared for the same on the part of his enemy, and they had gradually edged towards the entrance to the _pah_, which was closed, but which naturally presented the most accessible way to the interior. the howling chorus and the dancing continued, till, at a signal, the rush was made, and the fight began. jem wimble's doubts disappeared in an instant; for, childish as the actions of the enemy had been previously, they were now those of desperate savage men, who made no account of their lives in carrying out the attack upon the weaker tribe. with a daring that would have done credit to the best disciplined forces, they darted up to the stout fence, some of them attacking the defenders, by thrusting through their spears, while others strove to climb up and cut the lashings of the _toro-toro_, the stout fibrous creeper with which the palings were bound together. one minute the enemy were dancing and singing, the next wildly engaged in the fight; while hard above the din, in a mournful booming bleat, rang out the notes of a long wooden horn. the tumult increased, and was made more terrible by the screaming of the women and the crying of the children, which were increased as some unfortunate defender of the _pah_ went down before the spear-thrusts of the enemy. the attack was as daring and brave as could be; but the defence was no less gallant, and was supplemented by a desperate valour, which seemed to be roused to the pitch of madness as the women's cries arose over some fallen warrior. a spear was thrust through at the defenders; answering thrusts were given, but with the disadvantage that the enemy were about two to one. tomati fought with the solid energy of his race, always on the look-out to lead half-a-dozen men to points which were most fiercely assailed; and his efforts in this way were so successful that over and over again the enemy were driven back in spots where they had made the most energetic efforts to break through. as don and jem looked on they saw tomati's spear darted through the great fence at some savage who had climbed up, and was hacking the lashings; and so sure as that thrust was made, the stone tomahawk ceased to hack, and its user fell back with a yell of pain or despair. ngati, too, made no grotesque contortions of his face; there was no lolling out of the tongue, or turning up of the eyes, for his countenance was set in one fixed stare, and his white teeth clenched as he fought with the valour of some knight of old. "i would not ha' thought it, mas' don," said jem excitedly. "look at him; and i say--oh, poor chap!" this last was as jem saw a fine-looking young maori, who was defending a rather open portion of the stockade, deliver a thrust, and then draw back, drop his spear, throw up his arms, and then reel and stagger forward, to fall upon his face--dead. "they'll be through there directly, mas' don!" cried jem, hoarsely, as don stooped upon one knee to raise the poor fellow's head, and lay it gently down again, for there was a look upon it that even he could understand. "through there, jem?" said don, rising slowly, and looking half stunned with horror. "yes, my lad; and tomati's busy over the other side, and can't come. arn't it time us two did something?" "yes," said don, with his face flushing, as he gave a final look at the dead maori. "ah!" both he and jem stopped short then, for there was a yell of dismay as ngati was seen now to stagger away from the fence, and fall headlong, bleeding from half-a-dozen wounds. an answering yell came from outside, and the clatter of spear and tomahawk seemed to increase, while the posts were beginning to yield in the weak spot near where the two companions stood. "come on, jem!" cried don, who seemed to be moved by a spirit of excitement, which made him forget to feel afraid; and together they ran to where two men, supported by their companions outside, were hacking at the _toro-toro_, while others were fiercely thrusting their spears through whenever the defenders tried to force the axe-men down. "pistols, jem, and together, before those two fellows cut the lashings." "that's your sort!" cried jem; and there was a sharp _click, click_, as they cocked their pistols. "now, jem, we mustn't miss," said don. "do as i do." he walked to within three or four yards of the great fence, and rested the butt of the spear he carried on the ground. then, holding the pistol-barrel against the spear-shaft with his left hand, thus turning the spear into a support, he took a long and careful aim at a great bulky savage, holding on the top of the fence. jem followed his example, and covered the other; while the enemy yelled, and thrust at them with their spears, yelling the more excitedly as it was found impossible to reach them. "let me give the word, mas' don!" cried jem, whose voice shook with excitement. "mind and don't miss, dear lad, or they'll be down upon us. ready?" "yes," said don. "here goes, then," cried jem. "fire! stop your vents." the two pistols went off simultaneously, and for a few moments the smoke concealed the results. then there was a tremendous yelling outside, one that was answered from within by the defenders, who seemed to have become inspirited by the shots; for either from fright, or from the effects of the bullets, the two great maoris who were cutting the lashings were down, and the defenders were once more at the fence, keeping the enemy back. "load quickly, jem," said don. "that's just what i was a-going to say to you, mas' don." "well done, my lads! that's good!" cried a hoarse voice; and tomati was close to them. "keep that up; but hold your fire till you see them trying to get over, and wherever you see that, run there and give 'em a couple of shots. ha, ha! ha, ha!" he roared, as he rushed away to encourage his followers, just as jem had rammed home his charge, and examined the priming in the pistol pan. "that's just what we will do," said jem; "only i should like to keep at it while my blood's warm. if i cool down i can't fight. say, mas' don, i hope we didn't kill those two chaps." "i hope they're wounded, jem, so that they can't fight," replied don, as he finished his priming. "quick! they're getting up yonder." they ran across to the other side of the _pah_, and repeated their previous act of defence with equally good result; while the defenders, who had seemed to be flagging, yelled with delight at the two young englishmen, and began fighting with renewed vigour. "load away, mas' don!" cried jem; "make your ramrod hop. never mind the pistol kicking; it kicks much harder with the other end. four men down. what would my sally say?" "hi! quick, my lads!" shouted tomati; and as don looked up he saw the tattooed englishman, who looked a very savage now, pointing with his spear at one corner of the place. don nodded, and ran with jem in the required direction, finishing the loading as they went. it was none too soon, for three of the enemy were on the top of the fence, and, spear in hand, were about to drop down among the defenders. _bang_! went jem's pistol, and one of the savages fell back. _bang_! don's shot followed, and the man at whom he aimed fell too, but right among the spears of the defenders; while the third leaped into the _pah_, and the next moment lay transfixed by half-a-dozen weapons. "i don't like this, jem," muttered don, as he loaded again. "more don't i, my lad; but it's shoot them or spear us; so load away." jem words were so much to the point, that they swept away don's compunction, and they hastily reloaded. all around were the yelling and clashing of spears; and how many of the attacking party fell could not be seen, but there was constantly the depressing sight of some brave defender of the women and children staggering away from the fence, to fall dead, or to creep away out of the struggle to where the weeping women eagerly sought to staunch his wounds and give him water. "that's splendid, my lads! that's splendid! ten times better than using a spear," cried tomati, coming up to them again. "plenty of powder and ball?" "not a very great deal," said don. "be careful, then, and don't waste a shot. they can't stand that." "shall we beat them off?" said don, after seeing that his pistol was charged. "beat them off? why, of course. there you are again. look sharp!" once more the two pistols cleared the attacking maoris from the top of the fence, where they were vainly trying to cut through the lashings; and, cheered on by these successes, the defenders yelled with delight, and used their spears with terrible effect. but the attacking party, after a recoil, came on again as stubbornly as ever, and it was plain enough to those who handled the firearms that it was only a question of time before the besieged would be beaten by numbers; and don shuddered as he thought of the massacre that must ensue. he had been looking round, and then found that jem was eyeing him fixedly. "just what i was a-thinking, mas' don. we've fought like men; but we can't do impossibles, as i says to your uncle, when he wanted me to move a molasses barrel. sooner we cuts and runs, the better." "i was not thinking of running, jem." "then you ought to have been, my lad; for there's them at home as wouldn't like us two to be killed." "don't! don't! jem!" cried don. "come on. there's a man over! two-- three--four! look!" he ran toward the side, where a desperate attack was being made, and, as he said, four men were over, and others following, when once more the pistols sent down a couple who had mounted the fence, one of them being shot through the chest, the other dropping on seeing his companion fall, but with no further hurt than the fright caused by a bullet whistling by his ear. the four who were over made a desperate stand, but tomati joined in the attack, and the daring fellows soon lay weltering in their blood; while, as don rapidly loaded once more, he saw that tomati was leaning on his spear, and rocking himself slowly to and fro. "are you hurt?" said don, running up, and loading as he went. "hurt, my lad? yes: got it horrid. look here, if you and him see a chance make for the mountain, and then go south'ard." "but shall we be beaten?" "we are beaten, my lad, only we can't show it. i'm about done." "oh!" "hush! don't show the white feather, boy. keep on firing, and the beggars outside may get tired first. if not--there, fire away!" he made a brave effort to seem unhurt, and went to assist his men; while once more don and jem ran to the side, and fired just in time to save the lashings of the fence; but jem's pistol went off with quite a roar, and he flung the stock away, and stood shaking his bleeding fingers. "are you hurt, jem?" "hurt! he says, `am i hurt?' why, the precious thing bursted all to shivers; and, oh, crumpets, don't it sting!" "let me bind it up." "you go on and load; never mind me. pretty sort o' soldier you'd make. d'yer hear? load, i say; load!" "can't, jem," said don sadly; "that was my last charge." "so it was mine, and i rammed in half-a-dozen stones as well to give 'em an extra dose. think that's what made her burst?" "of course it was, jem." "bad job; but it's done, and we've got the cutlash and spears. which are you going to use?" "the spear. no; the cutlass, jem." "bravo, my lad! phew! how my hand bleeds." "i'm afraid we shall be beaten, jem." "i'm sure of it, my lad. my right hand, too; i can't hit with it. wish we was all going to run away now." "do you, jem?" "ay, that i do; only we couldn't run away and leave the women and children, even if they are beaten." a terrible yelling and shrieking arose at that moment from behind where they stood, and as they turned, it was to see the whole of the defenders, headed by tomati, making a rush for one portion of the fence where some of the stout poles had given way. a breach had been made, and yelling like furies, the enemy were pouring through in a crowd. chapter forty. defeated. two minutes at the outside must have been the lapse of time before the last spear held up in defence of the _pah_ was lowered by its brave owner in weakness, despair, or death. tomati's men fought with desperate valour, but they were so reduced that the enemy were four to one; and as they were driven back step by step, till they were huddled together in one corner of the _pah_, the slaughter was frightful. stirred to fury at seeing the poor fellows drop, both don and jem had made unskilful use of their weapons, for they were unwillingly mingled with the crowd of defenders, and driven with them into the corner of the great enclosure. one minute they were surrounded by panting, desperate men, using their spears valorously, as the greeks might have used theirs in days of old; then there came a rush, a horrible crowding together, a sensation to don as if some mountain had suddenly fallen on his head to crush out the hideous din of yelling and despairing shrieks, and then all was darkness. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ it was still darkness, but the stars were shining brightly overhead, when don opened his eyes again to begin wondering why his head should ache so terribly, and he should feel so cold. those thoughts were only momentary, for a colder chill ran through him as on both sides of where he lay a low moaning sound arose, as of some one in pain. "where am i?" he thought. "what is the matter?" then he realised what had happened, for a familiar voice said almost in a whisper,-- "poor little sally! i wish she was here with a bit of rag." "jem!" "mas' don! oh! thank the lord! amen! i thought--i thought--oh! oh!" a choking sensation rose in don's throat, for he could hear close beside him the brave, true fellow sobbing like a woman. "jem! jem, old chap!" whispered don. "don't, pray don't do that." "i'm a-trying not to as hard as ever i can," whispered the poor fellow hoarsely; "but i've been bleeding like a pig, mas' don, and it's made me as weak as a great gal. you see i thought as you was dead." "no, no, jem; i'm here safe, only--only my head aches, and i can't get my hands free." "no, my lad, more can't i. we're both tied up, hands and legs." "but the others? where is tomati?" "don't ask me, my lad." "oh, jem!" there was a few minutes' awful silence, during which the low moaning sound went on from different places close at hand. "where is ngati?" whispered don at last. "half killed, or dead, mas' don," said jem, sadly. "we're reg'lar beat. but, my word, mas' don, i am sorry." "sorry? of course." "ah! but i mean for all i said about the poor fellows. i thought they couldn't fight." "the women and children, jem?" "all prisoners, 'cept some as would fight, and they--" "yes--go on." "they served them same as they did those poor chaps as wouldn't give in." "how horrible!" "ah, 'tis horrid, my lad; and i've been wishing we hadn't cut and run. we was better off on board ship." "it's of no use to talk like that, jem. are you much hurt?" "hand's all cut about with that pistol busting, and there's a hole through my left shoulder, as feels as if it had been bored with a red hot poker. but there, never mind. worse disasters at sea, mas' don. not much hurt, are you?" "i don't know, jem. i can remember nothing." "good job for you, my lad. one of 'em hit you over the head with the back of a stone-chopper; and i thought he'd killed you, so i--" jem ceased speaking. "well, go on," whispered don. "that's all," said jem, sullenly. "but you were going to say what you did when the man struck me." "was i? ah, well, i forget now." don was silent, for jem had given him something terrible to dwell upon as he tried to think. at last he spoke again. "where are the enemy, jem?" "enemy, indeed!" growled jem. "savages like them don't deserve such a fine name. brutes!" "but where are they? did you see what they did?" "see? yes. don't ask me." "but where are they?" "sleep. drunk, i think. after they'd tied us prisoners all up and shut up all the women and children in the big _whare_, what do you think they did?" "kill them?" "killed 'em? no. lit fires, and set to and had a reg'lar feast, and danced about--them as could!" added jem with a chuckle. "some on 'em had got too many holes in 'em to enjoy dancing much. but, mas' don." "yes, jem." "don't ask me to tell you no more, my lad. i'm too badly, just now. think you could go to sleep?" "i don't know, jem. i don't think so." "i'd say, let's try and get ourselves loose, and set to and get away, for i don't think anybody's watching us; but i couldn't go two steps, i know. could you run away by yourself?" "i don't know," said don. "i'm not going to try." "well, but that's stupid, mas' don, when you might go somewhere, p'r'aps, and get help." "where, jem?" "ah!" said the poor fellow, after a pause, "i never thought about that." they lay still under the blinking stars, with the wind blowing chill from the icy mountains; and the feeling of bitter despondency which hung over don's spirit seemed to grow darker. his head throbbed violently, and a dull numbing pain was in his wrists and ankles. then, too, as he opened his lips, he felt a cruel, parching, feverish thirst, which seemed by degrees to pass away as he listened to the low moaning, and then for a few minutes he lost consciousness. but it was only to start into wakefulness again, and stare wildly at the faintly-seen fence of the great _pah_, right over his head, and through which he could see the twinkling of a star. as he realised where he was once more, he whispered jem's name again and again, but a heavy breathing was the only response, and he lay thinking of home and of his bedroom all those thousand miles away. and as he thought of bristol, a curious feeling of thankfulness came over him that his mother was in ignorance of the fate that had befallen her son. "what would she say--what would she think, if she knew that i was lying here on the ground, a prisoner, and wounded--here at the mercy of a set of savages--what would she say?" a short time before don had been thinking that fate had done its worst for him, and that his position could not possibly have been more grave. but he thought now that it might have been far worse, for his mother was spared his horror. and then as he lay helpless there, and in pain, with his companion badly hurt, and the low moan of some wounded savage now and then making him shudder, the scene of the desperate fight seemed to come back, and he felt feverish and wild. but after a time that passed off, and the pain and chill troubled him, but only to pass off as well, and be succeeded by a drowsy sensation. and then as he lay there, the words of the old, old prayers he had repeated at his mother's knee rose to his lips, and he was repeating them as sleep fell upon his weary eyes; and the agony and horrors of that terrible time were as nothing to him then. the adventures of don lavington--by george manville fenn chapter forty one. prisoners of war. "i wish our old ship was here, and i was at one of the guns to help give these beggars a broadside." "it is very, very horrible, jem." "ten times as horrid as that, mas' don. here was we all as quiet and comf'table as could be--taking our warm baths. i say, shouldn't i like one now! i'm that stiff and sore i can hardly move." "yes, it would be a comfort, jem." "yes, and as i was saying, here was we going on as quiet as could be, and interfering with nobody, when these warmints came; and look at things now." "yes," said don, sadly, as he looked round; "half the men dead, the others wounded and prisoners, with the women and children." "and the village--i s'pose they calls this a village; i don't, for there arn't no church--all racked and ruined." they sat together, with their hands tightly bound behind them, gazing at the desolation. the prisoners were all huddled together, perfectly silent, and with a dull, sullen, despairing look in their countenances, which seemed to suggest that they were accepting their fate as a matter of course. it was a horrible scene, so many of the warriors being badly wounded, but they made no complaint; and, truth to tell, most of those who were now helpless prisoners had taken part in raids to inflict the pain they now suffered themselves. the dead had been dragged away before don woke that morning, but there were hideous traces on the trampled ground, with broken weapons scattered here and there, while the wounded were lying together perfectly untended, many of them bound, to prevent escape--hardly possible even to an uninjured man, for a guard was keeping watch over them ready to advance threateningly, spear in hand, if a prisoner attempted to move. where don and jem were sitting a portion of the great fence was broken, and they could see through it down to the shore. "what a shame it seems on such a glorious morning, jem!" "shame! mas' don? i should just like to shame 'em. head hurt much?" "not so very much, jem. how is your shoulder?" "rather pickly." "rather what?" "pickly, as if there was vinegar and pepper and salt being rubbed into it. but my old mother used to say that it was a good sign when a cut smarted a lot. so i s'pose my wound's first rate, for it smarts like a furze bush in a fit." "i wish i could bathe it for you, jem." "thank ye, mas' don. i wish my sally could do it. more in her way." "we must try and bear it all, i suppose, jem. how hot the sun is; and, ill as i am, i should be so glad of something to eat and drink." "i'm that hungry, mas' don," growled jem, "that i could eat one o' these here savages. not all at once, of course." "look, jem. what are they doing there?" don nodded his head in the direction of the broken fence; and together they looked down from the eminence on which the _pah_ was formed, right upon the black volcanic sand, over which the sea ran foaming like so much glistening silver. there were about fifty of the enemy busy there running to and fro, and the spectators were not long left in doubt as to what they were doing, for amid a great deal of shouting one of the huge war canoes was run down over the sand and launched, a couple of men being left to keep her by the shore, while their comrades busied themselves in launching others, till every canoe belonging to the conquered tribe was in the water. "that's it, is it?" said jem. "they came over land, and now they're going back by water. well, i s'pose, they'll do as they like." "isn't this nearest one ngati's canoe, jem?" "yes, my lad; that's she. i know her by that handsome face cut in the front. i s'pose poor ngati's dead." "i'm afraid so," said don, sadly. "i've been trying to make out his face and tomati's among the prisoners, but i can't see either." "more can't i, mas' don. it's a werry bad job. lookye yonder now." don was already looking, for a great deal of excited business was going on below, where the victorious tribe was at work, going and coming, and bringing down loads of plunder taken from the various huts. one man bore a bundle of spears, another some stone tomahawks, which were rattled into the bottom of the canoes. then paddles, and bundles of hempen garments were carried down, with other objects of value in the savage eye. this went on for hours amidst a great deal of shouting and laughter, till a large amount of spoil was loaded into the canoes, one being filled up and deep in the water. then there seemed to be a pause, the canoes being secured to trees growing close down to the shore, and the party busy there a short time before absent. "coming to fetch us now, i suppose, mas' don," said jem. "wonder whether they've got your pistol and cutlash." but no one but the guards came in sight, and a couple of weary hours passed, during which the other prisoners sat crouched together, talking in a low tone, apparently quite indifferent to their fate; and this indifference seemed so great that some of the thoughtless children began to laugh and talk aloud. for some time this was passed over unnoticed; but at last one of the guards, a tall maori, whose face was so lined in curves that it seemed to be absolutely blue, walked slowly over to the merry group, spear in hand, to give one child a poke with the butt, another a sharp blow over the head, evidently with the intention of producing silence; but in the case of the younger children his movements had the opposite effect, and this roused the ire of some of the women, who spoke out angrily enough to make the tall, blue-faced savage give a threatening gesture with his spear. just at that moment, however, a loud shouting and singing arose, which took the man's attention, and he and his fellows mounted on a stage at one corner of the _pah_ to stand leaning upon their spears, gazing down at the festivities being carried on at the edge of the sands below. for some time past it had seemed to don that the plundering party had fired the village, for a tall column of smoke had risen up, and this had died down and risen again as combustible matter had caught. the fire was too far below to be seen, but the smoke rose in clouds as the work of destruction seemed to be going on. the singing and shouting increased, and once or twice the other prisoners appeared to take an excited interest in the sounds that came up to them; but they only sank directly after into a state of moody apathy, letting their chins go down upon their chests, and many of them dropping off to sleep. the noise and shouting had been going on for some time, and then ceased, to be succeeded by a low, busy murmur, as of a vast swarm of bees; and now, after sitting very silent and thoughtful, watching the faint smoke which came up from the fire, and eagerly drinking in the various sounds, don turned his eyes in a curiously furtive manner to steal a look at jem. he did not move his head, but proceeded with the greatest caution, so as to try and read his companion's countenance, when, to his surprise, he found that jem was stealing a look at him, and both, as it were, snatched their eyes away, and began looking at the prisoners. but at that time it was as if the eyes of both were filled with some strange attractive force, which made them turn and gaze in a peculiarly hard, wild way. don seemed to be reading jem's thoughts as his sight plunged deeply into the eyes of his companion, and as he gazed, he shuddered, and tried to look elsewhere. but he could not look elsewhere, only hard at jem, who also shuddered, and looked shame-faced and horrified. for they were reading each other's thoughts only too correctly, and the effect of that perusal was to make big drops of perspiration roll down jem's face, and to turn don deadly pale. at last each snatched his eyes away, jem to watch the prisoners, don to close his, and sit trembling and listening to the bursts of merriment which came up. at such times, in spite of their efforts, they could not imitate the apathy of the new zealanders, but gazed wildly at each other, trying to make themselves believe that what they imagined was false, or else the prisoners would have shown some sign of excitement. at last jem ceased to make any pretence about the matter. he stared speechlessly and full of misery at don, who let his eyes rest wildly on jem's for a time before dropping his head upon his chest, and sitting motionless. all through the rest of that hour, and hour after hour, till towards evening, did the wretched prisoners sit in despair and misery without food or water; and the sounds of merriment and feasting came loudly to where they were. the sun was descending rapidly when about half-a-dozen of the conquering tribe came up to the _pah_, with the result that those who were on guard suddenly grew wildly excited, and giving up their duties to the new comers, uttered eager shouts and rushed off in a way that was frantic in the extreme. don and jem again exchanged looks full of misery and despair, and then gazed with wonder and loathing at the new comers, who walked slowly about for a few minutes, and then went and leaned their backs against the palisading of the _pah_, and partially supported themselves upon their spears. "ugh!" ejaculated jem with a shudder as he turned away. "you wretches! mas' don, i felt as i lay here last night, all dull and miserable and sick, and hardly able to bear myself--i felt so miserable because i knew i must have shot some of those chaps." "so did i, jem," sighed don; "so did i." "well, just now, mas' don, i'm just 'tother way; ay, for i wish with all my heart i'd shot the lot. hark, there!" they listened, and could hear a burst of shouting and laughing. "that's them sentries gone down now to the feast. i say, mas' don, look at these here fellows." "yes, jem, i've been looking at them. it's horrible, and we must escape." they sat gazing at their guards again, to see that they were flushed, their eyes full, heavy, and starting, and that they were absolutely stupefied and torpid as some huge serpent which has finished a meal. "they must be all drunk, jem," whispered don, with a fresh shudder of horror and loathing. "no, mas' don, 'tarn't that," said jem, with a look of disgust. "old mike used to tell us stories, and most of 'em was yarns as i didn't believe; but he told us one thing as i do believe now. he said as some of the blacks in africa would go with the hunters who killed the hippipperpothy-mouses, and when they'd killed one, they'd light a fire, and then cut off long strips of the big beast, hold 'em in the flame for a bit, and then eat 'em, and cut off more strips and eat them, and go on eating all day till they could hardly see or move." "yes, i remember, jem; and he said the men ate till they were drunk; and you said it was all nonsense, for a man couldn't get drunk without drink." "yes, mas' don; but i was all wrong, and mike was right. those wretches there are as much like mike bannock was when he bored a hole in the rum puncheon as can be. eating too much makes people as stupid as drinking; and knowing what i do, i wishes i was in africa and not here." "knowing what you do, jem?" "yes, mas' don, knowing what i do. it's what you know too. i can see you do." don shuddered. "don't, jem, don't; it's too horrid even to think about." "yes, dear lad, but we must think about it. these here people's used to it, and done it theirselves, i daresay; and they don't seem to mind; but we do. ah, mas' don, i'd rather ha' been a sailor all my life, or been had by the sharks when we was swimming ashore; for i feel as if i can't stand this. there, listen!" there was a sound of shouting and singing from the beach below, and one of the guards tossed up his spear in a sleepy way, and shouted too, but only to subside again into a sluggish state of torpidity. "why, mas' don, by-and-by they'll all be asleep, and if we tried, you and me might get our arms and legs undone, and take a spear apiece, and kill the lot. what do you say?" "the same as you will, if you think, jem," replied don. "no." "no, it is, mas' don, of course. englishmen couldn't do such a thing as that." "but only let us have a fair chance at them again, jem, and i don't think we shall feel very sorry if we slay a few." "sorry?" said jem, between his teeth. "i mean a hundred of 'em at least, as soon as we can get away; and get away we will." they sat listening till the horrible feast below was at an end, and everything became so silent that they concluded that the enemy must be asleep, and began to wonder that the prisoners should all crouch together in so apathetic a state. but all at once, when everything seemed most still, and half the prisoners were dozing, there came the heavy trampling of feet; the guards roused up, and in the dim light of the late evening, the bonds which secured the captives' feet were loosened, and, like a herd of cattle, they were driven down from the platform upon which the _pah_ was constructed, and along the slope to the sands, where the canoes rode lightly on the swell. into these they were forced to climb, some getting in with alacrity, others slowly and painfully; two or three falling helplessly in the water, and then, half drowned, being dragged in over the side. "not a bit sorry i killed some of 'em," muttered jem. "they arn't men, mas' don, but savage beasts." it did not take long, for there was plenty of room in the little fleet of canoes. the prisoners were divided, some being placed in the canoes with the plunder, and treated as if they were spoil. others were divided among the long canoes, manned by the enemy, whose own wounded men, even to the worst, did not hesitate to take to a paddle, and fill their places. some of the children whimpered, but an apathetic state of misery and dejection seemed to have affected even them, while in one or two cases, a blow from a paddle was sufficient to awe the poor little unfortunates into silence. as soon as the last man was in his place, a herculean chief waved his hands; one of his followers raised a great wooden trumpet, and blew a long, bellowing note; the paddles dipped almost as one into the water, and the men burst into a triumphal chorus, as, for a few hundred yards, the great war canoes which they had captured swept with their freight of spoil at a rapid rate southward along the shore. then the sudden burst of energy ceased, the song broke off, the speed diminished; and the men slowly dipped their paddles in a heavy, drowsy way. every now and then one of the warriors ceased paddling, or contented himself with going through the motion; but still the great serpent-like vessels glided on, though slowly, while the darkness came on rapidly, and the water flashed as its phosphorescent inhabitants were disturbed. the darkness grew intense, but not for long. soon a gradual lightening became visible in the east, and suddenly a flash of light glanced along the surface of the sea, as the moon slowly rose to give a weird aspect to the long row of dusky warriors sluggishly urging the great canoes onward. don and jem had the good fortune to be together in the largest and leading canoe; and as they sat there in silence, the strangeness of the scene appeared awful. the shore looked almost black, save where the moon illumined the mountainous background; but the sea seemed to have been turned into a pale greenish metal, flowing easily in a molten state. no one spoke, not a sigh was heard from the prisoners, who must have been suffering keenly as they cowered down in the boat. don sat watching the weird panorama as they went along, asking himself at times if it was all real, or only the effect of some vivid dream. for it appeared to be impossible that he could have gone through what he had on the previous night, and be there now, borne who could say whither, by the successful raiders, who were moving their oars mechanically as the canoe glided on. "it must be a dream," he said to himself. "i shall awake soon, and--" "what a chance, mas' don!" said a low voice at his side, to prove to him that he was awake. "chance? what chance?" said don, starting. "i don't mean to get away, but for any other tribe to give it to them, and serve 'em as they served our poor friends; for they was friends to us, mas' don." "i wish the wretches could be punished," said don sadly; "but i see no chance of that." "ah! wait a bit, my lad; you don't know. but what a chance it would be with them all in this state. if it wasn't that i don't care about being drowned, i should like to set to work with my pocket knife, and make a hole in the bottom of the canoe." "it would drown the innocent and the guilty, jem." "ay, that's so, my lad. i say, mas' don, arn't you hungry?" "yes, i suppose so, jem. not hungry; but i feel as if i have had no food. i am too miserable to be hungry." "so am i sometimes when my shoulder burns; at other times i feel as if i could eat wood." they sat in silence as the moon rose higher, and the long lines of paddles in the different boats looked more weird and strange, while in the distance a mountain top that stood above the long black line of trees flashed in the moonlight as if emitting silver fire. "wonder where they'll take us?" said jem, at last. "to their _pah_, i suppose," replied don, dreamily. "i s'pose they'll give us something to eat when we get there, eh?" "i suppose so, jem. i don't know, and i feel too miserable even to try and think." "ah," said jem; "that's how those poor women and the wounded prisoners feel, mas' don; but they're only copper-coloured blacks, and we're whites. we can't afford to feel as they do. look here, my lad, how soon do you think you'll be strong enough to try and escape?" "i don't know, jem." "i say to-morrow." "shall you be fit?" jem was silent for a few minutes. "i'm like you, mas' don," he said. "i dunno; but i tell you what, we will not say to-morrow or next day, but make up our minds to go first chance. what do you say to that?" "anything is better than being in the power of such wretches as these, jem; so let's do as you say." jem nodded his head as he sat in the bottom of the canoe in the broad moonlight, and don watched the soft silver sea, the black velvet-looking shore, and the brilliant stars; and then, just as in his faintness, hunger, and misery, he had determined in his own mind that he would be obliged to sit there and suffer the long night through, and began wondering how long it would be before morning, he became aware of the fact that nature is bounteously good to those who suffer, for he saw that jem kept on nodding his head, as if in acquiescence with that which he had said; and then he seemed to subside slowly with his brow against the side. "he's asleep!" said don to himself. "poor jem! he always could go to sleep directly." this turned don's thoughts to the times when, after a hard morning's work, and a hasty dinner, he had seen jem sit down in a corner with his back against a tub, and drop off apparently in an instant. "i wish i could go to sleep and forget all this," don said to himself with a sigh--"all this horror and weariness and misery." he shook his head: it was impossible; and he looked again at the dark shore that they were passing, at the shimmering sea, and then at the bronzed backs of the warriors as they paddled on in their drowsy, mechanical way. the movement looked more and more strange as he gazed. the men's bodies swayed very little, and their arms all along the line looked misty, and seemed to stretch right away into infinity, so far away was the last rower from the prow. the water flashed with the moonlight on one side, and gleamed pallidly on the other as the blades stirred it; and then they grew more misty and more misty, but kept on _plash_--_plash_--_plash_, and the paddles of the line of canoes behind echoed the sound, or seemed to, as they beat the water, and jem whispered softly in his ear,-- "don't move, mas' don, my lad, i'm not tired!" but he did move, for he started up from where his head had been lying on jem's knees, and the poor fellow smiled at him in the broad morning sunshine. sunshine, and not moonshine; and don stared. "why, jem," he said, "have i been asleep?" "s'pose so, mas' don. i know i have, and when i woke a bit ago, you'd got your head in my lap, and you was smiling just as if you was enjoying your bit of rest." chapter forty two. tomati escapes. "have they been rowing--i mean paddling--all night, jem?" said don, as he looked back and saw the long line of canoes following the one he was in. "s'pose so, my lad. seems to me they can go to sleep and keep on, just as old rumble's mare used to doze away in the carrier's cart, all but her legs, which used to keep on going. them chaps, p'r'aps, goes to sleep all but their arms." a terrible gnawing sensation was troubling don now, as he looked eagerly about to see that they were going swiftly along the coast line; for their captors had roused themselves with the coming of day, and sent the canoes forward at a rapid rate for about an hour, until they ran their long narrow vessels in upon the beach and landed, making their prisoners do the same, close by the mouth of a swift rocky stream, whose bright waters came tumbling down over a series of cascades. here it seemed as if a halt was to be made for resting, and after satisfying their own thirst, leave was given to the unhappy prisoners to assuage theirs, and then a certain amount of the food found in the various huts was served round. "better than nothing, mas' don," said jem, attacking his portion with the same avidity as was displayed by his fellow-prisoners. "'tarn't good, but it'll fill up." "look, jem!" whispered don; "isn't that tomati?" jem ceased eating, and stared in the direction indicated by don. "why, 'tis," he whispered. "don't take no notice, lad, or they'll stop us, but let's keep on edging along till we get to him. will you go first, or follow me?" "i'll follow you," whispered don; and jem began at once by changing his position a little as he went on eating. then a little more, don following, till they had placed a group of the miserable, apathetic-looking women between them and the warriors. these women looked at them sadly, but made no effort to speak, only sat watching them as they crept on and on till they were close upon the recumbent figure which they had taken to be the tattooed englishman. "why, if this is so easy, mas' don," said jem, "why couldn't we get right among the trees and make for the woods?" "hush! some one may understand english, and then our chance would be gone. go on." another half-dozen yards placed them close beside the figure they had sought to reach, and as he lay beside him, don touched the poor fellow on the breast. "tomati!" he whispered, "is that you?" the man turned his head feebly round and stared vacantly--so changed that for a moment they were in doubt. but the doubt was soon solved, for the poor wounded fellow said with a smile,-- "ay, my lad; i was--afraid--you were--done for." "no, no; not much hurt," said don. "are you badly wounded?" tomati nodded. "can i do anything for you?" "no," was the reply, feebly given. "it's all over with me at last; they will fight--and kill one another. i've tried--to stop it--no use." jem exchanged glances with don, for there was something terrible in the english chiefs aspect. "where are they taking us?" said don, after a pause. "down to werigna--their place. but look here, don't stop to be taken there. go off into the woods and journey south farther than they go. don't stay." "will they kill us if we stay?" whispered don. "yes," said tomati, with a curious look. "run for it--both." "but we can't leave you." tomati smiled, and was silent for a few minutes. "you will not--leave me," he whispered, as he smiled sadly. "i--shall escape." "i am glad," whispered don. "but ngati?--where is ngati?" "crawled away up the mountain. badly wounded, but he got away." "then he has escaped," whispered don joyfully. "yes. so must you," said tomati, shivering painfully. "good lads, both." "i don't like to leave you," said don again. "ah! that's right. don, my lad, can you take hold--of my hand--and say--a prayer or two. i'm going--to escape." a thrill of horror ran through don as he caught hold of the englishman's icy hand, and the tears started to his eyes as in a broken voice he repeated the old, old words of supplication; but before his lips had formed half the beautiful old prayer and breathed it into the poor fellow's ear, don felt his hand twitched spasmodically, and one of the chiefs shouted some order. "down, mas' don! lie still!" whispered jem. "they're ordering 'em into the boat again. think we could crawl into the bush from here?" "no, jem; it would be impossible." "so it would, lad, so it would; but as he said, poor chap, we must take to the woods. think any of these would come with us?" don shook his head despairingly, as he longed to look in tomati's face again, but he dared not stir. a few minutes later they were once more in the leading canoe, which was being urged rapidly over the smooth sea, and it was a long time before don could frame the words he wished to say. for whenever he tried to speak there was a strange choking sensation in his throat, and he ended by asking the question mutely as he gazed wildly in his companion's face. "tomati, mas' don?" said jem sadly. don nodded. "ah, i thought that was what you meant, my lad. didn't you understand him when he spoke?" "no--yes--i'm afraid i did," whispered back don. "yes, you did, my lad. he meant it, and he knew it. he has got away." don gazed wildly in jem's eyes, and then bent his head low down to hide the emotion he felt, for it was nothing to him then that the english chief was an escaped convict from norfolk island. he had been a true friend and defender to them both; and don in his misery, pain, and starvation could only ask himself whether that was the way that he must escape--the only open road. it was quite an hour before he spoke again, and then hardly above his breath. "jem," he said, "shall we ever see our dear old home again?" jem looked at him wistfully, and tried to answer cheerily, but the paddles were flashing in the sun, and the canoe was bearing them farther and farther away to a life of slavery, perhaps to a death of such horror that he dared not even think of it, much less speak. chapter forty three. a search in the dark. two days' more water journey within easy reach of the verdant shore, past inlet, gulf, bay, and island, round jagged points, about which the waves beat and foamed; and then, amidst shouting, singing, and endless barbaric triumphal clamour, the captured canoes with their loads of prisoners and spoil were run up to a black beach, where a crowd of warriors with their women and children and those of the little conquering army eagerly awaited their coming. utterly worn out, the two english prisoners hardly had the spirit to scan the beautiful nook, through which a foaming stream of water dashed, at whose mouth lay several large war canoes, and close by which was the large open _whare_ with its carven posts and grotesque heads, quite a village of huts being scattered around. similarly placed to that which he had helped to defend, don could see upon a shoulder of the hill which ran up behind the _whare_, a great strongly made _pah_, ready for the tribe to enter should they be besieged by some enemy. but the whole scene with its natural beauty, seemed accursed to don, as he was half dragged out of the canoe, to stagger and fall upon the sands--the fate of many of the wounded prisoners, who made no resistance, but resigned themselves to their fate. a scene of rejoicing ensued, in the midst of which fires which had been lighted as soon as the canoes came in sight, were well used by the women who cooked, and before long a banquet was prepared, in which three pigs and a vast number of potatoes formed the principal dishes. but there was an abundance of fruit, and bowls of a peculiar gruel-like food, quantities of which were served out to the wretched prisoners, where they squatted together, as dismal a group as could be imagined, and compared their own state with that of the victors, whose reception was almost frantic, and whose spoil was passed from hand to hand, to be marvelled at, or laughed at with contempt. at another time don would have turned with disgust from the unattractive mess offered to him, but hunger and thirst made him swallow it eagerly, and the effect was wonderful. a short time before he had felt ready to lay down and die; but, after partaking of the food, he was ready to accept jem's suggestion that they should bathe their hands and faces in the rushing water that foamed by close at hand, the conquerors being too much occupied with their singing and feasting to pay much heed to them. so they crept to the rocky edge of the clear, sparkling water, and to their surprise found that it was quite warm. but it was none the less refreshing, and as they half lay afterwards on the sun-warmed rock at the side, watching suspiciously every act of their new masters, in dread of that horror which sent a chill through both, they felt the refreshing glow send new life and strength through them, and as if their vigour were returning with every breath they drew. "feel better, mas' don?" "yes, much." "so 'm i. if it wasn't for the hole in my shoulder, and it being so stiff, i shouldn't be long before i was all right." "does it pain you very much?" "come, that's better, mas' don," said jem. "better?" "yes; you're looking up again, and taking a bit o' interest in things. you quite frightened me, you seemed so down. my shoulder? well, it do give it me pretty tidy. i thought i should have had to squeal when i was washing just now. but my legs are all right, mas' don. how's yourn?" "my legs?" "yes. how soon shall we be ready to cut away?" "hush!" "oh! there's no one here understands english. when shall it be-- to-night?" "first time there is an opportunity, jem," said don, softly. "that's so, my lad; so every time you get a chance, you eat; and when you don't eat you drink, and lie down all you can." "do you think any of the men here would try to escape with us?" jem shook his head. "i don't understand 'em, mas' don. seems to me that these chaps are all fight till they're beaten; but as soon as they're beaten, they're like some horses over a job: they won't try again. no, they're no good to help us, and i suppose they mean to take it as it comes." the two lay in silence now, watching the proceedings of their captors, who were being feasted, till there was a sudden movement, and about a dozen men approached them, spear in hand. at a shouted order the prisoners, wounded and sound, rose up with the women and children; and as patiently and apathetically as possible, allowed themselves to be driven up the hill-side to the strongly-built _pah_, through whose gateway they entered, and then threw themselves wearily down in the shadow of the great fence, while their captors secured the entrance, and a couple of them remained on guard. "do i look like a sheep, mas' don?" said jem, as he threw himself on the earth. "sheep? no, jem. why?" "because i feels like one, my lad. driven in here like one of a flock, and this place just like a great pen; and here we are to be kept till we're wanted for--oh, don't look like that, mas' don. it was only my fun. i say, you look as white as a wax image." "then don't talk that way," said don, hoarsely. "it is too horrible." "so it is, dear lad; but it seems to me that they only want to keep us now for slaves or servants. they're not going to, eh?" "no, jem," said don looking at the great fence. "yes, that's just what i think, my lad. posts like this may keep in noo zealanders, but they won't keep in two english chaps, will they?" "do you think if we got away in the woods, we could manage to live, jem?" "i think, my lad, if we stop in this here _pah_, we can't manage to at all, so we'll try that other way as soon as we can." "do you think it will be cowardly to leave these poor creatures in the power of the enemy?" "if we could do 'em any good by staying it would be cowardly; but we can't do 'em any good. so as soon as you like, as i said before, i'm ready for a start. why, there's fern roots, and fruit, and rivers, and the sea--oh, yes, mas' don, i think we could pick up a living somehow, till we reached a settlement, or friendly tribe." night began to fall soon afterward, and half-a-dozen women came in, bearing more bowls of the gruel-like food, and a couple of baskets of potatoes, which were set down near the prisoners, along with a couple of great vessels of water. "didn't think i wanted any more yet," said jem, after eating heartily, for there was an abundance. "go on, mas don; 'tarn't so bad when you're used to it, but a shovel full of our best west indy plarntation sugar wouldn't ha' done it any harm to my thinking." "i have eaten all i care for, jem," said don, wearily; and he sat gazing at the great fence which kept them in. "no," said jem, softly; "not there, mas' don. just cast your eyes a bit more to the left. there's quite a rough bit, and if we couldn't climb it, i'm not here." "but what about your shoulder?" "i'll climb it with one hand, mas' don, or know the reason why." "but the men on sentry?" "tchah! they think we're all too done up and cowardly to try to get away. i've been thinking it all over, and if you're the same mind as me, off we go to-night." don's heart beat fast, and a curious feeling of timidity came over him, consequent upon his weakness, but he mastered it, and, laying his hand on his companion's arm, responded,-- "i am ready." "then we'll make our hay while the sun shines, and as soon as it's dark," said jem, earnestly, and unconscious of the peculiarity of his use of the proverb. "let's lie still just as the others do, and then, i'm sorry for 'em; but this here's a case where we must help ourselves." jem lay there on his back as if asleep, when three stalwart maoris came round soon after dusk, and took out the bowls which had held the food. they were laughing and talking together, as if in high glee, and it was apparently about the success of the festival, for they looked at their prisoners, whom they then seemed to count over, each in turn touching the poor creatures with the butt ends of their long spears. don felt the hot blood surge through his veins as one of the three guards gave him a harsh thrust with his spear, but he did not wince, only lay back patiently and waited till the men had gone. they secured the way into the _pah_, after which they squatted down, and began talking together in a low voice. don listened to them for a time, and then turned over to where jem lay as if asleep. "is it dark enough?" he whispered. "plenty. i'm ready." "can you manage to get over?" "i will get over," said jem, almost fiercely. "wait a little while, mas' don." "i can't wait, jem," he whispered. "i feel now as if i must act. but one minute: i don't like leaving these poor creatures in their helplessness." "more do i; but what can we do? they won't stir to help themselves. only thing seems to me is to get away, and try and find some one who will come and punish the brutes as brought us here." don's heart sank, but he knew that his companion's words were those of truth, and after a little hesitation he touched jem with his hand, and then began to crawl slowly across the open space toward the fence. he looked back to make sure that jem was following, but the darkness was so thick now, that even at that short distance he could not see him. just then a touch on his foot set him at rest, and he crept softly on, listening to the low muttering of the men at the gate, and wondering whether he could find the rough part of the fence to which jem had directed his attention. as he crept on he began to wonder next whether the prisoners would miss them, and do or say anything to call the attention of the guard; but all remained still, save that the maoris laughed aloud at something one of them had said. this gave him confidence, and ceasing his crawling movement, he rose to his hands and feet, and crept on all fours to the fence, where he rose now to an erect position, and began to feel about for the rough post. jem was up and by him directly after. don placed his lips to his ear. "whereabouts was it?" "somewhere 'bout here. you try one way, and i'll try the other," whispered jem; and then don gripped his arm, and they stood listening, for a faint rustling sound seemed to come from outside. the noise was not repeated; but for quite half an hour they remained listening, till, gaining courage from the silence--the maori guard only speaking from time to time, and then in a low, drowsy voice--don began to follow jem's suggestion, feeling post after post, and sometimes passing his arm through. but every one of the stout pales he touched was smooth and unclimbable without some help; and thinking that perhaps he had missed the place, he began to move back in the darkness, straining his ears the while to catch any sound made by his companion. but all was perfectly still, and every pale he touched was smooth and regular, set, too, so close to the next that there was not the slightest chance of even a child creeping through. all at once there was a rustling sound on his left. "jem has found it," he thought; and he pressed forward toward where he had parted from jem, passing one hand along the pales, the other extended so as to touch his companion as soon as they were near. the rustling sound again close at hand; but he dare not speak, only creep on in the dense blackness, straining his eyes to see; and his ears to catch his companion's breath. "ah!" don uttered a sigh of satisfaction, for it was painful to be alone at such a time, and he had at last touched the strong sturdy arm which was slightly withdrawn, and then the hand gripped him firmly. don remained motionless, listening for the danger which must be threatening, or else jem would have spoken; but at last the silence became so irksome that the prisoner raised his left hand to grasp jem's wrist. but it was not jem's wrist. it was bigger and stouter; and quick as thought don ran his hand along the arm to force back the holder of his arm, when to his horror, he found that the limb had been thrust through one of the openings of the fence, and he was a prisoner to some fierce chief who had suspected the design to escape, held in so strong a grip, that had he dared to struggle to free himself, it would not have been possible to drag the fettered arm away. "jem! help!" was on his lips, but he uttered no cry, only breathlessly listened to a deep panting from the outer side of the _pah_. chapter forty four. after suspense. what would happen? a powerful savage had hold of him firmly, had caught him just as he was about to escape; and the next thing would be that he would feel a spear driven through the opening between the pales, and that spear would run him through and through. his first idea was to give warning of the danger, but he dared not call, and jem was apparently beyond hearing of the rustling and panting noise which could still be heard. directly after don determined to wrest his arm away, and dart back into the darkness. but the hand which held him still gripped with a force which made this impossible; and in despair and dread he was about to fling himself down, when jem came gliding up out of the darkness, and touched his cold, wet face. "i've found the post, mas' don!" he whispered. don caught him with his disengaged hand, and placed jem's against the arm which held him. for a few moments jem seemed unable to grasp the situation, for nothing was visible. then he placed his lips once more close to don's ear. "wait a moment till i've opened my knife." "no, no," whispered don in a horrified tone. "it is too dreadful." "then let's both try together, and wrench your arm away." a peculiar hissing sound came at that moment from the outside of the _pah_, and don felt his arm jerked. "my pakeha! my pakeha!" "why, it's ngati!" whispered don joyfully; and he laid his disengaged hand on the massive fist which held him. the grasp relaxed on the instant, and don's hand was seized, and held firmly. "it's ngati, jem," whispered don, "come to help us." "good luck to him!" said jem eagerly; and he felt for the chiefs great hand, to pat it, and grasp it in a friendly way. his grasp was returned, and then they listened as ngati put his face to the opening, and whispered a few words, the only part of which they could understand being,-- "my pakeha. come." "yes; we want to come," whispered don. "tomati. gone," came back, and then the chief said something rapidly in his own tongue. don sighed, for he could not comprehend a word. "it's no good trying, mas' don," whispered jem; "and if we don't try to get away, we mayn't have a chance to-morrow. let's--here it is. quick! i've got it. you climb up first, get over the top, and hang by your hands, and wait till i come. we must both drop together, and then be off. oh, if we could only make him understand. what a fool of a language his is." don could not even then help thinking that ngati might have said the same, but he did not lose a moment. loosening his hold of the chiefs hand, he whispered,-- "pakeha. come." then giving himself up to the guidance of jem, his hands were placed upon a rough post, and he began to climb, jem helping him, somewhat after the fashion in which he had once assisted him to reach the window. then, almost noiselessly, he reached the top, climbed over with ease by the aid of the lashings, and getting a tight hold of the strong fibrous bands, he lowered himself down to await jem's coming. ngati was more intelligent than don had expected, for directly after he felt two great warm hands placed under to support his bare feet. these were raised and lowered a little; and, seizing the opportunity, he let himself sink down, till ngati placed his feet upon two broad shoulders, and then don felt himself seized by the hips, and lifted to the ground. as this went on don could feel the post he had climbed vibrating, and though he could not see, he could tell that jem had mounted to the top. "where are you?" whispered jem. "look out! ngati will help you." jem grasped the situation, and the chief caught his feet, lowering him slowly, when all at once something seemed to spring out of the darkness, knocking don right over, and seizing ngati. that it was one of the guards there could be no doubt, for the man raised the alarm, and held on to the prisoner he had made, jem going down awkwardly in turn. he and don could have fled at once, but they could not leave their new zealand friend in the lurch; and as the struggle went on, jem had literally to feel his way to ngati's help, no easy task in the darkness when two men are struggling. at last he was successful, and got a grip of one of the combatants' throat; but a hoarse, "no, pakeha!" told him of his mistake. he rectified it directly, getting his arm round the neck of the guard, tightening his grasp, and with such good effect, that ngati wrenched himself free, and directly after don heard one heavy blow, followed by a groan. "my pakeha!" "here!" whispered don, as they heard the rapid beating of feet, shouts below, in the _pah_, and close at hand. ngati seized don's hand, and after stooping down, thrust a spear into it. then, uttering a grunt, he placed another spear in jem's hand, the spoils of their fallen enemy, and leaving him for a moment, he felt along the fence for his own weapon. he spoke no more, but by means of action made don understand that he would go first, holding his spear at the trail, he grasping one end, don the other. jem was to do likewise, and thus linked together they would not be separated. all this took time, and during the brief moments that elapsed it was evident that the whole tribe was alarmed, and coming up to the _pah_. "all right, mas' don! i understand. it's follow my leader, and old `my pakeha' to lead." ngati did not hesitate a moment, but went rapidly down the steep descent, straight for the river, apparently right for where some of the yelling tribe were advancing. all at once the new zealand chief stopped short, turned quickly, and pressed his hands firmly on don's shoulder; for voices were heard just in front, and so near, that the lad feared that they must be seen. but he grasped the chief's idea, and lay flat down, jem following his example; and almost as they crouched to the ground, a group of the enemy ran up so close, that one of them caught his foot against jem, and fell headlong. fortunately jem was too much startled to move, and, muttering angrily, the man sprang up, not--as don expected--to let drive with a spear at his companion, but attributing his fall to some stone, or the trunk of a tree, he ran on after his companions. then ngati rose, uttered a few words, whose import they grasped, and once more they hurried on straight for the river. it was their only chance of escape, unless they made for the sea, and chanced finding a small canoe on the sands. but that was evidently not ngati's intention. over the river seemed to be the only way not likely to be watched; and, going straight for it, he only paused again close to its brink, listening to the shouting going on but a very short distance from where they stood. while don listened, it sounded to him as if the maoris were literally hunting them down, the men spreading out like a pack of dogs, and covering every inch of ground so closely that, unless they escaped from where they were, capture was absolutely certain. as they stood panting there, ngati caught don's hand, and tightened it round the spear, following this up by the same action with jem. "he means we are to hold tight, jem." "is he going to take us across this tumbling river, mas' don?" "it seems so." "then i shall hold tight." before them they could faintly make out the foaming water, and though the distance was not above twenty or thirty yards, the water ran roaring over great stones in so fierce a torrent, that don felt his heart sink, and shrank from the venture. but on the other side of the torrent was freedom from a death so horrible that the boy shuddered at the thought, and without hesitation he tightened his hold on the spear, and followed the great maori as he stepped boldly into the rushing stream. it was a new sensation to don as he moved on with the water over his waist, and pressing so hard against him, that but for the support of the spear-shaft, he must have been swept away. sturdy even as jem was, he, too, had a terribly hard task to keep his footing; for his short, broad figure offered a great deal of surface to the swift current, while the rugged stony bed of the river varied in depth at every step. they had a tower of strength, though, in ngati, who, in spite of the wounds he had received, seemed as vigorous as ever; and though don twice lost his footing, he clung tightly to the spear, and soon fought his way back to a perpendicular position. but even towers of strength are sometimes undermined and give way. it was so here. they were about half-way across the river, whose white foam gave them sufficient light to enable them to see their way, when, just as ngati came opposite to a huge block of lava, over which the water poured in tremendous volume, he stepped down into a hole of great depth, and, in spite of his vast strength and efforts to recover himself, he was whirled here and there for a few moments by the power of the fall. both don and jem stood firm, though having hard work to keep their footing, and drew upon the spear-shaft, to which ngati still held. but all at once there was a sharp jerk, quite sufficient to disturb don's balance, and the next moment ngati shot along a swift current of water, that ran through a narrow trough-like channel, and don and jem followed. rushing water, a sensation of hot lead in the nostrils, a curious strangling and choking, with the thundering of strange noises in the ears. next a confused feeling of being knocked about, turned over and beaten down, and then don felt that he was in swift shallow water amongst stones. he rose to his feet to find, as soon as he could get his breath regularly, that he had still hold of the spear-shaft, and that he had been swept down nearly to the sandy level, over which the river ran before joining the sea. a minute later and he was walking over the soft, dry sand, following ngati on the further shore, the great chief plodding on in and out among bushes and trees as if nothing had happened. the shouting of those in search was continued, but between them and the enemy the torrent ran, with its waters roaring, thundering, and plashing as they leaped in and out among the rocks toward the sea; and now that they were safely across, don felt hopeful that the maoris would look upon the torrent as impassable, and trust to their being still on the same side as the _pah_. as they trudged on, dripping and feeling bruised and sore, jem found opportunities for a word here and there. "thought i was going to be drownded after all, mas' don," he whispered. "i knocked my head against a rock, and if it wasn't that my skull's made o' the strongest stuff, it would ha' been broken." "you had better not speak much, jem," said don softly. "no, my lad; i won't. but what a ducking! all the time we were going across, it ran just as if some one on the left was shoving hard. i didn't know water could push like that." "i expected to be swept away every moment." "i expected as we was going to be drownded, and if i'm to be drownded, i don't want it to be like that. it was such a rough-and-tumble way." don was silent. "mas' don." "yes." "but, of course, i don't want to be drownded at all." "no, jem; of course not. i wonder whether they'll follow us across the river." "they'll follow us anywhere, mas' don, and catch us if they can. say, mas' don, though, i'm glad we've got old `my pakeha.' he'll show us the way, and help us to get something to eat." "i hope so, jem." "say, mas' don, think we can trust him?" "trust him, jem! why, of course." "that's all very well, mas' don. you're such a trusting chap. see how you used to trust mike bannock, and how he turned you over." "yes; but he was a scoundrel. ngati is a simple-hearted savage." "hope he is, mas' don; but what i'm feared on is, that he may be a simple-stomached savage." "why, what do you mean, jem?" "only as he may turn hungry some day, as 'tis his nature to." "of course." "and then, 'spose he has us out in the woods at his mercy like, how then?" "jem, you're always thinking about cannibals. how can you be so absurd?" "come, i like that, mas' don; arn't i had enough to make me think of 'em?" "hssh!" the warning came from ngati; for just then the breeze seemed to sweep the faint roar of the torrent aside, and the shouting of the maoris came loud and clear. "they're over the river," said jem excitedly. "well, i've got a spear in my hand, and i mean to die fighting for the sake of old bristol and my little wife." chapter forty five. in the woods. "they're not over the river, jem," said don, impatiently. "i wish you wouldn't always look on the worst side of everything." "that's what your uncle josiah allus does with the sugar, mas' don. if the foots was werry treacley when he had a hogshead turned up to look at the bottom first, he allus used to say as all the rest was poor quality." "we're not dealing with sugar now." "no, mas' don; this here arn't half so sweet. i wish it was." "hssh!" came from ngati again. and for the rest of the night they followed him in silence along ravines, over rugged patches of mountain side, with the great fronds of the tree-ferns brushing their faces, and nocturnal birds rushing away from them as their steps invaded the solitudes where they indulged in their hunt for food. when they encountered a stream, which came foaming and plunging down from the mountain, after carefully trying its depth, ngati still led the way. hour after hour they tramped wearily on through the darkness, ngati rarely speaking, but pausing now and then to help them over some rugged place. everything in the darkness was wild and strange, and there was an unreality in the journey that appeared dreamlike, the more so that, utterly worn out, don from time to time tramped on in a state of drowsiness resembling sleep. but all this passed away as the faint light of day gave place to the brilliant glow of the morning sunshine, and ngati came to a standstill in a ferny gully, down which a tremendous torrent poured with a heavy thunderous sound. and now, as don and jem were about to throw themselves down upon a bed of thick moss, ngati held out his hand in english fashion to don. "my pakeha," he said softly, "morning." there was something so quaint in his salutation that, in spite of weariness and trouble, don laughed till he saw the great chiefs countenance cloud. but it cleared at once as don caught his hand, pressed it warmly, and looked gratefully in his face. "hah!" cried ngati, grasping the hand he held with painful energy. "my pakeha, morning. want eat?" "yes, yes!" cried jem, eagerly. "yes, yes," said ngati; and then he stood, looking puzzled, as he tried to remember. at last, shaking his head sadly, he said, "no, no," in a helpless, dissatisfied tone. "want tomati. tomati--" he closed his eyes, and laid his head sidewise, to suggest that tomati was dead, and his countenance, in spite of his grotesque tattooing, wore an aspect of sadness that touched don. "tomati dead," he said slowly, and the chiefs eyes brightened. "dead," he said; "tomati dead--dead--all--dead." "yes, poor fellows, all but the prisoners," said don, speaking slowly, in the hope that the chief might grasp some of his words. but he did not understand a syllable, though he seemed to feel that don was sympathising with him, and he shook hands again gravely. "my pakeha," he said, pressing don's hand. then turning to jem, he held out his other hand, and said slowly, "jemmeree. good boy." "well, that's very kind of you," said jem, quietly. "we don't understand one another much, but i do think you a good fellow, ngati; so i shake hands hearty; and i'll stand by you, mate, as you've stood by me." "good, good," said ngati, smiling, as if he understood all. then, looking grave and pained again, he pointed over the mountain. "maori kill," he said. "want eat?" "yes; eat, eat," said jem, making signs with his mouth. "pig--meat." "no pig; no meat," said ngati, grasping the meaning directly; and going to a palm-like tree, he broke out some of its tender growth and handed it to his companions. "eat," he said; and he began to munch some of it himself. "look at that now," said jem. "i should ha' gone by that tree a hundred times without thinking it was good to eat. what's it like, mas' don?" "something like stalky celery, or nut, or pear, all mixed up together." "yes; 'tarn't bad," said jem. "what's he doing now?" ngati was busily hunting about for something, peering amongst the trees, but he did not seem to find that of which he was in search. he uttered a cry of satisfaction the next minute, though, as he stooped down and took a couple of eggs from a nest upon the ground. "good--good!" he exclaimed, eagerly; and he gave them to don to carry, while he once more resumed his search, which this time was successful, for he found a young tree, and stripped from its branches a large number of its olive-like berries. "there now," said jem. "why, it's all right, mas' don; 'tarn't tea and coffee, and bread and butter, but it's salad and eggs and fruit. why, fighting cocks'll be nothing to it. we shall live like princes, see if we don't. what's them things like?" "like very ripe apples, jem, or medlars," replied don, who had been tasting the fruit carefully. "that'll do, then. pity we can't find some more of them eggs, and don't light a fire to cook 'em. i say, ngati." the maori looked at him inquiringly. "more, more," said jem, holding up one of the eggs, and pointing to the ferny thicket. "no, no," said ngati, shaking his head. "moa, moa." he stooped down and held his hands apart in different directions, as if he were describing the shape of a moderate-sized oval pumpkin. then, rising erect, he raised one hand to the full extent of his arm, bending the fingers so as to imitate the shape of a bird's head, pressed his head against his arm, placed the left arm close to his body and a little forward, and then began to stalk about slowly. "moa, moa," he said, dropping his arm again, and pointing to the eggs, "kiwi, kiwi." "kiwi, kiwi," said jem. "can't make out what he means, mas' don; but it don't matter. shall we suck the eggs raw?" he made a gesture as if to break one, but ngati snatched it away. "no, no!" he cried sharply, and snatched the other away. "pig!" ejaculated jem. "well, i do call that greedy." but if the chief was greedy over the eggs, which he secured in a roughly-made bag, of palm strips, ingeniously woven, he was generous enough over the fruit and palm, upon which they made a fair breakfast; after which ngati examined jem's wounds, and then signed to him to come down to the side of the stream, seizing him by the wrist, and half dragging him in his energetic way. "is he going to drown me, mas' don?" "no, no, jem. i know: he wants to bathe your wound." so it proved, for ngati made him lie down by a pool, and tenderly washed the injuries, ending by applying some cool bruised leaves to the places, and binding them up with wild flax. this done, he examined don's head, smiling with satisfaction because it was no worse. "say, mas' don, it do feel comf'table. why, he's quite a doctor, eh?" "what?" continued jem, staring, as ngati made signs. "he wants you to bathe his wounds. your arm's painful, jem; i'll do it." ngati lay down by the pool, and, pulling up some moss, don bathed a couple of ugly gashes and a stab, that was roughly plugged with fibre. the wounds were so bad that it was a wonder to both that the great fellow could keep about; but he appeared to bear them patiently enough, smiling with satisfaction as his attendant carefully washed them, and in imitation of what he had seen, applied bruised leaves and moss, and finally bound them up with native flax. don shuddered more than once as he performed his task, and was glad when it was over, jem looking on calmly the while. "why, mas' don, a chap at home would want to go into hospital for less than that." "yes, jem; but these men seem so healthy and well, they heal up quickly, and bear their hurts as if nothing was wrong." "sleep," said ngati, suddenly; and he signed to don to lie down and to jem to keep watch, while he lay down at once in the mossy nook close to the river, and hidden by overhanging canopies of ferns. "oh, all right, mas' don, i don't mind," said jem; "only i was just as tired as him." "let me take the first watch, jem." "no, no; it's all right, mas' don. i meant you to lie down and rest, only he might ha' offered to toss for first go." "call me then, at the end of an hour." "all right, mas' don," said jem, going through the business of taking out an imaginary watch, winding it up, and then looking at its face. "five and twenty past seven, mas' don, but i'm afraid i'm a little slow. these here baths don't do one's watch any good." "you'll keep a good look out, jem." "just so, mas' don. moment i hear or see anything i calls you up. what time would you like your shaving water, sir? boots or shoes this morning?" "ah, jem," said don, smiling, "i'm too tired to laugh." and he lay back and dropped off to sleep directly, ngati's eyes having already closed. "too tired to laugh," said jem to himself. "poor dear lad, and him as brave as a young lion. think of our coming to this. shall we ever see old england again, and if we do, shall i be a cripple in this arm? well, if i am, i won't grumble, but bear it all like a man; and," he added reverently, "please god save us and bring us back, if it's only for my poor sally's sake, for i said i'd love her and cherish her, and keep her; and here am i one side o' the world, and she's t'other; and such is life." chapter forty six. an untiring enemy. jem kept careful watch and ward as he stood leaning on his spear. he was very weary, and could not help feeling envious of those who were sleeping so well. but he heard no sound of pursuit, and after a time the wondrous beauty of the glen in which they had halted, with its rushing waters and green lacing ferns, had so composing an effect upon his spirits, that he began to take an interest in the flowers that hung here and there, while the song of a finch sounded pleasant and homelike. then the delicious melody of the bell-bird fell upon his ear; and while he was listening to this, he became interested in a beautiful blackbird, which came and hopped about him. jem laughed, for his visitor had some white feathers just below the beak, and they suggested an idea to him as the bird bobbed and bowed and chattered. "well," he said, "if i was naming birds, i should call you the parson, for you look like one, with that white thing about your neck." the bird looked at him knowingly, and flitted away. directly after, as he turned his eyes in the direction where the uneaten fruit was lying, he saw that they had a visitor in the shape of one of the curious rails. the bird was already investigating the fruit, and after satisfying itself that the berries were of the kind that it could find for itself in the bush, it came running towards jem, staring up at him, and as he extended the spear handle, instead of being frightened away, it pecked at the butt and then came nearer. "well, you are a rum little beggar," said jem, stroking the bird's back with the end of the spear. "i should just like to have you at home to run in and out among the sugar-barrels. i'd--hah!" he turned round sharply, and levelled his spear at a great maori, whose shadow had been cast across him, and who seemed to have sprung out of the bush. "why, i thought it was one o' they cannibals," said jem, lowering the spear. "good job it wasn't dark, old chap, or i should have given you a dig. what d'yer want?" "sleep," said ngati laconically, and, taking jem's spear, he pointed to where don was lying. "me? what, already? lie down?" "sleep," said ngati again; and he patted jem on the shoulder. "all right, i'll go. didn't think i'd been watching so long." he nodded and walked away. "wish he wouldn't pat me on the back that way. it makes me feel suspicious. it's just as if he wanted to feel if i was getting fat enough." don was sleeping peacefully as jem lay down and uttered a faint groan, for his left shoulder was very painful and stiff. "wonder how long wounds take to heal," he said softly. "cuts arn't much more than a week. heigh-ho-hum! i'm very tired, but i sha'n't be able to go to--" he was asleep almost as soon as he lay down, and directly after, as it seemed to him, he started into wakefulness, to find ngati standing a few yards away, shading his eyes and gazing down the gully, and don poking him with his spear. "all right, sally, i'll get up. i--oh, it's you, mas' don." "quick, jem! the maoris are coming." jem sprang to his feet and seized the spear offered to him, as ngati came forward, brushed the ferns about so as to destroy the traces of their bivouac, and then, holding up his hand for silence, he stood listening. a faint shout was heard, followed by another, nearer; and signing them to follow, the maori went along up the gully, with the stream on their right. it was arduous work, for the ground was rapidly rising; but they were forced to hurry along, for every time they halted, they could hear the shouts of their pursuers, who seemed to be coming on with a pertinacity that there was no shaking off. it was hot in the extreme, but a crisp, cool air was blowing to refresh them, and, of its kind, there was plenty of food, ngati cautiously picking and breaking in places where the disarrangement was not likely to be seen. every now and then, too, they saw him make quite an eager dash on one side and return with eggs, which he carefully placed in the woven bag he had made. this went on till he had nearly a couple of dozen, at which, as he trudged along, jem kept casting longing eyes. in spite of the danger and weariness, don could not help admiring the beauty of the scene, as, from time to time, the gully opened out sufficiently for him to see that they were steadily rising toward a fine cone, which stood up high above a cluster of mountains, the silvery cloud that floated from its summit telling plainly of its volcanic nature. "_tapu_! _tapu_!" ngati said, every time he saw don gazing at the mountain; but it was not till long after that he comprehended the meaning of the chiefs words, that the place was "tapu," or sacred, and that it would act as a refuge for them, could they reach it, as the ordinary maoris would not dare to follow them there. higher up the valley, where the waters were dashing furiously down in many a cascade, don began to realise that they were following the bed of a river, whose source was somewhere high up the mountain he kept on seeing from time to time, while, after several hours' climbing, often over the most arduous, rocky ground, he saw that they were once more entering upon a volcanic district. pillars of steam rose here and there, and all at once he started aside as a gurgling noise arose from beyond a patch of vivid green which covered the edges of a mud-pool, so hot that it was painful to the hand. from time to time ngati had stopped to listen, the shouts growing fainter each time, while, as they progressed, a heavy thunderous roar grew louder, died away, and grew louder again. don looked inquiringly at jem. "it's the big chimney of that mountain drawing, mas' don." "nonsense!" "nay, that's what it is; and what i say is this. it's all wery well getting away from them cannibals, but don't let's let old ngati--" the chief looked sharply round. "yes, i'm a-talking about you, old chap. i say, you're not to take us right up that mountain, and into a place where we shall tumble in." "_tapu_! _tapu_!" said ngati, nodding his head, and pointing toward the steaming cloud above the mountain. "oh, you aggrawating savage!" cried jem. ngati took it as a compliment, and smiled. then, pointing to a cluster of rocks where a jet of steam was being forced out violently, he led the way there, when they had to pass over a tiny stream of hot water, and a few yards farther on, they came to its source, a beautiful bright fount of the loveliest sapphire blue, with an edge that looked like a marble bath of a roseate tint, fringed every here and there with crystals of sulphur. "let's have a bathe!" cried jem eagerly. "is there time?" he stepped forward, and was about to plunge in his hand, when ngati seized his shoulders and dragged him back. "what yer doing that for?" cried jem. the maori stepped forward, and made as if to dip in one of his feet, but snatched it back as if in pain. then, smiling, he twisted some strands of grass into a band, fastened the end to the palm basket, and gently lowered it, full of eggs, into the sapphire depths, a jet of steam and a series of bubbles rising to the surface as the basket sank. "why, jem," said don laughing, "you wanted to bathe in the big copper." "how was i to know that this was a foreign out-door kitchen?" replied jem laughing. "and the water's boiling hot," added don. "you can see it bubbling just at this end." "think o' that now!" said jem. "i say, what a big fire there must be somewhere down b'low. strikes me, mas' don, that when i makes my fortun' and buys an estate i sha'n't settle here." "no, jem. `there's no place like home.'" "well, home's where you settle, arn't it? but this won't do for me. it's dangerous to be safe." meanwhile, ngati was listening intently, but, save the hissing of steam, the gurgling of boiling water, and the softened roar that seemed now distant, now close at hand, there was nothing to be heard, so he signed to them to sit down and rest. he set the example, and don followed, to lie upon his back, restfully gazing up at the blue sky above, when jem, who had been more particular about the choice of a place, slowly sat down, remained stationary for a few moments, and then sprang up, uttering a cry of pain. "why, that stone's red hot!" he cried. this was not the truth, but it was quite hot enough to make it a painful seat, and he chose another. "well, of all the rum places, mas' don!" he said no more on the subject, for just then ngati rose, and carefully drew the bag of eggs from the boiling pool. "and i called him a pig!" said jem, self-reproachfully. "no: no pig," said ngati, who caught the word. "well, i didn't say there was, obstinit," said jem. "here, give us an egg. fruit and young wood's all werry well; but there's no spoons and no salt!" in spite of these drawbacks, and amid a series of remarks on the convenience of cooking cauldrons all over the place, jem made a hearty meal of new laid eggs, which they had just finished when ngati looked up and seized his spear. "what's the matter?" cried don listening. ngati pointed, and bent down, holding his hand to his ear. "i can hear nothing," said jem. ngati pointed down the ravine again, his keen sense having detected the sound of voices inaudible to his companions. then carefully gathering up the egg shells, so as to leave no traces, he took the bag with the rest of the eggs, and led the way onward at a rapid rate. the path grew more wild and rugged, and the roar increased as they ascended, till, after turning an angle in the winding gully, the sound came continuously with a deep-toned, thunderous bellow. "there, what did i tell you?" said jem, as the top of the mountain was plainly in view, emitting steam, and about a mile distant. "that's the chimney roaring." "it's a great waterfall somewhere on ahead," replied don; and a few yards farther on they came once more upon the edge of the river, which here ran foaming along at the bottom of what was a mere jagged crack stretching down from high up the mountain, and with precipitous walls, a couple of hundred feet down. ngati seemed more satisfied after a while, and they sat down in a narrow valley they were ascending to finish the eggs, whose shells were thrown into the torrent. "i should like to know where he's going to take us," said jem, all at once. "it does not matter, so long as it is into safety," said don. "for my part, i--lie down, quick!" jem obeyed, and bending low, don seized the maori's arm, pointing the while down the way they had come at a couple of naked savages, leaping from stone to stone, spear armed, and each wearing the white-tipped tail feathers of a bird in his hair. ngati saw the danger instantly, fell flat on his breast, and signing to his companions to follow, began to crawl in and out among the rocks and bushes, making for every point likely to afford shelter, while, in an agony of apprehension as to whether they had been seen, don and jem followed painfully, till the chief halted to reconnoitre and make some plan of escape. it was quite time, for the maoris had either seen them or some of the traces they had left behind; and, carefully examining every foot of the narrow valley shelf along which they had climbed, were coming rapidly on. don's heart sank, for it seemed to him that they were in a trap. on his right was the wall-like side of the gully they ascended; on his left the sheer precipice down to the awful torrent; before them the sound of a mighty cataract; and behind the enemy, coming quickly and stealthily on. chapter forty seven. a dangerous phase. ngati took all in at a glance, and signing to his companions to follow, he again lay down, creeping on for a short distance, trailing his spear, till they were well behind a pile of rocks. here he gave a sharp look round at the _cul de sac_ into which they had been driven, and without hesitation crept to their left to where the rocky wall descended to the raging torrent. to him the place seemed to have no danger, as he passed over the edge and disappeared, but to don it was like seeking death. "we can never do it, jem," he said. "must, mas' don. go on." don looked at him wildly, and then in a fit of desperation he lowered himself over the edge, felt a pair of great hands grasp him by the loins, and, as he loosened his hold, he was dropped upon a rough ledge of rock, where he stood giddy and confused, with the torrent rushing furiously along beneath his feet, and in front, dimly-seen through a mist which rose from below, he caught a glimpse of a huge fall of water which came from high up, behind some projecting rocks, and disappeared below. the noise of falling water now increased, reverberating from the walls of rock; the mist came cool and wet against his face, and, hurried and startled, don stood upon the wet, rocky shelf, holding on tightly, till ngati laid his hand upon his shoulder, passed round him, and then, signing to him to follow, went on. don's first thought was of jem, and looking behind him, there was his companion close to where he stood. jem nodded to him to go on, just as a faint shout arose from somewhere above; and this seemed to nerve him to proceed over the slippery stones to where ngati was passing round a corner, holding tightly by the rock, which he seemed to embrace. the way was dangerous in the extreme--a narrow ledge of the most rugged kind with a perpendicular moss-covered wall on the right, and on the left, space, with far below the foaming torrent, a glance at which seemed to produce vertigo. to stand still seemed to be worse than going on, and taking it to his comfort that what one man could do another might, don reached the corner, but hesitated again, for there seemed to be no foot-hold whatever. but as he hesitated a great brown hand came round, ready to grasp his firmly; and with this help he made the venture, pressing himself close against the rock and creeping on. he was just in the most perilous part, well out over the torrent, when his left foot slipped, and a horrible chill ran through him, as he felt that he was falling into the chasm below to instant death. he held on with his right hand, and strove to press his breast against the rock, but the effort was vain; his right hand slipped from the crevice in which it was thrust, his right foot glided over the wet moss, and he slipped down, hung for a moment or two over the foaming waters, and then felt himself swung up and on to a broad ledge, upon which ngati was standing. the maori took it as a matter of course, signed to him to get up, and passed his hand round the rock once more to assist jem. a curious sensation ran through don as he watched for jem's coming, and trembling and unnerved, it seemed to him that watching another's peril was more painful than suffering oneself. but in spite of his wounded shoulder jem came round the point slowly and carefully, but with his brow rugged from the pain he suffered as ngati held him firmly by his injured arm. as soon as he was in safety jem passed his hand across his wet forehead and bit his lip, whilst once more signing to them to follow, ngati led on. the way now was downward from rock to rock, and, terrible though it looked, the danger was less, for there was ample foot-hold and an abundance of bushy stems and fern fronds ready to their hands. the falls were again invisible, and they pressed on toward where another shoulder of the rocks jutted out, hiding the falling waters, whose noise was now so deafening that, had they wished to speak, a shout close to the ear would hardly have been heard. big as the maori was, he seemed to be as active as a goat, and picking the easiest ways over the mist-moistened stones, he led his companions lower and lower down the rock wall till, when they reached the next projection, and on passing round, it was to find themselves in what was little more than a huge rock pit, facing a mass of water which fell from quite two hundred feet above them into a vast cauldron of white foam, which chafed and roared and cast up clouds of spray as it whirled round and then rushed out of the narrow opening along the jagged gash by whose side they had come. the appearance of the vast body of water falling in one clear bound was bewildering, while the noise, as it reverberated from the rocky sides, produced a feeling of awe which made don stand motionless till ngati passed him, and sheltering his face behind a tuft of fern, peered round the corner they had just passed. he withdrew his head, looking fierce and determined, signed once more to don to follow, and went on climbing carefully along the sides of the huge pit. "where can he be going now?" thought don, as he caught sight of a refulgent rainbow spanning the falls, and his eyes rested upon the brilliant, sun-illumined greens of fern, bush, and grass, with pendent mosses, all luxuriating in the heat and moisture of the wind-sheltered place. these were but momentary glances, for his whole thoughts seemed to be taken up by the struggle for life imperilled in a hundred ways. for still ngati climbed on, turning every now and then to extend his hand or spear-shaft to don when the place was unusually difficult; and by this means they went on and on till first they were on a level with the side of the fall, then partially shielded by it, and at last, when the maori paused, unable to proceed farther either up or down, they were standing upon a projecting mass of rock with the great veil of water between them and the daylight, one vast curve of hundreds of tons of greenish water falling, ever falling, into the chasm below. it was dim with a greenish light where they stood, and the mist wetted them as they glanced sidewise along the way by which they had come, to see whether their enemies were in pursuit; but after watching for some time ngati smiled and shook his head. "no," he said, or seemed to say, for they could only judge by the movement of his lips. "no," and he shook his head, and seating himself, gazed calmly and placidly at the water, as if there were no such thing as danger. in fact, to the great savage there was no such thing as peril in any of the objects of nature. full of strength and calm matter-of-fact courage, climbing rocks or making his way into such a place as this was a very commonplace affair. his idea of danger was in the sight of enemies thirsting for his blood. now that they were out of reach, and he believed that he had thrown them off the scent, he was perfectly content, and ready to smile at the perfection of the hiding-place he had sought. "can you hear me, jem?" said don at last, after they had sat on the wet stones for some time, watching the falling water and listening to the thunderous roar. "yes, if you shout quite close?" "isn't it an awful place?" "ay, 'tis." "do you think we shall escape?" "i was thinking what a good job it was that we had managed a good feed." "how are we to get away again?" "dunno. p'r'aps there's another way out." "i hope so. it will be horrible to have to go back as we came." jem nodded, and began to nibble the dry skin at the side of his finger nails, looking up thoughtfully at the translucent arch. then he nodded to don as if he wished to speak, and don put his ear close to jem's lips. "think there's much more on it to come down?" "more, jem?" "yes. 'cause when it's all run out, they'll be able to see us." "i should think it is always falling like this, jem." "oh!" no more was said, and they sat patiently waiting for danger or freedom, whichever might be in store for them. ngati held out his great fist from time to time to shake hands in a congratulatory way, and the hours glided on till it began to grow dark, and another horror assailed don. it was evident that they must pass the night there in the cold and damp, for to attempt to escape in the dark would be madness, and how would it be if they dropped off to sleep and slipped? he shuddered at the thought, and sat in silence gazing at ngati, who waited calmly till the shadows of evening had quite filled the chasm, when he rose, and it was evident that he did not consider escape in the darkness impossible, for, grasping don's arm, he uttered the one word "come!" and led the way out from beneath the watery arch, to stand, as soon as they were quite clear, shading his eyes and gazing through the transparent gloom in search of their enemies. apparently satisfied, he tapped both on the shoulder, and with a shudder of dread don followed him along the side of the gulf. chapter forty eight. ngati's disguise. the return journey proved to be less perilous than the descent. the awful chaos of water was beneath them, but invisible, the darkness being so intense that everything was hidden but the mass of rock over and by which they climbed. in addition, the exertion and busy action after the long waiting seemed to keep them from thinking of anything but the task on which they were engaged. so that, to don's surprise, he found himself on the outer side of the dangerous corner, with the gulf left behind, and then clambering on and on by the side of the torrent chasm, past the other perilous parts, and before he could realise the fact, they were all together on the shelf, crouching down. here ngati slowly raised his head, to stand gazing over the edge at the level above, watching for a long time before stooping again, and uttering a low grunt. he mounted directly, bent down and extended a hand to each in turn, and then taking the lead, went cautiously onward to get out of the deep rift, and find a place that would enable them to reach the higher ground. it was still dark, but not so dense but that they could pick their way, and they passed on till they reached the hot spring, a little beyond which ngati believed that they could strike up to the left, and cross the mountain to reach the plains beyond. another half-hour was devoted to retracing their steps, when don stopped short, his ear being the first to detect danger. they were passing the mud spring, whose gurgling had startled them in coming, and for a moment don thought that a sound which he had heard came from the thin greyish-black mud; but it was repeated, and was evidently the laugh of some one not far away. ngati pressed their arms; and signing to them to lie down and wait, he crept onward, to be absent about a quarter of an hour, when he returned to say a few words in his native tongue, and then squat down and bury his face in his hands, as if in thought. "they're just in front, mas' don. i keep hearing of 'em," whispered jem. "sometimes i hear 'em one way, sometimes the other." "that is through the echoes, jem. how are we to manage now?" ngati answered the question in silence, for, rising quickly, after being deep in thought, he silently picked some grass and moss, rolled it into a pear shape, and bound it on the end of his spear. then holding the weapon up high, he bent his body in a peculiar way, and stalked off slowly, turning and gazing here and there, and from time to time lowering his spear, till, as he moved about in the shadowy light, he had all the appearance of some huge ostrich slowly feeding its way along the mountain slope. "moa! moa!" he whispered, as he returned. "jemmeree moa; my pakeha moa." "he wants us to imitate great birds, too, jem," said don, eagerly. "can you do that?" "can i do it?" said jem. "o' course; you shall see." ngati seemed delighted that his plan was understood, and he rapidly fashioned rough balls to resemble birds' heads for his companions' spears, and made them turn up their trousers above the knee, when, but for their white appearance, they both looked bird-like. but this difficulty was got over by ngati, who took it as a matter of course that they would not object, and rapidly smeared their hands, legs, and faces with the slimy mud from the volcanic pool. "well, of all the nasty smells!" whispered jem. "oh, mas' don, are you going to stand this? he has filled my eyes with mud." "hush, jem!" whispered don. "but shall we come across any hot baths by-and-by?" "silence, jem!" "all right, mas' don, you're master, but this is--oh, bad eggs!" ngati held up his hand for silence, and then whispering the word "moa" again, he imitated the movements of a gigantic bird, signing to them to do likewise. don obeyed, and in spite of the peril they were in, could hardly help laughing, especially when jem kept up an incessant growling, like that of some angry animal. ngati was evidently satisfied, for he paused, and then pointing forward, strode slowly through the low bushes, with don and jem following and imitating his movements as nearly as they could. as they walked on they could hear the murmur of voices, and this sound increased as ngati went slowly forward, bearing off to the left. it seemed to don that they were going straight into danger, and his heart beat with excitement as the talking suddenly stopped, and there was a rustling sound, as if several men had sprung to their feet. but ngati did not swerve from his course, going slowly on, and raising the spear from time to time, while a low excited whispering went on. "what will they do?" thought don; "try to spear us, or surround and seize us?" the maoris did neither. ngati knew the dread his fellow-countrymen possessed for anything approaching the supernatural, and in the belief that they would be startled at the sight of the huge birds known only to them by tradition, he had boldly adopted the disguise--one possible only in the darkness; and so far his plan was successful. to have attempted to pass in their ordinary shape meant either capture or death; but there was the chance that they might succeed like this. they went on in the most deliberate way, both don and jem following in ngati's steps, but at every whisper on their right don felt as if he must start off in a run; and over and over again he heard jem utter a peculiar sigh. a harder test of their endurance it would have been difficult to find, as in momentary expectation of a rush, they stalked slowly on, till the whispering grew more distant, and finally died away. all at once ngati paused to let them come up, and then pointed in the direction he intended to go, keeping up the imitation of the bird hour after hour, but not letting it interfere with their speed, till, feeling toward morning that they were safe, he once more halted, and was in the act of signing to his companions to cease their clumsy imitation, when a faint sound behind put him on his guard once more. the task had been in vain. they had passed the maoris, and were making for the farther side of the mountains, but their enemies had been tracking them all the night, and the moment day broke, they would see through the cunning disguise, and dash upon them at once. they all knew this, and hastened on, as much to gain time as from any hope of escape, till just at daybreak, when, panting and exhausted, they were crossing a patch of brush, they became aware that the maoris had overcome their alarm at the sight of the gigantic birds, and were coming on. chapter forty nine. unwelcome acquaintances. "we shall have to turn and fight, mas' don," whispered jem, as they were labouring through the bushes. "they're close on to us. here, why don't ngati stop?" there was a faint grey light beginning to steal in among the ferns as they struggled on, keeping up the imitation still, when a shout rose behind, and the maoris made a rush to overtake them. at that moment from a dark patch of the bush in front three shots were fired in rapid succession. don stopped short in the faint grey light, half stunned by the echoing reverberations of the reports which rolled away like thunder, while there was a rushing noise as of people forcing their way in rapid flight through the bush. but he hardly heeded this, his attention being taken up by the way in which ngati dropped heavily to the ground, and just behind him jem fell as if struck by some large stone. a terrible feeling of despair came over don as, feeling himself between two parties of enemies, he obeyed the natural instinct which prompted him to concealment, and sank down among the ferns. what should he do? run for his life, or stay to help his wounded companions, and share their fate? he stopped and listened to a peculiar sound which he knew was the forcing down of a wad in a gun-barrel. then the strange hissing noise was continued, and he could tell by the sounds that three guns were being loaded. the natives, as far as he knew, had no guns, therefore these must be a party of sailors sent to shoot them down; and in the horror of being seen and made the mark for a bullet, don was about to creep cautiously into a denser part of the bush, when he stopped short, asking himself whether he was in a dream. "all primed?" cried a hoarse voice, which made don wonder whether he was back in his uncle's yard at bristol. "ay, ay." "come on, then. i know i brought one of 'em down. sha'n't want no more meat for a month." "say, mate, what are they?" "i d'know. noo zealand turkeys, i s'pose." "who ever heard of turkey eight or nine foot high!" growled one of the approaching party. "never mind who heard of 'em; we've seen 'em and shot 'em. hallo! where are they? mine ought to be about here." "more to the left, warn't it, mate?" "nay, it was just about here." there was a loud rustling and heavy breathing as if men were searching here and there, and then some one spoke again--the man whose voice had startled don. "i say, lads, you saw me bring that big one down?" "i saw you shoot at it, mikey; but it don't seem as if you had brought it down. they must ha' ducked their heads, and gone off under the bushes." "but they was too big for that." "nay, not they. looked big in the mist, same as things allus do in a fog." "i don't care; i see that great bird quite plain, and i'm sure i hit him, and he fell somewhere--hah!" there was the sharp _click_, _click_ of a gun being cocked, and a voice roared out,-- "here, you, mike bannock, don't shoot me." there was a loud rustling among the ferns, and then jem shouted again. "mas' don--ngati! why--hoi--oh! it's all right!" the familiar voice--the name mike bannock, and jem's cheery, boyish call, made don rise, wondering more than ever whether this was not a dream. the day was rapidly growing lighter, and after answering jem's hail, don caught sight of him standing under a tree in company with three wild, gaunt-looking men. "mas' don! ahoy! mas' don!" "i'm here, jem, but mind the maoris." "i forgot them!" cried jem. "look out! there was a lot of savages arter us." the three men darted behind trees, and stood with their guns presented in the direction of the supposed danger, don and jem also seeking cover and listening intently. "were you hit, jem?" "no, my lad; were you?" "no. where's ngati?" "i'm afraid he has got it, my lad. he went down like a stone." "but mike! how came he here?" "i d'know, my lad. hi! stop! don't shoot. friends." ngati, who came stalking up through the bush, spear in hand, had a narrow escape, for two guns were presented at him, and but for the energetic action of don and jem in striking them up, he must have been hit. "oh, this is a friend, is it?" said mike bannock, as he gave a tug at his rough beard, and turned from one to the other. "arn't come arter me, then?" "no, not likely," said jem. "had enough of you at home." "don't you be sarcy," growled mike bannock; "and lookye here, these gentlemen--friends of mine!"--he nodded sidewise at the two fierce-looking desperadoes at his side--"is very nice in their way, but they won't stand no fooling. lookye here. how was it you come?" "in a ship of war," said don. "ho! then where's that ship o' war now?" "i don't know." "no lies now," said the fellow fiercely; "one o' these here gentlemen knocked a man on the head once for telling lies." "ah," growled one of the party, a short, evil-looking scoundrel, with a scar under his right eye. "hear that?" cried mike bannock. "now, then, where's that there ship?" "i tell you i don't know," said don sharply. "whorrt!" shouted mike, seizing don by the throat; but the next moment a sharp blow from a spear handle made him loosen his hold, and ngati stood between them, tall and threatening. "here, come on, mates, if you don't want to be took!" cried mike, and his two companions raised the rusty old muskets they bore. "put them down, will yer?" cried jem. "lookye here, mike bannock: mas' don told you he didn't know where the ship was, and he don't. we've left her." "ah!" growled mike, looking at him suspiciously. "now, look here: don't you try none of your games on me." "look here!" cried jem fiercely; "if you give me any of your impudence, mike bannock, i'll kick you out of the yard." "haw-haw!" laughed mike. "this here arn't bristol, little jemmy wimble, and i'm a free gen'leman now." "yes, you look it," said don, contemptuously. "you scoundrel! how did you come here?" "don't call names, mr don lavington, sir," whined the ruffian. "how did i come here? why, me and these here friends o' mine are gentlemen on our travels. arn't us, mates." "ay: gen'lemen on our travels," said the more evil-looking of the pair; "and look here, youngster, if you meets any one who asks after us, and whether you've seen us, mind you arn't. understand?" don looked at him contemptuously, and half turned away. "who was there after you?" said mike bannock, suspiciously. "some of a tribe of maoris," replied jem. "no one else?" "no." "ah, well, we arn't afeared of them." he patted the stock of his gun meaningly. "soon make a tribe of them run home to their mothers. see them big birds as we shot at? and i say, young lavington, what have you been doing to your face? smudging it to keep off the flies?" don coloured through the grey mud, and involuntarily clapped his hand to his face, for he had forgotten the rough disguise. "never you mind about his face," said jem grinning. "what birds?" "them great birds as we shot at," said mike. "i brought one of 'em down." "you! you couldn't hit a haystack," said jem. "you hit no bird." "ask my mates!" cried mike eagerly. "here you, don lavington, you usen't to believe me when i told you 'bout big wild beasts and furrin lands. we see three birds just here, fourteen foot high." "you always were a liar, mike," said don contemptuously. "you did not see any bird fourteen feet high, because there are no such things. you didn't see any birds at all." "well, of all--" began mike, but he stopped short as he heard don's next words,-- "come, jem! come, ngati! let's get on." he stepped forward, but after a quick exchange of glances with his companions, mike stood in his way. "no you don't, young un; you stops along of us." "what!" cried don. "we're three english gen'lemen travelling in a foreign country among strangers, and we've met you two. so we says, says we, folks here's a bit too handy with their spears, so it's as well for englishmen when they meet to keep together, and that's what we're going to do." "indeed, we are not!" cried don. "you go your way, and we'll go ours." "that's our way," said mike quickly. "eh, mates?" "ay. that's a true word." "then we'll go the way you came," cried don. "nay, you don't; that's our way, too." "the country's open, and we shall go which way we like," cried don. "hear, hear, mas' don!" cried jem. "you hold your tongue, old barrel cooper!" cried mike. "you're going along of us; that's what you're going to do." "that we are not!" cried don. "oh, yes, you are, so no nonsense. we've got powder and shot, and you've only got spears, and one gun's equal to fifty spears." "look here, sir!" cried don sternly, "i don't want any words with such a man as you. show me the way you want to take, and we'll go another." "this here's the way," said mike menacingly. "this is the way we're going, and you've got to come with us." "jem; ngati; come on," said don. "oh, then you mean to fight, do you?" growled mike. "come on then, mates. i think we can give 'em a lesson there." "mas' don," whispered jem, "it's no good to fight again guns, and my shoulder's a reg'lar dummy. let's give in civil, and go with them. we'll get away first chance, and it do make us six again' any savages who may come." "savages!" said don angrily; "why, where would you get such savages as these? the maoris are gentlemen compared to them." "that's my 'pinion again, mas' don; but we'd better get on." "but why do they want us with them?" "strikes me they're 'fraid we shall tell on them." "tell on them?" "yes; it's my belief as master mike's been transported, and that he's contrived to get away with these two." "and we are to stop with three such men as these?" "well, they arn't the sort of chaps i should choose, mas' don; but they say they're gen'lemen, so we must make the best of it. all right, mike, we're coming." "that's your sort. now, then, let's find my big bird, and then i'm with you." "yah! there's no big bird," said jem. "we was the birds, shamming so as to get away from the savages." "then you may think yourself precious lucky you weren't shot. come on." mike led the way, and don and his companions followed, the two rough followers of mike bannock coming behind with their guns cocked. "pleasant that, mas' don," said jem. "like being prisoners again. but they can't shoot." "why did you say that, jem?" said don anxiously. "because we're going to make a run for it before long, eh, my pakeha?" "my pakeha," said ngati, laying his hand on don's shoulder, and he smiled and looked relieved, for the proceedings during the last half-hour had puzzled him. don took the great fellow's arm, feeling that in the maori chief he had a true friend, and in this way they followed mike bannock round one of the shoulders of the mountain, towards where a jet of steam rose with a shrieking noise high up into the air. chapter fifty. how to escape? it was in quite a little natural fortress that mike stopped, the way being in and out through a narrow rift that must have been the result of some earthquake, and when this was passed they were in a sheltered nook, at one side of which the face of a precipice hung right over, affording ample protection from the wind and rain. through quite a cranny a stream of perfectly clear water trickled, and on the other side was a small deep pool, slowly welling over at one side, the steam rising therefrom telling that it was in some way connected with the noisy jet which rose outside. "there, young don lavington, that's where we lives, my lad, and you've got to stay with us. if you behave well, you shall have plenty to eat and drink. if you don't, mind one o' my mates don't bring you down as he would a bird." don glanced round wonderingly, and tried to grasp why it was that mike bannock was there, the only surmise upon which he could take hold being the right one--jem's: that mike was a transported man who had taken to the bush. he had just come to this conclusion when jem turned to him. "shall i ask him that, mas' don?" "ask him what?" "what i think. depend upon it he was sent out to botany bay, and run off to this country." "no, no, jem; don't ask." "he can't have come out here honest, mas' don. look at him, there arn't a honest hair in his head." "but we don't want to offend him, jem." "don't we? tell you what we do want, mas' don; we want to get hold o' them old rusty muskets and the powder and shot, and then we could make them sing small. eh? what say?" this was in answer to something said in a low voice by ngati, who looked from one to the other inquiringly. ngati spoke again, and then struck his fist into his hand with a look of rage and despair. "yes, i feel the same," said don, laying his hand upon the great fellow's arm. "i'd give anything to be able to understand what you say, ngati." the chief smiled, as if he quite comprehended; and grasped don's hand with a friendly grip, offering the other to jem. "it's all right, old boy," said the latter. "we can't understand each other's lingo, but we know each other's hearts. we've got to wait a bit and see." a week passed rapidly away, during which, in his rougher moods, mike treated his prisoners as if they were slaves, calling upon ngati to perform the most menial offices for the little camp, all of which were patiently performed after an appealing look at don, who for the sake of gaining time gave up in every way. jem grumbled, but he did what he was told, for the slightest appearance of resistance was met by a threatening movement with the muskets, which never left the men's hands. they were fairly supplied with food; fish from the streams and from a good-sized lake, ngati proving himself to be an adept at capturing the large eels, and at discovering fresh supplies of fruit and roots. but in a quiet way, as he watched his english companions like a dog, he always seemed to comprehend their wishes, and to be waiting the time when they should call upon him to fly at their tyrants and then help them to escape. "didn't know i was coming out to look after you, did you, young don?" said mike one evening. "king sent me out o' purpose. told one of the judges to send me out here, and here i am; and i've found you, and i ought to take you home, but i won't. you always liked furrin countries, and i'm going to keep you here." "what for?" said don. "to make you do for me what i used to do for you. i was your sarvant; now you're mine. ups and downs in life we see. now you're down and i'm up; and what d'yer think o' that, jem wimble?" "think as you was transported, and that you've took to the bush." "oh, do you?" said mike, grinning. "well, never mind; i'm here, and you're there, and you've got to make the best of it." to make the best of it was not easy. the three convicts, after compelling their prisoners to make the resting-place they occupied more weather-proof and warm, set them to make a lean-to for themselves, to which they were relegated, but without arms, mike bannock having on the first day they were at work taken possession of their weapons. "you won't want them," he said, with an ugly grin; "we'll do the hunting and fighting, and you three shall do the work." jem uttered a low growl, at which mike let the handle of one of the spears fall upon his shoulder, and as jem fiercely seized it, three muskets were presented at his head. "oh, all right," growled jem, with a menacing look. "yes, it's all right, jem wimble. but look here, don't you or either of you cut up rough; for if you do, things may go very awkward." "i should like to make it awkward for them, mas' don," whispered jem, as the convicts turned away; "but never mind, i can wait." they did wait, day after day, working hard, ill fed, and suffering endless abuse, and often blows, which would have been resented by ngati, but for a look from don; and night by night, as they gathered together in their little lean-to hut, with a thick heap of fern leaves for their bed their conversation was on the same subject--how could they get the muskets and spears, and escape. there was no further alarm on the part of the maoris, who seemed, after they had been discouraged in their pursuit, and startled by the guns, to have given up all intention of recapturing the escaped prisoners. "if we could only get the guns and spears, jem," said don one evening for the hundredth time. "yes, and i'd precious soon have them," replied jem; "only they're always on the watch." "yes, they're too cunning to leave them for a moment. was any one ever before so unlucky as we are?" "well, if you come to that," said jem, "yes. poor old tomati, for one; and it can't be very nice for ngati here, who has lost all his tribe." ngati looked up sharply, watching them both intently in the gloomy cabin. "but he don't seem to mind it so very much." "what do you say to escaping without spears?" "oh, i'm willing," replied jem; "only i wouldn't be in too great a hurry. those chaps wouldn't mind having a shot at us again, and this time they might hit." "what shall we do then?" "better wait, mas' don. this sort o' thing can't last. we shall soon eat up all the fruit, and then they'll make a move, and we may have a better chance." don sighed and lay with his eyes half-closed, watching one particular star which shone in through the doorway. but not for long. the star seemed to grow misty as if veiled by a cloud; then it darkened altogether; so it seemed to don, for the simple reason that he had fallen fast asleep. it appeared only a minute since he was gazing at the star before he felt a hand pressed across his mouth, and with a horrible dread of being smothered, he uttered a hoarse, stifled cry, and struggled to get free; but another hand was pressed upon his chest, and it seemed as if the end had come. chapter fifty one. ngati's goal. just as in the case of a dream, a long space of time in the face of a terrible danger seems to pass in what is really but a few moments. don, in an agony of apprehension, was struggling against the hands which held him, when a deep voice whispered in his ear,-- "my pakeha." "ngati!" don caught the hands in his, and sat up slowly, while the chief awakened jem in the same manner, and with precisely the same result. "why, i thought it was mike bannock trying to smother me," grumbled jem, sitting up. "what's the matter?" "i don't know, jem. ngati just woke me in the dark, and--oh! ngati!" his hands trembled, and a curious feeling of excitement coursed through his veins, as at that moment he felt the stock of a gun pressed into his hands, jem exclaiming the next moment as he too clasped a gun. "but there arn't no powder and--yes, there is." jem ceased speaking, for he had suddenly felt that there was a belt and pouch attached to the gun-barrel, and without another word he slipped the belt over his shoulder. "what do you mean, ngati?" whispered don hastily. "go!" was the laconic reply; and in an instant the lad realised that the maori had partly comprehended his words that evening, had thought out the full meaning, and then crept silently to the convicts' den, and secured the arms. don rose excitedly to his feet. "the time has come, jem," he whispered. "yes, and i dursen't shout hooroar!" ngati was already outside, waiting in the starlight; and as don stepped out quickly with his heart beating and a sense of suffocation at the throat, he could just make out that the maori held the third musket, and had also three spears under his arm. he handed one of the latter to each, and then stood listening for a few moments with his head bent in the direction of the convicts' resting-place. the steam jet hissed, and the vapour rose like a dim spectral form; the water gurgled and splashed faintly, but there was no other sound, and, going softly in the direction of the opening, ngati led the way. "we must leave it to him, jem, and go where he takes us," whispered don. "can't do better," whispered back jem. "wait just a moment till i get this strap o' the gun over my shoulder. it's awkward to carry both gun and spear." "wait till we get farther away, jem." _crash_! a flash of fire, and a report which echoed like thunder from the face of the rocks. jem, in passing the sling of the musket over his head, had let it fall upon the stones with disastrous effect. "run, mas' don; never mind me." "are you hurt?" "dunno." jem was in a stooping posture as he spoke, but he rose directly, as there was a rush heard in the direction of the convicts' lair, and catching don's hand they ran off stealthily after ngati, who had returned, and then led the way once more. not a word was spoken, and after the first rush and the scramble and panting of men making for the rocks, all was very still. ngati led on, passing in and out among tree and bush, and mass of rock, as if his eyes were quite accustomed to the darkness, while, big as he was, his bare feet made no more sound than the paws of a cat. both don and jem followed as silently as they could, but they could not help catching against the various obstacles, and making noises which produced a warning "hssh!" from their leader. as they passed on they listened intently for sounds of pursuit, but for awhile there were none; the fact being that at the sound of the shot the convicts believed that they were attacked, and rushing out, they made for the mountain. but as no further shots were heard, they grew more bold, and, after waiting listening for awhile, they stole back to the shed that should have been occupied by don and his friends; where, finding them gone, they hurried into their own place, found that the arms were taken, and, setting up a shout, dashed off in pursuit. the shout sent a shiver through don and jem, for it sounded terribly near, and they hurried on close to the heels of ngati, forgetful for the moment of the fact that they were armed, and their pursuers were weaponless. after a time the sounds from the camp, which had been heard plainly on the night wind, ceased, and for the first time don questioned jem as to his injury. "where are you hurt, jem?" "shoulder," said that worthy, laconically. "again?" "no; not again." "but i mean when the gun went off." "in my head, mas' don." "ah! we might stop now. let me bind it up for you." "no, no; it don't bleed," replied jem, gruffly. "i mean hurt inside my head, 'cause i could be such a stoopid as to let this here gun fall." "then you are not wounded?" "not a bit, my lad; and if you'll stop now, i think i'll try and load again." but ngati insisted on pushing on, and kept up a steady walk right south in the direction of the star which had shone in through the doorway. it was weary work, for the night was very black beneath the trees, but every step was taking them farther from their enemies, and though they stopped to listen again and again, they heard no sound of pursuit. morning dawned at last, bringing light to their spirits as well as to their eyes; and for three days they travelled on due south by mountain and lake, hot spring and glorious valley, now catching a glimpse of the sea, now losing it again. ngati seemed to have some definite object which he could not explain; and when don tried to question him, the great fellow only laughed and trudged on. they did not fare badly, for fruit, roots, and wild fowl were plentiful, fish could be obtained, and with glorious weather, and the dying out of the pain of their wounds, the journey began to be pleasant. "there's only one thing i'm afraid of, mas' don," said jem; "and that is that those convicts will smell us out." but as time went on that fear grew less, and just at sunset one evening, as ngati turned the shoulder of one of the mountains and stood pointing, don set up a shout which jem echoed, for there beneath them in a valley, and about a quarter of a mile from the shimmering sea, lay a cluster of cottages, such as could only have been built by europeans, and they realised now what had been the maori's thoughts in bringing them there. chapter fifty two. don has a headache. "escaped from the maoris, and then from a party of men you think were runaway convicts?" said the broad-shouldered, sturdy occupant of the little farm which they reached just at dusk. "ah, well, we can talk about that to-morrow, my lads. it's enough for me that you are englishmen. come in." "i cannot leave our friend," said don quietly, as he laid his hand on ngati's arm. "what, the savage!" said the farmer, rubbing his ear. "well, we--oh, if he's your friend, that's enough." they had no occasion to complain of the hospitality, for the farmer, who had been settled there, with a few companions only, for about four years, was but too glad to see fresh faces, and with a delicacy hardly to be expected from one leading so rough a life he refrained from asking any questions. don was glad, for the next morning he rose with a peculiar aching sensation in the head, accompanied by alternate fits of heat and cold. the next day he was worse, but he kept it to himself, laughing it off when they noticed that he did not eat his breakfast, and, to avoid further questioning, he went out after a time to wander up the valley into the shady woodland and among the tree-ferns, hoping that the rest and cool shadowy calm of the primaeval forest would prove restful and refreshing. the day was glorious, and don lay back listening to the cries of the birds, dreaming of home, and at times dozing off to sleep after his restless night. his head ached terribly, and was confused, and at times, as he lay back resting against a tuft of fern, he seemed to be back at bristol; then in an instant he thought he must be in the maoris' _pah_, wondering whether there could be any truth in jem's fancies as to why they were being kept. then there was a dull time of blank weariness, during which he saw nothing, till he seemed to be back in the convicts' lurking-place, and he saw mike bannock thrusting his head out from among the leaves, his face brown and scarred, and eyes glistening, as he looked from place to place. it was all so real that don expected to see the scoundrel step out into the open, followed by his two companions. and this did happen a few minutes later. mike bannock, armed with a heavy club, and followed by his two brothers in crime, crept out. then it seemed to be no longer the convicts' home, and don started from his dreamy state, horrified at what he saw, for the scoundrels had not seen him, and were going cautiously toward the little settlement, whose occupants were all away hunting, fishing, and attending to their crops. don alone was close at hand, and he in so semi-delirious and helpless a state, that when he tried to rise he felt as if it would be impossible to warn his friends of their danger, and prevent these ruffians from making their descent upon the pleasant little homes around. an acute pain across the brows made don close his eyes, and when he re-opened them his head was throbbing, his mind confused, and as he looked hastily round, and could see nothing but the beautiful verdant scene, he felt that he had been deceived, and as if the figures that had passed out of the dense undergrowth had been merely creatures of his imagination. he still gazed wildly about, but all was peaceful, and not a sound save the birds' notes fell upon the ear. "it must have been fancy," he thought. "where is jem?" he sank back again in a strangely excited state, for the idea that, in his fleeing to this peaceful place, he had been the means of bringing three desperate men to perhaps rob, and murder, and destroy, where all was repose and peace, was too terrible to bear. one minute he was certain that it was all fancy, just as he had dreamed again and again of mike and his ruffianly companions; the next he was as sure that what he had seen was real. "i'll go and find some one," he said hastily; and, rising feebly to his feet, he set off for the farm, but only to catch wildly at the trees to save himself from falling. the vertigo passed off as quickly as it came on. "how absurd!" he said, with a faint laugh. "a moment's giddiness. that's all." he started again, but everything sailed round, and he sank upon the earth with a groan to try and make out whether it was all fancy or a dream. in a moment he seemed to be back at home with a bad headache, and his mother passing softly to and fro, while kitty, full of sympathy, kept soaking handkerchiefs in vinegar and water to cool his heated brow. then, as he lay with his eyes tightly closed, uncle josiah came into the room, and laid his hand pityingly upon his shoulder. don gazed up at him, to see that it was ngati's hideously tattooed countenance close to his, and he looked up confused and wondering at the great chief. then the recollection of the convicts came back, and a spasm of horror shot through his brain. if it was true, what would happen at the little farm? he raised himself upon his elbow, and pointed in the direction of the house. "ngati," he said excitedly, "danger!" the chief looked at him, then in the direction in which he pointed; but he could understand nothing, and don felt as if he were trying to get some great dog to comprehend his wishes. he had learned scores of maori words, but now that he wanted to use them, some would not come, and others would not fit. "ngati!" he cried again piteously, as he pointed toward the farm, "pakehas--bad pakehas." the chief could understand pakehas--white men, but he was rather hazy about bad, whether it did not mean good, and he gave a low grunt. "bad pakehas. fight. jem," panted don. ngati could see that something was wrong, but in his mind it seemed to be connected with his english friend's health, and he laid his hand upon don's burning brow. "bad pakehas--go!" cried don. "what shall i do? how am i to make him understand? pakehas. jem. help!" at that ngati seemed to have a glimmering of what his companion meant, and nodding quickly, he went off at a trot toward the farm. "he'll bring some one who can understand," said don to himself; and then he began to feel that, after all, it was a dream consequent upon his being so ill, and he lay back feeling more at ease, but only to jump up and stare wildly toward where the farm lay. for, all at once, there rose a shout, and directly after a shot was heard, followed by another and another. then all was still for a few minutes, till, as don lay gazing wildly toward where he had seen ngati disappear, he caught sight of a stooping figure, then of another and another, hurrying to reach cover; and as he recognised the convicts, he could make out that each man carried a gun. he was holding himself up by grasping the bough of a tree, and gazing wildly at mike and his brutal-looking friends; but they were looking in the direction of the farm as they passed, and they did not see him. then the agonising pain in his head seemed to rob him of the power to think, and he sank back among the ferns. don had some consciousness of hearing voices, and of feeling hands touching him; but it was all during a time of confusion, and when he looked round again with the power to think, he was facing a tiny unglazed window, the shutter which was used to close it standing below. he was lying on a rough bed formed of sacking spread over dried fern leaves, and the shed he was in had for furniture a rough table formed by nailing a couple of pieces of board across a tub, another tub with part of the side sawn out formed an armchair; and the walls were ornamented with bunches of seeds tied up and hung there for preservation, a saddle and bridle, and some garden tools neatly arranged in a corner. don lay wondering what it all meant, his eyes resting longest upon the open window, through which he could see the glorious sunshine, and the leaves moving in the gentle breeze. he felt very happy and comfortable, but when he tried to raise his head the effort was in vain, and this set him wondering again, till he closed his eyes and lay thinking. suddenly he unclosed them again to lie listening, feeling the while that he had been asleep, for close beside him there was some one whistling in a very low tone--quite a whisper of a whistle--a familiar old somersetshire melody, which seemed to carry him back to the sugar yard at bristol, where he had heard jem whistle that tune a score of times. this set him thinking of home, his mother, and cousin kitty. then of stern-looking uncle josiah, who, after all, did not seem to have been unkind. "poor mas' don! will he ever get well again?" a voice whispered close to his ear. "jem!" "oh, mas' don! oh! oh! oh! thank the great lord o' mussy. amen! amen! amen!" there was the sound of some one going down heavily upon his knees, a pair of clasped hands rested on don's breast; and, as he turned his eyes sidewise, he could see the top of jem's head as the bed shook, and there was the sound of some one sobbing violently, but in a choking, smothered way. "jem! is that you? what's the matter?" whispered don feebly. "and he says, `what's the matter?'" cried jem, raising his head, and bending over don. "dear lad, dear lad; how are you now?" "quite well, thank you, jem, only i can't lift up my head." "and don't you try, mas' don. oh, the lord be thanked! the lord be thanked!" he muttered. "what should i ha' done?" "have--have i been ill, jem?" "i'll, mas' don? why, i thought you was going to die, and no doctor, not even a drop of salts and senny to save your life." "oh, nonsense, jem! i never thought of doing such a thing! ah, i remember now. i felt poorly. my head was bad." "your head bad? i should think it was bad. dear lad, what stuff you have been saying." "have i, jem? what, since i lay down among the ferns this morning?" "this morning, mas' don! why, it's close upon a month ago." "what?" "that's so, my lad. we come back from cutting wood to find you lying under a tree, and when we got here it was to find poor old `my pakeha' with a shot-hole in him, and his head all beaten about with big clubs." "oh, jem!" "that's so, mas' don." "is he better?" "oh, yes; he's getting better. i don't think you could kill him. sort o' chap that if you cut him to pieces some bit or another would be sure to grow again." "why, it was mike bannock and those wretches, jem." "that's what we thought, my lad, but we couldn't find out. it was some one, and whoever it was took away three guns." "i saw them, jem." "you see 'em?" "yes, as i lay back with my head so bad that i couldn't be sure." "ah, well, they found us out, and they've got their guns again; but they give it to poor ngati awful." just then the window was darkened by a hideous-looking face, which disappeared directly. then steps were heard, and the great chief came in, bending low to avoid striking his head against the roof till he reached the rough bedside, where he bent over don, and patted him gently, saying softly, "my pakeha." chapter fifty three. don speaks out. a healthy young constitution helped don lavington through his perilous illness, and in another fortnight he was about the farm, helping in any little way he could. "i'm very sorry, mr gordon," said don one evening to the young settler. "sorry? what for, my lad?" he said. "for bringing those convicts after us to your place, and for being ill and giving you so much trouble." "nonsense, my lad! i did begin to grumble once when i thought you were going to be ungrateful to me for taking you in." "ungrateful!" "yes, ungrateful, and trying to die." "oh!" said don smiling. "nice mess i should have been in if you had. no church, no clergyman, no doctor, no sexton. why, you young dog, it would have been cruel." don smiled sadly. "i am really very grateful, sir; i am indeed, and i think by to-morrow or next day i shall be strong enough to go." "what, and leave me in the lurch just as i'm so busy! why, with the thought of having you fellows here, i've been fencing in pieces and making no end of improvements. that big maori can cut down as much wood as two men, and as for jem wimble, he's the handiest fellow i ever saw." "i am very glad they have been of use, sir. i wish i could be." "you're right enough, boy. stop six months--a year altogether--and i shall be very glad of your help." this set don at rest, and he brightened up wonderfully, making great strides during the next fortnight, and feeling almost himself, till, one evening as he was returning from where he had been helping jem and ngati cut up wood for fencing, he fancied he saw some animal creeping through the ferns. a minute's watching convinced him that this was a fact, but he could not make out what it was. soon after, as they were seated at their evening meal, he mentioned what he had seen. "one of the sheep got loose," said gordon. "no, it was not a sheep." "well, what could it have been? there are no animals here, hardly, except the pigs which have run wild." "it looked as big as a sheep, but it was not a pig," said don thoughtfully. "could it have been a man going on all fours?" "hullo! what's the matter?" cried gordon looking up sharply, as one of his two neighbours came to the door with his wife. "well, i doan't know," said the settler. "my wife says she is sure she saw a savage creeping along through the bush behind our place." "there!" said don excitedly. "here's t'others coming," said jem. for at that moment the other settler, whose log-house was a hundred yards below, came up at a trot, gun in hand, in company with his wife and sister. "here, look sharp, gordon," he said; "there's a party out on a raid. we came up here, for we had better join hands." "of course," said gordon. "come in; but i think you are frightening yourselves at shadows, and--" he stopped short, for jem wimble dashed at the door and banged it to just as ngati sprang to the corner of the big log kitchen and caught up a spear. "mike and them two beauties, mas' don!" cried jem. "then it's war, is it?" said gordon grimly, as he reconnoitred from the window. "eight--ten--twelve--about thirty maori savages, and three white ones. hand round the guns, don lavington. you can shoot, can't you?" "yes, a little." "that's right. can we depend on ngati? if we can't, he'd better go." "i'll answer for him," said don. "all right!" said gordon. "look here, ngati,"--he pointed out of the window and then tapped the spear--"bad pakehas, bad--bad, kill." ngati grunted, and his eyes flashed. "kill pakehas--bad pakehas," he said in a deep, fierce voice. "kill!" then tapping the englishmen one by one on the shoulder, "pakeha good," he said smiling, and then taking don by the arm, "my pakeha," he added. "that's all right, sir," said jem; "he understands." "now then, quick! make everything fast. we can keep them out so long as they don't try fire. and look here, i hate bloodshed, neighbours, but those convict scoundrels have raised these poor savages up against us for the sake of plunder. recollect, we are fighting for our homes-- to defend the women." a low, angry murmur arose as the guns were quickly examined, ammunition placed ready, and the rough, strong door barricaded with boxes and tubs, the women being sent up a rough ladder through a trap-door to huddle together in the roof, where they would be in safety. "so long as they don't set us afire, mas' don," whispered jem. "what's that?" said gordon sharply. "jem fears fire," said don. "so do i, my lad, so we must keep them at a distance; and if they do fire us run all together to the next house, and defend that." fortunately for the defenders of the place there were but three windows, and they were small, and made good loop-holes from which to fire when the enemy came on. the settlers defended the front of the house, and don, jem and ngati were sent to the back, greatly to jem's disappointment. "we sha'n't see any of the fun, mas' don," he whispered, and then remained silent, for a shout arose, and they recognised the voice as that of mike bannock. "now then you," he shouted, "open the door, and give in quietly. if you do, you sha'n't be hurt. if you make a fight of it, no one will be left alive." "look here!" shouted back gordon; "i warn you all that the first man who comes a step farther may lose his life. go on about your business before help comes and you are caught." "no help for a hundred miles, matey," said the savage-looking convict; "so give in. we want all you've got there, and what's more, we mean to have it. will you surrender?" for answer gordon thrust out his gun-barrel, and the convicts drew back a few yards, and conversed together before disappearing with their savage followers into the bush. "have we scared them off?" said gordon to one of the settlers, after ten minutes had passed without a sign. "i don't know," said the other. "i can't help thinking--" "look out, mas' don!" _bang_! _bang_! two reports from muskets at the back of the house, where the attacking party had suddenly shown themselves, thinking it the weakest part; and after the two shots about a dozen maoris dashed at the little window, and tried to get in, forcing their spears through to keep the defenders at a distance; and had not ngati's spear played its part, darting swiftly about like the sting of some monster, the lithe, active fellows would, soon have forced their way in. directly after, the fight began at the front, the firing growing hot, and not without effect, for one of the settlers went down with a musket bullet in his shoulder, and soon after gordon stood back, holding his arm for don to bind it up with a strip off a towel. "only a spear prick," he said coolly, as he took aim with his gun directly after; and for about an hour the fight raged fiercely, with wounds given and taken, but no material advantage on either side. "be careful and make every shot tell," said gordon, as it was rapidly growing dark; then backing to the inner door as he reloaded, he spoke for a few seconds to don. "we shall beat them off, sir," said don cheerily. "yes, i hope so, my lad," said the settler calmly. "you see you are of great use." "no, sir; it's all my fault," replied don. "mas' don," whispered jem, as don returned, "look out of the window; mind the spears; then tell me what you see." "fire!" said don after a momentary examination. he was quite right. a fire had been lit in the forest at the back, and ten minutes after, as mike bannock's voice could be heard cheering them, the maoris came on, hurling burning branches on to the roof of the little log-house. for a few minutes there was no result. then there arose a yell, for the roof had caught, the resinous pine burned strongly, the smoke began to curl in between the rafters, and the women were helped down. to extinguish the flames was impossible, and would even have been as vain a task had they been outside ready with water. "how long will she last before she comes down?" said one of the settlers. "we can stop in here for a quarter, perhaps half an hour longer," said gordon; "and then we must make a dash for your place." "yes," said the settler, "and they know it. look!" by the increasing light from the burning house, the savages could be seen with their white leaders preparing for a rush. just then don and his two companions were forced to leave the little lean-to, whose roof was burning furiously, and it was only by closing the rough door of communication that the besieged were able to remain in the big kitchen. "it won't last five minutes, my lads," said gordon. "be ready, women. i'll throw open the door. we men will rush out and form up. you women run down to the right and make for smith's. we shall give them a volley to check them, and run after you." "ready?" "ay." "all loaded?" "ay," came in a deep despairing growl. "down with these boxes and tubs then. you, don, you are young and weak; go with the women." "no," said don; "i shall go with you men." "brayvo, mas' don!" whispered jem. "what a while they are opening that door! we shall be roasted, my lad, after all, and these wretches 'll pick our bones." the door was flung open, and the enemy uttered a yell of delight as the little party of whites ran out of the burning house. "now, women!" cried gordon. "no: stop!" roared don. _crash_! a heavy volley from the right, and the besiegers made a rush for the left. _crash_! a heavy volley met them on the left, fired diagonally from half behind the blazing house. then there was a cheer, echoed by a second, and two parties of blue-jackets were in among the maoris, who fled, leaving half their number wounded and prisoners on the ground, while don and his friends helped the women out into the open, away from the signs of bloodshed, which looked horrible in the light from the blazing house. "a little too late," said the officer in command of the detachment. "too late to save my house, sir, but in time to save our lives," said gordon, grasping his hand. "i wish i had been sooner; but it's rough work travelling through the bush, and we should not have come, only we heard the shouting, and saw the glow of your burning house." no time was lost in trying to extinguish the fire after a guard had been set over the prisoners, the men under the officers' orders working hard with the few buckets at command; but the place was built of inflammable pine, which flared up fiercely, and after about a quarter of an hour's effort gordon protested against further toil. "it's of no use, sir," he said. "all labour in vain. i've not lost much, for my furniture was only home made." "i'm sorry to give up, but it is useless," said the officer. jem crept close up to his companion. "i say, mas' don, i thought it was some of our chaps from the sloop at first, but they're from the _vixen_ frigate. think they'll find us out?" "i hope not, jem," replied don; "surely they will not press us again." "let's be off into the bush till they're gone." "no," said don; "i'm sorry i left the ship as i did. we will not run away again." meanwhile preparations were made for bivouacking, the officer determining to rest where they were that night; and after seeing his men stored in two of the barns, and sentries placed over the prisoners in another, at one of the settlers' places, one log-house being given up to the wounded, he joined the little english gathering, where the settlers' wives, as soon as the danger was past, had prepared a comfortable meal. after an uneventful night, the morning broke cheerily over the tiny settlement, where the only trace of the attack was at gordon's, whose rough log-house was now a heap of smoking ashes. the sailors had breakfasted well, thanks to the settlers' wives, and were now drawn up, all but the prisoners' guard, while the officer stood talking to gordon and his neighbours with don and jem standing close by; for in spite of jem's reiterated appeals, his companion refused to take to the bush. "no, jem," don said stubbornly; "it would be cowardly, and we're cowards enough." "but s'pose they find us out? that there officer's sure to smell as we're salts." "smell? nonsense!" "he will, mas' don. i'm that soaked with stockholm tar that i can smell myself like a tub." "nonsense!" "but if they find out as we deserted, they'll hang us." "i don't believe it, jem." "well, you'll see, mas' don; so if they hang you, don't you blame me." "well, mr gordon, we must be off," said the officer. "thank you once more for all your hospitality." "god bless you, sir, and all your men, for saving our lives," said the settler warmly; and there was a chorus of thanks from the other settlers and their wives. "nonsense, my dear sir; only our duty!" said the officer heartily. "and now about our prisoners. i don't know what to do about the maoris. i don't want to shoot them, and i certainly don't want to march them with us down to where the ship lies. what would you do, mr gordon?" "i should give them a knife apiece, shake hands with them, and let them go." "what, to come back with the said knives, and kill you all when we're gone!" "they will not come back if you take away the scoundrels who led them on," said don sharply. "how do you know?" said the officer good-humouredly. "because," said don, colouring, "i have been living a good deal with them, both with a friendly tribe and as a prisoner." "and they did not eat you?" said the officer laughing. "there, mas' don," whispered jem, "hear that?" "i think you are right, youngster," continued the officer, "and i shall do so. mr dillon, bring up the prisoners." this was to a master's mate, who led off a guard, and returned with the captives bound hands behind, and the maoris looking sullen and haughty, while the three whites appeared at their very worst--a trio of the most vile, unkempt scoundrels possible to see. they were led to the front, scowling at every one in turn, and halted in front of the officer, who, after whispering to the master's mate, gave orders to one of the seamen. this man pulled out his great jack knife, opened it, and being a bit of a joker, advanced toward the maoris, grinding his teeth and rolling his eyes. the savages saw his every act, and there was a slight tremor that seemed to run through them all; but the next instant they had drawn themselves up stern and defiant, ready to meet their fate at the seaman's knife. "no, no. no, pakeha. no kill," said a deep angry voice; and as every one turned, ngati stalked forward as if to defend his enemies. but at the same moment the man had cut the first maori's bands, and then went on behind the rank, cutting the line that bound seven, who stood staring wildly. the next minute a seaman came along bearing a sheaf of spears, which he handed, one by one, to the astonished savages, while their wonder reached its height, as the master's mate presented to each a knife, such as were brought for presents to the natives. "now," said the officer, addressing them, "i don't understand you, and i don't suppose you understand my words; but you do my deeds. then, in the king's name, you are free; and if you ever take any english prisoners, i hope you will behave as well to them as we have behaved to you. there, go." he finished by pointing away to the north; but instead of going they stood staring till ngati came forward, and said a few words in their own tongue. the effect was electric; they all shouted, brandished their spears, danced wildly, and ended by throwing down their weapons before the officer, seizing him by the arms, and rubbing noses with him. he submitted laughingly till the maoris picked up their spears, and stood looking on, apparently quite satisfied that they were safe. "here, hi, jack!" cried a hoarse brutal voice. "look sharp, we want to get rid of these cords; where's your knife?" "wait a little while, my friends," said the officer sarcastically; "as soon as we get to the ship, you shall have them changed for irons." "whorrt!" cried mike. "we were out in search of three convicts who murdered a couple of the guard, and escaped from norfolk island in a boat. i have fallen upon you by accident, and i have you safe." "norfolk island! where's norfolk island, mate?" said mike coolly. "never heard o' no such place," said his vilest-looking companion, gruffly. "memory's short, perhaps," said the officer. "but convicts; we're not convicts," growled mike. "gentlemen, p'r'aps, on your travels?" "yes, that's it," said mike with effrontery. "ah! well then, i shall have to take you on beard his majesty's ship _vixen_, where you will probably be hung at the yard-arm for inciting the ignorant maoris to attack peaceful settlers. forward, my lads!" "here stop!" roared mike with a savage grin. "what for?" said the officer sternly. "arn't you going to take them, too?" "take whom--the maoris? no; but for you they would have let these people be in peace. forward!" "no, no; i mean them two," said mike savagely, as he pointed--"them two: don lavington and jem wimble." "halt!" cried the officer. "do you know these men?" he said suspiciously. "there, i told you so, mas' don," whispered jem. "i know that man," said don firmly. "i only know the others by their making us prisoners out in the bush." "where did you know him?" said the officer--"norfolk island?" "no, sir; at bristol. he worked as labourer in my uncle's yard." "that's right enough," said mike; "and him and jem wimble was pressed, and went to sea." "ay, ay!" said the officer quickly. "and they deserted, and took to the bush." "hah!" ejaculated the officer. "from the sloop of war. the captain asked us to keep an eye open for two lads who had deserted." "hor--hor--hor!" laughed mike maliciously; "and now you've got 'em; mr gentleman don and master jemmy wimble." "if your hands warn't tied," cried jem fiercely, "i'd punch your ugly head!" "is this true, young man?" said the officer sternly. "did you desert from his majesty's sloop?" don was silent for a moment, and then stepped forward boldly. "yes!" he said. "ah, mas' don, you've done it now," whispered jem. "i was cruelly seized, beaten, and dragged away from my home, and jem here from his young wife. on board ship we were ill-used and persecuted; and i'm not ashamed to own it, i did leave the ship." "yes, and so did i!" said jem stoutly. "humph! then i'm afraid you will have to go with me as prisoners!" said the officer. "hor--hor--hor! here's a game! prisoners! cat-o'-nine tails, or hanging." "silence, you scoundrel!" roared the officer. "forward with these prisoners." mike and his companions were marched on out of hearing, and then, after a turn or two, the officer spoke. "it is true then, my lads, you deserted your ship?" "i was forced to serve, sir, and i left the ship," said don firmly. "well, sir, i have but one course to pursue." "surely you will not take them as prisoners, sir?" cried gordon warmly--"as brave, true fellows as ever stepped." "i can believe that," said the officer; "but discipline must be maintained. look here, my lads: i will serve you if i can. you made a great mistake in deserting. i detest pressing men; but it is done, and it is not my duty to oppose the proceeding. now, will you take my advice?" "what is it, sir?" "throw yourself on our captain's mercy. your ship has sailed for china; we are going home short-handed. volunteer to serve the king till the ship is paid off, and perhaps you will never hear of having deserted. what do you say?" "the same as jem wimble does, sir. i can volunteer, and fight, if you like; but i can't bear to be forced." "well said!" cried the officer, smiling at don's bit of grandiloquence; and, an hour later, after an affectionate parting from ngati, who elected to stay with gordon, don and jem were jacks once more, marching cheerily with the main body, half a mile behind the guard in charge of the convicts. chapter fifty four. home. it was a non-adventurous voyage home, after the convicts had been placed in the hands of the authorities at port jackson; and one soft summer evening, after a run by coach from plymouth, two sturdy-looking brown young sailors leaped down in front of the old coaching hotel, and almost ran along the busy bristol streets to reach the familiar spots where so much of their lives had been passed. don was panting to get back into his mother's arms, but they had to pass the warehouse, and as they reached the gates jem began to tremble. "no, no; don't go by, mas' don. i dursen't go alone." "what, not to meet your own wife?" "no, mas' don; 'tarn't that. i'm feared she's gone no one knows where. stand by me while i ask, mas' don." "no, no, jem. i must get home." "we've stood by one another, mas' don, in many a fight and at sea, and on shore. don't forsake your mate now." "i'll stay, jem," said don. "mas' don, you are a good one!" cried jem. "would you mind pulling the bell--werry gently? my hand shakes so, i shall make a noise." don gave the bell a tremendous peal, when jem looked at him reproachfully, and seemed ready to run away, as the lesser gate was snatched angrily open, and a shrill voice began,-- "what d'you mean by ringing like--" "sally!" "jem!" don gave jem a push in the back, which sent him forward into the yard, pulled the gate to, and ran on as hard as he could to his uncle's house. he had laughed at jem when he said his hand trembled, but his own shook as he took hold of the knocker, and gave the most comical double rap ever thumped upon a big front door. there was a click; the door was thrown open by one who had seen the brown young sailor pass the window, and don lavington was tightly held in his mother's arms, while two little hands held his, and kitty jumped up to get a kiss placed upon his cheek. the explanations were in full swing as, unheard by those in the parlour, the front door was opened by a latch-key, and that of the parlour followed suit, for uncle josiah to stand looking smilingly at the group before him. when at last he was seen, don started up and gazed dubiously in the grave, stern face before him, recalling in those brief moments scene after scene in the past, when he and his uncle had been, as jem expressed it, "at loggerheads again," and his life had seemed to him a time of misery and care. his first coherent thoughts were as to what he should say--how he should enter into full explanations of his movements since that eventful night when he encountered the press-gang. it was better to attack, he thought, than to await the coming on of his adversary, and he had just made up his mind to the former course of action, when all his plans and words were blown to the wind, and there was no need for either attack or defence, for the old man advanced with extended hand. "don, my lad," he said quietly, "i've felt the want of you badly at the office. glad to see you back." "i ought to tell you, sir--" "ah, well explain all by-and-by, my boy," said the old man. "i know that you can't have been to blame; and, look here, time back you were as stubborn as could be, and thought you were ill-used, and that i was your enemy. you've been round the world since then, and you are bigger, and broader, and wiser now than you were." "i hope so, uncle." "and you don't believe that i ever was your enemy?" "i believe, uncle, that i was very foolish, and--and--" "that's enough. p'r'aps i was a bit too hard, but not so hard as they are at sea. you haven't got to go again?" "no, uncle." "then god bless you, my boy! i'm glad to have you back." don could not speak, only hold his weeping mother to his breast. it was some time before don was able to begin his explanations, and the account of what had passed; and when he did it was with his mother sitting on his right, holding his hand in both of hers, and with his cousin seated upon his left, following her aunt's suit, while the old bristol merchant lay back in his chair smoking his evening pipe, a grim smile upon his lips, but a look of pride in his eyes as if he did not at all disapprove of don's conduct when he was at sea. "but i ought not to have deserted uncle?" said don, interrogatively. "well, my boy," said the old merchant thoughtfully, taking his pipe out of his mouth, and rubbing his stubbly cheek with the waxy end, "i hardly know what to say about that, so we'll let it rest." "confound all press-gangs!" said uncle josiah that night, as they were parting for bed. "but i don't know, don, perhaps this one was a blessing in disguise." "then i hope, uncle, that the next blessing will come without any disguise at all. but, mother, you found my bundle?" "your bundle, my dear?" "the one i threw up on the top of the bed-tester, when i was foolish enough to think of running away." "my dear don, no." they went to the chamber; don leaped on the edge of the bed, reached over, and brought down the bundle all covered with flue. "don, my darling!" "but i had repented, mother, and--" "hush! no more," said uncle josiah firmly; "the past is gone. here's to a happy future, my boy. good-night." the end. [illustration] maori and settler a story of the new zealand war by g. a. henty maori and settler g.a. henty's books illustrated by eminent artists _uniform with this edition_ beric the briton: a story of the roman invasion of britain. bonnie prince charlie: a tale of fontenoy and culloden. both sides the border: a tale of hotspur and glendower. by conduct and courage: a story of the days of nelson. by england's aid: the freeing of the netherlands. by pike and dyke: a tale of the rise of the dutch republic. facing death: a tale of the coal-mines. in the heart of the rockies: a story of adventure in colorado. maori and settler: a story of the new zealand war. st. bartholomew's eve: a tale of the huguenot wars. st. george for england: a tale of cressy and poitiers. the cat of bubastes: a story of ancient egypt. the dragon and the raven: the days of king alfred. the treasure of the incas: a tale of adventure in peru. under wellington's command: a tale of the peninsular war. with lee in virginia: a story of the american civil war. with wolfe in canada; or, the winning of a continent. wulf the saxon: a story of the norman conquest. london: blackie and son, ltd., old baily, e.c. [illustration: "drop that or i fire!" _page _] maori and settler a story of the new zealand war by g.a. henty author of "redskin and cowboy" "in freedom's cause" "bonnie prince charlie" &c. _illustrated_ blackie and son limited london glasgow and bombay _printed in great britain_ preface to the original edition in the following story i have made no attempt to give anything like a general history of the long struggle between the brave tribes of new zealand and the forces of england and the colony. that struggle lasted over a period of some years, and to do justice to its numerous incidents in the course of a single volume would have left no space whatever available for the telling of a story. it was divided into two distinct epochs. in the first the natives of the north of the islands fought for their independence and their right to have a king, and be governed by their own laws. nothing could exceed the courage with which they struggled for these ends, and it needed a very strong force of british troops to storm their pahs or fortified camps, and overcome their resistance. the second epoch embraces the struggle brought about by the conversion of a portion of the tribes to the fanatical belief called the pai marire (literally "good and peaceful"), whose votaries were generally known as the hau-haus. during the earlier war the natives behaved with great moderation, and there were but few cases of the murder of outlying settlers. the slaying of all whites was, however, the leading feature of the hau-hau religion, and many cold-blooded massacres occurred during the struggle. the british troops had been for the most part withdrawn before the commencement of the hau-hau troubles, and the war was carried on by bodies of constabulary raised by the colonists, and with the aid of tribes that remained friendly to us. the massacre of poverty bay, which forms the leading feature of my story, and the events that followed it, are all strictly in accordance with facts. g.a. henty contents. chap. page i. a home broken up, ii. the embarkation, iii. the voyage, iv. a row on shore, v. a boat expedition, vi. putting in the refit, vii. a savage surprise, viii. the end of the voyage, ix. the new zealand war, x. the glade, xi. the hau-haus, xii. the first alarm, xiii. the attack on the glade, xiv. fresh troubles, xv. the massacre at poverty bay, xvi. the pursuit of te kooti, xvii. back at the farm, xviii. in england, illustrations facing page "drop that or i fire!" _frontispiece_ a dozen spears struck the water round her wilfrid and the grimstones find it hard work mr. atherton keeps the mouth of the defile "i am afraid i am heavy on a horse still, wilfrid" * * * * * map of hawke bay, poverty bay, and surrounding country maori and settler. chapter i. a home broken up. "well, mother, one thing is certain--something has got to be done. it is no use crying over spilt milk, that i can see. it is a horribly bad business, but grieving over it won't make it any better. what one has got to do is to decide on some plan or other, and then set to work to carry it out." the speaker, wilfrid renshaw, was a boy between fifteen and sixteen years old. he was standing with his back to an empty fireplace, his feet well apart, his hands deep in his pockets. he was rather short for his age, but very squarely built. his hair was dark, cut rather short, and so ruffled over his head that there were no signs of a parting; his eyebrows were heavy, his eyes bright but rather deeply set; his chin was square and his jaw heavy; his nose was a little upturned, and this together with his eyes gave a merry expression to a face that would otherwise have been heavy and stern. at school wilfrid renshaw had been regarded as rather a queer fellow. he was full of quiet fun, and saw a humorous side in everything. he did not take a very leading part in the various school sports, though there was a general idea that if renshaw only chose to exert himself he could excel in any of them. in point of actual strength, although there were several boys in the school older than himself, it was generally admitted that he was by far the strongest there. but he always went his own way and always knew his own mind, and when he had once given his decision every one knew that it was of no use attempting to alter it; indeed, his reputation for obstinacy was so great that when he had once said "i won't" or "i will," no one ever attempted to argue with him. he was given to long walks and to collecting insects or flowers. he could never be persuaded to make one of the cricket eleven; but in winter, when there was little scope for his favourite pursuit, he threw himself into football; and although he absolutely refused to accept the captaincy when unanimously elected to that honour, he was considered by far the most valuable member of the team. he was scarcely popular among the boys of his own age; for although his fun and general good temper were appreciated by them, his determination to go his own way, and his entire disregard for the opinion of others, caused him to be considered an unsociable sort of fellow, an impression increased by the fact that he had no particular chums. among the smaller boys he was greatly liked. he would never allow any bullying when he was present; and although his interference was often resented by some of the elders, his reputation for strength and obstinacy was so great that he had never been called upon to take active measures to support his decisively expressed opinions. his father lived in a pretty house a quarter of a mile outside reading; and as wilfrid attended the grammar-school there, he was much more free to indulge his own tastes and go his own way than if he had been in a boarding-school. his chief companion in his rambles was his only sister marion, who was a year his senior, although strangers would not have taken her to be so, either from her appearance or manner. she had an active lithe figure, and was able to keep up with him even during his longest excursions. they were in fact great chums and allies, and marion would have indignantly scouted the idea had anyone suggested to her that her brother was either obstinate or unsociable. mr. renshaw had been intended for the bar, and had indeed been called to that profession; but shortly afterwards he came into a fortune at the death of his father, and at once abandoned all idea of practising. after travelling for a few years on the continent and in the east, he married and settled down near reading. his time was for the most part devoted to archæology. he had a rare collection of ancient british, saxon, and norman arms, ornaments, and remains of all sorts; had written several books on the antiquities of berkshire and oxfordshire; was an authority upon tumuli and stone weapons; and was regarded by his acquaintances as a man of much learning. the management of the house and children, and indeed of all affairs unconnected with his favourite hobby, he left to his wife, who was, fortunately for him, a clear-headed and sensible woman. mr. renshaw was, in fact, an eminently impractical man, weak and easy in disposition, averse to exertion of any kind, and without a shadow of the decision of character that distinguished his son. except when away upon antiquarian excursions he passed his time entirely in his own study, engaged upon a work which, he anticipated, would gain for him a very high position among the antiquarians of the country, the subject being the exact spot at which julius cæsar landed in britain. he made his appearance only at meal-times, and then paid but little attention to what was going on around him, although he was kind to his children in a gentle indifferent sort of way. for many years he had been engaged in making up his mind as to the school to which wilfrid should be sent; and the boy had at first only been sent to the grammar-school at the suggestion of his mother as a temporary measure until the important decision should be arrived at. this had been six years before, and mr. renshaw had postponed his decision until it was too late for wilfrid to enter at any of the great public schools. knowing from long experience what would be the result were he consulted as to marion's education, mrs. renshaw had, when the girl was nine years old, engaged a governess for her without any previous consultation with her husband, simply telling him of the arrangement after it was concluded, saying: "i know, alfred, that you have not yet decided whether an education at home or at school is best for a girl, and i have consequently arranged with a young lady to come as governess until you can come to a conclusion upon the point." wilfrid renshaw was extremely fond of his mother. his father he regarded with a somewhat contemptuous kind of affection. he did not doubt that he was a very learned man, but he had small patience with his inability to make up his mind, his total want of energy, and his habit of leaving everything for his wife to decide upon and carry out. "it would do father an immense deal of good if something were to happen that would wake him up a bit and get him to take an interest in things," he had said over and over again to marion. "i cannot understand a man having no opinion of his own about anything." "i do not think you ought to speak in that sort of way, wil, about father." "oh, that is all nonsense, marion. one cannot be blind about a person even if he is one's own father. of course he is very kind and very indulgent, but it would be very much pleasanter if he were so because he wished to give us pleasure, instead of because it is the easiest thing to do. i should be downright pleased if sometimes when i ask him for anything he would say positively i could not have it." now the something that wilfrid had hoped might occur to rouse his father had taken place, and had come in a form very unpleasantly violent and unexpected. the papers a week before had brought the news of the failure of the bank in which the greater portion of mr. renshaw's property was invested, and a letter had the following morning been received from a brother of mrs. renshaw, who was also a shareholder in the bank, saying that the liabilities were very large, and that the shareholders would undoubtedly be called upon to pay even their last penny to make up the deficiency. this news had been confirmed, and there could be no doubt absolute ruin had fallen upon them. mr. renshaw had been completely overwhelmed by the tidings, and had taken to his bed. wilfrid's holidays had begun a few days before, and his mother at once acquainted him with the misfortune that had befallen them, and she now told him that the calls that would be made upon the shares would more than swallow up the rest of their fortune. "there will be absolutely nothing remaining, wilfrid, except a thousand pounds that i had at my marriage, and which were fortunately settled upon me. this cannot be touched. everything else will have to go." "well, it's a bad business, mother. i will go for a walk and think it over. marion, put on your hat and come out with me." they had been for their walk--a long one, and he was now expressing the result at which they had arrived. "one thing is certain--something has got to be done." "yes," mrs. renshaw replied with a faint smile. "the question is, what is it?" "well, mother, it is quite certain that we four cannot live on the interest of a thousand pounds unless we go into a hovel and live on bread and water." "i quite see that, wilfrid; but i am sure i do not see how we are to earn money. it is far too late for your father to go back to the bar now, and it might be years before he got a brief. at any rate, we could not afford to live in london till he does so. i have been thinking i might open a little school somewhere." [illustration: sketch map of wairoa and poverty bay districts north island, new zealand] the boy waved his hand. "no, mother, you are not going to take us all on to your shoulders. you have got to look after father; that will be a full share of the work, i am sure. marion and i have been talking it over, and the only possible thing we can see is for us to emigrate." "to emigrate!" mrs. renshaw repeated in astonishment. "why, my dear boy, what should we be fit for in the colonies more than here?" "a good deal, mother. a thousand pounds is nothing here, and it would be a good deal out there. it would be horrible to come down to live in a little cottage like working people here, after living like this; but it would be nothing out there. we could buy land for next to nothing in new zealand, and could employ a couple of men to work with me to clear it and cultivate it; and get a few cows and sheep to start with, and still have a little money in hand. you and marion could look after things indoors; i should look after things out of doors." "you don't seem to count your father at all," mrs. renshaw said a little reproachfully. "no, mother, i don't," wilfrid said bluntly. "you know as well as i do that father would be of no use to speak of in a life like that. still, i think he could make himself happy out there as well as here. he could take all his books with him, and could inquire into the manners and customs of the natives, who are every bit as good as the ancient britons; better, i should say. but whatever we do, mother, whether it is here or anywhere else, we must settle upon it and do it. of course we must consult him; but we must quite make up our minds before we do so. if you wait a few weeks for father to make up his mind what we had better do, we shall wait till this thousand pounds is spent and there is nothing to do but to go into the workhouse. "i am sure that my plan is the best for us. i am as strong as a great many men; and anyhow, out there, there ought to be no fear about our keeping ourselves. i have no doubt that when we get out there father will be able to help in many ways, though i do not know at present what they are. anyhow, we shall have a house to live in, even if it is only a log hut, and i have no doubt have plenty to eat and drink; and that is more than we shall do if we stay here. i could not earn anything to speak of here: the most i could expect to get would be ten shillings a week as an office-boy. and as to your idea of a school, you might be years before you got pupils; and, besides, when there are two men in a family it would be shameful to depend upon a woman to keep them." "why do you think of new zealand more than canada, wil?" "because, in the first place, the climate is a great deal pleasanter, and, in the second place, i believe that as the passage-money is higher the emigrants are of a better class, and we are likely to have more pleasant neighbours--people that you and father can associate with--than we should have if we went to a backwood clearing in canada. tom fairfax has an uncle in new zealand, and i have heard him say there are lots of officers in the army and people of that sort who have settled there. of course i know it is going to be hard work, and that it will be very rough for you and father when we land at first, but i expect it will be better after a time; and anyhow, mother, i do not think we can starve there, and i feel sure that it will come to that if we stop here. at any rate, you had better think it over. "of course if you hit on anything better i shall be ready to agree at once; but whatever it is we must quite make up our minds together and then tell father. but when we do tell him we shall have to say that we are quite convinced that the plan we have fixed on is the only one that offers a hope of success. of course i do not expect that he will see it as we do, but if we put it that if he can suggest anything better to be done we will set about it at once, i think he's pretty certain to let things go on as we arrange. i do not mean to speak disrespectfully of father," he went on seeing that his mother's face was a little clouded "but you know, mother, that people who are learned, scientific, and all that sort of thing are very often bad hands at everyday matters. sir isaac newton, and lots of other fellows i have read about, were like that; and though father is a splendid hand at anything to do with the britons or danes, and can tell you the story of every old ruin in the kingdom, he is no good about practical matters. so that we take all the trouble off his hands, i think he will be quite ready to agree to do whatever you think is the best. at any rate, mother, i think my plan is well worth thinking over, and the sooner we make up our minds the better; after all it is a great thing having something to look forward to and plan about." three or four days later mrs. renshaw told wilfrid that think as she would she could see no better plan for utilizing her little capital than for them to emigrate. "it is putting great responsibility on your shoulders, my boy," she said; "for i do not disguise from myself that it is upon you that we must principally depend. still you will be sixteen by the time we can arrive there, and i think we should be able to manage. besides, as you say, we can hire a man or two to help, and shall have some money to fall back upon until things begin to pay. there are plenty of women who manage even without the assistance of a son, and i do not know why i should not be able to get on with you and marion to help me, especially as farming is a comparatively simple business, in a new country. at any rate, as you say, with two or three cows and plenty of ducks and hens, and what we can grow on the ground, there will be no fear of our starving." the next day mr. renshaw came downstairs for the first time since he had heard of the misfortune. he had received a letter that morning saying that a call was at once to be made on each shareholder for the amount still standing on each share, and this sum was in itself more than he could meet even after the sale of his house and its contents. he was in a state of profound depression. he had, while upstairs, been endeavouring to think of some means of supporting his family, but had been wholly unable to think of any plan whatever. he knew that at his age he should find it next to impossible to obtain employment, even as a clerk at the lowest salary; his knowledge of archæology would be absolutely useless to him, for the books he had already published had not even paid the expenses of printing. few words were spoken at breakfast, but when the meal was finished mrs. renshaw began: "my dear alfred, wilfrid and i have been talking over what we had better do under the circumstances. i have told him that the failure of the bank involves the loss of all our property, that the house will have to be sold, and that, in fact, there remains nothing but the thousand pounds of my settlement. we have talked it over in every light, and have quite arrived at the conclusion as to what we think the best thing to be done if you see matters in the same light and will consent to our plan. i had at first thought of starting a little school." "i would never agree to that," mr. renshaw said; "never. i must do something, my dear, though i have not made up my mind in what direction. but whatever it is, it is for me to work, and not for you." "well, we have already given up the idea," mrs. renshaw went on. "wilfrid was sure that you would not like it, and, as he pointed out, the money might be spent before i could obtain sufficient pupils to pay. besides, he is anxious to be of use; but the difficulty struck us of obtaining any kind of remunerative work here." "that is what i have been thinking," mr. renshaw said. "i shall be willing to work at anything in my power, but i don't see what possible work i can get." "quite so, my dear. in this country it is of course terribly difficult for anyone to get employment unless he has been trained in some particular line, therefore wil and i are agreed that the very best plan, indeed the only plan we can think of, is for us to go out to a new country. my little money will take us to new zealand, buy a good-sized piece of land there, and suffice to enable us to clear it and stock it to some extent. the life will no doubt be rough for us all for a time; but none of us will care for that, and at any rate we are sure to be able to keep the wolf from the door." "to new zealand!" mr. renshaw repeated aghast. "that is a terrible undertaking. besides, i know nothing whatever about farming, and i fear that i am quite unfit for hard work." "i do not think it will be at all necessary for you to work yourself, alfred. of course we can hire men there just as we can in england. i believe the natives are willing to work at very low rates of pay, so we need have no difficulty on that score. wilfrid is growing up now, and will soon be able to relieve you of all responsibility, and then you will be able to devote yourself to your favourite studies; and i should think that a book from your hand upon native manners and customs would be sure to be a great success. accustomed as you are to tracing things up from small remains, and with your knowledge of primitive peoples, your work would be very different from those written by men without any previous acquaintance with such matters." "the idea certainly pleases me," mr. renshaw said; "but, of course, i shall want time to think over your startling proposal, helen." "of course, my dear. in the meantime we will go on packing up and preparing to move at once from here, as you say that there must be a sale of everything; then you can think the matter over, and if you decide upon any better scheme than ours we can carry that out. if not, we shall be ready to put ours into execution." the next month was a busy one. there was great sympathy evinced by all the renshaw's neighbours and acquaintances when it was heard that their whole fortune was swept away by the failure of the bank. there were farewell visits to be paid, not only to these, but to their poorer neighbours. in answer to inquiries as to their plans, mr. renshaw always replied that at present nothing whatever was settled. mrs. renshaw hinted that, although their plans were not definitely fixed, she thought it probable that they would go abroad; while wilfrid and marion both informed their friends confidently that they were going to new zealand. the work of packing went on. a few articles of furniture that were special favourites with them all were packed up and sent to be warehoused in london, in order that they might some day be forwarded to them when they had made themselves a home; but nothing else was taken beyond their clothes, a good selection of books for their general reading, a large box of those which mr. renshaw declared absolutely indispensable to himself, and a few nick-nacks specially prized. everything else was handed over for sale for the benefit of the creditors of the bank. during these weeks mr. renshaw continued to speak as if he regarded the new zealand project as wholly impracticable, and on each occasion when he did so his wife replied cheerfully: "well, my dear, we are in no way wedded to it, and are quite ready to give it up and adopt any plan you may decide upon. the matter is entirely in your hands." but mr. renshaw could hit upon no other scheme; and, indeed, his wife's suggestion as to a book on the natives of new zealand had much taken his fancy. certainly he, a trained antiquarian, should be able to produce a book upon such a subject that would be of vastly greater value than those written by settlers and others having no training whatever that would qualify them for such work. it was probable that he should be able to throw some entirely new light upon the origin and history of the maoris or natives of new zealand, and that his book would greatly add to his reputation, and would sell well. really the idea was not such a very bad one, and, for himself, he should certainly prefer a life in a new country to shabby lodgings in some out-of-the-way place, after having for so many years been a personage of importance in his own neighbourhood. "i see one great objection to your scheme, helen, and that is that there is a war going on with the maoris." "i know there is," mrs. renshaw, who had talked the matter over with wilfrid, replied; "but it is confined to two or three of the tribes, and the settlers in other parts have been in no way disturbed. the troops have taken most of their strongholds, and the troubles are considered to be approaching an end; therefore i do not think there is any occasion to be uneasy on that score. besides, in some respects the trouble will be advantageous, as we should probably be able to buy land cheaper than we otherwise should have done, and the land will rapidly rise in value again when the disturbances are over. but, of course, we should not go to the disturbed districts. these are round auckland and new plymouth, and the troubles are confined to the tribes there. everything is perfectly peaceable along the other parts of the coast." it was not until two or three days before the move was to be made from the house that mrs. renshaw recurred to the subject. "you have not said yet, alfred, what plans you have decided upon. as we shall leave here in three days it is quite time that we made up our minds about it, as, of course, our movements must depend on your decision. if you have fixed upon any place for us to settle down in, it would be cheaper for us to move there at once instead of wasting money by going up to london first. another reason i have for asking is, that robert and william grimstone, the gardener's sons, who have got an idea from something wilfrid said to them that we might be going abroad, have asked him to ask you if you would take them with you. they have been working in the garden under their father for the last two or three years, and are strong active young fellows of nineteen and twenty. as their father has worked here ever since we came, and we have known the young fellows since they were children, such an arrangement would have been a very pleasant one had you liked my plan of emigrating, as it would have been much more agreeable having two young fellows we knew with us instead of strangers. of course i told wilfrid to tell them that nothing whatever was settled, and that our plans were not in any way formed, and that they had better, therefore, look out for situations about here, and that i was sure you would give them good letters of recommendation." mr. renshaw was silent. "i really do not see that there is any occasion to come to a decision in a hurry," he said irritably. "not in a hurry, alfred," his wife said quietly. "you see, we have had a month to think it over, and i do not see that we shall be more likely to settle upon an advantageous scheme at the end of six months than we are now. from the day we leave here and hand over everything to the receiver of the bank we shall be drawing on our little capital, and every pound is of importance. i think, therefore, alfred, that you and i should make up our minds before we leave here as to what course we are going to adopt. as i have said, i myself see no scheme by which we are likely to be able to maintain ourselves in england, even in a very humble way. a life in the colonies would, to me, be very much more pleasant than the struggle to make ends meet here. "it would afford an opening for wilfrid, and be vastly more advantageous for him than anything we should hope to get for him here; and i think it will be far better for marion too. of course, if we decided to emigrate, we could, should you prefer it, go to canada, australia, or the united states in preference to new zealand. i only incline to new zealand because i have heard that there is a larger proportion of officers and gentlemen there than in other colonies, and because i believe that the climate is a particularly pleasant one. but, of course, this is merely a suggestion at present, and it is for you to decide." "if we are to emigrate at all," mr. renshaw replied, "i should certainly prefer new zealand myself. the maoris are a most interesting people. their origin is a matter of doubt, their customs and religion are peculiar, and i have no doubt that i should, after studying them, be able to throw much new and valuable light upon the subject. personally, i am sure that i am in no way fitted for the life of a settler. i know nothing of farming, and could neither drive a plough nor wield an axe; but if i could make the native subject my own, i might probably be able to do my share towards our expenses by my books, while wilfrid could look after the men. the offer of these two young fellows to go with us has removed several of my objections to the plan, and i agree with you that it would be more advantageous for wilfrid and marion than to be living in wretched lodgings. therefore, my dear, i have decided to fall in with your plan, and only hope that it will turn out as well as you seem to expect. it will be a great change and a great trial; but since you seem to have set your heart upon it, i am willing to adopt your plans instead of my own, and we will therefore consider it settled that we will go to new zealand." mrs. renshaw was too wise a woman to point out that her husband had not, so far as she was aware, any plans whatever of his own, and she contented herself by saying quietly: "i am glad you have decided so, my dear. i do think it is the best thing for us all, and i am quite sure it is the best for wilfrid and marion. if it had not been for them i should have said let us take a tiny cottage near some town where i might add to our income by giving lessons in music or other things, and you might have the companionship of people of your own tastes; but, being as it is, i think it far better to give them a start in a new country, although i know that such a life as we shall lead there must entail, at any rate at first, some hardships, and the loss of much to which we have been accustomed." wilfrid and marion were delighted when they heard from their mother that the matter was settled. both had had great hopes that wilfrid's scheme would be finally accepted, as there did not seem any other plan that was possible. still wilfrid knew the difficulty that his father would have in making up his mind, and feared there might be a long delay before he could bring himself to accept the plan proposed to him. mrs. renshaw, who was a good business woman, lost no time in arranging with robert and william grimstone as to their accompanying them. their passage-money was to be paid, and they were to bind themselves to remain for three years in mr. renshaw's service on wages similar to those they would have obtained at home; after that, they were to be paid whatever might be the colonial rate of wages. the excitement that the prospect of emigration caused to the young people lessened their pain at leaving the house where they had been born and brought up, with all its pleasant associations and material comforts. it was, however, very trying to them when they bade good-bye for the last time to their surroundings and shook hands with their old servants. "if ever we get rich in new zealand, father," wilfrid said, "we will come back and buy the house again." mr. renshaw shook his head. just at present he was disposed to regard himself as a martyr, and considered that he had made an unprecedented sacrifice of his own wishes and comforts for the sake of his children, and that no good could be expected to arise from the plan to which he had consented. a good many friends had gathered at the station to say good-bye, and it was some time after the train had started on its way to london before any of the party felt themselves inclined to speak. on arriving in town they went at once to lodgings they had engaged in eastbourne terrace, facing the station. once settled there, no time was lost in making preparations for their voyage. the files of the advertisements had already been searched and the names of the vessels sailing for new zealand and the addresses of their owners noted, and after paying a visit to several shipping offices the choice of vessels remained at last between the _flying scud_ and the _mayflower_. they were vessels of about the same size, both bore a good reputation as sailers, and they heard excellent accounts of the captains who commanded them. the _mayflower_ was to sail direct to wellington round the cape. the _flying scud_ was taking in cargo for rio and buenos-ayres, and would proceed thence via cape horn. her rates of passage were somewhat lower than those of the _mayflower_, as the route via the cape of good hope was that more generally used, and the number of passengers who had secured berths by her were very much smaller than those who intended to travel by the _mayflower_. it was this that principally decided them in choosing the western route; mr. renshaw was in a depressed and nervous state, and his wife considered that he would be far more comfortable with a comparatively small number of fellow-passengers than in a crowded ship. marion quite agreed with her mother; and wilfrid was also in favour of the _flying scud_, as he thought it would be pleasant to break the passage by putting into the great south american ports and getting a glimpse of their inhabitants. mr. renshaw himself was quite satisfied to accept his wife's decision, whatever it might be. the _flying scud_ was therefore selected, and passages for the party secured in her. chapter ii. the embarkation. the _flying scud_ was to sail in ten days; and this was ample time for their preparations, for mrs. renshaw wisely decided that it was better to buy all that was requisite for starting their new life, in new zealand. "we have none of us the least idea what will be required," she said. "it will be far better to pay somewhat higher prices for what we really do want out there than to cumber ourselves with all sorts of things that may be useless to us. we have already a considerable amount of baggage. there are our clothes, linen, and books, your father's two double-barrelled guns, which, by the way, i do not think he has ever used since we have been married. the only thing we had better get, as far as i see, will be four rifles, which no doubt we can buy cheap second-hand, and four revolvers. "i do not for a moment suppose we shall ever want to use them, but as we may be often left in the house alone i think it would be pleasant to know that we are not altogether defenceless. we had better lay in a good stock of ammunition for all these weapons. besides the clothes we have we had better get serge dresses and suits for the voyage, and a few strong servicable gowns and suits for rough work out there. beyond this i do not think that we need spend a penny. we can certainly get everything we shall want for our new life at wellington, which is a large place." on the morning of the day on which they were to embark the grimstones came up from reading. all the heavy luggage had been sent on board ship on the previous day, and at twelve o'clock two cabs drove up to the side of the _flying scud_ in st. catherine's docks. the one contained mr. and mrs. renshaw, marion, and a vast quantity of small packets inside. wilfrid was on the box with the driver, and the roof was piled high with luggage. the other cab contained the two grimstones and the rest of the luggage. the renshaws were already acquainted with the ship in which they were to sail, having paid her a visit four days previously to see their cabins. the parents had a comfortable cabin to themselves. marion was berthed in a cabin with two other ladies, who, she learned, were sisters, the elder about her own age, and wilfrid found he would have but one fellow-passenger. the grimstones were in the steerage forward. the vessel was in a state of bustle, and what to the travellers seemed confusion. numbers of other passengers were arriving, and the deck was littered with, their luggage until it could be sorted and sent down to their cabins; late cargo was being swung on board and lowered into the hold. on the deck aft were gathered the cabin passengers, with relatives and friends who had come to see them off. an hour later the bell rang as a signal for all visitors to go ashore. there were sad partings both fore and aft as the bell clanged out its impatient signal. "i am very glad, mother, that we have no friends to say good-bye to us here, and that we got that all over at reading." "so am i, wil. i think it much better myself that these partings should be got through before people leave home. it is natural of course that relatives and friends should like to see the last of each other, but i think it is a cruel kindness, and am glad, as you say, that we had no dear friends in london. those at home have already shown their thoughtfulness and friendship." for indeed during the last few days hampers of presents of all kinds had arrived in a steady flow at eastbourne terrace. there had been great feeling of commiseration among all their acquaintances at the misfortune that had befallen the renshaws; and the manner in which they had at once surrendered everything for the benefit of the shareholders of the bank, and the calmness with which they had borne their reverses, had excited admiration, and scarce a friend or acquaintance but sent substantial tokens of their good-will or sympathy. as soon as it was publicly known that the renshaws were about to sail for new zealand, the boys and masters of the grammar-school between them subscribed and sent a handsome double-barrelled gun, a fishing-rod, and all appurtenances, to wilfrid. mr. renshaw received two guns, several fishing-rods, two crates of crockery, and several cases of portable furniture of various kinds, besides many small articles. mrs. renshaw was presented with a stove of the best construction and a crate full of utensils of every kind, while marion had work-boxes and desks sufficient to stock a school, two sets of garden tools, and innumerable nick-nacks likely to be more or less useful to her in her new life. besides these there were several boxes of books of standard literature. "every one is very kind," mrs. renshaw said as the crates and hampers arrived; "but if it goes on like this we shall have to charter a ship to ourselves, and how we are to move about there when we get out with all these things i have not the least idea." at last the good-byes were all finished, the visitors had left the ship, the hawsers were thrown off, and the vessel began to move slowly towards the dock gates. as soon as she had issued through these she was seized by a tug, and proceeded in tow down the crowded river. there was a last waving of handkerchiefs and hats to the group of people standing at the entrance to the docks, and then the passengers began to look round and examine each other and the ship. sailors were hard at work--the last bales and boxes were being lowered into the hold, ropes were being coiled up, and tidiness restored to the deck. parties of seamen were aloft loosening some of the sails, for the wind was favourable, and the captain had ordered some of the canvas to be set to assist the tug. "now, marion," mrs. renshaw said, "we had better go below and tidy up things a bit. wil, you may as well come down and help me get the trunks stowed away under the berths, and put some hooks in for the brush-bags and other things we have brought; the hooks and gimlet are in my hand-bag." wilfrid assisted to set his mother's cabin in order, and then went to his own. it was a good-sized cabin, and when the ship was full accommodated four passengers; but the two upper bunks had now been taken down, and there was, wilfrid thought, ample room for two. on his own bunk were piled his two portmanteaus, a gun-case, a bundle of fishing-rods, and other odds and ends, and a somewhat similar collection of luggage was on that opposite. wilfred read the name on the labels. "atherton," he said; "i wonder what he is like. i do hope he will be a nice fellow." scarcely had the thought passed through his mind when a figure appeared at the cabin door. it was that of a tall stout man, with immensely broad shoulders. his age wilfrid guessed to be about thirty-five. he had a pleasant face, and there was a humorous twinkle in his eye as the lad looked round in astonishment at the figure completely blocking up the doorway. "so you are renshaw?" the big man said. "i congratulate myself and you that your dimensions are not of the largest. my name is atherton, as i daresay you have seen on my luggage. suppose we shake hands, renshaw? it is just as well to make friends at once, as we have got to put up with each other for the next five or six months. of course you are a little appalled at my size," he went on, as he shook hands with the lad. "most people are at first, but nobody is so much appalled as i am myself. still it has its amusing side, you know. i don't often get into an omnibus, because i do not think it is fair; but if i am driven to do so, and there happen to be five people on each side, the expression of alarm on those ten faces when i appear at the door is a picture, because it is manifestly impossible that they can make room for me on either side." "what do you do, sir?" wilfrid asked laughing. "i ask one of them to change sides. that leaves two places vacant, and as i make a point of paying for two, we get on comfortably enough. it is fortunate there are only two of us in this cabin. if i have the bad luck to travel in a full ship i always wait until the others are in bed before i turn in, and get up in the morning before they are astir; but i think you and i can manage pretty comfortably." "then you have travelled a good deal, sir?" wilfrid said. "i am always travelling," the other replied. "i am like the fidgetty phil of the story-book, who could never keep still. most men of my size are content to take life quietly, but that is not so with me. for the last twelve or thirteen years i have been always on the move, and i ought to be worn down to a thread paper; but unfortunately, as you see, that is not the effect of travel in my case. i suppose you are going out to settle?" "yes, sir. i have my father, mother, and sister on board." "lucky fellow!" mr. atherton said; "i have no relations worth speaking of." "are you going to settle at last, sir?" wilfrid asked. "no, i am going out to botanize. i have a mania for botany, and new zealand, you know, is in that respect one of the most remarkable regions in the world, and it has not yet been explored with anything approaching accuracy. it is a grand field for discovery, and there are special points of interest connected with it, as it forms a sort of connecting link between the floras of australia, asia, and south america, and has a flora of its own entirely distinct from any of these. now let me advise you as to the stowing away of your traps. there is a good deal of knack in these things. have you got your portmanteaus packed so that one contains all the things you are likely to require for say the first month of your voyage, and the other as a reserve to be drawn on occasionally? because, if not, i should advise you to take all the things out and to arrange them in that way. it will take you a little time, perhaps, but will save an immense amount of trouble throughout the voyage." wilfrid had packed his trunks with things as they came to hand, but he saw the advantage of following his fellow-passenger's advice, and accordingly opened his portmanteaus and piled the whole of their contents upon his berth. he then repacked them, mr. atherton sitting down on his berth and giving his advice as to the trunk in which each article should be placed. the work of rearrangement occupied half-an-hour, and wilfrid often congratulated himself during the voyage upon the time so spent. when all was complete and the cabin arranged tidily, wilfrid looked in at the next cabin. this was occupied by two young men of the name of allen. they were friends of an acquaintance of mr. renshaw, who, hearing that they were journeying by the same ship to new zealand, had brought them down to eastbourne terrace and introduced them to mr. renshaw and his family. the two were occupied in arranging their things in the cabin. "well, renshaw," james, the elder of them, said when he entered, "i am afraid i cannot congratulate you on your fellow-passenger. we saw him go into your cabin. he is a tremendous man. he would be magnificent if he were not so stout. why, you will scarce find room to move!" "he is a capital fellow," wilfrid said. "i think we shall get on splendidly together. he is full of fun, and makes all sorts of jokes about his own size. he has travelled a tremendous lot, and is up to everything. he is nothing like so old as you would think, if you have not seen his face. i do not think he is above thirty-five or so. well, as i see you have just finished, i will go up and see how we are getting on." when wilfrid reached the deck he found the vessel was off erith, and was greeted by his sister. "you silly boy, you have been missing the sight of all the shipping, and of greenwich hospital. the idea of stopping below all this time. i should have come to call you up if i had known which was your room." "cabin, you goose!" wilfrid said; "the idea of talking of rooms on board a ship. i would have come up if i had thought of it; but i was so busy putting things to right and making the acquaintance of the gentleman in the cabin with me that i forgot altogether we were moving down the river." "which is he, wilfrid?" wilfrid laughed and nodded in the direction of mr. atherton, who was standing with his back towards them a short distance away. marion's eyes opened wide. "oh, wil, what a big man! he must quite fill up the cabin." "he seems an awfully good fellow, marion." "i daresay he may be, wil; but he will certainly take up more than his share of the cabin." "it is awkward, isn't it, young lady?" mr. atherton said, suddenly turning round on his heel, to marion's horror, while wilfrid flushed scarlet, for he had not the least idea that his words could be heard. "i have capital hearing, you see," mr. atherton went on with a laugh, "and a very useful sense it is sometimes, and has stood me in good service upon many occasions, though i own that it effectually prevents my cherishing any illusion as to my personal appearance. this is your sister, of course, renshaw; in fact, anyone could see that at a glance. there is nothing like making acquaintances early on the voyage; the first day is in that respect the most important of all." "why is that?" marion asked. "because as a rule the order in which people sit down to table on the first day of the voyage is that in which they sit the whole time. now, if one happens to sit one's self down by people who turn out disagreeable it is a very great nuisance, and therefore it is very important to find out a little about one's fellow-passengers the first day, so as to take a seat next to someone whom you are not likely to quarrel with before you have been a week at sea." "then they do not arrange places for you, mr. atherton?" "oh no; the captain perhaps settles as to who are to sit up by him. if there is anyone of special importance, a governor or vice-governor or any other big-wig, he and his wife, if he has got one, will probably sit next to the captain on one side, if not, he will choose someone who has been specially introduced to him or who has sailed with him before, and the steward, before the party sit down, puts their names on their plates; everyone else shifts for themselves. renshaw, i shall be glad if you will introduce me to your father and mother, and if we get on well i will go down below and arrange that we get places together. i have been chatting with the first officer, who is a very pleasant fellow; i have sailed with him before. the rule is he sits at the end of the table facing the captain, and my experience is that when the first officer happens to be a good fellow, which is not always the case, his end of the table is the most pleasant place. there is generally more fun and laughing at that end than there is at the other; for all the people who fancy that they are of importance make a point of getting seats as near as they can to the captain, and important people are not, as a rule, anything like as pleasant as the rest of us." wilfrid walked across the deck with mr. atherton to the point where his father and mother were sitting. "mother, this is mr. atherton, who is in my cabin." mr. atherton shook hands with mr. and mrs. renshaw. "i asked your son to introduce me at once, mrs. renshaw, because, as i have been telling him, a good deal of the comfort of the voyage depends upon making a snug little party to sit together at meals. there is nothing i dread more than being put down between two acidulated women, who make a point of showing by their manner every time one sits down that they consider one is taking up a great deal more than one's share of the seat." mrs. renshaw smiled. "i should think people were not often as rude as that." "i can assure you that it is the rule rather than the exception, mrs. renshaw. i am not a particularly sensitive man, i think; but i make a point of avoiding crowded railway-carriages, being unable to withstand the expression of blank dismay that comes over the faces of people when i present myself at the door. i have thought sometimes of hiring a little boy of about four years old to go about with me, as the two of us would then only take up a fair share of space. i have been looking to the cabin arrangements, and find that each seat holds three. your son and daughter are neither of them bulky, so if they won't mind sitting a little close they will be conferring a genuine kindness upon me." "we shall not mind at all," wilfrid and marion exclaimed together, for there was something so pleasant about mr. atherton's manner they felt that he would be a delightful companion. "very well, then; we will regard that as settled. then we five will occupy the seats on one side of the chief officer." "we will get the two allens opposite," wilfrid put in. "i will look about for three others to make up what i may call our party. who do you fancy, mrs. renshaw? now look round and fix on somebody, and i will undertake the duty of engineering the business." "there are two girls, sisters, in my cabin," marion said. "i think they seem nice. they are going out alone to join their father and mother in new zealand." "in that case, mrs. renshaw, i had better leave the matter in your hands." "that will be very simple, mr. atherton, as i have already spoken to them," and she at once got up and moved across to two girls of about thirteen and seventeen respectively, who were standing together watching the passing ships, and entered into conversation with them. when she proposed that, as they were in the same cabin with marion, they should sit near each other at table, they gladly agreed, saying, however, that they had been placed under the special care of the captain, and as he had said that he would keep them under his eye, they were afraid he might want them to sit near him. "i will speak to the captain myself," mrs. renshaw said. "i daresay he will be rather glad to have the responsibility taken off his hands, especially if i propose, which i will if you like, to take you under my general charge." "oh, we should like that very much," the elder of the two girls said. "it seems so very strange to us being here among so many people without any lady with us. we should be so much obliged to you if you would take us under your wing." "i can quite understand your feelings, my dears, and will speak to the captain directly. i see that he is disengaged. if we were under sail there would not be much chance of getting a word with him; but as the tug has us in charge, i see that he has time to chat to the passengers." a few minutes later the captain left the gentleman with whom he was speaking and came along the deck. the renshaws had made his acquaintance when they first came down to see their cabins. "how are you, mrs. renshaw?" he said as he came up to her. "we have fine weather for our start, have we not? it is a great thing starting fair, as it enables people to settle down and make themselves at home." "i have been chatting with the miss mitfords, captain; they are in the cabin with my daughter. they tell me that they are under your special charge." "yes, they are among the number of my responsibilities," the captain said smiling. "they naturally feel rather lonely on board from having no lady with them, and have expressed their willingness to put themselves under my charge if you will sanction it. it will be pleasant both for them and my daughter, and they can sit down with us at meals, and make a party together to work or read on deck." "i shall be extremely glad, mrs. renshaw, if you will accept the responsibility. a captain's hands are full enough without having to look after women. there are four or five single ladies on board, on all of whom i have promised to keep a watchful eye, and i shall be delighted to be relieved of the responsibility of two of them." so the matter was arranged, and going down into the cabin a few minutes before the bell rang for dinner, the party succeeded in getting the places they desired. mr. atherton was next to the chief officer. wilfrid sat next to him, marion between her brother and mrs. renshaw, and mr. renshaw next. the two allens faced mr. atherton and wilfrid; the miss mitfords came next, facing marion and her mother. a captain pearson and his wife were next to the mitfords, while a civil engineer, mr. halbrook, occupied the vacant seat next to mr. renshaw. once seated, the renshaws speedily congratulated themselves on the arrangements that they had made as they saw the hesitating way in which the rest of the passengers took their places, and the looks of inquiry and doubt they cast at those who seated themselves next to them. for a time the meal was a silent one, friends talking together in low voices, but nothing like a general conversation being attempted. at the first officers' end of the table, however, the sound of conversation and laughter began at once. "have you room, miss renshaw? or do you already begin to regret your bargain?" "i have plenty of room, thank you," marion replied. "i hope that you have enough?" "plenty," mr. atherton answered. "i have just been telling your brother that if he finds i am squeezing him he must run his elbow into my ribs. let me see, mr. ryan; it must be three years since we sat together." "just about that," the mate replied with a strong irish accent. "you went with us from japan to singapore, did you not?" "that was it, and a rough bout we had of it in that cyclone in the china seas. you remember that i saved the ship then?" "how was that, mr. atherton?" wilfrid asked. the first officer laughed. "mr. atherton always took a deal more credit to himself than we gave him. when the cyclone struck the ship and knocked her right down on her beam-ends, he happened to be sitting up to windward, and he always declared that if it hadn't been for his weight the ship would never have righted itself." there was a general laugh at the mate's explanation. "i always plant myself to windward in a gale," mr. atherton said gravely. "shifting ballast is a most useful thing, although they have abolished it in yacht-racing. i was once in a canoe, down by borneo, when a heavy squall struck us. i was sitting in the bottom of the boat when we saw it coming, and had just time to get up and sit on the weather gunwale when it struck us. if it had not been for me nothing could have saved the boat from capsizing. as it was it stood up as stiff as a rock, though, i own, i nearly drowned them all when the blow was over, for it stopped as suddenly as it began, and the boat as nearly as possible capsized with my weight. indeed it would have done so altogether if it hadn't heeled over so sharply that i was chucked backwards into the sea. fortunately the helmsman made a grab at me as i went past, and i managed to scramble on board again. not that i should have sunk for i can float like a cork; but there are a good many sharks cruising about in those waters, and it is safer inside a boat than it is out. you see, miss renshaw, there are advantages in being stout. i should not wonder if your brother got just my size one day. my figure was very much like his once." "oh, i hope not!" marion exclaimed. "that would be dreadful! no; i don't mean that," she went on hurriedly as mr. atherton's face assumed an expression of shocked surprise. "i mean that, although of course there may be many advantages in being stout, there are advantages in being thin too." "i admit that," mr. atherton agreed; "but look at the disadvantages. a stout man escapes being sent trotted about on messages. nobody would think of asking him to climb a ladder. he is not expected to dance. the thin man is squeezed into any odd corner; and is not treated with half the consideration that is given to a fat man. he worries about trifles, and has none of the quiet contentment that characterizes stout people. a stout man's food always agrees with him, or else he would not be stout; while the thin man suffers indigestion, dyspepsia, and perhaps jaundice. you see, my dear young lady, that almost all the advantages are on our side. of course you will say i could not climb a ladder, but then i do not want to climb a ladder. i could not make the ascent of matterhorn; but it is much more pleasant to sit at the bottom and see fools do it. i could not very well ride a horse unless it were a dray-horse; but then i have no partiality for horse exercise. altogether i think i have every reason to be content. i can travel wherever i like, see whatever i want to see, and enjoy most of the good things of life." "and hould your own in a scrimmage," mr. ryan put in laughing. "i can answer for that." "if i am pushed to it," mr. atherton said modestly, "of course i try to do my best." "have you seen mr. atherton in a scrimmage?" tom allen asked the mate. "i have; and a sharp one it was while it lasted." "there is no occasion to say anything about it, ryan," mr. atherton said hastily. "but no reason in life why i should not," the mate replied. "what do you say, ladies and gentleman?" there was a chorus of "go on please, do let us hear about it," and he continued: "i don't give mr. atherton the credit of saving our ship in the squall, but it would have gone badly with us if he hadn't taken part in the row we had. you see, we had a mixed crew on board, for the most part chinamen and a few lascars; for we were three years in the china seas, and english sailors cannot well stand the heat out there, and besides don't like remaining in ships stopping there trading. so when, after we arrived at shanghai, we got orders to stop and trade out there, most of them took their discharge, and we filled up with natives. coming down from japan that voyage there was a row. i forget what their pretext was now, but i have no doubt it was an arranged thing, and that they intended to take the ship and run her ashore on some of the islands, take what they fancied out of her, and make off in boats, or perhaps take her into one of those nests of pirates that abound among the islands. "they felt so certain of overpowering us, for there were only the three officers, the boatswain, and two cabin passengers, that instead of rising by night, when they would no doubt have succeeded, they broke into mutiny at dinner-time--came aft in a body, clamouring that their food was unfit to eat. then suddenly drawing weapons from beneath their clothes they rushed up the gangways on to the poop; and as none of us were armed, and had no idea of what was going to take place, they would have cut us down almost without resistance had it not been for our friend here. he was standing just at the top of the poop ladder when they came up, headed by their seraing. mr. atherton knocked the scoundrel down with a blow of his fist, and then, catching him by the ankles, whirled him round his head like a club and knocked the fellows down like ninepins as they swarmed up the gangway, armed with knives and creases. "the captain, who was down below, had slammed and fastened the door opening on to the waist on seeing the fellows coming aft, and handed up to us through the skylight some loaded muskets, and managed, by standing on the table and taking our hands, to get up himself. then we opened fire upon them, and in a very few minutes drove them down. we shot six of them. the seraing of course was killed, four of the others had their skulls fairly broken in by the blows that they had received, and five were knocked senseless. we chucked them down the hatchway to the others, had up four or five of the men to work the ship, and kept the rest fastened below until we got to singapore and handed them over to the authorities. they all got long terms of penal servitude. anyhow, mr. atherton saved our lives and the ship, so i think you will agree with me that he can hold his own in a scrimmage." "it was very hot work," mr. atherton said with a laugh, "and i did not get cool again for two or three days afterwards. the idea of using a man as a club was not my own. belzoni put down a riot among his arab labourers, when he was excavating ruins somewhere out in syria, i think it was, by knocking the ringleader down and using him as a club. i had been reading the book not long before, and it flashed across my mind as the seraing went down that he might be utilized. fists are all very well, but when you have got fellows to deal with armed with knives and other cutting instruments it is better to keep them at a distance if you can." "that was splendid!" wilfrid exclaimed. "how i should like to have seen it!" "it was good for the eyes," the mate said; "and bate donnybrook entirely. such a yelling and shouting as the yellow reptiles made you never heard." by this time the meal was finished, and the passengers repaired on deck to find that the ship was just passing sheerness. "who would have thought," wilfrid said to his sister as he looked at mr. atherton, who had taken his seat in a great indian reclining chair he had brought for his own use, and was placidly smoking a cigar, "that that easy, placid, pleasant-looking man could be capable of such a thing as that! shouldn't i like to have been there!" "so should i," marion agreed; "though it must have been terrible to look at. he doesn't look as if anything would put him out. i expect samson was something like him, only not so stout. he seems to have been very good-tempered except when people wanted to capture him; and was always ready to forgive that horrid woman who tried to betray him to his enemies. well, everything is very nice--much nicer than i expected--and i feel sure that we shall enjoy the voyage very much." chapter iii the voyage. in addition to those already named, the _flying scud_ carried some twenty other cabin passengers. she took no emigrants forward, as she was full of cargo, and was not, moreover, going direct to new zealand. there were therefore only three or four young men in addition to the grimstones forward. the fine weather that had favoured the start accompanied them down the channel and across the bay. life went on quietly on board. it was early in may when they started; and the evenings were still too chilly to permit of any sojourn on deck after sunset. each day, however, the weather grew warmer, and by the time the vessel was off the coast of portugal the evenings were warm and balmy. "this is not at all what i expected," marion renshaw said, as she sat in a deck-chair, to mr. atherton, who was leaning against the bulwark smoking a cigar. "i thought we were going to have storms, and that every one was going to be sea-sick. that is what it is like in all the books i have read; and i am sure that i have not felt the least bit ill from the time we started." "you have had everything in your favour. there has been just enough breeze to take us along at a fair rate with all our light canvas set, and yet not enough to cause more than a ripple on the sea. the ship has been as steady as if in port; but you must not flatter yourself this is going to last all the time. i think we shall have a change before long. the glass has fallen a little, and the wind has shifted its quarter two or three times during the day. the sky, too, does not look so settled as it has done. i think we shall have a blow before long." "what! a storm, mr. atherton?" "no, i don't say that; but wind enough to get up a bit of sea, and to make landsmen feel very uncomfortable." "but i suppose we should not be ill now even if it were rough, after being a week at sea?" "i do not think you would be likely to be ill so long as you might have been had you encountered a gale directly we got out of the river, but i think that if it comes on rough all those addicted to sea-sickness are likely to suffer more or less. some people are ill every time rough weather comes along, however long the voyage. i suppose you don't know yet whether you are a good sailor or not?" marion shook her head. "we have been at the seaside almost every year, but we have never gone out in boats much there. papa was always too busy to go, and i don't think he likes it. mother gets a bad headache, even if she isn't ill. so i very seldom went out, and never when it was the least rough." mr. atherton's predictions turned out well founded. the wind got up during the night and was blowing freshly in the morning, and only two or three of the lady passengers made their appearance at breakfast; and several of the gentlemen were also absent. wilfrid, to his great satisfaction, felt so far no symptoms whatever of impending illness. the two allens were obliged to keep on deck during the meal, being unable to stand the motion below; but they were well enough to enjoy the cup of tea and plate of cold meat wilfrid carried up to them. an hour or two later they went below. the wind was rising and the sea hourly getting up. marion came up after breakfast, and for some time afterwards walked up and down on the deck with wilfrid enjoying the brisk air, and considering it great fun to try to walk straight up and down the swaying deck. presently, however, her laugh became subdued and her cheeks lost their colour. "i am afraid i am going to be ill, wilfrid; but i shall stay on deck if i can. both the mitfords are ill, i am sure, for neither of them got up, though they declared that they felt nothing the matter with them. i have made up my mind to stay on deck as long as i possibly can." "that is the best way," mr. atherton said as he joined them in their walk, and caught the last sentence. "there is nothing like keeping up as long as possible; because if you do so it will sometimes pass off after a short time, whereas if you give up and take to your berth it is sure to run its course, which is longer or shorter according to circumstances--sometimes two days and sometimes five; but i should say that people who are what you may call fair sailors generally get over it in two days, unless the weather is very bad. so fight against it as long as you can, and when you cannot bear it any longer i will wrap you up in rugs, and you shall have my great chair to curl up in close by the lee bulwark. but determination goes a long way, and you may get over it yet. you take my arm, you won't throw me off my balance; while if the vessel gives a sharper roll than usual, you and your brother may both lose your feet together." as soon as they started on their walk mr. atherton began an amusing story of some adventure of his in the western states of america, and marion was so interested that she forgot all about her uncomfortable sensation, and was astonished when on hearing the lunch-bell ring she discovered she was getting perfectly well. "where is wilfrid?" she asked. "there he is, leaning over the lee bulwark; the fiend of sea-sickness has him in its grip." "only think of wilfrid being unwell and me being all right! you have quite driven it away, mr. atherton, for i was feeling very poorly when i began to walk with you." "i will go down and get you some luncheon and bring it up here to you. curl yourself up in my chair until i return, and do not think more about the motion than you can help. you had better not go near your brother--people who are ill hate being pitied." an hour later wilfrid went below. in the evening, however, the wind dropped considerably, and the next morning the sea was sparkling in the sunlight, and the _flying scud_ was making her way along with a scarcely perceptible motion. thenceforth the weather was delightful throughout the voyage to rio. the passengers found upon closer acquaintance that they all got on well together, and the days passed away pleasantly. in the evenings the piano was brought up from the cabin on to the deck, and for two or three hours there was singing, varied by an occasional dance among the young people. from the day of their leaving england mr. atherton had been the leading spirit on board the ship. if a misunderstanding arose he acted as mediator. he was ever ready to propose pastimes and amusements to lighten the monotony of the voyage, took the leading part in the concerts held on deck when the evenings were calm and clear, and was full of resource and invention. with the four or five children on board he was prime favourite, and mr. renshaw often wondered at the patience and good temper with which he submitted to all their whims, and was ready to give up whatever he was doing to submit himself to their orders. he had, before they had been ten days at sea, talked over with mr. renshaw the latter's plans, and advised him upon no account to be in a hurry to snap up the first land offered to him. "half the people who come out to the colonies," he said, "get heavily bit at first by listening to the land-agents, and allowing themselves to be persuaded into buying property which, when they come to take possession of it, is in a majority of the cases almost worthless. i should advise you when you get there to hire a house in wellington, where you can leave your wife and daughter while you examine the various districts and see which offer the greatest advantages. if you do not feel equal to it yourself, let your son go in your place. he is, i think, a sharp young fellow, and not likely to be easily taken in. at any rate, when he has made his report as to the places that seem most suitable, you can go and see their relative advantages before purchasing. "'there is no greater mistake than buying land in a locality of which you know nothing. you may find that the roads are impracticable and that you have no means of getting your produce to market, and after a while you will be glad to sell your place for a mere song and shift to another which you might at first have obtained at a price much lower than you gave for your worthless farm. i have knocked about in the states a good deal, and have known scores of men ruined by being too hasty in making a choice. you want to be in a colony six months at least before investing your money in land, so as to know something of the capabilities and advantages of each district. to a young man i should say--travel about in the colony, working your way, and making a stay of a month here and a month there. of course in your case this is out of the question; but a personal examination of the places offered to you, which in nine cases out of ten men are ready to sell for less than they have cost them, will ensure you against absolute swindling." "what are you going to do yourself, mr. atherton?" "i have come out simply to study the botany of the island. i may stay in the colony for a month or for a year. at any rate, if you depute wilfrid to travel about to examine the various districts where land can be bought, i shall be glad to accompany him, as i myself shall also be on the look-out." "you are not thinking of farming, mr. atherton?" "no. my own idea is to take a bit of land on one of the rivers, to get up a hut to serve as my head-quarters, and to spend much of my time in travelling about. i am very fortunately placed. i have ample funds to enable me to live in comfort, and i am free to indulge my fancy for wandering as i please. i consider that i have been spoiled by being my own master too young. i think it is bad for a young man to start in life with a competence; but when it comes to one in middle age, when one has learned to spend it rationally, it is undoubtedly a very great comfort and advantage. i suppose, however, that the time will come when i shall settle down. i am thirty-five, and i ought to 'range myself,' as the french say." mr. atherton had not been long upon the voyage when he discovered that the chances of success of the renshaw party as settlers would be small indeed if they depended upon the exertions of the head of the family. he had not been more than a day or two on board before mr. renshaw began to discuss his favourite hobby with him, and confided to him that he intended thoroughly to investigate the history, customs, and religion of the maoris, and to produce an exhaustive work on the subject. "an excellent idea, very," the stout man said encouragingly, "but one demanding great time and investigation; and perhaps," he added doubtfully, "one more suited to a single man, who can go and live among the natives and speak their language, than for a married man with a family to look after." mr. renshaw waved the remark aside lightly. "i shall, of course, set to work immediately i arrive to acquire a thorough knowledge of the language, and indeed have already begun with a small dictionary and a new testament in the maori language, brought out by the missionary society. as to my family, my exertions in the farming way will be of no use whatever to them. my wife and daughter will look after the house, and wilfrid will undertake the management of the men out of doors. the whole scheme is theirs, and i should be of no assistance to them whatever. my bent lies entirely in the direction of archæology, and there can be little doubt that my thorough acquaintance with all relating to the habits, and, so far as is known, of the language of the ancient britons, saxons, danes, and the natives of the northern part of the island, will be of inestimable advantage in enabling me to carry out the subject i have resolved to take up. there are analogies and similarities between the habits of all primitive peoples, and one accustomed to the study of the early races of europe can form a general opinion of the habits and mode of living of a tribe merely from the inspection of an ancient weapon or two, a bracelet, and a potsherd." mr. atherton looked down upon his companion with half-closed eyes, and seemed to be summing him up mentally; after a short conversation he turned away, and as he filled his pipe muttered to himself: "it is well for the family that the mother seems a capable and sensible woman, and that the lad, unless i am mistaken, has a dogged resolution about him as well as spirit and courage. the girl, too, is a bright sensible lass, and they may get on in spite of this idiot of a father. however, the man shows that he possesses a certain amount of sense by the confidence with which he throws the burden of the whole business of providing a living for the family on their shoulders. "of course they would be much better without him, for i can foresee he will give them an awful lot of trouble. he will go mooning away among the natives, and will be getting lost and not heard of for a tremendous time. still, i don't know that he will come to much harm. the maoris have fine traits of character, and though they have been fighting about what they call the king question, they have seldom been guilty of any acts of hostility to isolated settlers, and a single white man going among them has always been received hospitably; besides, they will probably think him mad, and savages have always a sort of respect for madmen. still, he will be a terrible worry to his family. i have taken a fancy to the others, and if i can do them a good turn out there in any way i will." as the voyage went on mr. atherton's liking for mrs. renshaw, her son and daughter, increased greatly, while his contempt for mr. renshaw became modified as he came to know him better. he found that he was really a capable man in his own particular hobby, and that although weak and indecisive he was very kind and affectionate with his wife and children, and reposed an almost childlike confidence in his wife's good sense. madeira had been sighted lying like a great cloud on the horizon, and indeed the young renshaws had difficulty when they came up on deck in the morning in believing that it was really land they saw. no stay was made here, nor did they catch a glimpse of the canary islands, being too far to the west to see even the lofty peak of teneriffe. the first time the ship dropped anchor was at st. jago, one of the cape de verde islands; here they took in a supply of fresh water, meat, and vegetables. the passengers all landed, but were much disappointed with the sandy and uninteresting island, and it was no consolation for them to learn from the captain that parts of the island were much more fertile, although the vegetables and fruit came for the most part from the other islands. "now," he said, "if all goes well you will see no land again till you get to rio. we shall keep to the east of st. paul, and unless we get blown out of our course we shall not go near ascension." as the wind continued favourable the ship kept her course, and at twelve o'clock one day the captain, after taking his observations, told them that he expected to be in rio on the following evening. the next morning when they came up on deck land was in sight, and in the evening they dropped anchor in the harbour of rio, one of the finest ports in the world. "yes, it is a splendid harbour," mr. atherton agreed as he listened to the exclamations of delight of the renshaws. "i do not know that it is the finest, but it is certainly equal to any i have ever seen. as a harbour new york is better, because even more landlocked. san francisco is, both in that respect and in point of scenery, superb. bombay is a grand harbour, but exposed to certain winds. taken altogether, i think i should give the palm to san francisco." a few minutes after the anchor had dropped a number of shore-boats came alongside filled with luscious fruit, and rowed for the most part by negroes, who chatted and shouted and gesticulated, making such a din that it was impossible to distinguish a single word amid the uproar. wilfrid, the allens, and others quickly ran down the ladders, and without troubling themselves to bargain returned with quantities of fruit. several negresses soon followed them on to the deck, and going up to the ladies produced cards and letters testifying that they were good washerwomen and their terms reasonable. the captain had the evening before told them it would take him three or four days to discharge his cargo for rio, and that they had better take advantage of the opportunity if they wanted any washing done. they had, therefore, got everything in readiness, and in a few minutes numerous canvas bags filled with linen were deposited in the boats. in addition to the fruit several great bouquets of gorgeous flowers had been purchased, and the cabin that evening presented quite a festive appearance. after it became dark and the lights of rio sparkled out, all agreed that the scene was even more beautiful than by daylight. the air was deliciously balmy and soft, the sea as smooth as glass. the moon was nearly full, and the whole line of the shore could be distinctly seen. boats flitted about between the vessels and the strand; fishing-boats, with their sails hanging motionless, slowly made their way in by the aid of oars. the sounds of distant music in the city came across the water. there was no singing or dancing on board the _flying scud_ that evening. all were content to sit quiet and enjoy the scene, and such conversation as there was was carried on in low tones, as if they were under a spell which they feared to break. the next morning all went ashore soon after breakfast; but upon their assembling at dinner it was found that the general impression was one of disappointment. it was a fine city, but not so fine as it looked from the water. except the main thoroughfares the streets were narrow, and, as the ladies declared, dirty. the young people, however, were not so critical; they had been delighted with the stir and movement, the bright costumes, the variety of race and colour, and the novelty of everything they saw. "the negroes amuse me most," marion said. "they seem to be always laughing. i never saw such merry people." "they are like children," her father said. "the slightest thing causes them amusement. it is one of the signs of a low type of intellect when people are given to laugh at trifles." "then the natives ought to be very intelligent," marion said, "for as a whole they appeared to me to be a serious race. of course i saw many of them laughing and chattering, but most of them are very quiet in manner. the old people seem to be wrinkled in a wonderful way. i never saw english people so wrinkled." "all southern races show age in that way," mr. atherton said. "you see marvellous old men and women in spain and italy. people who, as far as looks go, might be a hundred and fifty--little dried-up specimens of humanity, with faces more like those of monkeys than men." "are the negroes slaves, mr. atherton? they still have slavery in brazil, do they not? they certainly are not at all according to my idea of slaves." "the estates are mostly worked by negro slaves," mr. atherton said, "and no doubt many of those you saw to-day are also slaves. household slavery is seldom severe, and i believe the brazilians are generally kind masters. but probably the greater portion of the negroes you saw are free. they may have purchased their freedom with their savings, or may have been freed by kind masters. it is no very unusual thing for a brazilian at his death to leave a will giving freedom to all his slaves. government is doing its best to bring about the entire extinction of slavery. i believe that all children born after a certain date have been declared free, and have no doubt that in time slavery will be abolished. great changes like this take some time to carry out, and even for the sake of the slaves themselves it is better to proceed quietly and gradually. i suppose nobody inclines to go on shore again to-night?" there was a general negative. the day had been very warm, and having been walking about for hours no one felt any inclination to make a fresh start. the following morning the vessel began to unload her cargo. some of the older passengers declared that they had had enough of shore, and should not land--at any rate until the afternoon. the rest went ashore; but the greater part of them returned at lunch-time, and the heat in the afternoon was so great that none cared to land again. in the evening the two allens and wilfrid agreed to go ashore to visit a theatre. mr. atherton said that as he had no inclination to melt away all at once he would not join them, but would land with them and stroll about for a time, and see the town in its evening aspect. several other parties were made up among the male passengers, and one or two of the ladies accompanied their husbands. wilfrid and the allens did not stay out the performance. the heat was very great, and as they did not understand a word of the dialogue they soon agreed that it would be more pleasant to stroll about, or to sit down in the open air before a café and sip iced drinks. accordingly after walking about for a while they sat down before a café in the grand square, and as they sipped iced lemonade looked on with much amusement at the throng walking up and down. "it is later than i thought," james allen said, looking at his watch. "it is nearly twelve o'clock, and high time for us to be on board." they started to make what they thought would prove a short cut down to the landing-place; but as usual the short cut proved delusive, and they soon found themselves wandering in unknown streets. they asked several persons they met the way down to the water, but none of them understood english, and it was a considerable time before they emerged from the streets on to the line of quays. "we are ever so much too far to the right," james allen said as they looked round. "i fancy that is the ship's light not far from the shore half a mile away on the left. i hope we shall find some boatmen to take us off; it would be rather awkward finding ourselves here for the night in a place where no one understands the language." "i think we should manage all right," wilfrid said. "we know the way from the place where we landed up into the part where the hotels are, and are sure to find people there who understand english. still i hope it will not come to that. they would be in a great fidget on board if we were not to turn up to-night." "i do not think they would be alarmed," james allen replied. "every one is in bed and asleep long ago, and we should be on board in the morning before the steward went to our cabin and found that we were missing. i consider we are quite safe in that respect, but atherton might be doing something if he found we did not come back." "he might do something, perhaps," wilfrid said; "but i am quite sure he would not alarm my father and mother about it. he is the last sort of fellow to do that." chapter iv. a row on shore. while wilfrid and the allens were talking they were walking briskly in the direction of their landing-place. they had arrived within a hundred yards of it, when a party of four men who were lying among a pile of timber got up and came across towards them. they were rough-looking fellows, and james allen said, "i do not like the look of these chaps. i think they mean mischief. look out!" as he spoke the men rushed at them. james allen gave a loud shout for help and then struck a blow at a man who rushed at him. the fellow staggered backwards, and with a fierce exclamation in portuguese drew a knife. a moment later allen received a sharp stab on the shoulder, and was knocked to the ground. the other two after a short struggle had also been overpowered and borne down, but in their case the robbers had not used their knives. they were feeling in their pockets when the step of a man approaching at full speed was heard. one of the robbers was about to run off, when another exclaimed: "you coward! it is but one man, which means more booty. out with your knives and give him a taste of them as he comes up!" a moment later the man ran up. the leader stepped forward to meet him, knife in hand; but as he struck his wrist was grasped, and a tremendous blow was delivered in his face, hurling him stunned and bleeding to the ground. with a bound the new-comer threw himself upon two of the other men. grasping them by their throats he shook them as if they had been children, and then dashed their heads together with such tremendous force that when he loosened his grasp both fell insensible on the ground. the other robber took to his heels at the top of his speed. all this had passed so quickly that the struggle was over before wilfrid and the allens could get to their feet. "not hurt, i hope?" their rescuer asked anxiously. "why, mr. atherton, is it you?" wilfrid exclaimed. "you arrived at a lucky moment indeed. no, i am not hurt that i know of, beyond a shake." "nor i," bob allen said. "i have got a stab in my shoulder," james allen answered. "i don't know that it is very deep, but i think it is bleeding a good deal, for i feel very shaky. that fellow has got my watch," and he pointed to the man who had been first knocked down. "look in his hand, wilfrid. he won't have had time to put it in his pocket. if you have lost anything else look in the other fellows' hands or on the ground close to them." he lifted james allen, who was now scarcely able to stand, carried him to the wood pile, and seated him on a log with his back against another. then he took off his coat and waistcoat, and tore open his shirt. "it is nothing serious," he said. "it is a nasty gash and is bleeding freely, but i daresay we can stop that; i have bandaged up plenty of worse wounds in my time." he drew the edge of the wound together, and tied his handkerchief and that of wilfrid tightly round it. "that will do for the present," he said. "now i will carry you down to the boat," and lifting the young fellow up as though he were a feather he started with him. "shall we do anything with these fellows, mr. atherton?" wilfrid asked. "no, leave them as they are; what they deserve is to be thrown into the sea. i daresay their friend will come back to look after them presently." in a couple of minutes they arrived at the landing-place, where two men were sitting in a boat. "but how did you come to be here, mr. atherton?" wilfrid asked when they had taken their seats. "i came to look after you boys, wilfrid. i got on board about eleven, and on going down to the cabin found you had not returned, so i thought i would smoke another cigar and wait up for you. at twelve o'clock the last party returned, and as i thought you might have some difficulty in getting on board after that, i got into the boat and rowed ashore, and engaged the men to wait as long as i wanted them. i thought perhaps you had missed your way, and did not feel uneasy about you, for there being three of you together it was scarcely likely you had got into any bad scrape. i was beginning at last to think you had perhaps gone to an hotel for the night, and that it was no use waiting any longer, when i heard your voices coming along the quays. the night is so quiet that i heard your laugh some distance away, and recognized it. i then strolled along to meet you, when i saw those four fellows come out into the moonlight from a shadow in the wood. i guessed that they were up to mischief, and started to run at once, and was within fifty yards of you when i saw the scuffle and caught the glint of the moon on the blade of a knife. another five or six seconds i was up, and then there was an end of it. now we are close to the ship. go up as quietly as you can, and do not make a noise as you go into your cabins. it is no use alarming people. i will carry jim down." "i can walk now, i think, mr. atherton." "you might do, but you won't, my lad; for if you did you would probably start your wound bleeding afresh. you two had best take your shoes off directly you get on deck." james allen was carried down and laid on his berth. mr. atherton went and roused the ship's doctor, and then lighted the lamp in the cabin. "what is all this about?" the surgeon asked as he came in. "there has been a bit of a scrimmage on shore," mr. atherton replied; "and, as you see, allen has got a deepish slash from the shoulder down to the elbow. it has been bleeding very freely, and he is faint from loss of blood; but i do not think it is serious at all." "no, it is a deep flesh wound," the doctor said, examining him; "but there is nothing to be in the slightest degree uneasy about. i will get a bandage from my cabin, and some lint, and set it all right in five minutes." when the arm was bandaged, mr. atherton said: "now i must get you to do a little plastering for me doctor." "what! are you wounded, mr. atherton?" the others exclaimed in surprise. "nothing to speak of, lads; but both those fellows made a slash at me as i closed with them. i had but just finished their leader and could do no more than strike wildly as i turned upon them." as he spoke he was taking off his waistcoat and shirt. "by jove, you have had a narrow escape!" the doctor said; "and how you take it so coolly i cannot make out. except as to the bleeding, they are both far more serious than allen's." one of the wounds was in the left side, about three inches below the arm. the man had evidently struck at the heart, but the quickness with which mr. atherton had closed with him had disconcerted his aim; the knife had struck rather far back, and glancing behind the ribs had cut a deep gash under the shoulder-blade. the other wound had been given by a downright blow at the right side, and had laid open the flesh from below the breast down to the hip. "it is only a case for plaster," mr. atherton said. "it is useful to have a casing of fat sometimes. it is the same thing with a whale--you have got to drive a harpoon in very deep to get at the vitals. you see this wound in front has bled very little." "you have lost a good deal of blood from the other cut," the surgeon said. "i will draw the edges of the wounds together with a needle and thread, and will then put some bandages on. you will have to keep quiet for some days. your wounds are much too serious to think of putting plaster on at present." "i have had a good deal more serious wounds than these," mr. atherton said cheerfully, "and have had to ride seventy or eighty miles on the following day. however i will promise you not to go ashore to-morrow; and as the captain says he expects to be off the next morning, i shall be able to submit myself to your orders without any great privation." "why did you not say that you were wounded, mr. atherton?" wilfrid said reproachfully as they went to their own cabin and prepared to turn in. "to tell you the truth, wilfrid, i hardly thought the wounds were as deep as they are. my blood was up, you see, and when that is the case you are scarcely conscious of pain. i felt a sharp shooting sensation on both sides as i grasped those fellows by the throat, and afterwards i knew i was bleeding a bit at the back, for i felt the warmth of the blood down in my shoe; but there was nothing to prevent my carrying young allen, and one person can carry a wounded man with much more ease to him than two can do, unless of course they have got a stretcher." the next morning there was quite a stir in the ship when it was known that two of the passengers were wounded, and mr. and mrs. renshaw were greatly alarmed when they heard of the risk wilfrid had run. neither of the wounded men appeared at breakfast, as the surgeon insisted that both should lie quiet for at least one day. mr. renshaw had paid a visit to mr. atherton directly he had heard from wilfrid his story of the fray, and thanked him most warmly for his intervention on behalf of his son. "wilfrid said he has very little doubt that they all three would have been stabbed if you had not come up." "i do not say they might not," mr. atherton said, "because their resistance had raised the men's anger; and in this country when a man is angry he generally uses his knife. besides, dead men raise no alarm. still they might have contented themselves with robbing them. however, i own that it was lucky i was on the spot." "but it was not a question of luck at all," mr. renshaw insisted. "you were there because you had specially gone ashore to look after these foolish young fellows, and your being there was the result of your own thoughtfulness for them, and not in any way of chance." "there is quite a crowd on the quay, mr. renshaw," the captain said when that gentleman went on deck, "i suppose they have found stains of blood in the road and conclude that a crime has been committed. oh, here is our boat putting out from the landing-place. the steward has been on shore to get fresh fruit for breakfast; he will tell us what is going on." the steward had gone ashore before the news of the encounter had been spread by the surgeon. "what is the excitement about on shore?" the captain asked him as he stepped on deck. "well, sir, as far as i could learn from a chap who spoke a little english, there have been bad doings on shore in the night. two men were found this morning lying dead there. there is nothing uncommon about that; but they say there are no wounds on them, except that their skulls are stove in, as if they had both been struck by a beam of wood at the back of the head. but besides that there were two or three pools of blood in the road. it seems one man walked back into the town, for there are marks of his feet as if he stepped in the blood before starting in that direction. then there is a line of blood spots down to the landing-place and down the steps, as if somebody had got into a boat. nobody seems to make head nor tail of the business." "well, we must keep this quiet if we can," the captain said, turning to mr. renshaw. "if it were known that any of our people were concerned in this affair they might keep us here for three weeks or a month while it is being investigated, or insist upon mr. atherton and your son and the allens remaining behind as witnesses. mr. ryan," he called to the first-mate, "just come here a moment. this matter is more serious than we thought. it seems that mr. atherton, who, as we have heard, dashed the heads of two of these fellows together, killed them on the spot." "sure and i thought as much when young allen was telling me about it," the mate said. "i have seen mr. atherton at work before this, and i thought to myself that unless those fellows' skulls were made of iron, and thick at that, they must have gone in when he brought them together." "the worst of it is," the captain went on, "they have traced marks of blood down to the landing-stage, and of course have suspicion that someone concerned in the affair took a boat, and either came off to one of the ships or went away in one of the fishing craft. you know what these fellows are; if they find out that anyone on board is mixed up in the matter, they will keep the ship here for a month." "that is true enough, sir. it is mighty lucky we would be if we got away in a month." "the first thing is to see about the boatmen," the captain said. "of course if they tell the authorities they brought a wounded man on board here late last night there is an end of it; but if they hold their tongues, and we all keep our own council, the thing may not leak out to-day, and we will have our anchor up and get out this evening if we can. you had better tell all the crew that not a word is to be said about the matter, and i will impress the same on the passengers. when they know that a careless word may lead to a month's detention, you may be sure there will be no talking. but before you speak to them i will go down and see mr. atherton, and hear what he says about the boatmen." he returned in two or three minutes. "i hope it will be all right," he said. "atherton gave them a pound apiece, and told them to hold their tongues. he thinks it is probable they will do so, for they would know well enough that they would, as likely as not, be clapped into prison and kept there while the investigation was going on. so there is a strong hope that it may not leak out through them. you must stop all leave ashore, mr. ryan. tell the men whose turn it is to go, they shall have their spree at buenos ayres. if they were to get drunk it would be as likely as not to slip out." "i will see to it, sir." directly breakfast was over the captain took a boat and went ashore. he had duly impressed upon all the passengers the absolute necessity for silence, and several of these went ashore with him. he returned half an hour later, having been up to the british consulate. "the affair is making quite a stir in the town. not on account of two men being found dead, there is nothing uncommon in that, especially as they have been recognized as two notorious ruffians; but the whole circumstances of the affair puzzle them. "the doctors who have examined the bodies have arrived pretty well at the truth, and say that both men have been gripped by the throat, for the marks of the fingers are plainly visible, and their heads dashed together. but although this is, as we know, perfectly true, no one believes it; for the doctors themselves admit that it does not appear to them possible that any man would have had the strength requisite to completely batter in the skulls of two others, as has been done in this case. the police are searching the town for the man whose footsteps led in that direction, and as they know all the haunts of these ruffians and their associates it is likely enough that they will find him, especially as his face is sure to bear marks of atherton's handiwork. still, if they do find him, and he tells all he knows of the business, they will not be much nearer to tracing the actors in it to this ship. it is not probable that he recovered his senses until long after they were on board the boat, and can only say that while engaged in attempting to rob some passers-by he was suddenly knocked down. but even this they are not likely to get out of him first, for he will know that he used a knife, and is not likely to put himself in the way of punishment if he can help it. i came off at once, because i heard at the consulate that the police are going to search every ship in the harbour to see if they can find some wounded man, or get some clue to the mystery, so i must ask the doctor if his two patients are fit to be dressed and go up on deck." the doctor on being consulted said that he should certainly have preferred that they should have remained quiet all day, but he did not know that it would do them any harm to get on deck for a bit. and accordingly in half an hour mr. atherton and james allen came up. the doctor, who had assisted them to dress, accompanied them. "now, mr. atherton, you had better seat yourself in that great deck-chair of yours with the leg-rest. if you sit there quietly reading when they come on board they are not likely to suspect you of being a desperate character, or to appreciate your inches and width of shoulder. allen had better sit quiet till they get alongside, and then slip that sling into his pocket and walk up and down talking to one of the ladies, with his thumb in his waistcoat so as to support his arm. he looks pale and shaky; but they are not accustomed to much colour here, and he will pass well enough." as soon as mr. atherton had taken his seat mrs. renshaw and marion came up to him. "how can we thank you enough, mr. atherton, for the risks you have run to succour wilfrid, and for your kind consideration in going on shore to wait for him?" "it was nothing, mrs. renshaw. i own to enjoying a scrimmage when i can go into one with the feeling of being in the right. you know that i am a very lazy man, but it is just your lazy men who do enjoy exerting themselves occasionally." "it was grand!" marion broke in; "and you ought not to talk as if it was nothing, mr. atherton. wilfrid said that he thought it was all over with him till he saw a big man flying down the road." "a perfect colossus of rhodes!" mr. atherton laughed. "it is not a thing to joke about," marion went on earnestly. "it may seem very little to you, mr. atherton, but it is everything to us." "don't you know that one always jokes when one is serious, miss renshaw? you know that in church any little thing that you would scarcely notice at any other time makes you inclined to laugh. some day in the far distance, when you become a woman, you will know the truth of the saying, that smiles and tears are very close to each other." "i am getting to be a woman now," marion said with some dignity; for mr. atherton always persisted in treating her as if she were a child, which, as she was nearly seventeen, was a standing grievance to her. "age does not make a woman, miss renshaw. i saw you skipping three days ago with little kate mitford and your brother and young allen, and you enjoyed it as much as any of them." "we were trying which could keep up the longest," marion said; "wilfrid and i against the other two. you were looking on, and i believe you would have liked to have skipped too." "i think i should," mr. atherton agreed. "you young people do not skip half as well as we used to when i was a boy; and i should have given you a lesson if i had not been afraid of shaking the ship's timbers to pieces." "how absurd you are, mr. atherton!" marion said pettishly. "of course you are not thin, but you always talk of yourself as if you were something monstrous." mr. atherton laughed. his diversion had had the desired effect, and had led them away from the subject of the fight on shore. "there is a galley putting off from shore with a lot of officials on board," the captain said, coming up at this moment. "they are rowing to the next ship, and i suppose they will visit us next." a quarter of an hour later the galley came alongside, and three officials mounted the gangway. the captain went forward to meet them. "is there anything i can do for you, gentlemen?" "there has been a crime committed on shore," the leader of the party said, "and it is suspected that some of those concerned in the matter are on board one of the ships in the harbour. i have authority to make a strict search on board each." "you are perfectly welcome to do so, sir," the captain said. "one of our officers will show you over the ship." "i must trouble you to show me your list of passengers and crew, and to muster the men on deck. but first i must ask you, did any of your boats return on board late?" "no," the captain replied. "our last boat was hauled up to the davits at half-past nine. there was a heavy day's work before the men to-day, and i therefore refused leave on shore." the men were ordered to be mustered, and while they were collecting the second-mate went round the ship with the officials, and they saw that no one was below in his berth. the men's names were called over from the list, and the officials satisfied that all were present and in good health. "now for the passengers," he said "i cannot ask them to muster," the captain observed, "but i will walk round with you and point out those on the list. there are some eight or ten on shore. they will doubtless be off to lunch; and if you leave an officer on board he will see that they are by no means the sort of people to take part in such an affair as that which has happened on shore." the officials went round the deck, but saw nothing whatever to excite their suspicion. marion renshaw was laughing and talking with mr. atherton, miss mitford walking up and down the poop in conversation with james allen. after they had finished their investigations, the officials left one of their party to inspect the remaining passengers as they came on board, and to check them off the list. they then again took their seats in the galley and were rowed to the next ship. by dint of great exertions the cargo was got out by sunset, the sails were at once loosened and the anchor weighed, and before the short twilight had faded away the _flying scud_ was making her way with a gentle breeze towards the mouth of the harbour. "we are well out of that," mr. atherton said as he looked back at the lights of the city. "i think you are very well out of it indeed, in more senses than one," said the surgeon, who was standing next to him; "but you have had a wonderfully close shave of it, mr. atherton. another inch and either of those blows might have been fatal. besides, had you been detained for a month or six weeks, it is as likely as not that, what with the heat and what with the annoyance, your wound would have taken a bad turn. now, you must let me exercise my authority and order you to your berth immediately. you ought not to have been out of it. of the two evils, getting up and detention, i chose the least; but i should be glad now if you would go off at once. if you do not, i can assure you i may have you on my hands all the rest of the voyage." "i will obey orders, doctor. the more willingly because for the last hour or two my back has been smarting unmercifully. i do not feel the other wound much." "that is because you have been sitting still. you will find it hurt you when you come to walk. please go down carefully; a sudden movement might start your wounds again." it was two or three days before mr. atherton again appeared on deck. his left arm was bandaged tightly to his body so as to prevent any movement of the shoulder-blade, and he walked stiffly to the deck-chair, which had been piled with cushions in readiness. "i am glad to be out again, mrs. renshaw," mr. atherton said as she arranged the cushions to suit him. "your husband, with wilfrid and the two allens, have kept me company, one or other of them, all the time, so i cannot say i have been dull. but it was much hotter below than it is here. however, i know the doctor was right in keeping me below, for the slightest movement gave me a great deal of pain. however, the wounds are going on nicely, and i hope by the time we get to buenos ayres i shall be fit for a trip on shore again." "i hardly think so, mr. atherton; for if the weather continues as it is now--it is a nice steady breeze, and we have been running ever since we left rio--i think we shall be there long before you are fit to go ashore." "i do not particularly care about it," mr. atherton said. "buenos ayres is not like rio, but is for the most part quite a modern town, and even in situation has little to recommend it. besides, we shall be so far off that there will be no running backwards and forwards between the ship and the shore as there was at rio. of course it depends a good deal on the amount of the water coming down the river, but vessels sometimes have to anchor twelve miles above the town." "i am sure i have no desire to go ashore," mrs. renshaw said, "and after the narrow escape wilfrid had at rio i should be glad if he did not set foot there again until we arrive at the end of the voyage." "he is not likely to get into a scrape again," mr. atherton said. "of course it would have been wiser not to have stopped so late as they did in a town of whose ways they knew nothing; but you may be sure he will be careful another time. besides, i fancy from what i have heard things are better managed there, and the population are more peaceable and orderly than at rio. but, indeed, such an adventure as that which befell them might very well have happened to any stranger wandering late at night in the slums of any of our english seaports." there was a general feeling of disappointment among the passengers when the _flying scud_ dropped anchor in the turbid waters of the la plata. the shore was some five or six miles away, and was low and uninteresting. the towers and spires of the churches of buenos ayres were plainly visible, but of the town itself little could be seen. as soon as the anchor was dropped the captain's gig was lowered, and he started for shore to make arrangements for landing the cargo. the next morning a steam tug brought out several flats, and the work of unloading commenced. a few passengers went ashore in the tug, but none of the renshaws left the ship. two days sufficed for getting out the goods for buenos ayres. the passengers who had been staying at hotels on shore came off with the last tug to the ship. their stay ashore had been a pleasant one, and they liked the town, which, in point of cleanliness and order, they considered to be in advance of rio. chapter v. a boat expedition. "well i am not sorry we are off again," marion renshaw said as the men ran round with the capstan bars and the anchor came up from the shallow water. "what a contrast between this and rio!" "it is, indeed," mr. atherton, who was standing beside her, replied. "i own i should have liked to spend six months in a snug little craft going up the la plata and parana, especially the latter. the la plata runs through a comparatively flat and--i will not say unfertile country, because it is fertile enough, but--a country deficient in trees, and offering but small attraction to a botanist; but the parana flows north. paraguay is a country but little visited by europeans, and ought to be well worth investigation; but, as you say, i am glad enough to be out of this shallow water. in a short time we shall be looking out our wraps again. we shall want our warmest things for doubling cape horn, or rather what is called doubling cape horn, because in point of fact we do not double it at all." "do you mean we do not go round it?" marion asked in surprise. "we may, and we may not, miss renshaw. it will depend upon the weather, i suppose; but most vessels now go through the straits which separate cape horn itself from tierra del fuego." "those are the straits of magellan, are they not?" "oh, no!" mr. atherton replied. "the straits of magellan lie still further to the north, and separate tierra del fuego from the mainland. i wish that we were going through them, for i believe the scenery is magnificent." "but if they lie further north that must surely be our shortest way, so why should we not go through them?" "if we were in a steamer we might do so, miss renshaw; but the channels are so narrow and intricate, and the tides and currents run with such violence, that sailing-vessels hardly ever attempt the passage. the straits we shall go through lie between tierra del fuego and the group of islands of which the horn is the most southerly." "is the country inhabited?" "yes, by races of the most debased savages, with whom, i can assure you, i have no desire whatever to make any personal acquaintance." "not even to collect botanical specimens, mr. atherton?" the girl asked, smiling. "not even for that purpose, miss renshaw. i will do a good deal in pursuance of my favourite hobby, but i draw the line at the savages of tierra del fuego. very few white men have ever fallen into their hands and lived to tell the tale, and certainly i should have no chance whatever." "why would you have less chance than other people, mr. atherton?" "my attractions would be irresistible," mr. atherton replied gravely. "i should furnish meat for a whole tribe." "how horrible!" marion exclaimed. "what! are they cannibals?" "very much so indeed; and one can hardly blame them, for it is the only chance they have of getting flesh. their existence is one long struggle with famine and cold. they are not hunters, and are but poor fishermen. i firmly believe that if i were in their place i should be a cannibal myself." "how can you say such things?" marion asked indignantly. "i never know whether you are in earnest, mr. atherton. i am sure you would never be a cannibal." "there is no saying what one might be if one were driven to it," he replied placidly. "anyhow, i trust that i shall never be driven to it. in my various journeyings and adventures i am happy to say that i have never been forced to experience a prolonged fast, and it is one of the things i have no inclination to try. this weather is perfection, is it not?" he went on, changing the subject. "the _flying scud_ is making capital way. i only hope it may last. it is sad to think that we shall soon exchange these balmy breezes for a biting wind. we are just saying, wilfrid," he went on as the lad strolled up to them, "that you will soon have to lay aside your white flannels and put on a greatcoat and muffler." "i shall not be sorry," wilfrid replied. "after a month of hot weather one wants bracing up a bit, and i always enjoy cold." "then you should have gone out and settled in iceland instead of new zealand." "i should not have minded that, mr. atherton. there is splendid fishing, i believe, and sealing, and all that sort of thing. but i do not suppose the others would have liked it. i am sure father would not. he cannot bear cold, and his study at home used always to be kept up at almost the temperature of an oven all the winter. i should think new zealand would exactly suit him." before the sun set they had the satisfaction of sailing out of the muddy water of the la plata, and of being once more in the bright blue sea. for the next week the _flying scud_ sailed merrily southward without adventure. the air grew sensibly cooler each day, and the light garments of the tropics were already exchanged for warmer covering. "do you always get this sort of weather down here, captain?" mrs. renshaw asked. "not always, mrs. renshaw. the weather is generally fine, i admit, but occasionally short but very violent gales sweep down from off the land. they are known as pamperos; because, i suppose, they come from the pampas. they are very dangerous from the extreme suddenness with which they sweep down. if they are seen coming, and the vessel can be stripped of her canvas in time, there is little danger to be apprehended, for they are as short as they are violent." "we have been wonderfully fortunate altogether so far," mrs. renshaw said. "we have not had a single gale since we left england. i trust that our good luck will continue to the end." "i hope so too," the captain said. "i grant that a spell of such weather as we have been favoured with is apt to become a little monotonous, and i generally find my passengers have a tendency after a time to become snappish and quarrelsome from sheer want of anything to occupy their minds. still i would very much rather put up with that than with the chances of a storm." "people must be very foolish to get out of temper because everything is going on well," mrs. renshaw said. "i am sure i find it perfectly delightful sailing on as we do." "then you see, madam, you are an indefatigable worker. i never see your hands idle; but to people who do not work, a long voyage of unbroken weather must, i can very well understand, be monotonous. of course with us who have duties to perform it is different. i have often heard passengers wish for what they call a good gale, but i have never heard a sailor who has once experienced one express such a wish. however staunch the ship, a great gale is a most anxious time for all concerned in the navigation of a vessel. it is, too, a time of unremitting hardship. there is but little sleep to be had; all hands are constantly on deck, and are continually wet to the skin. great seas sweep over a ship, and each man has literally his life in his hand, for he may at any moment be torn from his hold and washed overboard, or have his limbs broken by some spar or hen-coop or other object swept along by the sea. it always makes me angry when i hear a passenger express a wish for a gale, in thoughtless ignorance of what he is desiring. if a storm comes we must face it like men; and in a good ship like the _flying scud_, well trimmed and not overladen, and with plenty of sea-room, we may feel pretty confident as to the result; but that is a very different thing from wishing to have one." by the time they were a fortnight out from buenos ayres, mr. atherton and james allen were both off the sick-list; indeed the latter had been but a week in the doctor's hands. the adventure had bound the little party more closely together than before. the allens had quite settled that when their friends once established themselves on a holding, they would, if possible, take one up in the neighbourhood; and they and the young renshaws often regretted that mr. atherton was only a bird of passage, and had no intention of fixing himself permanently in the colony. the air had grown very much colder of late, and the light clothes they had worn in the tropics had already been discarded, and in the evening all were glad to put on warm wraps when they came on deck. "i think," the captain said as mr. renshaw came up for his customary walk before breakfast, "we are going to have a change. the glass has fallen a good deal, and i did not like the look of the sun when it rose this morning." "it looks to me very much as usual," mr. renshaw replied, shading his eyes and looking at the sun, "except perhaps that it is not quite so bright." "not so bright by a good deal," the captain said. "there is a change in the colour of the sky--it is not so blue. the wind has fallen too, and i fancy by twelve o'clock there will be a calm. of course we cannot be surprised if we do have a change. we have had a splendid spell of weather, and we are getting into stormy latitudes now." when the passengers went up after breakfast they found that the _flying scud_ was scarcely moving through the water. the sails hung idly against the masts, and the yards creaked as the vessel rose and fell slightly on an almost invisible swell. "this would be a good opportunity," the captain said cheerfully, "to get down our light spars; the snugger we are the better for rounding the horn. mr. ryan, send all hands aloft, and send down all spars over the topmast." the crew swarmed up the rigging, and in two hours the _flying scud_ was stripped of the upper yards and lofty spars. "she looks very ugly," marion renshaw said. "do you not think so, mary?" "hideous," mary mitford agreed. "she is in fighting trim now," mr. atherton said. "yes, but who are we going to fight?" marion asked. "we are going to have a skirmish with the weather, i fancy, miss renshaw. i don't say we are going to have a storm," he went on as the girls looked anxiously up at the sky, "but you can see for yourselves that there is a change since yesterday. the wind has dropped and the sky is dull and hazy, the sea looks sullen, the bright little waves we were accustomed to are all gone, and as you see by the motion of the vessel there is an underground swell, though we can scarcely notice it on the water." "which way do you think the wind will come from, mr. atherton?" mary mitford asked. "i fancy it will come from the west, or perhaps north-west. look at those light streaks of cloud high up in the air; they are travelling to the southeast." "look how fast they are going," mary mitford said as she looked up, "and we have not a breath of wind here." "we shall have it soon," mr. atherton said. "you see that dark line on the water coming up from the west. i am glad to see it. it is very much better to have the wind freshen up gradually to a gale than to lie becalmed until it strikes you suddenly." the girls stood at the poop-rail watching the sailors engaged in putting lashings on to every movable object on deck. in ten minutes the dark line came up to them, and the _flying scud_ began to move through the water. the courses were brailed up and stowed. the wind rapidly increased in strength, and the captain presently requested the passengers to go below, or at any rate to give up their seats. "there is nothing like having the deck cleared," he said. "if it comes on to blow a bit and there is any movement, the chairs would be charging about from side to side, and will not only break themselves up, but perhaps break someone's leg." four sailors folded up the chairs, piled them together, and passing cords over them lashed them to two ring-bolts. "now, mr. ryan, we will get the topsails reefed at once. there is a heavy bank there to windward, and we had best get everything as snug as possible before that comes up to us." the dark bank of mist rose rapidly, and the sailors had but just reached the deck after closely reefing the topsails before it was close upon them. "now, ladies, please go below," the captain said sharply. "there is rain as well as wind in the clouds; it will come down in bucketfuls when it does come." this had the desired effect of sending most of the male passengers down as well as the ladies. a few remained near the companion ready to make a dive below when the squall struck them. suddenly the wind ceased and the topsails flapped against the masts. there was a confused roaring sound astern, and a broad white line came along at race-horse speed towards the vessel. "get below, lads," mr. atherton said as he led the way, "or you will be drenched in a moment." they had but just reached the cabin when there was a deafening roar overhead, and almost at the same moment the vessel started as if struck by a heavy blow. "rain and wind together!" mr. atherton shouted in reply to the chorus of questions from those below. "now, all you have got to do is to make yourselves comfortable, for there will be no going up again for some time." for five minutes the tremendous downpour continued, and then ceased as suddenly as it commenced. the wind had dropped too; and the silence after the uproar was startling. it lasted but a few seconds; then the wind again struck the ship with even greater force than before, although, as she had not lost her way, the blow was less felt by those below. in five minutes the captain came below with his oil-skin coat and sou'-wester streaming with wet. "i have just looked down to tell you," he said cheerfully, "that everything is going on well. the first burst of these gales is always the critical point, and we can congratulate ourselves that we have got through it without losing a spar or sail--thanks to our having had sufficient warning to get all snug, and to the gale striking us gradually. i am afraid you won't have a very comfortable time of it for the next day or two; but there is nothing to be at all uneasy about. the gale is off the land, and we have sea-room enough for anything. now we have got rid of half our cargo the ship is in her very best trim, and though we may get her decks washed a bit by and by, she will be none the worse for that." so saying he again went up on deck. for the next three days the gale blew with fury. there were no regular meals taken below, for the vessel rolled so tremendously that nothing would have remained on the plates and dishes; and the passengers were forced to content themselves with biscuit, with an occasional cup of coffee or basin of soup that the cook managed to warm up for them. the ladies for the most part kept their cabins, as did many of the male passengers, and the absence of regular meals was the less felt as the majority were suffering from sea-sickness. wilfrid was occasionally ill, but managed to keep up, and from time to time went on deck for a few minutes, while marion spent most of her time on a seat at the top of the companion, looking out on the sea. it was a magnificent sight. tremendous waves were following the ship, each as it approached lifting her stern high in the air and driving her along at a speed that seemed terrific, then passing on and leaving her to sink down into the valley behind it. the air was thick with flying spray torn from the crest of the waves. at first it seemed as if each sea that came up behind the vessel would break over her stern and drive her head-foremost down; but as wave passed after wave without damage the sense of anxiety passed off, and marion was able to enjoy the grandeur of the sea. wilfrid, mr. atherton, and the allens often came in to sit with her, and to take shelter for a time from the fury of the wind. but talking was almost impossible; the roar of the wind in the rigging, the noise of the waves as they struck the ship, and the confused sound of the battle of the elements being too great to allow a voice to be heard, except when raised almost to shouting point. but marion had no inclination for talking. snugly as mr. atherton had wedged her in with pillows and cushions, it was as much as she could do to retain her seat, as the vessel rolled till the lower yards almost touched the water, and she was too absorbed in the wild grandeur of the scene to want companionship. "the captain says the glass is beginning to rise," mr. atherton said as he met her the fourth morning of the gale; "and that he thinks the worst is over." "i shall be glad for the sake of the others," marion replied, "for the sea to go down. father and mother are both quite worn out; for it is almost impossible for them to sleep, as they might be thrown out of their berths if they did not hold on. for myself, i am in no hurry for the gale to be over, it is so magnificently grand. don't you think so, mr. atherton?" "it is grand, lassie, no doubt," mr. atherton said; "but i have rather a weakness for dry clothes and comfortable meals--to say nothing of being able to walk or sit perpendicularly, and not being obliged constantly to hold on for bare life. this morning i feel that under happier circumstances i could enjoy a steak, an irish stew, and a couple of eggs, but a biscuit and a cup of coffee are all i can hope for." "i believe you enjoy it as much as i do, mr. atherton," the girl said indignantly; "else why do you stay upon deck all the time in spite of the wind and spray?" "well, you see, miss renshaw, you ladies have an objection to my smoking my pipe below; and besides, what with the groans and moans from the cabins, and the clatter of the swinging trays, and the noise of the waves, and one thing and another, there is little to tempt me to stay below. but really i shall be very glad when it is over. the ship has been doing splendidly; and as the wind has blown from the same quarter the whole time, the sea though very high is regular, and everything is going on well. still a gale is a gale, and you can never answer for the vagaries of the wind. if it were to veer round to another quarter, for instance, you would in a few hours get a broken sea here that would astonish you, and would try all the qualities of the _flying scud_. then again we have been running south with tremendous speed for the last three days, and if it were to go on for a few days longer we might find ourselves down among the ice. therefore, i say, the sooner the gale is over the better i shall be pleased." towards evening there was a sensible abatement in the force of the wind, and the following morning the gale had so far abated that the captain prepared to haul his course for the west. "we have been running south at the rate of fully three hundred miles a day," he said, "and are now very far down. the moment this warm wind drops and we get it from the south you will find that you will need every wrap you have to keep you warm. if the gale had lasted i had made up my mind to try to get her head to it, and to lie to. we are a great deal too close to the region of ice to be pleasant." the change in the course of the vessel was by no means appreciated by the passengers, for the motion was very much rougher and more unpleasant than that to which they had now become accustomed. however, by the following morning the wind had died away to a moderate breeze, and the sea had very sensibly abated. the topsails were shaken out of their reefs; and although the motion was still violent most of the passengers emerged from their cabins and came on deck to enjoy the sun, which was now streaming brightly through the broken clouds. the captain was in high glee; the ship had weathered the gale without the slightest damage. not a rope had parted, not a sail been blown away, and the result fully justified the confidence he felt in his ship and her gear. "it is a comfort," he remarked, "to sail under liberal owners. now, my people insist on having their ships as well found as possible, and if i condemn spars, sails, ropes, or stays, they are replaced without a question. and it is the cheapest policy in the long run. there is nothing so costly as stinginess on board a ship. the giving way of a stay may mean the loss of the mast and all its gear, and that may mean the loss of a ship. the blowing away of a sail at a critical moment may mean certain disaster; and yet there are many owners who grudge a fathom of new rope or a bolt of canvas, and who will risk the safety of their vessels for the petty economy of a few pounds." the next day the wind had dropped entirely. the topgallant masts were sent up with their yards and sails, and by dinner-time the _flying scud_ looked more like herself. as soon as the wind lulled all on board were conscious of a sudden fall of temperature. bundles of wraps were undone and greatcoats and cloaks got out, and although the sun was still shining brightly the poop of the _flying scud_ soon presented a wintry appearance. there was no sitting about now. even the ladies had abandoned their usual work, and by the sharp walking up and down on deck it was evident that even the warm wraps were insufficient in themselves, and that brisk exercise was necessary to keep up the circulation. "well, what do you think of this, mrs. renshaw?" mr. atherton asked. "i like it," she said decidedly; "but it is certainly a wonderfully sudden change from summer to winter. my husband does not like it at all. we never agreed on the subject of temperature. he liked what i call a close study, while i enjoy a sharp walk well wrapped up on a winter's day." "i agree with you," mr. atherton said. "i can bear any amount of cold, but heat completely knocks me up. but then, you see, the cold never has a chance of penetrating to my bones." "which course shall we take now, do you suppose? south of cape horn or through the straits?" "it will depend upon the winds we meet with, i imagine," mr. atherton replied. "if the wind continues from the south, i should say the captain would keep well south of the horn; but if it heads us from the west at all, we may have to go through the straits, which, personally, i own that i should prefer. it has gone round nearly a point since i came on deck this morning. if it goes round a bit more we certainly shall not be able to lay our course round the horn, for i do not think we are far to the south of it now." by evening the wind had hauled farther to the west, and the ship's head pointed more to the north than it had done in the morning. the passengers enjoyed the change, for the temperature had risen rapidly, and many of the warm wraps that had been got up were laid aside. at twelve o'clock the captain had taken observations, and found that the ship's position was nearly due south of the falkland isles. "we had a narrow squeak of it, mr. ryan," he said to the first-mate. "all the time we were running before that gale i had that group of islands on my mind." "so had i, sir," the mate replied. "i was praying all the time that the wind would keep a bit to the west of north, for i knew that when it began our position was, as near as may be, due north of them. i guessed what you were thinking of when you told the man at the wheel to edge away to the east as much as he dared, though that was mighty little." "by my reckoning," the captain said, "we could not have passed more than thirty miles to the east of them. we have made about eighty miles of westing since we got on our course, and we are now just on the longitude of the westermost point of the islands. they are about a hundred miles to the north of us." the wind continued from the same quarter, and on taking his observation on the following day the captain announced that if there were no change he reckoned upon just making the mouth of the straits between tierra del fuego and the islands. on going on deck two mornings later land was seen on the port bow. "there is cape horn," the captain said; "that lofty peak covered with snow. the island nearest to us is herschel island. the large island not far from the horn is wollaston island. as you see, there are several others. it is not the sort of place one would like to come down upon in a gale, and if i had had my choice i would rather have gone a hundred miles south of the horn. but the wind would not allow us to lie that course, and after the gale we had the other day we have a right to reckon upon finer weather, and in light winds it might have taken us another two or three days beating round." "the wind is very light now," mr. renshaw remarked. "yes, and i am afraid it will be lighter still presently," the captain said. the vessel made but slow way, and in the afternoon the wind dropped altogether. the _flying scud_ was now two or three miles from the coast of tierra del fuego, and the passengers examined the inhospitable-looking coast through their glasses. at one or two points light wreaths of smoke were seen curling up, telling of encampments of the natives. "i think, mr. ryan," the captain said, "i will take her in and anchor in one of the bays this breath of air might be enough to move her through the water if she were going free, but it is nearly dead ahead of us now. i do not like the idea of drifting all night along this coast. besides, we may be able to get some fish from the natives, which will be a change for the passengers." the vessel's head was turned towards the shore, and now that the light air was well on the beam it sufficed to enable the vessel to steal through the water at the rate of about a knot an hour. at about four o'clock the anchor was dropped in a bay at a distance of half a mile from land, the sails were furled, and the passengers watched the shores in hopes that some native craft might make its appearance; but there was no sign of life. "either the natives have no fish to sell, or rather exchange," the captain said, "for, of course, money is of no use to them, or they are afraid of us. maybe they have been massacring some shipwrecked crew, and believe we are a ship-of-war come down to punish them. at any rate, they seem determined not to show." the next morning the sea was as smooth as glass, and there was not a breath of air. "would you let us have a boat, captain?" mr. atherton asked. "it will make a pleasant change, and perhaps some of the natives might come off and sell us fish, as they would not be afraid of us as they might be of the ship." "yes, if you like to make up a party, mr. atherton, you can have a boat; but you must not land. the natives are very treacherous, and it would not be safe to set foot on shore. mr. ryan, will you get the cutter into the water after breakfast? you had better take with you two or three muskets. i do not think there is any fear of an attack, and besides you could out-row the native craft, still it is always as well to be prepared." mr. atherton soon made up his party. wilfrid and the two allens were delighted at the offer, and marion and the miss mitfords also petitioned to be allowed to go, although mr. atherton had not intended to take ladies with him. two other young men named hardy and wilson were also invited to join, and this made up the complement that the cutter could carry in comfort. the crew consisted of six sailors at the oars, and mr. ryan himself took the helm. "you had better wrap up well," mr. atherton said to the girls, "for you will find it cold sitting in a boat. the thermometer must be down near freezing-point." mr. atherton was the last to take his seat, and he brought with him his rifle. "why, what are you going to shoot, mr. atherton?" marion asked. "i do not know that i am going to shoot anything," he replied; "but it is always well to be prepared. you see i have made preparations in other ways," he added as the steward handed him down a large basket, which he placed in the stern-sheets. "but we are only going for an hour or two, mr. atherton," wilfrid remarked. "we cannot want anything to eat when we have only just finished breakfast." "i do not think it at all likely we shall want to open the hamper, wilfrid; but you see it is always best to be prepared. the weather looks perfectly settled, but, like the natives of these parts, it is treacherous. as i proposed this expedition i feel a sort of responsibility, and have therefore, you see, taken precautions against every contingency." "i do not think there is any chance of a change," mr. ryan said. "it looks as if the calm might last for a week. still, one can never be wrong in preparing for the worst. besides, this cold weather gives one a wonderful appetite, and a drop of the cratur never comes amiss." by this time the boat was fairly away from the ship, and the sailors, who like the passengers regarded the expedition as a pleasant change, stretched out to their oars. the mate steered for the headland to the west, and after passing it kept the boat at a distance of a few hundred yards from the shore. "is there any current here, mr. ryan?" wilfrid asked as he watched the rocks and low stunted trees. "very little," the mate replied. "sometimes it runs very strongly here, but at present it is not much to speak of. i do not think it was running more than a quarter of a mile an hour past the ship, but no doubt there is a good deal more farther out." to the disappointment of those on board there were no signs of natives. "it will be very tiresome if they do not come out," marion said. "i want to see a real cannibal." "i do not so much care about the cannibals, miss renshaw, but i want to see their fish. i have not tasted a really decent fish since i left england; but in these cold waters they ought to be as good as they are at home. i believe the natives catch them by spearing them by torch-light, and in that case they ought to be good-sized fellows." the men after the first start had dropped into a long, steady stroke, and as the boat glided along past bay and headland no one paid any attention to time, until the mate, looking at his watch, said: "faith, we have been gone an hour and a half; i clean forgot all about time. i think we had better be turning. it will be dinner-time before we reach the ship as it is." the boat's head was turned. "i think," the mate went on, "we may as well steer from headland to headland, instead of keeping round the bays. it will save a good bit of distance, and the natives evidently do not mean to show themselves." "they are very provoking," miss mitford said. "i can see smoke among the trees over there, and i have no doubt that they are watching us although we cannot see them." "you ought to have waved your handkerchief as we came along, miss mitford," james allen remarked; "or to have stood up and shown yourselves. they would no doubt have come off then and offered presents in token of admiration." the girls laughed. "i do not suppose they would appreciate our charms," miss mitford said. "they are not in their line, you see." "that they certainly are not, miss mitford," the mate laughed. "i saw some of them the last time i came through here, and hideous-looking creatures they are, and wear no clothes to speak of." so laughing and chatting with their eyes fixed on the shore the party never looked seaward, until a sudden exclamation from the mate called their attention to that direction. "be jabers!" he exclaimed, "here is a sea-fog rolling down on us from the south!" they looked and saw what seemed like a wall of white smoke rolling along the water towards them. at this moment the boat was about half-way between two headlands, which were a mile and a half apart, and the shore abreast of it was three-quarters of a mile distant. the sun was shining brightly upon the rolling mist, and the girls uttered an exclamation of admiration. "how fast it comes!" marion said. "why, it will be here directly!" the mate put the tiller a-starboard. "row, men!" he said in a sharp voice; for they had for a moment ceased to pull. "have you a compass?" mr. atherton asked in low tones. the mate shook his head. "i am no better than an idiot to have come without one," he said. "but who could have dreamt we should want it?" a minute later a light wreath of mist crossed the boat, and almost immediately the great fog-bank rolled over it. an exclamation broke from several of those on board. so sudden was the change of temperature that it seemed as if an icy hand had been laid upon them. "it is fortunate that we are not far from shore," mr. atherton said to the mate. "there is nothing for it but to coast along close in." "that is the only thing to do," mr. ryan replied. "but it will be an awkward business; for, as we noticed when we came along, the shore is in many places studded with rocks. however, we must risk that, and by going on slowly and carefully we may get off with slight damage even if we hit one. it is not as if the water was rough." the fog was so thick that they could scarcely see the ends of the oar-blades. "how are we to find the ship?" marion asked. "there will be no difficulty about that, miss renshaw. they will be sure to be firing guns as signals for us. there!" he broke off as the boom of a cannon came across the water. "besides, with the land on our right hand and this icy breeze from the south, we cannot go far out of our way." "row easy, men," the mate commanded. "we cannot be far from shore now, and we must begin to look out sharp for rocks. row light and aisy, and do not make more noise with your oars than you can help. the natives may be listening for us; and we do not want a shower of spears in the boat. mr. allen, will you go forward into the bows, and keep a sharp look-out for rocks?" james allen went forward, and two or three minutes later cried, "easy all! hold her up!" quickly as the order was obeyed the boat's stem grated on the shore before her way was lost. "back her off, lads!" the mate cried. as the boat glided off into deep water again there was a yell from the shore, and a dozen spears struck the water round her. fortunately none of them struck her, for she was invisible to the natives, who had been guided to the spot by the sound of the oars. "not an encouraging reception," mr. atherton remarked quietly. "well, ladies, you have not seen the cannibals as yet, but you have heard them. i think the best plan, mr. ryan, will be to tear up one of these rugs and muffle the oars." "i think we may as well do so," the mate replied "however, their sharp ears are sure to hear us if we are close inshore, and we dare not go far out or we might lose our bearings altogether." "i do not think we can do that. in the first place, you see, there is the breeze that brought down the fog to guide us, and in the second the guns of the ship. we cannot go far wrong with them; and i should say that when we once get out as far as we believe the headland to lie, the best thing will be to steer direct for the ship. the danger in that way would certainly be far less than it is from rocks and savages if we keep near the shore." "i think you are right. we will row straight out against the wind for a quarter of an hour, that will take us clear of the headland, and we will then shape our course direct for the guns." chapter vi. putting in the refit. the boat rowed steadily in the course that was believed would take them straight out to sea, the mate listening attentively for the sound of the distant guns. the reports came up every two or three minutes, their sound muffled by the fog. "sure it's mighty difficult to tell where the sound comes from, but i think it is well over there on our beam. do not you think so?" the mate asked mr. atherton. "i think so; yes, i feel sure that we are rowing nearly due south. even without the sound of the guns i should feel sure that we cannot at present be far out of that course. i noticed that as we came along you hardly had to use any helm, and that the strength on both sides was very evenly balanced. so that starting out as we did from the shore, we must be travelling pretty straight. of course in the long run we should be sure to sweep round one way or the other and lose our bearings altogether were it not for the guns. wilfrid, we will appoint you time-keeper." "what am i to keep time of, mr. atherton?" "you are to keep time of the guns. i think they are firing about every three minutes, but you had better time the first two or three. if you find them three minutes apart, it will be your duty a quarter of a minute before the gun is due to say in a loud voice 'stop,' then all conversation is to cease till we hear the report. unless we are all silent and listening, it is very difficult to judge the exact direction from which the sound comes, and it is important to keep as straight a line as we can. there is the gun now, begin to count." [illustration: a dozen spears struck the water round her _page _] "i think we can turn our head in that direction now," the mate said. "it is just twenty minutes since we left the shore, and we ought to be fully a mile out beyond the headland." "i quite agree with you. we have certainly a clear course now to the ship if we do not make any blunder in keeping it." the mate put the tiller a-starboard. "i wonder how long i am to keep it over?" he said. "it is a queer sensation steering without having an idea which way you are going." "the next gun will tell us whether we have gone too far round or not far enough," mr. atherton observed. "well, we will try that," the mate said after a short pause. "i should think we ought to have made half a turn now." "stop!" wilfrid exclaimed a minute later. "easy rowing, lads, and listen for the gun." the mate ordered silence in the boat. half a minute later the report of the gun was again heard. there was a general exclamation of surprise, for instead of coming, as they expected, from a point somewhere ahead, it seemed to them all that the sound was almost astern of them. "now, who would have thought that?" the mate said. "i had no idea she had gone round so far. well, we must try again, and go to work more gently this time. row on, men!" the tiller was put slightly a-port, and the boat continued her way. the talk that had gone on among the passengers was now hushed. mr. atherton had been chatting gaily with the girls from the time the fog came on, and except at the moment when they went ashore and were attacked by the natives, no uneasiness had been felt, for the sound of the guns had seemed to all an assurance that there could be no difficulty in rejoining the ship. the discovery that for a moment they had been actually going away from the ship had, for the first time since they rowed away from the shore, caused a feeling of real uneasiness, and when wilfrid again gave notice that the report would soon be heard, all listened intently, and there was a general exclamation of satisfaction when the sound was heard nearly ahead. "we have got it now," the mate said. "row on, lads; a long steady stroke and we shall be in before dinner is cold yet." the conversation now recommenced. "is it any use my stopping here any longer?" jim allen cried from the bow; "because if not i will come aft to you. it is a good deal warmer sitting together than it is out here by myself." "yes, you may as well come aft," the mate replied. "as long as we keep the guns ahead we know that we are clear of rocks. it certainly has come on bitterly cold." there was a general chorus of assent. "i should think it would be a good thing, ryan, to get the sail aft and unlash it from the gaff and put it over our legs, it will make a lot of difference in the warmth." "i think that that is a very good idea," the mate assented. "lay in your oar for a minute, johnson, and get that sail aft." the sail was passed aft, unlashed from the yard, and spread out, adding considerably to the comfort of all those sitting astern; and now that the ship's guns were booming ahead, and they had become accustomed to the thick curtain of cloud hanging round them, the feeling of uneasiness that the girls had felt was entirely dissipated, and mr. atherton had no longer any occasion to use his best efforts to keep up their spirits. all laughed and chatted over their adventure, which, as they said, far exceeded in interest anything they had been promised when they started from the ship. the only drawback, as they all agreed, was the cold, which was indeed really severe. "we do not seem to come up to the guns as we ought to," mr. atherton said to the mate after the boat had been rowing for some time. "that is just what i was thinking," mr. ryan replied. "i fancy we must have got a strong current out here against us." "i expect we have. ryan, i tell you what. the men have been rowing for some hours now since they left the ship, i think it would be a good thing if our youngsters were to relieve some of them for a spell. what do you say, lads?" wilfrid, the allens, hardy, and wilson all exclaimed that they should be delighted to take a turn, as it would warm their blood. "we shall be able to give them all a spell," mr. atherton said, "for there are just six of us." "i am certainly not going to let you pull, and you scarcely out of the doctor's hand," the mate said bluntly. "why, you must be mad to think of such a thing! here, do you take the tiller and i will row the stroke-oar. easy all, lads; put on your jackets. four of you come aft, and the other two go into the bows." "i wish we could row," marion said regretfully, as the new crew bent to their oars. "i have done a lot of rowing at home, mr. atherton, and they say i row very fairly." "i am afraid you would not be of much assistance here, young lady," mr. atherton said. "it's one thing to work a light well-balanced oar such as you use in a gig up the river, but it is a very different one to tug away at one of these heavy oars in a sea-going boat like this with ten sitters in her. we shall want all our strength to get back, you may be sure. there must be a strong current against us, and there is little chance of our being back, as we hoped, by dinner-time." after the men had had half an hour's rest mr. ryan told them to take their seats and double bank the oars. "we shall travel all the faster," he said to mr. atherton, "and now that they have got their wind again it is far better that they should be rowing than sitting still. the guns are a good deal nearer now. i do not think that the ship can be more than a mile or a mile and a half away." "i do not suppose she is," mr. atherton replied. "i think i will fire off my rifle two or three times. they ought to be able to hear it now, and it will relieve their minds." he discharged his rifle four or five times, and they fancied that they heard shots in return. "hullo!" mr. atherton exclaimed suddenly. "easy all! hold her up hard all!" although the order was entirely unexpected it was given so sharply that it was instantly obeyed, and the boat was brought to a stand-still before she had advanced another length. then the rowers looked round to see what had been the occasion of the sudden order. in front of them, scarce ten feet away, towered up a dark mass of rock. they could only see it ahead of the boat, and how high it was or how far it extended on either side they knew not. "why, what is this?" the mate said in astonishment. "we did not notice any islands as we came along. it has been a narrow escape, for at the rate at which we were going through the water we should have stove in our bow had we run on it." "we have had a narrower escape than we deserve," mr. atherton said. "i cannot think how we can have been so foolish." "what do you mean?" the mate asked. "why we have been steering straight for the guns, have we not?" "of course we have." "well, we ought not to have done so. if the ship had been lying well out from the land it would have been all right; but she is lying in a deep bay, and of course a straight course to her from the point we started from would take us just where we are, that is ashore, on the other side of the headland." "of course it would. we ought to have kept well to seaward of the guns till they bore right on our beam, and then headed in to her. well, fortunately no harm has been done, but we have had a mighty narrow escape. if the fog had been as thick as it was when it first came down upon us we should have gone right into it before we saw it." the boat was turned and rowed out to sea for some distance, then they again headed her in the direction in which they wished to go, but keeping the guns well in shore of them until they judged by the sound that they were nearly opposite to her, then they rowed straight towards her. the sound of their oars was heard, and a loud hail informed them of the exact position of the ship, and two or three minutes later a dark image loomed up in front of the boat. "all well, mr. ryan?" the captain shouted. "all well, sir." "you have given us a great fright," the captain went on. "we expected you back at least two hours ago, thinking of course you would have returned when the fog set in, even if you had not done so before." "we had turned, sir, before the fog rolled in; but what with losing our way, and the difficulty of keeping our course in the fog, and the fact that there is, we think, a strong current that was running against us further out, we have been a long time coming back. so, you see, we have double banked all the oars." by this time they were lying by the gangway. it was found that the girls in spite of their wraps were so stiff with the cold that they had to be assisted up the gangway to the deck. exercise warmed the blood of the rest, and they were soon on deck. mr. atherton, who alone of the men had not been rowing, had some little difficulty in getting up, although, as he said, he had no more right to feel cold than a walrus, protected as he was by nature. there had been much anxiety on board until the shots fired by mr. atherton were heard. the captain had ordered plenty of hot soup to be got ready, and the girls soon felt in a comfortable glow. mr. atherton gave a comical account of their adventures, but he did not conceal the fact that at one time their position had been really a perilous one, and that if they had not been pretty vigilant they might have fallen into the hands of the natives. "well, all is well that ends well," mr. renshaw said, "but i think we will have no more boat excursions as long as we are in the neighbourhood of cannibals. of course no one could have foreseen the fog coming on so suddenly, but you have evidently all had a narrow escape." those who had taken part in the adventure, however, were highly pleased with their share in it, and agreed that although perhaps at the time it was unpleasant it was very exciting, and was an incident that they should never forget all their lives. the fog continued for three days, at the end of which time an easterly wind set in and the air cleared, and the _flying scud_ weighed her anchor and proceeded on her voyage. ten days later a gale set in from the south. the cold was intense, and the spray as it flew from her bows cased her fore-rigging and deck with ice. the wind increased hourly in fury, and the captain decided to run before it. "we have plenty of sea-room," he said, "and shall get out of this bitter cold as we get further north. it will not last long, i daresay." day after day, however, the gale continued, seeming to increase rather than diminish in force. on the morning of the sixth day after it had begun the passengers heard a tremendous crash on deck. wilfrid ran up the companion and looked out, and reported that the mainmast and the fore-top-mast had gone overboard. fortunately the gust that had done this damage proved to be the climax of the gale; by nightfall its force had sensibly abated, and two days later it fell to a calm, and all hands set to work to repair damages. "i have no spar that will be of any use for a mainmast," the captain said. "we must content ourselves with getting up a fore-top-mast and then under what sail we can set upon that and the mizzen make for one of the islands and try to get a good-sized spar for the mainmast. i reckon that we are not more than two hundred and fifty miles from the austral group. we have been blown nearly twenty degrees north." three days later land was seen ahead, and this the captain, after taking an observation, declared to be malayta, one of the largest islands of the group. "i would rather have gone on under this reduced sail," he said to mr. atherton, in whom he had great confidence, "if we had been sure of fine weather; but that we cannot reckon upon at this time of year, and i should not like to be caught in another gale in this crippled state so near the islands. so of the two evils i consider it the least to go in and try and get a spar that will do for our purpose." "what is the evil of going in?" mr. atherton asked. "the natives," the captain replied shortly. "they are a treacherous lot in all these islands; but the australs bear a particularly bad reputation, and we shall have to be very careful in our dealings with them." "well, as we are forewarned they are not likely to take us by surprise, captain; and as with the crew and passengers we can muster a pretty strong force, we ought to be able to beat off any open attack." "yes, i think we could do that," the captain agreed. "if i did not think so i would not put in, but would take the chance of our making our way, crippled as we are, to new zealand. the thing we shall have to guard against is a sudden and treacherous onslaught; the crews of many ships have been massacred owing to carelessness and over-confidence. however, we will not be caught napping, and i therefore hope to get off unscathed." as they neared the land the passengers were delighted with the aspect of the shore. groves of trees came down to the very edge of the water; in the interior the land was high, but was covered to the summit of the hills with foliage. as they approached, and the captain gave orders to prepare for anchoring, they could see a number of natives gathered on the narrow strip of sands close to the water. they were waving boughs of trees in token of friendship, and were, as far as could be seen by the aid of a telescope, unarmed. "they look friendly, mother," marion said after watching them through the glass. "won't it be nice to land and take a walk among those feathery-looking trees. there will be no fear of fogs or cold here, the temperature is quite perfect." "you will not land, i can assure you, young lady," the captain, who was passing by and overheard her, said. "those fellows look friendly enough, i agree, but there are no more treacherous rascals among the islanders of the pacific. i shall give them as wide a berth as i can, and get them if possible to cut a spar and tow it out to us, instead of sending a party on shore to fetch it. no one will leave this ship with my permission, unless it be a boat's party armed to the teeth to fetch water. these fellows are as treacherous as the natives of tierra del fuego, and vastly more warlike and dangerous." "are they cannibals, captain?" mrs. renshaw asked. "that i cannot tell you for certain, mrs. renshaw. they are thieves and murderers, but whether they eat human flesh is more than i can tell. it does not concern me greatly whether if they kill me they eat me afterwards or not; but i do not mean to give them the chance of killing me or any of us, i can assure you." "after the character you have given me of them i have no longer the slightest inclination to land, captain." as soon as the vessel came to an anchor a number of canoes put out, laden with yams, cocoa-nuts, and other vegetables and fruit for exchange. had they been allowed they would have come alongside and climbed up to the deck, but the captain would not permit them to come within thirty or forty yards. although there was no one on board who could speak their language, his emphatic gestures were understood by the natives, and were sufficient to show them that he was not to be trifled with. two boats only were allowed to approach at a time, and a guard of six sailors with muskets were placed on deck with orders to prevent anyone coming up, and to cover those who descended the gangway. the younger passengers thought that the captain was unnecessarily timid; but ready as he was to oblige them on ordinary occasions, they saw that this time it would be no use to try to change his determination that none should go on shore. going down the gangway they bargained with the natives, giving little articles in exchange for fruit. mr. atherton was evidently of the captain's opinion as to the necessity for prudence, and had stationed himself with his rifle near the gangway. "they look quite peaceful and cheerful," marion renshaw said to him. "do you think there is really any use in all these precautions, mr. atherton?" "i do indeed, miss renshaw. i do not think one can be too careful when dealing with people who are notoriously so treacherous." "are you a good shot with a rifle, mr. atherton?" "yes; although i say it myself, i am an exceptionally good shot. i have practised a great deal with the rifle, and have, i suppose, a natural aptitude for it; for when i fire i am morally certain of hitting my mark, though i am hardly conscious of taking aim." when the contents of a few boats had been taken on board the captain made signs that he required no more, and the natives, with looks of evident discontent, paddled back to the shore. "we shall have some chiefs off in the morning," the captain said. "to-day they have kept in the background, but seeing that we are wary and on our guard they will probably come off to-morrow to view matters for themselves. i shall let them perceive that i am well prepared, and it may be when they see this they will be inclined to do a little honest trading, and to bring off a strong spar with which we can at anyrate make a shift for our mainmast. we will keep watch and watch as if we were at sea. it is as likely as not some of their canoes may be coming out in the night to see if we are to be caught napping." "it is horrid," kate mitford said, as she with her sister, marion, and several of the younger passengers stood together that evening on the poop looking towards the shore. the young moon was sinking in the west, the stars shone with great brilliancy, and the water was as smooth as glass. the outline of the palms could be made out against the sky, and in several places the light of fires could be perceived, and the stillness of the evening was broken by the hum of distant voices. "it is really a shame that we cannot go ashore. i am sure the savages looked civil and friendly, and it would be delightful to wander about in such a wood as that." two or three voices were raised in assent. "have you heard the little story of the spider and the fly, miss kate?" mr. atherton said, moving across from the other side of the deck, where he was smoking a cigar. "in that case, you know, it was the prettiest little bower that ever you did espy, and perhaps the fly admired it just as much as you admire that grove ashore. the result of a visit would be identical in both cases. those on board other ships have been taken in by the peaceful appearance of the natives and the loveliness of the islands, and the result was fatal to them. personally, i should feel much more comfortable if i saw those savages putting out in a body in their canoes to attack the ship than i do now while they are keeping up this pretence of friendliness. an open danger one can meet, but when you know that treachery is intended, but have no idea what form it will take or when the mask of friendship will be thrown off, it is trying to the nerves. fortunately we know their character, and may hope to be ready when the danger comes. still the waiting is trying." "and you really feel that, mr. atherton?" marion renshaw asked. "i do indeed, miss renshaw. we may get away without trouble; but if so, it will be solely because the natives see that we are prepared for them and are not to be taken by surprise. seeing our crippled state, my own opinion is, that the natives will not let us go off without making at least one attempt to surprise us." mr. atherton spoke strongly, for he thought that it was possible that some of the youngsters might, unless thoroughly roused to a sense of danger, do something foolish and rash. his words had the effect desired. his share in the affair at rio had caused him to be regarded with respect and admiration by the young men on board, and they felt that if in his opinion the danger was grave it was not for them to doubt its reality. a vigilant watch was kept all night, and loaded muskets were served out to the watch on deck. the guns had been loaded before they anchored, and the spare muskets were placed so as to be handy for the watch below should they be suddenly called up. after the moon went down a light mist rose on the surface of the sea. several times during the night faint sounds were heard near the ship, but immediately the officer of the watch challenged, silence reigned for a considerable time. "how has the night passed, ryan?" mr. atherton asked the first officer as soon as he came on deck, just as daylight was breaking. "there have been some of them near us all night," mr. ryan replied. "i do not think they were in force, but they wanted to see whether we kept a sharp watch; and i think we have satisfied them as to that, for everytime the slightest noise was heard we hailed at once. i should like to have sent a musket-ball in the direction of the sound, but as we must get a spar, if possible, and shall be all the better for a score or two casks of fresh water, it won't do to begin to quarrel with them. once we get what we want on board the beggars may attack us as soon as they like. it would do them a world of good to get handsomely thrashed, and to be taught that vessels are not to be plundered with impunity." "as you say, it might do them good, but i hope there will be no trouble. i have no doubt whatever that we should beat them off, but we might lose some lives in doing it; besides, we have ladies on board." "i hope so too; and, prepared as we are, i should feel quite safe if it was not for that mast being gone. they know that we are comparative cripples, and no doubt looked upon us as lawful booty when they saw us making in; and i do not think they will let themselves be balked of their prey without an effort." "that is just my view of the matter, and i mean to keep a sharp look-out while we are here. you will all have your hands full, and i will get two or three of the young fellows to join with me in keeping a sharp watch over their doings." "that is a good plan," the mate agreed. "there will, as you say, be plenty for us to do, and it worries one to have to attend to work and to keep one's eyes at the back of one's head at the same time. of course we shall always have a watch set whatever we are doing, still i have more faith in your look-out than in that of half a dozen fo'castle hands." when the two allens and wilfrid came on deck mr. atherton drew them aside. "look here, lads," he began. "you heard what i said last night. i meant it, and i am sure i was not wrong, for there have been canoes hovering about us all night. now, in a short time the officers and crew will be seeing about getting water on board, and if the natives bring out a spar that will do as a jury mainmast there will be the work of trimming it, getting it into its place, and rigging it. my own opinion is, that now the natives see we are suspicious and on the watch they will for some time make a show of being extremely friendly so as to throw us off our guard, and as the officers and sailors will be busy they may possibly relax their precautions a little. now i propose that you and i shall constitute an amateur watch from sunrise to dark. after that the men's work will be done, and there will be no fear of their being taken by surprise. the real danger is, i think, in the daytime. wilfrid and i will take the second-mate's watch, and do you two take the first-mate's--that is, if you agree to my proposal." the three young fellows at once expressed their willingness to do as he directed them. "during our respective watches," mr. atherton went on, "we must keep our attention directed solely to the natives. there must be no watching what is going on on board, no talking and laughing with the other passengers; we must consider ourselves as if on duty. one of us must take his place on the fo'castle, the other in the waist. the natives are sure to hang round the ship in their canoes watching what we are doing, and offering things for sale. it will be our duty to keep a vigilant eye upon them, to watch every movement, to give instant warning if their number is at any time larger than usual, and, in fact, to prevent the possibility of their closing suddenly in upon us and taking us by surprise. remember, it is a case of absolute duty; i have volunteered to the first officer to undertake it, and he will, relying upon our vigilance, give his attention to his work." "shall we be armed, mr. atherton?" james allen asked. "yes, james, i think that it will be as well to have our guns beside us while on duty. of course there is no occasion to have them on our shoulders like sentries, but it will be well to have them always within reach of the hand in case of sudden danger. the report of a musket would give the alarm far quicker and more effectually than a shout would do, especially if men are at work on deck and making a noise. well, as you agree, we will begin after breakfast." "how about meals, sir?" tom allen asked. "if they mean to make an attack i should think they would be likely to choose meal-time, when the passengers are all below and the deck will be comparatively deserted." "we must keep watch then also," mr. atherton said decidedly. "i will speak to mr. ryan and ask him to tell the steward that two of us will require something put on the table for them after the others have done. i do not think that he himself is likely to leave the deck when the captain is below, and the two of us who happen to be on duty can have our meals when he does. of course whenever those on duty come down for this purpose the others will take their places until they return. we will change about each day. this is supposed to be your watch, allen, from four to eight. wilfrid and i will begin the work at that hour. you will relieve us at twelve, and we shall take the watch from four to eight. to-morrow we will take the early watch, and so on." "i will tell the grimstones," wilfrid, who had always gone for a daily chat with the men forward, said; "they will be glad to join us in the watch, and i should think the other men forward would do so too. i know they all find it very hard work to get through the day." the grimstones at once agreed to keep watch, as did the other three men who occupied the fore cabin with them. mr. atherton got muskets and ammunition for them from mr. ryan, and the two grimstones were appointed to his watch, the other men to that of the allens. at seven bells most of the passengers came on deck to enjoy the fresh morning air for an hour before breakfast. "you are not going to enjoy the pleasure of wilfrid's or my company at breakfast, mrs. renshaw," mr. atherton said, smiling, to that lady as she stood with the three girls round her on the poop. "why not, mr. atherton?" she asked in surprise. "he and the allens and myself are going to do amateur sentry work as long as we lie here, mrs renshaw. the crew will be all busy refitting the ship, and so i have volunteered to undertake, with their assistance, the duty of keeping a sharp eye on those tricky gentlemen ashore." "are you in earnest, mr. atherton?" "quite in earnest that we are going to do so, mrs. renshaw. there may be no absolute occasion for it, but there is nothing like keeping on the safe side; and as we cannot go ashore, and one cannot talk continuously for fifteen or sixteen hours, we may just as well pass a portion of our time in playing at sentinels." "but when will you get breakfast?" marion asked. "shall i bring it up to you, mr. atherton?" "no, thank you, miss renshaw. we have arranged to have it with mr. ryan afterwards. i am much obliged to you for your offer just the same. it is a very kind one, especially since you will, for once, particularly enjoy your breakfast, as you will have room for your elbows." "you are laughing at me again, mr. atherton. one would really think that you take me to be about ten years old." "i think a little teasing does you good, miss renshaw. it is one of the privileges of us old fellows to try to do good to our young friends; and girls of your age lord it so over their brothers and their brothers' friends, that it is good for them to be teased a little by their elders." "would not you think, mother," marion appealed, "that mr. atherton by his talk was somewhere about eighty and that i was quite a child?" "i agree with him that it is rather a good thing for girls of your age, marion, to be snubbed a little occasionally; especially on a voyage like this, when there are several young fellows on board who have nothing better to do than to wait upon you and humour your whims." there was a general laugh. before a fresh subject was started the breakfast bell rang and the passengers went below. mr. atherton fetched his rifle from his cabin, and wilfrid was going to unpack his double-barrelled gun when his friend said: "i should not bother about that now, wilfrid; take one of the ship's muskets. it will make just as much noise if you have to fire it, and you will not be alarming the passengers by bringing your gun backwards and forwards from your cabin. i am going to hang up my rifle when i come off guard in ryan's cabin on deck, where it will be handy. you take the fo'castle, your two men can be in the waist, one on each side, and i will take the poop. just at present our duty will be a nominal one, as the canoes have not put out, but i expect they will be here before long." before breakfast was over, indeed, a large canoe was brought down from the woods and placed in the water, and a number of natives appeared on the shore. the first officer at once summoned the captain on deck. "tell all the men to have their arms handy, mr. ryan," the captain said as he looked at the gathering on shore. "i do not suppose they mean to attack us in this open way, still we may as well be upon our guard. order the men not to show their arms, but to go about their work as usual. we do not wish to appear afraid of them, or to take up a position of hostility. i hope the chiefs are coming off for a friendly palaver." in a few minutes the canoes put off from the shore. first came the great canoe, which was paddled by thirty men. in the bow and stern were hideous images. four natives, evidently of superior rank, were seated near the stern, and in the bow stood a man beating his hands in time to the stroke of the paddles and singing a song, which was responded to by a deep exclamation from the rowers at every stroke. another man stood by the side of the singer waving a green bough. behind this great canoe followed a score of smaller ones. "we will receive them in state, mr. ryan. evidently they intend to keep up an appearance of friendliness at present. we will meet them in the same spirit. fasten the signal flags on to the halyards and run them up to the masthead, let half a dozen men with cutlasses take their place at the gangway as a sort of guard of honour, let the rest go on with their work but keep their arms handy for action." when the great canoe approached the vessel the men stopped paddling, and one of the chiefs standing up made an address to the captain, who was standing at the top of the gangway. not a word that he said was understood, but the address seemed to be of a friendly nature, and the chief held up some cocoa-nuts and yams as if to show his desire to trade. when he had finished the captain took off his hat and also spoke, and by gestures invited the chiefs to come on board. by this time all the passengers had come on deck, and were watching the proceedings with great interest. "do you think it safe to let them on board?" the first officer asked mr. atherton, who was intently watching the natives in the smaller canoes. "quite safe," he replied. "so long as only a few of their followers come with them there is no fear of their attempting anything. while the chiefs are in our hands they act, as it were, as hostages for the good conduct of their people. so far their intentions are clearly peaceful. whether that will last will depend upon whether they think there is a chance of success or not. at present all we have to do is to take advantage of it, and to get what we want on board." by this time the canoe was approaching the side of the ship. the four chiefs ascended the ladder, followed by four or five of lower rank who had been seated near them. as they reached the deck the principal chief turned round and shouted an order in a loud voice. its effect was immediate. the canoe in which they had arrived at once paddled away to a short distance, while the smaller craft, which had before been drifting slowly towards the vessel, also retired and lay huddled behind the large canoe. chapter vii. a savage surprise. the captain led the way on to the poop, the chiefs and the natives with them following, while the first officer with the six sailors with sabres kept in their rear. once on the quarter-deck mr. ryan ranged three of the men by the bulwark on either side, telling them to sheath their cutlasses, but to be prepared for instant action in case of treachery. the chiefs preserved a stolid demeanour, scarce glancing at the passengers, who were gathered on the poop. at the captain's orders the steward brought up a number of cushions and placed them on the deck in a circle. the captain seated himself on one and motioned to the chiefs to follow his example, which they did without hesitation. mr. ryan now brought up a number of things as presents for the chiefs, and each was presented with a hand mirror, a roll of scarlet cloth, and some trinkets, as a small supply of these had been brought on board for trade with the natives in case of the necessity arising. the head chief was in addition presented with an axe, and rolls of coloured cotton strings of glass beads and some brass rings were given to the inferior chiefs. the natives appeared pleased with their presents. the captain then addressed them, and endeavoured to explain that he wanted a supply of water. an empty barrel was brought up and some water poured into this, and the captain then pointed to the shore, and by gestures intimated that he wished the barrels to be taken ashore and filled. the chiefs evidently understood the explanation, and nodded their assent. the captain then led them to the stump of the mainmast, pointed to the shore, and taking an axe imitated the action of chopping, and showed that he wanted them to fell a tree and bring it off to the vessel. the chief pointed to the boats hanging on the davits, placed the axe in the hands of one of the men, and clearly signified that the crew could go ashore and cut down a tree if they chose. the captain shook his head and placed the axe in the hands of one of the chiefs. their leader, however, went up to the foremast, and by spreading out his arms signified that it was a great size, and then held out the small axe the captain had presented to him with an action of disdain. "the beggar means that with one axe they would never cut down a tree of that size," the first officer said. "that is all humbug, ryan; they can bring down the biggest trees for the construction of their canoes. i believe they bring them down by fire. however, it is as well to humour them. tell the carpenter to bring half a dozen axes." this was done, and the axes laid down on the deck. there was now a consultation between the natives. after a while they nodded, and then made signs that someone must go ashore with them to choose the tree. "what do you say, ryan?" the captain asked. "it is of importance that we should get a stick that will suit us. the question is whether it will be safe to trust a man on shore with these scoundrels?" "i will go ashore if you like, captain," mr. ryan replied. "i do not like it, ryan," the captain said. "you see, they would make mincemeat of an armed crew in no time." "i should not propose to take a crew, sir; they could afford no protection against a number of natives. i do not think the beggars would assault a single man. you see, there would be nothing to gain by it; and if they did it would put the ship on its guard, and their game at present is evidently to be friendly. i do not think there is any danger in the affair. if i did not go they might send off some stick that would be of no use at all to us, and as we came in on purpose to get a mast it is worth while risking something." "well, ryan," the captain said after a moment's deliberation, "i think perhaps you are right, and that one man would be safe with them. it is certainly of great importance for us to get the sort of stick we want, so as you are ready to volunteer i do not think myself justified in refusing your offer." the captain then put his hand on the chief officer's shoulder and intimated to the natives that he would accompany them on shore. the party then returned to the poop, and the steward brought up some tumblers and two or three bottles of rum. the chiefs' eyes glistened as the liquor was poured out, and each swallowed a half tumbler of the spirit with an air of the deepest satisfaction. "that is the present they like best," the captain said; "and i suppose i had better give them some for consumption on shore. at any rate it will keep them in a good temper until ryan is back again." accordingly two bottles of rum were presented to the leading chief, a bottle to the three next in rank, and two or three bottles among the others. the great canoe was hailed, the natives again took their places in it, accompanied by the first officer, and the boat then started for the shore. some of the smaller craft now came alongside, and the process of barter was again commenced. yams, bread-fruit, and other products of the island were obtained for the use of the ship in exchange for beads, empty bottles, and small mirrors, while the passengers succeeded in obtaining many curiously carved weapons, calabashes, woven cloths, and other mementoes of their visit. only two or three of the canoes were allowed alongside at a time, and a vigilant look-out was maintained to see that the others did not approach the ship. the captain walked restlessly up and down the poop, constantly turning his glass upon the shore. an hour after the great canoe had reached it he exclaimed in a tone of intense satisfaction, "there is ryan coming down to the beach. thank heaven he is safe!" the first-mate was seen to take his place in a small canoe, which at once rowed off to the ship. the captain shook him heartily by the hand as he stepped on deck. "thank heaven you have got back safely, ryan! it has been a hazardous business, and i shall take care to let the owners know how you have risked your life by going ashore in their service. well, how have you succeeded?" "i found a grand pine growing within thirty or forty yards of the water, about a quarter of a mile beyond that point to the left. as i expected, the natives had no idea of using the axes for such a purpose. when i left them a party were piling wood round the foot of the tree, and i have no doubt they will soon get it down in their own way. i suppose they will waste ten or twelve feet at the base, but that is of no consequence, for the tree is long enough and to spare to make us a fair-sized mainmast." "that is right; and as it is so close to the water we can send a boat to see how they are getting on. how about water?" "they showed me a spring about fifty yards from the beach, nearly facing us. there is plenty of water there, and it is perfectly fresh and sweet, for i tasted it. if they make any bother about bringing it off, a couple of boats with well-armed parties could fetch it without difficulty as the distance is so short." "that is capital, ryan. i hope our difficulties are pretty well over, and that we shall get off without any trouble with these fellows." "i hope so, sir. they certainly seemed friendly enough with me on shore." in the evening mr. ryan, with a crew of six men, went in the captain's gig to see how the natives were getting on with the tree. the men had their muskets and cutlasses laid under the thwarts in readiness for action. the natives, however, appeared perfectly friendly. the crews of several of the canoes near which they passed shouted some sort of greeting, but paid no other attention to them. on rounding the point the first officer steered straight for the tree he had chosen. a light smoke was ascending from its foot, and half a dozen natives were gathered there. when close to the spot he ordered the men to turn the boat round and back her ashore. "i am going to land, lads," he said, "and see how they are getting on. i do not think that there is the least danger, but you had best keep in readiness to row off the instant i jump on board." mr. ryan then proceeded to the tree. he found that a circle of small fires had been built against it. these were fed with dry wood, and were slowly but steadily eating their way into the tree, and he saw that only two or three feet of the base would be injured by their action. he nodded approvingly to the natives, but muttered to himself: "it's a mighty slow way of bringing down a tree. it is not much above three feet and a half in diameter, even at the base, and a couple of men with axes would bring it down in an hour, while there is no saying how long they will be with these fires of theirs. however, i should say that they will get through it to-night or some time to-morrow. it is a fine stick, and runs up as straight as an arrow, and is thick enough for fifty feet for our purpose." he walked quietly back to the boat, took his seat, and was rowed back to the ship, where he reported that the natives were carrying out their promise, and that by the next day the tree would be down. on visiting the spot again on the following morning it was found that the tree had fallen. "the fellows know their business," mr. ryan said to the man who rowed the stroke-oar. "you see that they managed so that it should fall towards the water. now, lads, you can take to the axes we have brought with us and chop it through at the point where we want it cut; it will save the trouble of getting off the upper branches, and render it much more handy for getting afloat." leaving two of the men in the boat, mr. ryan and the other four leapt ashore, and were not long in cutting through the tree. another half-hour sufficed to lop off all the branches below this point, and the trunk was then ready for launching. the natives stood round watching the work with exclamations of surprise at the speed with which the keen axes did their work. mr. ryan had brought with him from the ship a number of presents, and these he distributed among the party who had been engaged in felling the tree. "i do not know," he said to the captain when he returned, "whether they mean to get the stick in the water and bring it here, or whether they expect we shall do that part of the business ourselves." "i think we will wait until to-morrow morning, mr. ryan. if we hear nothing of them by then you had better take two boats--one with men to do the work, the other to lie just off and protect them while they do it." there was, however, no occasion for this, for early the next morning seven or eight canoes were seen coming round the point with much beating of tom-toms and sounding of conch horns. "here comes the spar!" the captain exclaimed; "the worst of our difficulties is over, thank goodness!" "i would keep an eye open, ryan, if i were you," mr. atherton said as the mate passed him to give orders for preparing to get the spar on deck. "there are a good many other canoes coming off from the shore, and they might take the opportunity for making a sudden attack." "right you are," the mate said. "let the starboard watch," he shouted, "keep their arms handy! four men with muskets take their place at the top of the gangway, but do not show the arms unless you get orders to do so!" the trunk was towed alongside the ship. mr. atherton and the party who had placed themselves under his orders kept a vigilant watch on the canoes to see if the occupants were armed. there was a deal of talking and gesticulating going on among them, but no arms could be seen, and mr. atherton soon concluded that if treachery was intended the present was not the time at which it would be shown. the crew were all on deck, and the natives must have known their arms were close at hand, for each day a few of those who came to trade had been permitted to come on deck, partly to show confidence on the part of those on board, partly that the visitors might see the arms lying in readiness for use, and be able to report on shore that the ship was not to be taken by surprise. no sooner was the spar alongside than a couple of sailors lowered themselves down and passed ropes round it. these ropes were then passed through blocks and taken to the capstan. the bars were fitted and seized by a dozen men. the boatswain's whistle sounded, and starting their anchor song the men tramped round and round, the ropes tightened, and the heavy spar was parbuckled up on to the deck. no sooner was it got on board than the four chiefs who had before visited the ship came alongside. there was another talk, and they were presented with a considerable number of presents for themselves and followers as a reward for their service in sending off the spar. mr. atherton and wilfrid did not approach the group of passengers round the chiefs, keeping their attention vigilantly upon the boats, from which the danger, if it existed, would come. the allens, however, in accordance with mr. atherton's instructions, watched the natives closely, and noticed as they came on deck they cast quick and scrutinizing glances round them as if to see what were the chances of a surprise. mr. ryan, however, had, when he saw the great canoe approaching, placed ten men with muskets on guard, and the chiefs doubtless perceived that a surprise could not be effected. after a stay of about a quarter of an hour the chiefs departed with their presents, of which, by the care they took of it, it was evident that they considered a case of rum to be by far the most precious. no sooner was the trunk of the pine fairly on board than a gang of men provided with adzes began, under the direction of the carpenter, to prepare it. the bark was chipped off, the stumps of the branches shaved close, and they then began to chip it down to the required thickness from end to end. "it will make a fine spar," the captain said in a tone of great satisfaction, after he had examined it. "i think it will do for her permanent mast. if it will it will save us a lot of trouble when we get into wellington." "i think it will be a little light, sir," mr. ryan said, "by the time we have got it perfectly smooth and even. still, i have seen lighter spars in a ship of this size, and i certainly think we are most fortunate in getting such a stick. when do you think you will get it ready, watson?" "i should say we shall have it nearly ready for getting into its place by to-morrow night, mr. ryan," the carpenter replied, "though we may not quite finish it until next day; for, you see, when it comes to getting it smoothed, i and my mate must do it by ourselves." "i should not be particular about smoothing it," the captain said, "but of course you must make it so that it will take the spare irons we have got for the topmast. we shall have plenty of time to put the finishing touches to it when we get to wellington. i begin to think these natives are not so black as they are painted, mr. ryan." "perhaps not, sir; but maybe if they had not seen that we were so ready for them there would be a different tale to tell." "that is so," the captain agreed. "there is no doubt that the best way of dealing with natives is never to give them a chance." the carpenter's gang continued steadily at their work, while the first officer got up the sheer-legs and hoisted the stump of the mainmast from its place. the butt of the new mainmast was cut to match this, and on the second day after it arrived alongside it was hoisted into its position. the whole of the stays and rigging of the mainmast had been cut away as soon as it went overboard; but there was plenty of spare rope on board, and before evening the new mast was firmly stayed in its place, and all was in readiness for hoisting the spar that was to serve as topmast. the natives had watched the proceedings with great interest. quite a crowd of canoes gathered round the ship, and were greatly surprised at seeing the heavy spar raised by the sheers and dropped into its place; and they replied to the hearty cheers that rose from the crew and passengers when this was accomplished by wild yells and cries and the sounding of their horns. "i begin to think," the captain said to mr. atherton, "that the natives have got a worse name than they deserve. i do not mean, of course, that they have not perpetrated several atrocious massacres, but i expect these must have been the result of extreme carelessness on the part of those on ships, or perhaps of rough treatment, for some captains treat the natives of islands like these like dogs. as far as they could have told there was an excellent chance of attacking the ship to-day, though we know that we kept up a vigilant watch all the time, and yet nothing could have been more friendly than they were." "there is no doubt something in what you say, captain," mr. atherton agreed. "many of the captains of the ships who trade among these islands are certainly rough fellows, who would think nothing of knocking a native down, and others again are so culpably careless as to offer almost an inducement to the natives to grasp what is to them untold wealth. still, i think it is as well to be cautious." "of course we shall be cautious," the captain replied; "but i really do not think that you and the others need bother yourselves to be always standing on sentry." "it is no trouble," mr. atherton said, "and i think we will keep it up until we are fairly under weigh." mr. atherton was not pleased at seeing that the captain the next day relaxed somewhat in the strictness of the rules he laid down, and the crew were allowed to trade freely with the natives. "we must be more vigilant than ever," he said to wilfrid and the allens. "the captain is so pleased at having got his mast on board that he is disposed to view the natives with friendly eyes, which, if they mean treachery, is just what they want. finding that we were too much on the watch to be taken by surprise, they would naturally try to lull us with a sense of false security." in the afternoon the chief again came off and formally invited the captain to a feast on shore. he accepted the invitation, and went back with them, accompanied by three or four of the passengers who had scoffed at the idea of danger. after a stay of two or three hours they returned on board. "i think, mr. ryan," the captain said that evening, "you had better take a couple of boats in the morning and go ashore for water. we shall have everything ready for getting up our anchor after dinner. of course your crew will be well armed and take every precaution, but i do not think that there is the slightest danger." "very well, sir. you may be sure i will keep my weather-eye open." mr. atherton shook his head when in the morning he saw the boats being lowered, and heard from the first officer the orders he had received. "from what you say there is water enough to last us to wellington if we are all put on somewhat shorter allowance, and that would be infinitely better than running the risk of your going ashore." "the water might last if all goes well," the mate said, "but if we were to get becalmed for some time, which is likely enough in these latitudes, we should be in an awkward fix. i shall keep a sharp look-out on shore, never fear. the distance to the spring is, as i told you, not above fifty yards, and i will keep half the men filling and the other half on guard. if they should mean mischief we will give it them hot." "how many men will you take?" "sixteen--ten in the cutter and six in the gig." "that would only leave us ten on board," mr. atherton said. "if they attack you they will attack us too, that is a moral certainty. at any rate, i will hint to some of the passengers that they had better keep their arms in readiness while you are away." mr. atherton refused to go down to breakfast when the allens came up to relieve him after finishing their meal. "we will have both watches on deck this morning," he said. "we shall be very short-handed while ryan and his party are away. unfortunately the captain is convinced there is not the slightest danger. he snubbed me this morning quite smartly when i said casually that i supposed that he would not let any of the natives on board while ryan was away." as the rest of the passengers came up from breakfast, mr. atherton spoke to some of those with whom he had been most intimate on the voyage, and told them that he thought it would be just as well for them to bring their arms on deck and keep them close at hand until the watering party returned. "it is no great trouble," he said, "and it is just as well to be ready in case the natives mean mischief. i know that some of the youngsters consider me to be an alarmist, and i will give them free leave to laugh at me when we are once safely out at sea, but the stake is too heavy to admit of carelessness; there are not only our own lives but those of the ladies to be thought of." three or four of the passengers followed this advice and brought their muskets or double-barrelled guns on deck. they were a good deal laughed at by the rest, who asked them if they had joined atherton's army, as the little party who had kept watch were called. however, when the boats pushed off with the empty casks, and the passengers saw how large was the complement of the crew who had left them, three of the others strolled down to the cabin and got their guns. in half an hour the great canoe with the chiefs came off, and as it approached the ship mr. atherton told wilfrid to go forward, and tell the five men there to come aft and be in readiness to mount to the poop the moment they saw any sign of trouble. "if there is a row," he said, "we have to hold the poop. there are only the two ladders to defend, and we can do that; but it would be useless to try to hold the whole of the ship." as the captain left the poop and went down into the waist to receive the chiefs, mr. atherton went up to where mrs. renshaw was sitting. "will you take my advice, mrs. renshaw?" "certainly i will," she said, smiling; "for i am sure it will be good, whatever it is." "then, mrs. renshaw, i advise you at once to go below with your daughter and the miss mitfords. i do not say that we are going to have trouble, but if we are this is the time. pray oblige me by doing as i ask." mrs. renshaw at once rose, called marion and the other two girls, who were gaily chatting with a group of the passengers, and asked them to go below with her. wilfrid and the two allens were now on the poop, as mr. atherton had told them that they had better remain there instead of placing themselves at other points. the grimstones and the three other passengers forward were gathered near the ladders. as usual the chiefs accompanied the captain on to the poop, followed by half a dozen of the minor chiefs; and mr. atherton noticed that several of the others, instead of sitting quietly in the canoe, slipped up after them on to the deck. the flotilla of small canoes, which had as usual put out in the train of the large one, was edging in towards the vessel. mr. atherton leant over the poop rail and spoke to the second officer, who was engaged in the waist with the men. "mr. rawlins, i do not quite like the look of things. i think that it would be as well if you were to gather as many of the hands as you can at the foot of the ladder here, without, of course, alarming the natives, as it may be only my fancy." the second-mate nodded, and at once told the men with him to knock off from their work. "get hold of your cutlasses quietly," he said, "and gather near the foot of the starboard port ladder." then going to the gangway he stopped a native who was just climbing up from the canoe, and motioned to them that no more were to come on board. the talk with the chiefs was a short one. the stewards brought up two cases of rum, and when these were handed over to them the natives rose as if to go. suddenly the leader drew his axe from his girdle, and with a loud yell buried it deep in the captain's head. the yell was echoed from some hundred throats, the crew of the canoe leapt to their feet and began to clamber up the side of the vessel, while those in the smaller craft dashed their paddles into the water and urged their boats towards it. at the same moment the natives on board all drew concealed weapons. so quick had been the action of the chief that mr. atherton had not time to prevent it, but before the body of the captain touched the deck that of the chief was stretched beside it with a bullet through the brain. wilfrid and the allens seeing the natives rise to go had thought the danger over, and two passengers had been struck down before they brought their rifles to their shoulders. they were within a few feet of the chiefs, and each of their shots told. for a minute or two there was a scene of wild confusion. the natives in the waist fell furiously upon the sailors, but these, fortunately put upon their guard, received the attack with determination. the sound of the lads' rifles was followed almost instantly by the sharp cracks of a revolver mr. atherton produced from his pocket, and each shot told with fatal effect. when the revolver was empty not a native remained alive on the poop. the other passengers had been taken so completely by surprise that even those who had brought up their arms did not join in the fray until the poop was cleared. "keep them back there!" mr. atherton shouted as the natives came swarming up the ladder on the port side. several shots were fired, but the passengers were too startled for their aim to be true. "give me your musket, renshaw!" mr. atherton exclaimed, snatching the piece the latter had just discharged from his hands, "my rifle is too good for this work." he then clubbed the weapon, and whirling it round his head as if it had been a straw fell upon the natives, who were just pouring up on to the poop, shouting to the passengers, "fire on the mass below! i will keep these fellows at bay!" every blow that fell stretched a man lifeless on deck, until those who had gained the poop, unable to retreat owing to the pressure of those behind them, and terrified by the destruction wrought by this giant, sprang over the bulwark into the sea. just as they did so the little party of sailors and steerage passengers, finding themselves unable to resist the pressure, made their way up to the poop by the starboard ladder, hotly pressed by the natives. by this time several of the male passengers who had rushed below for their weapons ran up, and wilfred and the allens having reloaded, such a discharge was poured into the natives on the port ladder that the survivors leapt down on to the deck below, and the attack for a moment ceased. the whole of the forward portion of the ship was by this time in the hands of the natives. three sailors who were at work there had been at once murdered, only one of the party having time to make his escape up the fore rigging. spears now began to fly fast over the poop. "we must fall back a bit, mr. rawlins, or we shall be riddled," mr. atherton said. "your men had better run down and get muskets; we will keep these fellows at bay. i do not think they will make a rush again just at present. will you see that the door leading out on to the waist is securely barricaded, and place two or three men there? mr. renshaw, will you and some of the other passengers carry down those ladies who have fainted, and assure them all that the danger is really over." mr. atherton had so naturally taken the command that the second mate at once obeyed his instructions. most of the ladies had rushed below directly the fray began, but two or three had fainted, and these were soon carried below. the male passengers, eighteen in all, were now on deck. several of them looked very pale and scared, but even the most timid felt that his life depended on his making a fight for it. a perfect shower of spears were now flying over the poop from the natives in the canoes alongside, and from the ship forward. "we had best lie down, gentlemen," mr. atherton said. "if the natives make a rush up the ladders we must be careful not to fire all at once or we should be at their mercy. let those by the bulwarks fire first, and the others take it up gradually while the first reload. of course if they make a really determined rush there will be nothing to do but to meet them and drive them back again." unfortunately the four cannon of the _flying scud_ were all amidships, and were therefore not available for the defence. "if we could make a breastwork, mr. atherton, so that we could stand up behind it and fire down into the waist we might drive these fellows out," the second officer suggested. "a very good idea. wilfrid, will you run down and ask the ladies to get up to the top of the companion all the mattrasses, trunks, and other things that would do to form a barricade? it will be a good thing for them to have something to do. mr. rawlins, will you send down the stewards to help? they might get some cases and barrels up. as fast as they bring them up we will push them along the deck and form a breastwork." chapter viii. the end of the voyage. when wilfred went below to get materials for a barricade, he found the ladies kneeling or sitting calm and quiet, although very pale and white, round the table, while mrs. renshaw was praying aloud. she concluded her prayer just as he came down. there was a general chorus of questions. "everything is going on well," wilfrid said cheerfully; "but we want to make a breastwork, for the spears are flying about so, one cannot stand up to fire at them. i have come to ask you all to carry up mattrasses and pillows and cushions and portmanteaus, and anything else that will make a barricade. the steward will open the lazaret and send up barrels and things. please set to work at once." not a moment was lost; the ladies carried the things rapidly up the companion, two of the passengers passed them outside, and others lying in a line pushed them forward from one to another until they arrived at those lying, rifle in hand, twenty feet aft of the poop rails. there was soon a line of mattrasses four deep laid across the deck. "that will do to begin with," mr. atherton said. "now, let us push these before us to the end of the poop, and we can then commence operations. the sailors, wilfrid renshaw, the allens, and myself will first open fire. will the rest of you please continue to pass things along to add to the height of our barricade? i wish we knew how they are getting on on shore." for almost immediately after the struggle had begun on board the sound of musketry had broken out from that quarter, and they knew that the watering party had been attacked directly the natives knew that their chiefs had commenced the massacre on board ship. several times, in spite of the danger from the flying spears, mr. atherton had gone to the stern and looked towards the shore. the boats lay there seemingly deserted, and the fight was going on in the wood. a number of canoes had placed themselves so as to cut off the return of the boats should the sailors succeed in making their way to them. as soon as the line of mattrasses was pushed forward to the edge of the poop a steady fire was opened upon the natives, who had already taken off the hatches, and were engaged in bringing their plunder up on deck, deferring the dangerous operation of carrying the poop for the present. as soon, however, as the fire opened upon them they seized their spears and tomahawks, and, led by one of their chiefs, made a rush at the two poop ladders. mr. atherton gave a shout, and the whole of the passengers seizing their muskets sprang to their feet and ran forward to the barricade, and so heavy a fire was poured into the natives as they tried to ascend the ladders, that they fell back again and contented themselves with replying to the fire with volleys of spears. the passengers at once renewed their work of passing the materials for the barricade forward, and this was continued until it rose breast high. they then took their places closely together behind it, and joined its defenders in keeping up a heavy fire upon the natives. so deadly was its effect that the latter began to lose heart and to jump over into the canoes alongside. a cheer broke from the passengers as they saw the movement of retreat. it was no longer necessary for any to reserve their fire, and this was redoubled. the natives were discouraged by the want of leaders; their principal chiefs had all been killed on the poop, and any other who attempted to rally them and lead them again to an attack was instantly shot down by mr. atherton, who, as wilfrid, who was standing next to him observed, never once failed to bring down the man he aimed at. "i think we might go at them, sir, now," the second officer said to mr. atherton; "the fight is all out of them." "i think so too, rawlins. now, gentlemen, give them one last volley and then pull down the barricade across the ends of the ladders and charge them." the volley was given, and then with a ringing cheer the barricade was thrust aside, and, led on one side by mr. atherton and on the other by the second officer, the defenders of the poop sprang down the ladders and rushed forward. the natives did not stop to await them, but sprung overboard with the greatest precipitation, and the _flying scud_ was once again in the hands of its lawful owners. "now, rawlins, do you and the sailors work the guns, we will pepper them with our rifles," mr. atherton said. "mr. renshaw, will you go aft and tell the ladies that all is over?" but this they had already learned. marion, after the things had been passed up, had taken her place at the top of the companion, occasionally peering out to see what was going on, and running down with the news to them below, and as the loud cheer which preceded the charge had broken from those on deck, she had called out to the ladies below that the natives were beaten. the shower of spears from the boats had ceased as soon as the natives saw their friends leaping overboard, and as mr. renshaw ascended the poop to deliver the message the ladies were flocking out on deck, each anxious to ascertain whether those most dear to them had suffered in the fray. marion run forward and threw herself into his arms. "not hurt, father?" "no, my dear, thank god. some of us have got spear wounds more or less awkward, but nobody has been killed except those who were struck down at the beginning." as he spoke the four cannon boomed out one after another, for they had been loaded some days before, and a hail of bullets and pieces of iron with which they had been crammed tore through the canoes, while terrible yells rose from the natives. three of the canoes were instantly sunk, and half the paddlers in the large boat of the chief were killed or disabled. almost the same instant a dropping fire of musketry was opened, the passengers firing as soon as they had reloaded their pieces. "give another dose to that big fellow!" the second officer shouted to the men at the two guns at that side of the ship. "shove a ball in, men, and a bagful of bullets--take steady aim, and remember the poor captain!" a minute later the guns were fired. a terrible cry was heard, and almost instantaneously the great canoe disappeared below the water. "get the other two guns over to this side," mr. rawlins said; "we must lend a hand now to the party ashore. load all the guns with grape, and aim at those canoes between us and them." these, following the example of those around the ship, were already moving towards the shore, and the discharge of the four guns sunk two of them and sent the others off in headlong flight. "what had we better do now, mr. atherton?" "i should load with round shot now, rawlins, and open fire into the wood on both sides of the landing-place. the sound of the shot crashing among the trees will demoralize the scoundrels even if you do not hit anyone." three or four rounds were fired, and then those on board gave a cheer as they saw the sailors issue out from among the trees and take their places in the boats. half a minute later they were rowing towards the vessel, unmolested by the natives. mr. ryan stood up in the stern of his boat as soon as they were within hailing distance and shouted--"how has it gone with you?" "we have beaten them off, as you see," the second officer shouted back; "but the ship was pretty nearly in their hands for a time. the captain is killed, i am sorry to say; four of our men, and two of the passengers. how have you done?" "we have lost three men," mr. ryan replied, "and most of us are wounded." the boats were soon alongside, and mr. ryan, after hearing what had taken place on board, related his experience. "we had got about half the casks filled when we heard a rifle shot on board a ship, followed directly by the yells of the black divils. i ordered the men to drop the casks and take to their guns, but i had scarcely spoken when a volley of spears fell among us. two men were killed at once. i had intended to take to the boats and come off to lend you a hand, but by the yelling and the shower of spears i saw that the spalpeens were so thick round us that if we had tried we should pretty well all be killed before we could get fairly out, so i told the men to take to the trees and keep up a steady fire whenever the natives tried to make a rush at us. i was, of course, terribly anxious about you all at first, and i knew that if the ship was taken they must have us all sooner or later. after the first few shots there was silence for a time, and i feared the worst." "the spears were flying so thick we could not stand up to fire," the second officer put in. "ah! that was it. well, i was afraid you had all been massacred, and you may imagine how relieved i was when i heard a dropping fire of musketry begin; i knew then that they had failed to take you by surprise. the fire at last got so heavy i was sure that most of you had escaped the first attack, and we then felt pretty hopeful, though i did not see how we were to get down to the boats and get off to you. when we heard the first cannon shot we gave a cheer that must have astonished the natives, for we knew you must have cleared the deck of the scoundrels. i had set a man at the edge of the trees by the water to let us know how you were going on, and he soon shouted that the canoes were drawing off! then we heard the big canoe was sunk, and that you had driven off the craft that were lying between us and the ship. a minute later the round shot came crashing among the trees, and almost immediately the yelling round us ceased, and we felt sure they must be drawing off. we waited until you had fired a couple more rounds, and then as all seemed quiet we fell back to the boats, and, as you saw, got off without a single spear being thrown at us. i am awfully sorry for the poor captain. if he had but taken your advice, mr. atherton, all this would not have happened; but at last he got to trust these treacherous scoundrels, and this is the result." "well, mr. ryan, you are in command now," mr. atherton said, "and we are all ready to carry out any orders that you will give us." "first of all then, mr. atherton, i must, in the name of the owners of this ship, of myself, the officers and crew, thank you for having saved it and us from the hands of these savages. from what mr. rawlins tells me, and from what i know myself, i am convinced that had it not been for your vigilance, and for the part you have taken in the defence of the ship, the natives would have succeeded in their treacherous design of massacring all on board almost without resistance." a cheer broke from the passengers and crew, and mr. renshaw said when it had subsided: "i, on the part of the passengers, endorse all that mr. ryan has said; we owe it to you, atherton, that by god's mercy we and those dear to us have escaped from death at the hands of these savages. it was you who put some of us on our guard; it was your marvellous shooting with the revolver that first cleared the poop; and your extraordinary strength, that enabled you single-handed to check the onslaught of the natives and give us time to rally from our first surprise, and saved the ship and us." "do not let us say anything more about it," mr. atherton said; "we have all done our duty to the best of our power, and have reason to be heartily thankful to god that we have got out of this scrape without heavier loss than has befallen us. now, mr. ryan, please give your orders." "the first thing, undoubtedly, is to clear the deck of these bodies," mr. ryan said. "what about the wounded?" mr. renshaw asked, "no doubt some of the poor wretches are still alive." "they do not deserve any better fate than to be tossed overboard with the others; still, as that would go against the grain, we will see what we can do." he looked over the side. "there is a good-sized canoe floating there fifty yards away. i suppose the fellows thought it would be safer to jump overboard and swim ashore. four of you men get out the gig and tow the canoe alongside. we will put any wounded we find into it and send it adrift; they will come out and pick it up after we are fairly off." the bodies of sixty natives who had been killed outright were thrown overboard, and eighteen who were found to be still alive were lowered into the canoe. "i do not think we are really doing them much kindness, though of course we are doing the best we can for them," mr. atherton said to mr. renshaw. "i doubt if one of them will live. you see, all who were able to drag themselves to the side jumped overboard, and were either drowned or hauled into the canoes." as soon as the operation was over the casks of water were got on board and the boats hoisted to the davits. the anchor was then hove up and some of the sails shaken out, and with a gentle breeze the vessel began to draw off the land. as soon as this was done all hands set to work washing down the decks; and in two or three hours, except for the bullet marks on the deck and bulwarks, there were no signs left of the desperate conflict that had raged on board the _flying scud_. at sunset all hands gathered on the poop, and the bodies of the captain and two passengers, and of the sailors who had fallen, were reverently delivered to the deep, mr. ryan reading the funeral service. the ladies had retired below after the boats had come alongside, and did not come up until all was ready for the funeral. mrs. renshaw and three or four of the others had been employed in dressing the wounds of those who had been injured. four out of the six sailors who had survived the massacre on board had been more or less severely wounded before they won their way on the quarter-deck, and six of the watering party were also wounded. eight of the passengers had been struck with the flying spears; but only two of these had received wounds likely to cause anxiety. after the funeral was over more sail was hoisted, the breeze freshened, and the _flying scud_ proceeded briskly on her way. the rest of the voyage was uneventful. thankful as all were for their escape, a gloom hung over the ship. the death of the captain was much felt by all. he had been uniformly kind and obliging to the passengers, and had done everything in his power to make the voyage a pleasant one. one of the passengers who was killed was a young man with none on board to mourn him, but the other had left a widow and two children, whose presence in their midst was a constant reminder of their narrow escape from destruction. the voyage had produced a very marked change in mr. renshaw. it had brought him in far closer connection with his children than he had ever been before, with results advantageous to each. hitherto they had scarcely ever seen him except at meals, and even at these times his thoughts were so wholly taken up with the writings on which he was engaged that he had taken but little part in the general conversation beyond giving a willing assent to any request they made, and evincing no interest whatever in their plans and amusements. now, although for four or five hours a day he worked diligently at his study of the maori language, he was at other times ready to join in what was going on. he often walked the deck by the hour with wilfrid and marion, and in that time learned far more of their past life, of their acquaintances and amusements at their old home, than he had ever known before. he was genial and chatty with all the other passengers, and the astonishment of his children was unbounded when he began to take a lively part in the various amusements by which the passengers whiled away the long hours, and played at deck quoits and bull. the latter game consists of a board divided into twelve squares, numbered one to ten, with two having bulls' heads upon them; leaden discs covered with canvas are thrown on to this board, counting according to the number on which they fall, ten being lost for each quoit lodged on a square marked by a bull's head. on the evening of the day before the shores of new zealand came in sight mr. renshaw was sitting by his wife. "the voyage is just finished, helen," he said. "it has been a pleasant time. i am sorry it is over." "a very pleasant time, alfred," she replied, "one of the most pleasant i have ever spent." "i see now," he went on, "that i have made a mistake of my life, and instead of making an amusement of my hobby for archæology have thrown away everything for it. i have been worse than selfish. i have utterly neglected you and the children. why, i seem only to have made an acquaintance with them since we came on board a ship. i see now, dear, that i have broken my marriage vows to you. i have always loved you and always honoured you, but i have altogether failed to cherish you." "you have always been good and kind, alfred," she said softly. "a man may be good and kind to a dog, helen; but that is not all that a wife has a right to expect. i see now that i have blundered miserably. i cannot change my nature altogether, dear; that is too late. i cannot develop a fund of energy by merely wishing for it; but i can make the happiness of my wife and children my first thought and object, and my own pursuits the second. i thought the loss of our money was a terrible misfortune. i do not think so now. i feel that i have got my wife again and have gained two children, and whatever comes of our venture here i shall feel that the failure of the bank has brought undeserved happiness to me." "and to me also," mrs. renshaw said softly as she pressed her husband's hand. "i feel sure that we shall all be happier than we have ever been before. not that we have been unhappy, dear, very far from it; still you have not been our life and centre, and it has been so different since the voyage began." "he is not half a bad fellow, after all," mr. atherton said, as leaning against the bulwark smoking his cigar he had glanced across at the husband and wife seated next to each other talking in low tones, and evidently seeing nothing of what was passing around them. "he has brightened up wonderfully since we started. of course he will never be a strong man, and is no more fit for a settler's life than he is for a habitation in the moon. still, he is getting more like other people. his thoughts are no longer two or three thousand years back. he has become a sociable and pleasant fellow, and i am sure he is very fond of his wife and children. it is a pity he has not more backbone. still, i think the general outlook is better than i expected. taking it altogether it has been as pleasant a voyage as i have ever made. there is the satisfaction too that one may see something of one's fellow-passengers after we land. this northern island is not, after all, such a very big place. that is the worst of homeward voyages. people who get to know and like each other when they arrive in port scatter like a bomb-shell in every direction, and the chances are against your ever running up against any of them afterwards." somewhat similar ideas occupied the mind of most of the passengers that evening. the voyage had been a pleasant one, and they were almost sorry that it was over; but there was a pleasurable excitement at the thought that they should next day see the land that was to be their home, and the knowledge that they should all be staying for a few days at wellington seemed to postpone the break-up of their party for some little time. no sooner was the anchor dropped than a number of shore boats came off to the ship. those who had friends on shore and were expecting to be met watched anxiously for a familiar face, and a cry of delight broke from the two mitfords as they saw their father and mother in one of these boats. after the first joyful greeting was over the happy little party retired to the cabin, where they could chat together undisturbed, as all the passengers were on deck. half an hour later they returned to the deck, and the girls led their father and mother up to mrs. renshaw. "i have to thank you most heartily, mrs. renshaw, for your great kindness to my girls. they tell me that you have throughout the voyage looked after them as if they had been your own daughters." "there was no looking after required, i can assure you," mrs. renshaw said. "i was very pleased, indeed, to have them in what i may call our little party, and it was a great advantage and pleasure to my own girl." "we are going ashore at once," mr. mitford said. "my girls tell me that you have no acquaintances here. my own place is hundreds of miles away, and we are staying with some friends while waiting the arrival of the ship, and therefore cannot, i am sorry to say, put you up; but in any other way in which we can be of assistance we shall be delighted to give any aid in our power. the girls say you are thinking of making this your head-quarters until you decide upon the district in which you mean to settle. in that case it will, of course, be much better for you to take a house, or part of a house, than to stop at an hotel; and if so it will be best to settle upon one at once, so as to go straight to it and avoid all the expenses of moving twice. it is probable that our friends, the jacksons, may know of some suitable place, but if not i shall be glad to act as your guide in house-hunting." mr. renshaw here came up and was introduced to mr. mitford, who repeated his offer. "we shall be extremely glad," mr. renshaw replied; "though i really think that it is most unfair to take you even for a moment from your girls after an absence of five years." "oh, never mind that," mr. mitford said; "we shall land at once, and shall have all the morning to talk with them. if you and mrs. renshaw will come ashore at four o'clock in the afternoon my wife and i will meet you at the landing-place. or if, as i suppose you would prefer to do, you like to land this morning and have a look at wellington for yourselves, this is our address, and if you will call at two o'clock, or any time later, we shall be at your service. i would suggest, though, that if you do land early, you should first come round to us, because jackson may know some place to suit you; and if not, i am sure that he will be glad to accompany you and act as your guide." "i should not like to trouble--" mr. renshaw began. "my dear sir, you do not know the country. everyone is glad to help a new chum--that is the name for fresh arrivals--to the utmost of his power if he knows anything whatever about him, and no one thinks anything of trouble." "in that case," mr. renshaw said smiling, "we will gladly avail ourselves of the offer. we should all have been contented if the voyage had lasted a month longer; but being here, we all, i suppose, want to get ashore as soon as possible. therefore we shall probably call at your address in the course of an hour or so after you get there." wilfrid and marion were indeed in such a hurry to get ashore that a very few minutes after the mitfords left the side of the ship, the renshaws took a boat and started for the shore. most of the other passengers also landed. "we shall go in alongside the quays in an hour's time," the captain said as they left; "so you must look for us there when you have done sight-seeing. we shall begin to get the baggage up at once for the benefit of those who are in a hurry to get away to the hotels; but i shall be glad for you all to make the ship your home until to-morrow." for an hour after landing the renshaws wandered about wellington, which they found to be a pretty and well-built town with wide streets. "why, it is quite a large place!" wilfrid exclaimed in surprise. "different, of course, from towns at home, with more open spaces. i expected it would be much rougher than it is." "it is the second town of the island, you see," mr. renshaw said; "and is an important place. well, i am glad we did not cumber ourselves by bringing everything out from england, for there will be no difficulty in providing ourselves with everything we require here." after wandering about for an hour they proceeded to the address mr. mitford had given them. it was a house of considerable size, standing in a pretty garden, a quarter of a mile from the business part of the town. they were warmly received by the mitfords, and introduced to mr. and mrs. jackson. "mr. mitford has been telling me that you want to get a house, or part of a house, for a few weeks till you look about you and decide where you will settle down," mr. jackson said. "i am a land and estate agent, besides doing a little in other ways. we most of us turn our hands to anything that presents itself here. i have taken a holiday for this morning and left my clerk in charge, so i am quite at your service. you will find it difficult and expensive if you take a whole house, so i should advise you strongly to take lodgings. if you were a large party it would be different, but you only want a sitting-room and three bed-rooms." "we could do with a sitting-room, a good-sized bed-room for my wife and myself, and a small one for my daughter," mr. renshaw said; "and take a bed-room out for a few nights for wilfrid, as he will be starting with a friend to journey through the colony and look out for a piece of land to suit us." "then there will be no difficulty at all. you will find lodgings rather more expensive than in england. i do not mean more expensive than a fashionable watering-place, but certainly more expensive than in a town of the same kind at home. house rent is high here; but then, on the other hand, your living will cost you less than at home." after an hour's search lodgings were found in a house at no great distance from that of mr. jackson. it was a small house, kept by the widow of the owner and captain of a small trading ship that had been lost a year previously. the ship had fortunately been insured, and the widow was able to keep on the house in which she lived, adding to her income by letting a portion of it to new arrivals who, like the renshaws, intended to make a stay of some little time in wellington before taking any steps to establish themselves as settlers. "i think," mr. jackson said when this was settled, "you are doing wisely by letting your son here take a run through the colony. there is no greater mistake than for new-comers to be in a hurry. settle in haste and repent at leisure is the rule. mr. mitford was saying that he hoped that you might settle down somewhere in his locality; but at any rate it will be best to look round first. there is plenty of land at present to be obtained anywhere, and there are many things to be considered in choosing a location. carriage is of course a vital consideration, and a settler on a river has a great advantage over one who has to send his produce a long distance to market by waggon. then, again, some people prefer taking up virgin land and clearing it for themselves, while others are ready to pay a higher sum to take possession of a holding where much of the hard work has already been done, and a house stands ready for occupation. "at present no one, of course, with a wife and daughter would think of settling in the disturbed district, although farms can be bought there for next to nothing. the war is, i hope, nearly at an end, now that we have ten british regiments in the island. they have taken most of the enemy's pahs, though they have been a prodigious time about it, and we colonists are very discontented with the dilatory way in which the war has been carried on, and think that if things had been left to ourselves we could have stamped the rebellion out in half the time. the red-coats were much too slow; too heavily weighted and too cautious for this sort of work. the maoris defend their pahs well, inflict a heavy loss upon their assailants, and when the latter at last make their attack and carry the works the maoris manage to slip away, and the next heard of them is they have erected a fresh pah, and the whole thing has to be gone through again. however, we need not discuss that now. i take it that anyhow you would not think of settling down anywhere in the locality of the tribes that have been in revolt." "certainly not," mr. renshaw said. "i am a peaceful man, and if i could get a house and land for nothing and an income thrown into the bargain, i should refuse it if i could not go to bed without the fear that the place might be in flames before the morning." "i am bound to say that the natives have as a whole behaved very well to the settlers; it would have been easy in a great number of cases for them to have cut them off had they chosen to do so. but they have fought fairly and well according to the rules of what we may call honourable warfare. the tribesmen are for the most part christians, and have carried out christian precepts. "in one case, hearing that the troops assembling to attack one of their pahs were short of provisions, they sent down boat-loads of potatoes and other vegetables to them, saying that the bible said, 'if thine enemy hunger feed him.' still, in spite of instances of this kind, i should certainly say do not go near the disturbed districts, for one cannot assert that if hostilities continue they will always be carried on in that spirit. however, things are at present perfectly peaceable throughout the provinces of wellington and hawke bay, and it may be hoped it may continue so. i have maps and plans of all the various districts, and before your son starts will give him all the information i possess as to the advantages and disadvantages of each locality, the nature of the soil, the price at which land can be purchased, and the reputation of the natives in the neighbourhood." the next day the renshaws landed after breakfast and took up their abode in the new lodgings. these were plainly but comfortably furnished, and after one of the trunks containing nick-nacks of all descriptions had been opened, and some of the contents distributed, the room assumed a comfortable home-like appearance. a lodging had been obtained close by for the two grimstones. the young fellows were heartily glad to be on shore again, for life among the steerage passengers during a long voyage is dull and monotonous. mr. renshaw had looked after them during the voyage, and had supplied them from his own stores with many little comforts in the way of food, and with books to assist them to pass their time; still they were very glad the voyage was over. when he now told them it was probable that a month or even more might pass after their arrival in the colony before he could settle on a piece of land, and that during that time they would remain at wellington, they at once asked him to get them work of some kind if he could. "we should be learning something about the place, sir; and should probably get our food for our work, and should be costing you nothing, and we would much rather do that than loiter about town doing nothing." mr. renshaw approved of their plan, and mentioned it to mr. jackson, who, on the very day after their landing, spoke to a settler who had come in from a farm some twenty miles in the interior. "they are active and willing young fellows and don't want pay, only to be put up and fed until the man who has brought them out here with him gets hold of a farm." "i shall be extremely glad to have them," the settler said. "this is a very busy time with us, and a couple of extra hands will be very useful. they will learn a good deal as to our ways here in the course of a month, and, as you say, it would be far better for them to be at work than to be loafing about the place doing nothing." accordingly, the next morning the two grimstones went up country and set to work. chapter ix. the new zealand war. for a few days the greater part of the passengers who had arrived by the _flying scud_ remained in wellington. mr. atherton and the two allens had put up at the same hotel. the latter intended to go out as shepherds or in any other capacity on a farm, for a few months at any rate, before investing in land. they had two or three letters of introduction to residents in wellington, and ten days after the arrival of the ship they called at the renshaws' to say good-bye, as they had arranged to go for some months with a settler up the country. they promised to write regularly to wilfrid and tell him all about the part to which they were going. "mr. atherton has promised to write to us," they said, "and tell us about the districts he visits with you, and if you and he discover anything particularly inviting we shall at any rate come and see you, if you will give us an invitation when you are settled, and look round there before buying land anywhere else. it would be very pleasant to be somewhere near you and him." "we shall be very glad, indeed, to see you," mrs. renshaw said; "still more glad if you take up a piece of ground near us. having friends near is a very great point in such a life as this, and it would be most agreeable having a sort of little colony of our own." "we should have liked very much," james allen said, "to say good-bye to the miss mitfords, but as we do not know their father and mother it might seem strange for us to call there." "i do not think they are at all people to stand on ceremony," mrs. renshaw said; "but i will put on my bonnet and go round with you at once if you like." this was accordingly done. mr. mitford had heard of the young men as forming part of the little group of passengers on board the _flying scud_, and gave them a hearty invitation to pay him a visit if they happened to be in his neighbourhood, and the next day they started for the farm on which they had engaged themselves. two days later there was a general break up of the party, for mr. and mrs. mitford started with their daughters in a steamer bound to hawke bay. "will you tell me, mr. jackson, what all the trouble in the north has been about," wilfrid asked that evening, "for i have not been able to find out from the papers?" "it is a complicated question, wilfrid. when new zealand was first colonized the natives were very friendly. the early settlers confidently pushed forward into the heart of native districts, bought tracts of land from the chiefs, and settled there. government purchased large blocks of land, cut off by intervening native territory from the main settlements, and sold this land to settlers without a suspicion that they were thereby dooming them to ruin. the settlers were mostly small farmers, living in rough wooden houses scattered about the country, and surrounded by a few fields; the adjoining land is usually fern or forest held by the natives. they fenced their fields, and turned their cattle, horses, and sheep at large in the open country outside these fences, paying rent to the natives for the privilege of doing so. "this led to innumerable quarrels. the native plantations of wheat, potatoes, or maize are seldom fenced in, and the cattle of the settlers sometimes committed much devastation among them; for the maori fields were often situated at long distances from their villages, and the cattle might, therefore, be days in their patches before they were found out. on the other hand, the gaunt long-legged maori pigs, which wander over the country picking up their own living, were constantly getting through the settlers' fences, rooting up their potatoes, and doing all sorts of damage. "in these cases the settlers always had the worst of the quarrel. they either had no weapons, or, being isolated in the midst of the natives, dared not use them; while the maoris, well armed and numerous, would come down waving their tomahawks and pointing their guns, and the settlers, however much in the right, were forced to give way. the natural result was that the colonists were continually smarting under a sense of wrong, while the maoris grew insolent and contemptuous, and were filled with an overweening confidence in their own powers, the result of the patience and enforced submission of the settlers. the authority of the queen over the natives has always been a purely nominal one. there was indeed a treaty signed acknowledging her government, but as none of the chiefs put their name to this, and the men who signed were persons of inferior rank with no authority whatever to speak for the rest, the treaty was not worth the paper on which it was written. "the maoris from the first exhibited a great desire for education. they established numerous schools in their own districts and villages; in most cases accepted nominally if not really the christian religion, and studied history with a good deal of intelligence. some of them read that the romans conquered england by making roads everywhere through the island, and the natives therefore determined that no roads should be constructed through their lands, and every attempt on the part of government to carry roads beyond the lands it had bought from them was resisted so firmly and angrily that the attempt had to be abandoned. the natives were well enough aware that behind the despised settlers was the power of england, and that if necessary a numerous army could be sent over, but they relied absolutely upon their almost impassable swamps, their rivers, forests, and mountains. "here they thought they could maintain themselves against any force that might be sent against them, and relying upon this they became more and more insolent and overbearing, and for some time before the outbreak in every one saw that sooner or later the storm would burst, and the matter have to be fought out until either we were driven from the island or the natives became thoroughly convinced of their inability to oppose us. "at first the natives had sold their land willingly, but as the number of the european settlers increased they became jealous of them, and every obstacle was thrown in the way of land sales by the chiefs. disputes were constantly arising owing to the fact that the absolute ownership of land was very ill defined, and perhaps a dozen or more persons professed to have claims of some sort or other on each piece of land, and had to be individually settled with before the sale could be effected. when as it seemed all was satisfactorily concluded, fresh claimants would arise, and disputes were therefore of constant occurrence, for there were no authorities outside the principal settlements to enforce obedience to the law. "even in auckland itself the state of things was almost unbearable. drunken maoris would indulge in insolent and riotous behaviour in the street; for no native could be imprisoned without the risk of war, and with the colonists scattered about all over the country the risk was too great to be run. in addition to the want of any rule or authority to regulate the dealings of the natives with the english, there were constant troubles between the native tribes. "then began what is called the king movement. one of the tribes invited others to join in establishing a central authority, who would at once put a stop to these tribal feuds and enforce something like law and order, and they thought that having a king of their own would improve their condition--would prevent land from being sold to the whites and be a protection to the people at large, and enable them to hold their own against the settlers. several of the tribes joined in this movement. meetings were held in various parts in imitation of the colonial assemblies. the fruit of much deliberation was that a chief named potatau, who was held in the highest esteem, not only by the tribes of waikato, but throughout the whole island, as one of the greatest of their warriors and wisest of their chiefs, was chosen as king. "the movement excited much apprehension in auckland and the other settlements, for it was plain that if the maoris were governed by one man and laid aside their mutual enmities they would become extremely formidable. at the great meeting that was held, the bishop of new zealand, the head of the wesleyan body, and several other missionaries were present, and warned the maoris of the dangers that would arise from the course they were taking. "the warning was in vain, and potatau was chosen king. mr. fenton, a government official, went on a tour among the natives. he found that there was still what was called a queen's party, but the king's party was very much the strongest. for two years, however, things went on somewhat as before, and it was not until , when a quarrel arose over some land in the province of taranaki, that troubles fairly began. in this district a chief named wiremu-kingi had established a sort of land league, and given notice to the governor that he would not permit any more land to be sold in the district. a native named teira, who owned some land at waiteira, offered it for sale to the government. after examining his title, and finding that it was a valid one, the land was purchased. "in the spring of the governor tried to take possession. wiremu-kingi forcibly resisted, the troops were called out, and war began. wiremu-kingi had unquestionably certain rights on teira's land, for he and his tribe were amicably settled upon it, had built houses, and were making plantations; but of these facts the government were ignorant when they bought the land. wiremu-kingi at once joined the king movement, from which he had previously stood aloof. a meeting was held at the waikato. chief wiremu-kingi and mr. m'lean, the native secretary, both addressed the meeting, and potatau and many of the chiefs were of opinion that the english had acted fairly in the case. many of the younger chiefs, however, took the part of the taranaki natives, and marched away and joined them. "unfortunately, in the first fight that took place, our troops were driven back in an attack upon a pah, and the news of this success so fired the minds of all the fighting men of the waikato, and neighbouring tribes, that they flocked down to taranaki and joined in plundering the deserted homes of the settlers, and in the attacks upon the troops. potatau and his council did all they could to stop their men from going, but the desire to distinguish themselves and to take part in the victories over the pakehas, which is what the natives call the whites, were too strong for them. in the midst of all this turmoil potatau died, and his son matu-taera was made king. "in the fighting that went on in taranaki discipline and training soon began to make themselves felt. the troops in the colony were largely reinforced, and pah after pah were captured. the war went on. but though english regiments with a strong force of artillery were engaged in it, it cannot be said that the natives have been conquered, and general cameron, who came out and assumed the command, found the task before him a very difficult one. "there was for a time a pause in hostilities when sir george grey came out as governor in the place of governor brown, but the natives recommenced hostilities by a treacherous massacre near new plymouth, and fighting began again at once. "the native pah near the katikara river was attacked by a column of infantry with artillery, and shelled by the guns of a ship of war, and the maoris were driven out of a position that they believed impregnable. the waikatos now rose and murdered and plundered many of the settlers, and a force marched for the first time into their country, carried a formidable pah at koheroa, and, although unprovided with artillery, defeated the maoris in a fight in the thick bush. the very formidable position at merimeri, which lay surrounded by swamps near the waikato river, was next captured, although held by eleven hundred maoris, led by their great chief wiremu-tamehana, called by the missionaries william thompson. "the next attack was upon a strongly-fortified position at rangiriri, lying between the waikato river and waikare lake. this was successful, and the nation were next thrashed at rangiawhia, at kaitake, on the th of last march. thus, you see, in almost all of these fights we succeeded in capturing the enemy's pah or in defeating them if they fought in the open. unfortunately, although these engagements showed the natives that in fair fighting they were no match for our troops, they have done little more. when their pahs were captured they almost invariably managed to make their way through the dense bush, and it can scarcely be said that we do more than hold the ground occupied by our soldiers. and so matters still go on. the fighting has been confined to the taranaki and auckland provinces, and we may hope that it will go no further." "well, it is quite evident," mr. renshaw said, "that neither the waikato country nor taranaki are fit places for quiet people to settle at the present time, and i suppose the northern part of wellington is not much better?" "no, i cannot say it is," mr. jackson said. "the wanganui tribe on the river of that name are in alliance with the taranaki people, and have joined them in fighting against us, and i believe that general cameron will shortly undertake a campaign against them. i should strongly advise you to turn your attention to the eastern side of this province, or to the province of hawke bay, higher up, where they have had no trouble whatever, and where, as you know, our friends the mitfords are settled." "what is this that i have heard about a new religion that has been started among the maoris?" "there is but little known about it, and if it were not that should this religion spread it will add to our difficulties, no one would think anything about it one way or the other. there was a fellow named te ua, who had always been looked upon as a harmless lunatic. no doubt he is a lunatic still, though whether he will be harmless remains to be seen. however, he some little time ago gave out that the archangel michael, the angel gabriel, and hosts of minor spirits visited him and gave him permission to preach a new religion, and bestowed on him great power. "the religion was to be called pai marire, which interpreted literally means good and peaceful; and it is also called hau-hau, the meaning of which is obscure, but it is a special word of power that te ua professes to have specially received from the angel gabriel. as far as we have been able to learn the hau-haus have no special belief or creed, except that their leader has a divine mission, and that all he says is to be implicitly obeyed. certainly the religion has spread quickly among the tribes, and has latterly taken the form of hostility to us. still, we may hope that it will soon die out. it is said that te ua has told his followers that they are invulnerable, but if they try conclusions with us they will very speedily find that he has deceived them, and are not likely to continue their belief in him." "then the colonists themselves, mr. jackson, have taken but little share in the fighting so far?" "oh, yes, they have. there have been several corps of rangers which have done capital service. the corps led by majors atkinson, von tempsky, and m'donnell have done great service, and are far more dreaded by the natives than are the slow-moving regular troops. they fight the natives in their own manner--make raids into their country and attack their positions at night, and so much are they dreaded that the natives in villages in their vicinity are in the habit of leaving their huts at night and sleeping in the bush lest they should be surprised by their active enemy. the general opinion among us colonists is that ten companies like von tempsky's would do a great deal more than ten british regiments towards bringing the matter to a conclusion. "in the first place, the officers and troops of the regular army cannot bring themselves to regard the natives with the respect they deserve as foes. their movements are hampered by the necessity of a complicated system of transport. their operations, accompanied as they are by artillery and a waggon train, are slow in the extreme, and do what they will the natives always slip through their hands. the irregular corps, on the other hand, thoroughly appreciate the activity and bravery of the maoris. they have lived among them, and know their customs and ways. they have suffered from the arrogance and insolence of the natives before the outbreak of the war, and most of them have been ruined by the destruction of their farms and the loss of years of patient labour. thus they fight with a personal feeling of enmity against their foes, and neither fatigue nor danger is considered by them if there is a chance of inflicting a blow upon their enemy. i am convinced that at last the imperial government will be so disgusted at the failure of the troops to bring the war to a conclusion, and at the great expense and loss of life entailed by the operations, that they will recall the regulars and leave the colonists to manage the affair themselves, in which case i have no fear whatever as to their bringing it to a prompt conclusion. looking at the matter from a business point of view, there is no doubt, mr. renshaw, that those who, like yourself, come out at the present time will benefit considerably. you will get land at a quarter the price you would have had to pay for it had it not been for these troubles, and as soon as the war is over the tide of emigration will set in again more strongly than before, and land will go to prices far exceeding those that ruled before the outbreak began." upon the following morning mr. atherton and wilfrid embarked in the schooner. they had been furnished by mr. jackson with a number of letters of introduction to settlers in every district they were to visit. "these will really only be of use to you in the small towns," he said, "for in the country districts every house is open, and you have generally only to ride up to a door, put up your horses, and walk in, and you are almost sure to meet with a hearty welcome. still, as you are new-comers, and have not rubbed off your old country ideas, it will be more pleasant for you to take letters. at the ports, such as they are, you may really find them useful, for you will not find any inns. you can strike out anywhere into the back country without the least fear of being inconvenienced by natives." the two friends spent a pleasant fortnight touching at the settlements, situated for the most part at the mouths of the rivers, and spending the time the vessel remained there in short excursions into the interior. they were most pleased with the wairarapa valley, running up from palliser bay; but this being near wellington the land was all taken up, and there were many flourishing villages and small towns. "this is very nice," wilfrid said, "but the price of land is far too high for us, and we might almost as well have taken to farming in england." the eastern coast of the province was dotted by little settlements, lying for the most part at the mouths of small rivers, and several of these offered favourable facilities for settlement. passing on, they found that the coast was bolder along the province of hawke bay. they stopped at clive, at the mouth of the bay, for a day or two, and went up the tukataki river in a canoe to the town of waipawa. but here they found the farms thick and land comparatively expensive. they left the schooner at napier, the chief town of the province, and after making several excursions here went up in a coasting craft to the mouth of the river mohaka, which runs into the sea a short distance to the south of the boundary line between hawke bay and the province of auckland. a few miles up this river was the farm of mr. mitford. hiring a boat they proceeded up the river, and landed in front of the comfortable-looking farmhouse of the settler. mr. mitford, seeing strangers approaching, at once came down to meet them, and received them with the greatest cordiality as soon as he saw who they were. "i am heartily glad to see you!" he exclaimed, "and the girls will be delighted. they have been wondering ever since we got here when you would arrive. you have not, i hope, fixed upon any land yet, for they have set their heart upon your settling down as our neighbours. this is as pretty a valley as there is in the island, and you will have no difficulty in getting land at the lowest government price. there being no settlement of any size at the mouth of the river has deterred emigrants from coming here to search for land. but we can talk about that afterwards. come straight up to the house. i will send down one of my native boys to bring up your baggage." they spent a very pleasant evening at the farmhouse. mr. mitford owned a considerable extent of land, and was doing very well. he reared cattle and horses, which he sent down for sale to wellington. the house was large and comfortable, and bore signs of the prosperity of its owner. the girls were delighted at the place. they had been left in care of relatives at home when their father and mother came out six years before to settle in new zealand, and everything was as new to them as to wilfrid. they had taken to riding as soon as they arrived, and had already made excursions far up the valley with their father. "we were at a place yesterday, wilfrid," the eldest girl said, "that we agreed would suit your father admirably. it is about ten miles up the river. it was taken up only last year, father says, by a young englishman, who was going to make a home for someone he was engaged to in england. a few days since he was killed by a tree he was cutting down falling upon him. he lived twenty-four hours after the accident, and father rode out to him when he heard of it. he directed him to sell the land for whatever it would fetch, and to send the money over to england. there are two hundred acres on the river and a comfortable log hut, which could of course be enlarged. he had about fifteen acres cleared and cultivated. the scenery is beautiful, much prettier than it is here, with lots of lovely tree-ferns; and there are many open patches, so that more land can be cleared for cultivation easily. mabel and i agreed when we rode over there two days ago that it would be just the place for you." "it sounds first-rate," wilfrid said; "just the sort of place that will suit us." "but how about me, miss mitford?" mr. atherton asked. "have you had my interest at heart as well as those of wilfrid and his people?" "you can take up the next bit of land above it," mr. mitford said. "langston's was the last settlement on the river, so you can take up any piece of land beyond it at the government upset price, and do as much fishing and shooting as you like, for i hear from my daughters that you are not thinking of permanently settling here, but are only a bird of passage. anyhow, it would not be a bad investment for you to buy a considerable acreage, for as soon as the troubles are over there is sure to be a rush of emigration; and there are very few places now where land is to be had on a navigable river, so that when you are tired of the life you will be able to sell out at considerable profit." "it sounds tempting, mr. mitford, and i will certainly have a look at the ground. how much would this piece of land be of mr. langston's?" "the poor fellow told me to take anything that i could get. he said he knew that at present it was very difficult to sell land, as no new settlers were coming out, and that he should be very glad if i get what he gave for it, which was ten shillings an acre, and to throw in the improvements he had made; so that a hundred pounds would buy it all. i really don't think that mr. renshaw could do better if he looked all through the island. with a cow or two, a pen of pigs, and a score or two of fowls, he would practically be able to live on his land from the hour he settled there." wilfrid was greatly pleased at the idea. he knew that his father and mother had still eight hundred pounds untouched; two hundred pounds, together with the proceeds of his mother's trinkets and jewels, and the sale of the ponies and pony carriage, which had been her own property, having sufficed to pay for the passage of themselves and their two labourers, and for all expenses up to the time of their arrival at wellington. "if we could get another piece of two hundred acres adjoining it at the same price, i think my father would like to take it," he said; "it would give more room for horses and cattle to graze. of course we should not want it at first; but if as we got on we wanted more land, and had neighbours all round us and could not get it, it would be a nuisance." "i agree with you," mr. mitford said. "two hundred acres is more than you want if you are going to put it under the plough; it is not enough if you are going to raise cattle and horses. i should certainly recommend you to take up another two hundred. the next land on this side is still vacant. poor langston chose the spot because it happened to be particularly pretty, with an open glade down to the river, but the land for fully two miles on this side is unoccupied. you can get it at ten shillings an acre at present. i will see about it for you if you make up your mind after seeing langston's place, to take it." "of course i cannot settle it by myself, sir, not absolutely. i can only recommend it to my father as the best place that i have seen. if it is as you describe it they will be delighted." "well, we will ride over to-morrow and have a look at it. the only possible objection i have is loneliness; but that will improve in time; the natives here are perfectly peaceful, and we have never had the slightest trouble with them." "we are a good large party to begin with, you see," wilfrid said. "having the two men with us will take away the feeling of loneliness, especially if mr. atherton decides upon taking the piece of land next to us. then there are the two allens who came out with us. i promised to write and tell them if i found any nice place; and they said particularly that they wanted ground on a river if they could get it, as they are fond of boating and fishing, and fancied that if there were other farms round that they could, until their own place paid, help to keep themselves by taking their neighbours' crops down to market." "yes, it might pay if they got a large flat-boat capable of carrying cargo; but as far as light goods, letters, and groceries from town are concerned, the indians could do it cheaper in their canoes. however, at present there is no market for them to come down to. i keep what i call a grocery store for the benefit of the two or three score of settlers there are on the river. i do not make any profit out of the matter, but each season get a hogshead or two of sugar, a couple of tons of flour, some barrels of molasses, a few chests of tea, and an assortment of odds and ends, such as pickles, &c., with a certain amount of rum and whisky, and sell them at the price they stand me in at. i do not know what they would do without it here. i only open the store on the first monday of each month, and they then lay in what stores they require, so it gives me very little trouble. i generally take produce in return. my bills run on until they get up to the value of something a customer wants to sell--a horse, or two or three dozen sheep. that suits me just as well as money, as i send a cargo off to wellington every two or three months. "in time no doubt a settlement will spring up somewhere near the mouth of the river, and we shall have a trader or two establishing themselves there; but at present i am the purveyor of the district, and manage most of the business of the settlers in the way of buying and selling at wellington. so, you see, if you establish yourself here you will have no choice but to appoint me your grocer." wilfrid laughed. "it will be a great advantage to us to be able to get our things so close at hand. i was wondering how people did in the back settlements." "they generally send their drays every two or three months down to the nearest store, which may, of course, be fifty miles off, or even more. here, fortunately, you will not be obliged at first to have a dray, but can send any produce you have to sell down by water, which is a far cheaper and more convenient mode of carriage. you will not have much to send for some time, so that will not trouble you at present." "oh, no. we shall be quite content if we can live on the produce of our farm for the next year or two," wilfrid laughed. "it is," mr. mitford said, "an immense advantage to settlers when they have sufficient funds to carry them on for the first two or three years, because in that case they gain the natural increase of their animals instead of having to sell them off to pay their way. it is wonderful how a flock of sheep or a herd of cattle will increase if there is no selling. you may take it that under favourable circumstances a herd of cattle will nearly double itself every two years, allowing, of course, a large proportion of the bull calves to be sold off as soon as they arrive at maturity. sheep will increase even faster. if you can do without selling, you will be surprised, if you start with say fifty sheep or ten cows, in how short a time you will have as many animals as your land will carry." "but what are we to do then, sir?" "well, you will then, providing the country has not in the meantime become too thickly settled, pay some small sum to the natives for the right of grazing your cattle on their unoccupied ground. they cultivate a mere fraction of the land. in this way you can keep vastly larger herds than your own ground could carry. however, it is time to be turning in for the night. to-morrow we will start the first thing after breakfast to inspect langston's land." chapter x. the glade. when the party assembled at breakfast the next morning, mr. atherton's first question was: "is there such a thing as a boat or a good-sized canoe to be had, mr. mitford? if you had an elephant here i might manage, but as i suppose you do not keep such an animal in your stud i own that i should greatly prefer going by water to running the risk of breaking a horse's back and my own neck. if such a thing cannot be obtained i will get you, if you will, to let me have a native as guide, and i will walk, taking with me some small stock of provisions. i can sleep at this hut of langston's, for i say frankly that i should not care about doing the distance there and back in one day." "i have a boat," mr. mitford said smiling, "and you shall have a couple of natives to paddle you up. i will give orders for them to be ready directly after breakfast. you will scarcely be there as soon as we are, but you will be there long before we leave. of course we shall spend some time in going over the ground, and we shall take a boy with us with a luncheon basket, so you will find refreshment awaiting you when you get there." "that will suit me admirably." mr. atherton said. "a boating excursion up an unknown river is just the thing i like--that is, when the boat is a reasonable size. i was once fool enough on the amazon to allow myself to be persuaded that a canoe at most two feet wide would carry me, and the tortures i suffered during that expedition, wedged in the bottom of that canoe, and holding on to the sides, i shall never forget. the rascally indians made matters worse by occasionally giving sly lurches to the boat, and being within an ace of capsizing her. i had two days of that work before i got to a village where i could obtain a craft of reasonable size, and i should think i must have lost two stone in weight during the time. you think that that was rather an advantage i can see, miss mitford," he broke off, seeing a smile upon the girl's face. "well, yes, i could spare that and more, but i should prefer that it was abstracted by other means than that of agony of mind; besides, these improvements are not permanent." after a hearty breakfast the party prepared for their start. mrs. mitford had already said that she should not accompany them, the distance being longer than she cared to ride; and four horses were therefore brought round. mr. atherton was first seen fairly on his way in a good-sized boat, paddled by two powerful maoris. mr. mitford, his daughters, and wilfrid then mounted; the lad had already been asked if he was accustomed to riding. "not lately," he replied, "but i used to have a pony and rode a good deal when i was a small boy, and i daresay i can stick on." wilfrid was delighted with his ride through the forest. in his other trips ashore their way had led through an open country with low scrub bush, and this was his first experience of a new zealand forest. ferns were growing everywhere. the tree-ferns, coated with scales, rose from thirty to forty feet in the air. hymenophylla and polypodia, in extraordinary variety, covered the trunks of the forest trees with luxuriant growth. smaller ferns grew between the branches and twigs, and a thick growth of ferns of many species extended everywhere over the ground. the trees were for the most part pines of different varieties, but differing so widely in appearance from those wilfrid had seen in england, that had not mr. mitford assured him that they were really pines he would never have guessed they belonged to that family. mr. mitford gave him the native names of many of them. the totara matai were among the largest and most beautiful. the rimu was distinguished by its hanging leaves and branches, the tanekaha by its parsley-shaped leaves. among them towered up the poplar-shaped rewarewa and the hinau, whose fruit mr. mitford said was the favourite food of the parrots. among the great forest trees were several belonging to the families of the myrtles and laurels, especially the rata, whose trunk often measured forty feet in circumference, and on whose crown were branches of scarlet blossoms. but it was to the ferns, the orchids, and the innumerable creepers, which covered the ground with a natural netting, coiled round every stem, and entwined themselves among the topmost branches, that the forest owed its peculiar features. outside the narrow cleared track along which they were riding it would have been impossible for a man to make his way unless with the assistance of knife and hatchet, especially as some of the climbers were completely covered with thorns. and yet, although so very beautiful, the appearance of the forest was sombre and melancholy. a great proportion of the plants of new zealand bear no flowers, and except high up among some of the tree-tops no gay blossoms or colour of any kind meet the eye to relieve the monotony of the verdure. a deep silence reigned. wilfrid did not see a butterfly during his ride, or hear the song or even the chirp of a single bird. it was a wilderness of tangled green, unrelieved by life or colour. mr. mitford could give him the names of only a few of the principal trees; and seeing the infinite variety of the foliage around him, wilfrid no longer wondered mr. atherton should have made so long a journey in order to study the botany of the island, which is unique, for although many of the trees and shrubs can be found elsewhere, great numbers are entirely peculiar to the island. "are there any snakes?" wilfrid asked. "no; you can wander about without fear. there is only one poisonous creature in new zealand, and that is found north of the port of tauranga, forty or fifty miles from here. they say it exists only there and round potaki, near cook's strait. it is a small black spider, with a red stripe on its back. the natives all say that its bite is poisonous. it will not, they say, cause death to a healthy person, though it will make him very ill; but there are instances of sickly persons being killed by it. anyhow, the natives dread it very much. however, as the beast is confined to two small localities, you need not trouble about it. the thorns are the only enemies you have to dread as you make your way through the forest." "that is a comfort, anyhow," wilfrid said; "it would be a great nuisance to have to be always on the watch against snakes." the road they were traversing had been cleared of trees from one settler's holding to another, and they stopped for a few minutes at three or four of the farmhouses. some of these showed signs of comfort and prosperity, while one or two were mere log cabins. "i suppose the people here have lately arrived?" wilfrid remarked as they rode by one of these without stopping. "they have been here upwards of two years," mr. mitford replied; "but the place is not likely to improve were they to be here another ten. they are a thriftless lazy lot, content to raise just sufficient for their actual wants and to pay for whisky. these are the sort of people who bring discredit on the colony by writing home declaring that there is no getting on here, and that a settler's life is worse than a dog's. "people who come out with an idea that a colony is an easy place to get a living in are completely mistaken. for a man to succeed he must work harder and live harder here than he would do at home. he is up with the sun, and works until it is too dark to work longer. if he employs men he must himself set an example to them. men will work here for a master who works himself, but one who thinks that he has only to pay his hands and can spend his time in riding about the country making visits, or in sitting quietly by his fire, will find that his hands will soon be as lazy as he is himself. then the living here is rougher than it is at home for one in the same condition of life. the fare is necessarily monotonous. in hot weather meat will not keep more than a day or two, and a settler cannot afford to kill a sheep every day; therefore he has to depend either upon bacon or tinned meat, and i can tell you that a continuance of such fare palls upon the appetite, and one's meals cease to be a pleasure. but the curse of the country, as of all our colonies, is whisky. i do think the monotony of the food has something to do with it, and that if men could but get greater variety in their fare they would not have the same craving for drink. it is the ruin of thousands. a young fellow who lands here and determines to work hard and to abstain from liquors--i do not mean totally abstain, though if he has any inclination at all towards drink the only safety is total abstinence--is sure to get on and make his way, while the man who gives way to drink is equally certain to remain at the bottom of the tree. now we are just passing the boundary of the holding you have come to see. you see that piece of bark slashed off the trunk of that tree? that is what we call a blaze, and marks the line of the boundary." after riding a few minutes further the trees opened, and they found themselves in a glade sloping down to the river. a few acres of land had been ploughed up and put under cultivation. close by stood the hut, and beyond a grassy sward, broken by a few large trees, stretched down to the river. "that's the place," mr. mitford said, "and a very pretty one it is. poor young langston chose his farm specially for that bit of scenery." "it is pretty," wilfrid agreed; "i am sure my father and mother will be delighted with it. as you said, it is just like a piece of park land at home." the hut was strongly built of logs. it was about thirty feet long by twenty wide, and was divided into two rooms; the one furnished as a kitchen and living-room, the other opening from it as a bed-room. "there is not much furniture in it," mr. mitford said; "but what there is is strong and serviceable, and is a good deal better than the generality of things you will find in a new settler's hut. he was getting the things in gradually as he could afford them, so as to have it really comfortably furnished by the time she came out to join him. of course the place will not be large enough for your party, but you can easily add to it; and at any rate it is vastly better coming to a shanty like this than arriving upon virgin ground and having everything to do." "i think it is capital," wilfrid said. "now we will take a ride over the ground, and i will show you what that is like. of course it will give you more trouble clearing away the forest than it would do if you settled upon land without trees upon it. but forest land is generally the best when it is cleared; and i think that to people like your father and mother land like this is much preferable, as in making the clearings, clumps and belts of trees can be left, giving a home-like appearance to the place. of course upon bare land you can plant trees, but it is a long time before these grow to a sufficient size to give a character to a homestead. besides, as i told you, there are already several other natural clearings upon the ground, enough to afford grass for quite as many animals as you will probably start with." after an hour's ride over the holding and the lands adjoining it, which mr. mitford advised should be also taken up, they returned to the hut. a shout greeted them as they arrived, and they saw mr. atherton walking up from the river towards the hut. "a charming site for a mansion," he said as they rode up. "mr. mitford, i think i shall make you a bid for this on my own account, and so cut out my young friend wilfrid." "i am afraid you are too late," mr. mitford laughed. "i have already agreed to give him the option of it, keeping it open until we can receive a reply from his father." "i call that too bad," mr. atherton grumbled. "however, i suppose i must move on farther. but really this seems a charming place, and i am sure mrs. renshaw will be delighted with it. why, there must be thirty acres of natural clearing here?" "about that," mr. mitford replied; "and there are two or three other patches which amount to about as much more. the other hundred and forty are bush and forest. the next lot has also some patches of open land, so that altogether out of the four hundred acres there must be about a hundred clear of bush." "and how about the next lot, mr. mitford?" "i fancy that there is about the same proportion of open land. i have only once been up the river higher than this, but if i remember right there is a sort of low bluff rising forty or fifty feet above the river which would form a capital site for a hut." "i will set about the work of exploration this afternoon," mr. atherton said, "and if the next lot is anything like this i shall be very well contented to settle down upon it for a bit. i have always had a fancy for a sort of robinson crusoe life, and i think i can get it here, tempered by the change of an occasional visit to our friends when i get tired of my own company." the men had by this time brought up the basket of provisions, and the two girls were spreading a cloth on the grass in the shade of a tree at a short distance from the hut, for all agreed that they would rather take their lunch there than in the abode so lately tenanted by young langston. after the meal was over the party mounted their horses and rode back. one of the natives who had come up from the boat remained with mr. atherton, the others started back in the boat, as mr. atherton declared himself to be perfectly capable of making the journey on foot when he had finished his explorations. he returned two days later, and said he was quite satisfied with the proposed site for his hut and with the ground and forest. "i regard myself as only a temporary inhabitant," he said, "and shall be well content if, when i am ready for another move, i can get as much for the ground as i gave for it. in that way i shall have lived rent free and shall have had my enjoyment for nothing, and, i have no doubt, a pleasant time to look back upon." "do you never mean to settle down, mr. atherton?" mrs. mitford asked. [illustration: wilfrid and the grimstones find it hard work _page _] "in the dim future i may do so," he replied. "i have been wandering ever since i left college, some fifteen years ago. i return to london periodically, spend a few weeks and occasionally a few months there, enjoy the comforts of good living and club-life for a bit; then the wandering fit seizes me and i am off again. nature altogether made a mistake in my case. i ought to have been a thin wiry sort of man, and in that case i have no doubt i should have distinguished myself as an african explorer or something of that sort. unfortunately she placed my restless spirit in an almost immovable frame of flesh, and the consequence is the circle of my wandering is to a certain extent limited." "you make yourself out to be much stouter than you are, mr. atherton. of course you are stout, but not altogether out of proportion to your height and width of shoulders. i think you put it on a good deal as an excuse for laziness." mr. atherton laughed. "perhaps you are right, mrs. mitford, though my weight is really a great drawback to my carrying out my views in regard to travel. you see, i am practically debarred from travelling in countries where the only means of locomotion is riding on horses. i could not find animals in any foreign country that would carry me for any distances. i might in england, i grant, find a weight-carrying cob capable of conveying twenty stone along a good road, but i might search all asia in vain for such a horse, while as for africa, it would take a dozen natives to carry me in a hammock. no, i suppose i shall go on wandering pretty nearly to the end of the chapter, and shall then settle down in quiet lodgings somewhere in the region of pall mall." upon the day after his return from the inspection of the farm wilfrid wrote home to his father describing the location, and saying that he thought it was the very thing to suit them. it would be a fortnight before an answer could be received, and during that time he set to work at mr. mitford's place to acquire as much knowledge as possible of the methods of farming in the colony. the answer arrived in due course, and with it came the two grimstones. wilfrid had suggested in his letter that if his father decided to take the farm the two men should be sent up at once to assist in adding to the hut and in preparing for their coming, and that they should follow a fortnight later. mrs. mitford also wrote, offering them a warm invitation to stay for a time with her until their own place should be ready for their occupation. mr. mitford had an inventory of the furniture of the hut, and this was also sent, in order that such further furniture as was needed might be purchased at wellington. as soon as the letter was received, inclosing, as it did, a cheque for a hundred pounds, wilfrid went over with the two grimstones and took possession. mr. mitford, who was the magistrate and land commissioner for the district, drew up the papers of application for the plot of two hundred acres adjoining the farm, and sent it to wellington for mr. renshaw's signature, and said that in the meantime wilfrid could consider the land as belonging to them, as it would be theirs as soon as the necessary formalities were completed and the money paid. when wilfrid started, two natives, whom mr. mitford had hired for him, accompanied him, and he also lent him the services of one of his own men, who was a handy carpenter. the grimstones were delighted with the site of their new home. "why, it is like a bit of england, master wilfrid! that might very well be the thames there, and this some gentleman's place near reading; only the trees are different. when we get up a nice house here, with a garden round it, it will be like home again." during the voyage the renshaws had amused themselves by drawing a plan of their proposed house, and although this had to be somewhat modified by the existence of the hut, wilfrid determined to adhere to it as much as possible. the present kitchen should be the kitchen of the new house, and the room leading from it should be allotted to the grimstones. adjoining the kitchen he marked out the plan of the house. it was to consist of a sitting-room twenty feet square; beyond this was mr. and mrs. renshaw's bed-room; while behind it were two rooms, each ten feet square, for himself and marion. the roof was to project four feet in front of the sitting-room, so as to form a verandah there. a boat-load of supplies was sent up from mr. mitford's stores. these consisted of flour, sugar, tea, molasses, and bacon, together with half a sheep. it was arranged that while the building was going on wilfrid and the two grimstones should occupy the bed-room, and that the natives should sleep in the kitchen. the grimstones had brought with them the bedding and blankets with which they had provided themselves on board ship, while wilfrid took possession of the bed formerly occupied by the young settler. mr. mitford himself came over next morning and gave general instructions as to the best way of setting about the building of the house. he had already advised that it should be of the class known as log-huts. "they are much cooler," he said, "in the heat of summer than frame-huts, and have the advantage that in the very improbable event of troubles with the natives they are much more defensible. if you like, afterwards, you can easily face them outside and in with match-board and make them as snug as you like; but, to begin with, i should certainly say build with logs. my boy will tell you which trees you had better cut down for the work. it will take you a week to fell, lop, and roughly square them, and this day week i will send over a team of bullocks with a native to drag them up to the spot." the work was begun at once. half a dozen axes, some adzes, and other tools had been brought up with the supplies from the stores, and the work of felling commenced. wilfrid would not have any trees touched near the hut. "there are just enough trees about here," he said, "and it would be an awful pity to cut them down merely to save a little labour in hauling. it will not make any great difference whether we have the team for a week or a fortnight." wilfrid and the two young englishmen found chopping very hard work at first, and were perfectly astounded at the rapidity with which the maoris brought the trees down, each of them felling some eight or ten before the new hands had managed to bring one to the ground. "i would not have believed it if i had not seen it," bob, the elder of the two brothers, exclaimed as he stood breathless with the perspiration streaming from his forehead, "that these black chaps could have beaten englishmen like that! half a dozen strokes and down topples the tree, while i goes chop, chop, chop, and don't seem to get any nearer to it." "it will come in time," wilfrid said. "i suppose there is a knack in it, like everything else. it looks easy enough, but it is not easy if you don't know how to do it. it is like rowing; it looks the easiest thing in the world until you try, and then you find that it is not easy at all." when work was done for the day wilfrid and the grimstones could scarcely walk back to the hut. their backs felt as if they were broken, their arms and shoulders ached intolerably, their hands smarted as if on fire; while the maoris, who had each achieved ten times the result, were as brisk and fresh as they were at starting. one of them had left work an hour before the others, and by the time they reached the hut the flat cakes of flour and water known as dampers had been cooked, and a large piece of mutton was frizzling over the fire. wilfrid and his companions were almost too tired to eat, but they enjoyed the tea, although they missed the milk to which they were accustomed. they were astonished at the maoris' appetite, the three natives devouring an amount of meat which would have lasted the others for a week. "no wonder they work well when they can put away such a lot of food as that," bob grimstone said, after watching them for some time in silent astonishment. "bill and me was always considered as being pretty good feeders, but one of these chaps would eat twice as much as the two of us. i should say, mr. wilfrid, that in future your best plan will be to let these chaps board themselves. why, it would be dear to have them without pay if you had to feed them!" "mutton is cheap out here," wilfrid said. "you can get five or six pounds for the price which one would cost you at home; but still, i do not suppose they give them as much meat as they can eat every day. i must ask mr. mitford about it." he afterwards learned that the natives received rations of flour and molasses and tobacco, and that only occasionally salt pork or fresh meat were issued to them. but mr. mitford advised that wilfrid should, as long as they were at this work, let them feed with the men. "you will get a good deal more out of them if they are well fed and in good humour. when your people arrive the natives will of course have a shanty of their own at some distance from your house, and then you will put things on regular footing and serve out their rations to them weekly. i will give you the scale usually adopted in the colony." the second day wilfrid and the grimstones were so stiff that they could at first scarcely raise their axes. this gradually wore off, and at the end of three or four days they found that they could get through a far greater amount than at first with much less fatigue to themselves; but even on the last day of the week they could do little more than a third of the amount performed by the natives. by this time an ample supply of trees had been felled. the trunks had been cut into suitable lengths and roughly squared. the bullocks arrived from mr. mitford's, and as soon as the first logs were brought up to the house the work of building was commenced. the maori carpenter now took the lead, and under his instructions the walls of the house rose rapidly. the logs were mortised into each other at the corners; openings were left for the doors and windows. these were obtained from mr. mitford's store, as they were constantly required by settlers. at a distance of four feet in front of the house holes were dug and poles erected, and to these the framework of the roof was extended. this point was reached ten days after the commencement of the building, and the same evening a native arrived from mr. mitford's with a message that the party from wellington had arrived there and would come over the next day. he also brought a letter to wilfrid from the allens, in answer to one he had written them soon after his arrival, saying that they were so pleased with his description of the district they should come down at once, and, if it turned out as he described it, take up a tract of land in his neighbourhood. while wilfrid had been at work he had seen mr. atherton several times, as that gentleman had, upon the very day after his first trip up the river, filled up the necessary papers, hired half a dozen natives, and started up the river in a boat freighted with stores to his new location. wilfrid had not had time to go over to see him there, but he had several times sauntered over from his place, which was half a mile distant, after the day's work was over. he had got up his hut before wilfrid fairly got to work. it was, he said, a very modest shanty with but one room, which would serve for all purposes; his cooking being done by a native, for whom he had erected a small shelter twenty yards away from his own. "i have not quite shaken down yet," he said, "and do not press you to come over to see me until i have got everything into order. i am sure you feel thankful to me that i do not expect you to be tramping over to see me after your long day's work here. by the time your people arrive i shall have everything in order. i am expecting the things i have written for and my own heavy baggage in a few days from wellington." glad as he was to hear that his father and mother had arrived, wilfrid would have preferred that their coming should have been delayed until the house was finished and ready for them, and after his first greeting at the water side he said: "you must not be disappointed, mother, at what you will see. now everything is in confusion, and the ground is covered with logs and chips. it looked much prettier, i can assure you, when i first saw it, and it will do so again when we have finished and cleared up." "we will make all allowances, wilfrid," his mother replied as he helped her from the boat; "but i do not see that any allowance is necessary. this is indeed a sweetly pretty spot, and looks as you said like a park at home. if the trees had been planted with a special view to effect they could not have been better placed." "you have done excellently, wilfrid," his father said, putting his hand on his shoulder. "mr. mitford here has been telling me how energetically you have been working, and i see that the house has made wonderful progress." marion had, after the first greeting, leapt lightly from the boat and run up to the house, towards which the others proceeded at a more leisurely pace, stopping often and looking round at the pleasant prospect. marion was full of questions to wilfrid when they arrived. why were the walls made so thick? how were they going to stop up the crevices between the logs? where were the windows and doors coming from? what was the roof going to be made of? was there going to be a floor, or was the ground inside going to be raised to the level of the door-sill? when did he expect to get it finished, and when would they be ready to come in? couldn't they get some creepers to run up and hide these ugly logs? was it to be painted or to remain as it was? wilfrid answered all these questions as well as he was able. there was to be a floor over all the new portion of the building; mr. mitford was getting up the requisite number of planks from a saw-mill at the next settlement. the crevices were to be stopped with moss. it would be for their father to decide whether the logs should be covered with match-boarding inside or out, or whether they should be left as they were for the present. it would probably take another fortnight to finish the roof, and at least a week beyond that before the place would be fit for them to move in. "you see, marion, i have built it very much on the plan we decided upon on board the ship, only i was obliged to make a change in the position of the kitchen and men's room. the two grimstones are going to set to work to-morrow to dig up a portion of the ploughed land behind the house and sow vegetable seeds. things grow very fast here, and we shall soon get a kitchen-garden. as to flowers, we shall leave that to be decided when you come here." "i wish i could come over and live here at once and help," marion said. "there is nothing you can help in at present, marion, and it will be much more useful for you to spend a month in learning things at mr. mitford's. you undertook to do the cooking; and i am sure that will be quite necessary, for father and mother could never eat the food our maori cook turns out. and then you have got to learn to make butter and cheese and to cure bacon. that is a most important point, for we must certainly keep pigs and cure our own as mr. mitford does, for the stuff they have got at most of the places we touched at was almost uneatable. so, you see, there is plenty to occupy your time until you move in here, and our comfort will depend a vast deal upon the pains you take to learn to do things properly." "what are you going to roof it with, wilfrid?" mr. renshaw asked. "we are going to use these poles, father. they will be split in two and nailed with the flat side down on the rafters, and the shingles are going to be nailed on them. that will give a good solid roof that will keep out a good deal of heat. afterwards if we like we can put beams across the room from wall to wall and plank them, and turn the space above into a storeroom. of course that will make the house cooler and the rooms more comfortable, but as it was not absolutely necessary i thought it might be left for a while." "i think, wilfrid, i should like to have the rooms done with boards inside at once. the outside and the ceiling you speak of can very well wait, but it will be impossible to get the rooms to look at all neat and tidy with these rough logs for walls." "it certainly will be more comfortable," wilfrid agreed. "mr. mitford will get the match-boards for you. i will measure up the walls this evening and let you know how much will be required. and now shall we take a walk round the place?" the whole party spent a couple of hours in going over the property, with which mr. and mrs. renshaw were greatly pleased. luncheon had been brought up in the boat, and by the time they returned from their walk mrs. mitford and her daughters, who had not accompanied them, had lunch ready and spread out on the grass. the meal was a merry one. mr. renshaw was in high spirits at finding things so much more home-like and comfortable than he had expected. his wife was not only pleased for herself, but still more so at seeing that her husband evinced a willingness to look at matters in the best light, and to enter upon the life before him without regret over the past. "what are you going to call the place, mr. renshaw?" mrs. mitford asked. "that is always an important point." "i have not thought about it," mr. renshaw replied. "what do you think?" "oh, there are lots of suitable names," she replied, looking round. "we might call it riverside or the park or the glade." "i think the glade would be very pretty," marion said; "riverside would suit so many places." "i like the glade too," mrs. renshaw said. "have you thought of anything, wilfrid?" "no, mother, i have never given it a thought. i think the glade will do nicely." and so it was settled, and success to the glade was thereupon formally drunk in cups of tea. a month later the renshaws took possession of their new abode. it looked very neat with its verandah in front of the central portion, and the creepers which wilfrid had planted against the walls on the day after their visit, promised speedily to cover the logs of which the house was built. inside the flooring had been planed, stained a deep brown and varnished, while the match-boarding which covered the walls was stained a light colour and also varnished. the furniture, which had arrived the day before from hawke's bay was somewhat scanty, but wilfrid and marion, who had come over for the purpose, had made the most of it. a square of carpet and some rugs gave a cosy appearance to the floor, white curtains hung before the windows and a few favourite pictures and engravings, which they had brought with them from home, broke the bareness of the walls. altogether it was a very pretty and snug little abode of which mr. and mrs. renshaw took possession. chapter xi. the hau-haus. the next three months made a great change in the appearance of the glade. three or four plots of gay flowers cut in the grass between the house and the river gave a brightness to its appearance. the house was now covered as far as the roof with greenery, and might well have been mistaken for a rustic bungalow standing in pretty grounds on the banks of the thames. behind, a large kitchen-garden was in full bearing. it was surrounded by wire network to keep out the chickens, ducks, and geese, which wandered about and picked up a living as they chose, returning at night to the long low shed erected for them at some distance from the house, receiving a plentiful meal on their arrival to prevent them from lapsing into an altogether wild condition. forty acres of land had been reploughed and sown, and the crops had already made considerable progress. in the more distant clearings a dozen horses, twenty or thirty cows, and a small flock of a hundred sheep grazed, while some distance up the glade in which the house stood was the pig-sty, whose occupants were fed with refuse from the garden, picking up, however, the larger portion of their living by rooting in the woods. long before mr. and mrs. renshaw moved into the house, wilfrid, whose labours were now less severe, had paid his first visit to mr. atherton's hut. he was at once astonished and delighted with it. it contained indeed but the one room, sixteen feet square, but that room had been made one of the most comfortable dens possible. there was no flooring, but the ground had been beaten until it was as hard as baked clay, and was almost covered with rugs and sheep-skins; a sort of divan ran round three sides of it, and this was also cushioned with skins. the log walls were covered with cow-hides cured with the hair on, and from hooks and brackets hung rifles, fishing-rods, and other articles, while horns and other trophies of the chase were fixed to the walls. while the renshaws had contented themselves with stoves, mr. atherton had gone to the expense and trouble of having a great open fireplace, with a brick chimney outside the wall. here, even on the hottest day, two or three logs burnt upon old-fashioned iron dogs. on the wall above was a sort of trophy of oriental weapons. two very large and comfortable easy chairs stood by the side of the hearth, and in the centre of the room stood an old oak table, richly carved and black with age. a book-case of similar age and make, with its shelves well filled with standard works, stood against the one wall unoccupied by the divan. wilfrid stood still with astonishment as he looked in at the door, which mr. atherton had himself opened in response to his knock. "come in, wilfrid. as i told you yesterday evening i have just got things a little straight and comfortable." "i should think you had got them comfortable," wilfrid said. "i should not have thought that a log cabin could have been made as pretty as this. why, where did you get all the things? surely you can never have brought them all with you?" "no, indeed," mr. atherton laughed; "the greatest portion of them are products of the country. there was no difficulty in purchasing the skins, the arms, and those sets of horns and trophies. books and a few other things i brought with me. i have a theory that people very often make themselves uncomfortable merely to effect the saving of a pound or two. now, i rather like making myself snug, and the carriage of all those things did not add above five pounds to my expenses." "but surely that table and book-case were never made in new zealand?" "certainly not, wilfrid. at the time they were made the natives of this country hunted the moa in happy ignorance of the existence of a white race. no, i regard my getting possession of those things as a special stroke of good luck. i was wandering in the streets of wellington on the very day after my arrival, when i saw them in a shop. no doubt they had been brought out by some well-to-do emigrant, who clung to them in remembrance of his home in the old country. probably at his death his place came into the hands of some goths, who preferred a clean deal table to what he considered old-fashioned things. anyhow, there they were in the shop, and i bought them at once; as also those arm-chairs, which are as comfortable as anything of the kind i have ever tried. by the way, are you a good shot with the rifle, wilfrid?" "no, sir; i never fired a rifle in my life before i left england, nor a shot-gun either." "then i think you would do well to practise, lad; and those two men of yours should practise too. you never can say what may come of these native disturbances; the rumours of the progress of this new religion among them are not encouraging. it is quite true that the natives on this side of the island have hitherto been perfectly peaceable, but if they get inoculated with this new religious frenzy there is no saying what may happen. i will speak to your father about it. not in a way to alarm him; but i will point out that it is of no use your having brought out firearms if none of you know how to use them, and suggest that it will be a good thing if you and the men were to make a point of firing a dozen shots every morning at a mark. i shall add that he himself might just as well do so, and that even the ladies might find it an amusement, using, of course, a light rifle, or firing from a rest with an ordinary rifle with light charges, or that they might practice with revolvers. anyhow, it is certainly desirable that you and your father and the men should learn to be good shots with these weapons. i will gladly come over at first and act as musketry instructor." wilfrid embraced the idea eagerly, and mr. atherton on the occasion of his first visit to the glade in a casual sort of way remarked to mr. renshaw that he thought every white man and woman in the outlying colonies ought to be able to use firearms, as, although they might never be called upon to use them in earnest, the knowledge that they could do so with effect would greatly add to their feeling of security and comfort. mr. renshaw at once took up the idea and accepted the other's offer to act as instructor. accordingly, as soon as the renshaws were established upon their farm, it became one of the standing rules of the place that wilfrid and the two men should fire twelve shots at a mark every morning before starting for their regular work at the farm. the target was a figure roughly cut out of wood, representing the size and to some extent the outline of a man's figure. "it is much better to accustom yourself to fire at a mark of this kind than to practise always at a target," mr. atherton said. "a man may shoot wonderfully well at a black mark in the centre of a white square, and yet make very poor practice at a human figure with its dull shades of colour and irregular outline." "but we shall not be able to tell where our bullets hit," wilfrid said; "especially after the dummy has been hit a good many times." "it is not very material where you hit a man, wilfrid, so that you do hit him. if a man gets a heavy bullet, whether in an arm, a leg, or the body, there is no more fight in him. you can tell by the sound of the bullet if you hit the figure, and if you hit him you have done what you want to. you do not need to practise at distances over three hundred yards; that is quite the outside range at which you would ever want to do any shooting, indeed from fifty to two hundred i consider the useful distance to practise at. if you get to shoot so well that you can with certainty hit a man between those ranges, you may feel pretty comfortable in your mind that you can beat off any attack that might be made on a house you are defending. "when you have learnt to do this at the full-size figure you can put it in a bush so that only the head and shoulders are visible, as would be those of a native standing up to fire. all this white target-work is very well for shooting for prizes, but if troops were trained to fire at dummy figures at from fifty to two hundred yards distance, and allowed plenty of ammunition for practice and kept steadily at it, you would see that a single company would be more than a match for a whole regiment trained as our soldiers are." with steady practice every morning, wilfrid and the two young men made very rapid progress, and at the end of three months it was very seldom that a bullet was thrown away. sometimes mr. renshaw joined them in their practice, but he more often fired a few shots some time during the day with marion, who became quite an enthusiast in the exercise. mrs. renshaw declined to practise, and said that she was content to remain a non-combatant, and would undertake the work of binding up wounds and loading muskets. on saturday afternoons, when the men left off work somewhat earlier than usual, there was always shooting for small prizes. twelve shots were fired by each at a figure placed in the bushes a hundred yards away, with only the head and shoulders visible. after each had fired, the shot-holes were counted and then filled up with mud, so that the next marks made were easily distinguishable. mr. renshaw was uniformly last. the grimstones and marion generally ran each other very close, each putting eight or nine of their bullets into the figure. wilfrid was always handicapped two shots, but as he generally put the whole of his ten bullets into the mark, he was in the majority of cases the victor. the shooting party was sometimes swelled by the presence of mr. atherton and the two allens, who had arrived a fortnight after the renshaws, and had taken up the section of land next below them. mr. atherton was incomparably the best shot of the party. wilfrid, indeed, seldom missed, but he took careful and steady aim at the object, while mr. atherton fired apparently without waiting to take aim at all. sometimes he would not even lift his gun to his shoulder, but would fire from his side, or standing with his back to the mark would turn round and fire instantaneously. "that sort of thing is only attained by long practice," he would say in answer to wilfrid's exclamations of astonishment. "you see, i have been shooting in different parts of the world and at different sorts of game for some fifteen years, and in many cases quick shooting is of just as much importance as straight shooting." but it was with the revolver that mr. atherton most surprised his friends. he could put six bullets into half a sheet of note-paper at a distance of fifty yards, firing with such rapidity that the weapon was emptied in two or three seconds. "i learned that," he said, "among the cow-boys in the west. some of them are perfectly marvellous shots. it is their sole amusement, and they spend no inconsiderable portion of their pay on cartridges. it seems to become an instinct with them, however small the object at which they fire they are almost certain to hit it. it is a common thing with them for one man to throw an empty meat-tin into the air and for another to put six bullets in before it touches the ground. so certain are they of their own and each others' aim, that one will hold a halfpenny between his finger and thumb for another to fire at from a distance of twenty yards, and it is a common joke for one to knock another's pipe out of his mouth when he is quietly smoking. "as you see, though my shooting seems to you wonderful, i should be considered quite a poor shot among the cow-boys. of course, with incessant practice such as they have i should shoot a good deal better than i do; but i could never approach their perfection, for the simple reason that i have not the strength of wrist. they pass their lives in riding half-broken horses, and incessant exercise and hard work harden them until their muscles are like steel, and they scarcely feel what to an ordinary man is a sharp wrench from the recoil of a heavily-loaded colt." life was in every way pleasant at the glade. the work of breaking up the land went on steadily, but the labour, though hard, was not excessive. in the evening the allens or mr. atherton frequently dropped in, and occasionally mr. mitford and his daughters rode over, or the party came up in the boat. the expense of living was small. they had an ample supply of potatoes and other vegetables from their garden, of eggs from their poultry, and of milk, butter, and cheese from their cows. while salt meat was the staple of their food, it was varied occasionally by chicken, ducks, or a goose, while a sheep now and then afforded a week's supply of fresh meat. mr. renshaw had not altogether abandoned his original idea. he had already learnt something of the maori language from his studies on the voyage, and he rapidly acquired a facility of speaking it from his conversations with the two natives permanently employed on the farm. one of these was a man of some forty years old named wetini, the other was a lad of sixteen, his son, whose name was whakapanakai, but as this name was voted altogether too long for conversational purposes he was re-christened jack. wetini spoke but a few words of english, but jack, who had been educated at one of the mission schools, spoke it fluently. they, with wetini's wife, inhabited a small hut situated at the edge of the wood, at a distance of about two hundred yards from the house. it was mr. renshaw's custom to stroll over there of an evening, and seating himself by the fire, which however hot the weather the natives always kept burning, he would converse with wetini upon the manners and customs, the religious beliefs and ceremonies, of his people. in these conversations jack at first acted as interpreter, but it was not many weeks before mr. renshaw gained such proficiency in the tongue that such assistance was no longer needed. but the period of peace and tranquillity at the glade was but a short one. wilfrid learnt from jack, who had attached himself specially to him, that there were reports among the natives that the prophet te ua was sending out missionaries all over the island. this statement was true. te ua had sent out four sub-prophets with orders to travel among the tribes and inform them that te ua had been appointed by an angel as a prophet, that he was to found a new religion to be called pai marire, and that legions of angels waited the time when, all the tribes having been converted, a general rising would take place, and the pakeha be annihilated by the assistance of these angels, after which a knowledge of all languages and of all the arts and sciences would be bestowed upon the pai marire. had te ua's instructions been carried out, and his agents travelled quietly among the tribes, carefully abstaining from all open hostility to the whites until the whole of the native population had been converted, the rising when it came would have been a terrible one, and might have ended in the whole of the white population being either destroyed or forced for a time to abandon the island. fortunately the sub-prophets were men of ferocious character. too impatient to await the appointed time, they attacked the settlers as soon as they collected sufficient converts to do so, and so they brought about the destruction of their leaders' plans. these attacks put the colonists on their guard, enabled the authorities to collect troops and stand on the defensive, and, what was still more important, caused many of the tribes which had not been converted to the pai marire faith to range themselves on the side of the english. not because they loved the whites, but because from time immemorial the tribes had been divided against each other, and their traditional hostility weighed more with them than their jealousy with the white settlers. still, although these rumours as to the spread of the pai marire or hau-hau faith reached the ears of the settlers, there were few in the western provinces who believed that there was any real danger. the maoris had always been peaceful and friendly with them, and they could not believe that those with whom they had dwelt so long could suddenly and without any reason become bloodthirsty enemies. wilfrid said nothing to his parents as to what he had heard from jack, but he talked it over with mr. atherton and the allens. the latter were disposed to make light of it, but mr. atherton took the matter seriously. "there is never any saying how things will go with the natives," he said. "all savages seem to be alike. up to a certain point they are intelligent and sensible; but they are like children; they are easily excited, superstitious in the extreme, and can be deceived without the slightest difficulty by designing people. of course to us this story of te ua's sounds absolutely absurd, but that is no reason why it should appear absurd to them. these people have embraced a sort of christianity, and they have read of miracles of all sorts, and will have no more difficulty in believing that the angels could destroy all the europeans in their island than that the assyrian army was miraculously destroyed before jerusalem. "without taking too much account of the business, i think, wilfrid, that it will be just as well if all of us in these outlying settlements take a certain amount of precautions. i shall write down at once to my agent at hawke bay asking him to buy me a couple of dogs and send them up by the next ship. i shall tell him that it does not matter what sort of dogs they are so that they are good watch-dogs, though, of course, i should prefer that they should be decent dogs of their sort, dogs one could make companions of. i should advise you to do the same. "i shall ask mr. mitford to get me up at once a heavy door and shutters for the window strong enough to stand an assault. here again i should advise you to do the same. you can assign any reason you like to your father. with a couple of dogs to give the alarm, with a strong door and shutters, you need not be afraid of being taken by surprise, and it is only a surprise that you have in the first place to fear. of course if there were to be anything like a general rising we should all have to gather at some central spot agreed upon, or else to quit the settlement altogether until matters settle down. still, i trust that nothing of that sort will take place. at any rate, all we have to fear and prepare against at present is an attack by small parties of fanatics." wilfrid had no difficulty in persuading his father to order a strong oak door and shutters for the windows, and to get a couple of dogs. he began the subject by saying: "mr. atherton is going to get some strong shutters to his window, father. i think it would be a good thing if we were to get the same for our windows." "what do we want shutters for, wilfrid?" "for just the same reason that we have been learning to use our firearms, father. we do not suppose that the natives, who are all friendly with us, are going to turn treacherous. still, as there is a bare possibility of such a thing, we have taken some pains in learning to shoot straight. in the same way it would be just as well to have strong shutters put up. we don't at all suppose we are going to be attacked, but if we are the shutters would be invaluable, and would effectually prevent anything like a night surprise. the expense wouldn't be great, and in the unlikely event of the natives being troublesome in this part of this island we should all sleep much more soundly and comfortably if we knew that there was no fear of our being taken by surprise. mr. atherton is sending for a couple of dogs too. i have always thought that it would be jolly to have a dog or two here, and if we do not want them as guards they would be pleasant as companions when one is going about the place." a few days after the arrival of two large watch-dogs and of the heavy shutters and door, mr. mitford rode in to the glade. he chatted for a few minutes on ordinary subjects, and then mrs. renshaw said: "is anything the matter, mr. mitford? you look more serious than usual." "i can hardly say that anything is exactly the matter, mrs. renshaw; but i had a batch of newspapers and letters from wellington this morning, and they give rather stirring news. the hau-haus have come into collision with us again. you know that a fortnight since we had news that they had attacked a party of our men under captain lloyd and defeated them, and, contrary to all native traditions, had cut off the heads of the slain, among whom was captain lloyd himself. i was afraid that after this we should soon hear more of them, and my opinion has been completely justified. on the st of may two hundred of the ngataiwa tribe, and three hundred other natives under te ua's prophet hepanaia and parengi-kingi of taranaki, attacked a strong fort on sentry hill, garrisoned by fifty men of the d regiment under major short. "the ngataiwa took no part in the action, but the hau-haus charged with great bravery. the garrison, fortunately being warned by their yells of what was coming, received them with such a heavy fire that their leading ranks were swept away, and they fell back in confusion. they made a second charge, which was equally unsuccessful, and then fell back with a loss of fifty-two killed, among whom were both the hau-hau prophet and parengi-kingi. "the other affair has taken place in the wellington district. matene, another of the hau-hau prophets, came down to pipiriki, a tribe of the wanganui. these people were bitterly hostile to us, as they had taken part in some of the former fighting, and their chief and thirty-six of his men were killed. the tribe at once accepted the new faith. mr. booth, the resident magistrate, who was greatly respected among them, went up to try to smooth matters down, but was seized, and would have been put to death if it had not been for the interference in his favour of a young chief named hori patene, who managed to get him and his wife and children safely down in a canoe to the town of wanganui. the hau-haus prepared to move down the river to attack the town, and sent word to the ngatihau branch of the tribe who lived down the river to join them. they and two other of the wanganui tribes living on the lower part of the river refused to do so, and also refused to let them pass down the river, and sent a challenge for a regular battle to take place on the island of moutoa in the river. "the challenge was accepted. at dawn on the following morning our natives, three hundred and fifty strong, proceeded to the appointed ground. a hundred picked men crossed on to the island, and the rest remained on the banks as spectators. of the hundred, fifty, divided into three parties each under a chief, formed the advance guard, while the other fifty remained in reserve at the end of the island two hundred yards away, and too far to be of much use in the event of the advance guard being defeated. the enemy's party were a hundred and thirty strong, and it is difficult to understand why a larger body was not sent over to the island to oppose them, especially as the belief in the invulnerability of the hau-haus was generally believed in, even by the natives opposed to them. "it was a curious fight, quite in the manner of the traditional warfare between the various tribes before our arrival on the island. the lower tribesmen fought, not for the defence of the town, for they were not very friendly with the europeans, having been strong supporters of the king party, but simply for the prestige of the tribe. no hostile war party had ever forced the river, and none ever should do so. the hau-haus came down the river in their canoes and landed without opposition. then a party of the wanganui advance guard fired. although the hau-haus were but thirty yards distant none of them fell, and their return volley killed the chiefs of two out of the three sections of the advance guard and many others. "disheartened by the loss of their chiefs, the two sections gave way, shouting that the hau-haus were invulnerable. the third section, well led by their chief, held their ground, but were driven slowly back by the overwhelming force of the enemy. the battle appeared to be lost, when tamehana, the sub-chief of one of the flying sections, after vainly trying to rally his men, arrived on the ground, and, refusing to obey the order to take cover from the hau-haus' fire, dashed at the enemy and killed two of them with his double-barrelled gun. the last of the three leaders was at this moment shot dead. nearly all his men were more or less severely wounded, but as the hau-haus rushed forward they fired a volley into them at close quarters, killing several. but they still came on, when tamehana again rushed at them. seizing the spear of a dead man he drove it into the heart of a hau-hau. catching up the gun and tomahawk of the fallen man, he drove the latter so deeply into the head of another foe that in wrenching it out the handle was broken. finding that the gun was unloaded, he dashed it in the face of his foes, and snatching up another he was about to fire, when a bullet struck him in the arm. nevertheless he fired and killed his man, but the next moment was brought to the ground by a bullet that shattered his knee. "at this moment hainoma, who commanded the reserve, came up with them, with the fugitives whom he had succeeded in rallying. they fired a volley, and then charged down upon the hau-haus with their tomahawks. after a desperate fight the enemy were driven in confusion to the upper end of the island, where they rushed into the water and attempted to swim to the right bank. the prophet was recognized among the swimmers. one of the wanganui plunged in after him, overtook him just as he reached the opposite bank, and in spite of the prophet uttering the magic words that should have paralysed his assailant, killed him with his tomahawk and swam back with the body to hainoma." "they seem to have been two serious affairs," mr. renshaw said; "but as the hau-haus were defeated in each we may hope that we have heard the last of them, for as both the prophets were killed the belief in the invulnerability of te ua's followers must be at an end." "i wish i could think so," mr. mitford said; "but it is terribly hard to kill a superstition. te ua will of course say that the two prophets disobeyed his positive instructions and thus brought their fate upon themselves, and the incident may therefore rather strengthen than decrease his influence. the best part of the business in my mind is that some of the tribes have thrown in their lot on our side, or if not actually on our side at any rate against the hau-haus. after this we need hardly fear any general action of the natives against us. there are all sorts of obscure alliances between the tribes arising from marriages, or from their having fought on the same side in some far-back struggle. the result is that the tribes who have these alliances with the wanganui will henceforth range themselves on the same side, or will at any rate hold aloof from this pai marire movement. this will also force other tribes, who might have been willing to join in a general movement, to stand neutral, and i think now, that although we may have a great deal of trouble with te ua's followers, we may regard any absolute danger to the european population of the island as past. "there may, i fear, be isolated massacres, for the hau-haus, with their cutting off of heads and carrying them about, have introduced an entirely new and savage feature into maori warfare. i was inclined to think the precautions you and atherton are taking were rather superfluous, but after this i shall certainly adopt them myself. everything is perfectly quiet here, but when we see how readily a whole tribe embrace the new religion as soon as a prophet arrives, and are ready at once to massacre a man who had long dwelt among them, and for whom they had always evinced the greatest respect and liking, it is impossible any longer to feel confident that the natives in this part of the country are to be relied upon as absolutely friendly and trustworthy. "i am sorry now that i have been to some extent the means of inducing you all to settle here. at the time i gave my advice things seemed settling down at the other end of the island, and this hau-hau movement reached us only as a vague rumour, and seemed so absurd in itself that one attached no importance to it." "pray do not blame yourself, mr. mitford; whatever comes of it we are delighted with the choice we have made. we are vastly more comfortable than we had expected to be in so short a time, and things look promising far beyond our expectations. as you say, you could have had no reason to suppose that this absurd movement was going to lead to such serious consequences. indeed you could have no ground for supposing that it was likely to cause trouble on this side of the island, far removed as we are from the scene of the troubles. even now these are in fact confined to the district where fighting has been going on for the last three or four years--taranaki and its neighbourhood; for the wanganui river, although it flows into the sea in the north of the wellington district, rises in that of taranaki, and the tribes who became hau-haus and came down the river had already taken part in the fighting with our troops. i really see no reason, therefore, for fearing that it will spread in this direction." "there is no reason whatever," mr. mitford agreed; "only, unfortunately, the natives seldom behave as we expect them to do, and generally act precisely as we expect they will not act. at any rate i shall set to work at once to construct a strong stockade at the back of my house. i have long been talking of forming a large cattle-yard there, so that it will not in any case be labour thrown away, while if trouble should come it will serve as a rallying-place to which all the settlers of the district can drive in their horses and cattle for shelter, and where they can if attacked hold their own against all the natives of the districts." "i really think you are looking at it in almost too serious a light, mr. mitford; still, the fact that there is such a rallying-place in the neighbourhood will of course add to our comfort in case we should hear alarming rumours." "quite so, mr. renshaw. my idea is there is nothing like being prepared, and though i agree with you that there is little chance of trouble in this remote settlement, it is just as well to take precautions against the worst." chapter xii. the first alarm. one morning mr. and mrs. renshaw went down to spend a long day with the mitfords. the latter had sent up the boat over-night, and they started the first thing in the morning. for the two or three days previous jack, the young native, had more than once spoken to wilfrid of the propriety of the hands keeping near the house, but wilfrid had failed to obtain from him any specific reasons for the warning. "bad men come down from waikato," he said. "much talkee talkee among natives." "but what do they talk about, jack?" jack shook his head. "jack no hear talkee. men come to hut and talk with father. other maoris on land steal in and talk too, but no talk before jack; always turn him out or send him on errand. but jack hear sometimes a word, and think that trouble come. young master better not go far away by himself, and tell two white men to keep close to hut. perhaps nothing come, but better to be on guard." "very well, jack; i am obliged to you for the warning. i will tell the grimstones not to go out to the outlying clearings, but to occupy themselves with what they can find to do near home." jack nodded. "that best, master wilfrid, but no talk too much with me. if my people thought i speak to you then trouble come to jack." wilfrid nodded, and without saying anything to his father and mother told the grimstones to keep near the house. "after you have done shooting of a morning," he said, "instead of bringing your guns into the house as usual take them down with you to the place where you are at work, so that they will be handy in case of necessity. most likely there is no danger whatever; but i have heard a rumour that some people from waikato have come into this neighbourhood, and if so no doubt they are trying to get the tribes here to join the hau-haus. i do not think that there is much chance of their succeeding, for the natives have always been very friendly, and there has been no dispute about land or any other grievance; but when one knows how suddenly they have risen in other places, it is better to take precautions." after breakfast on the morning when his father and mother had started, wilfrid strolled out on to the verandah, and stood for some little time hesitating what he should do. the grimstones had just started to look up some cattle in one of the distant clearings, one of the native hands having reported the evening before two of the animals were missing. "i will go not far till they come back," he said to himself. "the garden wants hoeing. weeds grow as fast here as they do at home. that will be just the job for me." he was about to turn to enter the house, when he saw four natives emerge from the trees and make towards him. "marion," he said through the open door, "get the guns down from the rack, and see that they are capped and ready. there are four natives coming towards the house. i daresay they are friendly, and are probably only on the way down the river to look for work, still as we are alone you cannot be too careful." hearing marion reply "all right, wilfrid!" the lad leant against the door in a careless attitude, and awaited the coming of the natives. as they approached he saw they were all strangers to him, although he knew most of the natives in the neighbourhood by sight, for these not infrequently came in to barter a pig or a sheep for tobacco, sugar, or other things necessary to them. the natives as they came up gave the usual salutation of good-day, to which wilfrid replied. "we are hungry," a tall maori, who by his dress appeared to be a chief, said. "i will get you something to eat," wilfrid answered. the maoris would have followed into the house, but he stopped and said sharply, "we do not allow strangers in the house. those we know are free to enter and depart as they choose, but i have not seen any of you before. if you will sit down on that bench outside i will bring you food." he soon reappeared with a dish of maize and boiled pork, for a supply was generally kept in readiness in case any of the natives should come in. "shuffle about and make a noise," he said to marion as she got the dish from the cupboard. "they cannot know who are inside, and if they mean mischief--and honestly i do not like their looks--they will be more likely to try it on if they think that i am alone." the maoris took the food in silence, and as they ate it wilfrid was amused to hear marion stamping heavily about inside, and occasionally speaking as if to her father. he could see that the men were listening, and they exchanged words in a low tone with each other. presently the leader of the party said, "drink!" wilfrid went in and brought out a pitcher of water. "gin!" the chief said shortly. "i have no gin to give you," wilfrid replied; "we do not keep spirits." the natives rose to their feet. "we will come in and see," the leader said. "no you won't!" wilfrid said firmly. "i have given you what food there is in the house, and you are welcome to it; but strangers don't come into the house unless they are invited." the native laid his hand on wilfrid's shoulder to push him aside, but four months of chopping and digging had hardened every muscle in the lad's body. he did not move an inch, but jerked the maori's hand off his shoulder. with an exclamation of anger the native drew a heavy knobbed stick from the girdle round his waist, but before he could raise it to strike another figure appeared at the door. marion held a gun in her hand which she raised to her shoulder. "drop that," she said in a clear ringing voice, "or i fire!" taken by surprise, and seeing the rifle pointed full at his head, the chief instantly dropped his club. at the same instant wilfrid sprang to the door, exclaiming "go in, marion!" and before the natives had recovered from their surprise the door was shut and barred. they had not been deceived by marion's attempt to personate a man, and their sharp ears had told them while eating their meal that there was but one person in the house, and that it was a girl. they knew that there was no other about, having watched the house for some time, and had therefore anticipated that the work of murder and plunder would be accomplished without difficulty. the instant the door was closed they bounded away at the top of their speed to the shelter of the bush, expecting every moment to hear the report of a rifle behind them; but the renshaws had not thought of firing. "well done, marion!" wilfrid exclaimed as soon as the door was fastened. "i was on the point of springing upon him when i heard your voice behind me; i think that i could have tripped him backwards, but if i had done so the others would have been upon me with their clubs. now, let us close and fasten the shutters, though i do not think we need have any fear of their coming back. in each case we have heard of they have always fallen on the settlers suddenly and killed them before they had time for resistance, and i do not think there is a chance of their trying to attack us now that they know we are ready for them. i expect that they were passing down to some of their people below, and seeing, as they thought, a defenceless hut, thought it would be an easy business to plunder it and knock on the head anyone they might find here. now that they have failed they will probably go on their journey again." "i was horribly frightened, wilfrid," marion said when they joined each other in the sitting-room after making all the fastenings secure. "you did not look frightened a bit, marion; and you certainly gave that fellow a tremendous scare. didn't he drop his club sharp? and now, what do you think we had better do? the first thing is to get the grimstones in. those fellows may have been watching for some time and saw them go out." "but they have got their guns with them, wilfrid. the natives would surely not think of attacking two men with guns when they have nothing but their clubs." "no, they certainly would not think of doing that, marion. but the chances are that they have got guns, and that they left them in the bush when they sallied out, as they wanted to look peaceful and take us by surprise." "i did not think of that, wilfrid. yes, perhaps they have guns. well, you know, it has always been agreed that in case of danger three shots should be fired as a warning to those who might be out. if we fire and they hear it they will hurry back." "yes, but they might be shot as they make their way down to the house; that is what i am afraid of." marion was silent for a minute. "do you know where they have gone to, wilfrid?" "they have gone in the first place to the clearing with those two big trees standing in the centre, but i cannot say where they may go to afterwards, for they had to look for four or five of the cattle that had strayed away." "i can slip out from the window in the men's room and get into the bush and work round to the clearing, wilfrid, and fire three shots there; that would bring them to me at once. you see, the natives couldn't cross the clearing here without your having them under your gun." "no, marion," wilfrid said decidedly; "that is not to be thought of. if they saw you going they could work up through the bush on their side to the top of the clearing, and then follow you. no; i think i will fire the three shots. we have talked it over several times, you know, and the grimstones have been told that if they heard the alarm they must make their way cautiously to the top of the clearing and see what is going on before they venture to make for the house. as soon as i see them i can shout to them to keep to the bush on their left till they get opposite the house. everything is so still that one can hear a shout a long way, and i feel sure i could make them understand as far off as the end of the clearing. it isn't as if we were sure that these fellows were still hanging about ready to attack us; the probabilities are all the other way. they would have murdered us if they could have taken us by surprise, but that is a different thing altogether to making an attack now they know we are armed and ready." taking three of the rifles, wilfrid opened one of the shutters at the back of the house and fired them, with an interval of about five seconds between each shot, then he stood at the window and watched the upper end of the glade. "dear me!" he exclaimed suddenly, "i am sorry we fired." "why?" marion asked in surprise. "because mr. atherton is sure to hear it if he is at home, and will come hurrying over; and if these fellows are still there he may come right into the middle of them." "i do not think he would do that, wilfrid," marion said, after thinking for a moment or two. "mr. atherton is not like the grimstones. he has been in all sorts of adventures, and though i am sure he will come to our help as soon as he can, i think he would take every precaution. he would know that the natives will be likely to come from above, and therefore be between him and us, and would come along carefully so as not to be surprised." "i hope so, i am sure," wilfrid said; "for he is an awfully good fellow. still, as you say, he is sure to keep his eyes opened, and unless they surprise him i should back him against the four of them." in a quarter of an hour they heard a shout from the edge of the clearing. "there are the allens!" wilfrid exclaimed as he leapt to the door. "i forgot about them, although of course they are nearer than mr. atherton. all right!" he shouted; "you can come on." the two allens ran across the open space between the wood and the house. "what is it, wilfrid?" they exclaimed as they came up. "you fired the alarm-signal, did you not?" both were breathless with the speed at which they had run. they had been engaged in felling when they heard the shot, and had thrown down their axes, run into the hut for their guns, and made for the glade at the top of their speed. in a few words wilfrid explained what had happened, and that there was every reason to believe that four hostile neighbours were lurking in the bush on the opposite side of the glade. the allens at once volunteered to go up to the head of the clearing to warn the grimstones. returning to the point where they had left the forest, they made their way among the trees until they reached the upper end of the clearing; then they sat down and listened. in a few minutes they heard the sound of breaking twigs. "here come the men," the elder allen said; "the maoris would come along noiselessly." two or three minutes later the grimstones came up at a run, accompanied by their two dogs. "this way," james allen said. "what is it, sir?" bob grimstone gasped. "we were a long way in the woods when we thought we heard three shots. we were not quite sure about it, but we started back as fast as we could come. there is nothing wrong, i hope?" "fortunately nothing has happened," james allen replied; "but four strange maoris came up to the house, and would certainly have murdered mr. wilfrid and his sister if they had not been prepared for them. whether they are in the bush now or not i do not know; but we have come up to warn you not to go up the clearing, as, if they are there, they might pick you off as you did so. we must come down under shelter of the trees till we are opposite the house." in ten minutes they reached the house. just as they did so mr. atherton appeared at the edge of the wood which they had just left. "thank god you are all safe!" he said as he strolled up to the house. "your three shots gave me a fright; but as i heard no more i was relieved, for the signal told that you had not been taken by surprise, and as there was no more firing it was clear they had drawn off." "but how did you get to that side of the clearing, mr. atherton?" "i followed the wood till within a few hundred yards of the clearing, as i made sure if there were hostile natives about they would be at the edge of the bush. then i got down into the river and waded along the edge. the bank in front here was not high enough to hide me, though i stooped as much as i could; but i reckoned that all eyes would be fixed on the house, and it was not likely i should be noticed. and now, what is it all about? i am sure you would not have fired the signal unless there had been good cause for the alarm." wilfrid related what had taken place. "well done, miss marion!" mr. atherton said when he had finished. "it was lucky for your brother that you did not go with your father and mother this morning. "it was lucky," wilfrid agreed; "but at the same time, if i had been quite alone i should have closed the shutters and door as they came up, and kept indoors. i only ventured to meet them outside because i knew that marion had a gun ready to hand to me the moment i wanted it." "yes; but you see there was not time to hand you the gun, wilfrid, as it turned out, and you would have been knocked on the head to a certainty if your sister had not come to your rescue." "that i certainly should; and i know that i owe marion my life. what do you think we had better do now?" "i do not think we can do anything, wilfrid, beyond trying to find out whether the fellows who came here were alone, or were part of a larger party. where are your natives?" "the three men are chopping, and jack went out with the grimstones to look for the cattle." "was he with you when you heard the shots fired, bob?" "he was with us a minute or two before, and was following a track. after we heard the signal we did not think anything more about him, and whether he followed us or went on looking after the cattle i do not know." "if you go to the door, wilfrid, and give a loud cooey it will bring him in if he is within hearing. you may be sure that he heard the signal, for his ears are keener than those of your men; but he would not rush straight back, but would come cautiously through the woods according to his nature." wilfrid went to the door and gave a loud cooey. a minute later the maori issued from the bush, nearly opposite the house, and ran in. "that's just where the natives took to the bush," wilfrid said. "perhaps he will be able to tell us something about them." "i expect he has been scouting," mr. atherton said, "and his coming boldly out from that point is a pretty sure proof that the natives have made off. well, jack, so you heard our signal?" jack nodded. "and what have you been doing since?" wilfrid asked. "jack went through the bush fast till he got near house, then, as the guns were not going off, he knew there could be no attack; but thought black man might be lying in bush, so he crept and crawled. presently he heard man talk, and then saw four maori walking fast away from house. he only heard them say as he passed, 'no use now; too many pakehas. come another day and finish them all.' jack was coming straight to house when he heard cooey." "you have seen nothing of your father and the other two men, jack?" the maori boy shook his head. "they chop wood; perhaps not heard signal." "more likely they heard, but thought it better to stay away," wilfrid said. "no got guns; they not fighting-men," jack said, as if in excuse. "there is something in that," mr. atherton said. "the hau-haus have always proved themselves even more merciless towards the friendly natives than towards the whites; and these men, being unarmed, might, even with the best disposition in the world, be afraid to come to the house. at any rate, i am glad those fellows have made off. you see, they were in a position to shoot any of us if they got the chance, while we were scarce in a position to return the compliment." "why not?" james allen asked. "because, although we could have now no doubt whatever as to their intentions, they have committed no actual assault. they tried their best to push their way into the house, and when wilfrid opposed them one of them drew his club; but they might say this was only done to frighten him, and that they had no thought of using it. if they had fired a shot, we should of course be justified in killing them; but were we to begin the shooting, the whole tribe they belong to would take it up, and there would be a cry for vengeance; and even if nothing were done at once, we should be marked down to be wiped out at the first opportunity. "we shall learn in a day or two whether the matter was serious or not," mr. atherton went on. "if there is anything like a general defection of the natives in these parts yours will not have been the only place threatened, and we shall hear of attacks on other settlers. if we do not hear of such attacks we can safely put it down that these four fellows were mere haphazard passers, like tramps at home, who were tempted by the fact that the house contained only two persons. in that case we need feel no further anxiety; for as you would be able to recognize them if you met them anywhere, they would not be likely to come near this part of the district again. at any rate i will set off with the boy here and one of the dogs, and will follow up their tracks and see if they have gone well away. i have no doubt they have done so; still, it will be more comfortable to make certain of it." "by the way, bob," wilfrid said, "don't you take those two dogs out again. i don't think they would be any good for hunting cattle, and would be much more likely to frighten and hunt them away than to help you to drive them in. at any rate they were bought as guards, and are to remain about the house. shall i go with you, mr. atherton?" "no, thank you, wilfrid; jack will be enough to help me follow the tracks, for what he heard them say is almost proof that they have gone. i shall go round to my own place when i have followed them fairly off the land, but will come round here to-morrow morning, when we will hold a general council of war. it is no use my coming back again this evening, as your father and the others will not be here before that time. it is possible that they will bring us some news from the mitfords. if there is any trouble anywhere along the river mitford is sure to be the first to hear of it. i will send a message back by jack when he has gone as far as necessary for our purpose." two hours later jack returned with the news that the maoris had gone straight on without making a stop. mr. and mrs. renshaw were expected back at about ten o'clock. they were to breakfast early at the mitfords and to come up with their light canoe. they arrived, however, soon after eight o'clock. "is all well?" mr. renshaw shouted as he stepped from the boat. "all well, father," marion replied, running down to meet them. "we had a little unpleasantness yesterday, but nothing of consequence. what brings you back so early? you must have started before daylight." "bad news came in yesterday evening, and we should have come straight over if it had been possible, but mr. mitford would not let us leave till morning. we have been very anxious about you." "what is the news?" wilfrid asked. "the natives murdered two settlers at a farm some four miles from mr. mitford's. yesterday he received letters both from poverty bay and napier saying that the natives were in a very disturbed state, that hau-hau prophets had been going about among them, and that in both districts there had been several murders. corps of volunteers are being raised at napier, and they have sent to wellington for a company of the constabulary. the settlers at poverty bay are also making preparations for defence. mr. mitford was asked to get all the colonists on this river to arm and prepare for an attack. of course this news was very alarming in itself, and when two or three hours later the news came in of the murders in our own settlement we were naturally most anxious about you. however, as we could not come over in the dark through the forest, and as mitford pointed out that the house was well prepared for defence, and that you would certainly be on the alert and had the dogs, who would give you notice of any body of men coming, we consented to remain if he would send us home in the canoe at five o'clock in the morning. and now, what is it that happened here yesterday?" "it was nothing very alarming, father. four natives came up and asked for food, which of course i gave them. then they wanted gin, and seeing that i was alone tried to push their way into the house i tried to stop them. the fellow snatched at his club. as he did so marion appeared at the door with a levelled rifle, and the fellows, who had no guns with them, took to their heels. we gave the alarm-signal, and the allens and mr. atherton came over at once, and the grimstones ran in from their work. however, the natives had made their way off, and i do not suppose we shall hear any more of them." "i don't know, wilfrid," his father said. "if it had been only this affair i should not have thought much about it. the natives are often rude and insolent, and these men might not have meant to do more than help themselves to a bottle of spirits, but taken with these accounts from napier and poverty bay, and with the murders yesterday, i think it is very serious." "mr. atherton and the allens promised to come over at ten o'clock, father, to chat the matter over with you, and hear whether you had brought news of any troubles elsewhere. so we shall have quite a council. and now let us have breakfast. we were just going to sit down when we heard your call, and i am sure you must be as hungry as hunters after your three hours on the water." breakfast was scarcely finished when mr. atherton and the allens arrived, and were made acquainted with the news of the murder of the two settlers on the previous day. "it is clear," mr. atherton said, "that the affair here yesterday was not, as i hoped, a mere incident, such as might happen anywhere if a party of ruffianly fellows arrived at a lonely house which they thought they could rob with impunity. this sad business you tell us of shows that there is a general movement among the natives, the result, i suppose, of the arrival of some emissary from the hau-haus. it is an awkward business. what is mr. mitford's opinion on the subject?" "he thinks it will be well that all settlers on the river capable of bearing arms should be enrolled as a volunteer corps, and be in readiness to turn out at a moment's notice. he is of opinion that all those whose farms lie at a distance from the main body should drive in their animals and bring in such goods as they can carry to his station, as one of the most central. huts could be got up there, and the animals all kept at night in his large stockaded yard. in case the natives seem inclined to make a regular attack the women and children could be sent down the river in boats or put on board a ship and sent to napier. fortunately, there is seldom a week without a craft of some sort putting into the river." "there is no doubt that this would be the safest plan," mr. atherton said, "but it would be a serious thing for the settlers to abandon their crops and houses to the natives unless it was certain that the danger was very great." "that is my opinion," mr. renshaw said. "i am certainly not disposed to have the results of our labour destroyed without a struggle." wilfrid looked alike surprised and pleased. "i am glad to hear you say so, father. it would be an awful nuisance and loss to have all our crops destroyed and our house burnt down, and to have to begin the whole thing over again. i don't see what would have been the use of getting everything ready for defence if we are all to run away directly there is danger; but i think it would be a good thing to send the animals down to mr. mitford's, as he is good enough to offer to take them. we might send down the three natives to look after them, as of course they will have to go out to graze in the daytime, and keep jack here. i do not know about the other men, and one doesn't seem able to trust the natives in the slightest; but i feel sure of jack, and he would be useful to us in many ways in the house, besides being able to scout in the woods far better than we could do." "i think that you are right, mr. renshaw," mr. atherton said. "i should propose as an addition that the allens here and i make this our head-quarters while the scare lasts. we could run up a light shanty with a few hours' work just behind the house. the allens could go over to their work during the day and return here at night, and i should wander about the woods with my gun as usual. i do not think we need fear any attack in the daytime. if it comes at all it will be at night or at early morning. the natives will know from the men who were here that you are well armed, and will try to catch you napping. we won't be any more trouble to you than we can help, and with the addition of our three guns i think we could defend ourselves against any number of natives. what do you think of my proposal, lads?" the allens said at once that they thought it was an excellent one, if mr. and mrs. renshaw were willing to have the trouble of them. "it will be no trouble at all," mrs. renshaw said, "and will be a very great comfort. with seven men to protect us marion and i shall feel perfectly safe, and it will be in all ways pleasant to have you here with us. i do not see that you need build a hut outside at all. there will be no difficulty in making up beds here and in the kitchen, and then we shall be all together." "but i do not propose that you should cook for us, mrs. renshaw. if we had a hut of our own our boys could do that for us. you see, we are coming up here for our own defence as well as yours." "i should not think of such a thing," mrs. renshaw said decidedly. "there is no more trouble in cooking for nine than there is for six; and, as i have said, it will be a real pleasure to us to have you stopping here." "very well. then in that case, mrs. renshaw, we will accept your invitation. i will bring over my belongings to-day and store them in your loft above, and the allens had better bring over anything they do not want burnt by the natives. i still hope that these outrages are the work of a few ruffians, and that the natives in general will not allow themselves to be persuaded into hostilities against us; still, if the worst comes to the worst, i am convinced that we can hold this house against quite as strong a force as they are likely to bring to attack it. there is one precaution i should advise you to take at once, and that is to lay in a store of water. i daresay you have got some empty molasses and pork casks, that is if you do not burn them as soon as you empty them. if not we must set to work and make a strong wooden tank. in case we were really besieged, it would be fatal to us if we were caught without a supply of water." fortunately there were three or four empty casks. these were taken down to the river and thoroughly washed, filled with water and rolled up to the house. while this was being done, wilfrid, with the grimstones and the natives, had gone out and driven in all the animals from the clearings, and as soon as they were brought in wilfrid with the natives started to drive them to mr. mitford's. mr. atherton went over to his hut, and before night his two natives had brought over all his most valuable property, and the next day his hut was completely stripped. the allens only brought over a few things. their furniture was rough and heavy, and they contented themselves by carrying it out into the forest near and hiding it in the undergrowth. wilfrid returned to the glade in the evening. he said that many of the settlers had come in, and were erecting shelters of hides, canvas, and wood near mr. mitford's house. the men were all being enrolled. officers had been appointed, and the natives were likely to meet with a stout resistance if they ventured on hostilities. mrs. mitford had sent an earnest invitation to mrs. renshaw and marion to take up their abode with her. mr. mitford had approved of their intention of holding the house. he knew its capabilities of defence and thought that, unless taken by surprise, they would be able to hold it. "it will be a sort of outpost for the colony," he said, "and will add to our safety; for if any strong body of natives were approaching they would probably attack you before coming on here. the instant we hear that you are attacked we will come up to aid you. we shall be able to muster in all something like fifty mounted men--a strength sufficient to meet any number of natives likely to assemble in these parts." chapter xiii. the attack on the glade. for three days things went on quietly at the glade. the first thing in the morning jack went out with two of the dogs and scouted in the bush. as soon as he returned with the news that he could find no signs of natives the household broke up. the allens went through the bush to their clearing and continued their work of felling trees. mr. atherton sauntered off with his two dogs into the forest in search of plants. wilfrid and the grimstones pursued their work of digging and planting in the upper part of the glade. jack and the two dogs were on watch round the house. mr. renshaw worked at his maori vocabulary, and his wife and daughter carried on the business of the house. at night two of the dogs were chained up outside; the other two slept in the kitchen, while jack was allowed to sleep up in the loft. at daybreak on the fourth day the party were awoke by a growl from one of the dogs outside. each of the occupants of the house had been allotted his post, and in a minute all were standing, rifle in hand, at the windows they were to guard. mr. atherton opened the front door and went out, followed by jack. it was just getting light enough to make out objects in the clearing. everything seemed quiet. "what is it, ponto?" he said to his dog, who was standing with his eyes fixed upon the bush to the right, his ears pricked and his hair bristling. "what do you hear, old fellow?" the dog uttered another deep growl. a moment later there was a loud yell. a number of dark figures leapt from the edge of the bush and ran towards the house. they had made out mr. atherton's figure, and knew that their hope of surprising the place was at an end. mr. atherton levelled his rifle and fired, and one of the natives fell dead. then stooping he quietly unfastened the dog's chain from his collar, telling jack to do the same to the other dog, "come into the house, sir," he ordered; "it's no use your being here to be shot." his shot had been answered by a dozen rifles, but fired in haste as the men were running none of the bullets struck him. four shots were fired almost simultaneously from the windows looking towards the bush, and three more natives fell. this proof of the accuracy of the defenders' shooting staggered the maoris and they paused for a moment, then, moved by the exhortations of their chief, they again rushed forward. the whole of the defenders were now gathered at the windows facing them, and seven shots were fired in quick succession. three natives fell dead. four others were wounded, two so seriously that they had to be carried off by their comrades, who at once ran back to the bush, and from its edge opened a straggling fire against the house. the shutters that had been thrown open at the two windows were at once closed. "this is what i call beating them off handsomely," mr. atherton said. "now you see the advantage, wilfrid, of the pains you have taken to learn to shoot straight. there have been only eleven shots fired, and i fancy there are at least ten casualties among them. i call that a very pretty average for young hands." "what will they do next, do you think?" mr. renshaw asked. "they will not try another open attack, i fancy. we may expect them to try to work round us. jack, do you go to the other side of the house and keep a sharp look-out on the bush there. wilfrid, you take post at the windows we fired from, and peep out from time to time through the loopholes in the shutters. between times keep yourself out of the line of fire. the betting is a thousand to one against a bullet coming through, still there is no use in running any risk if it can be avoided. jim allen, you and i will take up our place at the back of the house; they may try to work up among the crops. in fact, i expect that is the course they will take unless they have had enough of it already. bob grimstone, you keep watch at one of the front windows. i don't think there is much chance of attack from that side, but it is as well to keep a look-out. some of them may attempt to cross to the opposite bush, keeping down by the river. the other three guns will be in reserve." "don't you think they are likely to go away now that they have suffered so much loss?" mrs. renshaw asked. "no, i cannot say i think so, mrs. renshaw. the maoris, from what i have heard, always try to get revenge for the death of a kinsman or fellow-tribesman. of course it depends how many of them there are. i should judge that there were about thirty showed themselves. if that is all there are of them i should say they would not attack again at present. they must know by our firing that there are seven or eight of us here. but i should not rely altogether even upon that, for the natives regard themselves as fully a match, man for man, with the whites, and in their fights with our troops we were often greatly superior in numbers. still, it is one thing to defend a strong pah and another to attack resolute men snugly sheltered behind bullet-proof logs. they may try again, but if there are any more of their people within reasonable distance i fancy they will be more likely to send for them and keep a sharp watch round us until they come up. now i will go to my post." for a quarter of an hour the two watchers at the back of the house saw no signs of life. then mr. atherton said: "there is a movement among that corn, jim. do you see, there--just in a line with that big tree at the other end of the clearing? it is moving in several places. call your brother and young grimstone to this side of the house, and do you all take steady aim at these moving patches. i will fire first. i think i can pretty well mark the spot where one of the fellows is making his way down. if i hit him the others are likely enough to start up. then will be your time for taking a shot at them." as soon as the others were in position and ready mr. atherton fired. there was a yell. a dark figure sprang up, stood for an instant, and then fell back. almost at the same instant half a dozen others leapt to their feet and dashed away. three rifles were fired. two of the natives fell, but one almost immediately rose again and followed the others. "you ought to have done better than that at a hundred yards," mr. atherton said. "you two lads ought to have practised a little more steadily than you have. it was grimstone brought down that man. his rifle went off a second before yours, and the man was falling when you fired. the great thing in firing at natives is that every shot should tell. it is the certainty of the thing that scares them. if they hear bullets singing about with only occasionally a man dropping they gain confidence, but a slow, steady fire with every shot telling shakes their nerves, and makes them very careful of showing themselves." half an hour later jack reported he could see figures moving in the bush on his side, and soon afterwards a fire was opened on the hut from that direction. "they have worked round the end of the clearing," mr. atherton said. "now it is our turn to begin to fire. we have let them have their own way long enough, and there is plenty of light now, and i think we shall soon be able to put a stop to this game. now, wilfrid, do you with one of the grimstones take up your place at the loopholes at that end of the house, and i with the other will take up mine on the right. keep a sharp look-out, and do not throw away a shot if you can help it. as we have not answered their fire they have probably got careless, and are sure to expose themselves as they stand up to fire. now, bob," he went on, as he took his place at the loophole, "i will take the first who shows himself. i do not think you would miss, but i am sure that i shall not, and it is important not to make a mistake the first time." half a minute later a native showed his head and shoulders over a bush as he rose to fire. before he could raise his gun to his shoulder he fell with a bullet through his head from mr. atherton's unerring rifle. that gentleman quietly reloaded. "you had better take the next again, sir," bob grimstone said quietly. "i do not suppose i should miss, but i might do. i do not reckon on hitting a small mark more than eight out of twelve times." it was nearly four minutes before another native showed himself. "i think, sir, there is one standing behind that big tree twenty yards in the bush. i thought i saw something move behind it just now." "i will watch it, bob," mr. atherton said, raising his rifle to his shoulder and looking along it through the loophole. two minutes passed, and then a head and shoulder appeared from behind the tree. instantaneously mr. atherton's rifle cracked, and the native fell forward, his gun going off as he did so. "we need not stand here any longer," mr. atherton said quietly, "there will be no more shooting from that side for some time." mr. atherton went to the other end of the house. "how are you getting on, wilfrid?" "we have had three shots. i fired twice and bill once. i think i missed once altogether, the other time the native went down. bill wounded his man--hit him in the shoulder, i think. they haven't fired since." "then you can put down your guns for the present. mrs. renshaw has just told me that breakfast is ready." mrs. renshaw and marion had indeed gone quietly about the work of preparing breakfast for their defenders. "so you are a non-combatant this morning, miss marion?" mr. atherton said as he took his place with the rest of the party, with the exception of the grimstones, who were placed on the watch, at the table. "yes," the girl replied; "if i thought there were any danger of the natives fighting their way into the house, of course i should do my best to help defend it; but i do not think that there is the least fear of such a thing, so i am quite content to leave it to you. it does not seem to me that a woman has any business to fight unless absolutely driven to do so in defence of her life. if the natives really do come on and get up close to the house, i think that i ought to help to keep them out; but it is a dreadful thing to have to shoot anyone--at least it seems so to me." "it is not a pleasant thing when considered in cold blood; but when men go out of their way to take one's life, i do not feel the slightest compunction myself in taking theirs. these natives have no cause of complaint whatever against us. they have assembled and attacked the settlement in a treacherous manner, and without the slightest warning of their intentions. their intention is to slay man, woman, and child without mercy, and i therefore regard them as human tigers, and no more deserving of pity. at the same time i can quite enter into your feelings, and think you are perfectly right not to take any active part in the affair unless we are pressed by the savages. then, of course, you would be not only justified, but it would, i think, be your absolute duty to do your best to defend the place." "do you think that it is all over now, mr. atherton?" mrs. renshaw asked. "we regard you as our commanding officer, for you are the only one here who ever saw a shot fired in anger before our voyage out, and your experience is invaluable to us now. indeed, both my husband and myself feel that it is to your suggestion that we should put up the strong shutters and doors that we owe the lives of our children; for had it not been for that, those men who came first might have taken the house when they found them alone in it." "i cannot accept your thanks for that, mrs. renshaw. it may be if this goes on that the shutters will be found of the greatest use, and indeed they have probably stopped a good many balls from coming in and so saved some of our lives, but on the first occasion wilfrid and your daughter owed their lives to their being prepared and armed, while the natives relying upon surprising them had left their guns in the wood. the shutters were not closed until after they made off, and had they not been there those four natives could never have passed across the clearing and reached the house under the fire of two cool and steady marksmen. "as to your first question, whether it is all over, it depends entirely upon whether the party who attacked us are the main force of the natives. if so, i do not think they will renew the attack at present. they have suffered terribly, and know now that it is almost certain death for any of them to show themselves within range of our guns. they have lost fourteen or fifteen men, and i do not think they numbered above forty at first. but if they are only a detached party, and a main body of the tribe is making an attack elsewhere, perhaps upon the settlers at mitford's, a messenger will by this time have been despatched to them, and we may all have a much more serious attack to encounter to-night or to-morrow morning. "i have no idea what tribe these fellows belong to; but there are few of the tribes that cannot put five hundred men on the field, while some can put five times that number. so, you see, we are entirely in the dark. of course things will depend a good deal as to how the main body, if there is a main body, has fared. if they have been, as i feel sure they will be if they venture to attack mitford's place, roughly handled, the whole body may return home. the natives have proved themselves through the war admirable in defence; but they have by no means distinguished themselves in the attack, and have not, so far as i remember, succeeded in a single instance in capturing a position stoutly held. "it is one thing to fight behind strong palisades, defended by interior works skilfully laid out, and quite another to advance across the open to assault a defended position; and my belief is that, if they are beaten at mitford's as well as here, we shall hear no more of them at present. mind, i do not say that after this i think that it would be safe to continue to live in an outlying station like this until matters have again settled down in this part of the island. no doubt, as soon as the news is known at napier and wellington a force will be sent here, or perhaps to poverty bay, which is only some twenty miles higher up the coast, and is, i think, from what i hear, better suited as the base of operations than this river would be. "this force will no doubt make an expedition inland to punish the tribes connected with this affair, for it is of course most important to let the natives on this side of the island see that they cannot attack our settlements with impunity. after that is done it will no doubt be safe to recommence operations here; but at present i fear you will find it necessary for a time to abandon the place, and either take up your abode at the mitfords', or go down to napier or wellington. this will, of course, involve the loss of the crops you have planted, and possibly of your house; but as you have saved all your animals, the loss will be comparatively small and easily repaired." "whether large or small," mr. renshaw said, "we cannot hesitate over it. it will, as you say, be out of the question to live here exposed at any instant to attack, and never knowing what the day or night may bring forth. the house has not cost above a hundred pounds, and we must put up with that loss. we are fortunately in a very much better position than most settlers in having a reserve to fall back upon, so there will be no hesitation on my part in taking this step. the furniture is worth more than the hut, but i suppose that must go too." "not necessarily, mr. renshaw. we cannot get away now; for although we can defend ourselves well enough here, we could not make our way down through the woods to mitford's without great risks. they are accustomed to bush fighting, and as they are still five to one against us, it would be a very serious matter to try to fight our way down. i think that we have no choice but to remain where we are until we are either relieved or are perfectly certain that they have made off. in either case we should then have ample time to make our preparations for retiring, and could strip the house and send everything down in boats or bullock-carts, and might even get up the potatoes, and cut such of the crops as are ripe, or nearly ripe, and send them down also. "the corps that has been got up among the settlers will be sure to join in the expedition for the punishment of these scoundrels, and indeed it is most probable that all able-bodied settlers will be called out. in any case i think i shall chip in, as the americans say. i shall have an opportunity of going into little explored tracts in the interior and adding to my collections; and to tell you the truth, i feel anxious to take a part in revenging the massacres that these treacherous natives have committed. unless they get a sharp lesson the lives of the settlers in all the outlying districts in the colony will be unsafe." wilfrid glanced at mr. atherton and nodded, to intimate that he should be willing and ready to join in such an expedition; but he thought it better to say nothing at present. the two allens, however, said at once that if obliged to quit their clearing they would join one of the irregular corps for the defence of the colony. "we shall get pay and rations," james allen said, "and that will keep us going until things get settled; and i should certainly like to lend a hand in punishing these treacherous natives. it is horrible to think of their stealing upon defenceless people at night and murdering men, women, and children. it is as bad as the sepoy mutiny. and now the troops have been almost all withdrawn, and the colony has been left to shift for itself, i think it is no more than the duty of all who have no special ties to aid in the defence against these fanatical hau-haus." "very well, then, james; we will march side by side, and when you see me give out you shall carry me." "that would be worse than fighting the natives," james allen replied with a laugh. "if i were you, mr. atherton, i should engage ten natives to accompany me with poles and a hammock." "that is not a bad idea," mr. atherton said calmly, "and possibly i may adopt it; but in that case i shall have to go as a free lance, for i fear it would scarcely be conducive to military discipline to see one of an armed band carried along in the ranks." none would have thought from the cheerful tone of the conversation that the party were beleaguered by a bloodthirsty enemy. but mr. atherton purposely gave a lively tone to the conversation to keep up their spirits. he felt, as he expressed himself, perfectly confident that they could beat off any attack in the daytime; but he knew that if their assailants were largely reinforced, and the place attacked by night, the position would be a very serious one. even then he was convinced that the assailants would not be able to force their way in, but they would assuredly try to fire the house; and although the solid logs would be difficult to ignite, the match-board covering and the roof would both readily catch fire. however, his hope lay in preventing the natives from firing it, as it would be difficult in the extreme to bring up burning branches under the fire of the defenders. "it is a pity now, wilfrid," he said to the lad after breakfast was over, and they had taken up their place together at one of the windows, "that we did not dissuade your father from putting that boarding to the logs. you did not intend to have it at first, and now it adds a good deal to our danger. the only thing i am afraid of is fire, though i own i do not think that there is much chance of any of them getting up with a lighted brand under the fire of our rifles. if the natives were not in the bush at the present moment, i should say that the best thing by far to do would be for all hands to set to work to tear off the match-boarding, and to get down the whole of the covering of the roof; they could not well hurt us then." "shall we do it at once, mr. atherton?" "they would shoot us down at their leisure, wilfrid. no, that is not to be thought of. we must run the risk of fire now; and i feel, as i said, pretty confident that we are too good shots to let men with fire get up to the walls. i wish we could send down word to mitford's that we are besieged here. of course, if he is attacked himself he could not help us, but if he is not i know he would come out at once with a strong party to our relief. i wonder whether that native boy of yours would try to carry a message. none of us would have a chance of getting through, but these fellows can crawl like snakes; and by working up through the crops to the upper end of the glade he might gain the bush unobserved." "i will ask him anyhow," wilfrid said. jack on being promised a new suit of clothes and a present in money if he would carry a note through to mr. mitford, at once undertook the mission. mr. renshaw, on being told what was arranged, wrote a note stating their position, and jack, divesting himself of the greater portion of his clothes, crept out through the door at the back of the house, and lying down at once began to crawl through the potato patch towards the upper end of the clearing. from the loopholes of the windows the defenders watched his progress. although aware of his approximate position they were soon unable to trace his progress. "he will do," mr. atherton said; "if we, knowing the line he is taking, can see nothing move you may be sure that those fellows in the bush will not be able to make him out. well, we shall have assistance in four or five hours if mitford's hands are free." a quarter of an hour passed and all was still quiet. "he is in the bush by this time," mr. atherton said; "now we can take matters easy." an occasional shot was fired from the bush, and shouts raised which mr. renshaw interpreted to be threats of death and extermination. "they say that all the white men are to be driven into the sea; not one left alive on the island." "well, we shall see about that," mr. atherton said; "they are not getting on very fast at present." as time went on it was only the occasional crack of a gun, accompanied by the thud of a bullet against the logs, that told that the natives were still present. they now never raised themselves to fire, but kept well back in the bush, shifting their position after each shot. time passed somewhat slowly inside, until about four o'clock in the afternoon the sharp crack of a rifle was heard. "there is mitford!" mr. atherton exclaimed, "that is not a maori gun. man the loopholes again! we must prevent any of the fellows on the other side crossing to the assistance of their friends, and give it to the others hot if they are driven out of the shelter of the bush." the rifle shot was speedily followed by others, and then came the deeper report of the maori muskets. english shouts were heard, mingled with the yells of the natives. the fight was evidently sharp, for jack had led the relieving party down upon the rear of the natives engaged in attacking the house from the left. the latter began to fall back, and the defenders of the house presently caught sight of their figures as they flitted from tree to tree. "we must be careful," mr. atherton said, "for every bullet that misses might strike our friends. i think that you had all better reserve your fire till they make a break across the open. you can see by the direction they are firing, and the sound of the rifles, mitford is closing in on both their flanks so as to drive them out of the bush. i can trust myself not to miss, and will pick them off when i see any of them sheltering on this side of the trees. there is a fellow there just going to fire." his rifle cracked, and the native fell among the bushes. this completed the scare of the natives, who had already been much disconcerted at the unexpected attack made upon them. the leader of the party shouted an order, and the whole of them made a sudden rush through the bush down towards the river. three or four fell beneath the rifles of the whites on that side of them, but the rest burst through and continued their course down to the river, and, plunging in, swam to the other side without once giving the defenders of the house the chance of a shot at them. "now we can sally out," mr. renshaw said. the door was opened, and they hurried out just as a party of whites issued from the wood and ran towards the house. "thanks for your speedy aid, mitford!" mr. renshaw exclaimed as he wrung the hand of the settler. "you are heartily welcome, my dear sir. a party was just setting off to see how you had fared when your native boy arrived with your note, and it was a great relief to us to know that you had repulsed their attack with such heavy loss to them; i am afraid that several others have not fared so well. two or three native servants have come in this morning with news of massacres of whole families, they themselves having managed to make their escape in the confusion; and i am afraid that we shall hear of other similar cases. your gallant defence of your station has been of most important service to us all. there is no doubt that it saved us from an attack at our place. there were a good many natives in the bush round us this morning yelling and shouting, but they did not venture on an attack; and i have no doubt they were waiting for the arrival of the party told off to attack your place on their way. do you think that there are any of them still in the bush on the other side?" "i should hardly think so," mr. atherton replied. "there must have been fully half of them in the party you attacked, and the others are hardly likely to have waited after they saw you had defeated their friends; but i think that it would be as well for a party of us to ascertain, for if they are still lurking there some of us may be shot down as we move about outside the house. we are quite strong enough now to venture upon such a step." "i think so too," mr. mitford agreed. "there are ten men beside myself and your party. we had better leave four here, the rest of us will make a dash down to the edge of the bush and then skirmish through it." mr. renshaw, the two grimstones, and one of the settlers were appointed to remain behind to guard the house, and the rest of the party then dashed at full speed across the glade to the edge of the bush. not a shot was fired as they did so, and having once gained the shelter they advanced through the trees. after pushing forward for half a mile they came to the conclusion that the maoris had retreated. many signs were seen of their presence. there were marks of blood here and there, and the bushes were broken down where they had carried off those who had fallen killed or wounded in the bush; the bodies of those who had fallen in the open still remained there. upon the return of the party mr. mitford was informed of the determination that had been arrived at. this met with his cordial approval. "i think, mrs. renshaw," he said, "that the best plan will be for you and your husband and daughter to return at once with me. i will leave a couple of my men here with your garrison, and in the morning will come out with a strong party and three or four bullock drays to fetch in all your portable property. they can make another trip for your potatoes and such of your crops as can be got in. after the sharp lesson the natives have had here they are not likely to venture in this neighbourhood again for some time; and, indeed, now that they find that the whole settlement is aroused and on its guard i doubt whether we shall hear anything more of them at present, and possibly you may, when matters settle down again, find your house just as it is left." mr. and mrs. renshaw agreed to the plan proposed, and in a quarter of an hour the party started, leaving the glade under the protection of the garrison of eight men. the night passed off quietly, and at daybreak all set to work to get up the potatoes and to cut down the crops that were sufficiently ripe. at nine o'clock the waggons arrived, and the furniture and stores were loaded up. by twelve o'clock next day the work in the fields was completed and the waggons again loaded. the house was then locked up and the whole party proceeded to the settlement. they found on their arrival that a strong stockade had been erected near mr. mitford's house, and that rough tents and huts had been got up there for the use of the settlers; the whole of the animals belonging to the various farmers on the river had been driven into the stockaded inclosure behind the house. here it was decided that all the settlers should remain until help arrived from wellington or napier, but in the meantime five and twenty of the younger men were enrolled as a volunteer corps; a mr. purcell, who had served for some years as an officer in the army, being unanimously elected in command. there still remained enough men capable of bearing arms to defend the stockade in case of attack during the absence of the corps. wilfrid and the two allens were among those who enrolled themselves. mr. atherton said that he fully intended to accompany them if possible upon any expedition they might make, but that he should not become a member of the corps. "you may have long marches," he said, "through the bush, or may, when the reinforcements arrive, be called upon to make an expedition into the hill country to punish the natives. i could not possibly keep up with you during a heavy day's marching, so i shall, like hal of the wynd, fight for my own sword. i daresay i shall be there or there about when there is any work to be done, but i must get there in my own way and in my own time. i shall have my own commissariat train. i have had my share of living on next to nothing, and have become somewhat of an epicure, and i know that the sort of rations you are likely to get on a march through a rough country would not suit my constitution. but, as i said before, i hope if there is any fighting done to be somewhere in the neighbourhood." chapter xiv. fresh troubles. three days later a small steamer arrived from napier, bringing a reply to the urgent request that had been sent for the despatch of a body of constabulary for the protection of the settlers. sir donald m'lean, the superintendent of the province, sent word that this was impossible at present, as the alarming news had just been received that the notorious chief te kooti, who had been captured and imprisoned at chatham island, had effected his escape with the whole of the natives confined in the island, had captured a schooner, and had, it was reported, landed near poverty bay. "it is probable," sir donald wrote, "that it is the news of his landing which has excited one of the tribes of the neighbourhood to make an attack upon you. a strong expedition will be fitted out, and we shall doubtless have to supply a contingent. i can only advise you to organize yourselves into a militia, and to stand for the present on the defensive. as soon as operations begin from poverty bay you will be relieved from all further danger, as the attention of the hostile tribes will be fully occupied in that direction." hitherto the province of hawke bay had been comparatively free from the troubles that had so long disturbed auckland, taranaki, and the northern portion of wellington. only one rising had taken place, and this had been so promptly crushed that the tribes had since remained perfectly quiet. in october a party of a hundred fighting men had suddenly appeared near the meanee village. their principal chief had hitherto borne a very high character, and had been employed by the government to improve the mail road between napier and taupo. colonel whitmore, who was in command of the colonial forces--for the regular troops had now been almost entirely withdrawn from the island--had just returned from punishing some natives who had committed massacres higher up on the coast, and was, fortunately, at napier; he at once despatched a company of colonists under major fraser, with thirty or forty friendly natives, to hold the natives in check. just as they had been sent off the news came that another and more numerous body of hau-haus were advancing by way of petane to attack napier. major fraser and his company were sent off to check these, while colonel whitmore, with one hundred and eighty of the colonial militia, marched against the smaller force, and m'lean, with two hundred friendly natives, established himself in the rear of the village they occupied. an officer was sent in to summon them to surrender, and as no answer could be obtained from them the colonists advanced. the enemy fought with resolution, but the colonists opened a cross-fire upon them, and after fighting for some time the natives were driven out of their cover. finding no mode of retreat open to them they laid down their arms, some who endeavoured to escape being cut off and also captured. the native loss was twenty-three killed and twenty-eight wounded--many of them mortally; forty-four taken prisoners. only two or three of the whole party escaped. upon the same day major fraser's little force attacked the other party of hau-haus, killed their chief with twelve of his followers, and put the rest to flight. from that time peace had been unbroken in hawke bay; but there had been several outbreaks at poverty bay, which lay just north of the province, and massacres at opotaki and other places further to the north, and almost continuous fighting in the northern districts of wellington. the news of te kooti's escape and of his landing at poverty bay naturally caused considerable alarm among the settlers, but hopes were entertained that the whites at poverty bay, aided by the friendly natives, would be able to recapture te kooti and his followers before they could do any harm. the next day a small vessel came down from poverty bay with a message from major biggs, who commanded at that settlement, to ask for assistance if it could be spared him. a consultation was held and it was agreed that the best plan of defending their own settlement was to aid in the recapture of te kooti, and that the little force of twenty men should at once go up to aid the settlers under major biggs. accordingly they embarked without delay, mr. atherton making a separate bargain with the captain of the craft for his passage, and the next morning they arrived in poverty bay. major biggs had, as soon as the news reached him, raised a force of a hundred europeans and natives. he found te kooti's party, a hundred and ninety strong, holding a very strong position near the sea, and sent a chief to them to say that if they would lay down their arms he would try and smooth matters over with government. a defiant answer was returned, and major biggs gave orders to commence the attack. but the natives, who formed the bulk of his force, refused to move, saying that the hau-haus were too numerous and too strongly posted. under these circumstances an attack was impossible, for had the little body of whites been defeated the whole settlement would have been open to ravage and destruction. during the night te kooti and his men started for the interior, carrying with them all the stores and provisions they had taken from the schooner. when it was found they had escaped major biggs ordered mr. skipwith to follow with some friendly natives, pressing on their rear until he ascertained their line of retreat, when he was to cut across country and join the main body who were to march to paparatu, a point which te kooti would in all probability pass in his retreat. the arrival of the coaster with the little band from the mohaka river was hailed with joy by the poverty bay settlers. they arrived just in time to join major biggs, and raised his force to fifty white men, who, with thirty maoris, started for paparatu and arrived there on the following morning. the europeans were commanded by captains westrupp and wilson. in the afternoon mr. atherton arrived with a party of four natives whom he had hired to carry his store of provisions, ammunition, and baggage. "so i am in plenty of time," he said when he came up. "i could not bring myself to undertake a night march, but as those fellows have got to lug all the stores they have captured over the mountains i felt pretty sure that i should be in time." "i am glad you are in time, mr. atherton," wilfrid said. "the assistance of your rifle is not to be despised. the sooner the natives come now the better, for we have only brought four days' provisions in our haversacks. i hear that a reserve force is to come up in two days with rations and ammunition; but one can never calculate upon these natives." the camp was pitched in a hollow to avoid the observation of the enemy, but it was proposed to fight at a point a mile distant, in a position commanding the spur of the hill, up which the natives must advance after crossing a ford on the arai river. four days passed and there was no news of the convoy with the provisions, and the supply in camp was almost exhausted. that evening major biggs started to bring up the supplies with all speed, as otherwise starvation would compel the force to retreat. the same day mr. skipwith had arrived with news that te kooti was undoubtedly marching on paparatu, but was making slow progress owing to the heavy loads his men were carrying. the fifth day passed slowly. the men being altogether without food mr. atherton divided his small stock of provisions and wine among them, and then taking his rifle went out among the hills, accompanied by two of his natives. late in the evening he returned, the natives bearing an old boar which he had shot. this was a great piece of luck, for the island contained no wild animals fit for eating, and the boar had probably escaped from some settler's farm or native clearing when young and taken to the woods. it was at once cut up and divided among the hungry men. the next day mr. skipwith, with two natives, went out to reconnoitre, and soon returned at full speed, saying that the natives were crossing the river. captain wilson, with twenty men, took possession of a hill on the right flank--an almost impregnable position, while captain westrupp, with the main body, marched to support the picket which had been placed on the position which it had been arranged they should occupy; but before they could arrive there te kooti, with overwhelming numbers, had driven the picket from the ground and occupied the hill. "this is going to be an awkward business, wilfrid," mr. atherton said. "we have only thirty rounds of ammunition a man, and we have had nothing to eat for the last forty-eight hours but a mouthful of meat. we have suffered the natives to take the position we fixed on. we are outnumbered three to one, and there are not ten men in the force who have had any experience in fighting. if the worst comes to the worst, wilfrid, do you and the allens take to the bush. mind, it is no use trying to run from the natives. if the men were all like our party the other day we could keep these fellows at bay for any time; but they are most of them young hands. they will blaze away their ammunition, and may be seized with a panic. i shall keep close to you, and if things do go badly we will keep together and sell our lives dearly." "we must retake that place if possible, lads," captain westrupp said at that moment. "spread out in skirmishing order and take advantage of any cover you can find, but let there be no stopping or lagging behind. we must all get up there together and carry it with a rush." there was no time lost. the men spread out, and with a cheer started up the hill. they were received with a storm of bullets; but the natives from their eminence fired high, and without suffering loss they reached a small ridge near the summit, about twelve yards from the enemy, and separated from them by a narrow gully. here they threw themselves down, and their fire at once caused the hau-haus to throw themselves down among the bushes on their side of the gully. the position of the colonists was a fairly strong one. on their right flank the ground was open, with a few scattered bushes here and there, but the left was covered by a steep ravine, which fell away sharply. the hau-haus kept up a heavy fire, to which the colonists replied but seldom, their officer continually impressing upon them the necessity for husbanding their ammunition. mr. atherton had arrived breathless in the rear of the party, and had thrown himself down by wilfrid's side, the two allens lying next in order. for some minutes mr. atherton did not speak, but lay panting heavily. "this is a nice preparation for shooting," he said presently. "however, i suppose my hand will steady itself after a bit. i have seen a fellow's head show under that bush there twice, and each time his bullet came just over our heads. i will have a talk with him as soon as i get my wind back again. this is not a bad position after all, providing they don't work round to our right." ten minutes later wilfrid, who had his eyes fixed on a bush from which four or five shots had been fired, waiting for another puff of smoke to indicate the exact position in which the man was lying, heard the sharp report of mr. atherton's rifle. "you have got him, i suppose?" "of course, lad; there is one less of the yelling rascals to deal with. i wish we could see biggs and his people coming along the road behind. if we could get a square meal all round and a good supply of ammunition i think we should be able to turn the tables on these fellows. the men are all fighting very steadily, and are husbanding their ammunition better than i expected to see them do." the fight went on for four hours. then a number of the hau-haus leapt to their feet and made a rush towards the settlers, but the volley they received proved too much for them. several fell, and the rest bolted back into shelter. again and again this was tried, but each time without success. at three in the afternoon some men were seen coming along the road behind towards the deserted camp. captain westrupp at once wrote a note and sent it down by one of the men, but to the disappointment of the settlers he soon returned with the news that the new arrivals consisted of only nine maoris carrying rations. they had opened the rum bottles on their way, and most of them were excessively drunk. two of them who were sufficiently sober came up to help in the defence, but one was shot dead almost immediately, one of the settlers being killed and many wounded more or less severely. just as evening was coming on the force was startled by hearing a hau-hau bugle in their rear, and presently made out a party of the enemy moving towards the camp through the broken ground on the left rear. it was now evident that either the enemy must be driven off the hill in front or the party must retire to a position on the hill behind the camp. captain westrupp determined to try the former alternative first. calling upon the men to follow him, he dashed across the gully and up on to the crest held by the maoris. the men followed him gallantly; but the fire from the maoris hidden among the bushes was so heavy that they were forced to fall back again, seven more of their number being wounded. they now retired in good order down to the camp and up the hill behind it, and were here joined by captain wilson with his twenty men. it was now determined to throw up a sort of intrenchment and hold this position until help came; but the settlers, who had hitherto fought well, were dispirited by their want of success, and by the non-arrival of the reinforcement, and were weak with their long fast. as soon as it became dark they began to steal off and to make their way back towards their homes, and in an hour half the force had retreated. the officers held a council. it was evident the position could not long be held, and that want of food and ammunition would compel a retreat in the morning. it was therefore decided to fall back under cover of the darkness. the chief of the friendly natives, who had behaved admirably through the fight, offered to guide the party across the country. the officers were obliged to leave their horses, and the party of forty half-starved men, of whom a fourth were wounded--two so severely that it was necessary to carry them--set out. it was a terrible march for the exhausted men, up the bed of a mountain creek, often waist-deep in water, and over steep fern-covered hills, until, just as day was breaking, they reached an out-station. here they managed to get two sheep, and just as they had cooked and eaten these colonel whitmore, the commander of the colonial forces, arrived with thirty volunteers from napier, who had reached the bay on the previous day. he at once paraded the men, thanked them for their behaviour on the previous day, and warned them to be ready to start in pursuit of the enemy at once. one of the settlers, acting as spokesman for the rest, stepped forward, pointed out that they had been fighting without intermission for twenty-four hours, that they had been for the last forty-eight hours almost without food, and that it was impossible for them to set out on a fresh march until they had taken some rest. colonel whitmore was a hot-tempered man, and expressed himself so strongly that he caused deep offence among the settlers. they remained firm in their determination not to move until the following day, and the forward movement was therefore necessarily abandoned. on the day previous to the fight lieutenant gascoigne had been despatched by major biggs to te wairoa with despatches for mr. deighton, who commanded at that station, warning him to muster all the force at his disposal, and prepare to intercept te kooti at the waihau lakes in case he should fight his way through captain westrupp's force. orders were sent to the friendly mahia tribe to muster, and a hundred men at once assembled; but as they had only four rounds of ammunition apiece, nothing could be done until three casks of ammunition were obtained from some of the wairoa chiefs. two days were lost in consequence, and this gave time to te kooti; they then started--eighteen european volunteers and eighty natives; a larger body of natives preparing to follow as soon as possible. after being met by messengers with several contradictory orders, they arrived at waihau, and just before dark te kooti was seen crossing the hills towards them with his whole force. captain richardson determined to fight them in the position he occupied, but the native chief, with sixty of his followers, at once bolted. captain richardson was therefore obliged with the remainder to fall back, and, unfortunately, in the retreat one of the natives fell; his gun went off and, bursting, injured his hand. this was considered by the natives a most unfortunate omen, and dissipated what little courage remained in the wairoa tribe. at eleven o'clock next morning the enemy advanced and the action began; but the wairoa chief, with fifty of his men, again bolted at the first shot. captain richardson with the remainder held the position until four in the afternoon, when the ammunition being almost exhausted, he retired quietly. the force fell back to wairoa, where it was reorganized and increased to two hundred men. in the meantime colonel whitmore had been toiling on over a terrible country in te kooti's rear, having with him in all about two hundred men, as he had been joined by major fraser with fifty of the no. division armed constabulary. but when they arrived at the boundary of the poverty bay district the settlers belonging to it, who had not recovered from their indignation at colonel whitmore's unfortunate remarks, refused to go further, saying that the militia regulations only obliged them to defend their own district. colonel whitmore, therefore, with a hundred and thirty men, of whom but a handful were whites, marched on to attack two hundred and twenty hau-haus posted in a very strong position in the gorge of a river. twelve of the little party from the mohaka river still remained with the column, one had been killed, four wounded, while five had remained behind completely knocked up by the fatigues they had encountered. mr. atherton had not gone on with them after the arrival of colonel whitmore. "it is of no use, my dear lad," he said to wilfrid. "i know colonel whitmore well by reputation, and the way in which he blew us up this morning because, exhausted as we were, we were physically unable to set out for a fresh march, confirms what i have heard of him. he is a most gallant officer, and is capable of undergoing the greatest fatigue and hardships, and is of opinion that everyone else is as tireless and energetic as he is. he will drive you along over mountain, through rivers, with food or without food, until you come up to te kooti, and then he will fight, regardless of odds or position, or anything else. it isn't the fighting i object to; but i never could keep up with the column on such a march. it would be a physical impossibility, and i am not going to attempt it. i shall take a week to recover from my fatigues of last night, and shall go down and stay quietly at the settlement. if te kooti takes it into his head to come down there, i shall have great pleasure in doing my best towards putting a stop to his rampaging over the country. if he does not come down i shall, as they say, await developments, and shall find plenty to do in the way of botanizing." mr. atherton had not exaggerated the fatigues and hardships that the force would be called upon to undergo, and they were worn out and exhausted when at last they came upon the track of the hau-haus. when they were resting for a short halt captain carr, late r.a., who was with the force as a volunteer, reconnoitred a short distance ahead and found the enemy's fire still burning. the news infused fresh life into the tired and hungry men, and they again went forward. the track led up the bed of a river which ran between low, steep cliffs impossible to climb, and the men had to advance in single file. after marching for some distance they reached a bend in the river, where a narrow track ran through a break in the cliff and up the spur of a hill. the advanced guard, consisting of six men, led by captain carr, were within fifty yards of this point, when a heavy fire was opened upon them. just where they were the river bank was sufficiently low to enable them to climb it and take cover in the thick scrub above, whence they replied vigorously to the hau-haus, who were within a few yards of them. in the meantime the enemy had opened fire from the base of the hill at the river bend upon the main body, who, standing in single file in the river, were unable to reply or to scale the steep bank and take covering in the scrub. colonel whitmore and captain tuke tried to lead the men up to charge, but this could only be done in single file, and the fire of the enemy was so hot that those who attempted this were killed or wounded, captain tuke being severely hurt. the rest found what shelter they could among the boulders in the river bed, and remained here until the advanced guard fell back, hard pressed by the enemy, and reported the death of captain carr and mr. canning, another volunteer. the natives now pressed through the scrub above the cliffs to cut off the retreat. the friendly natives, who were well behind, were ordered to scale the cliff then, and hold the enemy in check. one of them was wounded, and the rest hastily retreated down the river; the constabulary and settlers, altogether about fifty strong, fell back to an island about half a mile to the rear, and here calmly awaited the attack of the enemy. these, however, drew off without disturbing them, disheartened by the fact that te kooti had received a wound in the foot, and the troops then retired. only a few of the strongest men reached the camp that night; the rest, knocked up by want of food and fatigue, lay down in the pouring rain and did not get in until the following morning. the result of this fight was most unfortunate. even colonel whitmore saw that, with the force at his disposal, nothing could be done against te kooti, who was daily becoming more powerful, and was being joined by the tribes in the vicinity. he believed that te kooti would carry out his expressed intention of marching north to waikato, and after collecting there all the tribes of the island, march against auckland. thinking, therefore, that poverty bay was not likely to be disturbed, he left the settlement and went round by sea to auckland to confer with government as to the steps to be taken to raise a force capable of coping with what appeared to be the greatest danger that had as yet threatened the island. te kooti did not, however, move north, but remained in his camp near the scene of the fight from the th of august to the th of october, sending messages all over the island with the news of the defeat he had inflicted upon the whites, and proclaiming himself the saviour of the maori people. from the position he occupied, about equidistant from the settlements at wairoa and poverty bay, he was able to attack either by a sudden march of two or three days, and yet there was no great uneasiness among the settlers. the force that had operated against te kooti had been disbanded, the napier volunteers had returned, the constabulary withdrawn, and the party of settlers from the mohaka river had returned home. wilfrid renshaw had not gone with them. he had been shot through the leg in the fight in the river, and had been carried down to the settlement. here mr. atherton, who was lodging in one of the settler's houses, had taken charge of him and nursed him assiduously. unfortunately the effect of the wound was aggravated by the exhaustion caused by fatigue and insufficient food, and for weeks the lad lay in a state of prostration, wasted by a low fever which at one time seemed as if it would carry him off. it was not until the middle of october that matters took a turn, and he began slowly to mend. for the last three weeks his mother had been by his bedside. for some time mr. atherton in his letters had made light of the wound, but when the lad's condition became very serious he had written to mrs. renshaw saying that he thought she had better come herself to help in the nursing, as wilfrid was now suffering from a sharp attack of fever brought on by his hardships. mrs. renshaw, on her arrival, was dismayed at the state in which she found her son. she agreed, however, that it was best not to alarm them in her letters home. the events on the attack of the settlement had much shaken mr. renshaw, and he was, when she left him, in a nervous and excited state. she saw that wilfrid would need every moment of her time, and that were her husband to come it would probably do him harm and seriously interfere with her own usefulness. he was, when she left, on the point of returning to the farm with marion, as there had been no further renewal of troubles in the settlement. it had been arranged that the two allens should take up their residence at the glade, and that four men belonging to a small force that had been raised among the friendly natives should also be stationed there. this would, it was thought, render it quite safe against sudden attack. mr. renshaw was looking eagerly forward to being at home again, and his wife thought that the necessity of superintending the operations at the farm would soothe his nerves and restore him to health. she, therefore, in her letters made the best of things, although admitting that wilfrid was prostrated by a sort of low fever, and needed care and nursing. at the end of another fortnight wilfrid was enabled to sit up and take an interest in what was going on around him. the house was the property of a settler named sampson, and had been erected by a predecessor of the farmer; it was a good deal larger than he required, though its capacity was now taxed to the utmost by the addition of three lodgers to his family. "how are things going on, mr. atherton?" wilfrid asked one day when his mother was not present. "people here seem to think that they are going on very well, wilfrid." "but you do not think so, mr. atherton?" the lad asked, struck by the dry tone in which the answer was given. "no, wilfrid, i cannot say i do. it seems to me that the people here are living in a fool's paradise; and as for major biggs i regard him as an obstinate fool." "how is that?" wilfrid asked, amused at his friend's vehemence. "well, wilfrid, as far as i can see there is nothing in the world to prevent te kooti coming down and cutting all our throats whenever he pleases." "you don't say so, mr. atherton!" "i do, indeed; it is known that he has sent messages down to the natives here to remain apparently loyal, get what arms they can from the whites, and prepare to join him. i will say for biggs that he has repeatedly represented the unprotected position of the bay to government, and has obtained permission to place an officer and nine men on pay as scouts to watch the roads leading to the settlements. gascoigne is in charge of them. there are two roads by which the natives can come; the one a short one, and this is being watched, the other a much longer and more difficult one, and this is entirely open to them if they choose to use it. "the fact is, biggs relies on the fact that colonel lambert is at wairoa, and is collecting a force of men there to attack te kooti, and he believes that he shall get information from him and from some spies he has in the neighbourhood of te kooti's camp long before any movement is actually made. of course he may do so, but i consider it is a very risky thing to trust the safety of the whole settlement to chance. he ought to station four mounted men on both tracks as near as he dare to te kooti's camp. in that case we should be sure to get news in plenty of time to put all the able-bodied men under arms before the enemy could reach the settlement." "have they got a stockade built?" "no, it was proposed at a meeting of some of the settlers that this should be done, but biggs assured them it was altogether unnecessary. i do not know how it is, wilfrid, but take us all together we englishmen have fully a fair share of common sense. i have observed over and over again that in the majority of cases when an englishman reaches a certain rank in official life, he seems to become an obstinate blockhead. i have often wondered over it, but cannot account for it. anyhow the state of affairs here is an excellent example of this. i suppose in the whole settlement there is not, with the exception of the man in authority, a single person who does not perceive that the situation is a dangerous one, and that no possible precaution should be omitted; and yet the man who is responsible for the safety of all throws cold water on every proposal, and snubs those who are willing to give up time and labour in order to ensure the safety of the place. "i suppose he considers that the tone he adopts shows him to be a man superior to those around him, possessing alike far greater knowledge of the situation, and a total freedom from the cowardly fears of his neighbours. well, well, i hope that events will justify his course, but i own that i sleep with my rifle and revolvers loaded and ready to hand. mind, i do not say that the chances may not be ten to one against te kooti's making a raid down here; but i say if they were a hundred to one it would be the height of folly not to take every possible precaution to ensure the safety of all here." "don't you think, mr. atherton, that it would be better for mother to go home? i am getting all right now, and can get on very well without her." "i am sure your mother would not leave you at present, wilfrid, and i don't think you will be fit to be moved for another fortnight yet. te kooti has done nothing for two months, and may not move for as much more. your mother knows nothing of what i have told you, and i should not make her anxious or uncomfortable by giving her even a hint that i considered there is danger in the air." chapter xv. the massacre at poverty bay. another week passed and wilfrid was able to walk about the house and garden. a ship was going down in three days, and mr. atherton had arranged with the captain to put into the mohaka river and land them there. no change had taken place in the situation. there had been a meeting of the settlers and friendly natives. the latter had offered to erect the stockades for a small fort if the settlers would do the earthworks. this they had agreed to, but the project was abandoned, as major biggs again declared it to be wholly unnecessary. some of the settlers, dissatisfied with the result, formed themselves into a vigilance committee to watch the ford of the waipaoa river. this was done for several nights, but major biggs again interfered, and told them he considered the act to be absurd. the vigilance committee, therefore, ceased to act. a few nights later te kooti's people crossed at this very ford. late in the evening of the th of november mr. atherton was about to go up to bed when he heard a growl from a dog chained up outside. he listened, and made out the voices of men talking in low tones. the lower windows had shutters, and these mr. atherton had with some difficulty persuaded mr. sampson, who was himself incredulous as to the possibility of attack, to have fastened up of a night. mr. atherton ran upstairs, knocked at the doors of wilfrid's and the settler's rooms, and told them to get up instantly, as something was wrong. then he threw up his window. "who is there?" he asked. "open the door," a native replied, "we have a message for you." "you can give me the message here. i shall not come down until i know who you are." "the message is that you are to open the door and come out. te kooti wants you." mr. atherton could just make out the figure of the speaker in the darkness. "that is my answer," he said as he fired. a fierce yell from twenty throats rose in the air, and there was a rush towards the door, while two or three shots were fired at the window. mr. atherton had, however, stepped back the instant he had discharged his rifle, and now, leaning out, discharged the chambers of his revolver in quick succession among the natives gathered round the door. shrieks and yells arose from them, and they bounded away into the darkness, and again several musket-shots were fired at the window. by this time the settler and wilfrid had both joined mr. atherton, having leapt from their beds, seized their arms, and ran out when the first shot was fired. "it is te kooti's men," mr. atherton said. "they have come at last. i expect there will be a few minutes before they attack again. you had better throw on some clothes at once and tell the ladies to dress instantly. we may have to leave the house and try to escape across country." wilfrid and the settler gave the messages, and then returned. "how many of them do you think there are?" wilfrid asked. "about twenty of them, i should say, and we could rely upon beating them off; but no doubt there are parties told off to the attack of all the outlying settlers, and when the others have done their work they may gather here." "where are they now?" wilfrid asked as he gazed into the darkness. "i fancy they are behind that shed over there. they are no doubt arranging their plan of attack. i expect they will try fire. there! do you see? that is the flash of a match." a minute later a light was seen to rise behind the shed, and there was the sound of breaking wood. the light grew brighter and brighter. "they will be coming soon," mr. atherton said. "do not throw away a shot. the shingles on this roof are as dry as tinder, and if a burning brand falls on them the place will be in a blaze in five minutes. now!" as he spoke a number of natives, each carrying a flaming brand, appeared from behind the wood shed. the three rifles cracked out, and as many natives fell. the farmer began to reload his rifle, while mr. atherton and wilfrid handed theirs to mrs. renshaw, who at that moment joined them, and opened fire with their revolvers. only two of wilfrid's shots told, but mr. atherton's aim was as steady as when firing at a mark. two of the natives fell, and four others, throwing down their brands, ran back wounded to the shelter of the wood shed. their companions, after a moment's hesitation, followed their example. there were now but six unwounded men out of the twenty who attacked the house. "there is one of them off for assistance!" wilfrid exclaimed as he caught sight of a figure running at full speed from the shed. in another moment he was lost in the darkness. "now is the time for us to make our escape," mr. atherton said, turning from the window. "we have succeeded so far, but there may be three times as many next time, and we must be off. we will get out by a window at the back of the house and try and make our way across country to the mahia tribe. we shall be safe there." "but wilfrid cannot walk a hundred yards," mrs. renshaw said. "then we must carry him," mr. atherton replied cheerfully. "he is no great weight, and we can make a litter when we get far enough away. take a loaf of bread, mrs. sampson, a bottle or two of water, and a flask of spirits. you will find one full on my table. please hurry up, for there is not a moment to lose. i will stay here to the last moment and fire an occasional shot at the shed to let them know that we are still here." as the course mr. atherton advised was evidently the best, the others followed his instructions without discussion, and three minutes later stepped out from the back window into the garden. mr. atherton had been told that they were ready, and after firing a last shot from the window and reloading his rifle joined them. mrs. sampson had a small basket on one arm, and her child, who was ten years old, grasping her hand. mrs. renshaw had taken charge of wilfrid's rifle, and had offered him her arm, but the excitement had given him his strength for the moment, and he declared himself perfectly capable of walking without assistance. "go on as quietly as you can," mr. atherton said. "i will keep a bit behind first. they may possibly have put somebody on the watch on this side of the house, although i do not expect they have. they have been taken too much by surprise themselves." the little party went on quietly and noiselessly about three hundred yards, and then mr. atherton joined them. wilfrid was breathing heavily and leaning against a tree. "now jump up upon my back, wilfrid," mr. atherton said; "your weight will not make much difference to me one way or the other. that is right; lend him a hand, sampson, and get him on to my shoulders. it will be easier for both of us, for i have got no hips for his knees to catch hold of. that is right. now if you will take my gun we shall get along merrily." they walked fast for about two miles. wilfrid several times offered to get down, saying that he could walk again for a bit, but mr. atherton would not hear of it. at the end of two miles they reached the spot where the country was covered with low scrub. "we are pretty safe now," mr. atherton said, "we can turn off from the track and take to the scrub for shelter, and there will be little chance of their finding us. now, wilfrid, i will set you down for a bit. this is fine exercise for me, and if i were to carry you a few miles every day i should fine down wonderfully. ah! the others have come up;" he broke off as the sound of a native yell sounded on the still night air, and looking round they saw a bright light rising in the direction from which they had come. "they have set fire to the house," the settler said; "there goes the result of six years' work. however, i need not grumble over that, now that we have saved our lives." "we had best be moving on," mr. atherton said. "no doubt they opened a heavy fire before they set fire to the shingles with their brands, but the fact that we did not return their fire must have roused their suspicions, and by this time they must have woke up to the fact that we have escaped. they will hunt about for a bit, no doubt, round the house, and may send a few men some distance along the tracks, but they will know there is very little chance of catching us until daylight. now, sampson, let us join arms, your right and my left. wilfrid can sit on them and put his arms round our necks. we carry our rifles on our other shoulders, and that will balance matters. that is right. now on we go again." with occasional halts they went on for another four hours. by this time the ladies and the little girl were completely exhausted from stumbling over roots and low shrubs in the darkness and the two men also were thoroughly fatigued; for the night was extremely hot, and the work of carrying wilfrid in addition to the weight of their ammunition, told upon them. they had long since lost the path, but knew by the stars that they were keeping in the right direction. "now we will have a few hours' halt," mr. atherton said. "we may consider ourselves as perfectly safe from pursuit, though we shall have to be cautious, for there may be parties of these scoundrels wandering about the country. we may hope that a good many of the settlers heard the firing and made off in time, but i fear we shall hear some sad stories of this night's work." lying down the whole party were in a few minutes fast asleep. wilfrid had offered to keep watch, saying that he had done no walking and could very well keep awake, but mr. atherton said that nothing would be gained by it. "you could see nothing, and you would hear nothing until a party of natives were quite close, and unless they happened by sheer accident to stumble upon us they could not find us; besides, though you have done no absolute walking, the exertion of sitting up and holding on has been quite as much for you in your weak state as carrying you has been for us. no, we had best all take a rest so as to start fresh in the morning." mr. atherton woke as soon as daylight broke, and rousing himself, cautiously looked round. there was nothing in sight, and he decided to let the party sleep for a few hours longer. it was eight o'clock and the sun was high before the others opened their eyes. mr. atherton was standing up. "there is a horseman coming across the plain," he said; "no doubt he is following the track; by the line he is taking he will pass a little to our right. i will go out to hear the news. i think you had better remain where you are, he may be followed." mr. atherton walked through the bush until he reached the track just as the rider came along. "ah! you have escaped, mr. atherton; i am glad of that. have all your party got away?" "yes, thank god!" mr. atherton said; "and now what is the news?" "i cannot tell all," the settler said, "but there has been a terrible massacre. i was pressing wool for dodd and peppard, whose station, you know, lies some distance from any other. i rode up there just as day was breaking and went to the wool shed. nobody came, and i heard the dog barking angrily; so i went up to the house to see what was the matter. i found the back-door open and the two men lying dead inside, evidently killed by natives. i then galloped off to the mission station and warned them there, and then to the stations of hawthorne and strong. i found they had already been warned, and were just about to start; then i rode to matawhero to warn the settlers there. most of them had already made off. i passed bigg's house on the way; there were a number of natives round it evidently in possession, and as i passed mann's house i saw him and his wife and child lying outside dead. how many more have been murdered i do not know. it is an awful business. where are your friends?" "they are in the scrub there. we are making our way to the mahia." "most of the settlers who have escaped have made for the old redoubt at taranganui, and i fancy they will be able to beat off any attack made on them. i am riding for wairoa. i cannot think what they can have been about there to let te kooti slip away without sending us a warning. he must have come by the long road and been six or seven days on the march." "have you seen any natives since you started?" mr. atherton asked. "i saw a party of about twenty of them moving across the country about two miles back. they were scattered about in the bush, and were, i expect, in search of fugitives. they were moving across the line i was going, and were half a mile away; but when they come on this path they may follow it, knowing that those who made their escape and did not go to the redoubt would be likely to try to reach the mahia country." "thank you! then we will be moving on without delay," mr. atherton said; and the settler at once rode on with his message to the force at wairoa. as soon as mr. atherton joined the party and told them what he had heard they again set out. after walking for four miles they reached the edge of the plain, and the path here ascended a sharp rise and entered a narrow defile. wilfrid, who was sitting on mr. atherton's shoulders, looked back for the twentieth time as they ascended the rise. "they are following us!" he exclaimed. "there are a party of fifteen or twenty coming along the path at a run. they are not more than a mile behind at the outside." "then i will put you down, wilfrid," mr. atherton said quietly; "that will give me time to cool down a bit before they arrive. they could not have come up at a better place for us. it is no use our trying to hide, they would track us directly. we must make a stand at the mouth of this defile. it is a good place for defence, and if it were not for this rascally bush we should have no difficulty in keeping them off. even as it is i think we can make a good fight of it. now, mrs. renshaw, will you and mrs. sampson and the child go a little way in and sit down. i have no doubt we shall be able to beat these fellows back, and if we do that we can hope to make the rest of our journey without further molestation." "could i be of any use in loading the rifles, mr. atherton?" "i think not, mrs. renshaw; it may be a long skirmish, and we shall have plenty of time to load; and your being here with us and running the risk of being hit would make us nervous. i think, if you do not mind, we would much rather know that you are in safety behind us." "very well," mrs. renshaw said quietly; "i will do what you think best. we shall be praying for your success until it is over." mr. atherton looked round after the two ladies had gone on. "there is a bush with a wide ledge of flat ground behind it," he said, pointing to a little clump of underwood some ten feet above them on the side of the ravine. "i think, with my help, you can manage to clamber up there, wilfrid. lying down you will be able to fire under the bush and be in fair shelter. mr. sampson and i will hold the path here. if they make a rush you will be able to help us with your revolver. up there you will have the advantage of being able to see movements among the bushes better than we shall, and can fire down at them; and if it comes to a hand-to-hand fight will be of more use there than down here." wilfrid at once assented. "stand on my hand and i will hoist you up." mr. atherton raised wilfrid until he was able to get on to the ledge of rock behind the bushes. wilfrid laid himself down there, and with his knife cut off a few of the lower twigs so that he was able to get a good view ahead. "keep yourself well back, lad, and do not raise your head except to fire. do you see anything of them?" "yes, they are not more than a quarter of a mile away and are scattering among the bushes. no doubt they caught sight of us as we came up here, and think it possible we may intend to defend the defile." "i will let them know we are here;" and mr. atherton made two steps forward to the mouth of the defile. almost at the same instant he levelled his rifle and fired, and one of the maoris threw up his arms and fell back, the rest throwing themselves down instantaneously among the bushes, whence a moment later two or three shots were fired. but mr. atherton had stepped back, and he and the settler, lying down on the ground, worked themselves forward until by raising their heads they could command a view of the slope up to the mouth of the ravine. for a time all was silent. presently wilfrid's rifle spoke out, and a yell testified to the fact that the quick aim he had taken at a dark figure stealing among the bushes had been true. it was followed quickly by a general discharge of their pieces by the natives. the bullets rattled thickly against the rock, and cut leaves from the bushes behind which wilfrid was lying, but he had drawn himself back a foot or two the moment he fired, and the balls passed harmlessly over him. not so the missive despatched by mr. atherton in the direction of a puff of smoke from a bush some forty yards away, for the figure behind it remained still and immovable while the fray went on. for upwards of an hour the exchange of shots continued, and then the assailants were joined by fifteen other natives, who had been attracted to the spot by the sound of firing. "i expect they will pluck up their courage to make a rush now, wilfrid," mr. atherton said. "if it had not been for these new arrivals i think they would have soon drawn off, for we must have diminished their numbers very considerably. don't fire again for a bit; we had best keep our rifles loaded so as to be ready for them when they pluck up courage to charge. when they do, be sure you keep your revolver as a reserve for the critical moment." five minutes later a tremendous yell rose in the air. the natives leaped to their feet from behind the bushes, fired their guns at their hidden foes, and then, tomahawk in hand, rushed forward. three shots rang out almost simultaneously from the mouth of the defile and three of the natives dropped dead in their tracks. the rest rushed forward in a body. mr. atherton and the settler leapt to their feet, and the former opened fire with his colt's revolver when the leading natives were within ten yards of him. his aim was as accurate as when directed against a mark stuck against a tree, and a man fell at each shot. but the natives' blood was thoroughly up now, and in spite of the slaughter they rushed forward. there was no room in the narrow defile for two men to swing their rifles, and mr. atherton and the settler stepped forward to meet the foe with their clubbed rifles in their hands. two crashing blows were delivered with effect, but before the settler could again raise his weapon three maoris were upon him. one tomahawk struck him in the shoulder and the rifle fell from his hands. another raised his tomahawk to brain him, but fell with a bullet from wilfrid's revolver through his chest; but the third native brought his weapon down with terrible force upon the settler's head, and he fell in a heap upon the ground. the tremendous strength of mr. atherton stood him in good stead now. the first blow he had dealt had smashed the stock of his rifle, but he whirled the iron barrel like a light twig round his head, dealing blows that broke down the defence of the natives as if their tomahawks had been straw, and beating them down as a flail would level a wheat stalk. those in front of him recoiled from a strength which seemed to them superhuman, while whenever one tried to attack him in the rear wilfrid's revolver came into play with fatal accuracy. at last, with a cry of terror, the surviving natives turned and retreated at the top of their speed. "hot work, wilfrid," mr. atherton said as he lowered his terrible weapon and wiped the streaming perspiration from his face; "but we have given the rascals such a lesson that we can journey on at our leisure. this is a bad business of poor sampson's. i will help you down first and then we will see to him. recharge your revolver, lad," he went on as wilfrid stood beside him; "some of these fellows may not be dead, and may play us an ugly trick if we are not on the look-out." wilfrid reloaded his pistol, and mr. atherton then stooped over the fallen man. "he is desperately hurt," he said, "but he breathes. hand me that revolver, wilfrid, and run back and tell mrs. sampson her husband is hurt." wilfrid had gone but a yard or two when he met his mother and the settler's wife, who, hearing the cessation of the firing, were no longer able to restrain their anxiety as to what was going forward. mrs. renshaw gave a cry of joy at seeing wilfrid walking towards her. "is it all over, my boy, and are you unhurt?" "it is all over, mother, and they have bolted. i have not had a scratch, for i have been lying down all the time in shelter; but i am sorry to say, mrs. sampson, that your husband is badly hurt. "no; he is not dead," he continued in answer to the agonized expression of inquiry in her eyes. "he has been stunned by the blow of a tomahawk, and is, as i said, badly hurt; but he will, i trust, get over it." mrs. sampson ran forward and threw herself on her knees by her husband's side, uttering a suppressed cry as she saw the terrible wound on his head. "wilfrid, there is a bottle of water untouched in the basket," mr. atherton said. "i will fetch it," mrs. renshaw broke in, hurrying away. "no, milly," she said, as the child who had been ordered to stay with the basket came running to meet her. "you must stay here for a little while. the natives have all run away, but your father is hurt and for a time must be kept quite quiet. i will send wilfrid to sit with you." taking a bottle of water and a cloth which covered the basket, mrs. renshaw hurried back. "wilfrid," she said, "do you go and sit with the little one. you can do no good here, and look completely worn out. you will be making yourself useful if you amuse milly and keep her away from here for the present." mr. atherton poured a little of the water into the cover of his flask, added some brandy, and poured a little of it between the wounded man's lips. then he saturated the cloth with water and handed it to mrs. sampson, who wiped the blood from her husband's head and face, then poured a little water from the bottle on to his forehead. some more brandy and water was poured between his lips and he uttered a faint groan. "i will examine his wound now, mrs. sampson. i have had some experience that way in my journeyings about the world." kneeling down he carefully examined the wound. [illustration: mr. atherton keeps the mouth of the defile _page _] "it is better than i hoped, mrs. sampson," he said cheerfully. "i expect the thick hat turned the tomahawk a little and it fell obliquely on the side of the head. it has carried away a goodish slice of the hair and scalp, and has starred the bone, but it has not crushed it in, and i think that with care and nursing your husband will not be long before he gets over it. you had better fold up that cloth again, pour some fresh water over it, and then bandage it over the wound with a slip of stuff torn off from the bottom of your petticoat. you had better tear off two slips, for his arm will require bandaging too. i will look to that as soon as you have done his head. no," he went on, when he saw that mrs. sampson's trembling fingers were quite incapable of fixing the bandage properly, "i do not think that will do. if you will allow me i will do it for you." he took mrs. sampson's place, and while mrs. renshaw supported the settler's head he wound the bandage tightly and skilfully round it. "now for his arm," he said, and drawing out his knife cut the sleeve up the shoulder. "it has narrowly missed the artery," he went on; "but though it is an ugly-looking gash it is not serious. i wish we had some more water, but as we haven't we must do without it, and i daresay we shall come across a stream soon." when the operation of bandaging was complete mr. atherton stood up. "what are we to do next?" mrs. renshaw asked him. "we must cut a couple of saplings and make a litter," he said. "if one of you ladies can spare a petticoat, please take it off while i cut the poles." he went away and returned in a few minutes with two poles ten or eleven feet long. "here is the petticoat," mrs. renshaw said. the settler's wife was too absorbed by her grief and anxiety to hear mr. atherton's request. "what is to be done with it?" "in the first place it must be taken out of that band, or whatever you call it," mr. atherton replied, "and then split right down. here is my knife." when the garment had been operated upon there remained a length of strong calico nearly three feet wide and three yards long. "that will do well," he said. "now we have to fasten this to the poles. how would you do that? it is more in your way than mine." "i should roll it twice round the pole and then sew it, if i had a needle and thread. if i had not that i should make holes in every six inches and tie it with string; but unfortunately we have no string either." "i think we can manage that," mr. atherton said; and he walked rapidly away and returned in a few minutes with some long stalks that looked like coarse grass. "this is the very thing, mrs. renshaw," he said; "this is what is called new zealand flax, and i have no doubt it will be strong enough for our purpose." in a quarter of an hour the litter was completed. just as it was finished mrs. sampson uttered an exclamation of joy, and turning round, they saw that her husband had opened his eyes and was looking round in a dazed, bewildered way. "it is all right, sampson," mr. atherton said cheerfully; "we have thrashed the natives handsomely; they have bolted, and there is no fear of their coming back again. you have had a clip on the head with a tomahawk, but i do not think that you will be much the worse for it at the end of a week or two. we have just been manufacturing a litter for you, and now we will lift you on to it. now, ladies, i will take him by the shoulders; will you take him by the feet, mrs. renshaw; and do you, mrs. sampson, support his head? that is the way. now, i will just roll up my coat and put it under his head, and then i think he will do; lay our rifles beside him. now, i will take the two handles at his head; do you each take one at his feet. the weight will not be great, and you can change about when your arms get tired. yes, i see what you are thinking about, mrs. renshaw. we must go along bit by bit. we will carry our patient here for half a mile, then i will come back and fetch wilfrid up to that point, then we will go on again, and so on." "all the hard work falls on you, mr. atherton; it is too bad," mrs. renshaw said with grateful tears in her eyes. "it will do me a world of good, mrs. renshaw. i must have lost over a stone weight since yesterday. if this sort of thing were to go on for a few weeks i should get into fighting condition. now, are you both ready? lift." in a short time they came to the point where wilfrid and the child were sitting down together. wilfrid had been impressing upon her that her father was hurt, and that she must be very good and quiet, and walk along quietly by her mother's side. so when they came along she got up and approached them with a subdued and awe-struck air. she took the hand her mother held out to her. "is father very bad, mother?" she asked in a low tone. "he is better than he was, dear, and we must hope and pray that he will soon be well again; but at present you must not speak to him. he must be kept very quiet and not allowed to talk." "you sit where you are, wilfrid, i will come back for you in half an hour," mr. atherton said. "that you won't mr. atherton," wilfrid said, getting up. "i have had a long rest, for, except for pulling my trigger and loading, i have done nothing since the first short walk when we started this morning. all this excitement has done me a lot of good, and i feel as if i could walk ever so far." "well, put your rifle in the litter, then," mr. atherton said; "its weight will make no difference to us, and it will make a lot of difference to you; when you are tired say so." wilfrid struggled on resolutely, refusing to stop until they reached a stream two miles from the starting-place. here they rested for an hour. the settler's wounds were washed and rebandaged, the others partook of a meal of bread and water, and they then continued the journey. at the end of another half-mile wilfrid was obliged to own that his strength could hold out no longer, but he refused positively to accept mr. atherton's proposal to come back for him. "i will not hear of it, mr. atherton," he said. "from what mrs. sampson says it is another eight or ten miles to the mahia country. there is not the least fear of any of the hau-haus following on our track. the best way by far is this: i will go a hundred yards into the bush and lie down. you push on. it will be dark before you finish your journey as it is, you would not get there till to-morrow morning if you had to keep on coming back for me; besides, you would never get on with the litter after it is dark. leave me a piece of bread, a bottle of water, my rifle and revolver, and i shall be as comfortable among the bushes there as if i were in bed. in the morning you can send out a party of mahias to fetch me in. if you break down a small bough here by the side of the way, that will be quite sufficient to tell the natives where they are to turn off from the path to look for me." "well, i really think that is the best plan, wilfrid. there is, as you say, no real danger in your stopping here alone. it would be a long job coming back for you every time we halt, and it is of importance to get mr. sampson laid down and quiet as soon as possible." mrs. renshaw did not like leaving wilfrid alone; but she saw that she could be of no real assistance to him, and her aid was absolutely required to carry the wounded man. she therefore offered no objections to the proposal. "don't look downcast, mother," wilfrid said as he kissed her. "the weather is fine, and there is no hardship whatever in a night in the bush, especially after what we went through when we were following te kooti." wilfrid made his way a hundred yards back into the bush and then threw himself down under a tree-fern, and in a very few minutes he was sound asleep. the next time he awoke all was dark around him. "i must have slept a good many hours," he said. "i feel precious hungry." he ate a hunch of bread, took a drink of water from the bottle, and soon fell asleep again. the morning was breaking when he again woke. a quarter of an hour later he heard voices, and cocking his rifle and lying down full length on the grass, waited. in another minute to his joy he heard mr. atherton's voice shouting, "where are you, wilfrid? where have you hidden yourself?" chapter xvi. the pursuit of te kooti. he leapt to his feet and ran forward. mr. atherton was approaching, accompanied by a party of six natives. "why, mr. atherton, i was not expecting you for another three hours." "well, you see, wilfrid, your mother was anxious about you. she did not say anything, for she is a plucky woman, and not given to complaining or grumbling, still i could see she was anxious, so i arranged with these natives to be ready to start three hours before daybreak, so as to get here just as the sun was rising." "it is awfully kind of you, atherton; but surely the natives would have been able to find me without your troubling yourself to come all this way again. i am sure you must have been dreadfully tired after all your work yesterday." "well, wilfrid, perhaps i was just a little bit anxious myself about you, and should have fussed and fidgeted until you got back, so you see the quickest way to satisfy myself was to come with the natives." "what time did you get in last night?" "about eight o'clock in the evening, i think. we were all pretty well knocked up, but the two ladies bore it bravely, so you see i had no excuse for grumbling." "i am sure you would not have grumbled anyhow," wilfrid laughed; "but i know that when one is carrying anyone the weight at the head is more than double the weight at the feet, and that was divided between them, while you had the heavy end all to yourself. and how is sampson?" "i think he will do, wilfrid. the natives took him in hand as soon as he got there, and put leaf poultices to his wounds. they are very good at that sort of thing; and so they ought to be, considering they have been breaking each other's heads almost from the days of adam. well, let us be off. we have brought the stretcher with us, and shall get you back in no time." wilfrid lay down upon the stretcher. four of the natives lifted it and went off at a light swinging pace. from time to time changes were made, the other two natives taking their share. had they been alone the natives could have made the ten miles' journey under the two hours, but mr. atherton reduced their speed directly after they had started. "i have not been killed by the hau-haus, wilfrid, and i do not mean to let myself be killed by friendly natives. three miles an hour is my pace, and except in a case of extreme emergency i never exceed it. i have no wish, when i get back to england, to be exhibited as a walking skeleton. "it is good to hear you laugh again, lad," he went on as wilfrid burst into a shout of laughter, to the astonishment of his four bearers. "i was afraid six weeks back that we should never hear you laugh again." "oh, mr. atherton!" wilfrid exclaimed a few minutes later, "were there any other of the poverty bay people there last night; and have you heard what took place and whether many besides those we know of have lost their lives?" "yes; i am sorry to say it has been a very bad business. as we heard from butters, dodd and reppart were killed, and there is no doubt that their shepherd was also slaughtered. major biggs, poor fellow, has paid for his obstinacy and over-confidence with his life. his wife, baby, and servant were also killed. the news of this was brought by a boy employed in the house, who escaped by the back-door and hid in a flax bush. captain wilson, his wife, and children have all been murdered. m'culloch was killed with his wife and baby; the little boy managed to escape, and got to the redoubt at taranganui. cadel was also killed. fortunately firmin heard the sound of musketry in the night. he started at dawn to see what was the matter. he met a native, who told him that the hau-haus were massacring the whites, and at once rode off and warned wylie, stevenson, benson, hawthorne, and strong; and these all escaped with their families, and with major westrupp got safely to the mahia people. "the boy who escaped from major biggs's house reached bloomfields, and all the women and children there managed to escape. how they did it heaven only knows, for the hau-haus were all round. that is all we know at present, and we hope that the rest of the settlers of the outlying stations round matawhero succeeded in getting into taranganui. whether the hau-haus will be satisfied with the slaughter they have effected, or will try to penetrate further into the settlement or attack taranganui, remains to be seen. of course the people who have escaped are, like ourselves, ignorant of everything that has taken place except what happened in their immediate neighbourhood. i should fancy, myself, that however widespread the massacre may have been, the hau-haus started last night on their way back. they would know that as soon as the news reached wairoa the force there will be on the move to cut them off." "do you think they will succeed?" wilfrid asked eagerly. "i do not think so, wilfrid. if colonel whitmore were there they would have routed out te kooti long ago, but colonel lambert seems a man of a different stamp altogether. why, i heard last night that he marched six days ago to whataroa, quite close to te kooti's place, and that a prisoner they took gave them positive information that the hau-haus there had all left to assist te kooti in a raid upon poverty bay. it seems they did not believe the news; at anyrate, although a mail left for poverty bay on the day after they returned to wairoa, they sent no news whatever of the report they had heard. if they had done so there would have been plenty of time for the settlers to prepare for the attack. "it is one of the most scandalous cases of neglect that i ever heard of, and lambert ought to be tried by court-martial, though that would not bring all these people to life again. however there is one thing certain, the news of this affair will create such a sensation throughout the island that even the incapable government at auckland, who have disregarded all the urgent requests for aid against te kooti, will be forced to do something, and i sincerely hope they will despatch whitmore with a strong force of constabulary to wipe out te kooti and his band. it is curious how things come about. almost all these poor fellows who have been killed belonged to the poverty bay militia, who refused to press on with whitmore in pursuit of te kooti. had they done so, the addition of thirty white men to his force might have made all the difference in that fight you had with him, and in that case te kooti would have been driven far up the country, and this massacre would never have taken place." it was a great relief to mrs. renshaw when wilfrid reached the village. she was not given to idle fears, and felt convinced that he was running no real danger; for she knew mr. atherton would not have left him by himself had he not been perfectly convinced there was no danger of pursuit. still she felt a weight lifted off her mind when she saw the party entering the village. "well, mother, you must have had a terrible journey of it yesterday," wilfrid said, after he had assured her that he felt none the worse for what had passed, and was indeed stronger and better than he had been two days before. "it was a terrible journey, wilfrid. fourteen miles does not seem such a very long distance to walk, though i do not suppose i ever walked as far since i was a girl; but the weight of the stretcher made all the difference. it did not feel much when we started, but it soon got heavier as we went on; and though we changed sides every few minutes it seemed at last as if one's arms were being pulled out of their sockets. we could never have done it if it had not been for mr. atherton. he kept us cheery the whole time. it seems ridiculous to remember that he has always been representing himself as unequal to any exertion. he was carrying the greater part of the weight, and indeed five miles before we got to the end of our journey, seeing how exhausted we were becoming, he tied two sticks six feet long to our end of the poles, and in that way made the work a great deal lighter for us, and of course a great deal heavier for himself. he declared he hardly felt it, for by that time i had torn two wide strips from the bottom of my dress, tied them together, and put them over his shoulders and fastened them to the two poles; so that he got the weight on his shoulders instead of his hands. but in addition to mr. sampson's weight he carried milly perched on his shoulder the last eight miles. he is a noble fellow." "he did not say anything about carrying milly," wilfrid said, "or of taking all the weight of the litter. he is a splendid fellow, mother." "he was terribly exhausted when he got in," mrs. renshaw said; "and was looking almost as pale as death when we went into the light in the hut where the other fugitives had assembled. as soon as the others relieved him of the weight of the litter, and lifted milly down from his shoulder, he went out of the hut. as soon as i had seen mr. sampson well cared for, i went out to look for him, and found he had thrown himself down on the ground outside, and was lying there, i thought at first insensible, but he wasn't. i stooped over him and he said, 'i am all right, mrs. renshaw, but i was not up to answering questions. in half an hour i shall be myself again, but i own that i feel washed out at present.' i took him out a glass of brandy and water, he drank it and said, 'i feel ashamed at being waited on by you, mrs. renshaw, when you must be as tired as i am. please do not bother any more about me, but if you will ask one of the others to get a native blanket to throw over me to keep off the dew i shall be all right in the morning; but i do not feel as if i could get on my feet again to-night if a fortune depended on it.' of course i did as he asked me, and i was perfectly stupefied this morning when i heard that he had been up at two o'clock and had gone off with a party of natives to bring you in." "it was awfully good of him," wilfrid said, "and he never said a word to me about it. where is he?" and he looked round. but mr. atherton had disappeared. "have you seen mr. atherton?" they asked mr. wylie, as he came out of a large hut that had been given up for the use of the fugitives. "he has just had a glass of spirits and water--unfortunately we had no tea to offer him--and a piece of bread, and has taken a blanket and has gone off to an empty hut; he said he intended to sleep until to-morrow morning," and indeed it was not until next day that mr. atherton again appeared. several friendly natives arrived one after another at the village. they brought the news that the hau-haus had attacked only the colonists round matawairo, and that all the rest of the settlers were gathered at taranganui; but the hau-haus were plundering all the deserted houses, and were shooting down all the natives who refused to join them. it was afterwards found indeed that the natives had suffered even more severely than the whites, for while thirty-three of the latter were murdered thirty-seven of the natives were killed. major westrupp had left by ship for napier to obtain assistance, lieutenant gascoyne had made his way safely through the hau-haus to taranganui, and had sent a whale-boat out to a schooner that was seen passing down the coast. she at once came into the port, and the women and children were sent off to napier. the garrison of the fort had been reinforced by the friendly natives under their chief henare potare, and were awaiting the expected attack by te kooti. a week later news came that major westrupp and captain tuke had arrived from napier with three hundred natives, and that the hau-haus had retired with their plunder. the party at te mahia at once started for the coast accompanied by some thirty men of the mahia tribe. a waggon had been procured for the transport of the women and children, and a march of twenty-four miles took them to taranganui. they found that parties had been out the day before to bury the dead, and had brought in two persons who were supposed to have been murdered. as one of the parties were going along they saw a small poodle dog run into a bush, and recognized it as having belonged to captain wilson. they called and whistled to it in vain, and came to the conclusion that someone must be in hiding there. after half an hour's search they discovered little james wilson with the dog tightly held in his arms; the boy was too frightened to distinguish friend from foe, and was greatly delighted when he recognized one of the party. he told them that his mother was alive, and was lying wounded in an out-house at their place. he had lost his way while trying to reach taranganui to bring help to her. captain wilson had defended his house with a revolver until the natives brought fire to burn him out. as they offered to spare the lives of all within if they surrendered, captain wilson, thinking that there was a possibility of their keeping their word, while those within would certainly be burned if they resisted, surrendered. the prisoners were being led along by their captors, captain wilson carrying the little boy, when the natives fell upon them. captain wilson was shot through the back, his servant, morau, tomahawked, and mrs. wilson and the other children bayoneted. captain wilson, when shot, fell into a bush, and the little boy in the confusion crawled away unnoticed into the scrub. he had wandered about sleeping in out-houses for several nights, often close to the enemy, and at last found his way back to what had been his home, and found the bodies of his father, brothers, and sisters, and on going into an out-house for shelter found his mother alive there. she had been bayoneted in several places and beaten on the head with the butt of a rifle until they thought her dead. later in the day she had recovered consciousness and crawled back to the house, where she got some water and then took refuge in the out-house, where two or three days later she was found by her son. she had since been kept alive by eggs and other things the child found by foraging round; but he had at last started to try to get assistance for her. after hearing the child's story the party had galloped on to captain wilson's, and the poor lady had been found and carried to taranganui. a few days later she was sent down to napier by ship, but expired shortly after from the effects of her wounds. in the week that elapsed between the date of the massacre and their return to the settlement wilfrid had regained his strength wonderfully, and the bracing air of the hills and the excitement of the events through which he passed had acted as a complete restorative. mr. atherton too had completely recovered from his fatigue, and, indeed, professed himself to have benefited greatly by them, as he maintained that in three days he had lost as many stone of flesh. the morning after their return to taranganui they had a long talk about their plans. it was settled that mrs. renshaw should at once return home. she was most anxious that wilfrid should accompany her; but this he would not consent to. "no, mother," he said; "it is my duty, and everyone's duty, to aid in hunting down these murderous scoundrels. they have massacred a number of people who were very kind to me when i first became ill, and i will do my best to punish them; besides, until te kooti's band is destroyed there will be no peace or safety for any of the outlying settlements, and they are just as likely to make an attack on our settlement as any other; indeed, we are the nearest to them, therefore in fighting here i am fighting for the protection of our home." mr. atherton also announced his intention of accompanying the column in pursuit of te kooti. "i dislike fatigue amazingly," he said; "but for several reasons i feel myself bound to see this affair through to the end. in the first place they have attacked me and caused me to undergo great fatigue; in the second, they have murdered a number of my acquaintances; in the third place i have to look after this boy and see that he gets into no mischief; and, lastly, it really seems to me that a month or two of this sort of thing will absolutely reduce me to ordinary dimensions, a thing which i have for years given up even hoping for." "well, wilfrid," mrs. renshaw said at last, "i suppose you must have your way. i do think that, as you say, it is the duty of everyone to do all that he can to punish the people who have committed these massacres upon defenceless people, and it is necessary for the safety of the settlement that te kooti's band shall be destroyed. it is very hard on us to know that our only son is fighting; but other men as well have to leave perhaps wives and children behind, and if only those without ties were to go the force would be a small one indeed. it is a comfort to me, mr. atherton, that you have made up your mind to go too. it sounds selfish of me to say so; but i suppose all mothers are selfish when their sons are concerned." "i understand your feeling, mrs. renshaw, and it is quite natural. i do think that everyone who can carry a musket ought to join in this expedition, and i flatter myself that wilfrid's rifle and mine are allies not to be despised. anyhow, mrs. renshaw, i promise you that we will not do what are called rash things. we won't try to capture te kooti single-handed, and i think that we can be much more useful covering an attack than leading an assault." accordingly, two days later mrs. renshaw embarked on a coaster for the mohaka river, and mr. atherton and wilfrid announced to lieutenant gascoyne that they would accompany his force as volunteers. "i am heartily glad to hear it," that officer replied. "i have heard from wylie of your defence of that pass against the hau-haus, and yesterday i had a talk with sampson, who is getting round now, and he gave me the history of the affair, and from what he says you and renshaw must have killed at least twenty hau-haus, for sampson admits that he is not much of a shot and had a very small share in the total." "yes; we can both shoot indifferently well," mr. atherton said carelessly, "and can both be trusted to hit a maori if we see him within about four hundred yards of us. i fancy that we may be of service to you in keeping down the fire of the enemy if you are attacking a pah. there is nothing cows fellows so much as finding that it is certain death to raise their heads from behind shelter to take aim. of course we shall be ready generally to obey orders, but that is the special work we join for. you see, renshaw is but just recovering from illness, and my build unsuits me for violent exertion. so if you want to storm a steep hill you must not count on us being with you except so far as shooting goes." "well, i will take you on your own terms," lieutenant gascoyne said smiling. "mrs. sampson told me yesterday how disinclined you were for violent exertion, and how she had to help you along on that journey to te mahia." mr. atherton laughed. "there are exceptions to all rules," he said. "i am a peaceful botanist, but i had to fight. i hate exertion, but on that occasion i was forced to make an effort, and terribly knocked up i was over it. if it becomes absolutely necessary i may have to make an effort again, but i consider it altogether outside my province." the expedition started on the following morning, the th of november. it consisted of nearly six hundred natives belonging to the napier tribes, the mahia and marsuwai tribes. the next day they came upon the rear-guard of the hau-hau tribes of patutahi and shot two of them. great quantities of booty which the hau-haus were unable to carry away were found there, together with the bodies of several friendly natives. the next day another encampment was come upon, and here the carts taken from the plundered farms were found. at dusk on the d the column came up with the main body of the enemy, who were encamped on the te karetua creek. a heavy fire was opened on both sides, and the natives then charged, but were driven back with a loss of five killed and twelve wounded. mr. atherton and wilfrid, who were walking leisurely in the rear of the column when it came on the enemy, arrived too late to take any part in the fight. after the repulse the friendly natives took up a position on a ridge overlooking the hau-hau positions, and distant twelve hundred yards from it. rifle-pits were dug, and for the next week firing was kept up by both sides, with occasional skirmishes as one party or the other tried to take the offensive, but neither cared to try a determined attack on the other. the hau-haus had lost twenty men during the first day's fighting and suffered more in the distant firing, especially whenever they gathered as if for an attack, than did the friendlies. this was owing in no small degree to the accuracy of mr. atherton's fire. he had got some of the natives to dig a rifle-pit three or four hundred yards down the hill in front of their position, and here he and wilfrid ensconced themselves every morning before daybreak, taking down with them their provisions for the day, and from this point they galled the hau-haus greatly with their fire. wilfrid knew that his shooting could not be depended upon at this distance; but mr. atherton had been accustomed to fire at long ranges, and although at eight hundred yards his rifle was not accurate he did considerable execution, and so alarmed the hau-haus that they scarcely dared to move by daylight from one part of their intrenchment to the other. the friends always left their shelter and retired to camp as soon as the sun set. the hau-haus were not, however, idle. a party of sixty men made a long circuit and came down in rear of the column, captured the depot at patutahi with eight kegs of ammunition and a great quantity of provisions, and also seized a number of pack animals on the way up. on the d of december the force was strengthened by the arrival of the chiefs rapata and hotene, with three hundred and seventy men from te wairoa. these chiefly belonged to the ngatiporou tribe, who were far better fighters than the napier or mahia men. as soon as the reinforcements had arrived it was decided at once to dislodge the enemy from a hill of which they had possession, and then to make a general attack on the intrenchments. forty men of the wairoa tribe under mr. preece made a dashing attack on the hill, and just as they carried it rapata sent a message to him to say that his tribesmen were annoyed by the enemy's shot falling into their camp, and were therefore determined to attack at once. that tribe sallying out, carried two of the enemy's outworks with a rush, and drove the hau-haus back to their last line of rifle-pits near the river. here they were attacked by the wairoa men on the left, rapata in the centre, and the tribesmen from napier on the right. the assailants carried the intrenchment and drove the hau-haus across the river, these suffering heavy loss from the firing of the left column, who from their position commanded the course of the stream. unfortunately this fire, though destructive to the enemy, was to a certain extent in their favour, for it prevented the close pursuit of rapata's men. thirty-four hau-haus, including three of their fighting chiefs, were found dead. te kooti himself had a narrow escape. he was still suffering from his wound in the ankle, and was carried up the bed of the creek on a woman's back. a great quantity of the loot taken from the settlers was recaptured, and many of the friendly natives held prisoners by the hau-haus escaped during the fight. mr. atherton and wilfrid had joined rapata's men in their charge, and after the fight was over the former said: "well, wilfrid, it is a satisfaction to have got some natives with us at last who will fight. it seemed at first as if all the plucky natives had joined the enemy; but rapata's men are first-rate fellows, though i wish that they had rather an easier name, for ngatiporou is a crack-jaw word to pronounce." unfortunately a quarrel arose after the battle between rapata's men and the napier tribesmen, and three hundred of the latter went off. the next morning rapata and his tribe, with the remaining wairoa men, marched out to attack the position the enemy occupied on the top of a hill two miles away. mr. preece led the advanced party, and found the defences consisted of two lines of strong earthworks extending across a flat shoulder, either end resting on a cliff. mr. preece halted his men until rapata came up with the main body. wilfrid and mr. atherton had attached themselves to the ngatiporou. just as they joined mr. preece one of the men fired off a gun, and the enemy answered with a heavy volley. instantly a panic set in, and the whole force, with the exception of some sixteen or eighteen men, bolted. one of the chiefs under mr. preece followed and managed to stop them, and persuaded them to wait until rapata could return to them. this they agreed to do, but refused positively to return to the attack. mr. preece returned to rapata, who was in a state of fury at the defection of his tribe. "we will go on and attack the place by ourselves," he said. "perhaps the cowards will come up when they hear we are fighting." mr. preece at once agreed, and the party, consisting of the two leaders, mr. atherton and wilfrid, and fourteen of rapata's men, worked back through the low scrub until between twenty-five yards of the first line of earthworks, when they opened fire upon the enemy. "this is rather close work, wilfrid," mr. atherton said. "we have the best of it in some respects, because they cannot make out our position among the bushes, and they are obliged to stand up and show their heads above the parapet when they fire. we ought never to miss them at this distance, and we will soon teach them that it is fatal to pause a moment to take aim, so at the worst they will only blaze away at random." for some time the fight continued, and then rapata requested mr. preece to go down the hill and bring up some more men. only nine men would follow mr. preece, and rapata was so disgusted that he himself went down for some distance and managed to get thirty more. one of the men had brought a bill up with him, and with this shallow rifle-pits were dug among the bushes, affording a shelter to the men as they lay flat while loading. at three o'clock in the afternoon the chief called on his tribesmen to follow him, and, leaping up, they dashed at one of the outposts and carried it. a man took the news down the hill, and a chief and thirty more men came up and joined in the fight. at dusk rapata requested mr. preece to return to camp and try to get the main body back with ammunition, as their own was almost exhausted. mr. preece could not induce the natives to start, but they said they would go in the morning. all night the fight went on, but before dawn rapata, having expended his last round of ammunition, retired, having lost six men killed and four wounded. as he and his men came down they strode through the camp in single file, not deigning to take the slightest notice of the fugitives, and passing on, camped apart half a mile further on. the main body, ashamed of their cowardly conduct, were afraid to go near the chief. as it was necessary to ascertain what he meant to do, one of the white officers went to see him. for some time the chief would make no reply. at last he said, "my men have betrayed me, and i will have nothing further to do with them. i intend to return home and get other men, and when i get back i will attack the napier tribe who deserted me." the same day he marched for the coast, followed at a distance by the abashed fugitives. on the way down they met colonel whitmore, who with three hundred constabulary had just arrived by ship from the scene of operations on the other side of the island. the colonel begged rapata to return with him, but the chief said, "i never break my word. i have said i will go home, and i will; but i will return with other men and attack the napier tribes." after much persuasion colonel whitmore got him to promise that he would not interfere with the napier men; but nothing could persuade him to fight again with those men of his own tribe who had deserted him. such being the case, a steamer was placed at his disposal in order that he might make the voyage and return as soon as possible. after rapata had left colonel whitmore sent out a skirmishing party to ascertain whether the enemy retained their position. the scouts returned with the news that there were great fires on the crest of the hill, and they believed that the hau-haus were burning their huts preparatory to returning into the interior. colonel whitmore believed the report, and considering that the hau-haus would leave the neighbourhood of the settlement altogether, he ordered the constabulary to march down to the coast again as soon as possible and re-embark there, as their presence was urgently required in the north of the province of wellington, which had been left open to the attack of the enemy there by their withdrawal. fortunately before they re-embarked te kooti showed his hand. he had no idea of retreating from his position, and the fires were caused by the clearing off of the scrub which had afforded shelter to rapata's force. no sooner did he hear that colonel whitmore had marched away than he sent a party down against one of the outlying settlements, where they murdered mr. ferguson, mr. wylie's son, and a friendly native. colonel whitmore, on receiving news of the raid, marched rapidly to cut off the retreat of the hau-haus; but they managed to evade him and to retire to their main body. on the th of december colonel whitmore's force occupied a high ridge a mile distant from te kooti's position. here the colonel received news that rapata had just landed with three hundred and seventy men, and messenger after messenger was sent down urging him to hurry up. the chief, who was seriously ill, was much annoyed by these messages, especially by the last, that if he did not come soon whitmore would take the place without him. rapata replied: "very well, i have tried and failed; it is his turn now;" and immediately ordered his men to camp for the day. the next morning colonel whitmore came down himself, having been advised that the only way to succeed with rapata was to treat him in a conciliatory way. the chief's first words were, "have you taken the place?" "no," colonel whitmore replied. "i am waiting for you, rapata." "very good," rapata said; "i will be with you to-morrow morning." the ngatiporou performed a great war-dance, and as no one stumbled or fell, they considered the omen to be a good one, and marched on and joined colonel whitmore's force that night. chapter xvii. back at the farm. the position of the hau-haus was naturally a very strong one, being at the top of a high conical peak rising abruptly from low bush-covered hills to a height of two thousand feet. on the face, which had been before attacked, the ground sloped gradually up to the summit, but on the right and left the slope was very steep, and at one point there had been a landslip leaving a perpendicular face twenty feet high, and below that, for fifty feet, it was so steep that it was difficult to get a footing. the ground in rear of the position narrowed into a razor-backed ridge down which a track led, with rope-ladders to aid the descent of the rock terraces. the position in front, where alone it could be attacked, was defended by three lines of earthworks with high parapets, and with ditches in front abutting at either end on the steep slopes. the two lower works were seven feet high, the upper work was nearly fourteen feet high, with sandbag loopholes to enable the defenders to fire through. each line was connected with the one above it by covered ways. operations commenced by the advance of the arawa division of the constabulary, and a portion of the ngatiporou under rapata. advancing quietly and cautiously they came upon a party of the enemy engaged in carrying up water. they drove them up to the pah and took possession of the only water available. rifle-pits were now dug and pushed forward gradually until within a hundred yards of the enemy's first lines of defence. number seven division of the constabulary were now sent up, and these threw up a long line of trenches parallel to the enemy's works; and the artillerymen having with great exertion brought up a mortar, a vertical shell-fire was opened upon the enemy's position with great effect; although to get them to the spot these shells had to be carried on the men's backs for three miles over some terrific ravines. a hundred constabulary under colonel fraser and a hundred ngatiporou were sent round to cut off the enemy's retreat in rear. another division of constabulary under major roberts connected the two parties, and thus all escape of the enemy was cut off, with the exception of the small piece of cliff, seventy yards in length, which was believed impossible to descend, and was moreover exposed to a flanking fire from rapata's force in front and that of colonel fraser in the rear. for some days heavy firing went on, and the hardships suffered by the force were great, for the rain fell without intermission. there were many casualties on both sides. captain brown of the constabulary was killed, and captain cabel of the same corps severely wounded. colonel fraser's men pushed up the ridge in the enemy's rear, and formed rifle-pits near the summit from which the hau-haus made desperate but vain attempts to repel them. on the th of january rapata, after consultation with colonel whitmore, determined to storm the lower line of earthworks. he told off fifty picked men, and sent them round with instructions to scale the cliff at the point where the parapet ended. the work was a dangerous and difficult one, for the cliff was very steep and gravelly, and the hau-haus crowded to the end of the trench and fired down, wounding five of the stormers. but to do this they had to expose themselves, and suffered severely from the fire of the men told off to cover the attack. finally the ngatiporou succeeded in climbing up under the outer face of the parapet, which they cut through with their spades, and opening a raking fire upon the hau-haus drove them out and took possession of the first line of defence. all night a sap was carried upwards towards the second line, with the intention of blowing up the earthworks and storming the main works next morning, and two hundred picked men were assembled in the trenches ready to attack at daybreak. but at two o'clock in the morning a woman cried out from within the pah that the hau-haus had all left leaving only some wounded men and women and children. her words were not at first believed, and they were considered to be only a ruse to induce the assailants to advance up the hill under the enemy's fire. but at daybreak it was found that the news was true, that the whole of the hau-haus had escaped, by means of ropes, down the face of the perpendicular cliff. rapata with his men started in pursuit. he followed the hau-hau trail for some distance, and then scattered his men in small parties as he guessed that the enemy would scatter in search of food. a hundred and twenty of the hau-haus were overtaken and killed, and rapata returned after an absence of two days. by this time the whites and constabulary had left, as the work had now been done and the constabulary were urgently needed elsewhere. rapata marched back by a circuitous way, captured eighty more prisoners, men, women, and children, whom he brought alive down into the settlement. te kooti had lost altogether during the siege and pursuit a hundred and fifty of his men, but he was still believed in by the natives, three tribes joining him at once, more than making up for the loss he had suffered. mr. atherton and the other volunteers with colonel whitmore's force had taken but small share in the second attack upon te kooti's position, not being attached to any regular force. rapata had been greatly struck with the coolness of mr. atherton and wilfrid in his first attack, and astonished at the accuracy of their shooting, and had greeted them very heartily on his return, and invited them to act with his force. they had, therefore, during the siege taken up their position in some rifle-pits in the rear of his party, and from here had done great service to the ngatiporou by covering them from the enemy's fire, for the hau-haus soon learned that it was almost certain death to stand up to take a steady aim above the parapet. after the defeat of the hau-haus many of the natives of poverty bay who had joined te kooti, and taken a prominent part in the massacres, deserted him, and calmly returned to the settlement as if nothing had taken place, and the authorities allowed them to remain unmolested. the settlers, justly indignant that men who had so lately murdered women and children should be allowed to come down among them with impunity, formed themselves into a vigilance committee, and some of them who had lost relatives in the massacre bound themselves by oath to shoot the next party of ruffians who made their appearance. an opportunity soon offered. a native who had assisted in murdering mr. wylie's son came in, and was shot by mr. benson. the following morning, to his astonishment, benson was warned to attend as juryman at the inquest of his victim. in vain he assured the native constable that he was the man who had done the deed, and that he ought not therefore to sit. the constable refused to entertain the excuse, and so benson not only sat on his own trial but gave evidence against himself, and the jury, among whom was mr. atherton, having heard his statement, brought in the following verdict: "we find that the deceased was shot by some person unknown, and served him right." the day after this verdict was returned mr. atherton and wilfrid, who had been waiting ten days for a coasting craft, sailed for the mohaka river, and, landing at mr. mitford's, borrowed two horses from him, and were soon at the glade. "i am afraid i am heavy on a horse still, wilfrid," mr. atherton said as they started, "but this animal may be thankful that i did not ride him the last time i was here. i calculate i must be at least four stone lighter than i was." "you certainly have lost a good deal of flesh, mr. atherton. i almost wonder that you did not continue with our friend rapata. he declares that he will follow up te kooti till he catches him if it takes him a couple of years." "no, no, wilfrid," mr. atherton laughed, "it is possible to have too much of a good thing. i might jog along with a colonial force well enough and benefit by it, but rapata and his men would kill me in a week. i do not think those fellows know what it is to be tired. no, i am very well contented, and i intend to do no end of work in the woods and keep myself down to my present weight. there is an immense deal to be done in the way of botanizing. i have already found twelve new sorts of ferns, and i have only just begun, and have not even looked at the orchids yet or the mosses." "i should have thought, mr. atherton, that it would have been well worth your while to go in for collecting and sending home rare and new plants, instead of merely drying specimens for your herbarium. i know new orchids fetch a tremendous price, because a gentleman near us at home had a large house full of them, and i know he used to pay what seemed to me prodigious prices for little scraps of plants not a bit more beautiful than the others, simply because they were rare." "the idea is a very good one, wilfrid, and i will think it over. i have never gone in for collecting in that way, for my income has been amply sufficient for my wants, but there can be no doubt that in these days, when people are ready to give such large sums for rare plants, a botanist like myself might make a really good thing of it out here. the woods are literally crowded with rare plants, and it would add to the interest of my excursions. as it is now i simply look for new species, and even here these are hard to discover; but if i took to getting rare specimens for sending home, there would be an unlimited field of work for me. of course the difficulty is getting them home alive, for in a country like this, where there is practically no winter, they are never in an entirely quiescent state, and would require the most careful packing in cases specially constructed for them, and would need attention on the voyage. still all this might be managed, and a steward might be paid well to take them under his charge. "well, i will think it over, wilfrid. your idea certainly seems a good one, and if it pays the great horticulturalists to send out skilled men to collect plants for them from all parts of the world, it should certainly pay me, who am living in the centre of one of the most varied groups of vegetation in the world, to send home consignments." ten minutes later they rode into the clearing. a loud whoop of welcome was heard as they appeared, and jack came tearing down from the house to meet them. a moment later marion appeared at the door, and she too came flying towards them. mr. and mrs. renshaw also appeared on the verandah. "i need not ask you how you are, my boy," mr. renshaw said as wilfrid, who had leapt from his horse as marion ran up, hastened forward with her to the house. "your mother has told us so much about your illness that i hardly anticipated seeing you looking a picture of health. mr. atherton, i am delighted to see you. my wife has told me how much we all owe to you both for your care of wilfrid and for having brought him and my wife safely out of the hands of the natives." "i am very glad that i was able to be of some little service, mr. renshaw. it is quite as pleasant, you know, to be able to aid as it is to be aided, so we will look upon the obligation as mutual. wilfrid has invited me to take up my quarters here for a day or two until my shanty is put in order again." "it would be a pleasure to us if you would take up your abode here permanently," mr. renshaw said as mr. atherton dismounted from his horse and the two men rung each other's hands warmly. "jack, take the two horses round to the shed. and now come in. fortunately dinner is just ready, and i have no doubt you are ready too." wilfrid was struck with the change that had come over his father since he had been away. he looked better and stronger than he had ever seen him before, and spoke with a firmness and decision quite new to him. mr. renshaw, finding the whole responsibility of the farm upon his shoulders, had been obliged to put aside his books and to throw himself into the business with vigour. at first the unusual exertion involved by being out all day looking after things had tried him a good deal, but he had gained strength as he went on, and had even come to like the work. the thought that his wife and wilfrid would be pleased to find everything going on well had strengthened him in his determination to stick to it, and marion had, as far as the house work allowed her, been his companion when about the farm, and had done her best to make the evenings cheerful and pleasant. they had had a terribly anxious time of it during the week between the arrival of the news of the massacre at poverty bay and mrs. renshaw's return; but after that their life had gone on quietly, although, until the news of the capture of te kooti's fortress had arrived, they had naturally been anxious about wilfrid's safety. [illustration: "i am afraid i am heavy on a horse still, wilfrid" _page _] "you are looking wonderfully well and sunburnt, father," the lad said as they sat at dinner. "your father has been out from morning until night, wilfrid, managing the farm," mrs. renshaw said with a glad smile, "and i do think the exercise has done him a great deal of good." "i am sure it has, mother," wilfrid agreed. "i am afraid the book has not made much progress, father, since i have been away." "it has made no progress at all, wilfrid, and i do not suppose it ever will. science is all very well when a man can afford to make it his hobby, but i have come to the conclusion that a man has no right to ride a hobby while his family have to work to make a living." "but we were all glad to work, father," wilfrid said. "and now i am back again there is no reason why you should not return to your work." "no, wilfrid. i have been selfish a great deal too long, and indeed, now that i have broken myself into an active life out of doors, i have at present, at anyrate, no inclination to take to the pen again. i feel better than i have done for years, and am astonished myself at the work i can get through. as to my appetite, i eat twice as much as i used to, and really enjoy my food. since the day we heard of the failure of the bank the burden has all been on your shoulders, wilfrid, and your mother's. i am going to take my share of it in the future. as to the book, someone else must write it. i do not suppose it would ever have really paid. i almost wonder now how i could have thought that i out here could have derived any satisfaction from knowing that my work was praised by scientific men at home; besides, to do it properly a man must live among the natives, must travel all over the island and gather the traditions current in every tribe. that i could not do, and if i could have no inclination for it. i have been thinking that i shall ask mr. atherton to teach me a little botany, so that i can enjoy a little more intelligently than i can now do the wonders of our forest." "that i will gladly do, mr. renshaw. i am sure it would add greatly to the enjoyment of your life here to become acquainted with the secrets of the marvellous vegetation around. it is extraordinary to me that men should be content to remain in ignorance of the names of even the principal trees and shrubs that meet their eye at every turn. there is not one settler in a hundred can tell you the names of a score of trees in the island. while i have been away i have tried to get the native names of many of the trees that are mostly to be met with, and only in one or two cases could i get any information, although some of the settlers have been living for years among them." "and now, mr. atherton, about what i was saying just now, do not you think it would be more pleasant for you to erect a fresh hut close to ours instead of living by yourself away in the woods? it would be a great pleasure to all of us to have you with us. your society would brighten our life here. we should have the assistance of your rifle in case the natives broke out again. you would, of course, live with us, but you would have your own hut to retire to when you liked to be alone. what do you say?" "i say that it is a very kind offer, mr. renshaw, and it would certainly be very much more pleasant for me than living out there by myself at the mercy of a native cook. on the condition that you will allow me to pay my share of the expenses of housekeeping i will gladly accept your offer." "the expenses of housekeeping are next to nothing, mr. atherton," mrs. renshaw laughed; "but if you make it a condition we must of course agree to your terms, and you shall be permitted to pay your quota to the expenses of the establishment; but i warn you that the amount will not be a heavy one." "heavy or light, i shall be glad to pay it, mrs. renshaw. the arrangement would be a delightful one for me, for although as a traveller i have necessarily been much alone, i am a gregarious animal, and fond of the company of mankind." and so two days later a party of natives were set to work, and a hut was erected for mr. atherton twenty yards away from the house, and was soon fitted up as his other had been. wilfrid had at once taken up his own work at the farm, but was now his father's right hand, instead of having, as before, everything on his shoulders. the natives in the neighbourhood had now settled down again. from time to time news came that showed that the hau-hau rebellion was almost crushed. colonel whitmore, having finally completely subdued the hau-hau tribes in the north of wellington and taranaki, had marched with a strong force divided into four columns and severely punished all the tribes that had joined te kooti in the north-eastern part of the island. te kooti himself, after perpetrating several other massacres of settlers, was a fugitive, hotly hunted by rapata, who gave him no rest, surprising him several times, and exterminating the last remnants of the band who had escaped with him from the chatham islands. te kooti himself was now believed to be hiding somewhere in the waikato country; but he was no longer dangerous, his schemes had utterly failed, his pretensions had even in the native eyes been altogether discredited, and all who had adhered to him had either been killed or punished by the destruction of their villages and clearings. there was not the slightest chance that he would ever again trouble the community. the settlement on the mohaka river had grown, and in six months after wilfrid's return the whole of the land lying between the allens' farm and mr. mitford's was taken up, and two or three families had settled beyond mr. atherton's holding. at the glade everything went on prosperously--the animals multiplied, the crops were excellent, and, owing to the many settlers arriving and requiring food until they could raise it for themselves, much better prices were obtained for the produce, and it was no longer necessary to ship it to napier or wellington. although mr. atherton had not gone through any such fatigues as those that he had endured at poverty bay, he had continued steadily to decrease in weight. feeling himself so much lighter and more active on the return from the expedition, he had continued to stick to long and regular exercise, and was out every day, with a native to carry his tin collecting-boxes, his presses, axe, and trowel, from breakfast-time until dark. as he steadily refused to take any food with him, and fasted from breakfast-time till supper, the prolonged exercise in the close heat of the woods did its work rapidly, and at the end of a year from the date of his taking up his abode at the glade he could no longer be called a stout man, and new-comers looked with admiration at his broad shoulders and powerful figure. "when i first came to new zealand," he said, "i thought it probable that i should only stay here a few weeks, or at most a few months, and i had a strong doubt whether it would repay my trouble in coming out here. now i am sure that it was the very best step i ever took. i weighed the other day at mitford's, and i did not turn eighteen stone, which is nothing out of the way for a man of my height and size. last time i weighed i pulled down six-and-twenty. when i go back to england i shall stick to my two meals a day, and go in regularly for racquets and horse exercise." "and when is that going to be, mr. atherton?" wilfrid asked. "i have not settled yet, wilfrid. i have been longer stationary here than i have been in any place since i left college. occasionally i get a fit of longing to be back in london again, but it seldom lasts long. however, i suppose i shall yield to it one of these days." "you are doing very well here, mr. atherton. you said only the other day that your consignment of plants had sold wonderfully, and that you expected to make nearly a thousand pounds this year." "that is true enough, wilfrid; but you see, unfortunately or fortunately, whichever way you like to put it, the thousand pounds are of no importance to me one way or the other. i am really what is generally considered to be a rich man, and from the day i left england, now just two years ago, my income has been simply accumulating, for beyond the two or three pounds a month your mother lets me pay her i spend absolutely nothing." "it must be very dull for you here, mr. atherton, accustomed as you have been to be always either travelling or in london, to be cut off from the world with only just our society, and that of the allens and mitfords, and two or three neighbours." "i do not look dull, do i, mrs. renshaw?" mr. atherton laughed. "no; i have never seen you dull since i knew you, mr. atherton, not even when you were toiling along exhausted and worn out with that child on your shoulders and the weight of the helpless man on your arms. we shall miss you awfully when you do go; shall we not, marion?" marion was now nineteen, and had developed, as wilfrid told her in some surprise--for brothers seldom think their sisters good-looking--into a very pretty girl. "it is not coming just yet," mr. atherton said; "but i have, i think, pretty well exhausted the forest for a distance of fifty miles round, and now that things are settling down i shall take more extensive trips to the mountains in the north-east and the waikato country, and the strip of land lying north of auckland. i have never been absent above two or three days at a time; but in future i may be away for weeks. but this will always be my head-quarters, mrs. renshaw. you see, your husband is becoming a formidable rival of mine here, so i must be off to pastures new." "you know he did not want to send things home, mr. atherton. it was only because you insisted that he did so." "i am very glad that i did insist, mrs. renshaw. as you know, i only went into the trade of plants to give me something to do on my rambles besides looking for new species; but i am sure it has been a capital thing for him. he has always been accustomed to use his brain, and although he now takes a lively interest in farm work, he would in time have found a certain void if he had not taken up this new hobby. as it is, it gives him plenty of out-door work, and is not only interesting, but pays well; and now that he is thoroughly acquainted with the botany of this part of the island, and knows which things are worth sending home, and the price he can depend upon getting for them, he will make a far larger income out of it than he could do from farming. wilfrid will be quite capable of looking after the interests of the farm." another year passed. the clearings at the glade had been greatly enlarged; but clumps of bush had been judiciously left so as to preserve its sylvan appearance, the long operation of fencing in the whole property had been accomplished, and the number of horses, cattle, and sheep had so increased that the greater part were now sent to graze on maori land, a small rate per head being paid to the natives. mr. atherton had come and gone many times, and had now almost completed his study of the botany of the island. mr. renshaw had altogether abandoned the management of the farm to wilfrid, and devoted himself entirely to the collection of ferns, orchids, and other plants, receiving handsome cheques in return for the consignment sent to england by each vessel that sailed from wellington or napier. he had agents at each of these towns, who made arrangements with the stewards of the ships for taking care of the plants on their way home, their remuneration being dependent upon the state in which the consignment arrived in england. settlers were now established on both sides of the river for miles above the glade, and as among these were several who had been officers in the army, or professional men who had come out for the benefit of their families, there was now much cheerful society, and the glade occupied the same leading position in that part of the settlement that mr. mitford's had done on the lower river when they first arrived. james allen had now been a year married to the eldest of the miss mitfords. his brother had been decidedly refused by marion when he proposed to her, much to the surprise of her father and mother, who had seen from the frequent visits of their neighbour during the past year how things were going with him, while wilfrid had been quite indignant at her rejection of his friend. "girls are extraordinary creatures," he said to his sister. "i had quite made up my mind for the last six months that you and bob were going to make a match of it, and thought what a jolly thing it would be to have you settled next to us. i am sure i do not know what you want more. you have known him for three years. he is as steady as possible, and safe to get on well, and as nice a fellow as i know." "he is all that, wilfrid, but you see i don't want to marry him. i like him very much in the same way you like him, but i don't like him well enough for that." "oh, i suppose you want a wandering prince in disguise," wilfrid grumbled. "that is the way with girls; they always want something that they cannot get." "my dear wilfrid," marion said with spirit, "when i take to lecturing you as to whom you are to marry it will be quite time for you to take to lecturing me; but until i do i cannot allow that you have any right in the matter." it was seldom indeed that brother and sister differed in opinion about anything, and seeing a tear in marion's eye wilfrid at once gave in and admitted himself to be wrong. "of course it is no business of mine, marion, and i beg your pardon. i am sure i should not wish for a moment that you should marry anyone but the man that you choose for yourself. i should certainly have liked you to have married bob allen, but, if you do not fancy him, of course there is an end of it." this was not the only offer that marion had received during the year, for there were several young settlers who would have been glad to have installed her as the mistress of their homesteads; but they had each met with the same fate that had now befallen bob allen. the next time mr. atherton came back he said, "i have taken my last ramble and gathered my last plant." "what! are you going home?" mrs. renshaw exclaimed. "yes, i am going home," he said more seriously than he usually spoke. "i have been away three years now, and have pretty thoroughly ransacked the island. i have discovered nearly eighty new species of plants and two or three entirely new families, so i have done enough for honour; besides, i am wanted at home. an old aunt has died and has left me a considerable sum of money, just because i had plenty of my own before, i suppose. it is another instance of female perversity. so i have had a letter from my solicitor saying that i am really wanted; but in any case i should have gone now or in another month or two. i begin to feel that i have had enough of wandering, and at thirty-eight it is time to settle down if you are ever going to do so." there was a silence round the table as he ceased speaking, for all felt that the loss would be a serious one, and although mr. atherton had tried to speak lightly they could see that he too felt the approaching end of their close friendship. "are you going to start at once?" mr. renshaw asked. "no, i shall give myself a fortnight or three weeks before i sail. i have all the plants i gathered this time to dry and prepare properly; besides, i should like a quiet stay with you before i say good-bye. you see, i have not seen much of you during the last year." nothing further was said on the subject, which none of them liked to touch on. for the next two days the house seemed strangely quiet. "by the way, what has become of young allen?" mr. atherton said at dinner on the third day. "you told me every one was well, so i suppose he is away from home, as i have not seen him since i came, and he used to be a very regular visitor." there was a momentary silence and then mrs. renshaw said: "i do not think he is away from home, though he may be, for he was talking the other day of looking out for a fresh piece of land for himself. now that his brother is married i suppose it is only natural that he should think of setting up for himself. the farm is of course their joint property, but i suppose they will make some arrangement for his brother to take over his share." "naturally," mr. atherton agreed, "young allen would not care about remaining now that his brother is married. when one of two partners marries it generally breaks up the partnership, and besides, he will of course be wanting to have a place of his own, and the holding is not large enough to divide." after dinner wilfrid strolled out with mr. atherton. "i daresay you saw, mr. atherton, that your question about bob allen fell rather as a bomb-shell among us. there is no reason why you, who are a great friend, should not know the truth. the fact is, to my astonishment, marion has thought proper to refuse bob allen. i was never more surprised in my life. i had always looked upon it as certain that she would accept him, especially as she has refused three or four good offers this year. one never can understand girls." mr. atherton was silent for a minute or two. then he said: "i thought too, wilfrid, that it would have come off. i have always thought so. well, well." then after a pause he went on: "i had intended to go over in the morning to see him. i like the lad, and had an idea of offering to advance him a sum of money to set up in a place of his own without loss of time. then the young couple would have had a fair start in life without having to wait two or three years or to go through the rough work at the first start in a settler's life. the money would of course have been nothing to me, and it would have been satisfactory to have lent a helping hand towards seeing your sister married and happy. and so she has refused him. well, i will take a turn by myself, wilfrid." and to the young fellow's surprise mr. atherton turned off and started at a brisk pace up the glade. "he is evidently as vexed at marion's throwing over bob allen as i am," wilfrid said to himself as he looked after him. "i wish he would give her a good talking to, she would think more of his opinion than she does of mine." chapter xviii. in england. "i suppose you have not settled yet as to what ship you will return by, atherton?" mr. renshaw asked as the party were gathered in the verandah in the evening. "no," mr. atherton replied, absently watching the smoke of his cigar as it curled up, "nothing is at all settled; my plans seem to be quite vague now." "what do you mean, mr. atherton?" mrs. renshaw asked in surprise, for mr. atherton's plans were generally mapped out very decidedly. "how is it that your plans are vague? i thought you said two days ago that you should go down to wellington about the th." "i did not mean to say that they were vague, mrs. renshaw; did i really say so?" "why, of course you did," mrs. renshaw said; "and it is not often that you are vague about anything." "that shows that you do not understand my character, mrs. renshaw," mr. atherton said in his usual careless manner. "i am the vaguest of men--a child of chance, a leaf blown before the wind." wilfrid laughed. "it would have taken a very strong wind when we first knew you." "i am speaking metaphorically, wilfrid. i am at london, and the idea occurs to me to start for the amazon and botanize there for a few months. i pack up and start the next morning. i get there and do not like the place, and say to myself it is too hot here, let me study the arctic flora at spitzbergen. if i act upon an idea promptly, well and good, but if i allow any time to elapse between the idea striking me and my carrying the thing into execution, there is never any saying whether i may not go off in an entirely different groove during the interval." "and is there any chance of your going off in any other groove now, atherton?" mr. renshaw asked. "no, i think not; just a remote possibility perhaps, but not more than that. it is so indefinitely small, indeed, that you may--yes, i think you may safely calculate upon my starting on the day i said, or if i find a ship at wellington going on a trading excursion among the islands, or up to the straits, or to japan, i may likely enough take a passage in her." "but i thought you said that your business required you to be at home, mr. atherton?" "yes, i suppose that is so, wilfrid; but i daresay my solicitor would manage it just as well if i did not turn up. solicitors are people who, as far as i can see, consider it their duty to bother you, but if they find that you pay no attention to their letters they manage somehow or other to get on very well without you. i believe they go into a court and make affidavits, and get an order authorizing them to sign for you. i do not know how it generally is done, but that is my experience of them so far." marion had said little that evening, and had indeed been very quiet for the last few days. she was somewhat indignant at wilfrid's interference in what she considered her affairs, and felt that although her father and mother had said nothing, they too were somewhat disappointed, and would have been glad had she accepted bob allen. besides she had reasons of her own for being out of spirits. after breakfast the next morning mr. atherton said: "marion, when you have finished your domestic duties and can be spared, suppose you put on your hat and come for a ramble with me." there was nothing unusual in the request, for the girl often accompanied him in his rambles when he was not going far into the forest. "i shall be ready in half an hour, if your highness can wait so long." "i am in no hurry, child, and will smoke a pipe on the verandah until you are ready." marion always enjoyed these walks with mr. atherton. he was at all times a pleasant companion, and when alone with her always exerted himself to amuse her, though he sometimes vexed her by talking to her as if she were a child. to-day he was much more silent than usual, and more than once she looked up in wonder at his face as he walked along puffing at his pipe, with his hands deep in his jacket pockets and his eyes bent on the ground. "a penny for your thoughts, mr. atherton," she said at last with a laugh. "it seems to me that you would have got on just as well without me." "well, i was just thinking that i was a fool to ask you to come with me, child." marion opened her eyes in surprise. "you see, my dear," he went on, "we all make fools of ourselves sometimes. i started in life by making a fool of myself. i fell in love with a woman whom i thought perfection. she was an arrant flirt, and was only amusing herself with me till she hooked a young lord for whom she was angling. that was what sent me roaming for the first time; and, as you know, having once started i have kept it up ever since, that is till i came out here. i had intended to stay six months; i have been here three years. why have i stopped so long? simply, child, because i have again made a fool of myself. i do not think i was conscious of it for the first two years, and it was only when i saw, as i thought, that young allen would win you, that i recognized that i, a man of thirty-seven, was fool enough to love a child just eighteen years younger than myself. at the same time i was not fool enough to think that i had the smallest chance. i could not stop here and watch another winning you, and at the same time i was so weak that i could not go away altogether; and so you see i compromised matters by going away for weeks and sometimes months at a time, returning with the expectation each time of hearing that it was settled. now i hear that you have refused him, and, just as a drowning man grasps at a straw, i resolved to have my fate absolutely settled before i sail. don't be afraid of saying 'no,' dear. i have never for a moment looked for any other answer, but i think that i would rather have the 'no' than go away without it, for in after years i might be fool enough to come to think that possibly, just possibly, the answer, had i asked the question, might have been 'yes.'" he had stopped in his walk when he began to speak, and stood facing marion, who had not raised her eyes while he was speaking. then she looked frankly up in his face. "do you think i did not know," she said softly, "and didn't you really know too? you are not so wise a man as i thought you. why, ever since i have known you it seems to me that--that--" "that you have loved me, marion; is it possible?" he said taking her hand. "of course it is possible," she said almost pettishly "how could i help it, i should like to know?" dinner had been waiting for some time before mr. atherton and his companion returned from their ramble. "twenty minutes late!" wilfrid shouted as they approached the house; "have you been losing yourselves in the bush?" "i think that it has been just the other way, wilfrid," mr. atherton said as he came up to the group gathered in the verandah. "how do you mean?" wilfrid asked. "i mean we have been finding each other." "finding each other," wilfrid repeated vaguely. "why, were you both lost?" "i was, wilfrid. mrs. renshaw, i have found your daughter, and am going, with your permission and that of her father, to keep her. i am a good bit older than she is, but as she says she does not mind that, i hope that you will not, and at least i can promise to do all in my power to make her happy." "i am surprised, mr. atherton; surprised and glad too," mrs. renshaw said, while mr. renshaw grasped mr. atherton's hand and shook it heartily. "my dear sir, there is no one in the world to whom i could intrust marion's happiness so gladly and heartily. i own that it is a surprise to me, as well as to her mother, but we are both delighted at the choice she has made." by this time marion and her mother had gone indoors together. wilfrid had not yet spoken, his surprise was still too great for words. "well, wilfrid," mr. atherton said, turning to him, "i hope your disapproval of marion's conduct on this occasion is not so great as it was when you were talking to me yesterday." "i hardly know what to say yet, you have taken me so by surprise; but i am awfully glad--you know that, don't you? there is no one in the world i should like marion to marry so much, only somehow it never occurred to me." "that is natural enough, wilfrid. however, now that it has occurred to you, and you approve of it, we must hope that marion will be restored to your good graces again." "i have been making an ass of myself," wilfrid said penitently; "but you believe that i am awfully glad, don't you? i was disappointed about bob, but then, you see, i never thought about you. why, you must know, mr. atherton, what i think of you and how i care for you, and how i look up to you. somehow it never seemed possible to me that a man like you could fall in love." "and much more improbable still, wilfrid, that your sister would fall in love with me. i understand you, lad. we have been very close friends for the last three years, haven't we? i have been something like a very big and very old brother to you, and now we are going to be brothers in earnest;" and their hands closed in a grip that spoke volumes for the sincerity and depth of their feelings. then wilfrid ran into the house and threw his arms round his sister. "i have been an awful fool, marion," he said; "but you see, i never dreamt of this." "and you are really pleased, wilfrid?" "pleased! i am delighted. why, you know, i think he is the finest fellow in the world; and has he not done everything for us, and stood by me and nursed me, and carried me for miles, and saved mother's life and mine? but it never entered my mind that you had fallen in love with each other." "i do not know why it shouldn't, wilfrid. why shouldn't i think as much of him as you do?" "i do not know, i am sure, marion; but i confess i never did think of it. did you, mother?" "once or twice, wilfrid. about a year ago it did cross my mind once or twice, but that was all. they say mothers are keen-sighted as far as their daughters are concerned; but either i am less keen-sighted than mothers in general, or marion is deeper than other girls." "well, mother, we shall have lots of time to talk this over," wilfrid said. "dinner has been waiting nearly an hour, and even this wonderful business cannot have taken away all our appetites. everything is ready; shall i call them in?" wilfrid had, however, still a few minutes to wait, for the two men were engaged in earnest conversation outside. when they came in at last mr. renshaw kissed his daughter fondly. "god bless you, my child!" he said. "you have made a wise choice indeed, and i am sure that you will be a very happy woman." it was a quiet meal, for all were too happy to talk much. after it was over the two men strolled out together and renewed their conversation, and mr. renshaw presently called to his wife to join them. marion had gone to her room, and wilfrid was about to start to the other end of the farm when mr. atherton called him. "come and join our consultation, wilfrid. you are as much concerned in it as any of us, and i rely upon your assistance to bring round these two very obstinate people to my side of the question. i should say our side, for of course marion is one with me in the matter. you see, i am a rich man, wilfrid--really a rich man, and i naturally wish that marion should be made as happy as possible. i do not think she would be as happy as possible if she were in england with me, with a nice place in the country, and a town-house, and most things that money could bring her, if she knew that her father and mother were out here living a life which, although they have admirably adapted themselves to it, is yet very different to that to which they have been all their lives accustomed. "now, owing to this absurd freak of my aunt in making me her heir when my income was already five times as much as i could spend, i have the nuisance of a large landed estate on my hands. there is a large house upon it which i suppose marion and i will have to occupy occasionally; and there is another house, which is known as the dower house, and which is a very snug and comfortable abode. now, it is quite clear that i am the last sort of man to look after an estate. it would worry me most out of my mind, and would be a perpetual annoyance. "what i propose is that your father and mother shall come home and take possession of the dower house, and that your father should act as my agent. living on the spot, he would be able to keep an eye on the tenants, receive rents, and that sort of thing, and still be able to devote a considerable portion of his time to his favourite pursuits. i should have the advantage of having an agent i could absolutely rely upon, and marion and i would have the comfort of having her father and mother close at hand. it would be a little lonely for you for a bit, wilfrid; but you are nearly nineteen now, and will, unless i am mistaken, ere many years have passed be bringing a mistress to the glade. i fancy you go over to mitford's a good deal oftener than there is any absolute occasion for, and although kate is only sixteen yet, i have a shrewd suspicion that you have both pretty well made up your minds about the future." wilfrid coloured and laughed. "i don't know that we are as far advanced as that; but i do hope that some day it may be as you say. but about this other affair. what do my father and mother say? it seems to me it would be a splendid arrangement." "of course it would, wilfrid; a splendid arrangement, for marion and me especially. that is what i am trying to persuade them; but your mother has developed quite a new line of obstinacy, and your father is just as bad." "don't you see, wilfrid," mrs. renshaw said with tears in her eyes, "it is only an excuse on mr. atherton's--" "harry, my dear madam, harry," mr. atherton interrupted. "we have arranged it is to be harry in future." "on harry's part," mrs. renshaw went on, "to provide an income for us." "but i have got to provide an income for someone," mr. atherton said. "there must be an agent to look after the property for me; necessarily that agent must have a salary; and why in the name of good sense should not your husband be that agent as well as anyone else?" "but you are offering a great deal too high a salary," mr. renshaw urged. "you could get an excellent agent for less than half the sum you are talking about." "not at all," mr. atherton replied; "i must have a gentleman, both for my own sake and that of the tenants, and to get a gentleman of high character and perfectly trustworthy, i must necessarily pay him a good salary. i shall be a good deal in town, and my representative must therefore be able to occupy a good position in the county; besides, as i have told you, my income now, with this absurd addition, amounts to something like six thousand a year. why, in the name of goodness, should i not be allowed, if i choose, to pay two or three hundred a year over market price to my agent when it will afford my wife the gratification of having her parents near her, and me the pleasure of having two dear friends as my next neighbours. besides, the glade will not be a bit too large for you when you marry, wilfrid, and in that case either you will have to start in a fresh place and begin all your work over again, or your father would have to turn out to make room for you. i consider it preposterous. what do you say, wilfrid?" "i do think it would be a splendid arrangement, mother," wilfrid answered. "you know well enough that i shall be very sorry to lose you and father; but it would be awfully nice for marion, and i do think that though, as mr. atherton says, you and father have fallen in splendidly with your life here, the other would be in every way better suited to you. i can understand your feelings in the matter; but the same time i think that after mr. atherton having saved your life and mine, his feelings and wishes should influence you very much." "if you hesitate any longer," mr. atherton said, "i shall go in and fetch marion out. i have not told her about my plan yet, for in fact we had other things to talk about; but when i tell her, and she adds her voice to ours, i am sure you will not be able to refuse any longer." mrs. renshaw exchanged a look with her husband. "it is not necessary," she said in a broken voice. "we accept, harry." "that is right," mr. atherton said as he wrung mr. renshaw's hand warmly, and then affectionately kissed mrs. renshaw. "now we are going to be a very happy and united family. now, go in and tell marion." "tell her yourself," mrs. renshaw smiled, wiping her eyes; and mr. atherton took his way to the house. marion was indeed delighted with the news. the thought of leaving her mother and father behind had been the one drawback to her happiness. she had been her mother's right hand and her father's companion. she had thought how terribly they would miss her, and how, as years went on, they would, far more than now, feel the difference between their present life and that they had formerly led. the news that they would be always near her and settled in a comfortable home filled her with delight. a few minutes after mr. atherton entered the house she ran out to her father and mother and threw her arms fondly around them. "is it not happiness, mother," she cried, "to think that we shall still be together?" "if you are not a happy woman, child, it will be your own fault," her father said. "i consider you a marvellously lucky girl." "as if i did not know that!" she replied, laughing through her tears. mr. atherton did not sail quite so soon as he had intended. a church had recently been erected at the central settlement, and a clergyman established there, and a month after matters were settled between him and marion their wedding was celebrated, almost every settler on the mohaka being present. the newly-married couple returned to the glade for a week, mr. and mrs. renshaw and wilfrid remaining as the guests of mr. mitford. at the end of that time they returned, and with mr. and mrs. renshaw sailed for napier, where they took ship for england. "what would you have done if i had sailed away for england without ever mustering up courage to speak to you, marion?" mr. atherton said as he stood by the bulwark with her that evening taking their last look at new zealand. "i should not have let you go, sir," his wife said saucily; "didn't i know that you cared for me, and had i not refused all sorts of offers for your sake? i don't know what i should have done, or what i should have said, but i am quite sure i should not have let you go unless i found that i had been making a mistake all along. it would have been ridiculous indeed to have sacrificed the happiness of two lives merely because you had some absurd ideas about your age." "i never thought you cared for me, marion, never." "that is because you never took the trouble to find out," his wife retorted. "men are foolish creatures sometimes, even the wisest of them." marion atherton's life was one of almost perfect happiness. mr. atherton entirely gave up his wanderings abroad, and by dint of devotion to racquets and tennis in summer, and of hunting and shooting in winter, he kept down his tendency towards corpulence. he was an energetic magistrate, and one of the most popular men in the county. mr. renshaw resumed his former studies in archæology, but they were now the amusement instead of being the object of his life, and he made an excellent agent to his son-in-law. standing in the relation he did to mr. and mrs. atherton, he and mrs. renshaw shared in their popularity, and occupied a good position in the county. three years after their return to england they received the news that kate mitford had changed her name, and was installed as mistress at the glade. every five years wilfrid and his wife, and as time went on his family, paid a visit to england. he became one of the leading men of the colony. a few years after his marriage mr. and mrs. mitford had returned to england for good, and james allen and wilfrid succeeded to his business as a trader, and carried it on with energy and success, mr. atherton advancing wilfrid sufficient capital to enable them to extend their business largely. in time the glade became wilfrid's summer residence only, the head-quarters of the firm being established at napier. it is now conducted by his sons, he himself having returned home with his wife and daughters with a fortune amply sufficient to enable them to live at ease. marion was pleased when, two years after her arrival in england, she heard from wilfrid that bob allen had married the daughter of an officer settled on the mohaka. the grimstones both did well, and became prosperous farmers. jack remained in wilfrid's service until he left the colony, and is now a trusted agent of his sons in their dealings with the natives. * * * * * printed and bound in great britain _by blackie & son, limited, glasgow_ waihoura, the maori girl, by w.h.g. kingston. ________________________________________________________________________ ________________________________________________________________________ waihoura, the maori girl, by w.h.g. kingston. chapter one. the new colony. arrival of the families of mr pemberton, farmer greening and others, in new zealand.--inspect land.--encamp near the port till they can settle on the land they have selected. a fine emigrant ship, her voyage happily terminated, had just entered her destined port in the northern island of new zealand. her anchor was dropped, the crew were aloft furling sails, and several boats were alongside ready to convey the passengers to the shore. all was bustle and excitement on board, each person anxious to secure his own property,--and people were running backwards and forwards into the cabins, to bring away any minor articles which might have been forgotten. the water was calm and bright, the sky intensely blue. on either hand were bold picturesque headlands running out into the sea, fringed by dark rocks, while beyond the sandy beach, which bordered the bay, on a partially cleared space, were seen numerous cottages, interspersed with tents and huts, many of the latter rudely constructed of boughs. further off arose forests of tall trees, reaching to the base, and climbing the sides of a range of high mountains, here and there broken by deep ravines, with sparkling streams rushing down them, finding their way into a broad river which flowed into the bay. beyond the first range appeared others--range beyond range, the summits of several towering to the sky, covered with mantles of snow shining with dazzling whiteness in the bright rays of the sun. in several places the forest gave way to wide open tracts, clothed with fern or tall waving grass. "here we are safe at last," exclaimed valentine pemberton, a young gentleman about eighteen, as he stepped from one of the first boats on to the ledge of rocks which formed the chief landing-place of the settlement. "father, let me help you," he added, extending his arm towards a middle-aged fine-looking man who followed him. "now, lucy, take my hand; the rocks are somewhat slippery. harry, you can look out for yourself." he addressed his young sister, a fair sweet-looking girl of about fifteen, and his brother, a fine active boy, who sprang on to the rock after him. "take care of betsy, though," said lucy, not forgetful of her faithful maid, whose attachment to her young mistress had induced to leave home for a strange land. "paul greening is helping her," answered harry. mr pemberton, with his daughter and two sons, soon made their way to the more even beach, followed by betsy and paul greening. paul's father, farmer greening, a sturdy english yeoman, with his wife and two younger sons, james and little tobias, as the latter was called, though as big as his brothers, were the next to land. "my boys and i will look after your things, mr pemberton," shouted the farmer. "do you go and find lodgings for miss lucy and betsy." "thank you, my friend," said mr pemberton, "but we have made up our mind to rough it, and purpose camping out under tents until we can get a roof of our own over our heads. before we begin work, however, i wish to return thanks to him who has guided and protected us during our voyage across the ocean. will you and your family join us?" "aye, gladly sir," answered farmer greening. "we are ready enough to be angry with those who are thankless to us when we have done them a kindness, and i have often thought how ungrateful we are apt to be to him who gives us everything we enjoy in this life." mr pemberton led the way to a sheltered spot, where they were concealed by some high rocks from the busy throng on the beach. he there, with his own children and the farmer's family, knelt down and offered a hearty thanksgiving to the merciful god who had heretofore been their friend and guide, and a fervent prayer for protection from future dangers. then, with cheerful hearts and strong hands, they returned to the boat, to assist in landing their goods and chattels, while valentine and paul went back to the ship to bring off the remainder of the luggage. mr pemberton and farmer greening, meantime, set off to get the surveying officer to point out a plot of ground on which they might encamp, the rest of the party remaining on the beach to look after their property. while they were thus employed, a bustling little man, in a green velveteen shooting coat, approached lucy, who, with betsy and mrs greening were removing the lighter articles of their baggage. underneath a broad-brimmed hat, which he wore far back on his bullet-like head, covered with short cropped hair, appeared a pair of round eyes, and a funny turned up nose. "oh, miss pemberton, i am shocked to see you so employed!" he exclaimed. "let me assist you. my own things will not be brought on shore to-day, i am told, and i have no wish to go on board the ship again to look for them." "thank you, mr nicholas spears," said lucy, who had already discovered that the little man was never happy unless attending other people's concerns, to the neglect of his own, and had no wish to encourage him in his bad habit. "my brother harry and our friends here can do all that is necessary." "oh, i beg ten thousand pardons, miss lucy, but i thought that i could be of use to you. it would be such a pleasure, believe me." mr nicholas spears rolled his round eyes about, and twitched his mouth in such a curious manner when he spoke, that lucy could scarcely refrain from laughing outright. "if you don't look after your own property, mr spears, i don't think anybody else will," observed mrs greening. "just let me advise you to go back in the first boat, and see if any of your goods have been got out of the hold, or they may be sent on shore, and you will not know what have become of them." the little man seemed very unwilling to follow this wise counsel, but hearing his name called by some of the other emigrants, he hurried away to join them, and was seen running up and down the beach, carrying their boxes and parcels. most of the other passengers had now come on shore, and were busily employed in looking after their property, and conveying it from the beach. valentine and paul had just returned with the remainder of their goods, and soon afterwards mr pemberton and farmer greening returned, accompanied by four dark-skinned men, dressed in shirts and trousers, the few tattoo marks on their faces, and the shaggy state of their black hair, showing them to be of the lower order of natives. they brought also a small dray, drawn by bullocks, with which to transport the heavier articles of their luggage. "wherever you go, mr pemberton, with your leave, i and mine will go too," said farmer greening, as they walked along. "we have been neighbours in the old country, and you have ever been a kind friend to me, and if i can be of any use to you in choosing land, which i ought to know something about, why, you see, sir, it's just what i shall be glad to do." mr pemberton knew the value of the farmer's friendship and assistance too well to decline it, and thanked him heartily. he had himself gone through many trials. after enjoying a good fortune derived from west indian property, and living the life of a country gentleman, he found himself, at the time he was about to send his eldest son to the university, and his second boy into the navy, deprived of nearly the whole of his income. soon afterwards he lost his wife, a far greater blow to his happiness, and believing that he could best provide for his children by emigrating to one of the colonies, with the small remainder of his fortune, he had embarked with them for new zealand. a cleared space on some rising ground overlooking the harbour had been selected for encamping. to this the property of the party was soon conveyed. mr pemberton had brought with him two tents, the largest of which served as a store-house for his goods, and there was also space in it for beds for himself and his sons, while a much smaller one was appropriated to the use of lucy and betsy, which lucy had invited mrs greening to share with them. the farmer and his sons, with the assistance of the maoris, as the new zealanders are called, were putting up a hut in which they might find shelter till the land they had purchased had been fixed on. it was composed simply of stakes driven into the ground, interwoven with branches of trees, beams being secured to the top, while other branches were placed on them and thatched with long grass, an operation quickly performed by the maoris. before dark it was in a sufficiently forward state to afford shelter to the farmer and his sons,--some heaps of fern, brought in by their active assistants, serving them for beds. while the pakehas, the strangers, as the natives call the english, slept at one end, the four maoris occupied the other. before they lay down to rest mr pemberton invited them into his tent to join in family worship, a practice he had kept up during the voyage, and hoped in future to maintain under all circumstances. "it's a great blessing and advantage, miss lucy, to be associated with a gentleman like the squire," said mrs greening, when they returned to their tent. "my boys especially might be inclined to run wild in this strange country, if they hadn't the good example he sets before them." "we, i am sure, shall be a mutual help to each other, mrs greening," answered lucy. "your husband's practical experience in farming will greatly assist my father and brothers, and i was truly thankful when i heard that you wished to settle near us." "we know what it is to have bad land, with a high rent to pay," observed mrs greening with a sigh, "and i hope, now that we are to have a farm of our own, with a kind soil, we shall get on better than we did in the old country. few are ready to work harder than my good man and our boys, and i have never been used to be idle since i was big enough to milk a cow." the following day mr pemberton and the farmer, accompanied by valentine and paul, prepared to set off, with one of the maoris as a guide, to inspect a block of land lately surveyed, about ten miles from the coast, with a fine stream flowing through it. before starting they surveyed from the hill the road they were to take. at a short distance appeared the outskirts of the forests, composed of the lofty kauri, or yellow pine, kahikatea, or white pine, the rimu, with its delicate and gently weeping foliage, and several others, interspersed by the shade-loving tree-fern, the most graceful of all forest trees. from the boughs hung parasites and creepers of brilliant hues,--some, like loose ropes from the rigging of a ship, others, in festoons winding from stem to stem, uniting far-off trees with their luxuriant growth. "how shall you be able to pass through that thick forest?" asked lucy, of her father. "we shall have to make good use of our axes, i suppose," said valentine. "we shall find but little difficulty," observed mr pemberton. "although the foliage is so dense overhead, there is no jungle or underwood to obstruct our passage, and in this hot weather we shall have the advantage of travelling thoroughly shaded from the rays of the sun. we shall find it far more fatiguing walking over the fern land, which, at a distance, looks so smooth and even." mr pemberton took his fowling-piece; but the only weapons carried by the rest of the party were their axes, to mark the trees round the land they hoped to select. they expected not to be absent more than three days. lucy and harry accompanied them a short distance. they found, on their return, mrs greening busily employed with her sons in arranging the hut,--indeed, the good woman was never idle, and set an example of industry which some of the other settlers would have done wisely to follow. leaving her boys to go on with the work, she commenced making preparations for dinner. "you must let me act as your cook, miss lucy," she said. "you and betsy will have enough to do, and it's what i am used to." the cooking, however, was of necessity somewhat after the gipsy fashion, a pot being hung from a triangle over a fire on the ground, and when the pot was removed the tea-kettle took its place. they had no difficulty in procuring provisions, as there were several bakers in the village, and the maoris brought in pigs and wild-fowl, and various roots and vegetables to the market. chapter two. waihoura. natives arrive at mr pemberton's camp.--they bring with them on a litter a young girl--waihoura apparently very ill.--a doctor is sent for, and a hut is built for her accommodation. "oh mother! mother! miss lucy! betsy! do look at the strange savages who are coming this way," exclaimed little tobias, as he rushed up to the door of the tent the following morning. "i never did see such wild creatures, except once at the fair, and they were white men painted up to make believe they had come from foreign parts. there's no doubt about these, though." lucy and her companions being thus summoned, hurried from the tent and joined harry and the two young greenings, who were standing on the brow of the hill, watching a band of twenty or thirty maoris, who, emerging from the forest, were coming towards where they stood. at their head stalked a tall savage-looking warrior. his face, as he drew near, was seen to be thickly covered with blue lines, some in spirals, others in circles and curls of various devices. his black hair was gathered in a knot at the top of his head, and secured with a polished bone, while several large rings hung from his ears. over his shoulders was thrown a large mat cloak, which almost completely enveloped his form. in one hand he carried a musket, more on the present occasion to add to his dignity than for use, as swords were formerly worn by gentlemen in europe. his companions had their faces tattooed, though in a much less degree than was that of their leader. some wore merely long kilts round their waists, but many had cloaks of matting. the hair of most of them was cut short, looking like a black mop at the top of their heads. savages though they looked, they walked with a dignity and freedom that showed they felt their own consequence and independence. they were followed by several women, also clothed in mats, though of a finer texture than those of the men. their hair hung loosely over their shoulders, and several wore a wreath of flowers or shells, which assisted to keep it off their eyes. their faces were but slightly tattooed, the chin, and lips only being marked, giving the latter a curious blue look, which lucy thought detracted much from their otherwise comely appearance. they were walking on either side of a small litter, covered with boughs, and carried by four young men. the party of natives advanced as if about to ascend the hill; but when the chief saw that it was occupied by the tents, he ordered them to halt at its base, and they immediately began to make preparations for encamping, while the young men were sent off towards the woods to collect fuel for the fires and materials for building huts. the litter having been placed on the ground, the women gathered round it, as if much interested in whatever it contained. the chief himself then approached, and the boughs being partially removed, lucy perceived that its occupant was a young girl. the chief seemed to be speaking to her with tender interest. at length, on seeing lucy and her companions watching him, he advanced towards them. "oh! miss lucy, let's run away--the savage is coming, and i don't know what he will do," cried betsy, in great alarm. "i am sure he will not hurt us, from the gentle way he was speaking to the young girl," said lucy, holding her ground, though she felt a little nervous. "he looks terribly fierce, though," observed mrs greening. "but it won't do to run away, as if we were afraid." the chief, whose eye had been fixed on lucy, now approached her, and pointing to the litter, seemed to invite her to come down and speak to his daughter, for such she felt the girl must be. "oh miss, don't go," cried betsy. "you don't know what they will do;" but lucy, struck by the appearance of the occupant of the litter, was eager to learn more about her, and overcoming any fears she might have felt, at once accompanied the chief. the women made way for her as she got close to the litter. on it reclined, propped up by matting, which served as a pillow, a girl apparently of about her own age. her complexion was much fairer than that of any of her companions, scarcely darker, indeed, than a spanish or italian brunette. no tattoo marks disfigured her lips or chin; her features were regular and well-formed, and her eyes large and clear, though at present their expression betokened that she was suffering pain. she put out her hand towards lucy, who instinctively gave her her's. "maori girl ill, berry ill," she said. "tell pakeha doctor come, or waihoura die--pakeha doctor make waihoura well." although the words may not have been so clearly pronounced as they have been written, lucy at once understood their meaning. "oh yes, i will send for a doctor," she answered, hoping that dr fraser, the surgeon who came out with them in the ship, would be found on shore. she beckoned to harry, and told him to run and bring dr fraser without delay. the chief comprehended her intentions, and seemed well pleased when harry and tobias, who also offered to go, set off towards the village. as no one addressed her, lucy guessed rightly that the maori girl was the only person of her party who could speak english, and curious to know how she had learned it, she asked the question. "waihoura learn speak pakeha tongue of missionary," she answered, "but near forget now," and she put her hand to her brow, as if it ached. "the doctor will come soon, i hope, and give you medicine to make you better," said lucy, taking the young girl's hand, which felt hot and feverish. waihoura shook her head, and an expression of pain passed across her countenance. "we will pray to god, then, to make you well," said lucy. "he can do everything, so be not cast down, but trust him." the maori girl fixed her large eyes on her as she was speaking, evidently trying to understand her meaning, though apparently she did not entirely comprehend it. savage in appearance as were the people who surrounded her, lucy did not feel afraid of them, while they evidently regarded her with much respect. betsy having at length gained courage, came down the hill with mrs greening. "poor dear," said the farmer's wife, when she saw the maori girl. "what she wants is good food, a comfortable bed, and a little careful nursing. if we had our house up, i'll be bound we would bring her round in the course of a few weeks, so that that painted-faced gentleman, her father, would not know her again." "we would make room for her in our tent," said lucy. "or, perhaps, her friends would build a hut for her close to it; they probably would soon put one up, and it would be far better for her to remain with us than to return to her home." the chief had been watching them while they were speaking, and seemed to understand that they were discussing some plan for his daughter's benefit. he spoke a few words to her. "what say?" she asked, looking at lucy, and then pointing to her father. "we wish you to stop here and let us nurse you," said lucy, trying still further to explain her meaning by signs. the young girl's countenance brightened, showing that she understood what lucy had said, and wished to accept her offer. perhaps the remembrance of her stay with the missionary's family brought some pleasing recollections to her mind. while they were still speaking, a person was seen hurrying along the somewhat dusty road which led from the village, and lucy soon recognised mr nicholas spears. "has not he come yet?" he exclaimed, as he drew near. "dr fraser, i mean. i met master harry, and that big lout tobias. i beg your pardon, mrs greening. i did not see you were there, and so i told them i would find him and send him on; so i did, for i understood from them that a princess, or some great person, wanted his services. if he has not come i must go back and hurry him. is that the princess? she don't look much like one, however, she may be a princess for all that. your servant, miss, and that old gentleman, with the curious marks on his face, is her father, i suppose? your servant, sir," he added, making the chief a bow with his broad-brimmed hat. the chief bent his head in acknowledgment, and seemed somewhat inclined to rub noses with the little man as a further sign of his good-will; but mr spears sprang back in alarm, evidently thinking it safer to keep at a distance from the savage-looking warrior; observing, however, the confidence shown by lucy and her companions, he walked round them once or twice, gazing at them as if they had been wild beasts at a show. as he passed again near lucy, she reminded him of his promise to look for dr fraser, and much to her satisfaction, off he set at full speed. in a short time the doctor was seen coming along the road, followed by harry and tobias. "oh, dr fraser, i am so glad you are come," said lucy. "here is a sweet interesting maori girl, and she is very ill, i fear. can you do anything for her?" "i am afraid, miss lucy, unless she can speak english, or we have an efficient interpreter, there may be some difficulty in ascertaining her disease, but i will do my best." "oh, she understands a little english," said lucy, "and seems very intelligent." the doctor approached the litter, and stooping down, remained some time by the girl's side, asking her questions, and endeavouring to comprehend her answers. "unless i can have her for some time as my patient, i fear, miss pemberton, that i cannot do much for her," he said at length. "my lodgings are very small, and i suspect that among the settlers there are none who would be willing to receive her." lucy then told him of the plan she and mrs greening had proposed. "that would certainly afford the best prospect of her recovery," he answered. "if we can explain that to her friends, perhaps they would be willing to allow her to remain." lucy was very glad to hear this, for she already felt a deep interest in the young maori girl. "there is her father," said lucy, pointing to the chief, "perhaps you can make him understand what we propose." "i will try," said dr fraser, "but, if not, i must get mr clifton, the surveyor, who speaks their language, to explain it to him." the chief, who had been looking on all the time with an expression of anxiety visible on his stern countenance, now drew near, and with the assistance of his daughter, was made to comprehend what their new friends proposed. he stopped some time, apparently considering the matter, and then having consulted with several of his companions, he returned, and taking lucy's hand, placed it in that of waihoura, as if confiding her to her care. "but we must make them understand that they must build her a comfortable house," said lucy. this the doctor managed to do without much difficulty, and leading the chief up the hill, showed the position in which he wished it to be placed. the natives, who appeared to render implicit obedience to their chief, immediately went off to cut timber. the doctor, meantime, marked the dimensions of the building, and showed the height he desired to have it, which was nearly three times that of the ordinary native huts. "we must have a proper door and a couple of windows, too," he remarked. "the poor girl requires fresh air more than anything else, probably she has been shut up in the smoke and heat of a native hut, and unless we have one of a very different character, she will have little chance of recovery." idle and averse to work, as lucy heard that the maoris were, she was pleased to see the rapid way in which they erected the hut. while some dug the holes for the posts, and others cut them down, a third party brought them up the hill. they were evidently surprised at the size of the building, and uttered numerous exclamations of astonishment when the doctor made them understand that it must be in no respect smaller than he proposed. harry, with james and tobias, got their spades and levelled the ground for the floor, rendering considerable assistance also in digging the holes. among the articles mr pemberton had brought were several doors and window sashes, intended for his own cottage. lucy suggested that these should be unpacked, and a door and two windows be used for the hut. "i am sure that my father will not object," she said, "and it will make the house much more comfortable." "i wish that all our countrymen had as much consideration for the natives as you show, miss lucy," observed the doctor, "and i feel sure mr pemberton will approve of what you propose doing." the door and two windows were accordingly fixed, the maoris showing themselves very expert carpenters. the doctor having seen that the plan he proposed for the house was likely to be properly carried out, returned to the town to get some medicine, while mrs greening arranged a comfortable english bed, in which his patient might be placed. before nightfall the hut was completely finished. mrs greening removed her own bedding to it, that, as she said, she could be at hand to attend to the young native girl; and dr fraser having given her some medicine, took his departure, promising to come back, early the next morning. the chief showed by his manner the perfect confidence he placed in his new friends, and leaving his daughter in their charge, he and his companions retired to the foot of the hill, where they spent the night round their camp fire. lucy sat for some time by the side of waihoura, who showed no inclination to go to sleep; she evidently was astonished at finding herself in an english bed, and watched over by a fair pakeha girl instead of her own dark-skinned people. she talked on for some time, till at length her words grew more and more indistinct, and closing her eyes, to lucy's satisfaction, she fell asleep. "now, do you go back to your tent," said mrs greening. "i'll look after the little girl, and if i hear any noise i'll be up in a moment and call you or betsy; but don't be fancying you will be wanted, the little girl will do well enough, depend on that." lucy very unwillingly retired to her tent, and was much surprised when she awoke to find that it was already daylight. chapter three. in camp. dr fraser arrives with mr marlow, a missionary, who recognises waihoura.--he persuades her father to allow her to remain.--return of mr pemberton, who has selected his land, and begins to settle on it.-- the farm described.--he leaves them again for it accompanied by mr spears.--waihoura recovers and learns english, while lucy learns maori.--a vessel arrives with sheep, some of which the doctor buys, and are looked after by toby.--lucy tries to explain the gospel to waihoura. "i am not quite happy about her, miss lucy," said mrs greening, when lucy, as soon as she was dressed, went into the hut. "if she was an english girl i should know what to do, but these natives have odd ways, which puzzle me." the young maori girl lay as she had been placed on the bed, with her eyes open, but without moving or speaking. there was a strange wild look in her countenance, so lucy thought, which perplexed her. "i wish the doctor were here," she said; "if he does not come soon, we will send harry to look for him." "little tobias shall go at once, miss," answered mrs greening. "the run will do him no harm, even if he misses the doctor." tobias was called, and taking his stick in hand, the young giant set off at a round trot down the hill. lucy sat watching the sick girl, while mrs greening and betsy made preparations for breakfast. every now and then she cast an anxious glance through the open doorway, in the hopes of seeing the doctor coming up the hill. "oh! how sad it would be if she were to die in her present heathen state; when should she recover, she may have an opportunity of learning the blessed truths of the gospel," thought lucy. "how thankful i should feel could i tell her of the love of christ, and how he died for her sake, and for that of all who accept the gracious offers of salvation freely made to them. i must try, as soon as possible, to learn her language, to be able to speak to her." such and similar thoughts occupied lucy's mind for some time. at length, turning round and looking through the open doorway, she saw several natives coming up the hill. she recognised the first as waihoura's father. the party approached the hut, and stopped before the entrance. "dear me, here comes some of those savage-looking natives," exclaimed mrs greening. "what shall we say to them? i hope they are not come to take the poor little girl away." "i will try and make them understand that we have sent for the doctor, and that if they wish her to recover, they must let her remain under his charge," said lucy, rising and going to the door. though still feeling somewhat nervous in the presence of the maoris, her anxiety to benefit waihoura gave her courage, and she endeavoured, by signs, to make the chief understand what she wished. she then led him to the bedside of his daughter, who lay as unconscious as before. he stood for some time gazing down at her, the working of his countenance showing his anxiety. lucy felt greatly relieved on hearing toby's voice shouting out, "the doctor's a-coming mother, i ran on before to tell you, and there's a gentleman with him who knows how to talk to the savages." in a short time the doctor arrived, accompanied by an englishman of middle age, with a remarkably intelligent and benignant expression of countenance. "mr marlow kindly agreed to come with me," said dr fraser. "he understands the maori language, and i shall now be able to communicate with my patient, and to explain to her friends what is necessary to be done to afford her a prospect of recovery." "i am afraid she is very ill," said lucy, as she led the doctor and mr marlow into the hut. the latter addressed the young girl in a low gentle voice. at first she paid no attention, but at length her eyes brightened and her lips moved. mr marlow continued speaking, a smile lighted up her countenance. she replied, and taking his hand, pressed it to her lips. "i thought so," he said, turning to lucy, "we are old acquaintances. when still a child, she was for a short time at my missionary school, but her father resisted the truth, and took her away. through god's providence she may once more have an opportunity of hearing the message of salvation. we must endeavour to persuade ihaka, her father, to allow her to remain. he loves his daughter, and though unconscious of the value of her soul, for the sake of preserving her life, he may be induced to follow our advice." dr fraser, through mr marlow, put several questions to waihoura, and then administered some medicine he had brought, leaving a further portion with mrs greening, to be given as he directed. mr marlow then addressed ihaka the chief, who seemed to listen to him with great attention. he told him what the english doctor had said, and urged him, as he loved his daughter, to leave her under his care. ihaka at first hesitated, unwilling to be separated from his child. mr marlow pressed the point with great earnestness, and at length the chief signified his readiness to comply with the doctor's advice. "tell him if he restores my daughter, i and my people will be friends to him and the pakehas, for his sake, for ever," he said, pointing to dr fraser. "the life of your daughter, as well as that of all human beings, is in the hands of the great god who rules this world, and allows not a sparrow to fall to the ground without knowing it," answered mr marlow. "the doctor is but his instrument, and can only exert the knowledge which has been given him. to that loving god we will kneel in prayer, and petition that she may be restored to health." saying this, mr marlow summoned the english lads; and betsy, who had hitherto kept at a distance, and kneeling on the ground, offered up an earnest prayer to god, that if it was in accordance with his will, and for the benefit of the young maori girl, he would spare her life. all present earnestly repeated the "amen," with which he concluded his prayer. the savages, during the time, stood round in respectful silence; and, though not understanding the words uttered, were evidently fully aware of the purpose of what had been said. ihaka once more entering the hut, waihoura recognised him. taking her hand, he beckoned lucy and mrs greening to approach, and placed it in theirs, as if confiding her to their charge. "please, sir," said mrs greening to mr marlow, "tell the chief we will do the best we can for his little girl. she is a sweet young creature, and i little expected to find such among the savages out here." "they have hearts and souls, my dear lady, as we have, and though their colour is different to ours, god cares for them as he does for us." the chief seemed content, and after again addressing the missionary, he and his people took their departure. "the savages are all going, mother," exclaimed little tobias some time afterwards, as he came puffing and blowing up the hill. "i could not feel quite comfortable while they were near us, and i am glad that we are rid of them." "we should not judge from outside looks, tobias," remarked mrs greening. "as the good missionary said just now, they have hearts and souls like ours, and i am sure that chief, fierce and savage as he looks, loves his daughter as much as any english father can do." dr fraser and mr marlow had before this returned to the town, promising to come back in the evening to see how their patient was getting on. the consumption of firewood in the camp was considerable, as mrs greening kept up a good fire in the open air for the cooking operations. harry and tobias had brought in a supply in the morning, and harry's hands and clothes gave evidence how hard he had laboured. "we shall want some more wood before morning," observed mrs greening, turning to her sons. "i am ready to go again," said harry, "if james will stay in the camp." "no; master harry, its my turn to go if you will stop behind," said james. "if you wish it i'll stay," replied harry. "one of us ought to remain, or strangers coming up to the camp might be troublesome, and i would not permit that." while james and tobias set off with axes in their hands, and pieces of rope to bind their faggots, harry got his gun, and began to march up and down on guard. he evidently considered himself like a sentinel in the presence of an enemy. now he looked on one side of the hill, now on the other. no person could have entered the camp without receiving his challenge. he had thus been passing up and down for some time, when he caught sight, in the distance, of some persons emerging from the forest. "here they come," he shouted out, "papa and valentine, mr greening and paul, and the two natives who went with them." he was examining them with his spy-glass. "yes, it's them, and they will soon be here. pray get supper ready, mrs greening; depend upon it they will be very hungry after their long march." mrs greening, aided by betsy, at once got her pots and saucepans on the fire. harry, though feeling much inclined to run down and meet the party, restrained his eagerness. "a sentry must not quit his post," he said to himself, "though no harm will happen, i'll keep to mine on principle." in a short time mr pemberton, with his companions, appeared at the foot of the hill. lucy ran down to meet them, eager to welcome her father, and to tell him about waihoura. "i am glad you can be of assistance to the young girl, and it is most desirable that we should be able to show our friendly disposition towards the natives," he observed. "oh, i do so hope she will recover," said lucy. "but i am afraid that some time must pass before she is well enough to be moved." "that would decide me in a plan i propose," said mr pemberton. "greening and i have settled our ground, and i hope that we may be put in possession of it in a day or two; we will then leave you here with harry and tobias, while we go back and build our houses, and make preparations for your reception." lucy had expected to set out as soon as the ground was chosen; but as she could not hope that waihoura would be in a fit state to be moved for some time, she felt that the arrangement now proposed was the best. mr pemberton and farmer greening were highly pleased with the ground they had selected. "we propose to place our houses on the slope of a hill, which rises within a quarter of a mile of the river," he observed. "greening will take one side and i the other. our grounds extend from the river to the hill, and a little way beyond it; when the high road is formed, which will, from the nature of the country, pass close to our farm, we shall have both land and water communication. close also to the foot of the hill, a village probably will be built, so that we shall have the advantage of neighbours. among other advantages, our land is but slightly timbered, though sufficiently so to afford us an ample supply of wood for building, and as much as we shall require for years to come for fencing and fuel. from the spot i have chosen for our house, we have a view over the country in this direction, so that, with our telescope, we can distinguish the vessels, as they come into the harbour, or pass along the coast." "we shall have plenty of fishing too, harry," exclaimed valentine. "and we may, if we go a little distance, fall in with wild boars and plenty of birds, though there are none which we should call game in england." "oh! how i long to be there, and begin our settlers' life in earnest," said harry. "i hope the little savage girl will soon get well enough to move." "i wish we could be with you also to help you in the work," said lucy. "how can you manage to cook without us?" "valentine and paul have become excellent cooks, and though we shall miss your society, we shall not starve," observed mr pemberton. "our camp life is a very pleasant one," remarked valentine. "for my part i shall be rather sorry when it is over, and we have to live inside a house, and go to bed regularly at night." this conversation took place while they were seated at supper on the ground in front of the large tent. it was interrupted by the arrival of mr fraser, accompanied by mr marlow, to see waihoura. "she is going on favourably," said the doctor, as he came out; "but she requires great care, and i feel sure that had you not taken charge of her, her life would have been lost. now, however, i trust that she will recover. mr marlow will let her father understand how much he is indebted to you, as it is important that you should secure the friendship a chief of his power and influence." in two days mr pemberton and farmer greening were ready to start for their intended location. each had purchased a strong horse, and these were harnessed to a light dray, which mr pemberton had bought. it was now loaded with all the articles they required, and sufficient provisions and stores to last them till their cottages were put up, and they could return for the rest of the party. by that time it was hoped that the young maori girl would be in a fit state to be moved. "i will not let her, if i can help it, go back to her own people," said lucy. "she will become, i am sure, attached to us. i may be of use to her, and she will teach me her language, and it will be interesting to learn from her the habits and customs of the natives." "yes, indeed, it would be a pity to let the poor little girl turn again into a savage," observed mr greening. "i can't fancy that their ways are good ways, or suited to a christian girl, and that i hope, as miss lucy says, she will turn into before long." it had been arranged that lucy and betsy should take up their abode in the large tent, in which there was now sufficient room for their accommodation, the small one being packed up for mr pemberton's use. the dray being loaded, the farmer went to the horses' heads, and the young men, with the two maoris, going on either side to keep back the wheels, it slowly descended the hill. "we shall not make a very rapid journey," observed valentine. "but we shall be content if we come to the end of it in time without a break down." harry felt very proud at being left in charge of the camp, and tobias promised that there should be no lack of firewood or water, while he could cut the one, and draw the other from the sparkling stream which ran at the foot of the hill. "we shall do very well, never fear, sir," said mrs greening to mr pemberton, "and as soon as you and my good man come back, we shall be ready to start." just as her father had wished lucy good-bye, mr spears, with a pack on his back, and a stout stick in his hand, was observed coming up the hill. "just in time, neighbour," he exclaimed, as he came up to mr pemberton. "i found out, at the surveyor's office, where you had selected your land, and i made up my mind at once to take a piece of ground close to it. as i am all alone, i have only bought a few acres, but that will be enough to build a house on, and to have a garden and paddock. with your leave i'll accompany you. there are several more of our fellow passengers who will select land on the same block when they hear that you and i have settled on it, and we shall soon have, i hope, a pleasant society about us. we shall all be able to help each other; that's the principle i go on." mr pemberton told mr spears that he was very willing to have him as a companion on the journey, and that he was glad to hear that a settlement was likely soon to be formed near him. he was well aware that the differences of social rank could not be maintained in a new colony, and he had made up his mind to be courteous and kind to all around him, feeling assured that all the respect he could require would thus be paid him by his neighbours. he at once gave a proof of his good intentions. "your pack is heavy, mr spears, and we can easily find room on our waggon for it," he said, and taking off the pack, he secured it to the vehicle which they had just then overtaken. "thank you, good sir, thank you," answered mr spears, as he walked forward, with a jaunty elastic step, highly pleased at being relieved of his somewhat heavy burden. "one good turn deserves another, and i hope that i may have many opportunities of repaying it." mr pemberton had promised lucy to send over, from time to time, to let her know what progress was made, and to obtain intelligence in return from her. notwithstanding this, she looked forward eagerly to the day when he would come back to take her and the rest of the party to their new abode. though she did her best to find employment, the time would have hung somewhat heavily on her hands had she not had waihoura to attend to. the maori girl, in a short time, so far recovered as to be able to sit up and try to talk. she seemed as anxious to become acquainted with english as lucy was to learn her language. they both got on very rapidly, for though waihoura had some difficulty in pronouncing english words, she seldom forgot the name of a thing when she had once learned it. she would ask lucy to say the word over and over again, then pronouncing it after her. at the end of a week she could speak a good many english sentences. lucy made almost as rapid progress in maori, she having the advantage of several books to assist her, and at length the two girls were in a limited degree able to exchange ideas. no one in the camp, however, was idle. harry, who always kept guard, was busy from morning to night in manufacturing some article which he thought likely to prove useful. betsy either went with tobias to cut wood, or bring up water, or assist mrs greening, and frequently accompanied her into the town when she went marketing; and sometimes tobias, when he was not wanted to cut wood, went with his mother. one day he came back with the information that a vessel, which had come to an anchor in the morning, had brought over from australia several head of cattle, and a large flock of sheep. "i wish father were here, he would be down on the shore, and buying some of them pretty quickly," he exclaimed. "could we not send to let him know," said lucy. "harry, i heard papa say, too, that he wished to purchase a small flock of sheep as soon as he could find any at a moderate price. i should so like to have charge of them. i have always thought the life of a shepherd or shepherdess the most delightful in the world." harry laughed. "i suspect when it began to rain hard, and your sheep ran away and got lost in the mountains and woods, you would wish yourself sewing quietly by the fireside at home, and your sheep at jericho," he exclaimed, continuing his laughter. "still i should be very glad if we could get the sheep, though i am afraid they will all be sold before we can receive papa's answer." while the conversation was going on, dr fraser arrived to see waihoura. harry told him that he would very much like to send to his father to give notice of the arrival of the sheep. "would you like to turn shepherd?" asked the doctor. "i should like nothing better, for i could take my books with me, or anything i had to make, and look after the sheep at the same time; it would suit me better than lucy, who has a fancy to turn shepherdess, and have a crook, and wear a straw hat set on one side of her head, surrounded with a garland, just as we see in pictures." "i suspect miss lucy would find home duties more suited to her," said the doctor; "but if you, harry, will undertake to look after a small flock of sheep, i think i may promise to put one under your charge, and to give you a portion of the increase as payment. i was thinking of buying a hundred sheep, but hesitated from not knowing any one i could trust to to keep them. from what i have seen of you, i am sure you will do your best; and as your father and farmer greening will probably purchase some more, they will run together till they are sufficiently numerous to form separate flocks. if you will write a letter to your father i will send a messenger off at once," said the doctor. "indeed, so certain am i that they would wish to purchase some, that i will, when i go back, make an offer for a couple of hundred in addition to mine." the next day the doctor told them that he had purchased the sheep as he had proposed, and he brought a letter from mr pemberton thanking him for doing so, and saying that they had made such good progress in their work, that they hoped, in another week, to come back for the rest of the party. "i am rather puzzled to know what to do with the sheep in the meantime," said the doctor. "i cannot entrust them to natives, and there is not a european in the place who has not his own affairs to look after. what do you say, harry, can you and tobias take care of them?" "i cannot quit my post," answered harry, though he was longing to go and see the sheep. "if they were sent up here, i could watch them, but i am afraid they would not remain on the hill while there is better pasture below." "tobias could take charge of them, sir," said mrs greening. "and if we had our old dog `rough,' i'll warrant not one would go astray." "rough," who had accompanied farmer greening all the way from england, had mysteriously disappeared the morning of their arrival; he could not be found before they had quitted the ship, and they had since been unable to discover him. "that is curious," said the doctor; "for this morning, when i bought the sheep, a man offered me a shepherd's dog for sale. i told him that should he not in the meantime have found a purchaser, i would treat with him in the evening after i had seen the dog. should he prove to be `rough,' i will not fail to purchase him." tobias, on hearing this, was very eager to accompany dr fraser. "the old dog will know me among a thousand, and the man will have a hard job to hold him in," he observed, grinning from ear to ear. the doctor, after he had seen waihoura, told lucy she need have no further anxiety about her friend, who only required good food and care completely to recover. "i must get mr marlow to see her father, and persuade him to allow her to remain with you, and he may assure him very truly that she will probably fall ill again if she goes back again to her own people," he said. tobias accompanied the doctor into the town in the hopes of hearing about his favourite "rough." he had not been long absent, when back he came with his shaggy friend at his heels. "here he is mother, here he is master harry," he shouted. "i know'd how it would be, the moment he caught sight of me, he almost toppled the man who held him down on his nose, and so he would if the rope hadn't broken, and in another moment he was licking me all over. the doctor gave the man a guinea; but i said it was a shame for him to take it, and so did everybody, for they saw that the dog knew me among twenty or thirty standing round. the man sneaked off, and `rough' came along with me. now i must go back and bring the sheep round here to the foot of the hill. there's some ground the surveyor says that we may put them on till we can take them to our own run, but we must give `rough' his dinner first, for i'll warrant the fellow has not fed him over well." "rough" wagged his stump of a tail to signify he understood his young master's kind intentions, and mrs greening soon got a mess ready, which "rough" swallowed up in a few moments, and looked up into toby's face, as much as to say, "what do you want with me next?" "come along `rough,' i'll show you," said toby, as he set off at a round trot down the hill. the party at the camp watched him with no little pleasure, when a short time afterwards, he, with the aid of "rough," was seen driving a flock of sheep from the town past the hill to a meadow partly enclosed by a stream which made its way into the sea, a short distance off. "rough" exhibited his wonderful intelligence, as he dashed now on one side, now on the other, keeping the sheep together, and not allowing a single one to stray away. it was a difficult task for toby and him, for the sheep, long pent up on board ship, made numberless attempts to head off into the interior, where their instinct told them they would find an abundance of pasture. without the assistance of "rough," toby would have found it impossible to guide them into the meadow, and even when there, he and his dog had to exert all their vigilance to keep them together. harry was sorely tempted to go down to assist. "i must not quit my post though," he said. "as soon as i am relieved, then i'll try if i cannot shepherd as well as toby. it seems to me that `rough' does the chief part of the work." the doctor had engaged a couple of natives to assist toby in looking after the sheep, but he was so afraid of losing any, that he would only come up to the camp for a few minutes at a time to take his meals, and to get "rough's" food. the maoris had built him a small hut, where he passed the night, with the flock lying down close to him, kept together by the vigilant dog. the maoris were, however, very useful in bringing firewood and water to the camp. waihoura was now well enough to walk about. lucy had given her one of her own frocks and some other clothes, and she and betsy took great pains to dress her in a becoming manner, they combed and braided her dark tresses, which they adorned with a few wild flowers that betsy had picked, and when her costume was complete, mrs greening, looking at her with admiration, exclaimed, "well, i never did think that a little savage girl could turn into a young lady so soon." waihoura, who had seen herself in a looking-glass, was evidently very well satisfied with her appearance, and clapped her hands with delight, and then ran to lucy and rubbed her nose against her's, and kissed her, to express her gratitude. "now that you are like us outside, you must become like us inside," said lucy, employing a homely way of speaking such as her maori friend was most likely to understand. "we pray to god, you must learn to pray to him. we learn about him in the book through which he has made himself known to us as a god of love and mercy, as well as a god of justice, who desires all people to come to him, and has shown us the only way by which we can come. you understand, all people have disobeyed god, and are rebels, and are treated as such by him. the evil spirit, satan, wishes to keep us rebels, and away from god. god in his love desires us to be reconciled to him; but we all deserve punishment, and he cannot, as a god of justice, let us go unpunished. in his great mercy, however, he permitted another to be punished for us, and he allowed his well-beloved son jesus christ, a part of himself, to become the person to suffer punishment. jesus came down on earth to be obedient in all things, because man had been disobedient. he lived a holy pure life, going about doing good, even allowing himself to be cruelly treated, to be despised and put to shame by the very people among whom he had lived, and to whom he had done so much good. then, because man justly deserves punishment, he willingly underwent one of the most painful punishments ever thought of, thus suffering instead of man. when nailed to the cross, his side was pierced with a spear, and the blood flowed forth, that the sacrifice might be complete and perfect. then he rose again, to prove that he was truly god, and that all men will rise from the dead; and he ascended into heaven, there to plead with the father for all who trust him, and to claim our freedom from punishment, on the ground that he was punished in our stead." "jesus sent also, as he had promised, the holy spirit to dwell on earth with his people, to be their comforter, their guide and instructor, and to enable them to understand and accept his father's loving plan of salvation, which he had so fully and completely carried out." "do you understand my meaning," said lucy, who felt that she had said more than waihoura was likely to comprehend. she shook her head. "lucy not bad woman;" pointing to mrs greening, "not bad; maori girl bad, maori people very bad," she answered slowly. "god no love maori people." "but we are all bad when compared to him--all unfit to go and live in his pure and holy presence," exclaimed lucy. "and in spite of their wickedness, god loves the maori people as much as he does us; their souls are of the same value in his sight as ours, and he desires that all should come to him and be saved." "why god not take them then, and make them good?" asked waihoura. "because he in his wisdom thought fit to create man a free agent, to give him the power of choosing between the good and the evil. why he allows evil to exist, he has not revealed to us. all we know is that evil does exist, and that satan is the prince of evil, and tries to spread it everywhere throughout the world. god, if he chose, could overcome evil, but then this world would no longer be a place of trial, as he has thought fit to make it. he has not left man, however, without a means of conquering evil. jesus christ came down on earth to present those means to man; they are very simple, and can very easily be made use of; so simple and so easy that man would never have thought of them. man has nothing to do in order to get rid of his sins, to become pure and holy, and thus fit to live in the presence of a pure and holy god. he has only to put faith in jesus christ, who, though free from sin, as i have told you, took our sins upon himself, and was punished in our stead, while we have only to turn from sin, and to desire not to sin again. we are, however, so prone to sin, that we could not do even this by ourselves; but christ, knowing our weakness, has, as he promised, when he ascended into heaven, sent his holy spirit to be with us to help us to hate sin, and to resist sin." lucy kept her eyes fixed on her friend to try and ascertain if she now more clearly understood her. waihoura again shook her head. lucy felt convinced that her knowledge of english was still too imperfect to enable her to comprehend the subject. "i must try more than ever to learn to speak maori," she said, "and then perhaps i shall better be able to explain what i mean." "maori girl want to know much, much, much," answered waihoura, taking lucy's hand. "maori girl soon die perhaps, and then wish to go away where lucy go." "ah, yes, it is natural that we should wish to be with those we have loved on earth, but if we understand the surpassing love of jesus, we should desire far more to go and dwell with him. try and remember, waihoura, that we have a friend in heaven who loves us more than any earthly friend can do, who knows how weak and foolish and helpless we are, and yet is ever ready to listen to us, and to receive us when we lift up our hearts to him in prayer." "maori girl not know how to pray," said waihoura, sorrowfully. "i cannot teach you," said lucy, "but if you desire to pray, jesus can and will send the holy spirit i told you of. if you only wish to pray, i believe that you are praying, the mere words you utter are of little consequence, god sees into our hearts, and he knows better than even we ourselves do, whether the spirit of prayer is there." "i am afraid, miss lucy, that the little girl can't take in much of the beautiful things you have been saying," observed mrs greening, who had all the time been listening attentively. "but i have learned more than i knew before, and i only wish tobias and the rest of them had been here to listen to you." "i am very sure my father will explain the subject to them more clearly than i can do," said lucy, modestly. "i have only repeated what he said to me, and what i know to be true, because i have found it all so plainly set forth in god's word. my father always tells us not to take anything we hear for granted till we find it there, and that it is our duty to search the scriptures for ourselves. it is because people are often too idle, or too ignorant to do this, that there is so much false doctrine and error among nominal christians. i hope mr marlow will pay us a visit when we are settled in our new home, and bring a maori bible with him, and he will be able to explain the truth to waihoura far better than i can. you will like to learn to read, waihoura, and we must get some books, and i will try and teach you, and you will teach me your language at the same time." lucy often spoke on the same subject to her guest; but, as was to be expected, waihoura very imperfectly understood her. with more experience she would have known that god often thinks fit to try the faith and patience even of the most earnest and zealous christians who are striving to make known the truth of the gospel to others. the faithful missionary has often toiled on for years among the heathen before he has been allowed to see the fruit of his labours. chapter four. settling down. return of waggon to the camp for lucy and the rest of the party, who set off for the farm.--scenery on the road.--arrival at farm.--mr spears again.--plans for the future. "here comes the waggon," shouted harry, as he stood on the brow of the hill waving his hat. "there's farmer greening and val. papa has sent for us at last." harry was right, and val announced that he had come for all the lighter articles, including lucy and her companions, who were to set out at once with farmer greening, while he, with a native, remained to take care of the heavier goods. the waggon was soon loaded, leaving places within it for lucy and waihoura, mrs greening and betsy insisting on walking. "now val, i hand over my command to you, and see that you keep as good a watch as i have done," said harry, as he shook hands with his brother. "i must go and take charge of the sheep." valentine smiled at the air of importance harry had assumed. "there's the right stuff in the little fellow," he said to himself, as he watched him and young tobias driving the sheep in the direction the waggon had taken. lucy was delighted with the appearance of the country, as they advanced, though she could not help wishing very frequently that the road had been smoother; indeed, the vehicle bumped and rolled about so much at times that she fully expected a break down. waihoura, who had never been in a carriage before, naturally supposed that this was the usual way in which such vehicles moved along, and therefore appeared in no degree alarmed. she pointed out to lucy the names of the different trees they passed, and of the birds which flew by. lucy was struck with the beauty of the fern trees, their long graceful leaves springing twenty and thirty feet from the ground; some, indeed, in sheltered and damp situations, were twice that height, having the appearance of the palm trees of tropical climates. the most beautiful tree was the rimu, which rose without a branch to sixty or seventy feet, with graceful drooping foliage of a beautiful green, resembling clusters of feathers; then there was the kahikatea, or white pine, resembling the rimu in foliage, but with a light coloured bark. one or two were seen rising ninety feet high without a branch. there were numerous creepers, some bearing very handsome flowers, and various shrubs; one, the karaka, like a large laurel, with golden coloured berries in clusters, which contrasted finely with the glossy greenness of its foliage. some of the fruits were like large plums, very tempting in appearance; but when lucy tasted some, which the farmer picked for her, she was much disappointed in their flavour. the best was the poro poro, which had a taste between that of apple peel and a bad strawberry. birds were flitting about from tree to tree; the most common was the tui, with a glossy black plumage, and two white feathers on the throat like bands, and somewhat larger than an english blackbird, which appeared always in motion, now darting up from some low bush to the topmost bough of a lofty tree, when it began making a number of strange noises, with a wonderful volume of tone. if one tui caught sight of another, they commenced fighting, more in sport, apparently, than in earnest, and ending with a wild shout; they would throw a summer-set or two, and then dart away into the bush to recommence their songs and shouts. there was a fine pigeon, its plumage richly shaded with green purple and gold, called the kukupa. occasionally they caught sight of a large brown parrot, marked with red, flying about the tops of the tallest trees, and uttering a loud and peculiar cry; this was the kaka. waihoura pointed out to lucy another bird of the parrot tribe, of a green plumage, touched with gold about the head, and which she called the kakarica. as the waggon could only proceed at a snail's pace, they had made good but half the distance, when they had to stop for dinner by the side of a bright stream which ran through the forest. the horses, which were tethered, cropped the grass, and mrs greening unpacked her cooking utensils. while dinner was getting ready, waihoura led lucy along the bank of the stream to show her some more birds. they saw several, among them an elegant little fly-catcher, with a black and white plumage, and a delicate fan-tail, which flew rapidly about picking up sun-flies; this was the tirakana. and there was another pretty bird, the makomako, somewhat like a green linnet. several were singing together, and their notes reminded lucy of the soft tinkling of numerous little bells. they had seen nothing of harry and tobias with the sheep since starting, and farmer greening began to regret that he had not sent one of his elder sons to drive them. "never fear, father," observed mrs greening, "our little tobias has got a head on his shoulders, and so has master harry, and with `rough' to help them, they will get along well enough." mrs greening was right, and just as the horses were put too, "rough's" bark was heard through the woods. in a short time the van of the flock appeared, with a native, who walked first to show the way. though "rough" had never been out in the country before, he seemed to understand its character, and the necessity of compelling the sheep to follow the footsteps of the dark-skinned native before them. "it's capital fun," cried harry, as soon as he saw lucy. "we have to keep our eyes about us though, when coming through the wood especially, but we have not let a single sheep stray away as yet." "well, boys, our fire is still burning, and my missus has cooked food enough for you all," said farmer greening. "so you may just take your dinner, and come on after us as fast as you can." "we will not be long," answered harry. "hope, mother, you have left some bones for `rough' though," said toby. "he deserves his dinner as much as any of us." "here's a mess i put by for him to give when we got to the end of our journey," answered mrs greening, drawing out a pot which she had stowed away in the waggon. she called to "rough," who quickly gobbled it up. the waggon then moved on, while harry and his companions sat round the fire to discuss their dinner. "rough," in the meantime, vigilantly keeping the sheep together. the remainder of the journey was found more difficult than the first part had been. sometimes they had to climb over steep ranges, when the natives assisted at the wheels, while mrs greening and betsy pushed behind; then they had to descend on the other side, when a drag was put on, and the wheels held back. several wide circuits had to be made to avoid hills on their way, and even when over level ground, the fern in many places was so very thick that it was rather hard work for the horses to drag the waggon through it. "this is a rough country," observed mrs greening, as she trudged on by her husband's side. "i didn't expect to see the like of it." "never fear, dame," answered the farmer. "in a year or two we shall have a good road between this and the port, and a coach-and-four may be running on it." at length the last range was passed, and they reached a broad open valley, with a fine extent of level ground. in the distance rose a hill, with a sparkling river flowing near it, and thickly wooded heights. further on beyond, it appeared a bold range of mountains, their highest peaks capped with snow. "this is, indeed, a beautiful scene," exclaimed lucy. "that's our home, miss," said the farmer, pointing to the hill. "if your eyes could reach as far, you would just see the roof of your new house among the trees. we shall come well in sight of it before long." the waggon now moved on faster, as the fern had been cut away or trampled down, and the horses seemed to know that they were getting near home. mr pemberton and the farmer's sons came down to welcome them, and to conduct them up to the house. lucy was surprised to find what progress had already been made. the whole of it was roofed over, and the room she was to occupy was completely finished. the building was not very large. it consisted of a central hall, with two bed-rooms on either side, and a broad verandah running entirely round it; behind it were some smaller detached buildings for the kitchen and out-houses. in front and on one side a space was marked off for a flower garden, beyond which, extending down the side of the hill to the level ground, was a large space which mr pemberton said he intended for the orchard and kitchen garden. on that side of the house were sheds for the waggons and horses, though now occupied by the native labourers. "they consider themselves magnificently lodged," said mr pemberton. "and they deserve it, for they worked most industriously, and enabled me to put up the house far more rapidly than i had expected. i believe, however, that they would have preferred the native wahre, with the heat and smoke they delight in, to the larger hut i have provided for them, and i have been sometimes afraid they would burn it down with the huge fire they made within." farmer greening's cottage, which was a little way round on the other side of the hill, was built on a similar plan to mr pemberton, but it was not so far advanced. "you must blame me, mrs greening, for this," said mr pemberton. "your husband insisted on helping me with my house before he would begin yours, declaring that he should have the advantage of having mine as a model. i hope, therefore, that you will take up your abode with us till yours is finished, as harry and i can occupy the tent in the meantime." mrs greening gladly accepted the invitation; she thought, indeed, that she should be of use to lucy in getting the house in order. the sitting-room was not yet boarded, but a rough table had been put in it, and round this the party were soon seated at tea. "beg pardon, i hope i don't intrude, just looked in to welcome you and my good friend mrs greening to `riverside.' glad to find that you have arrived safe. well, to be sure, the place is making wonderful progress, we have three families already arrived in the village, and two more expected tomorrow, and i don't know how many will follow. i have been helping my new friends to put up their houses, and have been obliged to content myself with a shake-down of fern in the corner of a shed; but we settlers must make up our minds to rough it, mr pemberton, and i hope to get my own house up in the course of a week or two." these words were uttered by mr nicholas spears, who stood poking his head into the room at the doorway, as if doubtful whether he might venture to enter. "i thank you for your kind inquiries, mr spears," said mr pemberton, who, though he could not feel much respect for the little man, treated him, as he did everybody else, with courtesy. "if you have not had your tea come in and take a seat at our board. we have but a three-legged stool to offer you." this was just what mr spears wished; and sitting down he began forthwith to give the party all the news of the settlement. from his account lucy was glad to find that two families, one that of a naval, the other of a military officer, who had just arrived in the colony, had taken land close to theirs, and were about to settle on it. although the midsummer day was drawing to a close, harry and toby, with the sheep, had not yet made their appearance. paul and james went off to meet them, and take the flock where they were to remain for the night, so as to relieve the boys of their charge. there was a fine bright moon, so they would have no difficulty in finding their way. not long afterwards harry's voice was heard, echoed by toby's, shouting to the sheep, and the two boys rushed up to the house. "here we are, papa," cried harry. "we have brought the sheep along all safe, and now paul and james have got charge of them, we may eat our supper with good consciences." mrs greening quickly placed a plentiful meal before the two young shepherds, who did ample justice to it. "we must get some cows, farmer, if we can procure any at a moderate price, when you next go back to town," said mr pemberton. "that's just what i was thinking," answered the farmer. "and some pigs and poultry," added mrs greening. "i should not think myself at home without them, and miss lucy and betsy will be wanting some to look after." "and a few goats, i suspect, would not be amiss," observed the farmer. "i saw several near the town, and i hear they do very well." waihoura, who was listening attentively to all that was said, seemed to comprehend the remark about the goats, and made lucy understand that she had several at her village, and she should like to send for some of them. supper being over, mr pemberton, according to his usual custom, read a chapter in the bible, and offered up evening prayer; and after mr spears had taken his departure, and the rest of the family had retired to their respective dormitories, heaps of fern serving as beds for most of them, mr pemberton and the farmer sat up arranging their plans for the future. the latter agreed to return to town the next day to bring up the remainder of the stores, and to make the proposed purchases. although they all knew that at no great distance there were several villages inhabited by savages, till lately, notorious for their fierce and blood-thirsty character, they lay down to sleep with perfect confidence, knowing that the missionary of the gospel had been among them, and believing that a firm friendship had been established between them and the white occupants of their country. chapter five. ihaka's visit. life at riverside.--waihoura begins to learn the truth.--her father, accompanied by several chiefs, comes to take her to his pah, and she quits her friends at riverside. the settlement made rapid progress. in the course of a few weeks mr pemberton's and farmer greening's houses were finished, their gardens dug and planted; and they had now, in addition to the sheep, which harry and toby continued to tend, several cows and pigs and poultry. lucy, assisted by betsy, was fully occupied from morning till night; she, however, found time to give instruction to waihoura, while mr pemberton or valentine assisted harry in his studies. he seldom went out without a book in his pocket, so that he might read while the vigilant "rough" kept the sheep together. several other families had bought land in the neighbourhood, and had got up their cottages. some of them were very nice people, but they, as well as lucy, were so constantly engaged, that they could see very little of each other. the maoris employed by mr pemberton belonged to ihaka's tribe, and through them he heard of his daughter. he had been so strongly urged by mr marlow to allow her to remain with her white friends, that he had hitherto abstained from visiting her, lest, as he sent word, he should be tempted to take her away. lucy was very glad of this, as was waihoura. the two girls were becoming more and more attached to each other, and they dreaded the time when they might be separated. "maori girl wish always live with lucy--never, never part," said waihoura, as one evening the two friends sat together in the porch, bending over a picture-book of scripture subjects, with the aid of which lucy was endeavouring to instruct her companion. lucy's arm was thrown round waihoura's neck, while betsy, who had finished her work, stood behind them, listening to the conversation, and wondering at the way her young mistress contrived to make herself understood. "god does not always allow even the dearest friends to remain together while they dwell on earth," replied lucy to waihoura's last remark. "i used to wish that i might never leave my dear mother; but god thought fit to take her to himself. i could not have borne the parting did not i know that i should meet her in heaven." "what place heaven?" asked waihoura. "jesus has told us that it is the place where we shall be with him, where all is love, and purity, and holiness, and where we shall meet all who have trusted to him while on earth, and where there will be no more parting, and where sorrow and sickness, and pain, and all things evil, will be unknown." "maori girl meet lucy in heaven?" said waihoura, in a tone which showed she was asking a question. "i am sure you will," said lucy, "if you learn to love jesus and do his will." waihoura was silent for some minutes, a sad expression coming over her countenance. "maori girl too bad, not love jesus enough," she said. "no one is fitted for heaven from their own merits or good works, and we never can love jesus as much as he deserves to be loved. but he knows how weak and wayward we are, and all he asks us is to try our best to love and serve him, to believe that he was punished instead of us, and took our sins upon himself, and he then, as it were, clothes us with his righteousness. he hides our sins, or puts them away, so that god looks upon us as if we were pure and holy, and free from sin, and so will let us come into a pure and holy heaven, where no unclean things--such as are human beings--of themselves can enter. do you understand me?" waihoura thought for some time, and then asked lucy again to explain her meaning. at length her countenance brightened. "just as if maori girl put on lucy's dress, and hat and shawl over face, and go into a pakeha house, people say here come pakeha girl." "yes," said lucy, inclined to smile at her friend's illustration of the truth. "but you must have a living faith in christ's sacrifice; and though the work and the merit is all his, you must show, by your love and your life, what you think, and say, and do, that you value that work. if one of your father's poor slaves had been set free, and had received a house and lands, and a wife, and pigs, and many other things from him, ought not the slave to remain faithful to him, and to try and serve him, and work for him more willingly than when he was a slave? that is just what jesus christ requires of those who believe in him. they were slaves to satan and the world, and to many bad ways, and he set them free. he wants all such to labour for him. now he values the souls of people more than anything else, and he wishes his friends to make known to others the way by which their souls may be saved. he also wishes people to live happily together in the world; and he came on earth to show us the only way in which that can be done. he proved to us, by his example, that we can only be happy by being kind, and gentle, and courteous to others, helping those who are in distress, doing to others as we should wish they would do to us. if, therefore, we really love jesus, and have a living active faith in him, we shall try to follow his example in all things. if all men lived thus, the gospel on earth would be established, there would be really peace and good will among men." "very different here," said waihoura. "maori people still quarrel, and fight, and kill. in pakeha country they good people love jesus, and do good, and no bad." "i am sorry to say that though there are many who do love jesus, there are far more who do not care to please him, and that there is much sin, and sorrow, and suffering in consequence. oh, if we could but find the country where all loved and tried to serve him! if all the inhabitants of even one little island were real followers of jesus, what a happy spot it would be." waihoura sighed. "long time before maori country like that." "i am afraid that it will be a long time before any part of the world is like that," said lucy. "but yet it is the duty of each separate follower of jesus to try, by the way he or she lives, to make it so. oh, how watchful we should be over ourselves and all our thoughts, words and acts, and remembering our own weakness and proneness to sin, never to be trusting to ourselves, but ever seeking the aid of the holy spirit to help us." lucy said this rather to herself than to her companion. indeed, though she did her best to explain the subject to waihoura, and to draw from her in return the ideas she had received, she could not help acknowledging that what she had said was very imperfectly understood by the maori girl. she was looking forward, however, with great interest, to a visit from mr marlow, and she hoped that he, from speaking the native language fluently, would be able to explain many points which she had found beyond her power to put clearly. the work of the day being over, the party were seated at their evening meal. a strange noise was heard coming from the direction of the wahre, which the native labourers had built for themselves, a short distance from the house. harry, who had just then come in from his shepherding, said that several natives were collected round the wahre, and that they were rubbing noses, and howling together in chorus. "i am afraid they have brought some bad news, for the tears were rolling down their eyes, and altogether they looked very unhappy," he remarked. waihoura, who partly understood what harry had said, looked up and observed-- "no bad news, only meet after long time away." still she appeared somewhat anxious, and continued giving uneasy glances at the door. valentine was about to go out to make inquiries, when ihaka, dressed in a cloak of flax, and accompanied by several other persons similarly habited, appeared at the door. waihoura ran forward to meet him. he took her in his arms, rubbed his nose against hers, and burst into tears, which also streamed down her cheeks. after their greeting was over, mr pemberton invited the chief and his friends to be seated, fully expecting to hear that he had come to announce the death of some near relative. the chief accepted the invitation for himself and one of his companions, while the others retired to a distance, and sat down on the ground. ihaka's companion was a young man, and the elaborate tattooing on his face and arms showed that he was a chief of some consideration. both he and ihaka behaved with much propriety, and their manners were those of gentlemen who felt themselves in their proper position; but as lucy noticed the countenance of the younger chief, she did not at all like its expression. the tattoo marks always give a peculiarly fierce look to the features; but, besides this, as he cast his eyes round the party, and they at last rested on waihoura, lucy's bad opinion of him was confirmed. ihaka could speak a few sentences of english, but the conversation was carried on chiefly through waihoura, who interpreted for him. the younger chief seldom spoke; when he did, either ihaka or his daughter tried to explain his meaning. occasionally he addressed her in maori, when she hung down her head, or turned her eyes away from him, and made no attempt to interpret what he had said. mr pemberton knew enough of the customs of the natives not to inquire the object of ihaka's visit, and to wait till he thought fit to explain it. lucy had feared, directly he made his appearance, that he had come to claim his daughter, and she trembled lest he should declare that such was his intention. her anxiety increased when supper was over, and he began, in somewhat high-flown language, to express his gratitude to her and mr pemberton for the care they had taken of waihoura. he then introduced his companion as hemipo, a rangatira, or chief of high rank, his greatly esteemed and honoured friend, who, although not related to him by the ties of blood, might yet, he hoped, become so. when he said this waihoura cast her eyes to the ground, and looked greatly distressed, and lucy, who had taken her hand, felt it tremble. ihaka continued, observing that now, having been deprived of the company of his daughter for many months, though grateful to the friends who had so kindly sheltered her, and been the means of restoring her to health, he desired to have her return with him to his pah, where she might assist in keeping the other women in order, and comfort and console him in his wahre, which had remained empty and melancholy since the death of her mother. waihoura, though compelled to interpret this speech, made no remark on it; but lucy saw that the tears were trickling down her cheeks. mr pemberton, though very sorry to part with his young guest, felt that it would be useless to beg her father to allow her to remain after what he had said. lucy, however, pleaded hard that she might be permitted to stay on with them sometime longer. all she could say, however, was useless; for when the chief appeared to be yielding, hemipo said something which made him keep to his resolution, and he finally told waihoura that she must prepare to accompany him the following morning. he and hemipo then rose, and saying that they would sleep in the wahre, out of which it afterwards appeared they turned the usual inhabitants, they took their departure. waihoura kept up her composure till they were gone, and then throwing herself on lucy's neck, burst into tears. "till i came here i did not know what it was to love god, and to try and be good, and to live as you do, so happy and peaceable, and now i must go back and be again the wild maori girl i was before i came to you, and follow the habits of my people; and worse than all, lucy, from what my father said, i know that he intends me to marry the rangatira hemipo, whom i can never love, for he is a bad man, and has killed several cookies or slaves, who have offended him. he is no friend of the pakehas, and has often said he would be ready to drive them out of the country. he would never listen either to the missionaries; and when the good mr marlow went to his pah, he treated him rudely, and has threatened to take his life if he has the opportunity. fear only of what the pakehas might do has prevented him." waihoura did not say this in as many words, but she contrived, partly in english and partly in her own language, to make her meaning understood. lucy was deeply grieved at hearing it, and tried to think of some means for saving waihoura from so hard a fate. they sat up for a long time talking on the subject, but no plan which lucy could suggest afforded waihoura any consolation. "i will consult my father as to what can be done," lucy said at last; "or when mr marlow comes, perhaps he can help us." "oh no, he can do nothing," answered waihoura, bursting into tears. "we must pray, then, that god will help us," said lucy. "he has promised that he will be a present help in time of trouble." "oh yes, we will pray to god. he only can help us," replied the maori girl, and ere they lay down on their beds they together offered up their petitions to their father in heaven for guidance and protection; but though they knew that that would not be withheld, they could not see the way in which it would be granted. next morning waihoura had somewhat recovered her composure. lucy and mrs greening insisted on her accepting numerous presents, which she evidently considered of great value. several of the other settlers in the neighbourhood, who had become acquainted with the young maori girl, and had heard that she was going away, brought up their gifts. waihoura again gave way to tears when the moment arrived for her final parting with lucy; and she was still weeping as her father led her off, surrounded by his attendants, to return to his pah. chapter six. among the maoris. riverside.--mr marlow the missionary, visits the pembertons.--lucy and her friends visit ihaka.--a native pah described.--a feast--native amusements.--return to riverside. the appearance of riverside had greatly improved since mr pemberton and farmer greening had settled there. they had each thirty or forty acres under cultivation, with kitchen gardens and orchards, and lucy had a very pretty flower garden in front of the cottage, with a dairy and poultry yard, and several litters of pigs. harry's flock of sheep had increased threefold, and might now be seen dotting the plain as they fed on the rich grasses which had sprung up where the fern had been burnt. there were several other farms in the neighbourhood, and at the foot of the hill a village, consisting of a dozen or more houses, had been built, the principal shop in which was kept by mr nicholas spears. the high road to the port was still in a very imperfect state, and the long talked of coach had not yet begun to run. communication was kept up by means of the settlers waggons, or by the gentlemen, who took a shorter route to it on horseback. mr marlow at length paid his long promised visit. lucy eagerly inquired if he had seen waihoura. "i spent a couple of days at ihaka's pah on my way here," he replied, "and i am sorry to say that your young friend appears very unhappy. her father seems resolved that she shall marry hemipo, notwithstanding that he is a heathen, as he has passed his word to that effect. i pointed out to him the misery he would cause her; and though he loves his child, yet i could not shake him. he replied, that a chief's word must not be broken, and that perhaps waihoura's marriage may be the means of converting her husband. i fear that she would have little influence over him, as even among his own people he is looked upon as a fierce and vindictive savage." "poor waihoura!" sighed lucy. "do you think her father would allow her to pay us another visit? i should be so glad to send and invite her." "i am afraid not," answered mr marlow. "ihaka himself, though nominally a christian, is very lukewarm; and though he was glad to have his daughter restored to health, he does not value the advantage she would derive from intercourse with civilised people. however, you can make the attempt, and i will write a letter, which you can send by one of his people who accompanied me here." the letter was written, and forthwith despatched. in return ihaka sent an invitation to the pakeha maiden and her friends to visit him and his daughter at his pah. mr marlow advised lucy to accept it. "the chief's pride possibly prevents him from allowing his daughter to visit you again, until, according to his notions, he has repaid you for the hospitality you have shown her," he observed. "you may feel perfectly secure in going there; and, at all events, you will find the visit interesting, as you will have an opportunity of seeing more of the native customs and way of living than you otherwise could." mr pemberton, after some hesitation, agreed to the proposal, and valentine undertook to escort his sister. harry said he should like to go; "but then about the sheep--i cannot leave them for so long," he said. james greening offered to look after his flock during his absence. a lady, miss osburn, a very nice girl, who was calling on lucy, expressed a strong wish to accompany her. "i think that i am bound to go with you, as i have advised the expedition, and feel myself answerable for your safe conduct," said mr marlow. "i may also prove useful as an interpreter, and should be glad of an opportunity of again speaking to ihaka and his people." a message was accordingly sent to the chief, announcing the intention of lucy and her friends to pay a visit to his pah. the road, though somewhat rough, was considered practicable for the waggon, which was accordingly got ready. they were to start at daybreak, and as the pah was about twelve miles off, it was not expected that they would reach it till late in the afternoon. two natives had been sent by ihaka to act as guides, and as they selected the most level route, the journey was performed without accident. about the time expected they came in sight of a rocky hill rising out of the plain, with a stream running at its base. on the summit appeared a line of palisades, surmounted by strange looking figures, mounted on poles, while in front was a gateway, above which was a larger figure, with a hideous countenance, curiously carved and painted. the natives pointed, with evident pride, at the abode of their chief. as the path to it was far too steep to allow of the waggon going up it, lucy and her friend got out to ascend on foot. as they did so, the chief and a number of his people emerged from the gateway, and came down to meet them. the usual salutations were offered, and the chief, knowing the customs of his guests, did not offer to rub noses. lucy inquired anxiously for waihoura. she was, according to etiquette, remaining within to receive her visitors. after passing through a gateway, they found a second line of stockades, within which was a wide place occupied by numerous small wahres, while at the further end stood two of somewhat larger size, ornamented with numerous highly carved wooden figures. on one side was a building, raised on carved posts, with a high-pitched roof--it was still more highly ornamented than the others, in grotesque patterns, among which the human face predominated. this latter was the chief's store-house, and it was considerably larger and handsomer than his own abode. the dwelling-houses were of an oblong shape, about sixteen feet long and eight wide, with low walls, but high sloping roofs; the doors were so low that it was necessary to stoop when entering. the roofs were thatched with rampo, a plant which grows in the marshes; and the walls were of the same material, thickly matted together, so as to keep out both rain and wind. as the party advanced, waihoura appeared from her wahre, and throwing her arms on lucy's neck, began to weep as if her heart would break. she then conducted her friends into the interior, while the chief took charge of mr marlow, valentine, and harry. waihoura's abode was clean and neat, the ground on each side covered thickly with fern, on the top of which mats were placed to serve as couches. here the maori girl begged her guests to be seated, and having recovered her composure, she thanked lucy warmly for coming, and made inquiries about her friends at riverside. she smiled and laughed, and became so animated, that she scarcely appeared like the same person she had been a few minutes before. she became very grave, however, when lucy asked if her father still insisted on her marrying hemipo. "he does," she answered, in a sad tone. "but i may yet escape, and i will, if i can, at all risks." she pressed her lips together, and looked so firm, that lucy hoped that she would succeed in carrying out her resolution. their conversation was interrupted by a summons to a feast, which the chief had prepared, to do honour to his guests. in the centre of the pah a scaffold was erected, with bars across it, on which were hung up various fish, pieces of pork, and wild-fowl, while on the top were baskets full of sweet and ordinary potatoes, and a variety of other vegetables; and a number of women were employed in cooking, in ovens formed in the ground. these ovens were mere holes filled with hot stones, on the top of which the provisions were placed, and then covered up with leaves and earth. in deference to the customs of their white friends, the natives had prepared seats for them, composed of fern and mats, in the shade of the chief's wahre, while they themselves sat round, at a respectful distance, on the ground, in the hot sun. when all were arranged, the chief, wrapped in his cloak, walked into the centre, and marching backwards and forwards, addressed the party, now turning to his guests, now to his countrymen, the rapidity of his movements increasing, till he appeared to have worked himself into a perfect fury. waihoura, who sat by lucy's side, begged her and her friend not to be alarmed, he was merely acting according to custom. suddenly he stopped, and wrapping his cloak around him, sat down on the ground. mr marlow considered this a good opportunity of speaking to the people, and rising, he walked into their midst. his address, however, was very different to that of the chief's. he reminded them that god, who rules the world, had given them all the food he saw there collected; that he desires to do good to the bodies of men, and to enable them to live in happiness and plenty; but that he loves their souls still more, and that he who had provided them with the food was ready to bestow on them spiritual blessings, to feed their souls as well as their bodies: that their bodies must perish, but that their souls must live for ever--he had sent the missionaries to them with his message of love, and he grieved that they were often more ready to accept only the food for their bodies, and to reject that which he offers for their souls. much more he spoke to the same effect, and explained all that god, their father had done for them when they were banished for their sins, to enable them again to become his dear children. earthly fathers, he continued, are too often ready to sacrifice their children for their own advantage, regardless of their happiness here and of their eternal welfare. ihaka winced when he heard these remarks, and fixed his eyes on the speaker, but said nothing. other chiefs, who had come as guests, also spoke. lucy was glad to find that hemipo was not among them. the feast then commenced, the provisions were handed round in neat clean baskets to each guest. ihaka had provided plates and knives and forks for his english friends, who were surprised to find the perfect way in which the fish and meat, as well as the vegetables, were cooked. after the feast, the young people hurried out of the pah towards a post stuck in the ground, on one side of a bank, with ropes hanging from the top; each one seized a rope, and began running round and round, now up, now down the bank, till their feet were lifted off the ground, much in the way english boys amuse themselves in a gymnasium. in another place a target was set up, at which the elder boys and young men threw their spears, composed of fern stems, with great dexterity. several kites, formed of the flat leaves of a kind of sedge, were also brought out and set flying, with songs and shouts, which increased as the kite ascended higher and higher. a number of the young men exhibited feats of dancing, which were not, however, especially graceful, nor interesting to their guests. when the sun set the party returned to the pah. mr marlow, accompanied by val, went about among the people, addressing them individually, and affording instruction to those who had expressed an anxiety about their souls. ihaka had provided a new wahre for his visitors, while waihoura accommodated lucy and miss osburn in her hut. lucy had hoped to persuade ihaka to allow his daughter to return with her, but he made various excuses, and waihoura expressed her fears that she was not allowed to go on account of hemipo, who objected to her associating with her english friends. next morning the party set out on their return, leaving waihoura evidently very miserable, and anxious about the future. they had got a short distance from the pah, when a chief with several attendants passed them, and lucy felt sure, from the glimpse she got of his features, that he was hemipo, especially as he did not stop, and only offered them a distant salutation. mr marlow again expressed his regret that he had been unable to move ihaka. "still, i believe, that he is pricked in his conscience, and he would be glad of an opportunity of being released from his promise," he remarked. "the chief considers himself, however, in honour bound to perform it, though he is well aware that it must lead to his daughter's unhappiness. i do not, however, suppose that he is biased by any fears of the consequences were he to break off the marriage, though probably if he did so hemipo would attack the fort, and attempt to carry off his bride by force." when the party got back to riverside, their friends were very eager to hear an account of their visit, and several regretted that they had not accompanied them. "who would have thought, miss lucy, when we first came here, that you would ever have slept inside one of those savage's huts!" exclaimed mrs greening. "my notion was, that they would as likely as not eat anybody up who got into their clutches; but i really begin to think that they are a very decent, good sort of people, only i do wish the gentlemen would not make such ugly marks on their faces--it does not improve them, and i should like to tell them so." chapter seven. the beginning of trouble. prosperous condition of the settlement--mr pemberton and his sons go out shooting.--waihoura is observed flying from hemipo, who fires and wounds her.--rescued by mr pemberton and taken to riverside.--val goes for dr fraser.--on their return, rahana, a native chief, saves their lives.--ihaka arrives with his followers to defend the farm, as also do rahana's, but no enemy appears, and they, with waihoura, return to ihaka's pah. the little settlement went on prosperously, the flocks and herds increased, and more land was brought under cultivation; the orchards were producing fruit, and the kitchen gardens an abundance of vegetables. there had been outbreaks of the natives in the northern part of the island, but those in their immediate neighbourhood were supposed to be peaceably disposed, and friendly towards the english. lucy had been for some time expecting to hear from waihoura, and she feared, from the last account she had received from her, that the marriage the poor girl so much dreaded with hemipo, might soon take place. "i am afraid it can't be helped," observed mrs greening, who was trying to console her. "after all, he is her own countryman, and maybe she will improve him when they marry." "oh, but i mourn for her because he is a heathen, and a cruel bad man," said lucy, "and i am sure she is worthy of a better fate." mr pemberton and valentine had shortly after this gone out with their guns to shoot some wild-fowl which had visited the banks of the river. the young pembertons and greenings had built a boat, and as the birds appeared more numerous on the opposite side, harry, who met them, offered to paddle them across. while harry remained in the canoe, they proceeded up a small stream which ran into the main river. they were approaching the border of the forest. although the foliage, entwined by creepers, was so dense towards the upper part of the trees that the rays of the sun were unable to penetrate through it, the lower part was open and free from underwood, thus enabling them to pass among the trees without difficulty, and to see for a considerable distance into its depths. "we shall find no birds there," observed val. "had we not better turn back and continue along the bank of the main stream?" they were just about to do as val proposed, when they caught sight of a figure running at full speed through the forest towards them. "it is a woman, i believe," exclaimed val. "yes, and there is a man following her. she is endeavouring to escape from him. she is crying out, and making signs for us to come to her assistance. she is waihoura!" as he spoke, the savage stopped, then levelled his rifle and fired. waihoura shrieked out, and running a few paces further towards them, fell. "i must punish the villain," exclaimed val, dashing forward. "stay, my boy," said mr pemberton, "he deserves punishment, but not at our hands,--let us try and assist the poor girl." they hurried to where waihoura lay. the bullet had wounded her in the shoulder. meantime the savage had retreated, and when they looked round for him, he was nowhere to be seen. "we must take the poor girl to the house and endeavour to obtain surgical assistance for her," said mr pemberton. they lifted her up and bore her along towards the river. valentine shouted for harry, who quickly came up with the canoe. waihoura was too much agitated to speak, or to tell them by whom she had been wounded. still her countenance exhibited an expression rather of satisfaction than of alarm. harry having secured the canoe, ran on before his father and brother to prepare lucy for the arrival of her friend. waihoura was carried into the house, and placed on the bed she had formerly occupied, while harry ran on to get mrs greening to assist in taking care of her. left with lucy and betsy, waihoura soon recovered her composure. "i have escaped from him," she said, in her broken english. "i have done what i long intended. hemipo came for me to my father's pah, and i was delivered in due form to him, and so my father's honour was satisfied. i went quietly for some distance, as if i was no longer unwilling to accompany him, and then, watching my opportunity, i ran off, hoping to make my escape without being discovered. he saw me, however, and followed, though i was already a long way off. i hoped to reach the river and swim across to you, when he was nearly overtaking me. just then, as he caught sight of your father and brother, in his rage and disappointment he fired at me, and would have killed me had they not come up to prevent him." such was the meaning of the account waihoura gave lucy, as she and betsy were endeavouring to staunch the blood which continued to flow from the wound. as soon as mrs greening arrived, she advised val to set off and obtain dr fraser's assistance. "we may be able to stop the blood, but the hurt is a bad one, and if the bullet is still in the wound, will need a surgeon to take it out," she observed. valentine required no second bidding. harry, indeed, had already got a horse ready. he galloped away, taking the shortest cut across the country to the fort. valentine had to spend some time in searching for dr fraser, who had gone off to a distance, and when he returned he had a patient to whom it was absolutely necessary he should attend. "i'll not be a moment longer than i can help," exclaimed the doctor. "i felt great interest in that pretty little native girl. there's one comfort, that the natives seldom suffer from fever through injuries. you ride back and say i am coming." "i would rather wait for you," answered valentine. though he was sorely annoyed at the delay, it enabled him to give his horse a feed, and to rest the animal, so that there was not so much time lost as he supposed. at length the doctor was ready, and they set off to take the way by which valentine had come. they had gone rather more than half the distance, and were approaching a defile between two high hills, covered thickly with trees, and wild rugged rocks on either side. they were just about to enter it when a maori, who, by the way he was dressed, appeared to be a chief, was seen hurrying down the side of the hill towards them, and beckoning to them to stop. "he wishes to speak to us," said valentine, "shall we wait for him?" "i hope that his intentions are friendly," observed the doctor. "these fellows have been playing some treacherous tricks to the settlers in the north, and it is as well to be prepared." "his manner does not appear to be hostile," observed valentine. "i will ride forward to speak to him." valentine had not gone many paces before he met the native, who hurriedly addressed him in broken english. "go back and take another path," he exclaimed. "if you go forward you will be killed, there's a bad chief, with several men, lying in wait to shoot you. i have only just discovered their intentions, and hurried forward to give you warning." "can you tell us who the chief is?" asked valentine, not feeling very willing to believe the stranger's statement. "his name does not matter," answered the young stranger. "he supposes me to be his friend, and begged me to assist him, so that i do not wish further to betray him, but i could not allow you to suffer." "there may be some truth in what the young man says, and we should be unwise not to take his advice," observed the doctor. valentine warmly thanked the stranger, who offered to lead them by a path he was acquainted with, which would enable them to escape the ambush and reach the river side with little loss of time. he accordingly led them back for some distance, and then striking off to the right over the hills, conducted them through another valley, which in time took them out on to the open plain. "you are safe now," he said. "ride on as fast as you can, so that your enemy may not overtake you." "i should like to know who you are, that we may thank you properly for the benefit you have done us," said valentine, "and i am sure ihaka's daughter, on whose account dr fraser is going to our settlement, will desire to express her gratitude. she is sorely wounded, and i fear in much danger." "wounded and in danger," exclaimed the young stranger. "how has she received an injury?" "she was basely shot at by a maori," answered val. "the chief told me that it was your sister who was ill, and that you having grossly insulted him, he was determined to revenge himself on you." he stopped for a few moments as if for consideration. "i will accompany you," he said. "if i go back i shall not be able to resist accusing him of his treachery, and bloodshed may be the consequence." "come along then, my friend," said the doctor, "you are fleet of foot, and will keep up with our horses." the stranger, a fine young man, one of the handsomest natives valentine had as yet seen--his face being, moreover, undisfigured by tattoo marks,--on this ran forward, and showed by the pace he moved at, that he was not likely to detain them. it was dark when they reached riverside, but lucy had heard the sound of their horses' feet, and came out to meet them. "i am so thankful you have come, doctor," she exclaimed. "waihoura is, i fear, suffering much pain, and we have been able to do little to relieve her." the doctor hurried into the house. his report was more favourable than lucy had expected. he quickly extracted the bullet, and promised, with the good constitution the young girl evidently possessed, that she would soon recover. valentine invited the young stranger to remain, and he evidently showed no desire to take his departure. "i wish to stay for your sakes as well as my own," he said, "and i would advise you to keep a vigilant watch round the house during the night. the man who has committed so foul a deed as to shoot ihaka's daughter, must from henceforth be rahana's foe, and i now confess that it was hemipo who intended to waylay and murder you. i am myself a rangatira, chief of a numerous tribe. my father ever lived on friendly terms with the english, and seeing the folly of war, wished also to be at peace with his neighbours, and i have desired to follow his example. among our nearest neighbours was hemipo, who, though one i could never regard with esteem, has always appeared anxious to retain my friendship. hitherto i have, therefore, frequently associated with him, but from henceforth he must be to me as a stranger. he is capable, i am convinced, of any treachery, and when he finds that you have escaped him on this occasion, will seek another opportunity of revenging himself." this was said partly in english and partly in maori. mr pemberton, following the advice he received, sent to farmer greening and several other neighbours, asking their assistance in guarding waihoura, thinking it possible that hemipo might attack the place and attempt to carry her off. among others who came up was mr spears, with a cartouche-box hanging by a belt to his waist, and a musket in his hand. "neighbours should help each other, mr pemberton," he said as he made his appearance, "and so i have locked up the shop, and shall be happy to stand sentry during the night at any post you may assign me. place me inside the house or outside, or in a cow-shed, it's all the same to me. i'll shoot the first man i see coming up the hill." valentine suggested that mr spears was as likely to shoot a friend as a foe, and therefore placed him, with a companion, in one of the sheds, strictly enjoining him not to fire unless he received an order to do so. from the precautions taken by mr pemberton, it was not likely that hemipo would succeed even should he venture on an attack, especially as every one in the settlement was on the alert. the night passed off quietly, and in the morning dr fraser gave a favourable report of waihoura. a messenger was then despatched to ihaka, to inform him of what had occurred. he arrived before sunset with several of his followers, well-armed, and at once requested to have an interview with his daughter. on coming out of her room he met mr pemberton, and warmly thanked him for having again preserved her life. "from henceforth she is free to choose whom she will for a husband," he observed. "i gave her, as i was bound to do by my promise, to hemipo; but she escaped from him, and as he has proved himself unworthy of her, though war between us be the result, i will not again deliver her to him." lucy, who overheard this, was greatly relieved. not knowing the customs of the maoris, she was afraid that the chief might still consider himself bound to restore waihoura to her intended husband. "i must go at once and tell her," she said. "i am sure that this will greatly assist her recovery." "she knows it. i have already promised her," said ihaka. "and i will remain here and defend her and you, my friends, from hemipo,--though boastful as he is, i do not believe that he will venture to attack a pakeha settlement." rahana, who had hitherto remained at a distance, now came forward, and the two chiefs greeted each other according to their national custom, by rubbing their noses together for a minute or more. they then sat down, and the young chief gave ihaka an account of the part he had taken in the affair. "we have ever been friends," answered ihaka, "and this will cement our friendship closer than ever." they sat for some time talking over the matter, and rahana agreed to send for a band of his people to assist in protecting their friends, and afterwards to escort waihoura to her home. till this time, the only natives who frequented the settlement were the labourers employed on the farm, but now a number of warriors might be seen, with rifles in their hands, some seated on the hillside, others stalking about among the cottages. they all, however, behaved with the greatest propriety, declining even to receive provisions from the inhabitants, both ihaka's and rahana's people having brought an abundant supply. though scouts were sent out in every direction, nothing was heard of hemipo, and it was supposed that he had returned to his own village--either being afraid of meeting those he had injured, or to hatch some plan of revenge. dr fraser, who had gone home when he considered waihoura out of danger, returned, at the end of a fortnight, and pronounced her sufficiently recovered to undertake the journey home, to which ihaka was anxious to convey her, as she would be there safer from any design hemipo might entertain, than in the unprotected cottage at riverside. lucy, although she would gladly have had her remain longer, felt that this was the case. the maori girl warmly embraced her before taking her seat on the covered litter constructed for her conveyance, and willingly gave a promise to return to riverside as soon as her father considered it safe for her to do so. the young chief had constituted himself her chief attendant, and when they set out placed himself by her side, which he showed no intention of quitting. it appeared that they had hitherto been strangers to each other, but lucy, having observed the admiration with which he had regarded waihoura the first time they met, pleased with his manners, could not help hoping that he might become a christian, and a successful suitor of her friend. she watched the party as they took their way along the road, till they were lost to sight among the trees; and from the judicious precautions they took of throwing out scouts, she trusted that they would, escape being surprised even should hemipo be on the watch for them, and would reach their destination in safety. as soon as they were gone the settlement returned to its usual quiet state. after the character they had heard of hemipo, mr pemberton considered it prudent to keep a watch at night, and to advise the greenings, as well as his own sons, to carry arms in their hands, and never to go singly to a distance from the house. day after day passed by, till at length they began to feel that such precautions were unnecessary, and by degrees they abandoned the habit, only occasionally taking their guns when they went out to shoot birds, or when the traces of a wild pig, which happened to stray from the mountains, were discovered in the neighbourhood. few countries in the world are so destitute of game or animals of any description, or of noxious reptiles, as new zealand; the only reptile, indeed, being a harmless lizard, while the only wild beasts are the descendants of pigs originally introduced by europeans, which having escaped from their owners to the forests where they roam at large. unhappily, although many of the natives lived on the most friendly terms with the english, and had made considerable advancement in civilisation, a large number still, at that period, retained much of their former savage character, and, instigated perhaps by evilly-disposed persons, from time to time rose in aims against the english, and though inferior in numbers to the settlers, were enabled, in their mountain fastnesses, to resist the attacks of well-trained troops sent against them. they sometimes descended on the unprepared settlements, murdered the inhabitants, and committed many fearful atrocities. of late years, however, finding resistance vain, they have submitted to the english government, and as they possess equal rights and privileges with the settlers, and are treated in every respect as british subjects, it may be hoped that they will become, ere long, thoroughly civilised and contented with their lot, so infinitely superior to that of their former savage state. at the time, however, that the occurrences which have been described took place, although cannibalism and their more barbarous customs were almost abandoned, still a number of the tribes were hostile to the english, and also carried on a fierce warfare among themselves. our friends at riverside were destined shortly to feel the ill effects of this state of things. chapter eight. carried off. disturbance among the natives.--volunteers from the settlement.--mr pemberton and val called away.--the settlers, to their dismay, discover that the young pembertons have been carried off. lucy had made tea, and her father and brother, who had come in from their work, had just taken their seats, when mr spears, announced by betsy, popped his head in at the door. "beg pardon, mr pemberton, for intruding, but i thought you would like to have this letter at once," he said, handing an official-looking envelope. "i have sent several others of similar appearance to a number of gentlemen in our neighbourhood, and i suspect they mean something." lucy observed that her father's countenance assumed a grave expression as he read the document; after requesting the bearer to sit down and take a cup of tea. "more disturbances among the natives?" asked mr spears. "i hope, though, that they will keep quiet in these parts." "yes, i am sorry to say that they have risen in much greater numbers than heretofore, and matters look very serious," answered mr pemberton. "the governor has requested me to assist in organising a body of volunteers to co-operate with the loyal natives in this district, and to keep in check any of the maoris who may be inclined to rebel, while the troops are engaged with the main body of the insurgents. i am afraid this will compel me to be absent from home for some time." "may i go with you?" exclaimed harry. "i should so like to have some soldiering." "no, you must stay at home to take care of lucy and the farm," answered mr pemberton. "val, you are named, and though i would rather have left you in charge, we must obey the calls of public duty. farmer greening will assist harry; paul and james will probably accompany me." "put my name down as a volunteer," exclaimed mr spears. "i'll have my musket and cartouche-box ready in a trice. i shall be proud to go out and fight my country's battles." "take my advice, mr spears, and stay at home to look after your shop and the settlement--some must remain behind to guard it," said mr pemberton. "i am ready for the field, or for garrison duty," answered the little man, rising, and drawing himself up. "i must go back with the news to the village; the people are suspecting that there is something in the wind." mr pemberton and valentine soon made the necessary preparations for their departure, and early the next morning, in company with several other settlers, set out on their expedition. as the natives in their immediate neighbourhood had always appeared very friendly, they had no anxiety about the safety of riverside. time passed on; news reached the settlement that the volunteers had on several occasions been engaged, and that the insurgents still made head against them. lucy could not help feeling anxious at the prolonged absence of her father and brother; but as they wrote word that they were well, she kept up her spirits, hoping that the natives would soon be convinced of the uselessness and folly of their rebellion, and that peace would be established. she also received visits from mary osburn and other friends, and mrs greening never failed to look in on her two or three times in the day, while her husband kept his eye on the farm, and assisted harry in managing affairs. lucy had hoped that by this time it would be safe for waihoura to pay her a visit, and she had sent a message inviting her to come to riverside. in reply, waihoura expressed her thanks for the invitation, but stated that as her father was absent with many of his people, taking a part in the war, she could not venture to quit home. she also mentioned that hemipo was supposed to have joined the rebels, as he had not for some time been seen in the neighbourhood. a short time after this, as harry was standing on the bank of the river, near which his sheep were feeding, he observed a small canoe gliding down the stream. a single native was in it, who, as soon as he saw him, paddled up to where he stood. the stranger leaped on shore, and asked harry, in maori, pointing to the hill, whether he did not belong to that place. as harry understood very little maori, he could but imperfectly comprehend what the man, who appeared to be delivering a message, was saying. the stranger, perceiving this, tried to help his meaning by dumb show, and harry heard him repeat the name of hemipo several times. the man placed himself on the ground, and shut his eyes, as if he was asleep, then he jumped up, and, moving away, ran up to the spot, and pretended to be lifting up a person whom he carried to the canoe. he did this several times then he flourished his arms as if engaged with a foe, leaping fiercely about from side to side, and then jumped into his canoe and began to shove it off, as if he was going to paddle up the stream. he returned, however, again coming up to harry, and, with an inquiring look, seemed to ask whether he was understood? harry asked him to repeat what he had said, and at length made out, as he thought, that the stranger wished to warn him that the settlement would be attacked at night, while the inhabitants were asleep, by hemipo, whose object was to carry them off as prisoners, but when this was likely to take place he could not discover. the stranger, who was evidently in a great hurry to be off again, seemed satisfied that he was understood, and, getting into his canoe, paddled rapidly up the river. "i wish that i understood the maori better," thought harry, "i should not then be in doubt about the matter; however, it will be as well to be prepared. we will fortify our house, and keep a bright look out, and i'll tell the other people to be on the watch." he soon after met toby, and telling him to look to the sheep, hurried homewards. lucy listened calmly to his account. "there is, i fear, no doubt that some harm is intended us," she observed. "but we must pray that it may be averted, and do what we can to guard against it. i think our six native labourers are faithful, and we must place three of them in the house, and send the other three out as scouts to give us notice of the approach of an enemy. i propose also that we have a large pile of firewood made above the house, that, as soon as danger threatens it may be lighted as a signal to our friends in the neighbourhood. you must tell them of our intention, and ask them to come to our assistance as soon as they see the fire blazing up." "you ought to have been a man, and you would have made a first-rate soldier," exclaimed harry, delighted at lucy's idea. "it is the wisest thing that could be done; i'll tell everybody you thought of it, and i am sure they will be ready to help us." "but perhaps they will think that the whole place is to be attacked, and if so, the men will not be willing to leave their own homes and families," observed lucy. "oh, but i am sure the maori intended to warn us especially, for he pointed to our hill while he was speaking," said harry. "then he mentioned hemipo, who probably has a spite against us for rescuing waihoura from him. however, there's no time to be lost. i'll tell the men to cut the wood for the bonfire, and go on to let mr osburn and our other friends know about the matter." having charged lucy and betsy to close the doors and windows, and not to go out of the house, he went to tell the other people. the farmer was out, but he told mrs greening what he had heard. "oh, it would be terrible if any harm was to happen to miss lucy, and the squire and master val away," exclaimed the good woman; "i'd sooner our place were all burned down than that--i'll go round to her and persuade her to come here--then, if the savages go to your house they will not find her, and if they come here, the farmer and tobias, i'll warrant, will fight for her as long as they have got a bullet or a charge of powder remaining." harry warmly thanked mrs greening for her generous intentions, though he doubted very much whether lucy would consent to leave the house. he then hurried on to the village. mr spears, at whose house he first called, was thrown into a great state of agitation on hearing of his apprehensions. "i'll go round and tell all the other people, and we will see what can be done," he exclaimed, getting down his musket. "we will fight bravely for our homes and hearths; but dear me, i wish all the people who are away would come back. these savages are terrible fellows, and if they were to come suddenly upon us at night, as you fancy they will, we may find ourselves in a very unpleasant predicament." while mr spears went off in one direction, harry continued on to the house of their friend mr osburn, which was at no great distance. he, though expressing a hope that the stranger had been amusing himself at harry's expense, undertook to collect the rest of the neighbours, and to make preparations to go to his assistance should the signal-fire give them notice that the house had been attacked. "i would offer at once to go up and assist in guarding you," he said. "but i am afraid that our other friends will not be willing to leave their own cottages undefended; indeed, i think we shall more effectually assist you by following the plan you propose. still, i would advise you not to be over anxious about the matter, though you will do wisely to take the precautions you propose." harry, feeling somewhat proud of himself, and tolerably well satisfied with the arrangements he had made, returned home. he found the farmer and mr greening at the house. they had in vain attempted to persuade lucy to pass the night at their house--she would not leave harry, who said that, as he had charge of the place, nothing would induce him to desert his post, and they hoped, with the precautions taken, they might escape the threatened danger. "depend upon it, if the savages really come and find us prepared they will not venture to attack the house," said harry. "well, well, i like your spirit, master harry," said the farmer. "i'll be on the watch, and if i hear the sound of a musket i shall know what it means, and will be quickly round with my four natives." at length the farmer and mrs greening took their departure. harry had spoken to the native servants, who seemed fully to understand what was expected of them, and promised to be vigilant. betsy had undertaken to keep a lantern burning, and to run out at the back-door at the first signal of danger, and light the bonfire. harry tried to persuade lucy to go to bed. "of course i shall sit up myself and keep watch for anything that happens," he said; "and if you fall asleep, lucy, i'll awaken you if necessary." after commending themselves to the care of god, and reading together, as usual, a chapter in the bible, the two young people sat down with their books before them to wait the issue of events, harry, however, every now and then got up and ran to the door to listen, fancying he heard some sounds in the distance. hour after hour passed by, and neither foe nor friend appeared. the night seemed very long, but at length the morning light streamed through the openings above the shutters. harry opened the door, the air was pure and fresh, and the scene before him appeared so calm and peaceful, that he felt much inclined to laugh at his own fears. the native servants, who had been on the watch, came in also, and declared that they had seen no one, nor heard the slightest sound during the night to alarm them. in a short time farmer greening arrived, and expressed his satisfaction at finding that they had had no cause for alarm. "perhaps after all, master harry, the man was only passing a joke on you, though it was as well to be on the safe side, and to be prepared." lucy had several visitors during the day, who appeared much inclined to consider they had been unnecessarily alarmed. "we may or may not have been," observed harry, "but i intend to keep the same look out tonight as before." the second night passed over like the former, and harry himself now owned that unless the stranger purposely intended to deceive him, he must have misunderstood his meaning. the evening came on, the cows had been milked, the pigs and poultry fed, and other duties attended to. they were in their sitting-room reading, when betsy came in and announced mr spears. "i hope i don't intrude, miss lucy," he said, putting his head in at the doorway in his usual half-hesitating manner, "but i could not shut up my house for the night without coming to inquire how you are getting on. well, master harry, the maoris who were to attack us have turned out to be phantoms after all, pleasanter foes to fight with than real savages. however, you behaved very well, my young friend, and i hope you will get a quiet night's rest, and sleep free from alarm." "thank you for your kind wishes," answered lucy, "but still i hope that you and our other friends will be on the watch, for i cannot feel altogether secure till our father and brother return." "never fear, miss lucy, we will be ready if your phantom foes come. pardon me, master harry, for calling them phantom foes, but such they are, i suspect. ah! ah! ah!" and mr spears laughed at his own conceit. as lucy did not wish to encourage the little man, she did not invite him to sit down, and, somewhat to her relief, he soon went away. mr spears had reached home, and was shutting up his cottage, when, looking towards the hill, he saw the beacon fire blazing up. he rushed back for his musket, and began to load it in great haste; but in vain he pulled the trigger, it would not go off--no wonder, for he had forgotten to put on a cap. not discovering this, having knocked at the doors of his immediate neighbours, and told them that the settlement was attacked, he ran as fast as his legs could carry him to mr osburn. though that gentleman turned out immediately, it was sometime before he could collect the rest of the inhabitants, when some with firearms, and others with pitchforks, or any weapons they could lay hands on, rushed up the hill towards mr pemberton's farm. they were joined on the way by farmer greening and tobias. all round the house seemed quiet, and not a sign of a maori could be discovered. "there's been some trick played," said farmer greening, "for all my servants went off this evening, and i should not be surprised that mr pemberton's have done the same; but i hope master harry has kept the door shut, and not let the enemy inside." as may be supposed, on reaching the house, their consternation and grief was very great when they discovered that the inmates had gone; and from the overturned chairs, and the back and front doors being open, their alarm for the safety of their young friends was greatly increased. "the savages have undoubtedly come and carried them off, but we may yet be in time to overtake them, if we can ascertain in what direction they have gone," said mr osburn. "see, the orchard gate is open," said farmer greening. "they must have gone this way, by the path which leads to the river." they went on a little farther, when tobias picked up a handkerchief. "that must be miss lucy's," he exclaimed, "and probably dropped on purpose," observed mr osburn. on reaching the river, no signs, however, of the savages nor their captives were to be seen; and though they hurried along the bank for some distance, they were at length compelled to return, in a state of increased anxiety for their young friends, to the settlement. chapter nine. the rescue. lucy and harry carried off by hemipo, who takes them to his pah.--lucy explains the truth to a native girl who attends her.--waihoura appears, and assists them to escape.--encounter hemipo, who is conquered by rahana.--hemipo allowed to go free.--happy return to riverside with waihoura and her party.--great rejoicings.--hemipo becomes a christian.--waihoura marries rahana, and the settlement flourishes. lucy and harry were spending their evening, as was their usual custom, harry reading aloud while his sister sat by his side working. mr spears had not long gone away, when a slight knock was heard at the door. "i do believe it must be that mr spears come back again," observed betsy, getting up to open it. as she did so, what was her horror to see the figure of a tall maori warrior, his face painted red, with his merai or axe in his hand. "run, miss lucy! run, master harry, and hide yourselves!" she exclaimed, attempting to push back the door. her efforts were vain, the savage dashed it open and stalked in, followed by a dozen or more maoris. "light the bonfire!" exclaimed lucy,--and betsy, springing by her, made her escape at the back-door. harry tried to drag off lucy in the same direction, but they were both instantly seized by the maoris, two of whom sprang after betsy. scarcely a word was spoken by any of the natives, and lucy had been too much agitated and alarmed to shriek out. the leader, in whom, by his sinister features and fierce looks, lucy recognised hemipo, had raised his weapon as if to strike harry, but he restrained himself on finding that there was no opposition. he and one of his companions now bound harry's arms, making signs to him that if he made any noise his brains would be dashed out. two others then lifted up lucy, and taking a cloak which hung on the wall, threw it round her. plunder did not appear to be their object; for, although numerous articles were lying about which would have been of value to them, none were taken. the savages now lifted up lucy and harry in their arms and carried them out of the house. harry looked round, hoping to see some of the native servants. no one appeared. "i hope, at all events, that betsy may have set light to the signal-fire, that if we are carried away our friends will come in pursuit of us," he said to himself. great was his disappointment when directly afterwards he saw betsy brought along in the arms of two of the savages. "i have done it though, master harry," she exclaimed, loud enough for him to hear. "i had just time to throw the candle in among the sticks and paper before they caught me,--i do not think they saw what i had been about, or they would have stopped and put it out." a savage growl, and the hand of one of her captors placed over her mouth, prevented betsy from saying any more. the whole party now moved down the hill at a rapid rate towards the river. on reaching the bank the young captives were placed on board a canoe, several of which were collected at the spot. harry felt a little relieved when his arms were unbound, and he was allowed to sit at his ease beside lucy. the savages evidently supposed that he would not attempt to leap out and swim on shore. the flotilla shoved off. the night was very dark, but the maoris, well acquainted with the river, navigated dexterously amid the rocks and occasional rapids in their course. now and then the water could be seen bubbling up on either side, and sometimes leaping over the gunwale, and once or twice so much came in that harry feared the canoe would be swamped. "if we are upset, stick to me, lucy," he whispered. "i'll swim with you to the shore, and we will then run off and try and make our escape." lucy felt confident of her young brother's courage, but feared that there was little prospect of his succeeding in the attempt. poor betsy shrieked out with alarm. a threatening sound from the man who steered the canoe warned her to keep silence. there had been for sometime a strong wind, it now increased, and blowing directly against them, greatly impeded the progress of the canoes. still the maoris persevered. at length a loud clap of thunder burst from the sky. it was succeeded by several terrific peals, while vivid flashes of forked lightning darting forth showed that they were passing between high rugged cliffs which rose on either side of the stream, overhung with trees, amid which the wind roared and whistled as they waved to and fro above their heads, threatening every instant, torn up by the roots, to fall over and crush them. the thunder rattled louder than ever, reverberating among the cliffs. just then a flash, brighter than its predecessors, which came hissing along close to the canoe, showed harry the savage features of hemipo, who was sitting in the stern steering. still the canoe went on, indeed, as far as harry could see there was no place on either side where they could have landed, and he earnestly prayed that, should any accident happen, it might be further on, where there would be a hope of reaching the shore. lucy sat with her hands clasped in his, and her calmness and self-possession gave him courage. "oh, what a dear brave little sister mine is," he thought to himself. "i would willingly give up my life to save her's. i wonder what these savages will do with us. they surely cannot be so barbarous as to intend to kill her,--they may knock me on the head very likely, and i only wonder they did not do so at first, it would have been more like their usual custom." the rain was now falling in torrents. harry drew the cloaks which had been thrown over lucy and betsy closer round them. he was himself quickly wet through, but for that he cared little. though it was evident that the paddlers were straining every nerve to urge the canoe onwards, he could judge by the appearance of the cliffs that they were making but slow progress, sometimes, indeed, they were almost brought to a standstill, then again they would redouble their efforts, and the wind lulling for a short time, they would stem the rapid current and get into calmer water. it was difficult to judge, under the circumstances, how time went by, but it seemed to harry that the whole night was thus spent. still the darkness continued, and hour after hour passed. at length the banks came more clearly into view, and he could distinguish the other canoes in company. suddenly the cliffs on either side ceased, and he found that they had entered a lake. covered, however, as it was with foaming waves stirred up by the storm, it seemed scarcely possible for the canoes to make their way across it. after they had in vain attempted to do so, and several of them had been nearly swamped, harry perceived that they were steering towards the shore. they made their way up a small inlet, where, sheltered from the gale, the canoes at length floated quietly, and their crews set to work to bail them out. this being done, harry observed that they were examining their muskets, and fresh priming them, lest they should have become damp with the rain. he hoped from this that they had not yet reached hemipo's district, and were still in that of some friendly tribe. meantime a man was sent on shore, who ran to the summit of a neighbouring height, where harry saw him looking round, as if to ascertain whether any one was approaching. on his return, after he had given his report, hemipo landed, and with scant ceremony dragged his prisoners out of the canoe, and signed to them that they were to accompany him. eight of the savages immediately landed and closed round them. having issued orders to the remainder, he led the way towards the entrance of a valley which extended up from the water. lucy and betsy could with difficulty walk after having been so long cramped up in the canoe. harry begged his sister to lean on him, that he might help her along, and poor betsy did her best to keep up with them, for the savages showed no inclination to slacken their pace. every now and then, indeed, one of them gave her a rough push to make her move faster. harry felt very indignant, but knew that it would be useless to expostulate, and dreaded lest lucy might be treated in the same way. the valley through which they were proceeding he found ran parallel with the lake, and concluded, as was the case, that it would at length conduct them to an upper part of the stream, which, had it not been for the storm, hemipo intended to have reached in the canoes. the chief stalked on ahead, every now and then turning round to order his followers to move faster. the valley, as they proceeded, narrowed considerably; the sides, composed of wild rugged rocks with overhanging trees crowning their summits, rising precipitously on either hand. harry observed that the chief, as they advanced, looked cautiously ahead, as if he thought it possible that an enemy might appear to intercept him. suddenly he stopped altogether, and addressed a few words to his followers, while he pointed up the valley. what he said harry could not understand, but several of the savages directly afterwards drew their merais from their belts, and cast fierce looks at their captives, which too clearly indicated their cruel designs. "oh, our dear father, my poor brother," murmured lucy, as her eye glanced at the savages' weapons, and she clung closer to harry, thinking of those she loved more than of herself. "yet they cannot be so cruel." "are they going to kill us?" cried betsy. "dear, dear miss lucy," and she stretched out her arms as if to protect her young mistress. after waiting a short time hemipo ordered two of his men to go ahead, apparently to ascertain if the road was clear. they seemed satisfied that such was the case, for at a sign from them he and the rest proceeded as before. harry, as they advanced, could not help looking up frequently at the cliffs on either side, and more than once he fancied he saw some person moving among the rocks as if observing them, while at the same time endeavouring to remain concealed. if such was the case, the person managed to escape the keen eyes of the maoris, for hemipo went on, evidently not supposing that he was watched. at length they emerged from the defile, and proceeding over a more open, though still a hilly and picturesque country, till they again came in sight of the river. by this time lucy and betsy were nearly dropping with fatigue, and even harry, though accustomed to exercise, felt very tired, but the savages still urged them on, regardless of their weary legs. harry felt very indignant, but lucy entreated him not to show his resentment. at last a hill, round the base of which the river made its way, rose directly before them, with a stockade on its summit, similar to that surrounding ihaka's village. hemipo led the way towards it, and ascended a narrow path, at the top of which appeared a gateway, with a huge hideous figure above it. as he approached a number of women and children and old men issued forth eyeing his captives with no pleasant looks. scarcely a word, however, was exchanged between the inhabitants and him till they entered the pah, when the whole party seated themselves on the ground, each of them singling out one of the new comers, and began rubbing their noses together, howling and weeping, while the tears, in copious torrents, flowed down their brown cheeks. under other circumstances, harry, who with his sister and betsy, were left standing alone, would have felt inclined to laugh heartily at the odd scene, but matters were too serious to allow him to do so now. after the savages had rubbed their noses, howled, and shed a sufficiency of tears to satisfy their feelings, they got up with dry eyes and unconcerned looks, as if nothing of the sort had occurred. they then came round their captives, who were allowed to stand unmolested, while hemipo was apparently giving an account of his adventures. lucy and betsy trembled as they saw the fierce glances cast at them during the chief's address; their lives seemed to hang on a thread, for any moment his auditors, whom he appeared to be working into a fury, might rush forward and cut them down with the merais, which, ever and anon, they clutched as if eager to use them. at length he ceased, when another orator got up, and appeared to be endeavouring to calm the angry feelings of the assembly. others spoke in the same strain, and at last the orator, who had opposed hemipo, having gained his object, so it seemed, came up to the captives and signed to them to accompany him. leading them to a large wahre on one side of the pah, he told them to enter. lucy, overcome with fatigue, sank on a heap of fern, which covered part of the floor. "cheer up," said harry, "they do not intend to kill us, and i hope that chief, who looks more good-natured than hemipo, will think of bringing us some food. i'll let him know that we want it." harry went back to the door at which the chief was still standing, and made signs that they were very hungry. the chief evidently understood him, and in a short time a girl appeared with a basket of sweet potatoes, some baked fish, and a bowl of water. lucy thanked her warmly in maori, saying that she might some day have the opportunity of rewarding her, adding-- "our people will be grateful for any kindness shown us, and though we have been most cruelly carried away from our home, yet they will not revenge themselves on the innocent." the girl, whom lucy supposed from her appearance to be a slave, looked very much surprised. "our religion teaches us that we should forgive our enemies, and do good to those who injure us, and therefore still more should we be grateful to all who do us good," she continued. "do you understand that?" the girl shook her head, and made signs to lucy and her companions to eat while the food was hot; they needed, indeed, no second bidding, the girl standing by while they discussed the meal. lucy feeling the importance of gaining the good-will of any person in the village, again spoke to the girl, much to the same effect as before. the latter evidently understood her, and made a sign that if discovered in helping them to escape she would be killed. lucy's words had, however, it seemed, made an impression on her mind, for when she stooped down to take up the basket and bowl, she whispered that she would do what she could to be of use to them. they were now left alone. harry entreated his companions to go to sleep, declaring that he was able to sit up and keep watch; and in spite of their anxiety, they were so weary, that in a few minutes their eyes closed, and they happily forgot all that had occurred. harry kept awake as well as he could, and every now and then he observed women and children, and sometimes men, peering at them through the open door of the hut. discovering, however, a chick mat spread on a framework leaning against the side of the hut, he conjectured that it was intended to use as a door, and, accordingly, placing it across the entrance, shut out the intruders. having now nothing to distract his attention, he very soon dropped off to sleep. it was dark when he awoke, and as there were no sounds in the village he concluded that it was night, and he hoped that they might therefore be allowed to rest in quiet. he went to the door of the hut and looked out. no one was stirring, the storm had ceased, and the stars were shining brightly overhead. he again carefully closed the entrance, securing it with some poles, so that it could not be opened from the outside, and throwing himself on the fern at lucy's feet, was soon fast asleep. he was awakened by hearing some one attempting to open the door--the daylight was streaming in through the crevices--on pulling it aside the slave girl, who had brought their supper, appeared with a basket of food and a bowl of water, as before. the light awoke lucy and betsy, who seemed refreshed by their slumbers, though their faces were still pale and anxious. the girl pointed to the food and bade them eat, but seemed unwilling to stay. "let us say our prayers, harry, as we should do at home, before breakfast," said lucy, "though we have not a bible to read." they knelt down, and lucy offered up a prayer of thanksgiving to god for having preserved them, and for further protection, while the maori girl stood by wondering what they were about. she then hurried away, as they supposed, from having received orders not to remain with them. they were left alone all the morning, and at noon the girl brought them a further supply of food. "this looks as if the maoris did not intend to do us any harm, perhaps they expect to get a ransom for us," observed harry. "i trust so," said lucy, "and i am sure our friends would pay it should our father and val be still absent from home; but, perhaps, hemipo has some other object in carrying us off." "what can that be?" asked harry. "the idea came into my mind, and i fear it is too likely that he has done so, in order to get waihoura into his power. if she believes that our lives are in danger, she will, i am sure, be ready to do anything to save them," answered lucy. "how should she know that we have been carried away," asked harry. "she will suspect something when our labourers suddenly return to her village, and will send to ascertain what has occurred," observed lucy. "if it was not for your sake, lucy, i would run every risk rather than let the poor girl fall into the power of the savage," exclaimed harry. "i hope that our father and val, and the volunteers, will find out where we have been carried to, and will come to attack the pah and rescue us." "that would cause great loss of life, and, perhaps, seal our fate," answered lucy. "i have been praying, and he who does not allow a sparrow to fall to the ground without knowing it, will arrange matters for the best. the knowledge that he does take care of us should give us confidence and hope." "i am sure you are right," observed harry, after a few minutes reflection. "still we cannot help talking of what we wish." in the afternoon, harry going to the door of the hut, heard voices as if in loud discussion at a distance, and observing no one about, he crept on among the huts till he came in sight of a number of people seated on the ground, apparently holding a debate, for one after the other got up and addressed the rest. keeping himself concealed behind the hut, he watched them for some time, at length he saw hemipo and a body of armed men issue out by the gate. he crept back to the hut with this information. as far as he could ascertain, only the old men, and women, and children, were left in the pah. late in the evening the slave girl again visited them, and, as she appeared less anxious than before to hurry away, lucy spoke to her. at last she answered-- "what manima can do she will do for the pakehas, but they must wait-- perhaps something will happen." she said this in a very low voice, and taking up the basket and bowl, hurried away. harry found that no one interfered with him as he walked about outside the hut; but he did not like to go far from lucy and betsy, and darkness coming on, he returned. after he had closed the door, they offered up their prayers as usual, and lying down, soon fell asleep. lucy was awakened by feeling a hand pressed on her shoulder. she was inclined to cry out, when she heard a low voice saying in maori-- "don't be afraid, call your brother and betsy." lucy, to her astonishment, recognised the voice of waihoura, and without waiting to ask questions, awakened harry and betsy. a few words served to explain what she had heard, and they at once got up and followed waihoura out of the hut. she led the way among the wahres the inmates of which, they knew from the sounds which issued forth, were fast asleep. they soon reached the inner end of the pah, behind the public store-house, the largest building in the village, when waihoura pointed to an opening in the stockade. it was so narrow that only slight people could have passed through it. waihoura, taking lucy's hand, led her through it, but betsy almost stuck as she made the attempt. with some assistance from harry, she however succeeded in getting on the other side, when he following, found that they were standing on the top of a cliff. waihoura again taking lucy's hand, showed them a narrow and zigzag path which led down it. they followed her, as she cautiously descended towards the river, which harry saw flowing below them. on reaching the edge of the water waihoura stepped into a canoe, which had hitherto been hidden by a rock. the rest of the party entering it, two men who were sitting with their paddles ready, immediately urged the canoe out into the stream, down which they impelled it with rapid strokes, while waihoura, taking another paddle, guided its course. not a word was spoken, for all seemed to know exactly what was to be done. they had entirely lost sight of the hills on which the pah stood, before waihoura uttered a word. she then, in a whisper, addressed lucy, who was sitting close to her, apparently considering, even then, that great caution was necessary. they were passing between high cliffs, amid which the slightest sound, harry rightly guessed, might be carried, and heard by any one posted on them. the paddlers redoubled their efforts, till at length they got into a broader part of the river. lucy then, in a low voice, told harry that waihoura had heard of their capture from the labourers, who had returned home, and had immediately formed a plan for their rescue. she had friends in hemipo's pah, for all were not as bad as he was, and among them was manima, who belonged to a friendly tribe, and had been carried off some time before by hemipo, with others, as a slave. she had herself, with a party of her people, immediately set out, and knowing the route they would have to take, had remained in ambush with the intention of rescuing them; but fearing that hemipo would put them to death should he find himself attacked, she resolved to employ stratagem to set them at liberty. she had at once sent a message to manima, and on finding that hemipo had set out on another expedition, she had herself that very night entered the pah in disguise, and arranged the plan which had thus far been carried out. "she tells us," added lucy, "that her only fear arises from the possibility of meeting hemipo, who has gone down the river in his war canoes, though for what object she could not ascertain. she advises us to keep very silent, as should he be anywhere near, he is certain to have scouts on the watch, though we may hope to escape them in the darkness of night." "as i said of you, lucy, she would make a first-rate general," observed harry, "and i hope for her sake, as well as ours, that she will prove herself a successful leader." scarcely had harry spoken when a loud voice hailed them from the shore, and a bullet whistled close to them. "don't cry out," whispered waihoura. "the man will take some time to load again, and we may get beyond his reach." her hopes were, however, vain, for directly afterwards several canoes darted from behind some rocks, and surrounding them, their canoe was towed to the shore. "they are hemipo's people," said waihoura. "but keep silence, he is not among them, and they will merely keep us prisoners till he comes, and something may happen in the meantime." the country was tolerably level beyond the bank where the canoes lay. there was sufficient light from the stars to enable harry to see for some distance inland, and he recognised the spot as the same place at which they had been taken on shore on their way up the river. after waiting a considerable time, he observed a party of men moving along from the direction of the valley, and coming towards the canoes. he was afraid that they were hemipo and his band. "how will the savage treat us, and those who have been trying to aid our escape?" he thought. just then he caught sight of another and very much larger party coming from nearly the opposite direction. the first stopped and seemed trying to hide themselves behind some rocks and bushes, but the others had seen them, and uttering loud cries, rushed forward, then came the flashes and rattle of musketry, with reiterated cries for a few minutes, when the smaller party giving way, attempted to fly, but were quickly surrounded. the people in the canoes, on seeing this, shoved off from the bank, and endeavoured to drag waihoura's canoe with them. the crew resisted; a blow on his head, however, struck down one of the men, and it appeared too probable that their enemies would succeed in their object. they had got out into the middle of the stream, when several more canoes were seen rounding a point below them. waihoura uttered a loud cry, and the canoes came rapidly paddling towards them. their captors, on seeing this, allowed her to go free, and began making their way as fast as they could up the river. "who are you?" asked waihoura, as the strangers' canoes approached. "we are rahana's people, and he ordered us to come here to stop hemipo from descending the river, while he proceeded on by land," was the answer. "then it is rahana who has gained the victory," exclaimed waihoura, and, escorted by her friends, she guided her canoe towards the shore, harry taking the paddle of the poor man who had been struck down. they quickly landed, when a messenger despatched to rahana brought him to where waihoura and her english companions were seated on some rocks by the bank of the river. he spoke earnestly for a few minutes to waihoura. lucy, from what he said, learned that she had sent to ask his assistance, and that ascertaining the proceedings of hemipo, he had set out with all his followers to meet him and compel him to restore the prisoners he had carried off. "he and many of his people are now in my hands, for before they could escape we surrounded them and captured them all," he said, addressing lucy and harry. "they deserve death,--do you wish that we should kill them, or give them into the hands of your countrymen?" "oh no, no, spare their lives," exclaimed lucy. "we should do good to our enemies, and we would far rather let them go free. we are thankful to have been rescued from their power, but more than that we do not desire." "that is a strange thing the pakeha girl says," remarked rahana to waihoura. "is it according to the religion you desire to teach me?" "oh yes, yes," exclaimed waihoura. "i know that lucy is right. she has told me that he who came to die and be punished that men might enjoy happiness hereafter, blessed his enemies, and did good to those who injured him." "then they shall live," said rahana. "i will set hemipo free, and tell him that it is by the wish of the pakehas, and that he must henceforth be their friend and ally, and abandoning the cruel customs of our people, learn the good religion, which has made them act thus towards him." lucy and harry knowing the alarm their disappearance must have caused to mrs greening and their other friends, were anxious to return home immediately. waihoura offered to accompany them, and begged rahana that he would allow one of his canoes to convey them down the river. "i will myself take charge of them, and i shall be proud to deliver them in safety to their friends," he answered. "i will, however, first obey their wish, and set hemipo and his followers free, after i have deprived them of their arms, which belong to my warriors." while the canoes were getting ready for the voyage down the river, fires were lighted, and fish and other provisions were cooked, some of which were presented to waihoura and her friends, greatly to harry's satisfaction, who declared that he had seldom felt so hungry in his life; though lucy and betsy, still scarcely recovered from their agitation, partook of the repast but sparingly. meantime rahana had gone back to where he had left his warriors and their prisoners. he shortly returned, accompanied by another person. as they approached the spot where waihoura and her friends sat, the light of the fire showed that rahana's companion was hemipo. he looked greatly crestfallen, but recovering himself, he addressed waihoura. neither lucy nor harry could clearly understand him; but they gathered from what he said that he desired to express his gratitude for having his life spared, and sorrow for his conduct towards her, as also for having carried off her friends, and that if they would send a missionary to him he would gladly listen to his instruction. it evidently cost him much to speak as he did. she was glad when the interview was over, and rahana told him that he might now depart in peace. waihoura and her friends were now conducted to the largest canoe, in which rahana also took his seat. they had not proceeded far down the river when day broke, and the neighbouring woods burst forth with a chorus of joyful song, the sky overhead was blue and pure, the waters bright and clear, and the grass and shrubs, which grew on the banks, sparkled with bright dewdrops. "see, see," exclaimed harry. "there's a whole fleet of boats coming up the river." rahana, on observing them, went ahead of his flotilla with a flag waving at the bow of his canoe. "there is our father, there is val," exclaimed harry. the canoe was soon alongside one of the largest boats. a few words explained all that had occurred. mr pemberton and his companions had returned home the day after his children and servant had been carried off, when an expedition had immediately been organised to sail up the river and attack hemipo's pah, it being at once suspected that he had committed the outrage. as there was now no necessity to proceed further, the boats' bows were turned down the stream, harry, with his sister and betsy, having gone on board mr pemberton's. accompanied by the canoes, a strong current being in their favour, they soon reached "riverside," where the safe return of the young people caused almost as much satisfaction as the news which had just before arrived of the termination of the war. waihoura soon afterwards became the wife of rahana, who built a house after the english model, on some land which he owned in the neighbourhood near the river, and receiving instruction from their friends, both became true and earnest christians. they had the satisfaction also of hearing that hemipo, who had gladly received mr marlow and other missionaries, had, with all his people, become christians, and he showed by his changed life and peaceable conduct, that he was one in reality as well as in name. "riverside" continued to increase and prosper, and protected by the friendly natives who surrounded it, escaped the disasters from which many other places in subsequent years suffered. honest mr spears must not be forgotten. though still showing a readiness to help everybody, having learned the necessity of attending to his own affairs, he became one of the leading tradesmen in the place. both mr pemberton and farmer greening had, in course of time, the satisfaction of seeing their children married, and settled happily around them. the end. brighter britain or settler and maori in _northern new zealand._ by william delisle hay, author of "three hundred years hence," "the doom of the great city," etc. "queen of the seas, enlarge thyself! send thou thy swarms abroad! for in the years to come,-- where'er thy progeny, thy language and thy spirit shall be found,-- if-- --in that austral world long sought, the many-isled pacific,-- when islands shall have grown, and cities risen in cocoa-groves embower'd; where'er thy language lives. by whatsoever name the land be call'd, that land is english still." southey. in two volumes.--vol. i. london: richard bentley and son, new burlington street. . (_all rights reserved._) printed by william clowes and sons, limited, london and becceles. preface. this book is descriptive of things as they are in a part of new zealand, together with some reference to past history. it does not attempt to handle the colony as a whole, but refers to scenes within the northern half of the north island only. this part of the country, the natural home of the kauri pine, is what i here intend to specify under the title of northern new zealand. i am not an emigration-tout, a land-salesman, or a tourist. when i went to new zealand i went there as an emigrant. not until a few days before i left its shores had i any other idea but that the rest of my life was destined to be that of a colonist, and that new zealand was my fixed and permanent home. i have, therefore, written from the point of view of a settler. circumstances, which have nothing to do with this chronicle, caused me to lay down axe and spade, and eventually to become a spoiler of paper instead of a bushman. the materials of this work, gathered together in the previous condition of life, are now put in print in the other. i trust no one of my colonial friends will feel offended, should he think that he discovers a caricature of himself in these pages. i have used disguises to veil real identities, occasionally taking liberties as regards time, situation, and personality. i think that no one but themselves could recognize my characters. the substance of one or two chapters of this book has, in part, been already placed before the public in papers that i contributed to _the field_ last year, and is used again here by kind permission of the proprietor of that newspaper. also, i have made the kaipara the scene of several tales and sketches, which have appeared in sundry periodicals. if, in writing this book, i had any object beyond that of amusing the reader, it has been to give accurate information to young englishmen belonging to the middle-classes. from this section of home society a considerable number of emigrants go out who had much better stop at home. on the other hand, there are many who do not stir, and who would be much better off in a colony. perhaps, from the record i am now able to put before them, some of these young gentlemen will be more able to decide whether they are personally adapted to become colonists in northern new zealand or not. if one unsuitable emigrant is hereby deterred from leaving home, and if one capable colonist is added to the population of "brighter britain," my labour will not have been altogether useless. for the rest, i throw myself again upon the indulgence of critics, and on that of a public which has already abundantly favoured the efforts i have made to please and serve it. the author. london, _june th, ._ contents of vol. i. chapter page i. a "new-chum's" introduction ii. auckland iii. going up country iv. in the kaipara v. our shanty vi. our home-life vii. our pioneer farm. i. viii. our pioneer farm. ii. ix. our show-place x. our native neighbours xi. our settler friends xii. a pig-hunt brighter britain! chapter i. a "new-chum's" introduction. three months on board ship seems a long while to look forward to, yet it is but a short time to look back upon. emigrants, being for the most part drawn from among dry-land-living populations, are apt to be daunted by the idea of a long voyage. people would be more ready, perhaps, to contemplate becoming colonists, were it not for that dreaded crossing of the sea which must necessarily be their first step. their terrors may be natural enough, but they are more fanciful than real; and once overcome, the emigrant smiles at his former self. after the first week or two at sea, the most inveterate "land-lubber" begins to feel at home; in another week or two he has become quite nautical, and imagines himself to have been a sailor half his life; while, when the voyage is over and the time come to go ashore, there are few who leave their floating home without regret. as things are managed nowadays, there exists no reason for apprehension of the voyage on the part of would-be colonists. emigrants who are taken out "free"--that is, at the expense of the colonial government--as well as those who pay their own passage, are cared for in most liberal and considerate style. the rivalry between the various colonies of australia has had this effect among others--that the voyage is made as safe, smooth, and inviting to emigrants as is possible. they are berthed with an ever-increasing attention to their care and comfort, while they are absolutely pampered and fattened with abundance and variety of the best food. no one expects to commence life in a new country without undergoing some amount of hardship and difficulty, and when the emigrant gets on shore, and begins to experience the various little annoyances that a "new-chum" must necessarily undergo, he realizes most thoroughly the pleasures and comforts he has left behind him on board ship; and, very frequently, vainly endeavours to suppress the wish that he was back on board "the old hooker" making the voyage out over again. as to _danger_, nothing amuses an old salt more than the bare idea of the "perils of the sea." to him, a railway journey, short or long, appears an infinitely more terrible and risky undertaking than a voyage half round the globe; and he will enumerate the various dangers to which a landsman is exposed as vastly in excess of those which may happen to the mariner. life on board an emigrant-ship would, it might be thought, be somewhat dull and monotonous. as a matter of fact, it is scarcely ever found to be so. first of all, the little community of two or three hundred souls--men, women, and children--contrives to find sufficient fund for amusement in itself, in all the varieties of social intercourse. the progress of each day is marked by some fresh events that, insignificant as they may seem when regarded from a distance, do yet bear the strongest interest to all on board. a glimpse at some distant land, the signalling or speaking of other vessels, the appearance of strange birds and fish, the passage into different climates, the excitement of a storm, or the opportunity which a calm gives for general junketing; all such incidents are looked upon as a real gain by the voyagers, while there is always something stirring on board to divert and enliven them. all kinds of games are resorted to, many more, in fact, than landsmen have any idea of; a vast amount of reading is done; there are sure to be one or two on board who know how to spin a yarn with due effect; some are musical, and others can sing. concerts, lectures, theatricals, and dances are got up; while, as there is generally a due admixture of the sexes, not a little flirting and downright courting is carried on; and, lastly, if there is any quarrelling and bickering, the differences of those who engage in it afford much amusement to the rest. altogether, the modern emigrant's existence on board ship is a calm, easy, indolent, well-fed, and cheerful interlude of repose, amid the storms and worries of the great battle of life. if existence has been to him hitherto rather hard and thorny than otherwise, he finds the voyage out a pleasant interval of rest and refreshment; and, in any case, it recruits and prepares him to better commence the new life in the colony, with good spirits and high hopes, with invigorated strength, and renewed health in both mind and body. although it might be thought that social equality would necessarily prevail on board ship, such is by no means the case. of course there are great differences in the social tone of various ships, but, as a rule, "aft" seldom condescends to mix much with "forrard." yet there are generally many interchanges of courtesy, as between upper, middle, and lower classes; and different messes will sometimes banquet one another. the "cuddy" will, perhaps, get up amateur theatricals or charades, to which spectacle the whole vessel will be invited; while the "steerage" will return the compliment with a concert, more or less brilliant in performance. thus, a pleasant interchange of civilities goes on aboard most ships, and serves to help make the time pass away. differences of rank and station are supposed to be pretty well levelled down in the colonies. most of the time-worn prejudices of the old country, it is true, melt away before the revivifying breath of colonial life, yet sometimes "mrs. grundy's" awful features will show themselves, hiding the old foolish face under a new and somewhat strange aspect. it would be interesting to note how many of the most prominent and influential citizens of a colony came there originally in the humblest possible way; and how many of the dregs of colonial society--the occupiers of the lowest rung on the colonial ladder--reached their new home with all the pomp and circumstance of quarter-deck sublimity, and all the humbug and pretension of real or fancied aristocracy. is the result we see--for these contrasts are to be found plentifully in all the colonies at the antipodes--what it ought to be, or not? that is the question. in the colonies, and particularly in the younger and newer among them, a man must perforce be the sole architect of his own fortunes. industry and energy, enterprise and perseverance pave the pathway to success, and yield a real and lasting benefit to him who holds such endowments. a man must prove what he _is_, not what he _was_; his antecedents go for but little, and his "forbears" for nothing at all. in the antipodean colonies of great britain is realized, perhaps, the nearest approach to true freedom; and, in a wide social sense, the closest approximation to the ideal republic. however, we are still on board ship, and, after an easy and not too eventful voyage of some three months, are looking eagerly out for the first sight of the promised land. bound to auckland, new zealand, our vessel is one of the largest that has yet sailed from gravesend to that port; and she carries some three hundred emigrants and passengers on board. we have grown so accustomed to our good ship, and to our life on board of her, that we have got a strange feeling that this voyaging will never end; nor does the idea altogether arouse our discontent. we have had one or two births, and, alas! one poor child has been taken from our little company. there have, of course, been no weddings on board, but the prevailing opinion is that several have been arranged to take place as soon as we get on shore. and the time is very near now. at last, late one afternoon, as the ship is bowling steadily along with a ten-knot breeze on the port quarter, the deck is hailed from aloft, and the cheery, long-expected, and long-wished-for cry of "land ho!" is taken up by a hundred voices, and rings out across the sea. but there is nothing to be seen for all that; and though more than three hundred pairs of eyes keep anxious ward and watch, darkness falls before an almost imperceptible cloud upon the far horizon is pronounced oracularly by the mate to be cape maria van diemen, new zealand's north-western-most promontory. one may easily imagine that it is difficult to "turn in" on a night when such a fresh excitement fills every mind, but, i suppose, most of us do contrive to get to sleep eventually. with the first break of dawn in the morning there is a stir and commotion all through the ship. rules are forgotten, and etiquette broken through, as men, women, and children rush hastily on deck to take their first look at our future home. it is a beautiful summer morning. there is only a slight ripple on the surface of the water, and not a cloud in the blue sky overhead. the gentle breeze that just keeps us in motion blows off the land, bearing with it a subtle perfume of trees and flowers and herbage; how unspeakably grateful to our nostrils none can tell so well as we, who inhale it with ardour after so many weeks at sea. yonder, a mile or two to starboard, and seeming within a stone's throw, is the land we have come so far to seek. a wall of rock, the northern cliff of new zealand rises abrupt and imposing from the sea, broken here and there into groups of pillared, pinnacled islets, nobly irregular in outline, piled and scarred, indented and projected, uplifted and magnificent. on the summit of the cliffs, on ledges and terraces, down at the bottom of the rocks, filling every little bay, and sweeping down the gullies and ravines, is everywhere abundant the wild foliage of the evergreen forest. glorifying the rich and splendid scene, diversifying with numberless effects of light and shadow the whole panorama, shining upon the glowing sea, touching the topmost crags with sparkling grandeur, and bathing in beauty the thousand-tinted green of the forest, is the sun, which, on the eastern horizon, is rising clear and bright and steady. and so we gaze rapturously on the wide and beautiful picture--a picture the remembrance of which will remain with us long: our first sight of the new land of hope and promise. varied are the emotions that take possession of the individuals of our company; but i think there are some among us, more thoughtful or sentimental, perhaps, who, unconsciously to themselves, draw a kind of inspiration from the noble scene. to such there seems, in those majestic cliffs, sea-swept and forest-crowned, first seen as lighted by the rising sun, a nameless sermon preached, a wordless lesson taught, an everlasting poem sung. and our minds and spirits are calmed, refreshed, and invigorated; while in some dim way we grasp ideas that the silent scene irresistibly conveys to us. rising within us, as we gaze, comes with fresh new force the knowledge of the qualities that should be ours: the high-hoping courage, the unshrinking energy, the dauntless resolution, and the unfailing industry that must animate the colonist, and be the best endowments of an inceptive nation! later in the day we round the north cape, and go sailing on down the coast, with light and rather baffling winds that eventually bring us to port on the following evening. among our passengers are several old colonists, who are returning from a visit "home." in the colonies great britain is always spoken of as "home," even by colonial-born people. talk about the raptures at returning to "my own, my native land!" that is nothing to the transports of joy that now infect our colonists. they laugh, they sing, they dance about the decks, they chatter "sixteen to the dozen," and display every eccentricity of unbounded delight and satisfaction. probably a good deal of this is put on for the edification of us new chums, but there is no question that most of it is an expression of real feeling. all through the voyage these good people have been in great force, relating numberless yarns of their past experiences, more or less truthful in detail. but now their self-importance is overwhelming and superior to all considerations. every headland, bay, or island that we pass is expatiated upon, and its especial story told, in which, i note, the narrator generally seems to have been the most prominent figure himself. no one is allowed to remain below, even for meals, scarcely for sleeping; he or she must be up on deck to hear strange-sounding names applied to every place we sight. cape kara-kara is a name to us and nothing more. whangaroa heads, that guard the harbour of that name, with its settlements and saw-mills, is but little better, though some few, who have been industriously reading up, remember whangaroa as the scene of the ghastly massacre of the crew of the _boyd_, half a century ago. capes wiwiki and brett we have no previous acquaintance with, though we have heard of the bay of islands, over whose wide entrance they are the twin sentinels. and then in slow succession we sight the poor knights islands, bream head, the hen and chickens, the barrier islands--great and little, cape colville, rodney point, and the kawau, sir george grey's island home. and now, on the afternoon of the second day, we are running closer and closer to the shore; islands and islets are becoming more numerous, and the seas are getting narrower. right ahead a conical mountain top is perceived, tiri-tiri is close to, and it is high time the pilot came aboard. that mountain top is rangitoto, an extinct volcanic cone upon a small island that protects the entrance to auckland harbour. presently we shall see the similar elevations of mount eden and mount hobson, that look down on auckland from the mainland. of course, we are all on the _qui vive_ of expectation, looking out for the first signs of life. hitherto we have seen nothing to rob us of the notion that we are a veritable cargo of columbuses, coming to colonize some new and virgin land, until now utterly unknown to the rest of the world. the shores we have passed along have presented to us every possible variety of savage wilderness, rocks and bush and scrub and fern, but no appearance of settlement at all, not even any signs of aboriginal life have we descried. there is a growing idea getting the better of our common sense--an impression that there has been some sort of mistake somewhere or other. for, how can it be possible that we are just outside the harbour of a considerable city, with the shores of mainland and island as far as we can see, just as wild as nature made them, wilder than anything most of us have ever seen before. the utmost recesses of scotland, or ireland, or wales would look quite tame and domesticated contrasted with these rugged solitudes. not a house nor a hut anywhere, not a trace of the presence of man, not even--so it chanced--another sail upon the sea! it is close upon sunset, the foresail is backed, the pilot's signal is flying, and the foghorn sounding, and soon we shall see if there is any life or not in this weird new land. presently, comes a shout of "ship ahoy! ahoy!" apparently from the sea, and a little boat emerges from the shadow of the shore and makes its way alongside. of course every one rushes to the side to see the pilot come aboard. it being more than three months since we saw a strange face, we are naturally consumed with a burning curiosity. it is rather disappointing though, to have come half round the world only to be met by men like these. the pilot might be own brother to his fellow-craftsman who took us down the channel, and his crew are just the same kind of brawny, bearded, amphibious-looking men that are to be seen any day in an english seaport. we had nourished an insane kind of hope that we should have been boarded by a canoe full of maoris, in all the savage splendour of tattooing and paint and feathers; but here, instead of all that romantic fancy, are three or four ordinary "long-shore" boatmen, with a pilot who steps on board in the most matter-of-fact manner possible. well, we must make the best we can out of the circumstances; so, when the pilot has come out of the captain's cabin, where he has shown his certificate and discussed his "nobbler," when he has formally taken charge of the ship, and we are once more moving through the water, we begin to pester him with the question, "what's the news?" now, as we have been between three and four months at sea, isolated from the rest of the world, we are naturally all agog to hear what has happened in our absence. new zealand's news of the old world is at least a month old, but then that is considerably in advance of our dates. the pilot has, therefore, enough to do in answering all the questions that are levelled at him, and as he is probably pretty well accustomed to similar experiences, he is, i fear, in the habit of allowing his fancy to supply any gaps in his actual knowledge of the progress of events; hence we glean many scraps of information that on further inquiry turn out to be more or less imaginative. and now that we are entering the harbour of auckland, it is unfortunately getting too dark to see much. there is not a long gloaming in northern new zealand--once the sun has dropped below the horizon darkness succeeds very rapidly; so, though we get an indistinct glimpse at some houses on the shore as we sail along, it is quite dark as we round the north shore and come into auckland harbour. there goes the anchor at last, with a plunge and a rattle! now the good ship is swinging in the current of the waitemata, and the voyage, that at its commencement seemed so long and that now appears to have been so short, is fairly terminated. before us, extending to right and left, and up and down, are thousands of lights glittering and twinkling over the shadowy outlines of the city; while into our ears is borne the welcome hum and stir of city life. there is no going ashore until next morning--until the health officer and the customs shall have boarded and inspected us. so that night is devoted to the bustle and confusion of packing up; and various spoony couples moon about the decks, renewing promises and vows in expectation of their parting on the morrow. when morning comes we make our bow to auckland. there it lies, this antipodean city, looking so white and clean and fair in the morning sunshine, stretching away to right and left, rising in streets and terraces from the shore, cresting the heights with steeples and villa-roofs, and filling up the valleys below. in the far background is the heavy brow of mount eden, whose extinct crater we shall explore by-and-by, and whence we shall obtain a splendid view of the entire city, its suburbs, and the surrounding country. from our point of view out in the harbour the city presents a scattered and uneven appearance, that adds to its generally picturesque aspect. as a central feature are the long lines of wharves and quays with their clustering shipping; just beyond these is evidently the densest part of the city. huge and imposing stone buildings stand thickly here, showing that it is the centre of the business part of auckland. to right and left the ground rises abruptly and steeply, and the streets become irregular in outline. nor is the shore a straight and continuous line; these heights on either hand are promontories jutting out into the stream, and hiding deep bays behind them, round which, straggling and irregular, sweeps the city. the further our eyes travel from the centre of the picture, the more do we lose sight of any trace of uniformity in building. quite close to the busy parts, so it seems to us, houses stand in their own wide gardens; the streets and roads are lost amid the embowering foliage of trees and shrubs. the house-structures are built on every conceivable plan, up and down the wooded shores; every builder has evidently been his own architect to a great extent, and there is no lack of elbow-room hereaway. what surprise us most are the evidences of taste and cultivation and general prosperity everywhere in view. our previous glimpses at the shore of our new country had not prepared us for anything like this. it is decidedly encouraging to new-comers, who are disturbed somewhat by the prospect of doing battle with the wilderness, to find a sort of anglo-saxon naples here in the southern sea. we had an idea that our arrival would have been quite an event in this little place. nothing of the sort; aucklanders are too well used to the arrival of emigrant ships. one or two enter the harbour every month, besides other craft; and then the pacific mail steamers, large and splendidly equipped vessels, call here twice a month on their way to and fro between sydney and san francisco. there are one or two vessels like ours lying out in the stream at the present time, others are lying alongside the principal wharf, or its cross-tees, amid a forest of spars belonging to small coasting craft. plenty of shore boats have come off to us on one errand or another; but it is evident that our arrival has not created that impression upon the city which we had had a notion that it would have done. the morning papers will notice our advent, with a brief account of the voyage, and will give exceedingly inaccurate lists of our passengers. only those people who expect friends or cargo by us will take any special interest in us; the evening promenaders on the wharf will glance at our ship with a brief passing interest; and the current of auckland life will flow on unchanged, regardless of the fact that some three hundred more souls have been absorbed into its population. breakfast this morning is partaken of in the midst of a hurry-skurry of excitement, but, for all that, it is an imposing meal, and comprises all sorts of luxuries to which we have long been strangers. beefsteaks, milk, eggs, fruit, and vegetables, fresh fish just caught over the side, and other fondly-loved delicacies are on the bill of fare. by-and-by, all formalities having been gone through, comes the parting with shipmates and the confusion of landing. it is not without a strong feeling of astonishment that we step out of the boat that has brought us off, and enter the city. we were totally unprepared for the scene before us. from the accounts we had read and received, we had pictured auckland to our minds as little better than a collection of log-huts, with here and there, perhaps, a slightly more comfortable frame-house. and here is the reality. a city that would put to shame many an old english town. a main street--queen street--that might even compare favourably with many a leading london thoroughfare in all its details. fine handsome edifices of stone, with elaborate architecture and finish; large plate-glass shop-windows, filled with a display of wares; gas-lamps, pillar letter-boxes, pavements, awnings, carts, carriages, and cabs; all the necessities, luxuries, and appurtenances of city life, civilized and complete. truly, all this is a wonderful surprise to us. our preconceived ideas, gathered from various books dating only a few years back, had led our fancies completely astray. learning from these sources that, not much more than thirty years ago--in ,--the first ship-load of british emigrants landed in new zealand; that since then the colony had struggled for bare life against many and great difficulties; that it had had to wage several desperate wars with the aborigines; had had its financial and legislative troubles; and was still so very very young, we were naturally prepared to find auckland a rude, rough, and inchoate settlement, pitched down in the midst of a wilderness as savage and uncouth as those shores we passed along yesterday. we know that a very few years ago, auckland really was but what we had fancied it still would be, and so we comprehend now how little the people at home actually realize of the conditions of life at their antipodes. moreover, as we pass along the streets of this british city, set down here on the shaggy shores of britain's under-world, in the very heart of recent maori-dom, so remote and far removed from the tracks of ancient civilization, we look around us and are filled with wonder and a feeling akin to awe. this is what colonization means; this is the work of colonists; this is the evidence of energy that may well seem titanic, of industry that appears herculean; this is progress! the thought thrills us through and through. we, too, have made our entry into the new world; we, too, have crossed the threshold of colonial life; and thus to-day, at the outset of our new life, our minds have opened to receive the first true lesson of the colonist. chapter ii. auckland. passing up queen street, after landing on the wharf, a party of us notice--or fancy we notice--a rather singular feature in the aucklanders we meet. the men are grave and serious in deportment, and nearly all are profusely bearded; but one of us draws attention to the fact that all have strangely aquiline noses. hebrews they are not--we know, they are of the same nationality as ourselves--so we seek explanation from a whimsical fellow-voyager, himself an old aucklander. "ah!" says he, "that's a peculiarity of the climate. you'll have long noses, too, after a year or so. there's an auckland proverb, that a new-chum never does any good until his nose has grown. you've got to learn the truth of that pretty soon." following up these remarks, he proceeded to add-- "it's like the proverbial cutting of the wisdom-teeth. after inhaling this magnificent air of ours for a year or two, your nose will grow bigger to receive it; and about the same time you will have spent the money you brought with you, gone in for hard work, learnt common-sense, and become 'colonized.'" the reader will understand that a new-chum is, throughout the colonies, regarded as food for mirth. he is treated with good-humoured contempt and kindly patronage. he is looked upon as a legitimate butt, and a sort of grown-up and incapable infant. his doings are watched with interest, to see what new eccentricities he will develop; and shouts of laughter are raised at every fresh tale of some new-chum's inexperienced attempts and failures. half the stories that circulate in conversation have a new-chum as the comic man of the piece; and if any unheard of undertaking is noised about, "oh, he's a new-chum!" is considered sufficient explanation. however, the new-chum is not supposed to be altogether a fool, since he will sooner or later develop into the full-blown colonist, and since sometimes it happens that one of his order will show colonists "a thing or two." he is one of the recognized characters of colonial society, and as he affords much material that seems infinitely ludicrous to the older colonist, so his faults and failings meet with lenient condonation. even the law seems to feel that the new-chum is scarcely a responsible being. at the time i write of, drunkenness was severely legislated against in new zealand. a man who was merely drunk, without being actually incapable or riotous, was liable, if any constable saw fit, to be haled before the magistrate and fined one pound; and, on a subsequent conviction, might be sent to the stockade (prison), without the option of a fine at all. the law stood something like that, and was impartially administered by the auckland dogberry. however, if an individual were pulled up, charged with even the most excessive tipsiness, including riot, assault, incapability, or what not, and could show that he was a new-chum, the sacred folly attributed to that state of being was held sufficient to bear him blameless, and he was always discharged on his promise not to do it again. i do not know whether this was intended as a sort of indulgence to newly-arrived voyagers, or whether, in the eye of the law, a new-chum was held to be an irresponsible being, who had not yet arrived at the moral manhood of a new zealander. certain it is, it was fact, and was largely taken advantage of, too. in order to bear out one of the received theories regarding new-chums, namely, their utter want of frugality, we, some half-a-dozen young "gentlemen," who have come out in the cabin, go to put up at one of the leading hotels of the city. we have looked in at some of the minor hotels and houses of accommodation, but are daunted by the rough, rude, navvy-like men, who appear to chiefly frequent them; and we do not care to go to any of the boarding-houses, where parsons, missionaries, and people of that class mostly abound, and tincture the very air with a savour of godliness and respectability that is, alas! repugnant to our scapegrace youth. we are young fellows with slender purses but boundless hopes, an immense belief in ourselves and our golden prospects; but with the vaguest possible idea of what manual labour, roughing it, and colonial work really mean. therefore, we have decided that there is no reason to plunge at once into the middle of things, that we will look about a bit, let ourselves down gently, and taste a little comfort before proceeding further. our hotel is a solid, comfortable-looking edifice of stone, standing on a wide street that traverses a high ridge, and commanding a fine view of the harbour. it is well furnished throughout in english fashion, resembling any first-class family and commercial hotel of the old country. there is a long bar or saloon occupying the ground floor, with a parlour behind it; there are also a spacious dining-room and business-room. upstairs there is a billiard-room, smoking-room, ladies' drawing-room, and bedrooms capable of accommodating thirty or forty guests. behind the house is a large courtyard, round which are ranged the bath-rooms, kitchens, offices, and stables; while further back is the garden, principally used for strictly utilitarian purposes. according to colonial custom there is little or no privacy, no private sitting-rooms, and if a visitor have a bedroom to himself, it is not quite such a sanctum as it would be in britain. people stopping in the house are free to permeate it from kitchen to attic, if so minded. there are three common meals--breakfast, luncheon-dinner, and dinner-supper--and any one who is not present at them, or who is hungry between times, will have to go without in the interval, and wait till the next regular meal-time comes round, unless he dare to invade the kitchen and curry favour with the cook, or goes down to some restaurant in the city. generally speaking, the table is furnished in a style most creditable as to both quantity and quality of the viands. there may not be such a show of plate and glass and ornament as there would be at a london hotel of similar status, but there is a plenteous profusion of varied eatables, fairly cooked and served up, to which profusion the home establishment is an utter stranger. fish, fowl, butcher's meat, vegetables, breads and cakes, eggs, cream, and fruit, appear in such abundance that, when every one is nearly gorged, we wonder what can possibly be done with the overplus, especially since we are told that this is a city without paupers, as yet. fresh from the crystallized decorum of english manners, we are necessarily struck by the freedom of intercourse that prevails. class prejudices have certainly been imported here from europe, and exist to a small extent in auckland society, but there is, withal, a nearer approach to true liberty, equality, and fraternity, at any rate in the manners and customs of colonists. the hotel servants show no symptoms of servility, though in civility they are not lacking. every one is perfectly independent, and considers himself or herself on an equal footing with every one else, no matter what differences may exist in their present position--new-chums always excepted--while they ever bear in mind that such differences are only temporary, and may disappear any day in the chances and changes of life in a new country. our landlord and his wife preside at the meals, and, whoever may or might be present, comport themselves as a host and hostess entertaining a friendly party. in common with every one else, they take a lively interest in our intentions and prospects, and we are bewildered with conflicting advice and suggestions, some real and some jocular. they make us feel at home in the house very speedily, and cause us to forget that we are paying lodgers. not but what the bill will come up with due regularity, and will have to be met as promptly. and the mention of it reminds me to state that the tariff is eight shillings per day, inclusive of everything but liquors. this would be moderate enough in all conscience, according to english notions, but it is thought to be a luxurious price here. the minor hotels and boarding-houses in auckland charge from a pound to thirty-five shillings per week. at present there is nothing higher than the price we pay at our hotel. having hinted at the social relations that obtain here, there will seem to be nothing outrageous in the following slight incident that illustrates them. one morning, soon after our arrival, i get down to breakfast rather late, after most of the guests have dispersed. something seems to have creased our landlady's temper, for she greets me with-- "look here, young man! i can't have people walking in to breakfast at all hours of the day. if you don't come down at the proper time, you'll have to go without in future--mind that!" but at this juncture arrives the waiter, who is kind enough to favour me with his friendship, bringing with him a dish he has been keeping hot, and, as he slaps it down in front of me, he observes in a tone of mild remonstrance-- "leave the man alone. i'll look after him. now just you walk into that, my boy, and see if it won't suit your complaint!" this is quite colonial style. but fancy an old-country landlady venturing to remonstrate with her boarder in such terms; and imagine the pitiable horror of a precise and formal englishman, who might find himself so addressed by a waiter, and in the presence of the latter's mistress, too! i am particular in styling auckland a "city," and not a "town," for were i to use the latter term i should expect to earn the undying hostility of all true aucklanders. it is a point they are excessively touchy upon, and as the city and its suburbs contains a population of more than twenty thousand--increasing annually at an almost alarming rate--it were as well for me to be particular. we take a stroll or two about the city in company with a colonial friend, who obligingly acts as our cicerone. the wharf is naturally the first point of interest to new-comers. it stretches continuously out into the river from the lower end of queen street, and is over a quarter of a mile in length. it is built of wood, and has several side-piers or "tees," whereat ships discharge and take in cargo. the scene is always a busy one; and in the evening the wharf is a favourite promenade with citizens. out in the river, lying at anchor, is the good ship that brought us here, and not far from her are a couple of others, one of which will shortly sail for england. puffing its way between these vessels is a little white cock-boat of a steamer, that seems tolerably well crowded with men, whose white sun-helmets and yellow silk coats give quite an indian air to the scene. these persons are probably business men coming over in the ferry-boat from north shore, where we can see some of their villas from the wharf. lying alongside the wharf are one or two vessels of considerable tonnage, loading or discharging cargo, while at their respective tees, whereon are offices and goods-sheds, are several fine steamers of moderate size. these ply in various directions, taking passengers chiefly, but also goods. some go and come between auckland and grahamstown, or coromandel, in the hauraki gulf; others go to tauranga, the bay of plenty, napier, wellington, and the south island; one or two go northward to mahurangi, whangarei, the bay of islands, whangaroa, and mongonui. the splendid and sumptuously fitted-up pacific liners that call here once a month, on their way between "frisco," hawaii, fiji, and sydney, are none of them in the harbour at present; but there, at the extreme end of the wharf, lies _the hero_, the sydney packet, and a magnificent steam-ship is she. all the schooners, cutters, and craft of small tonnage that fill up the scene, and crowd alongside the wharf and its tees, are coasting or island traders. there is one from the fijis with cotton, coffee, and fresh tropical fruits; there is another from the friendlies with copra and cocoa-nut fibre, which she will shortly transfer to some ship loading for england; and there is the _magellan cloud_, fresh from a successful whaling cruise in antarctic seas. there is a vessel from kororareka with coal and manganese, or kauri-gum; there are others from mahurangi with lime, from whangarei with fat cattle, from tauranga with potatoes, from poverty bay with wool, from the wairoa with butter and cheese, from port lyttelton with flour, or raw-hides for the panmure tannery, from dunedin with grain or colonial ale, and so on and so on. just off the wharf, and facing the river at either corner of queen street, are two large and handsome hotels, while to right and left on the river frontage are sundry important commercial edifices. passing to the left as we leave the wharf, we come to several extensive timber-yards, and to a long jetty, used exclusively as a timber-wharf. the immense piles of sawn timber lying here give to us new-chums some notion of the vast timber-trade of northern new zealand, especially since we learn that much which goes to the south island and elsewhere is shipped direct from whangaroa, hokianga, the kaipara, and other ports in the north. the road along the river front, here, is shortly brought up abruptly at the base of a lofty bluff, whereon is a church and other buildings, near the site of old fort britomart. retracing our steps, we enter queen street, the main street of the city. all the lower portion of it abutting on to the wharf was, we are told, reclaimed from swamp and mud only a very few years ago. the street is a fine one, leading straight away from the river, curving imperceptibly to the right, and gradually ascending for about a mile, until it branches off into other streets and roads. down at the lower end of the street most of the buildings are of brick and stone; and some of them are of tolerably fine architecture. there are banks and warehouses and merchants' stores of all kinds, interspersed with hotels and public buildings. higher up queen street, and in the cross-streets, stone and brick edifices are less numerous, and wooden houses more plentiful. the broad, well-paved thoroughfare is crowded at certain times of the day with carriages, cabs, buggies, omnibuses, equestrians, express-carts, waggons, drays, and every species of vehicle. the side-walks are thronged with passengers, who pass up and down under the awnings that stretch from the houses across the wide pavement. many of the shop-windows would do no discredit to oxford street or the strand, either as respects their size or the goods displayed in them. some distance up queen street, and turning a little out of it, is the market house, where a very fine show of fruit, vegetables, and other eatables is frequently to be seen; and then there is the united service hotel, at the corner of wellesley street, which is a structure that aucklanders point to with pride, as evidence of their progress in street architecture. at night, when the gas is lit in the streets, the shops, and the saloons, and one mingles with the crowd that throngs them, or pours into the theatre, the choral hall, the mechanics' institute, the oddfellows' hall, or other places of amusement, instruction, or dissipation, it is almost possible sometimes to imagine oneself back in the old country, in the streets of some english town. new-chums are able to notice some of the peculiarities of auckland street-life, wherein it most differs from an old-country town. these arise principally from that absence of conventionality, which, certainly in many external things, is the prerogative of colonists. there is a mingling of people who seem on terms of perfect equality, and who yet present the most extraordinary difference in appearance. the gentleman and the roughest of roughs may happen to get together on the same piece of work, and when their temporary chum-ship ends the one cannot entirely cut the other, such being a course quite inadmissible with colonial views of life. only one man _may_ be scouted by any one, and that is the loafer. of course there are good people here who would fain introduce all the class barriers that exist in the old country; but they cannot do more than form little cliques and coteries, which are constantly giving way and being broken down under the amalgamating process of colonization. where these offer most resistance to the levelling influence is where they are cemented by religious denominational spite, which is, unhappily, very prevalent in auckland. this general fusion of all sorts of people together produces a very amiable and friendly state of things. etiquette is resolved into simple courtesy, not very refined, perhaps, but which is sufficient "between man and man," as micawber would say. prejudice must not be entertained against any man on account of his birth, connections, education, poverty, or manner of work; he is "a man for a' that," and entitled to the same consideration as the more fortunate individual who possesses what he lacks. only if he be a loafer, or dishonest, or otherwise positively objectionable, will any man find himself under the ban of colonial society. and this society is not a mere set of wealthy exclusives banded together against the rest of the world; it comprehends everybody. one sees in the streets abundant evidence of these conditions of social relationship. in the first place, costume goes for little or nothing. men--i am coming to your sex presently, ladies!--men wear just what they please at all times and in all places, and without remark from others. one sees men apparelled in all sorts of ways; and it would be impossible to guess at a man's condition from his coat, hereaway. in queen street once, i saw a well-dressed and thriving store-keeper touch his hat to a ragged, disreputable-looking individual, who was carrying a hod full of bricks, where some building operations were going on. it was a sudden impulse of old habit, i suppose, which had wrung that very uncolonial salute from the sometime valet to his former master, in whose service he had originally come out. i knew of one case where master and servant actually came to change places, and i may add, to their mutual advantage eventually. a man would not be likely to receive an invitation to the governor's ball unless he had some pretensions to gentility, or was locally important. yet, i suppose that the recipient of such an invite might turn up at government house in a grey jumper and moleskins, if he were so minded, and would pass unquestioned. in such a case it would only be surmised that mr. so-and-so was "not doing very well at present." women, as a rule, dress "to death;" and the more gorgeous the toilette the more likely is it that the wearer is unmarried, and a worker of some sort. the merest irish slut can earn her ten shillings a week as a domestic, besides being found in everything; and better-class girls get proportionately more; so it is not surprising that they can clothe themselves in fine raiment. but there is no rule to go by--the expensively dressed woman may be either mistress or maid, and the plain cotton gown may clothe either as well. only one thing is certain, the auckland woman of any class will dress as well as she knows how, on her own earnings or her husband's. we new-chums observe one or two peculiarities of this kind as we stroll about the city, and they are explained to us by our colonial friend. some extremely dowdy females we see riding in a barouche are the wife and daughters of a high official, who is stingy to his woman-kind, so they say. two youths we pass are in striking contrast, as they walk along arm-in-arm. one is got up according to the fullest auckland idea of bond street foppery, while the other prefers to go about in very "creeshy flannen;" yet the two sit at the same desk in one of the banks, and earn the same salary; and neither they themselves, nor anyone else, seems to notice any peculiarity in the costume of either. then comes along a more remarkable pair still: a "lady" and a "man" apparently, or so they might be described at home. she is dressed in the latest fashion and with killing effect--muslin, silk, embroidery, chains, bracelets, laces, ribbons, the newest thing in bonnets, and the last in parasols--and has quite the air of a fine lady. he is a burly rough, bearded to the eyes, the shapeless remnant of a coarse wide-awake covering a head of hair that has seemingly been long unknown to the barber; his blue flannel shirt, ragged jacket, breeches, and long riding-boots, are all crusted deep with mud, while a stock-whip is coiled round his shoulders. they walk amicably along together, conversing, though there is something of an air of constraint between them. our colonial friend nods to the man as they pass; and we ask him who the strangely assorted couple may be. "oh! he's a well-to-do stock-farmer," is the reply, "and has just come in with a herd of fat beasts." "and the lady?" we ask. "the lady! ha! that's a new dairy-maid and house-servant my friend's just engaged. guess she'll have to leave her fine feathers in auckland! precious little good they'd be to her at his place in the bush!" and now for a sample of the native race, but very sparingly represented in the city at any time. a dignified and portly gentleman is rolling along, with an air as though the place belonged to him. he is a maori, as we plainly see; moreover, he is a chief, and is at present a member of the house of representatives. there is no trace of the savage about him, as he struts along in his patent leather boots, shining broadcloth, snowy shirt-front, massive watch-guard, and glossy silk hat, unless it be in the richly decorative tattoo that adorns his brown face, and over which a gold double-eyeglass has a somewhat incongruous effect there is another maori on the curbstone, looking a horrible tatterdemalion as he stands there in the scantiest and wretchedest of european rags, offering peaches and water-melons for sale. him and his proffered wares the chief waves off with aristocratic hauteur, until he suddenly recollects that his humble countryman has a vote at the elections; then he stops, enters into a brief conversation, examines the kitful of fruit through his glasses with supercilious disdain, but eventually purchases a chunk of melon, and goes on his way munching it. in the shops the same sense of equality is noticeable. shopkeepers and their assistants are not the cringing, obsequious slaves that we know so well in england. there is none of that bowing and smirking, superfluous "sir"-ing and "ma'am"-ing, and elaborate deference to customers that prevails at home. here we are all freemen and equals; and the auckland shopman meets his customer with a shake of the hand, and a pleasant hail-fellow-well-met style of manner. not but what all the tricks of trade are fully understood at the antipodes, and the aucklander can chaffer and haggle, and drive as hard a bargain as his fellow across the seas; only his way of doing it is different, that is all. auckland possesses a class whose members are akin to the street-arabs of london and elsewhere, but differ from them in many respects. the auckland "larrikin" is a growing nuisance, but he is neither so numerous nor so objectionable as yet as his fellow in melbourne and sydney. unlike the street-arab, he is either a school-boy, or earns his living somehow, or he is a truant from work of either kind. he probably belongs to some working family, whom he favours with his company only at such times as pleases himself, for he is utterly unmanageable by his parents. he has exuberant spirits and an inordinate love of mischief, which shows itself in manifold ways. he has a sort of organization of his own, and seems to revel in uncurbed liberty of action. occasionally some wrathful citizen executes summary justice upon him, in spite of the fear that such an act may bring down the vengeance of the whole boyish gang; and sometimes the youth finds himself in the police-court, charged with "larrikinism," an offence that is sure to be severely punished. the "larrikin" easily gets a job, and works by fits and starts when it suits him, or when he wants money. he lives in the open air, sleeping anywhere, and getting his food no one knows how. he is not altogether bad--not so frequently thieving and breaking the law, as intent on simple mischief and practical jokes of the coarsest and roughest sort--still, he is a pest that aucklanders inveigh heartily against, and would gladly see extirpated by the strong arm of the law. we turn out of queen street into shortland crescent. at the corner is a large and handsome block of buildings constructed of brick, and having an imposing frontage on the crescent. this contains the general post-office and the custom house. not far distant, on the opposite side of queen street, is the new zealand insurance company's establishment, more generally known as "the exchange." it is the finest building in the city, excepting the supreme court, perhaps, and has a tower, and a clock which is the big ben of auckland. at the corner of shortland crescent and queen street, and just under the front of the post-office, is a kind of rendezvous that serves as a _petite bourse_, or cornhill, to those who go "on 'change" in auckland. here congregate little knots of eager-eyed men--stock-jobbers most of them--waiting for news from the thames gold field, perhaps, or for telegrams from elsewhere. ever and anon some report spreads among them, there is an excited flutter, mysterious consultations and references to note books, and scrip of the "union beach," the "caledonian," or the "golden crown," changes hands, and goes "up" or "down," as the case may be, while fortunes--in a small way--are made or marred. toiling on up the steep ascent of the crescent, we come out on a broad road that runs along the summit of the range, and close to an ugly church, st. matthew's, that crowns the bluff looking over the harbour. from various points here there are good views of the city obtainable; and our guide is able to expatiate on most of its beauties and characteristics. down below us is the splendid and extensive harbour, land-locked, and capable of containing the whole british navy. right opposite is the north head, or north shore, as it is usually termed, on whose twin volcanic peaks is an armstrong battery, to defend the harbour entrance in case of need. there is also the signal station on mount victoria, whence incoming vessels may be sighted outside of tiri-tiri and the barrier islands. there are the villages of stokes' point, west devonport, and east devonport beyond, facing the open pacific, and renowned for its salubrious sea-breezes. just beneath us is the railway station, whence the line runs across the isthmus, connecting auckland with onehunga on the manukau harbour, where the west coast traffic is carried on, and thus placing auckland, like corinth, upon two seas. the railway also extends southwards to the waikato.[ ] onehunga is only some half-dozen miles from the outskirts of the city, and the road to it lies between fields and meadows, bordered with hedgerows, by villa and cottage and homestead, quite in english rural style. the road also leads by ellerslie race-course, and the ellerslie gardens, the auckland rosherville. the coastal traffic that is carried on in the manukau is nearly equal in extent to the similar trade done in the waitemata, hence the commercial importance of auckland can hardly be rivalled by that of any other city of new zealand. dunedin, in the far south, holds a similar status to auckland in the north, but the cities are too far distant (some eight hundred nautical miles) to become rivals to the detriment of each other. beyond the railway, we look across the inland sweep of mechanic's bay to the rising ground on its further side, crowned by the popular and picturesque suburb of parnell. on the river side the streets descend to the shore; the houses, most of them pretty wooden villas, standing each in its terraced garden grounds, embowered in rich foliage. on the land side a gully divides parnell from the domain. this serves as a public park and recreation ground for citizens of auckland. it is a tract of original forest or bush, through whose bosky glades winding walks have been cut, leading up and down range and gully, furnished with seats and arbours and artificial accessories. conjoined to the domain are the gardens of the acclimatization society, which are beautiful and interesting on account of their botanical and zoological contents. rising at some distance behind the domain, we catch a glimpse of mount hobson, upon whose sides nestles the suburb of the same name. to the right of it lies the great south road, whereon is the village of newmarket, and beyond it again the scattered suburb of epsom, and that gem of lovely hamlets, remuera. our eyes, slowly travelling round to take in all these points, are now turned directly away from the harbour. before us stretches a long road named symonds street, leading past the supreme court--a brick and stone building of considerable architectural pretension--past the wide cemetery, and allowing beyond a sight of the hospital in the valley below, on till the large suburb of newton--hardly disconnected at all from the city proper--is reached. in this direction is situated government house, a large mansion of wood, standing in park-like grounds, where the english oak, the american maple, the australian blue-gum, the semi-tropical palm, and the new zealand kauri mingle their foliage together. some distance further, and to the left of the road, rises mount eden. on one side of it is the gaol, a group of buildings surrounded by a wall and palisades, and situated in a scoria quarry. among the spurs and declivities of the mount are many villas of the wealthier citizens, standing in well laid-out grounds, and making a very pleasing picture. we now look right across the densest part of the city, from our first standpoint near st. matthew's church. below is queen street, with the roofs of the various buildings already noticed in it. beyond it there is a corresponding high ground to that on which we are, and behind that again is freeman's bay. on the crest of the eminence is st. paul's "cathedral"--so styled; the principal anglican church of the city. in the distance the breezy suburb of ponsonby is pointed out to us, occupying high ground, from which is visible the winding valley of the waitemata, stretching away up into the hills. here and there can be seen the spires or belfries of numerous churches and chapels, for auckland is an eminently religious city, and has temples and tabernacles for almost every christian creed. our companion dilates upon the institutions of the city, which are highly creditable to so young a community, and are in advance of those of many european towns of equal population, that can trace back their history considerably further than auckland's thirty-and-odd years. in matters ecclesiastical and educational the young city is indeed well endowed. there are two bishops, roman and anglican, a presbytery, and governing bodies of other denominations. there is a college and grammar school of the new zealand university, common schools in the city, private schools of all sorts and sects, a training school and ship at kohimarama, an establishment for young clergymen, and convent schools. there are asylums, orphanages, and refuges. there are institutes and halls belonging to all kinds of societies: young men's christian association, mechanics, good templars, freemasons, orangemen, oddfellows, foresters, etc. there is the auckland institute and museum, the acclimatization society, agricultural society, benevolent societies, etc. there are cricketing, rowing, and yachting clubs. there is a mayor and city council, with harbour board, highway board, domain board, and improvement commissions. there is the supreme court, the district court, the resident magistrate's court, and the police court. there are public and circulating libraries, two daily morning newspapers, an evening newspaper, two weekly newspapers, two weekly journals of fiction, and two monthly religious periodicals. the city is lighted by gas supplied by a private company; and the water-supply is under municipal control. it returns three members to the house of representatives, while parnell and newton each return one. so much and more does our cicerone favour us with, until he has, as he thinks, convinced us that auckland is really the finest place of residence in the world. we now pass down into the city again, taking a new route past the northern club, a lofty and unsightly building, whose members are notoriously hospitable, and much given to whist and euchre. downhill a short distance, and we come to the albert barracks, where newly-arrived immigrants are housed, and where most of our sometime shipmates now are. they are comfortably quartered here for the present, but no incitement is held out to them to remain long, and every inducement is given them to get an engagement and quit as soon as may be. it seldom happens that there is any difficulty in this; usually, indeed, there is a rush to engage the new-comers, so much are servants and labourers, mechanics and artizans in request. there have been times when would-be employers would go off in shore-boats to the immigrant ship in the harbour, and though not allowed on board, would make efforts to hire domestics and labourers at the side of the vessel. again, when the government immigrants were landed, and were marched up from the wharf to the barracks, a mob of employers would escort the procession, endeavouring to hire helps, and with such success that sometimes the barracks were hardly needed at all. but such scenes are becoming rarer now, though there must continue, for many years to come, to be a run upon certain classes of immigrants, notably single girls for house-servants.[ ] turning into the barrack-yard, round which are the various buildings where the immigrants are temporarily housed, we find an animated scene before us. here are assembled most of our immigrant shipmates, some few of whom have already got engagements and gone off. a considerable party of settlers and agents are now busily at work trying to hire the people they severally want; while the poor bewildered immigrants find themselves treated as though they were goods in an auction-room, and scarcely know whether they are standing on their heads or their heels. it so happens that there is just now a great demand for agricultural and domestics, so that settlers are actually bidding against each other for the individuals they want to engage. our ship-load was no special body of people, but a motley collection of men, women, and children from all parts of the old country. among them are natives of kent and of cornwall, of yorkshire and of wales, of inverness and of galway. here are a couple of brothers whom we made special friends with on the voyage, young hardy scots; let us see how they get on. we find them at a premium, surrounded by a little crowd of farmers from the waikato, who each and all seem intent on hiring them. the lads do not wish to part if they can help it; and so, as to get one means to get both, the farmers are all the hotter in their pursuit of them. for these young men are just the right sort that are most wanted, having the thews and sinews and power of endurance so necessary for a rough life; having experience of sheep and cattle and agricultural work from their earliest infancy; having, in fact, all the qualities most essential and useful to the pioneer farmer. they come of the right race, too, as all the world knows--colonists especially--for honesty, sobriety, and patient industry. what a change for them--from the inclement sky, the hostile winter, the rugged battle for life they have left behind them with their native grampians, to this bright clime of everlasting summer, of strange fertility, to these sunshiny isles of beauty and plenty! well, well, it is not a land of indolence either; the work demanded here is stern and hard and rough; but what a reward may be reaped in the end from earnest and unshrinking toil! no wonder if, in a year or two's time, our friends yonder will write to the dear ones they left at home, in the perthshire glen, such an account as shall bear witness that they, at least, have found on earth the peasant's paradise! there is hot and excited bargaining going on in the group of which the brothers form the centre. they are a little dazed, and do not venture to speak; but they are canny for all that, and bide their time. amid the babel of voices that surrounds us on all sides, we catch a few utterances as follows:-- "five shillings a day, and your tucker!" "five and threepence, lads!" "he'll give you nothing but salt pork; try me at the same wage!" "and you'll have to live on potatoes and pumpkins with him!" "five and six, and as much mutton as you want!" "too much, perhaps, and braxy at that!" "come, a cottage to yourselves, rations, and five and six a day!" "cottage! a tumble-down wharè is what he means!" "fresh meat every day with me, boys--beef, mutton, and pork!" "yes; and he'll want you to work twelve hours!" "better engage with me at five and nine; i'll lodge you well, and feed you first chop!" and so on and so on, until at last the brothers pluck up determination, and make choice of an employer. so our caledonian friends begin to gather together their traps and make preparations to accompany their complaisant and well-satisfied boss to his farm on the banks of the waikato. and an indescribable joy is in their hearts, for they are to receive six shillings and sixpence a day, and to be provided with comfortable lodging and lavish "tucker" withal; and though, no doubt, they will prove worthy of that high wage to their employer, yet what marvellous wealth it is, compared to the most they could have earned had they remained to toil upon the braes of albyn! of course, very few of the other immigrants get such a wage as that. the two young scots are the picked men of the crowd. five shillings a day and "all found" is the ordinary wage for an agricultural, and though some are worth more, new-chums are generally held to be worth a good deal less for their first year. the distich-- "eight hours' sleep and eight hours' play, eight hours' work and eight bob a day," has been, and is, verified literally over and over again in new zealand; but the "eight bob a day" cannot be called an ordinary wage. a man must be worth his salt and something over to get it, and will not do so unless labour is scarce and in much demand. those who contract, or do work by the piece, often make as much and more if they are first-rate workers; and that kind of engagement is preferred by both employers and employés, as a rule. all sorts of skilled labourers get high wages. carpenters and blacksmiths will get ten and twelve shillings a day with their keep; and when they have saved a little money, and can go on the job by themselves, they may earn an advance on that. i have already noticed the great demand that there is for female house-servants, and the high wages they can get. girls cannot be relied on to stop in a situation very long, as they are sure to receive numerous matrimonial offers; hence there is a perpetual seeking after new domestics. marriage is an institution that turns out uncommonly well here. there is no such thing as a descent to pauperism for those who will work. by little and little the working couple thrive and prosper, and as their family--new zealand families run large, by the way--multiplies and grows up round them, they are able to enjoy the comforts of a competence they could never have attained at home. some settlers, who originally came out, man and wife, as government immigrants drawn from the peasant class, are now wealthy proprietors of broad acres, flocks, and herds; and are able to send their sons to college and their daughters to finishing-schools; the whilom humble servant girl now riding in her carriage, and wearing silk and satin if she list. such are the rewards that may tempt the peasant here. difficulties there are in plenty, but they lessen year by year; while comfort and competence are certain in the end, and wealth even is possible to the industrious. occasionally it happens that among a body of immigrants are one or two who are decidedly unsuitable. there is an example among our particular ship-load. here is a woman, purblind, decrepit, looking sixty years old at least, and, by some incomprehensible series of mistakes, she has found her way out here as a "single girl!" what was the agent-general in london about, and what could the dispatching officer have been thinking of, when they let this ancient cripple pass them? yet here she is, a "single girl" in immigrant parlance; and work she must get somehow and somewhere, for there are no poorhouses or paupers here as yet. but even she, useless to all seeming as she is, and unable to bear her part in the energetic industry of a new country, will find her billet. a good-natured farmer takes her off, judging that she may earn her keep in his kitchen, and if not--well! he is prosperous, and should be generous too. and so old granny toddles away amid the friendly laughter of the crowd, satisfied enough to find there is a niche even for her in our canaan. the great question that of late years has been continually asked of old colonials in england is, what are the prospects afforded by new zealand to men of the middle classes? the answer is usually unfavourable, simply because many colonials cannot disassociate the idea of a gentleman adventurer from that of a scapegrace or ne'er-do-well. secondly, they look at the questioner's present condition; and never take into consideration the power he may have of adapting himself to totally different circumstances. i think this view admits of considerable enlargement, and my experience has led me to believe that many a man, who struggles through life in the old country in some exacting and ill-paid sedentary occupation, might have been benefited by emigration. the colonies have been inundated with ruined spendthrifts, gamblers, drunkards, idle good-for-nothings, who have been induced to emigrate in the belief that that alone was a panacea for their moral diseases. very very few of them have reformed or done any good, so that colonists are naturally prejudiced against their class, and look upon gentleman-new-chums with great suspicion. again, some go out who are too delicate or sensitive to stand the roughnesses they are bound to undergo, and these break down in their apprenticeship the first year or two, and, if they can, go home again to speak evil of the colony ever afterwards. one thing is certain, the educated man has the advantage over the uneducated, and his abler mind will sooner or later be of use to him, although his physique may be weaker than the other's. the gently-nurtured individual finds the preliminary trials of colonial life very hard indeed--he is heavily handicapped at the start--but there is no reason why he may not do well after a time. gentlemen-immigrants usually think they may find work of a congenial sort, such as clerking, assisting in a store, or some occupation of the kind in the city. that is a mistake; while yet they are new-chums there is but one thing for them to do--to go away into the bush and labour with their hands. of new-chums, only artisans are absorbed into the city population as a rule; all others have to look to manual labour of some kind, and generally up-country, for a means of subsistence. all the clerks, counter-jumpers, secretaries, and so on, are either old colonials, or colonists' sons. very rare is it for a gentleman new-chum to find a berth of that sort, perhaps he may after he has become "colonized," but at first he will have to go straight away and fell bush, chop firewood, drive cattle, or tend pigs. about the best advice i ever heard given to middle-class men, who thought of emigrating to new zealand, was couched in some such terms as these. "what are your prospects here? if you have any, stop where you are. but if you have no particular profession, nothing better before you than laborious quill-driving and the like, at eighty pounds a year, and small probability of ever rising so high as two hundred, however many years you stick to the desk, or the yard-measure, then you may think of emigrating. if you are strong and able-bodied, somewhere between sixteen and twenty-six years of age--for over twenty-six men are generally too old to emigrate, i think--i say, emigrate by all means, for you will have a better chance of leading a healthy, happy, and fairly comfortable life. but you must throw all ideas of gentility to the winds, banish the thought of refinement, and prepare for a rough, hard struggle, and it may be a long one, too. you may please yourselves with the prospect of competence, comfort, and even luxury in the distance, but you must look at it through a lengthy vista of real hard work, difficulty, and bodily hardship. success, in a greater or lesser degree, _always_ follows patient industry at the antipodes; it can scarcely be said to do so in britain. "now, _il n'y a que le premier pas qui coûte_, and the worst time you will have is at the first; also, it is only for the start that you need advice, after you become 'colonized' you can look out for yourselves. if you have any particular acquaintance with a useful trade, so much the better; if you have not, and can do so, learn one before you go--carpentry, boat-building, blacksmithing, tinkering, cobbling; it will help you through wonderfully. it doesn't matter twopence _how_ you go out, whether saloon, intermediate, or steerage, so far as your future prospects are concerned. if you can compass the means, go saloon--the extra comfort on a long voyage is well worth the extra price; besides, you might have some returning colonist as fellow-voyager, whose friendship would prove useful. when you land, bank any money you may have brought with you--whether it be ten pounds or ten thousand, i say the same--and resolve not to touch it, however you may be tempted, for two years at least. then go about freely, get into the bush away from the city, make friends with every one everywhere, and let it be known that you are in search of work. very soon you will hear of something or other. take the job, the first that comes in your way, and stick to it till something better turns up. don't be afraid of it whatever it is; don't imagine anything will hurt you or lower your dignity in the slightest so long as it is honest. even if they make you a street-scavenger, remember that is better than loafing. in one year, or two, or three, you will be perfectly at home in the new life, and able to see, according to your abilities, the path that offers you the best prospect of the greatest success. during your new-chum days of apprenticeship you must consider yourself as a common peasant, like the men you will probably have to associate with; don't be disconcerted at that, just work on, and by-and-by you will get ahead of them. you will meet plenty of nice gentlemanly fellows in any part of new zealand, and they will think all the better of you if you are earnestly and energetically industrious. lastly, don't run away with the notion that you are going to jump into luck directly you land. wages are high to the right people, but you are not among those at the outset. you may be satisfied if you do anything more than just earn your keep, for the first six or twelve months." i think that that is, upon the whole, pretty sound advice for the class of men to whom it is addressed; but i will go further, and point out what advantages the average middle-class "young gentleman" may reasonably look forward to from emigration to new zealand. in the first place, he may expect to enjoy robust health, more perfect and enjoyable than he could hope for if tied down to a counting-house stool in the dingy atmosphere of a city. he will exchange the dull monotony of a sedentary occupation in the chill and varying climate of britain, for a life of vigorous action in a land whose climate is simply superb. when he gets through the briars that must necessarily be traversed at the outset, he will find himself happier, freer from anxiety, and, on the whole, doing better than he would be if he had remained at the old life. he will "feel his life in every limb," and, remote from the world, know naught of its cares. if he be anything of a man, before ten or a dozen years are gone he will find himself with a bit of land and a house of his own; he will be married, or able to marry, his earnings will suffice for existence, while every pound saved and invested in property will be growing, doubling, and quadrupling itself for his age and his children. there is something to work for and hope for here: independence, contentment, and competence. it is not a stern struggle from year's end to year's end, with naught at the finish but a paltry pension, dependence on others, or the workhouse. the gentleman-colonist we are talking of is working for a _home_, and, long before his term of life draws to its close, he will find himself, if not rich, at any rate, in the possession of more comfort and happiness than he could hope for in the old country. i am not an emigration-tout, and have no interest in painting my picture in too vivid colours, and in these remarks i have transgressed against some of the ordinary colonial views on the subject; but i have done so with intention, because i consider them not entirely in the right. the colonist says--we don't want gentlemen here, we want men! but he forgets that the unfortunate individual he disparages has often more real manhood at bottom than the class below him. therefore, the middle-class emigrant must remember the qualities most required in him--pluck, energy, and resolution. i have met many middle-class men in the colony, and all contrived to bear out the view i have put forward by their own condition. those who come to grief do so from their own failings and deficiencies. some growl and grumble a little now and then, and think they would rather be back in england; but, when they reflect upon the condition they would probably be occupying at home in the ordinary course of things, they are forced to admit that they are better off. at any rate, such bitter and terrible distress as overtook so many thousands in britain a year or two ago, could scarcely fall to the lot of the same people under any circumstances, if they were industrious colonists. but i have digressed inordinately, and must get back to auckland forthwith. the barracks are empty at last, and all our fellow-voyagers have found each his or her starting-point in the new life. our own little party of cuddy-passengers is dispersed as well. some have gone off to join friends in the country, some are gone on to distant parts of the colony, some have gone this way or that, scattering to work in all directions; only a couple of us are left, and it is time that we should begin to follow the plan we have conceived for ourselves. parting with shipmates, with the faces that have been so long familiar to us, seems to have severed the last link that bound us to the old country, the old home, and the old ways. we shall meet with many of them again, no doubt, but then the old "englishness" will have disappeared, and we shall be at one with those who now are strangers to us, we too shall be new zealanders. henceforth all before us and around us is strange and new, an untried, unknown world. we are about to enter on a life totally different to that we have hitherto led, and it is a life that we have got to make ours for the time to come; for there is no thought in our minds of retreat, even if we find the unknown more distasteful than we think. but, courage! "hope points before to guide us on our way," and, as yet, there is nothing in the prospect but what is bright and inspiriting, surely; nothing to diminish our youthful energy, nothing to daunt our british pluck! the past lies behind us, with its sweet and tender recollections, and with a softened sense of remembrance of those failures and sadnesses and bitternesses that are linked with them. now our cry must be "forward!" for a page in the book of our lives is completely turned down, and we may imagine there is endorsed upon it, "sacred to the memory of auld lang syne!" footnotes: [footnote : . the railway now runs northward to helensville, connecting auckland with the kaipara; and is being pushed on to whangarei. to the south, it penetrates far into the waikato country, and it is only a question of a few years before auckland, new plymouth, wellington, and napier will be joined by rail.] [footnote : . during the last year or two, there has been some depression in new zealand, and, for the first time in her history, many labourers have had difficulty in getting work. but that crisis is now past, and things are rapidly returning--as they were bound to do--to former conditions, such as i have described.] chapter iii. going up country. i and my last remaining shipmate certainly came out here without any very clear idea of what we were going to do. we came to make our fortunes, of course, after the manner of all new-chums, but as to how we were to set about it, and what were to be the first steps we should take, we had the very vaguest notion. however, our condition of existence as new-chums sat very lightly upon us. hope! we were all hope; we were hope incarnate! we felt that we were bound to win. it seemed, though, that the beginning must be made in some fashion that was, to say the least of it, unpleasant, now that we were face to face with the reality. plenty of work offered, but none of it seemed to be of a particularly engaging kind; and, moreover, the wage offered us was extremely paltry, so we considered. for we belonged to that much maligned middle-class, which, in the chrysalis or new-chum stage, is so greatly contemned by colonists. but it happened that, long long ago, a certain schoolfellow of ours had gone forth into the colonial world. he was in the sixth form when we were in the first, or thereabouts; but, as his family and ours were neighbours in the old home, there had been enough intimacy between us. it was owing to his letters home that we had determined on emigration. he had been apprised of our coming, so now we were not surprised to receive a message from him through a resident in auckland. this was an invitation to join him at a distant settlement called te pahi, there to make a beginning at pioneer farm work, and see what might turn up. we found on inquiry that little or nothing was known in auckland of te pahi. it was a new township in the kaipara district, lying sixty or eighty miles north of auckland. that was about the sum of what we could learn of our destination, except that there were very few settlers in the kaipara, and that communication between it and auckland was not very good. somewhat later than this date--in fact, to be precise, in --an auckland newspaper wrote of the kaipara under the title of terra incognita. so that when we decided on going there, we felt that we were about to penetrate an almost unexplored country. but we found out what were the means of transit, and prepared to set out without further delay. now that we were on the point of starting into the bush, and entering into the realities of our new life, we began to encounter the difficulties of our situation. the first that met us would be more annoying were it not for the ludicrousness of it. it was the baggage difficulty, a thing that took us quite by surprise; for, till then, we had never appreciated the word "transport" at its full meaning. like most home-living britons, hitherto surrounded by every facility for locomotion of persons and goods, we had utterly failed to understand that in a new country things are wholly different in this respect. one can get about one's self easily enough; travel can always be accomplished somehow, even if one has to walk; but it is quite another thing to move baggage. in a roadless country, where labour is scarce and dear, the conveyance of goods from place to place is a difficult matter. it can be done, of course, but the cost of it is frightful. our old schoolfellow, who, by the way, will be known under the appellation of "old colonial" in these pages, had apparently had some experience of new-chums before. his agent in auckland had been instructed to see to us, and one of that person's first inquiries was regarding our impedimenta. we had been out-fitted in london by the world-renowned firm of argent and joy. there being no experience to guide us, we had placed ourselves unreservedly in the hands of the firm, and had been provided by them with a sumptuous stock of what they were pleased to term necessaries. altogether, these formed a goodly pile. our bedroom at the hotel was cram full of boxes, trunks, and portmanteaus; and their contents were now spread out for the inspection of our adviser. "good gracious!" was his exclamation when he surveyed our property, and then he mused awhile. "look here!" he said suddenly. "i've got some distressing intelligence to break to you. prepare your minds for a shock. this inheritance is a _dead horse_. chuck it overboard at once!" and he waved his hand impressively over our belongings. we did not understand; we thought this was some new kind of joke--which it was, but not to us. we asked for explanations; all that we wanted was to know how we were to get these things up to the kaipara. our colonial friend sighed deeply, and proceeded mournfully to expound the position. he told us that we could not afford to possess more personals than were absolutely necessary, and these ought to pack into one box of easily portable size. in the first place, the freight of our baggage into the bush would cost us something approaching to the expense of our passage out from england. in the second place, we were not going to a house of our own, but were going to work on different farms, and might be moving about a good deal. we could not carry such a cargo about with us, for the cost of doing so would be simply ruinous. it appeared, too, that we could not even keep the things until we _had_ got a house of our own to store them in. for, our only resource, with that in view, would be to warehouse them in auckland, and the expense of even this dead weight would make too large a hole in our possible earnings. finally, there was hardly anything in our entire outfit that would be of much practical use to us. aghast and grieving, we comprehended at last that we should have to rid ourselves of the too heavy burden with which messrs. argent and joy had weighted us, in consideration of that prodigious and ever-to-be-regretted cheque. there was no help for it. an israelitish dealer, who happily abided in the city, would have to be called in. and it could scarcely be said that he bought our property of us; it was a nearer approach to our having to pay him to take it away. our friend contemptuously examined parcel after parcel of things. dress suits and white waistcoats, broadcloth and doeskin, scarves and gloves, white shirts, collars, and cuffs all appeared to move his derision. he kicked aside a dozen pairs of boots with the remark that-- "there's nothing there fit for this country. rough-hide and hobnails is what you want." certain tweed suits that the fancy of our london tailor had invested with the title "new zealand specialities" were, said our friend, only suitable for colonists who intended to settle on the top of the southern alps. various knick-knacks, dressing-cases, writing-cases, clocks, etcetera, were regarded by him as contemptible lumber. some silk socks he looked upon almost as a criminal possession. in the end we were reduced to a single box apiece, containing something like the following assortment, several items of which had to be purchased in auckland. six flannel shirts, two blankets, two pair moleskin breeches, one light pilot coat, one light tweed coat and trousers (which we wore at the time), some handkerchiefs, some socks, two towels, brush and comb, two pairs of boots, and one pair of leggings, a wide-awake hat, and a few odds and ends. such books as we had we were allowed to retain, for, although the time for reading is very limited in the bush, yet, books being a rare commodity, are much prized there. of course, there was much merriment among the colonials at our expense, but i think the greatest mirth was excited by our cases of revolvers. these we had brought under the idea that they would prove to be a necessity, imagining that war with the maoris was the normal condition of things, and that society was constituted something like what bret harte writes of in the rocky mountains. we had had to pay a tax of five shillings each upon our pistols before bringing them on shore. we were now told that this tax was a main source of the government revenue. again, we were told that the exportation of new-chums' pistols to the united states was one of the main industries of the colony. but our purgatory was over at last, and our splendid outfits had passed into hebrew hands, leaving a very meagre sum of money with us to represent them. and now we are ready to start in earnest. low down in the water, almost beneath the timbers of the wharf, is lying a queer little steam-tub, the _gemini_, which will convey us on the first stage of our journey. a loafer on the wharf cautions us mockingly to step aboard with care, lest we overset the little steamer, or break through her somewhat rickety planking. she is about the size of some of those steam-launches that puff up and down the english thames, but she would look rather out of place among them; for the _gemini_ and her sister boat, the _eclipse_, which carry on the steam service of the waitemata, are neither handsome nor new. they are rough and ready boats, very much the worse for wear. such as they are, however, they suffice for the limited traffic up to riverhead, and to the districts reached through that place. when that increases, doubtless their enterprising owner will replace them with more serviceable craft. punctuality is by no means one of the chief points of the _gemini_, and it is an hour or two after the advertised time before we get off. there is a good deal of snorting and shrieking, of backing and filling, on the part of our bark, and then at last we are fairly on our way up the river. we take a last long look at the good ship that brought us from england, as she lies out at anchor in the harbour, and when a bend in the river hides auckland's streets and terraces from our view, we feel that we have turned our backs on civilization for a while, and are fast getting among the pioneers. on board the _gemini_ is a face we know. it is that of dobbs, a sometime shipmate of ours. he is a farm labourer from sussex, and he and his wife have come out among our ship-load of emigrants. there is a chronic look of wonder on their broad english faces. they are in speechless surprise at everything they see, but chiefly, apparently, at finding themselves actually in a new country at all. dobbs touches his hat, and addresses me as "sir," when he sees me, quite forgetting that we are now in the colonies, where such modes are not practised; regardless also of the fact that i am on my way to just the same life and work that he is himself. the skipper of the _gemini_ notices the action, and grins sarcastically, while he tells a subordinate in a stage-whisper to "just look at them new-chums." english readers must not suppose from this that colonial manners are discourteous. far from it. colonials will not touch their hats, or use any form that appears to remind them of servility, flunkeyism, or inequalities of station. on the other hand, incivility is much more rarely experienced among even the roughest colonials than it is in many parts of the old country, in birmingham, for example. apart from that, the new-chum is the incarnate comedy of colonial life. he is eagerly watched, and much laughed at; yet he is seldom or never subjected to any actual rudeness. on the contrary, he is generally treated with extra tenderness and consideration, on account of his helpless and immature condition. perhaps i may sum up the analysis by saying, that, if polish is lacking to the colonial character, so also is boorishness. our fellow-emigrant tells us that he has been engaged as a farm labourer by a settler at ararimu, near riverhead, and that his wife is to do washing and cooking and dairy-work. they are to have thirty shillings a week, and they, with their child, will have board and lodging provided for them as well, and that in a style a good deal better than agriculturals are accustomed to in england. they seem well enough contented with things, though a trifle daunted by the strangeness of their surroundings. dobbs has misgivings as to the work that will be required of him. he knows, however, that the labourer's day is reckoned at only eight hours here, and is much consoled thereby. very likely we may find him a thriving farmer on his own account, and on his own land, if we should chance to meet again in a few years' time. there is little or no attraction in the scenery along the eighteen or twenty miles of river between auckland and riverhead. great stretches of mud-bank are visible in many places at low tide, varied by occasional clumps of mangrove, and by oyster-covered rocks. the land on either side is mostly of very poor quality, though a good deal of it has been taken up. here and there, we pass in sight of some homestead; a white verandah-ed wooden house, surrounded by its gardens, orchards, paddocks, and fields. the steamer stops, and lies off three or four such places while her dingey communicates with the shore, embarking or disembarking passengers, mails, or goods. generally, though, when the river-banks are low enough to permit of a view beyond them, we see nothing but very barren and shaggy-looking tracts, not unlike scottish moorlands in general aspect. occasionally there are poor scrubby grasslands, where the soil has not done justice to the seed put upon it; and where cattle, horses, and sheep appear to be picking up a living among the fern and ti-tree. as we get nearer to riverhead the stream narrows. this is the point to which the tide reaches. beyond it the waitemata is supplied by two creeks, the riverhead creek and the rangitopuni. here the banks are steep and high, somewhat picturesque, with varied ferns and shrubbery. on the north side the ranges rise into a background of hills. this is the end of our river journey, as is evidenced by the riverhead wharf, built out from the bank. here we land, and are received by two men, who represent the population of the district, and who apparently are idle spectators. by their advice we shoulder our traps, and climb up some steps to the top of the bank. right before us here is an unpretending house, built in the usual rambling style of architecture peculiar to frame-houses in this country. a board stuck up over the verandah announces that this is the hotel; and, as the arrival of the steamer is the signal for dinner, every one makes for the open french windows of the dining-room. dinner is ready we find, and we are ready for it. perhaps about a dozen passengers came up from auckland in the boat, and as many of these as are not at home in the immediate neighbourhood sit down to the table. the party is further augmented by the skipper and his assistants, the wharf-keepers, one or two residents in the hotel, and the host and hostess with their family. quite a large company altogether, and of very promiscuous elements. the only persons not entirely at their ease are dobbs and his wife. they find themselves dining with the "quality," as they would have said at home, and have not yet learnt that that word is written "equality" in this part of the world. at the head of the table sits somebody who is evidently a personage, judging by the flattering attentions paid to him by the daughters of the house, and by the regard with which all but we strangers treat him. it is dandy jack, afterwards to become one of our most intimate and cherished chums. as i shall have more to say about him, perhaps i may here be allowed to formally introduce him to the reader. the first glance at him reveals the origin of his sobriquet. amid the rawness and roughness of everything in the bush, its primitive society included, the figure of dandy jack stands out in strong relief. contrasted with the unkempt, slovenly, ragged, and dirty bushmen with whom he mostly comes in contact, he is the very essence of foppery. yet, as we are afterwards to learn, he is anything but the idle, effeminate coxcomb, whose appearance he so assiduously cultivates. here is a photograph of dandy jack. five feet six inches; broad and muscular, but spare and clean-limbed. curly black hair, and a rosy-complexioned face, clean shaven--contrary to the ordinary custom of the country--all except a thick drooping moustache with waxed ends. a grey flannel shirt, with some stitching and embroidery in front; and a blue silk scarf loosely tied below the rolling collar. no coat this warm weather, but a little bouquet in the breast of the shirt. a tasselled sash round the waist; spotless white breeches, and well-blacked long boots. a panama straw hat with broad brim and much puggeree. an expression of affected innocence in the eyes, and a good deal of fun about the mouth. such is the figure we now look upon for the first time. dandy jack is a character; that one sees at once. he is generally understood to have passed lightly through eton and oxford, to have sown wild oats about europe at large, to have turned up in western america and the pacific, and to be now endeavouring to steady down in new zealand. he has a considerable spice of the devil in him, and is at once the darling of the ladies and the delight of the men. for to the one he is gallantry itself; while, to the other, he is the chum who can talk best on any subject under the sun, with a fluency and power of anecdote and quotation that is simply enchanting. just at present dandy jack has charge of the portage, as it is called, between the waitemata and the kaipara rivers.[ ] he drives the coach, carries the mails, and bosses the bullock-drays that convey goods between riverhead and helensville. and he is rapidly becoming the most horsey man in the whole of the north, being especially active and prominent in every possible capacity on the local race-courses. dinner is over very soon, and a very good one it was, well worth the shilling each of us pays for it. then we take leave of dobbs and his wife, whose future boss has arrived in a rude cart drawn by two horses, in which to drive them and their traps over to his place in ararimu. we ourselves are going on to helensville in the coach, a distance of about eighteen miles. the coach partakes of the crudity which seems impressed upon everything in this new locality. the body of it is not much larger, apparently, than a four-wheeled cab, and does not seem as if it could possibly accommodate more than eight passengers altogether. yet dandy jack avers that he has carried over a score, and that he considers sixteen a proper full-up load. on the present occasion there are not more than half a dozen, besides my chum and i. glass there is none about the coach, but a good deal of leather. springs, properly so-called, are also wanting. the body is hung in some strong rude fashion on broad, substantial wheels. altogether, the machine looks as if it were intended for the roughest of rough work. as strangers, we are invited to occupy the seats of honour--on the box beside the driver. there are no lady passengers to snatch the coveted post from us. dandy jack says to me-- "of course, i should prefer to have a lady beside me, but, somehow, i'm always glad when there arn't any. it's a grave responsibility--a grave responsibility!" whilst we are endeavouring to evolve the meaning of this mysterious remark--it is not until a while later that we fully comprehend it--preparations are being made for the start. four ungroomed, unshod horses are hitched on, and their plunging and capering shows they are impatient to be off. our driver's lieutenant, yankee bill, mounts a fifth horse, and prepares to act as outrider. then dandy jack, loudly shouting, "all aboard! all abo-ard!" springs to his seat, gathers up the reins, without waiting to see whether every one has obeyed his injunction or not, bids the men who are holding the cattle stand clear, gives a whoop and a shake of his whip, and then, with a jolt and a lurch and a plunge, off we go. hitherto we have seen nothing of the settlement, except the hotel and the goods warehouse on the bank above the wharf. these appear to have been shot down into the middle of a moorland wilderness. but now, as the coach surmounts some rising ground, several homesteads come into view, scattered about within a distance of one or two miles. beyond the paddocks surrounding these, all of the country that is visible appears to be covered with tall brown fern, and a low brushwood not unlike heather. as we go lumbering up the rise we are passed by a young lady riding down towards the hotel. very bright and pretty she looks, by contrast with the rough surroundings. quite a lovely picture, in her graceful riding-habit of light drab, and her little billycock hat with its brilliant feather. so think we all, especially our gallant jehu, who bows profoundly in response to a nod of recognition, and turns to look admiringly after the fair equestrian. then, upon the right, we look down upon the great feature of the district, mr. lamb's flour-mill and biscuit-factory. in this establishment are made crackers that are well-known and much esteemed far beyond the limits of new zealand. the riverhead manufacture is known in the south sea and australia. the factory stands on the bank of the creek, having water-power and a water highway at its door. it is a large structure, mostly of timber, with a tall chimney of brick. near it is the residence of the proprietor, and a row of houses inhabited by his employès. the whole is surrounded by a grove of choice trees and shrubs, by gardens and paddocks, evidently in a high state of cultivation. beyond tower the brown and shaggy ranges, and all around is the uncouth moorland. it is an oasis in the desert, this green and fertile spot, a tadmor in the wilderness. yet when we make some remarks, as new-chums will, about the apparent richness of the land down there, a settler, who sits behind, takes us up rather shortly. he appears to consider mr. lamb's estate as a positive offence. "bone-dust and drainage!" he says with a snort of contempt. it seems that the land about us is considered to be of the very poorest quality, sour gum-clay; and any one who sets about reclaiming such sort is looked upon as a fool, at least, although, in this case, it is evident that the cultivation is merely an ornamental subsidiary to the factory. but these poor lands are only bad comparatively. much of the soil in them is better by far than that of many productive farms at home; only our colonial pioneer-farmers have no notion of any scientific methods in agriculture. they have been spoilt by the wondrous fertility of the rich black forest mould, and the virgin volcanic soils. they will continue to regard manuring and draining and so forth as a folly and a sin almost, until the population becomes numerous, and all the first-class lands are filled up. fresh from high-dried systems and theories of agriculture as practised in great britain, we are dumbfounded by the tirade against manuring, and the revolutionary ideas which our coach-companion further favours us with. we are evidently beginning to learn things afresh, though this is our first day in the bush. by the way, i must explain this term to english readers. "bush" has a double signification, a general and a particular one. in its first and widest sense it is applied to all the country beyond the immediate vicinity of the cities or towns. thus, riverhead may be described as a settlement in the "bush," and our road lies through the "bush," though here it is all open moorland. but, in a more particular way, "bush" simply indicates the natural woods and forests. a farmer up-country, who says he has been into the "bush" after cattle, means that he has been into the forest, in contradistinction to his own cleared land, the settlement, or the open country. our road lies at first through the fern lands beyond riverhead, and we soon lose sight of the settlement. we appear to be travelling at random across the moor, for not a trace of what our english eyes have been taught to regard as a road can we discern. the country is all a rugged wilderness of range and gully: "gently undulating," you say, if you want to convey a favourable impression; "abruptly broken and hilly," if you would speak the literal truth. there is not a level yard of land--it is all as rough and unequal as it is possible for land to be. the road is no macadamized way: it is simply a track that, in many parts, is barely visible except to practised eyes. further on, where we pass through tracts of forest, the axe has cleared a broad path; and down some steep declivities there has been a mild attempt at a cutting. where we come upon streams of any size or depth, light wooden bridges have been built; and fascines have made some boggy parts fordable in wet weather. such is our road, and along it we proceed at a hand-gallop for the most part. the jolting may be imagined, it cannot be described; for the four wheels are never by any chance on the same level at one and the same time. when we have proceeded eight or nine miles, dandy jack seems to be preparing himself for some exciting incident. yankee bill gallops alongside, exchanging a mysterious conversation in shouts with him. "better take round by the ford, cap!" "ford be blanked!" answers dandy jack. "the rest of the planking's sure to be gone by this time," continues the cavalier. "then i reckon we'll jump it. ford's two miles round at least, and we're late now." our dandy charioteer glances round on his passengers, and remarks-- "hold on tight, boys; and, if we spill, spring clear for a soft place." so saying, he plants his feet firmly out, takes a better grip of the reins, and crams his hat well on to his head. we ignorant new-chums sit perturbed, for we don't know what is coming, only we do not admire the grim determination of our driver's mouth, or the devilry flashing from his eyes. the rest of the passengers say nothing. they know dandy jack, and are philosophically resigned to their fate. and now we plunge down the side of a gully, steep and wooded, with a brawling torrent pouring along its bottom. the road runs obliquely down the incline, and this descent we proceed to accomplish at a furious gallop, dandy jack shouting and encouraging his horses; his mate riding beside them, and flogging them to harder exertions. then we see what is before us. right at the bottom of the steep road is a bridge across the creek; or, at least, what was once a bridge, for a freshet or something seems to have torn it partially up. originally built by throwing tree-trunks across from bank to bank, and covering these with planking, what we now see seems little more than a bare skeleton; for nearly all the planking is gone, and only the rough bare logs remain--and of these several are displaced, so that uncomfortable-looking gaps appear. some feet below the level of this ruined bridge a regular cataract is flowing. across the frail scaffolding--you can call it no more--that spans the torrent, it is clearly dandy jack's intention to hurl the coach, trusting to the impetus to get it over. we shut our eyes in utter despair of a safe issue, and hold on to our seats with the clutch of drowning men. it is all that we can do. meanwhile the four horses, maddened by the whoops and lashes of our excited jehu and his aid, are tearing down the slope at racing speed. the coach is bounding, rocking, jolting at their heels in frightfully dangerous fashion. we dare not glance at dandy jack, but we feel that he is in his element; and that, consequently, we are in deadly peril. then the chorus of yells grows louder and fiercer, the swish of the whips more constant and furious. there is a tremendous rattle, a series of awful bumps that seem to dislocate every bone in my body, a feeling that the coach is somersaulting, i appear to be flying through space among the stars, and then--all is blank. when i recall my shocked and scattered senses, a minute or two later, i find myself half-buried, head downward, among moss and fern. i pick myself out of that, and stupidly feel myself all over, fortunately finding that i have sustained no particular injury. then i survey the scene. we are on the other side of the stream--so much i discover--but we have evidently not attained it without a mishap. not to put too fine a point upon it, we have experienced a most decided spill. the coach has overturned just as it crossed the bridge, and passengers and baggage have been shot forth into the world at large. fortunately, the ground was soft with much vegetation, so that no one is much hurt; the "insides" alone being badly bruised. there is a confused heap of plunging hoofs, and among them dandy jack and yankee bill are already busy, loosening the traces and getting the horses on their feet. the passengers go one by one to their assistance, and much objurgation and ornamental rhetoric floats freely through the atmosphere. presently, the coach is got on its wheels again by united effort, and it is found to be none the worse for the accident. in truth, its builder seems to have had an eye to such casualties as that we have suffered, and has adapted the construction of the machine to meet them. but with the horses it is different. three of them are speedily got on their legs and rubbed down, being no more than scared. the fourth, however, cannot rise, and examination shows that one of its legs is broken, and probably the spine injured as well. it is evident the poor creature is past all further service. so dandy jack sits on its head, while yankee bill pulls out his sheath-knife and puts the animal out of misery. i overhear our eccentric driver murmuring-- "woe worth the chase, woe worth the day that cost thy life, my gallant grey!"-- adding, in a louder voice-- "twelve pounds i paid for that critter; but i reckon i've had the profit out of it, anyhow!" the horse that yankee bill was riding is now unsaddled and hitched up with the others, in place of the dead one. for baggage and passengers are being collected again, and it seems we are going on as though nothing had happened. it is, perhaps, not strange that no one should express surprise at the accident; but it is certainly singular that no one shows any resentment towards our driver, or blames him in any way. the prevailing feeling is one of simple congratulation that things are no worse. one would think the accident was quite a usual affair, and had even been expected. a passenger remarks quite seriously-- "i will say this for dandy jack: he always contrives that you shall pitch into a soft place." they seem about to offer a vote of thanks to this reckless madman, for having overturned us without hurt to any one! it occurs to us two new-chums that our life in this country is likely to be eventful, if this kind of thing is the ordinary style of coaching. and we begin to understand what our driver meant, when he alluded to the grave responsibility of having a lady among his passengers; for his driving is only comparable to the driving of the son of nimshi. before we proceed on our way, the foppery of our charioteer reasserts itself. of course, his neat and spruce trim has been considerably disarrayed, so now he proceeds to reorganize his appearance. gravely and calmly he draws brushes and so on from a receptacle under the box-seat, and commences to titivate himself. this is too much. laughter and jibes and energetic rebukes fall on him thick as hail. at first he pays no attention; then he says slowly-- "look here! if any one wants to walk the rest of the way, he can do it. i'm willing to split fares for the half journey!" there is a covert threat in this, and as no one cares to quarrel with the speaker, his eccentricities are allowed to develop themselves without further interference. then we resume our drive on to helensville. for the most part the road passes through open country, but we now more frequently see scrub and bush in various directions. at one place, indeed, for about two miles, we pass through forest. the trees, mostly kahikatea, seem to our english eyes of stupendous proportions, but we are told they grow much bigger in many other parts. signs of human life are not altogether wanting in these wilds. we pass a dray coming down from the kaipara, laden with wool, and pull up, that dandy jack may have a private conversation with the driver of it. this dray is a huge waggon, built in a very strong and substantial style, and it is drawn by twelve span of bullocks. here and there among the fern, usually in the bottom of a gully beside some patch of scrub, we have noticed little clusters of huts. these are not maori wharès, as we suppose at first, but are the temporary habitations of gum-diggers, a nomadic class who haunt the waste tracts where kauri-gum is to be found buried in the soil. in a few places we pass by solitary homesteads, looking very comfortable in the midst of their more or less cultivated paddocks and clearings. these are usually fixed on spots where the soil, for a space of a few hundred acres, happens to be of better quality than the gum-lands around. at most of these settlers' houses somebody is on the look-out for the coach, and there is a minute's halt to permit of the exchange of mails or news. for travellers along the road are very few in number, and the bi-weekly advent of the coach is an event of importance. the afternoon is wearing late, and the rays of the declining sun are lengthening the shadows, when we emerge on the top of a high hill that overlooks the valley of the kaipara. a wide and magnificent prospect lies spread before us. far down below the river winds through a broad valley, the greater expanse of which, being low and swampy, is covered with a dense thicket of luxuriant vegetation. in parts we see great masses of dark, sombre forest, but even in the distance this is relieved by variety of colouring, flowering trees, perhaps, or the brilliant emerald of clusters of tree-ferns. right out on the western boundary a line of hills shuts out the sea, and their summits glisten with a strange ruddy and golden light--the effect of the sun shining on the wind-driven sand that covers them. to the north the river widens and winds, until, far away, we get a glimpse of the expanding waters of the kaipara harbour. successive hills and rolling ranges, clothed with primeval forest, close in upon the valley. about the centre of the broad-stretching vale, we discern a little patch of what looks like grass and cleared land. there is here a cluster of houses, whitely gleaming beside the river, and that hamlet is helensville--the future town and metropolis of the kaipara. the road, from the hill-top where we are, winds in a long descent of about two miles down to the township. it is scarcely needful to say that dandy jack considers it incumbent on him to make his entrance into helensville with as much flourish and _éclat_ as possible. accordingly, we proceed along the downhill track at breakneck speed, and come clattering and shouting into the village, amid much bustle and excitement. we are finally halted in an open space before the hotel, which is evidently intended to represent a village green or public square, the half-dozen houses of the place being scattered round it. the entire population has turned out to witness our arrival: a score or so of bearded, sunburnt, rough-looking men, three or four women, and a group of boys and children. a babel of conversation ensues. we, as new-chums, are speedily surrounded by a group anxious to make our acquaintance, and are eagerly questioned as to our intentions. several persons present are acquainted with old colonial, and when it is known that we are going to join him, we are at once placed on the footing of personal friends. hospitality is offered, invitations to take a drink at the bar are given us on all sides. we accept, for we are not total abstainers--or sich!--and are in that condition when the foaming tankard is an idea of supreme bliss. the hotel is larger and more pretentious than that at riverhead. it is better built, and has a second storey and a balcony above the verandah. it is furnished, too, in a style that would do credit to auckland--we particularly noticing some capital cabinet-work in the beautiful wood of the mottled kauri. and then we are treated to a dissertation on the wonderful advantages and prospects of helensville, some day to be a city and seaport, a manufacturing centre and emporium of the vast trade of the great fertile tracts of the kaipara districts. we are assured that there is no place in all new zealand where it could be more advantageous to our future to settle in than here. and so to supper, and finally to bed, to sleep, and to dream of the wonders that shall be; to dream of cathedrals and factories and theatres rising here, and supplanting the forest and scrub around us; to dream of splendid streets along the banks of the kaipara, but streets which ever end in rocky wooded gullies, down which we plunge incessantly, behind a rushing nightmare that is driven either by a demon or by dandy jack. footnotes: [footnote : a railway across this portage was opened for traffic in . it has since been continued from riverhead to auckland, and is now-- --being pushed forward to the north, from helensville on to whangarei.] chapter iv. in the kaipara. the next morning after our arrival at helensville, we go down to the wharf, close behind the hotel, and embark on board the steamer _lily_. this vessel is the only regular means of communication, at present, with the young settlements lying round the kaipara. she is a much larger craft than the _gemini_, but she is of the same ancient and ruinous character. one would have thought that, on these new waters, such craft as there were must necessarily be new also.[ ] such does not appear to be the case, however, for the steam service on the waitemata and the kaipara is conducted by very second-hand old rattle-traps. where they were worn out i know not. bad as they are, they are considered a local improvement, for, until quite recently, settlers had to depend on small sailing-boats, that plied very irregularly. the kaipara is a name applied rather indiscriminately to a river, a harbour, and to a tract of country. the kaipara river is that on which helensville stands. it waters an extensive valley, and, flowing north-westerly, falls into the kaipara harbour, some miles below helensville. it is tidal to a short distance above the settlement. the harbour is a vast inlet of the sea, almost land-locked, since its entrance, the heads, is only about three or four miles wide. opening from the harbour are sundry great estuaries, resembling the sea-lochs of western scotland. they are the kaipara, the hoteo, the oruawharo, the otamatea, the wairau, the arapaoa, and the wairoa. several of these have branches. thus the pahi, to which we are going, branches out of the arapaoa. they are fed by creeks--that is to say, by freshwater rivers, as one would call them at home. the tidal estuaries are here called rivers; and the freshwater streams, of whatever size, creeks. all these waters have the generic name of the kaipara. the united water-frontage is said to be over a thousand miles; and nearly two million acres of land lying round are comprised within the so-called kaipara district. ships of heavy tonnage can get up to tokatoka on the wairoa, to te pahi and te otamatea, and within a short distance of helensville, these places being, respectively, from twenty-five to thirty-five miles from the heads. smaller vessels can, of course, go anywhere. the wairoa creek is navigable for schooners and cutters for more than eighty miles, as well as its tributaries, the kaihu, kopura, tauraroa, and maungakahia. we have come into a district admirably adapted for pioneer settlement. for nature has supplied water-ways in every direction, and thus the first great difficulty in opening up a new country, the want of roads, is obviated. here, indeed, as we shall find, no one walks to his township, or rides to see a neighbour, he jumps into his boat and rows or sails wherever he wants to go. as the _lily_ steams down the kaipara, we get a better idea of the bush than our previous day's coach-ride had given us. there is no more of the brown and shaggy gum-land, but, instead of it, such glorious woods and jungles and thickets of strange beautiful vegetation. mile after mile it is the same, the dense evergreen forest stretching away over the ranges as far as one can see. here it is the light bush, woods of young trees that have grown over what were once the sites of maori cultivation; there it is the heavy bush, the real primeval forest. one great feature of the kaipara tidal estuary is the quantity of mangroves. immense tracts are covered with water at high tide, and are left bare at low tide. these mud-banks are covered with mangroves in many places, forming great stretches of uniform thicket. the mangrove is here a tree growing to a height of twenty or thirty feet, branching thickly, and bearing a dark, luxuriant foliage. at high water, the mangrove swamps present the appearance of thickets growing out of the water. when the tide recedes, their gnarled and twisted stems are laid bare, often covered with clinging oysters. below, in the mud, are boundless stores of pipi (cockles), and other shell-fish and eels. the channel of the river is broad and deep, but often, to save some bend, the _lily_ ploughs her way along natural lanes and arcades among the mangroves. it is a novel experience to us to glide along the still reaches among these fluviatile greenwoods. we are embosomed in a submerged forest, whose trees are uniform in height and kind. all round us, like a hedge, is the glossy green foliage, sometimes brushing our boat on either side. and we scare up multitudes of water fowl, unused to such invasion of their solitudes. wild duck, teal, grey snipe, shags, and many kinds that no one on board knows the names of, start from under our very bows. not gay plumaged birds, though, for the most part; only now and then a pair of kingfishers, flashing green and orange as they fly, or the purple beauty of a pukeko, scuttling away into the depths of the swamp. by-and-by we emerge into the expanse of the harbour. once out in it we could almost imagine ourselves at sea, for, from the low deck of the _lily_, we only see the higher grounds and hill-tops round, looking like islands in the distance, as we cannot descry the continuity of shore. and now we have leisure to make closer acquaintance with the boat that carries us. the _lily_ is a queer craft. though old and rickety, she gets through a considerable amount of work, and is sufficiently seaworthy to fight a squall, when that overtakes her in the harbour. not that a gale is by any means a light affair, in this wide stretch of water. when one is blowing, as it sometimes does for two or three days at a time, the _lily_ lies snugly at anchor in some sheltered cove, and settlers have to wait as patiently as may be for their mails or goods. she knows her deficiencies, and will not face stormy weather, if she can help it. three times a week she visits certain of the kaipara settlements, returning from them on alternate days. the arrangement is such that each township gets--or is supposed to get--one weekly visit from her. she is a boat with a character, or without it, which means about the same thing in the present instance. she has also a skipper, who is something of a character in his way. the pirate, or pirate tom, as he is indifferently called, is a gentleman of some importance locally, for he is the channel of communication between the kaipara settlers and the outside world. he is a man of ferocious aspect, black-bearded to the eyes, taciturn, and rough in demeanour. in his hot youth, he is credited with having borne his part in certain questionable proceedings in the south sea, and hence his appellation. freights run very high on the _lily_, and it is by no means certain how far the pirate may be concerned in keeping them so. he is apt to be captious, too, as regards the transit of cargo, and will refuse to do business if it is his whim, or if any particular individual happen to offend him; for he is lord paramount over the river traffic, and well does he know how to turn that to his own advantage. apparently, he considers that he does you a personal favour if he carries you or your goods, and you have to keep on his good books, lest he should not condescend to do either. besides the playful way in which he manipulates the commerce of the district, pirate tom has another mode in which he adds to his gains. at some of the river townships and stations there is no hotel, or store, where liquor can be obtained. the only immediate facility that settlers and bushmen at such places have for procuring it, is such as is afforded by the boat. the pirate is always ready to dispense the vile compounds he call spirits to all comers--sixpence per drink being his price, as it is the established tariff of the colony. it is held to be manners to ask him to partake himself, when any one desires to put away a nobbler; and the pirate, being an ardent disciple of bacchus, was never yet known to refuse any such invitation. he also sells, at seven shillings a bottle, the most atrocious rum, brandy, or "square" gin. to assist him in the management of his craft, the pirate has under him an engineer and a dutch lad. the former of these has, of course, his special duties; the latter is cook and steward, sailor, landing-agent, and general utility man. he goes by the name of "the crew." to beguile the tedium and monotony of constant voyaging, "the crew" is wont to exercise his mind by conversation with such passengers as there may be. he is of a very inquiring disposition, and asks leading questions of a very personal nature. seeing that i am a new-chum, he begins to ask me my name, age, birthplace, who my parents were, where i formerly lived, what i did, what my cousins and aunts are, their names, and all about them, and so on, a series of interminable catechetical questions on subjects that, one would think, could not possibly have any interest for him. this would be gross impertinence, were it not that "the crew" is perfectly unconscious of giving any offence. he only asks for information, like rosa dartle; and this questioning is his idea of polite sociability. among the points of interest about the _lily_, the most noticeable are the engines with which she is supplied. these are fearfully and wonderfully contrived. how such rusty, battered, old-fashioned, rough-and-ready machinery can be got to work at all, it is hard to say; but it does. of course the engines are continually breaking down, or bursting, or doing something or other offensive. but whatever may happen, the pirate and his two aids consider themselves equal to the emergency, and make shift to tinker up the mishap somehow. such unlooked for examples of misapplied force are constantly occurring, the consequence being that repairs are as often called for. thus it is that the engines present a very extraordinary and uncommon appearance. report has, perhaps, added somewhat to the truth, but numerous legends are current in the kaipara about the _lily_, her engines, and her captain. these amateur artificers are not in the least particular as to the materials they use for effecting their repairs, nor are they given to considering the relative differences of the metals. on one occasion, rust had eaten a hole through the boiler, and leakage ensued. promptly they set to work, and soldered the lid of a biscuit-tin over the weak place. then the boat went on as usual. once again, so it is said, something or other gave way--some screw, or cock, or lever failed to act. the boat became unmanageable, could not be stopped, or slowed, or done anything with. in short, she ran away. but pirate tom was not to be imposed on by any such feeble tricks. he immediately steered the _lily_ slap into the nearest bank and tied her up to a tree. then the three went on shore, with a bottle of rum and a pack of cards, and sat down at a respectful distance to await the progress of events, and to enjoy a game of cut-throat euchre. the engineer bet pirate tom a note--colonial for a sovereign--that the engines would blow up, and the latter laid on the chance that the rebel craft would spend herself kicking at the bank. after churning up the mud, plunging at the bank, and straining at her tether for an hour or so, the _lily_ quieted down, all her steam having worked off. so the pirate won and pocketed the engineer's note; and then the party adjourned on board again, to resume their ordinary avocation of tinkering up. in the log of the _lily_ there is supposed to be an entry, which would seem to indicate that the pirate is not invariably so lucky as on the last-mentioned occasion. it is his rule never to spend any more money on repairs than what cannot possibly be avoided. there was an unsafe steam-pipe, which might easily have been replaced at a trifling cost; but, of course, the pirate would spend nothing on it, and relied on his own usual resources. one day the steam-pipe burst, when a number of passengers were on board, and a woman got her legs scalded. after that, the pirate found it absolutely necessary to get a new steam pipe; and was, besides, heavily mulcted in an action brought against him by the injured lady. the entry referred to probably runs like this:-- £ s. d. to a new steam-pipe to fine and costs to damages awarded to mrs. ---- by the court to doctor's fees for attendance on mrs. ---- on the whole, pirate tom did not take much by his economy on that occasion. but the lesson was not of any lasting use. he will go on in his old way, and will take his chance of accidents. the defects of the _lily_ do not cause us any annoyance, on this occasion of our first voyage aboard of her. she is on her best behaviour, for a wonder, and neither breaks down, nor bursts up, nor runs away. we steam over a great stretch of the harbour, noticing here that strange effect, when the distant land seems to be lifted above the horizon, and to have a belt of sky between it and the water. then we pass into river after river, proceeding up each some miles, to the townships, or stations, where we have to call, then descending into the harbour again, only to go on to the entrance of yet another river. the scenery is very varied, and there is much in it to attract our regard. sometimes we pass below lofty bluffs, by wild rocky shores and islets, sometimes along great stretches of mud-bank or mangrove swamp. the land on all sides is a primitive wilderness for the most part. range after range sweeps and rolls away, while ravines and gullies and basins open upon the rivers, with tumbling creeks or graceful cascades pouring through them. one might suppose that some giant of yore had ploughed out this country and left it. a newly-ploughed field must seem, to an ant's vision, something like the contour of this to ours. the land is richly wooded. here and there we see the heavy bush, mammoth trees soaring up, overhung with creepers and ferns; but the heavy bush is chiefly at some distance from the waterside. what we see most of here is the light bush; dense thickets of shrubs, and smaller trees, resembling our remembrance of the denes and copses of england, or epping and the new forest. to us new-chums it seems absurd to call this bush "light," but we can see that it is so by comparison with the primeval forest, where the tree-trunks run from ten to forty feet in girth. once upon a time, when they numbered millions, the maoris inhabited these shores pretty thickly. they preferred to be near the water, as settlers do now, for the same reason of convenience in communication, and also because fish was a chief article of their diet. all the land near the rivers has been at some time under their cultivation, and the light bush has grown up upon it since. so late as fifty years ago, the ngatewhatua tribe, who were lords of the kaipara, were very numerous; but were then nearly exterminated in a war with the ngapuhi of the north. still, numerous as they may have been then, they could not have held the immense tracts here under cultivation. that must date from a more remote period. but the places where their villages stood, in the early part of this century, are now buried under such a wealth of scrub and shrubbery, as to show very clearly how rich is the soil and how fruitful the climate. we see at last what we have long been looking for, hitherto to no purpose, namely, maoris and their habitations. brown, gypsey-like people they appear in the distance, wearing ordinary clothes like europeans, only dirty and ragged usually. here and there we pass a cluster of their wharès, low down near the beach--brown huts of thatch-like appearance, for they are made of raupo grass. some of them are very neat, with carved and painted doors and fronts. near them is usually some fenced-in cultivation, and possibly a rough-grassed clearing, on which may be a few cattle or horses. there are always pigs and dogs visible, and brown naked children disporting themselves on the beach, where canoes are drawn up, fishing nets spread out, and a scaffolding erected to dry shark-meat upon. few and far between are these evidences of the native race, and few and far between, also, are evidences of the new nation that is supplanting it. frere, the statesman, speaking of spain, said--he loved it because god had so much land there in his own holding. if he could say that of spain's bare sierras and bleak barrancas, what would he not have said of this land, whose splendid woods and forests clothe the hills and fill the glens with verdure. here and there we lie off some settler's station, a white wooden homestead, perhaps with a few outbuildings beside it, perhaps alone; round it the pastures won by the axe and the fire, a mere bite out of the boundless woods behind. at such places "the crew" paddles ashore in the dingey, or possibly a boat comes off to us, bearing two or three bushmen, who, may be, think that the opportunity for getting a nobbler ought not to be suffered to pass by. we have three or four townships to call at, places where the government has set aside a certain tract of land for a future town. a township site is cut up--on paper--into allotments, which are sold, or kept in the land office until wanted. from what we see of the kaipara towns, they are very much in embryo as yet. te otamatea, for instance, is a single house and nothing more. this is our ideal of a bush settlement; it is as it should be--not too much humanity and crowd. the house, a rambling, wooden building, is of a good size though, being an hotel and store. round it are several hundred acres of grass. sometimes it is very festive, for a large maori kainga is not far off; and at te otamatea a race-course has been made, where the annual races of the kaipara districts are held. altogether, we like te otamatea, with its beautiful situation and lovely views, better than port albert. this is a sort of bloated manchester or birmingham of the district. no less than six or seven houses are visible close together. if you count barns and byres, and such more distant houses as are visible from the steamer's deck, there must be over a dozen. it is horridly populous. moreover, one sees here, so strongly marked, that uncouth rawness that attends incipient civilization. nature has been cleared away to make room for the art of man, and art has not yet got beyond the inchoate unloveliness of bare utilitarianism. the beautiful woods have given place to a charred, stumpy, muddy waste, on which stand the gaunt, new frame-houses. gardens, orchards, cornfields, and meadows are things to come; until they do the natural beauty of the place is killed and insulted. but what have we to do with sentimental rubbish? this is progress! bless it! of course we did not expect to get to our destination all in a minute, for te pahi is more than forty miles from helensville, in a straight line. we started about five o'clock in the morning, but it is late in the day before we get into the arapaoa. by taking advantage of the tides, the _lily_ manages to accomplish ten knots an hour. but the going in and out of different rivers, though we do not go far up any of them, and the various stoppages, short though they be, make it late in the afternoon before we sight te pahi. we are coming up the broad arapaoa, and before us we suddenly see te pahi, a vision of loveliness, "our" township, as we are already calling it. a high, wooded bluff, the termination of a hill-range behind, rushes out into the tranquil, gleaming water. round the base of the bluff, on a little flat between it and the white shingly beach, are the houses of the settlement. four families live here at this time; and besides their abodes, there are a row of three cottages, called immigrant barracks, a boatbuilder's workshop, and an assembly hall. the neatest, fairest, best, and to-be-the-most-progressive of all the kaipara townships. we say this "as shouldn't;" but it is so. the broad, lake-like expanse of water over which we are moving--four miles across from shore to shore--parts before te pahi. it stretches away to the left in a wide reach, to form the matakohe, out of which opens the paparoa, hidden from sight at this point. before us, bearing to the right, is the pahi river. it is a vista of woodland scenery, glorious in the rays of the declining sun. its shores are steep, and broken into numberless little bays and promontories, all clothed with bush to the water's edge. far up, the towering ranges close down and terminate the view. on the left of our position the shore is not so high, and we can see a good deal of grass, with the white homestead of a settler's station. beyond is what appears to be a chain of distant mountains. looking to the right an exclamation bursts from our lips, for there is the loveliest view we have yet seen. a deep, semi-circular bay falls back from the river, bordered with a belt of dazzling shingle. beyond and round it rises a perfect amphitheatre, filled with bush more sumptuous and varied than any we have gazed upon all day. the range seems to rise in terraces, and just one abrupt gap about the centre discloses the peak of a conical hill behind. the whole is a perfect idyllic picture, not to be described in a breath; for this is the showplace of the kaipara. it is te puke tapu, famous in maori history as the scene of a great battle. beautiful as this place is, it would doubtless soon have been marred by the pitiless axe and fire of the settler, but that it is sacred soil. the maoris will not enter it, and they prohibit europeans from transgressing within its boundaries. nor will they sell the land, although its superb fertility has induced some settlers to offer almost fabulous prices. for, under those rich greenwoods, caressed and buried in ferns, lie scattered the bony relics of the flower of ngatewhatua chivalry. so much and more a fellow-passenger tells us, while we gaze at the view, inwardly wondering whether wandering artist will ever present this glorious landscape now before us to people at home. but the story must be reserved for another time, until we are able to do justice to it. at last the _lily_ is lying right off the beach of te pahi township, and her whistle is echoing among the woods on the ranges above, scaring the shags, kingfishers, and rock-snipe on the oyster-beds and beaches. very speedily, two or three people appear at the township, and one of them puts off in a boat to board us. to him we are shortly introduced by the pirate, and handed over to his care, as candidates for a berth in the immigrant barracks. we discuss a nobbler, which is at once a farewell one with pirate tom, "the crew," and the rest of our fellow-passengers, and an introductory ceremony with our new acquaintance, "the mayor." a merry, athletic, thoroughly healthy and hearty englishman is our friend, the mayor, always in a hurry and bustle of business, for his avocations are startlingly numerous. he is the oldest inhabitant of the township, and was called the mayor when he dwelt there solitary, a few years ago. now he is postmaster, storekeeper, justiciary, acting-parson, constabulary, board of works, tax-gatherer, customs officer, farmer, dealer in everything, town clerk, lawyer, doctor, and, perhaps, a score of things beside, as they reckon such in te pahi. the mayor hurries us and our traps ashore in his boat, and deposits us on the beach. then he hastens back to the steamer, bidding us wait there, as "he'll be back to fix us before we can have time to wink." half a dozen men and boys--the entire population--stand at a little distance, regarding us shyly, but inquisitively, with pocketed hands. some young children are also apparent. as we stand gazing about us, and wondering how to make acquaintance with the group, a little girl comes running up to us. it is always the superior sex, you see, even in the bush, that make the first advances. she offers us peaches, the little bright-eyed, sunny-faced thing; and readily submits to be kissed; indeed, appears to expect it. then she prattles away to us in right merry fashion. the little incident breaks the ice. the group of men come forward and enter into conversation. perhaps a trifle constrained at first--for dwellers in the bush necessarily lose the readiness of people more accustomed to society--they show themselves anxious enough to be hospitable and welcoming. they are eager to know who we are, naturally, what we are going to do, and so forth. when it comes out that we have advented to join old colonial, we are admitted as chums at once, and formally accepted as free citizens of the soon-to-be prosperous and thriving town of te pahi. by-and-by the mayor gets back; and the _lily_ steams off again on her way to matakohe, where she will anchor for the night, returning to helensville next day. old colonial, it seems, is away up the river somewhere, but is expected at the township that night, as he knows that the steamer is due, and that we were likely to come by it. and now what are we to do? go to the immigrant barracks, we suppose, since they are expressly designed for the accommodation of such new-chums as ourselves. barracks be hanged! is it likely that we are to be allowed to go there while the mayor has a comfortable house in which to receive guests? not likely! why, others of the citizens are intent on hospitality as well, and any of the four homes of the place may be ours for the present, if we will. but the mayor is not going to be choused out of his guests; don't you believe it! what is he mayor and boss of the township for, he would like to know, if not to look after new-chums? besides, on his own sole responsibility, he has turned the immigrant barracks into a warehouse for produce, since no immigrants ever seemed to be coming to occupy them. so, he is in a measure bound to take possession of us, don't you see? and, by jove, he means to, what's more! then we walk along to the mayor's residence, and a comfortable, well-furnished house it is, quite a surprise to us, who hardly expected home-comforts in the bush. but then the mayor is a thriving man, and has a wife to look after him. a cheerful, amiable lady bids us welcome, with a heartiness as though she were only too glad to see us, although it would appear as if her hands were full enough of housework already, without the additional care of looking after a couple of helpless, unready new-chums. but strangers are so rare up here, that much must be made of them when they do come; therefore, the fatted calf is killed, so to speak, and we are regaled in handsome fashion. later, after supper, there is a sudden arrival in the darkness of the night. we hear a stamping on the verandah outside, and a loud, lusty, half-remembered voice addressing the mayor. "have they come, i say? where are they, then?" the door of the room we are sitting in bursts open, and a burly, bearded man, rough and savage enough in outward appearance, sooth to say, rushes in upon us. he seizes our hands in a grip that brings the tears to our eyes, he shakes them up and down with vehemence, and while we are trying to make out whether this old colonial can really and truly be our sometime schoolfellow, he exclaims-- "well, this _is_ good! i _am_ glad to see you! _now_ we'll have a splendid time! now we'll _make_ this old place hum round! oh, but this is glorious!" thus, and much more; and so, with the true, hearty good-fellowship of the bush, are we welcomed to our future home. * * * * * and now that we have arrived at the scene of our future work, let this chapter close. no need any longer to pursue our history as new-chums. in the pages that follow we will resume the story at a further date, when we have arrived at the full estate of settlers and colonists. such thread of narrative as these sketches possess shall henceforth be unwound off another reel. footnotes: [footnote : it must be remembered that this is ten or twelve years ago though it holds good down to . since the railway was made more colonists have come into the district, and two fine new steamers now ply on the kaipara waters.] chapter v. our shanty. several years ago now, we bought our land from the maoris, and settled down here upon the pahi. necessarily, our first proceeding was to construct a habitation. we might have employed the carpenter and boat-builder, who resides at the township, to put up a good and well-made frame-house for us, for a price of a hundred pounds or upwards. but we had entire confidence in our own abilities, and besides, there was something enticing in the idea of building our future home with the actual labour of our own hands. moreover, there was another reason, possibly of chief importance: we could not afford to pay for a house. after paying for our land, paying for our farm-stock, and calculating our resources for meeting the current expenses of the first year or two, we found there was but slight margin for anything else; therefore we decided to build a shanty ourselves. meantime, we were camped on our new estate in a manner more picturesque than comfortable. a rude construction of poles covered with an old tarpaulin sufficed us. it was summer weather, and this was quite good enough for a beginning. from step to step, that is the way to progress, so we said. first the tent or wharè, temporarily for a few weeks; then the shanty, for a year or two; then, as things got well with us, a well-finished frame-house; finally, a palace, a castle in the air, or anything you like. there are shanties and shanties. it is necessary to explain. primarily, in its canadian and original sense, the term means a log-house--a hut made of rough squared logs, built up upon each other. such log-huts are not common in this country, though they may be seen here and there. the mild climate does not require such a style of building. the labour of cutting and squaring logs for the purpose is great. the native wharè of thatch is quickly and easily raised, serves all requirements, and lasts for years. in most parts hitherto settled, water-communication places the settler within reach of a saw-mill, where he can obtain boards and so on at very moderate cost. a shanty here, is a name applied to almost any kind of nondescript erection, which would not come under the designation of wharè, or be honoured by the ambitious title of house. rough edifices of planking are the common form. we went up to tokatoka on the wairoa, and there we purchased enough sawn timber for our purpose, for about twelve or fifteen pounds. we hired a big punt, and fetched this stuff down to our place, a distance of some forty miles or so by water. then we set to work at building. the site we selected was an ambitious one; too much so, as we were afterwards to discover. from the first old colonial objected to it. it was too far from the river, he said, and would necessitate such an amount of "humping." bosh about humping! returned the majority. it was only a temporary affair; in a year or two we should be having a regular frame-house. old colonial gave way, for he perceived that, as our acknowledged boss, he would have but little of the humping to do himself. and the chosen site was central for the first proposed clearings of our future farm. the selected spot was a rising ground in the centre of a broad basin, nearly a mile across. steep ranges surround this basin, and the whole was then covered with light bush. half a mile in front is a mangrove swamp, beyond which flows the river--the mangroves filling up a space that without them would have been an open bay. the prospect in this direction is bounded by the forest-clothed ranges on the opposite side of the river, which is here about a mile in breadth. the land within the basin is nothing like level, and english farmers might be frightened at its ruggedness. to colonial eyes, however, it seems all that could be desired. knolls and terraces gradually lead up to the ranges, which sweep away to run together into a high hill called marahemo, about three miles behind us. the little eminence, on which stands the shanty, slopes down on the left to a flat, where originally flax and rushes did most abound. through this flat a small creek has channelled a number of little ponds and branches on its way to the river beyond. on the right the bank is steeper, and upon it stand a number of cabbage-tree palms. down below is a little rocky, rugged gully, with a brawling stream rushing through it. just abreast of the shanty this stream forms a cascade, tumbling into a pool that beyond is still and clear and gravelly. it is a most romantically beautiful spot, shaded and shut in completely by fern-covered rocks and overhanging trees. this is our lavatory. here we bathe, wash our shirts, and draw our supplies of water. this creek flows down through the mangrove swamp to the river; and, at high-water, we can bring our boats up its channel to a point about a quarter of a mile below the shanty. the site of the shanty has its advantages; but it has that one serious drawback foreseen by old colonial. somehow or other, year after year has flown by, and still we have not got that frame-house we promised ourselves. it is not for want of means, or because we have not been quite so rapidly successful as we anticipated. of course not! away with such base insinuations! but we have never any time to see about it, and are grown so used to the shanty that we do not seem to hanker after anything more commodious. so all these years, we have had to hump on our backs and shoulders every blessed thing that we have imported or exported, from the shanty to the water, or the contrary--sacks of flour, sugar, and salt, grindstones, cheeses, meat, furniture. oh, misery! how our backs have ached as we have toiled up to our glorious site, while old colonial laughed and jeered, as his unchristian manner is. our work began with the timbers of the shanty itself, and with the heavy material for the stockyard. but humping was then a novelty, and we regarded it as a labour of love. now we know better, and, when we do get that frame-house, we are going to have it just as near to the landing-place as we can possibly stick it. you may bet your pile on that! of course, in building the shanty, we employed the usual fashion prevalent in the colony. because, when we set to work we said we were going to build a proper frame-house, _not_ a shanty. that is a name for our habitation, which has since grown up into usage. we were none of us practised carpenters; but what did that matter? we knew how to use our hands; and had so often seen houses built that we knew precisely how to do it. first of all, then, are the piles. these are of puriri wood, tough, heavy, and durable. they are rough-split sections of the great logs, some two feet thick, with squarely-sawn ends. they are fixed in the ground two or three feet apart, so as to bring their flat-sawn tops upon a uniform level. the irregularities of the ground are thus provided against, while a suitable foundation is laid. the next process is to build a scaffolding, or skeleton frame, of scantling and quartering. when that has been done, the floor is planked over, the sides weather-boarded, doors, windows, and partitions being put in according to the design of the architect. lastly, the roof is shingled, that is, covered with what our chum, o'gaygun, calls "wooden slates." our shanty is thirty feet long by ten in width. the sides are seven feet high, and the ridge-pole is double that height from the floor. there are a door and two windows, the latter having been bought at the township. there is a partition across the shanty, two rooms having originally been intended; but as this partition has a doorway without a door, and is only the height of the sides, being open above, the original intention in raising it has been lost, and it now merely serves for a convenient rack. there is no verandah on the outside of the shanty, for we regarded that as a waste of material and labour. the fireplace is an important part of the shanty. ten feet of the side opposite the door was left open, not boarded up. outside of this a sort of supplementary chamber, ten feet square, was boarded up from the ground. the roof of this little outroom slopes away _from_ that of the rest of the shanty, and at its highest point a long narrow slit is left open for a chimney. there is no flooring to this chamber, the ground being covered with stones well pounded down. its level is necessarily sunk a little below that of the shanty floor, which is raised on the piles, so the edge of the flooring forms a bench to sit on in front of the fire. the fire used simply to be built up on the stones, in the middle of this chimney-place; but, after a year or two, we imported an american stove, with its useful appliances, from auckland. our shanty is the habitation of some half-dozen of us, year out and year in. there are in the district a good many settlers of the middle-classes. men of some education, who would be entitled to the designation of "gentleman" in europe. of such sort are we. some of us are landowners, and some have no capital, being simply labourers. which is which does not matter. i shall not particularize, as each and all have the same work to do, and live in exactly the same style. there is brotherhood and equality among us, which is even extended to some who would _not_ be called by that old-world title just alluded to, anywhere at all. we do not recognize class distinctions here much. we take a man as we find him; and if he is a good, hearty, honest fellow, that is enough for us. a good many of us come from the classes in england among whom manual labour is considered low and degrading. that is, unless it is undertaken solely for amusement. out here we are navvies, day-labourers, mechanics, artisans, anything. at home, we should have to uphold the family position by grinding as clerks on a miserable pittance, or by toiling in some equally sedentary and dull routine of life. if we attempted to work there as we work here, we should be scouted and cut by all our friends. out here we have our hardships, to be sure; we have got to learn what roughing it really means. it is no child's play, that is certain. but here, an industrious man is always getting nearer and nearer to a home and a competence, won by his toil. can every one in the old country, no matter how industrious, say that of himself? is it not too often the poor-house, or the charity of friends, that is the only goal of labouring-class and middle-class alike, in overcrowded britain? does patient industry invariably lead to a better fortune for the declining years in england? we know that it does here. this is enough for one digression, though. be it understood, then, that we are not horny-handed sons of toil by birth. we were once called gentlemen, according to the prevailing notions of that caste at home. here, the very air has dissolved all those ancient prejudices, and much better do we feel for the change. only occasionally does some amusing instance of the old humbug crop up. i may light upon some such example before i lay down my pen. it is now some years since our shanty was built--seven or eight, i suppose. the edifice certainly looks older. not to put too fine a point on it, one might candidly call it ruinous, rather than otherwise. this is singular and surprising; we cannot account for it. frame-houses in this country ought to require no repairs for twenty years at least. that is the received opinion. we dogmatically assert that the house we built ourselves, with such infinite labour and trouble, is as good as any other of its size and kind. consequently, it will not want repairing for twenty years. _but it does._ it looks as old as the hills, and seems to be coming to pieces about us, though only eight years old. nevertheless, we will not forswear ourselves, we will _not_ repair our shanty till twenty years are gone! as for allowing that there could be any fault in our workmanship, that our inexperienced joinery can have been the cause of the shanty's premature decay, that, even old colonial says, is ridiculous. no, the wood was unseasoned; or, perhaps, it was over-seasoned. we admit so much, but our handicraft was certainly not to blame. the imperfections of the shanty are many and grievous. the door and windows have quarrelled desperately with their settings. on windy nights we get no sleep, as every one is engaged trying to fasten and wedge them into noiseless security. the door developed a most obstreperous and noxious habit of being blown into the middle of the house during the night, with much hideous clatter and clamour. we stopped that at last by nailing it up altogether, and making a new entrance through the side of the chimney-place. then, each particular board in the sides of the shanty has somehow warped itself out of place. we are thus enabled to view the lovely scenery lying round the place from our bunks, without the trouble of rising and going to the window. old colonial says that free ventilation is one of the great blessings of life. he thinks that the chinks in our walls are absolutely a provision of nature, since, he says, we would certainly be choked with smoke if there were none. sometimes the cattle, feeding on the clearings round the shanty, come and thrust their noses through the gaps in the boards, or stand and eye us as we are taking our meals. the saint says he has invited them to breakfast with us, on the first of april next, by which time he expects that the chinks will have gaped wide enough to permit of the passage of cattle. of course, the smoke of the fire will not go up the chimney as it ought, but floats freely about the shanty. this is good for the bacon and hams, when there are any, that depend from the rafters. it is also a wholesome thing, says old colonial, and sweetens and preserves everything. "none of your gassy, sooty coal-smoke, but the fragrant vapours of the burning forest!" so he remarked one night, when we were all blinded and choked by the volumes of smoke that rolled through the shanty. o'gaygun is often funny, but not always original. he says that the smoke floats about our habitation because it never knows which hole it ought to go out at! on rainy nights--and that is nearly every night during some three months of the year--there is perpetual misery in the shanty. one hears some choice varieties of rhetorical flowers of speech; there is a continual shifting about of beds; and often unseemly scuffling for drier places. o'gaygun says that he loves to "astthronomise" when lying comfortably in bed; but he adds, that, "a shower-bath is a quare place to sleep in." it will be surmised from this that our roof is leaky. all roofs are that, you know, in a greater or lesser degree, only ours in a greater, perhaps. those shingles _will_ come off. we are sure we put them on properly and securely. the nails must have been some inferior rotten quality, doubtless. loose shingles lie about all around the shanty. they come in useful as plates, as our crockery is generally short. in fact, o'gaygun prefers them to the usual article, and always goes outside to pick up a plate for any stranger who may happen to drop in to lunch. to use his words, "they fall aff the shanty roof loike the laves aff the tthrees!" somehow or other all these things go unremedied. it would, of course, be an admission that our work had been unsatisfactory, if we were to earnestly set about repairing the shanty, and thereby formally allow that it required such renovation. no one will dare to initiate such a serious thing. besides, it is no one man's particular business to begin the work of mending; while we are always busy, and have acquired such an amazing notion of the value of our time, that we consider the necessary repairs would not be worth the time it would take us to effect them. moreover, old colonial is a bush-philosopher, and delivers himself of moral orations in the shanty of nights. his views on some subjects are peculiar, and they are always hurled at our heads with the utmost scorn and contempt for all who may differ from them. this is his theory on repairing-- "we are pioneers; it is our special duty and purpose to make, to begin, to originate. we inherit nothing; we are ourselves the commencement of a future society, just as adam and eve were in the garden of eden. our whole time and labour must be given to the one purpose of hewing out the new path. we cannot stop to repair our faults and failures. for _us_ that would be a waste of energy and of time. it is for those who inherit the commencement we have made to do that; not for us, the pioneers. they will improve our beginnings; we must continue onward. _never mend anything_, except your manners, boys! put up with discomforts and hardships, as pioneers should!" the furniture and internal arrangements of our shanty are more simple in construction than elegant in appearance. we go in for utility, and not for show. as a central feature is the table. it is our pride and glory, that table, for it was made in auckland, and imported by us from helensville. it is the one piece of furniture we possess that displays an art superior to our own. solid, strong and large, made of stout kauri wood, it has borne a great deal of rough usage, and is capable of bearing a great deal more. besides all the customary uses to which a table may be put, this article of ours fulfils even another purpose. it comes in very handy sometimes as a bedstead. i have known two men to sleep upon it on occasions; its breadth being considerable. for a long time it went by the name of o'gaygun's four-poster, that gentleman having a predilection for sleeping on it. he is a huge, bony irishman, and somewhat restless in his sleep. accordingly, it was no unusual thing for him to roll off the table in the night, and descend upon the floor with considerable uproar. this was got over by inverting the table at night, and making him recline on the inside of it, with the legs sticking up around him. he does not like this position, though, for he says the rats run across him all night. chairs we have none, except two curious contrivances belonging to the saint and the little'un. we use empty kegs and boxes, sawn logs set up on end, and the sides of our bunks, when we sit at table. when at our ease and our tobacco, we either recline in our bunks, or sit on the edge of the floor opening into the chimney-place. the two curious contrivances alluded to are styled armchairs by their manufacturers, and somewhat remarkable objects they are. the saint's is made out of the section of a cask set up on four legs. it possesses a fifth leg, or outrigger at the back, and has cushions of flour-bags, stuffed with turkey's feathers. the owner doubtless finds it to his mind, but he has to guard against leaning to either side, or collapse is always the consequence. the other armchair is the little'un's. now, this young gentleman, though the most youthful of our party, is by no means the least. he is, in fact, six feet six inches in height, and is of broad and muscular build. his private seat is therefore of the ponderous kind. at first sight it would seem to be of immense strength, since it is made of heavy stakes, cut in the adjoining bush. these are abundantly jointed with bars and bolts of the same solid and substantial kind; the seat and back being composed of sacking. but, in spite of the apparent power displayed by this fabrication, disastrous accidents are continually happening. the little'un has no inborn genius for joinery. sometimes it has happened that, as we sat at a meal, a loud crack would be heard, some part of his throne would give way, and the little'un would disappear from view. shouts of laughter from the rest. old colonial, in high delight, would proceed to show how cleverly the little'un had adapted his armchair to his exact weight; and how it was unable to support the addition of the great load of victuals which that individual had unthinkingly stowed away. the little'un would arise silent and perplexed; and, by-and-by, we would find him deeply pondering over the manufacture of his scaffolding, and probably shaping another small tree with his axe to add to it. the most important items of the shanty's plenishing are the bunks and beds. the former are made in this way, having been constructed by the carpenter at the township. a simple folding trestle at head and foot supports two parallel bars. across these is stretched and nailed stout canvas. each of us has one of these bedsteads, which are very convenient in the limited dimensions of our shanty, for they can be folded and stacked out of the way when necessary. the beds themselves are curiously fabricated. old potato-sacks, flour-bags, and the like have been utilized. the stuffing is of fern, feathers, mounga, and sundry other matters. each of us has two or more blankets, which, i regret to say, are a trifle frowsy as a rule. o'gaygun's call for special remark. this descendant of hibernian kings is content to undergo even greater inconveniences than he necessarily need do, since he has determined to make his fortune in the shortest possible space of time. moreover, he professes the profoundest contempt for luxury and even comfort. he holds that almost anything civilized is an effeminacy, and out of place in the bush, where he considers that life ought to be lived in a stern and "natchral" way. he is intensely conservative in the primitive usages and habits of the roughest pioneering times, and emphatically condemns any innovations thereupon. he works with furious zeal and unflagging energy, and saves all the money he earns, generally investing it in gold-mine scrip, or something that rarely turns out well. in the matter of blankets and bedding, the spirit of o'gaygun's economy and self-sacrifice is apparent. his bedding is like that of all of us, except that it is less bulky--o'gaygun asserting that a soft bed is a sin. his blankets have long been worn out; in fact, they are the mere shreds and tatters of what once were blankets. bunk he has none. it would go against his principles to get one. if any of us is absent, o'gaygun borrows his bunk for the time. when all are present he contents himself with the inverted table, his especial four-poster. to see this eccentric milesian settling himself for the night is invariably a mirthful spectacle, and, it may be added, that, no one of us is more volubly humorous and laughter-loving than o'gaygun himself. reclining on the sacks which he has spread out upon the table, he proceeds to draw his tattered blankets carefully over his lengthy limbs. piece by piece he spreads the coverings. first one foot and then another, then the waist, and so on, until at last he is entirely covered. the process is troublesome, perhaps; but when it is finished o'gaygun lies as warm and comfortable as need be. why should he go to the expense of new blankets? of course there is in the shanty a litter of cans, kegs, old packing-cases, and the like, which come into use in various ways. among them are the remains of former state, in the shape of certain trunks, portmanteaus, and boxes. these receptacles held our wardrobes, when we possessed such things, and the sundry personals we brought with us from england years ago, and imported up here. we have long got over the feeling that it is imperative to hoard up clothes and things in boxes; in fact, we have no longer any clothes and things that require such disposal. but in the bush everything must serve some purpose or other; and so all these now disused trunks are turned to use. one grand old imperial is now a brine-tub, within whose dank and salt recesses masses of beef and pork are always kept stored ready for use. other cases hold sugar, salt, flour, and so on; a uniform case is now our bread-basket; each has its proper purpose, and is accomplishing its final destiny. there is a fine leather portmanteau, or what was once such, now the residence of a colley bitch and her litter of pups. mildewed and battered as it is, it still seems to recall to mind faint memories of english country-houses, carriages, valets, and other outlandish and foreign absurdities. there must be magic in that old valise, for, the other day, dandy jack was looking at the pups that live in it, and remarked their kennel. a fragment of schoolboy latin came into his head, and, to our astonishment, he murmured, "_sic transit gloria mundi!_" to avoid the possibility of any mistakes arising from an admission just made, i hereby beg to state that we do _not_ consider clothing as entirely superfluous. but we no longer regard it from any artistic or ornamental point of view; that would be to derogate from our character as bushmen. we are not over-burdened with too large a choice of clothing. such as we have is pretty much held in common, and all that is not in immediate use finds a place on the partition-rack, or the shelves upon it. we are supposed to possess _another_ change of garments apiece, but no one knows exactly how he stands in this matter, unless it be the little'un, whose superior amplitude of limb debars him from the fullest exercise of communal rights. our ordinary costume consists of flannel shirt and moleskin breeches, boots, socks, leggings, belt, and hat. in chilly and wet weather we sling a potato-sack, or some ancient apology for a coat, round our shoulders. when we visit the township, or our married neighbours, we clean ourselves as much as possible, and put on the best coat we can find in the shanty. we do not entirely dispense with such things as towels and handkerchiefs, though the use of them is limited, and substitutes are employed. razors, of course, were discarded long ago, but some antique brushes, and a small piece of cracked looking-glass, represent the toilette accessories of the shanty. our custom is to wear our clothes just as long as they will hold together, before we renew any garment by purchasing another of its kind at the township store. there is no time for mending in the bush, so we are often rather ragged. washing is a nuisance, but we feel bound to go through it sometimes; and very knowing laundrymen are we, up to every dodge for economizing elbow-grease, and yet satisfactorily cleansing the things. but we do not undertake this work too often. old colonial has laid down a law upon the subject. he says-- "frequent washing spoils clothes, and causes them to rot sooner. besides, it is unnecessary where there are no women about, and a loss of time if it trenches on more important work." dandy jack is an exception to the common sumptuary habits of the bush. in fact, he is an exceptional character altogether. place him where you will, and he always looks fit for a drawing-room. how he manages it, no one knows. many have tried to imitate him, but without success. they have expended much money, and time, and thought, in the endeavour to compete with our dandy chum, but have had, sooner or later, to give up in despair, and return to tatters and grime like the common run of folk. dandy jack always carries a small swag about with him from place to place, wherever he may temporarily pitch his tent. if he rides, it is behind his saddle; if he boats, it is beside him; if he walks, it is on his back. yet it is not only this that enables him to appear as he does. other people can carry swags as well as he. but dandy jack has a peculiar genius which other persons lack. that must be it! there is one portion of our domicile that we are accustomed to speak of with a certain fond and lingering reverence. this is the library. high up in one corner, festooned with cobwebs, are a couple of shelves. upon them are a pile of tattered newspapers and periodicals, a row of greasy volumes, mostly of the novel sort, one or two ancient account-books, and the fragmentary relics of a desk containing pens, ink, and paper. such as it is, our library is more than every establishment like ours can boast of. there is precious little time for reading or writing in the bush. the smaller half of the shanty, divided from the rest and from the chimney-place by the incomplete partition already spoken of, is termed by us the dairy. it is not in any way separate from the rest of the house, though, since we use it and sleep in it as part of the general apartment. but here, arranged on shelves all round the walls, are tin dishes and billies, a churn, a cheese-press, and the various appurtenances of a dairy. humble and primitive as are these arrangements, we do yet contrive to turn out a fair amount of butter and cheese. at such seasons as we have cows in milk, this makes a fair show to our credit every week, in the ledger of the township storekeeper, our good friend the mayor. it will be readily understood that our table equipage is not of the best or most sumptuous description. it fluctuates in extent a good deal from time to time, and always presents the spectacle of pleasing variety. we are never without appliances and substitutes of one kind or other; and members of the society now and then add to the stock such items as they severally deem desirable, or happen to pick up cheap "down the river." experience has taught us that meat is meat still, although it may be eaten direct out of frying-pan or stew-pot. it is just as good, better we think, as when served up on palissy ware or silver. knives and forks are distinctly a product of civilization; custom holds us to the use of them. but what are a sheath-knife and a wooden skewer, if not everything that is needed? those ultra-conservatives among our number, those rigid adherents to the most primitive bush-life, of course despise all the refinements of the table. plates, forks, and spoons are to them degeneracies,--things that no noble bushman needs or requires. they scorn any leanings towards luxury and ease. give _them_ a life that is totally free from the petty trammels and slavish conventionalities of the old world! at one time we were possessed of but a single plate, an iron one, which had lost its enamel, and was half eaten through by rust; we had only one fork, and that had only a prong and a half remaining. but we had our cooking-pots and billies, our sheath-knives, wooden skewers, fingers, and o'gaygun's shingle-plates. what more could any one want? and if there were not enough pannikins or mugs to hold our tea all round, there were empty preserve-cans, gallipots, and oyster-shells! we were content and happy. but this blissful state was to be rudely broken. one day, a member of our party had been down helensville way. there had been an auction of the effects of a settler, who was moving off to the south island. our chum had not been able to resist the temptation, and had invested all he was worth in an assortment of goods. it was night when he returned, and we were all in the shanty. he came up from the boat, staggering under the weight of a great kit full of crocks and such-like. of course, the excitement was great as we surveyed the heap of new treasures we had acquired. even o'gaygun was enchanted for a moment, till he remembered himself, and assumed the stern and savage bearing befitting the leader of our conservatives. his scorn was withering. "f'what might this be?" he would ask, fingering contemptuously first one thing and then another. "an' f'what do ye do wid it, at all?" he inquired, as article after article was reviewed, affecting the airs of wonderment supposed to belong to a child of nature. presently his humour changed, and he passed into the declamatory stage. "'tis a sinful exthravagance! a temptin' av providence!" he exclaimed. "plates! an' faaks! an' dishes! an' sacers! did ivver anny wan see the loike? f'what do ye expict nixt? kid gloves to work in, maybe! that ivver i'd see the day whan sich degrading emblems av the ould superstitions of sassiety was brought into the bush! ough!" so much and more the o'gaygun. but there is a sequel to the incident. some time after, when we had learnt to love and cherish these acquisitions, the little'un was one day detailed as hut-keeper. it so happened that he had our entire stock of crockery to wash up, as we generally work through the set before any one will act as scullery-maid. the little'un got through his task; he washed every plate and cup we had got; but, not finding any towel or cloth handy, he disposed the things on the stones in the chimney-place, round the stove to dry. there he left them, and went off to chop firewood, forgetting to fasten the door. directly the little'un's back was turned, a wandering pig arrived on the scene. seeing the open door, he resolved to prospect a bit, and accordingly entered the shanty. what followed can now never be precisely known, but conjecture allows us to arrive at the probable truth. the pig's first discovery was a number of comical objects, whose purpose he could not divine, stuck about among stones and gravel. he ruminated over these awhile, and at last inquisitively snouted one dish that stood alone, like a small monument. down went the strange thing and smashed. the pig thought this was singular, and was somewhat startled. still, he resolved to persevere in his investigations. he inserted his nose into a long, hollow thing that lay there, but could not get it out of the jug again. in his horror and fright at such an extraordinary accident, he plunged round and round the place; and, as he went, things fell and cracked and crashed under his feet in an awful and terrifying manner. at last he hit the thing that covered his snout against something hard, and it, too, broke. but a splinter wounded his nose, and made him squeal and fairly scream with pain and fright. at last, executing one final pirouette and gambado, while the strange things crunched and crackled at every move of his, he rushed out through the door, oversetting a man who was coming in with a bundle of firewood. it was a scene of woe when the rest of us arrived from work. concern and consternation sat on every brow, as the little'un unfolded his tale, and we surveyed the universal smash of our crockery. only o'gaygun showed signs of levity. in stentorian tones he shouted:-- "a jedgment! a jedgment on ye, bhoys! the very bastes is sint to prache aginst yer exthravagance an' lukshury! the pigs is tachin' ye as they tached the howly st. anthony av ould! o glory, glory! 'tis grand!" but his remarks were ill-timed. conservatism was out of favour just then, and the liberals were in power. the wrath of the assembly was turned upon this audacious prophet; and, excommunicated from the shanty, it was very late before humanity compelled us to let him have his supper. and i may mention that fresh pork chops were added to the bill of fare that night. chapter vi. our home-life. among the friends of colonists at home in britain, among those who talk most and know least of this land of the blest, i specify three classes. first, there are the people who talk of "roughing it" with an air of rapturous enjoyment, and a micawber-like roll of the voice, as if that were really something good, something both pleasant and praiseworthy in itself. again, there are those who shudder at the bare idea, and who conceive it, perhaps, to be a good deal worse than it really is. lastly, there are some who are quite vacuous in the matter, either because the term conveys no meaning to their minds, or because nature has made them indifferent to personal comfort and discomfort. now, in the first place, roughing it is not a nice process. there is nothing at all delightful or charming about it. plainly, it is suffering. suffering of numberless discomforts and privations, slight in themselves as a rule, though not invariably so, but certainly a serious matter in the aggregate. nor is there anything grand or glorious in the prospect of roughing it. merely in itself it does not add to a man's good in any particular way. it has to be got through in order that certain ends may be achieved. that is about the sum of it. on the other hand, there is nothing to daunt healthy young fellows in the prospect of roughing it. only those who are delicate, or who are of sensitive nature, need turn back from the possibility of it. and it must be remembered that, to succeed eventually in any path of life whatsoever, some sort of hardship, toil, and self-sacrifice must be undergone. of course, you cannot carry the drawing-room with you into the bush. that side of life, with much of the refinement belonging to it, is swept completely out of your reach. and what is of more importance still, your existence is apt to grow somewhat unintellectual. yet these are matters that are already remedying themselves. as comfort and competence are gradually achieved, and as society becomes large, so do the higher results of civilization follow. and as pioneering progresses into the more advanced stages of improvement, so do the opportunities and possibilities for mental work and culture become more generally and readily appreciable. to us, when we first came out from england, the life here seemed utterly delightful, because it was so fresh and novel. we were quite captivated with it. our existence was a perpetual holiday and picnic, to which the various difficulties and discomforts that cropped up only seemed to add more zest. but we soon got over that. we soon began to find that it did not rain rosewater here. a rude picnic prolonged day after day, year after year, soon lost its enchantment, and merged into something very like suffering. we began to yearn after those flesh-pots of egypt which we had left behind us; and there were times when we have regretted that we ever emigrated at all. now we have settled down to a calm and placid contentment with our lot. we begin to see what results are possible to us, and there are signs that our chrysalis condition is finite after all, and that some reward for our toil will be ours ere long. the days of our worst poverty and difficulty lie behind us, and better things are in store. we have been thankful for one thing. our society in this district is limited; but it comprises persons of some small amount of cultivation and intelligence. we appreciate this at its fullest, for most of us have, at one time or other, had to work in other parts of the colony, where our only associates were of the rudest and dullest mental organization. we are kindred spirits, and are happy in our way, making light of difficulties, laughing at hardships and privations, and mocking at poverty and toil. by this means we believe that we enjoy to the utmost all the good that there is in this life of ours, and that we measurably lessen the struggles and troubles that have to be gone through. and now to revert more particularly to our home life in the shanty. the insect world is a great feature in northern new zealand, both as to variety, which is extensive, and as to quantity, which is illimitable. within our shanty there are certain species which make themselves felt, smelt, or otherwise apparent to our annoyance, without taking into consideration the hosts that, as far as we are concerned, are innocuous. st. patrick is reported to have driven all the snakes out of ireland; and, according to o'gaygun, he afterwards journeyed over here, and performed the same service in these islands. the deed was done, says my informant, in order that this canaan of the south sea might be made ready for descendants of hibernian kings, when the proper time should come; and that time, he continues, was when loyal and true sons of erin should be seeking afar for a home, where the land league would cease from troubling; and the landlord be at rest! well, we have no snakes, thanks to st. patrick, but if that gentleman had only continued and completed his work, so far as to have excluded certain insect pests as well, we could have felt more beholden to him. we have them both out of doors and indoors, but it is with the invaders of our sanctuary that i have at present to deal. first, there is the mosquito. we have them here of all sorts and sizes. sometimes they come by twos and threes, and sometimes they come in swarms. they are a deadly nuisance anyway, and a most obnoxious addition to the inhabitants of our shanty. the peculiar delight of a mosquito is to arrive just at the moment when you are falling off to sleep, properly fatigued with your day's work. you hear a long, threatening boom, which finally ends with a sharp jerk, like buzz-z-z-z-z-z-zup. then you wait in anxious expectancy for what you well know will come next. it does come, a sharp prick on some part where you least expected it. you slap angrily at the place, and hurt yourself, but not the mosquito. o no! he is gone before you can satisfy your just vengeance, and he leaves a mark of his visit that will worry you for days after. wise people envelope themselves in gauze mosquito-bars, but we are not wise, and we do not. conceive the fury of o'gaygun at such an innovation, such pampering, effeminacy, luxury! who would venture to introduce a mosquito-bar into a community of which he is member? what might not be expected from this most conservative of pioneers? even old colonial says it is better that we should "harden ourselves to it." but occasionally, in the stilly watches of the night, i hear a hasty remark from his corner of the shanty, which leads me to believe that, with all the years of his mosquito experience, he is not wholly hardened yet. then there is the sandfly, another enemy of our peace. this creature is not so bad as the first, though. it is true his sting is sharp, and always draws a drop of blood, but there is no after irritation. sometimes, when sandflies abound about us, we make them contribute to our amusement in moments of leisure. bets are made, or a pool is formed, and we stretch out our closed fists together and wait. by-and-by a sandfly settles on the back of some one's hand, and proceeds to browse. once his proboscis is buried in the skin, the hand is opened, and he is caught, for he cannot withdraw his weapon from the now contracted skin. then the capturer pockets the stakes, and executes the bloodsucker. such is one of our simple pastimes. another insect foe of ours is one not wholly unknown in other parts of the world. it is the nimble flea. st. patrick is not to blame for leaving this reptile here. he is not indigenous. he was unknown to the maoris until the coming of the pakeha; but he has naturalized himself most thoroughly now. the "little stranger," as the natives playfully term him, is to be found in abundance in every maori wharè. excluded with the greatest difficulty from the best appointed houses in the colony, in the humbler residences of the bush, and in our shanty, for example, his name is legion. why this should be so, we have never troubled our heads to inquire; we simply accept the fact as it is. possibly our floor, that, in spite of a daily brooming and a weekly sluicing, is ever well carpeted with dust and mud, is one source of these pests. and, now i think of it, there is a nightly scuffling underneath the boards, which leads to the conclusion that pigs, dogs, and fowls, are harbouring among the piles beneath. every night, before turning in, we are accustomed to shake whole regiments of fleas out of our blankets. not infrequently we sprinkle the blankets with kerosene oil; and, sometimes, in hot weather find it necessary to anoint our bodies all over with the same thing. that keeps off the crawling plagues until we have time to get to sleep, and then we do not care for them. but i think we really have got hardened to the fleas. we feel the annoyance of them but little now. one of the chums, a harmless, peaceable fellow yclept "the fiend"--i know not for what particular reason--has lately invented a new game for our evening's diversion. he calls it flea-loo. after supper it is our usual custom to sit on the edge of the floor, where it abuts upon the fireplace. that part of our domicile, it will be remembered, is paved with a sort of gravel of loose stones, and, sooth to say, with a good deal of _débris_ of every sort and kind. the stove stands in the middle. as we sit there, the sensations in our legs remind us that fleas like warmth too, and that the gravelly bottom of the chimney-place is a favourite assembly-room of theirs. but they are of aspiring nature, and this fact was known to the fiend. under his advice, each man plants a stick upright in the gravel before him. then we make a pool and await the result. the fleas soon come out, and begin to crawl up the sticks; and, by-and-by, some individual of the race reaches the top of the stick. the owner of that stick takes the pool. here is another gentle and arcadian sport. and now, with considerable trepidation, and with something verging upon veritable awe, i approach a subject that i feel myself scarcely competent to handle. fraught with the deepest interest to every new-chum, and a matter of no light concern to even the oldest colonist, it is one that demands an abler and more facile pen than mine to do full justice to it. some one has boldly asserted that, throughout the infinite treasure-house of nature, every separate and single thing has its particular and well-defined purpose. without attempting to dispute a proposition so emphatically and dogmatically brought forward, it will be sufficient for me to say that men have asked in shuddering horror, and must still continue to ask, what part in the economy of creation is the sphere of duty or usefulness of that malignant thing we call the kauri-bug.[ ] we do not know whether this insect is known to naturalists or not. that is a slight matter, and not particularly pertinent to the question of its interest for us. we believe, however, that no naturalist has yet been found of sufficiently ardent temperament, and of sufficiently hardy nerves, to attempt to classify or examine this most infamous of bugs. appearances are deceptive very often; they are so in this instance. nothing could look more innocent and inoffensive than the kauri-bug, yet few insects rival it in crime. it is an oval shape, anything under and up to the size of a crown piece. it is flat, black, hard, and shiny, and resembles a cross between the english black-beetle and the woodlouse or slater. it stinks. that is all it does, but it is enough. look at it, and it is harmless enough. but tread on it, touch it, disturb it never so slightly, and instantly the whole surrounding atmosphere is permeated with a stench more infernally and awfully horrible than anything else this side of the styx! the kauri-bug inhabits dead-wood of various kinds, but chiefly does it love that of the tree from which it derives its name. it invades houses built with open joints like ours in regiments and battalions, bringing all its family and luggage with it. the best class of houses are here built in a fashion styled bug-proof, but even they cannot wholly exclude this fearful thing. it comes in hidden in the firewood, and once in the house it stops there, since no one is courageous enough to turn it out. it appears to be indifferent as to whether the house is new or old, well-built or ruinous. if the structure is of kauri timber the kauri-bug will be there, and it will put up with any other wood if kauri timber is not available. it is one of the peculiar products indigenous to northern new zealand, and it is the least attractive of all. dandy jack, who has been in north america, is my authority for stating that the celebrated odour of the skunk is mild and refreshing, compared to the unutterable loathsomeness of that of the kauri-bug. i can well believe it. how well i remember one of my first nights in the bush! it appears that one of these diabolical insects had got into my blankets. i rolled over and crushed it in my sleep. inured as i had been by circumstances to bad smells, this conquered me. i awoke perspiring from a frightful nightmare. i rushed from my bed, from the room, from the house, to escape the hideous effluvium; and--well, darkness veiled the rest! nature has in this insect achieved the very acme and culmination of repulsive villainy. fortunately she has mitigated it in two ways. the stench is volatile and soon disappears; while settler's noses get used to it in a measure. were it not for these merciful provisions, colonization in this land would be an utter impossibility for people who had olfactory nerves at all. the kauri-bug would have driven us back to england long ago. as an instance of an earnest but mistaken striving after the true colonial fertility of invention and readiness of resource, i put on record the following. the fiend once evolved from the obscurest depths of his inner consciousness a truly fearful and alarming plan. in this gentleman's somewhat feeble intellect there floats a sort of hazy reverence for a mysterious force denominated by him "kimustry." and to this occult power he appears to ascribe a magical potency, that recalls memories of the "arabian nights." we conclude that, at some time or other, the fiend had been told, or had read, that a certain delightful perfume, _eau de millefleurs_ i think it is called, was derived by chemical agency from sewage, or some equally malodorous matter. he appears to have formed the idea that any disgusting stink could be turned, by "kimustry," into a delicious perfume; and, further, that the more horrible the original stink might be, the more ravishingly delightful would be the perfume to be derived from it. one night, when the parliament of our shanty was assembled in full conclave, the fiend enunciated his views. seriously and circumstantially he put forward his proposition. this was that we were to form ourselves into a joint-stock company; that we were to cultivate and make collections of kauri-bugs; that we were to find a "kimust" who could "do the trick," and employ him; and that we were to introduce to the world, and grow rich by, the sale of a sort of celestialized essence of kauri-bugs. in proof of good faith, the fiend produced a box full of kauri-bugs that he had collected for experiment, and handed them among the midst of us. conceive our horror and consternation at this unnatural and appalling proposal. springing instantly to his feet, o'gaygun demanded that the fiend be forthwith taken out and hung from the nearest tree. but the fiend saved his life by immediately withdrawing his proposition and his bugs, humbly suing for mercy. it was then thought that our duty to humanity would necessitate our sending the unhappy fiend for incarceration in the whau lunatic asylum, where they were in want of "subjects," as old colonial significantly remarked. that point is still under debate. meanwhile, the fiend still lives, but is kept under strict surveillance. there is another of our insect enemies which must have special mention, and that is the maori blow-fly. we have flies of many sorts, house-flies and blue-bottles among them. the latter, the blue-bottles, get very big, and have an increased propensity for multiplying themselves, and that in their usual unpleasant manner. but over all the blue-bottles' old-fashioned systems the maori blow-fly soars supreme. it is a colonizer with a vengeance. it does not go to the trouble of laying eggs or nits; it carries its family about ready hatched. the blow-fly is always ready, at a moment's notice, to deposit an incredible number of lively, hungry maggots upon any desirable surface. the difficulty of keeping fresh or cooked meat, and various other provisions, will be readily appreciated. the blow-fly will cause its disagreeable offspring to take part in every meal. maggots are showered down on your very plate. a string of them may be deposited on the mouthful on your fork. the blow-fly is not particular. if you have a wound, cover it up, or the maggots will speedily be in it. the eyes of cattle and sheep are often full of them. if blankets or clothes are hung up to air in the sun, they will soon be white with living organisms; though, for want of moisture, they cannot live more than a few minutes in such a situation, luckily. there is little or nothing we can do against these foes. we get used to them, and try to forget their existence. we keep them out where possible. we salt our food, which they do not like. but we are unable to keep them down, or fight with them. even argument with a blow-fly is inadmissible. we have spiders as big as walnuts, with great hairy legs two or three inches long. we would rather encourage them, as they help to keep down the flies, and they do no harm, though not pretty to look at. there is said to be a poisonous spider in the country, but no one in the north seems to know anything about it. we regard it as a myth. other insects we have in profusion, but none that affect us like those i have specially spoken of. after all, we have no great cause for complaint. some trivial annoyance is the worst we have to suffer in this way. we have no scorpions, snakes, poisonous centipedes, or any other vile thing of that sort. i have told the worst of our indoor plagues. rats and mice we have, of course, as they swarm in the bush; but our dogs, and a cat or two, keep the shanty fairly clear of them. our commissariat is plentiful and varied enough. with slight exception we are our own providers, living almost entirely on our own produce, as farmers should. sometimes the pressure of work leads to carelessness in catering and cooking, and we are consequently reduced to short commons, for which there is no sort of need. in the worst times of poverty we should not starve. the river is always full of fish; and things must be more than bad if one could not get credit for a sack of flour or potatoes with the mayor, or with some other storekeeper on the rivers. and, after the first year, the garden ought to produce enough vegetables, potatoes, kumera, taro, pumpkins, and maize, to keep the family going, even if everything else failed them. pig-meat, in its various forms, is our staple article of food. we breed and fatten a large number of pigs on the clearings round the shanty. these we butcher in batches of six or eight, as required, and turn into salt pork, bacon, and ham. we have occasionally sent a cask or two of pork, some flitches or hams, to market; but as a rule we consume our pigs on the farm. pig-meat is most reliable as a staple. one does not tire of it so utterly as one does of either mutton or beef, if one of these be the invariable daily food. beef we rarely see in our shanty. the steers we breed are too valuable to be used by ourselves; they have to go to market. only occasionally we find it necessary to slaughter some unmanageable rusher, a cow, or bullock, and then we have beef, fresh and salted down. mutton was just as scarce for several years, as we could not afford to kill out of our small flock; and mutton is not good to salt down. now, we kill a sheep every week, sometimes a couple, as the township will take the surplus meat, and so it pays us. we keep a great number of turkeys on the clearings, as also a less number of ducks and poultry, to diminish the crickets, caterpillars, and other insect foes. these birds are now practically wild, and give us something like sport to shoot them. there are hundreds of turkeys, as they thrive amazingly, consequently we often have them at table. eggs, too, are plentiful enough, whenever any one takes the trouble to hunt up some nests. as to wild game of any sort, we get little enough of that; for we cannot spare time to go after it. sometimes we may shoot some of the splendid wild pigeons, some kakas, parrots, tuis, wild duck, teal, or the acclimatized pheasants. wild pig is nauseous eating, so that is not sought after. every now and then we go in for fish. there are schnapper, rock-cod, mullet, mackerel, and herring, or species that answer to those, to be had for very little trouble. there are also soles, which we catch on the mud-banks and shallows at night, wading by torchlight, and spearing the dazzled fish as they lie. when we make a great haul we salt, dry, or smoke the capture for lasting use. the endless oyster-beds, and other shell-fish, we rarely touch, they are not worth the time and trouble, we consider. tea is the invariable beverage at every meal, and almost the only one, too. milk is generally available in our shanty as a substitute, but somehow we stick to the tea. we drink quarts and quarts of it every day, boiling hot, and not too weak. throughout new zealand and all the australian colonies this excessive tea-drinking is the universal practice. even the aboriginal races have taken to it just as kindly. it is such a good thirst-quencher, every one says, so cooling in warm weather, and so warming in cold seasons. we had an earnest medico on a visit to us lately. he inveighs strongly against tea-drinking, which he says is the curse of these countries. i think he would preach a crusade against it if he dared; for, of course, he would have to join issue with good templars, sons of temperance, and all the fanatical anti-alcoholists. these zealous reformers are so blindly infatuated with their hatred for alcohol, that tea seems to them its natural antithesis, and they vaunt it as if it were a celestial boon. and such people are a political power out here--worse luck! the doctor declares--"tea-drinking is one of the most serious mistakes of our age and race in these new countries. it produces, first of all, a low form of chronic dyspepsia, whose effect is immediately perceived in early decay of the teeth. it often seriously affects the great organs--the liver, kidneys, stomach, and heart--predisposing them to derangement, and aiding the progress of organic mischief in them, should that arise from other causes. it affects the nerves, causing irritability and debility in them. nervous power becomes impaired, reacting with evil effect upon the ganglionic centres and the brain. hence the mind must become insidiously affected also. i am quite sure that the character of our colonists is being modified by their practice of excessive tea-drinking, and i cannot believe that the change will be for the better. i believe that we may trace to tea, gloominess, misanthropy, loss of cheerfulness, a restless energy without fixity of purpose, a sour temper, a morbid and abnormal simplicity, leading to intellectual retrogression instead of progress, and to a tendency to yield to superstitious fancies, with loss of control over reason and its advancement. what will be the future of these young tea-drowned nations?" fortunately, we only understood a fraction of this tirade, yet we trembled and shivered ever afterwards as we drank our tea. then the doctor showed us how to make sugar-beer, treacle-beer, cabbage-tree-root-beer, honey-beer, peach-cider, corn-cider, and various other drinks of a more or less unlicensed kind. so now we have usually something else to quaff besides tea. peaches we have in any quantity; and the cider they make is capital stuff. honey abounds in every hollow tree; and the mead or metheglin we compound is a fine drink. flour and meal we have to buy. by-and-by there will be a flour-mill at the township, for already some of the more forward settlers near are growing wheat. maize we do not use ourselves, except as a green vegetable. some people grind it and use the meal for cakes, but we principally turn it into pig-meat or fowl-flesh. our garden department, though not always so well managed as it might be, yet adds largely to our food supply. the principal crops are potatoes, kumera (sweet potatoes), and pumpkins; good substantial food that will keep, and, should we have a surplus, will sell. we don't bother with green vegetables; they don't pay, we think, and boiled green maize-cobs suffice us for that class of thing. but, in such seasons as it has occurred to any one to go in for more extensive gardening, we rejoice in a profusion of carrots, turnips, parsnips, onions, taro, beet-root, and sundry other things. fruit can hardly be looked on as a food; it is merely an ornamental accessory to it, in our opinion. we are great fruit-consumers, but we look on such trifles as only refreshers for odd moments, and not as having anything to do with the serious business of eating. we have pretty well all the fruits that are seen in english gardens, and besides them we have quantities of various sorts of melons and peaches, also specimens of oranges, lemons, shaddocks, grapes, loquats, quinces, pomegranates, guavas, cape gooseberries, figs, almonds, and some others. we have even bananas, which are a success in most seasons. the marvellous profusion and richness of our fruit-crops, leads to the belief that industries connected with fruit-growing will eventually be found to succeed best in the north. of course, long practice in cooking has made us tolerably proficient in the simpler processes of the art. several of us are very fair all-round cooks, but old colonial is supreme in this, as in most things. he is a veritable soyer of the bush. when he chooses to exert his skill he can turn out the most wonderful dishes. where he learnt, and how he learnt, no one can tell; but he seems to be a perfect master of cookery in every shape and form. in spite of the peculiarities of our table-service, we fare sumptuously often enough, much more so than many people who would disdain to feed without linen and dishes and plates, forks, spoons, and other things that we hold in slight regard. old colonial's name has gone abroad through the country. when any one of our neighbours goes in for the luxury of a wife, old colonial is not infrequently called in to educate her in culinary matters. he is a past master in endless wrinkles, dodges, makeshifts, and substitutes of all sorts; and has, besides, an unbounded faculty of invention that is highly satisfactory to our little commonwealth. one hot and blazing christmas-tide we invited all the married people, who lived within anything like reasonable distance, to visit our shanty--bachelor's hall, as the ladies termed it. such an entirely novel and unusual event as the visit of some of the gentler sex to our shanty was an occasion of no light moment. old colonial determined to banquet our visitors in the superbest possible style, and vast preparations were at once undertaken. two days before the expected arrival, all hands set to work in the arduous and unavailing endeavour to render the shanty approximately clean and respectable. such a turn out as that was! such an unlooked for bringing to light of things that must be nameless! we broomed and we scrubbed, we washed and we sluiced, we even tinkered and mended, we cleaned and we swore, and made our lives temporarily miserable; and yet, with all this, how grimy, and dirty, and mean, and wretched, that shanty of ours would continue to look! never had our household property been subjected to such a cleaning up as that was. gradually some order was introduced into the chaos, and at last we began to think we should convey a favourable impression after all. but our chief concern was in the matter of table equipage. one of us was sent over to the township, with orders to beg, borrow, or steal, all the crockery and table-cutlery in the place. another was dispatched on horseback through the bush somewhere else, and on the same errand, that something like proper table furniture might grace the feast. then our wardrobe underwent inspection. some one had to go over to the township and buy new shirts for all of us, with several pairs of trousers, and other things. o'gaygun stormed and wept at this outrage; but our boss was firm for the proprieties, as he estimated them. the worst of it was, we had to contemplate frightful expenditure. and more, it was humiliating that our previous condition should be made known to the mayor, who, with his wife, were to be among our guests. but, what matter? the mayor is a good fellow, and a friend; and what can be too great a sacrifice to make for england, home, and beauty!--especially the last. we all had our tasks. there was the path between the shanty and the landing-place to be put in proper condition; various muddy places in it to be covered with fascines; a certain watercourse we were in the habit of jumping to be newly-bridged, and so forth. then there was the catering. two of us were out with guns, shooting turkeys, pheasants, pigeons, fowls, and anything else that was eatable. others were butchering the fairest and fattest pig in our drove, and doing the same by a lamb. two were out on the river diligently fishing, or collecting oysters and cockles. some, too, were employed in the garden, picking fruit, gathering vegetables, and so forth, and so on. all day and all night the stove was redhot, while a supplementary fire blazed outside the shanty. between them oscillated old colonial, pipe in mouth, hirsute and unkempt, grim, grimy, and naked to the waist. his two aids, the saint and the fiend, had a bad time of it. they were his scullions, marmitons, turnspits, or whatever you like to call it. they had to keep up the supplies of firewood, to prepare the fowls and fish, and generally to do all the dirty work; and the way that old colonial "bossed" them round was an edifying sight to see. the preparations were stupendous. victuals enough had been laid in to feed a regiment, and the variety of them was endless. but old colonial, once having given way to the mania of extravagance, was determined to lay under contribution every conceivable thing, and to turn out more dishes than even an american palace hotel would put on its bill of fare. finally, it was discovered that the shanty was far too small a place for our banquet. so, on the appointed morning we were up at sunrise, and, from then till noon, we laboured at the construction of a bower; while old colonial was busy with his hot meats and confections. the bower was an open shed, running all along the shadiest side of the shanty and beyond. it was a rude erection of rough poles, latticed and thatched--maori fashion--with fern-fronds and flax. under it was _the_ table, supplemented by another of loose boards on such supports as we could fabricate; and round it planks resting on kegs and boxes made sufficient seats. hardly were our preparations finished when the first boat was descried, coming through the mangroves from the river down below, and a parasol was visible in the stern. then there was a hasty stampede down to the gully to wash; an agonized scuttle into the new shirts; and a hot and anxious assumption of restful calm. and so we welcomed the guests as they came. what a feast that was, and how it astonished everybody! and such a party as our shanty had never witnessed before! for curiosity brought half a dozen ladies--all there were in the district--and fully a score of masculine friends honoured our establishment with their presence. it is not to be supposed, of course, that all our neighbours inhabit rude shanties like ours. some are further forward, or had more capital at the start; and men do not bring wives into the bush until they can manage to furnish forth a decently comfortable house for them. our married friends live in respectable comfort. still, the ladies, living in the bush, get to know its more primitive ways, though they may not experience them themselves. so, our domestic arrangements, though made the occasion for a great deal of banter and fun, were neither unexpected nor novel to our lady visitors. but the banquet that was provided for them made them open their eyes indeed. it was something altogether new to the bush. such a miracle of catering! such marvellous unheard of cookery! it surpassed anything any one of them had ever seen before, anywhere. the table was covered with white linen, borrowed at the township, and all the equipage we could muster was displayed upon it. plates, forks, spoons, and knives, there were in plenty; but we had not been able to collect enough dishes and bowls for the profusion of viands old colonial had provided. some parts of the service were therefore peculiar, and caused much addition to the merriment. there was always such incongruity between the excellence of the comestible and the barbaric quaintness of the receptacle that happened to contain it. soups in billies, turkeys in milk-pans, salads in gourd-rinds, custards in cow-bells, jellies in sardine-boxes, plum-pudding in a kerosene case, vegetables, fruits, and cakes in kits of plaited flax; anything and everything was utilized that possibly could be. high enthroned upon a pile of potato sacks, old colonial presided over the feast he had created; while, as vice, sat o'gaygun, his barbaric conservatism laid aside for the nonce in favour of grace and gallantry. what glorious fun we had! what a flow of wit beneath the august influence of ladies' smiles! and we were cool in our ferny bower, out of the strong hot sunshine. and in the intervals of eating and drinking, we could look about us on the splendid perspective of bush and river, across the clearings, where the air shimmered in the heat, where the crickets whistled and hummed, and where the cattle were lazily lying among the stumps. it was a magnificent picnic, so everybody declared. there never was anything to match it in all new zealand! i can fancy, that in days to come, when the full tide of civilization has overtaken this fair country, some of those ladies will be sitting in boudoirs and drawing-rooms talking to their children; and they will tell them of the early pioneering days. and one of their best-remembered stories will be that of the christmas-time, when they were banqueted by old colonial and his chums at our shanty in the bush. to a certain extent we are of musical tastes, and, though our time for practice is limited to an occasional half-hour of an evening, we consider ourselves no mean instrumentalists, and sometimes give public performances, as will appear hereafter. we have two flutes, a clarionet, a cornet, and a french horn, often supplemented by two violins and a concertina. old colonial does not play, neither does o'gaygun. they fiercely decline to add to what they term the beastly uproar. if we have a failing, it is to be found in an inability to hang together in our play, and an incapacity for comprehending the said fact. set either instrumentalist by himself, and he will manage to stumble through a tune; but put the whole orchestra together, and the result usually falls short of what should be harmony. the hornist is our feeblest musician. he has not yet succeeded in eliciting more than two notes and a half out of his instrument, and these he lets off in spasmodic puffs, governed by a curious notion of the proper places for them to fit into the general performance. the flutes are a little unsteady and unreliable; the clarionet always squeaks in pathetic parts; and the cornet imagines that loudness is the chief thing to be desired. there was a newly-married couple recently established a few miles away up the river. of course, they were received in the district with great acclamation, when they first came up here, after being tied up in auckland. bonfires blazed on the ranges, guns were fired, and a procession of boats escorted theirs home. as a strictly bachelor community, we felt some hesitation about going to call and congratulate the couple. this was owing to our own shyness and uncouthness, you understand, not to any disfavour with which we looked upon matrimony as an abstract thing. for we were previously unacquainted with the bride. however, some demon prompted us to give them a midnight serenade. by dint of tremendous practice, we had mastered, as we thought, those three famous melodies, "home, sweet home," "juanita," and "god save the queen." the orchestra was equal to _them_, anyhow, we considered. neither of our two unmusical associates cared to be left out of the proposed excursion, so a drum was manufactured for old colonial, by stretching a sheepskin over the open ends of a cask; o'gaygun was found incompetent to play on any other instrument but the ancient comb and piece of paper of his happy youth. then we started, rowing up the river, and anchoring silently off the beach opposite our victim's residence, one night soon after their arrival. the moon was at the full, throwing sombre shadows down from the woods upon the gleaming water, and making the splendid scenery of the river mysterious and romantic. the husband and wife were out on their verandah, enjoying the calm beauty of the night, and sentimentalizing, as newly-married couples will. suddenly, from the river below them, rises the melancholy and discordant clamour of our performance. quickly, the voices of the night awake in earnest protest against it. roosting shags and waterfowl fly screaming away. in the swamp a bittern booms; and strange wailing cries come from the depths of the bush. on the farm dogs bark energetically, cattle bellow, horses neigh, sheep bleat, pigs grunt, ducks quack, and turkeys gobble. frightful is the din that goes echoing among the woods. and then the outraged bridegroom gets out his gun, and commences rapid file-firing in our direction. but nothing daunts us, or makes us flinch from our fell purpose. perspiring from every pore, we labour manfully on to the bitter end. cornet and clarionet strive for the mastery, the flutes tootle along in the rear, the violins screech and squeal, the horn brays with force and fury, and old colonial pounds at his drum as if he were driving piles. not until the last notes of "god save the queen" have been duly murdered do we cease; then, breathless and exhausted, we row down river on our homeward way, rejoicing in the performance of a meritorious deed. footnotes: [footnote : a species of _blatta_, or cockroach, called by entomologists _polyzosteria novæ zealandiæ_.] chapter vii. our pioneer farm. i. of course, all farms are not the same, even in the north. nevertheless, there is a good deal of similarity in the work that has to be got through at the outset. the modifications in it are various, consisting in the character of the land, the amount of capital available, the labour employed, and so forth. but, generally speaking, most settlers must go through pretty much what we did before they get the wilderness reclaimed into an orderly farm. people who commence with plenty of capital have naturally a great advantage. they can employ more labourers, and get the first operations over more quickly. but, more than that, they are not hampered by the necessity of making a living as they go along. they can afford to wait until the farm is in thorough working order before they expect any returns from it. not many of this class have settled in the north. when a man has large capital, his chief idea is sheep or cattle. and he is not impressed with the notion of making a home, but with the desire to make a great pot. so, if he comes to new zealand, he goes south as a general thing, and leases a vast run of natural pasturage. in ten or twenty years he has made his pile, and gives up farming altogether. then he either goes home, or settles down in one of our cities. we were circumstanced very differently from that. when we made up our minds to work for ourselves, instead of acting as labourers to others, we were not blessed with much capital. our joint purse contained just enough, as we calculated, and it did not contain more. but our notion was to make ourselves a comfortable home, primarily, though, of course, we had our golden dreams as well. the bulk of the land in the north island belongs to the maori tribes, who sell tracts of it to government or private individuals occasionally. in the south island all the waste land is the property of the crown--a nice little estate of about the size of england and wales. most of the kaipara district belonged to the ngatewhatua tribe when we came on the scene; and the early settlers bought their stations from them. we had our korero with the chiefs, and arranged to purchase a block, or section of a block rather, on the pahi. we selected our location--from such a creek to such a creek, and back from the river as far as such and such a range. we offered ten shillings an acre for it, the then market-price. the chief said, "kapai!" and so that was settled. then we got up the government surveyor for the district, and to it we went with billhook and axe, theodolite and chain, fixing the boundaries and dimensions of our slice of forest. said the surveyor, after plotting and planning and making a map, "there you are! two thousand and twenty-one acres, two roods and a half!" "right," said we; and proceeded to the next business. a land court was held by the crown official at helensville. thither proceed the ngatewhatua chiefs, with the surveys and maps of the section we had chosen. they make out their claim to the land, according to established usage, and receive a crown grant as a legal title. this is then properly transferred to us, in lieu of our cheque. various documents are signed and registered, and we stand the proud possessors of so much soil and timber; while the maoris make tracks straight to the hotel and store, with much rejoicing. not that we paid in full at the time. such a simple arrangement would not have suited our pockets, any more than it would have suited the maori idea of a bargain. a part of the land was paid for and bought outright, the rest was to be paid off in certain terms of years, or sooner, if we liked. meanwhile, we were to pay interest on the sums remaining due, which was actually a sort of rent for the balance of the estate. as a concession on their side, the maoris gave us the right of running cattle free over the unpaid-for acres. and as there were no fences, of course, this really meant that we might run our cattle over the whole country side, which was practically what we paid the interest or rent for. then we entered into possession, and built the shanty. but observe what we had to do in the forthcoming years. we had to get a living, first. we had to pay the annual sum agreed on as a sort of rent, second. we had to provide for the purchase of implements, sundry accessories, and stock, third. lastly, we had to lay by to meet the future large payments for the land, which would make us proprietors of the whole of it, and, of course, annul the annual rent. perhaps it will be better understood now why we live in a shanty, and why the furniture of it is so unique in quality and restricted in quantity. how we have got on so well is a marvel, and shows what hard work will do in this country. a thousand pounds would have bought our station outright. but we had not a thousand pounds among us, or anything like it; and we had to reserve money to live on for the first year, to buy our axes and spades and milk-pans, and to buy the nucleus of our future herds and flocks and droves. we have done all we had to do, and now we are beginning to see that our joint work during all these years will eventually produce for us homes and comfort. it is a hard and difficult thing to make money without capital to start with. it is as hard a thing to do in the colonies as it is at home, though people at home are apt to think differently. and it is always the early years of toil that are the worst. money is like an apple-tree. at first it grows but slowly, and there is no fruit. then there come little scanty crops, increasing year by year, until at length the tree attains maturity. then there are full crops, and you realize a handsome profit on your planting. our station--or, as you may choose to term it, our estate, selection, place, farm, location, homestead, or run--may be reckoned a choice bit of land. the soil is not all of one character, it seldom is so on any one farm in this country, but it is all good class. most of it is a rich black humus, resting on clay and mountain limestone. in configuration it is of the roughest, like the country generally, being an abrupt succession of ranges, gullies, and basins, in every variety of form and size. when we took possession, nearly every inch of the property was covered with what is termed light bush. it might have been a slice out of the new forest. the light bush is just as dense a wood of small trees, twenty to fifty feet in height, shrubs, creepers and undergrowth, as can well be conceived of. where the thicket is thinner the trees are larger, and the smaller they are the denser the covert. if you wish to journey through this light bush, where there is no semblance of a track, it will take you perhaps two hours to make a single mile, so thick is it. to ride through it is, of course, impossible, unless a track has been cut. two or three miles back from the river--at our back, or behind us, as we say--the heavy bush begins. this is the primeval forest: endless miles of enormous timber-trees, girthing ten feet, twenty feet, thirty feet, forty feet, and even more, and of startling height. people cannot make farms out of that; at least, not all at once. the timber is slowly encroached upon to feed the saw-mills. then the land so denuded can be done something with. the stumps can be fired and left to rot, which they do in about twelve or fifteen years, or they can be stubbed up with infinite labour, or blown out with dynamite, the quickest and least expensive way. we have not much big timber on our section. here and there are groves of larger trees amidst the jungle, and most of this sort we shall leave standing, for it is not good to totally clear a large farm. patches of bush are wanted for shade, for cover, and to keep up the supply of moisture. settlers before us, who have inconsiderately made a clean sweep of everything, have found out their error, and are now planting out groves. but when you get a slice out of miles and miles of pathless woods, and have to hew your future farm out of them, you are apt to forget the more distant future, and go at everything before you with axe and fire. you want to see grass-paddocks and plough-lands. time enough to think of planting again, or of saving bits of bush. our first operation was to clear some twenty acres or so, as a primary clearing, wherein our shanty might be built, and a little grass provided to keep the milch-cows near home. we had two or three weeks chopping, then, in the height of the dry season, managed a successful burn of the fallen stuff, letting the fire run among the standing bush where it would, and which it would not to any great extent, as the undergrowth always keeps fresh on such rich soil. thus we had a small clearing ready to be sown with grass-seed directly the rains should come. and then we were occupied with the erection of the shanty, as already described. after that we had our first stockyard to set up. it is a simple enclosure, measuring a chain or two square; but had to be made of great strength, in view of the contingency of unruly mobs of charging cattle. to procure material we went six or eight miles off, to a creek that ran through heavy bush. there we felled certain giant puriri trees, cut them into lengths, and split them up with wedges into posts and rails. puriri timber is terribly tough stuff to work. it is harder than oak, and very heavy, too, so that transporting it is serious toil. we groaned over this job, and spoilt numerous axes; but we did it. terrible work it was getting this material on to the ground. after we had finished cutting, and had split out all the posts and rails we wanted, it was comparatively easy work to punt the stuff into our own water. but then the carrying up from the landing-place, a quarter-mile or so, to the spot selected for the stockyard, was a labour indeed. it took six of us to lift one of the posts, so solid were they, and so heavy the timber. old colonial said-- "we are giving over work, and taking to humping." this is a bit of pleasantry that only those who have tried it can understand, for humping timber is one of the most undesirable occupations possible; as many a galled shoulder and aching back could testify. puriri timber is the strongest and most durable of any in the country. we knew that kauri would give us less work, but the result would not be so lasting or satisfactory. therefore, we elected to go in for puriri. the posts stand about eight feet above ground, and are sunk some three or four into it. their average thickness will be from nine inches to a foot. they carry five rails almost as substantial as the posts, both being of roughly split timber. the rails are fixed into holes, bored and wedged in the posts. slip-panels form an entrance. such was our first stockyard--a substantial, thoroughly secure, and cattle-proof enclosure. and it is as good now as it was eight years ago. for a long time it served all our needs; but, subsequently, we have put up other yards, a milking-shed with bails, sheep-pens and hog-pens, all constructed of rough material, cut by ourselves in the bush. having now got our habitation and our stockyard completed, and it being well on in the wet season, with the newly-sown grass springing green over the charred surface of the clearing, obviously it was time to introduce stock. our agent in auckland bought for us a dozen good, young cows and a bull, which were despatched to us on a small schooner. she brought them up the river; and then they were dumped into the water, and swum ashore. the whole lot cost us about a hundred pounds, freight and other charges included, the cows being four or five pounds apiece, and the bull forty, he being a well-bred shorthorn from the napier herd. the cows were belled, and the whole little herd turned loose in the bush. but the cows were tame, some of them being in milk, and we had not much trouble in keeping them near home. the bull would not wander far from the cows, and we drove them up and yarded them, with a good feed of fresh koraka, every now and then. besides the cattle we introduced some pigs, fowls, and a dog or two. before long we were milking daily, and beginning to turn out butter and cheese; for the cows throve on the plenteous feed in the bush. although the wet season is not the usual time for felling bush, yet we went to work at that at once. we were anxious to get as much grass as we could the first year, so that we might get some sheep on it. for, though cattle find plenty of feed in the bush--leafage, and shoots of trees--sheep must be provided with grass, and there is no grass suitable for pasturage indigenous to _northern_ new zealand. accordingly, we worked steadily at bush-falling right along to the end of the succeeding summer; and when the next wet season came round again, we were able to contemplate a hundred and forty acres sown down with grass. axe-work was our principal daily toil, and it is a somewhat different thing as practised here, to what the english woodman has to do. a bushman's work is severe and energetic, altogether in contrast with the lazy stop-and-rest methods of too many labourers at home. it is a fierce but steady and continuous onslaught upon the woods. everything must fall before the axe, and everything does fall. once i was watching the prostration of a worcestershire oak. it was a tree that might have had some twelve feet of girth. three men and a boy were employed at it, armed with ropes and pulleys, wedges, saws, and all sorts of implements, besides axes; and it was two days and a half before they got the tree to earth. if a single bushman could not have knocked that tree over before dinner-time, he would not have been worth wages in this country; i am sure of that. of course, it is an understood thing that england cannot turn out an axe. if you want an axe that is really good for anything, you must go to america for it. here, in the bush, all our tools come from the land of the stars and stripes. why it should be so ask english cutlers. english tools and cutlery of all sorts cannot find a sale here; for bitter experience has taught us what inferior and unreliable goods they are. american things never fail us. we do not buy them because they are cheaper, but because they are better. they are exactly what we want, and of sterling quality. now, sheffield can turn out the best hardware in the world, no one can deny that. then, why do we not get some of it out here? some settlers, who have furnished themselves in sheffield itself, can show tools of finer make than the american ones. but all the cutlery that we see anything of in the stores, if it be english, is thoroughly worthless. why will english traders continue to suppose that any rubbish is good enough for the colonies? we are afraid to buy english implements and tools out here; and every experienced colonist prefers to trust america. our patriotism is humiliated, but we cannot afford to be cheated. surely, trade interests must suffer in the long run, by the pertinacity with which english traders send inferior goods to the colonies. in felling bush, or "falling" it, as we say here, advantage is taken of the lay of the land. to make the burn which is to follow a good one, the stuff must all lie in the same direction. the tops of the felled trees should point downhill as much as possible. the trees are gashed at about three feet from the ground. this saves the bushman's back, obviating the necessity of his stooping, and, moreover, allows him to get through more work. also, in after years, when the stumps are rotten, they are more easily pulled out of the ground. by a simple disposition of the direction in which the gashes are cut, the bushman is able to bring down his tree to whichever side he wishes. a bill-hook, or slasher, supplements the axe, for the purpose of clearing all the undergrowth. nothing is left standing above waist-height. the usual time for bush-falling is the dry season, that is to say, from august till march, in which last month the burn is usually accomplished. by that time the fallen stuff has been pretty well dried in the summer sun, and will burn clean. fires are started along the bottoms on days when the wind is favourable. some experience is needful to ensure a good burn. should the burn be a bad one, after work is much increased, and wages consequently spoilt. after the burn comes the logging, that is, the collection into heaps of such _débris_ as lies about unburnt, and the final burning of these heaps. during april and may the rains begin; and then grass seed is sown broadcast over the charred expanse. it soon sprouts up, and in a couple of months there will begin to be some pasturage. before next season a good strong turf ought to have formed among the stumps. every farmer has his own particular ideas as to the kinds of seed to use. we used a mixture of poa pratensis, timothy, and dutch clover, and have abundant reason to be satisfied with the result. when bush-falling is performed by hired labour, it usually goes by contract. the bushman agrees to fall, fire, and log a specified tract, at a fixed price per acre. such bush as ours would go at thirty shillings to three pounds an acre, according to the size of the trees on the average. a bushman reckons to earn five shillings a day, taking one day with another, so he ought to knock down an acre of stuff in from five to ten days. thirty or forty acres represent one man's work for the season. a good deal of judgment is required in making these contracts. where there is a great deal of supple-jack, or tawhera scrub, the work may get on as slowly as if the trees were comparatively large. and there is a good deal of luck in the burn, for if it be a bad one there may be weeks of logging afterwards. sometimes, at the end of the season, a bushman may find that his contract has not paid him much more than the worth of his tucker during the time; or, on the other hand, he may find he has made ten shillings a day clear out. new-chums often find a job of bush-falling is the first thing they can get hold of, and a bitter apprenticeship it is. their aching backs and blistered hands convey a very real notion of what hard work and manual labour means. and this goes wearily on day after day, while, very likely, they find they are not earning a shilling a day, do all they may. the ordinary english agricultural labourer, transplanted here, does not seem to do better at this work at the start than the "young gentleman." his class take a lot of teaching, and anything new appears to be a tremendous difficulty to them. moreover, they have to learn the meaning of an antipodean ganger's frequent cry, "double up, there! double up!" and they do not like to work so hard that every now and then a stop must be made to wring out the dripping shirt. worst of all, there is seldom any beer in the bush! after we had got some grass clearings, the next thing to do was to fence them in. a very necessary thing that; first, to keep the sheep in--and, second, to keep the wild pigs out. two most important reasons, besides other lesser ones. fencing of many kinds has been tried in the colony, the question of relative cost under different circumstances mainly influencing settlers in their choice. i need only mention four varieties as being general in the north. they are post-and-rail, wire, wattle, and stake. the first is undoubtedly the best of any, but the labour of cutting, splitting, getting on the ground, and setting up is so great, that the cost of such a fence is very heavy. it may cost two to five pounds a chain, or more; but it should require no repairs for ten or twelve years, and is proof against cattle, sheep, or pigs. the materials, whether kauri, totara, or other timber, is much the same as that we used for our stockyard, only, of course, it is not needed anything like so strong. but it is the same sort of rough stuff, procured in the same way. as to wire fences, they are useful enough for keeping sheep in, and come in well for inner fences, being sufficiently cheap and easily set up. but they will not keep out wild pigs, and cattle, accustomed to force their way through the thickets of the bush, mistake wire fences for mere supple-jack, and walk straight through them. wattles interlaced on stakes make first-rate protection, but they can only be used with economy when the supply of them is close handy. the fence most commonly seen on new farms, and that may fairly be termed the pioneer's mainstay, is a simple one of stakes. this is the kind we went in for, as we had the material for it in any quantity upon our own land. the stakes are the trunks of young trees, either whole or split. they are about four inches diameter at the thickest end, and are set up at three or four inches apart. the stakes are connected by one or more battens nailed along them, or by wires. they are cut eight or nine feet in length, so as to allow of a good six feet above ground when set up. red, black, and white birch are used, also red and white ti-tree, the last variety being most esteemed, as it is more durable. a stake-fence ought to be proof against both pigs and cattle, and is reckoned to be good for seven years; if of white ti-tree it will last ten or twelve years. it will cost, in labour, from eight shillings a chain and upwards, according to the distance the cut stakes have to be moved. our work in fencing was as follows. the first clearing we set about enclosing was on the side of a range, and included forty or fifty acres. if this were a square there would be some eighty chains or a mile of fencing required to enclose it. practically, there were nearer a hundred chains of boundary. each chain required from a hundred to a hundred and thirty stakes. this is about the number that one of us could cut in the day, and bring out of the adjoining bush on to the line. for we got our material in the standing bush close to the clearing, working along the edge of the woods, and seldom having to go further than five chains away from the edge of the clearing to find suitable trees. two or three men were engaged in pointing the stakes, and dumping and malleting them into the ground. sometimes they would put up four or five chains in the day, sometimes only one; it depended on the nature of the ground. when the weather was wet, and the ground soft, the work was naturally lighter. after the stakes were set up we had to batten them together. we bought several boatloads of battens--rough outside boards split up, and the like--for next to nothing, at the wairoa saw-mills, and got them down to our place. then we had to hump them up to the ground; no light work, for a load had to be carried often nearly a mile uphill. we purchased a keg or two of nails, and finally fixed up the fence. we were proud of our clearings when they were new, and we are proud of them still. but they would look strange sort of paddocks to an english farmer's eye. the ground is all hills and hollows, lying on the sides of ranges, or stretching across the gullies. amidst the grass is a dazzling perspective of black and white stumps, looking like a crop of tombstones, seen endways; and round the whole careers, uphill and down dale, the rough, barbarous, uncouth-looking stake fence. never mind! off that gaunt and unseemly tract has come many a good bale of wool, many a fair keg of butter, or portly cheese. what have we to do with trim appearances? in the course of fencing operations, the little'un developed a wonderful aptitude for the manufacture of gates. whether he had learnt the whole art of carpentry from his practice upon a certain chair, elsewhere described, i do not know; but his gates are a marvel of ingenuity, and really very capital contrivances. only, he is so vain of his performance, that he wishes to put a gate about every hundred yards. a constant warfare is waged upon this point, between him and old colonial, who does not seem to approve of gates at all. in subsequent years we have done something towards making live-fences. we have dug ditches and banks within some of the fences, planting them with thorn, acacia, vermont damson, osage orange, and other hedge material. we have now some very good and sightly hedges. luckily, we never tried whins, or furze, as here called. this is a vile thing. it makes a splendid hedge, but it spreads across the clearing and ruins the grass; and it is the worst of weeds to eradicate. whins and thistles are the only bad things that bonnie scotland has sent out here. they, and sweetbriar, are given to spreading wherever they go. in some localities in the north there are clearings submerged under whins or sweetbriar, and there are forests of thistles, which march onward and devour all before them. whins you cannot clear, unless by toil inadequate to the present value of land. but thistles can be effectually burnt, i believe. at any rate, they die out after a term of years, and, it is said, leave the land sweet and clean. so they are, perhaps, not an unmixed curse. we think that thorn makes the best hedge. but there are objections to it. it is not easily or quickly reared, and it straggles on light soils; moreover, it is always needing attention. we have no time to spare for clipping and laying and all that sort of thing. labour has to be severely economized on pioneer farms. of course, all the time these things were proceeding, we were simultaneously busied with other matters. chiefly were we providing for our own immediate sustenance. the pigs were bred and well looked after, fattened, butchered, made into pork, or cured. poultry was also carefully regarded, especially the turkeys, which are so valuable in keeping down crickets, and make such an important addition to the commissariat. then there was the garden. we have several gardens at present, as we follow the custom of enclosing any particularly choice bit of land, and using it for our next year's crop of potatoes, kumera, or maize. some of these enclosures are afterwards turned into the general grass, or are converted into orchards, and so on. the first garden we made was set apart for the purpose directly after the shanty was finished, and certain of our party were engaged exclusively upon it for the time being. it comprehended two or three acres on the shoulder of a low range, and was once the site of a maori kainga, or village. hence, the scrub that covered it was not of large growth, while the soil is exceptionally loose and rich, consisting of black mould largely intermixed with shells. this space we cleared and fenced in. then we went to work with spade and pickaxe and mattock. we cut drains through the garden, and laid it off into sections. these were planted with potatoes, kumera, melons, pumpkins, onions, and maize. digging was, of course, a hard job, the ground being full of roots. we threw out these as we dug, or left them; it does not matter much, for as long as we just covered the seeds anyhow, the rest was of small concern. after a crop or two the ground gets into better condition, and what we put in thrives just as well among the stumps as not. round the sides of the garden we planted peach-stones, which have now developed into an avenue of fine trees. we also set cuttings of fig-trees, apples, pears, loquats, and oranges, obtained from some neighbour. thus, before we had been a year on the land, we had gone a good way towards providing the bulk of our food-supply for the future. we have since seldom had to buy anything but our flour, tea, sugar, salt and tobacco, so far as important and absolutely needful items are concerned. and now that i have recorded the manner of our start, i may go on to speak of things as they are, seven or eight years later. chapter viii. our pioneer farm. ii. we have a large farm, and a great deal of work to get through, but then there are eight or nine of us to share in the first and to do the latter; yet we find that we never have time to do all that we ought to do, and all that we want to do. every year brings with it an increasing amount of labour, just to keep things going as they are, consequently the time for enlarging the farm becomes more and more limited. thus it is, that though we cleared and grassed a hundred and forty acres in our first year, yet we have now only five or six hundred acres of grass in our eighth. hampered as we were by the lack of capital, and by the necessity of scraping and pinching to meet those payments spoken of, it is little wonder that we seem as poor and pauperized as we were at the commencement. but we are by no means really so. we are actually in very good circumstances. our farm is immensely increased in value, and is now beginning to pay substantially. another year will see the sum completed, which will close the purchase of the land. after that, we shall have means to make outlays of sundry kinds, be able to build a fine house, go in for marriage. who knows what else? the grass on our clearings is rich and abundant, and, owing to the nature of the soil, keeps fresh and green all through the dry season, when other districts are crying out against the drought. in spite of the standing stumps, the rough ground, and the mere surface-sowing, our grass will carry four sheep per acre all the year round; some of it more. it is not all fenced in--that would be too much to expect--but most of it is; and what is not gives the milch cows plenty of feed, and so keeps them from wandering off. the clearings are not all in one piece. they are divided off into paddocks, and there is a good deal of standing bush among them, some of which will eventually come down, and some of which will be left. we have now seven or eight hundred head of sheep. we had to buy our original store flock on credit, but the increase and wool has enabled us to pay that off long since. similarly, grass-seed, some stock, and other things were bought on credit, which has since been liquidated. what we have is our own. we have had years of incessant toil, the hardest possible work, with plenty of food, but little comfort and no holidays to speak of. two or three years more of it, and then we shall be in a condition to really enjoy the prosperity we have laboured for. except at shearing and lambing seasons, our lincolns and leicesters give us but little trouble. we did try the merino breed, but they broke through the fence and ran away into the bush, where we occasionally see traces of them, and have once or twice caught one and turned it into mutton. shearing is a great business, but we are all accomplished hands at it now, and our bales are larger every year as the flock increases. wool is ready money here, being an article that can always be negotiated at once with the auckland dealers. our wool is reckoned of even better quality than that grown on the great sheepwalks of canterbury and otago. during a great part of the year we are milking ten to twenty cows daily, and, in spite of the seeming inefficiency of our dairy arrangements, we send a goodly store of butter and cheese to the township, whence it goes to auckland and elsewhere. we fatten pigs, too, on skim-milk, maize, pumpkins, and peaches grown by ourselves. a score or two are usually to be seen on the clearings round the shanty. we are able butchers and curers; and old colonial excels in the manufacture of brawn, sausages, collared head, and the like. most of the pig-meat is consumed by ourselves. in one form or other it is our staple food. but occasionally we sell a barrel of pork, or some flitches and hams, to such local buyers as the bushmen employed at the saw-mills. dandy jack talks of introducing angora goats. i do not know exactly why, but he appears to think the project a good one. he has long ago given up mere coaching. in fact, people began to have doubts about entrusting themselves to his driving, though i hesitate to record such a disagreeable matter. he joined our society some years ago, though he is not always with us, gravitating invariably towards all the races, horse and cattle fairs of the country. but he has set up as a horse breeder and trainer, keeping his stud on our clearings, and thus adding another industry to the various others of our pioneer farm. this is a good thing for us, as jack's horses come in very usefully sometimes, for carrying or dragging purposes. our largest source of income just at present is the herd. first there is the dairy business, which i have already spoken of. the milch cows keep on the clearings, or near to them, and soon get tame enough to come up when called. they are brought to the bails morning and evening, fastened up, and given a feed of koraka. all cattle are very fond of the leaves of the koraka-tree, and it is used to entice them with when that is required. of course, it will be understood that, as there is no cold winter here, we do not require to house our cattle at any season, nor do we need to provide them with hay or root food. they find their own living all the year round, either in the bush or on the clearings, and the most we do is to give them maize-stalks when we have some. the bulk of the herd, numbering now upwards of two hundred head, runs free in the bush. there is no native grass, as i have before mentioned, and the feed is tree leafage. this suits the cattle, and they fatten well upon it, though not turning out very large beasts. but the pasture-fed cattle of the south are not in prime condition for market during the dry-season. our bush-raised beasts are, and this gives us a pull. the best part of one man's time is always taken up with stock duty. to keep the cattle from becoming unmanageably wild, and from getting too far away, they must be constantly driven up to the yards, and accustomed to discipline. it is our practice to give every beast a night in the yard at least once in six weeks. and it is also essentially necessary to keep an eye on calving cows, for if the calf is not brought up at once, branded, and so forth, it will be sure to turn out wild and a rusher, and then it would have to be shot at once, to prevent its infecting other beasts. of course, we are all stockmen more or less; but old colonial and the saint are the chief hands at this work. the latter gentleman did not receive his appellation, as might be supposed, from any relations which his character bore to it. he was intended for the church at one time; but, perhaps, the church is to be congratulated in that it did not receive him. there is nothing mild or milk-and-watery about our saint, though he has his own peculiar moral code, and is strictly scrupulous in its observance. the saint is the most elaborate swearer i ever heard. that is, when he is driving cattle. at other times he most conscientiously refrains from everything but abstract rectitude of speech. he says that you cannot drive cattle without swearing; that they understand you so far, and never think you are in earnest till they hear an oath. whip and dogs and roaring will not do without some good hearty swearing, too. the saint says so, and he ought to know. he declares that he could never bring up cattle unless he swore at them. i think i have heard something similar from other drovers. perhaps some naturalist will be good enough to explain this extraordinary characteristic of cattle. the cattle associate themselves into mobs. each such mob is headed by an old bell-cow, sometimes by two or three. bulls, of which we have now two, are sometimes with one mob and sometimes with another. individual beasts, belonging to neighbours of ours, are to be found running with certain mobs belonging to us, and the reverse is also the case. we have to look after the strange beasts with our own, and our neighbours do the same by us. at musters, or when drafting for market, we make the necessary exchanges. but we have only two neighbours on this side the river who run cattle in the bush; one lives six miles off, and the other fifteen. we keep a stock-book, in which every beast is entered. each cow receives a name when she becomes a mother, and her offspring are known by numbers. steers are never named. they have only four years of it, being sent off to market at the end of that time. then a line is drawn through the "beauty's third," or "rosebud's fourth," which has designated their individuality in the stock-book; and the price they have fetched is entered opposite. the various mobs are known by the names of the old cows that lead them. thus, we speak of "white star's mob," or "redspot's mob." it is the stockman's duty to know each individual beast, and also to know the members that compose each mob. he has to go out with the dogs almost every day to hunt up some mob or other. our bush is much too dense to admit of riding, except along certain narrow tracks, partly natural and partly cut with the axe, which serve as bridle-roads, and keep open communication with distant settlements or settlers' places. so the member of our fraternity who happens to be stockman has to go cattle-hunting afoot. cattle-hunting, as we term this employment, has a certain charm and air of sporting about it; but it is by no means light work, especially in warm weather. the stockman has to travel through pathless woods all the time, and has an area of twenty to thirty miles round our place in which to search for his cattle. he takes some fixed route to start with, making for some distant locality, where experience has taught him such and such a mob are likely to be feeding. on his way he takes note of any cattle he may come across, marks the gullies they are in, and thus, having knowledge of the ways of cattle, is able to guess within a mile or two where those mobs are likely to be found when wanted. moreover, a good stockman gets to be experienced in tracking. he reads "sign" in every broken bough or trampled water-hole, and this guides him in finding the mob he wants. we know the bush around us pretty well by this time, about as well, in fact, as a cabman knows the streets of london. it is all mapped out in our minds, and we talk of various spots by name, either their maori names, if they have such, or fancy titles we have given them. of course, the dogs are our main reliance, though, even without them, such able hands as old colonial and the saint can get on well enough. but clever, well-trained cattle-dogs are a treasure beyond price in the bush; and this we know, taking great pains with our colleys. the cattle lie very close in the dense thickets of foliage, and hide themselves from sight. one may run slap into a beast before it will move. but the dogs traverse the gullies on the stockman's flanks, and start up any cattle that may be in them. here is where the value of the dogs consists, for, if they are not well-trained, they may run after wild pigs, or rats, or kiwis, and give a lot of trouble. sometimes, after tracking the forest for many a weary mile, the stockman will have to return without finding the mob he wanted. occasionally he will have to camp out, not because of losing himself--that seldom happens to us now--but because of the distance he is from home. so a stockman rarely goes out without three requisites about him--food, matches, and tobacco. except in wet weather, camping out is no particular hardship to us. one can always make oneself comfortable enough in the bush, if one has those three articles, that are the bushman's "never-be-withouts." when the cattle are found, belonging to a mob that the stockman thinks proper to drive home, comes some very heavy and exciting work. we call our beasts tame, and so they are in a sense; still, compared to the gentle creatures one sees on english meadows, they are scarcely to be so characterized. at one time a mob will head for home, and go straight and quietly enough, needing only the dogs at their heels to keep them in the right direction. at another time the mob will scatter, and the members of it prove very unruly. they will charge and rush in every direction but the right one, and the very devil seems to be in the beasts. scrambling up steep ranges, dashing down precipitous ravines, and always forcing a passage through dense undergrowth and jungle, plunging through marsh and bog, chasing to right and to left, it is a wonder how dogs and men get through the work they do. and often there are miles and miles of this before the welcome clearing comes in view. what is the condition of a stockman after he has brought up his mob and yarded it for the night? he has walked and run and scrambled, perhaps, twenty or thirty miles during the day, and that not over a plain road, but through the rough and hilly forest. he is totally tired out and exhausted. he is dripping with sweat, caked with mud from head to foot, his shirt torn to rags, his skin scratched all over, and very likely some nasty bruises from tumbles. he has hardly energy enough left to wash himself. supper does not revive him, though he stows away an appallingly large one. and then he stretches himself in his bunk and is happy. only, when morning comes again, he awakes stiff and sore. but, no matter for that, inexorable duty claims him for the same toil. and so wags our daily life--hard, unremitting, unromantic labour, day after day, year after year. still we say it is a glorious life, and we believe what we say. anyhow, it is better than being chained to a desk, or growing purblind "poring over miserable books." if you can only realize what cattle-hunting means, the shouting and roaring after them and the dogs, the loss of temper that fatigue induces, and the consequent aggravation when beasts are unruly, perhaps you will forgive the saint for his "exuberant verbosity" in relation to cattle. even a real saint might swear under the circumstances, and be held excused by his peers in the celestial hierarchy. our four-year-old steers do not show very large, considered from english farmers' points of view. fifteen or sixteen hundred lbs. is about the maximum of our fat beasts. but the beef is of first-rate quality; and as bush-fed beasts are in good condition at the end of the dry season, when pasture-raised cattle are poor, we do as well by them as could be desired. the bush is always cool and fresh and moist, even when all the grass is withered and brown on the pastures; and this is one of the reasons why we prefer bush-land to open-land for pioneer farming. there is a standing controversy waged among settlers, as to whether it is better to take up such land as ours or to go in for a tract of open fern-land. on open lands you can easily clear the ground, and, though it will not, as a rule, yield grass for mere surface-sowing, yet the plough can be put into it within a year or two. but the cost of fencing it is much higher; and the open-land farmer must wait longer for returns such as will keep him. he has no bush-feed for cattle as we have, and it is cattle that the pioneer relies on for his support at first. it is eight or twelve years before the bush-farmer gets a chance of ploughing; but then his cattle keep him going from the outset. also, our burnt clearings will yield us good grass for surface-sowing, which will feed sheep until the stumps have rotted and the plough can be used. the sum of it is that open-lands will pay a man with good capital quicker, while bush-lands are the only possible thing for such poorer folk as ourselves. we send steers to auckland market two or three times a year. once or twice we have driven them overland, a distance of eighty miles or so by the map. this is not so far, certainly; but then there are no proper roads, and most of the way lies through thick bush. there is a faint apology for a bridle-track through the forest, not very easy to find, which strikes the great north road about twenty miles from here. and this same great north road, in spite of a pretentious title, and also in spite of being marked in the maps with a heavy black line, as though it were a highway of the watling street description, is just a mere bridle-track, too, hardly discoverable at all for the greater portion of its length. two or three of us ride along these tracks with the cattle. one or two have to be most of the time on foot, while the third leads their horses. they are plunging through the otherwise impenetrable scrub after dogs and cattle, which last will not keep the line. the whole journey takes about a week. we camp down at night, and half the next day is taken up with hunting for some of the beasts that have strayed. usually one or two are lost altogether before auckland is reached. this sort of thing hardly pays, unless a considerable number of beasts have to be sent at once; and then the steers have lost condition before they can be got to market. i have had some experience of this cattle-driving work; and of all the aggravating jobs i know, it certainly is the very worst. we usually send up our fat steers in batches of a dozen or so at a time, and prefer now to have them conveyed by water. when we have arranged to do so, there is a grand muster of the herd. mob after mob is brought up and enclosed in the fenced clearings, until we have collected together all we deem necessary. then comes the job of drafting out the steers selected for market. this is a work of difficulty. all hands are required to achieve it, and often several neighbours will come over to assist. a small paddock, or a stockyard, opens out of the larger one wherein the herd is assembled. the slip-panels between are guarded by four men. others on horseback, armed with the formidable loud-cracking stock-whips, drive the cattle slowly towards the gate. then comes the tug of war. each man uses all his endeavours to drive the chosen steers through the gate, while the rest are excluded. a regular battle is fought over every steer; for the guardians of the gate often fail in preventing other beasts from getting through as well, as they will not separate. then the driving is renewed from the other side. the cattle get wild and furious, charging and rushing at everything and everybody, and the men on foot have to look out for themselves very warily. the racket and row make up an indescribable din. as each four-year-old is finally drafted out, it is driven into a separate yard, until all are secured there. then the bulk of the herd are turned loose into the bush again. by-and-by, perhaps a day or two later, comes the job of shipping the steers. in order to effect this they are transferred to a stockyard on the beach. we have chartered a sea-going cutter, and she lies off in the river, possibly two or three hundred yards from the beach. a rope connects her with the beach; and the noosed end of this is passed over the horns of one of the steers in the yard. then comes a tussle to get that particular beast out of the yard while the others shall be kept in. often, in spite of the dreaded stockwhips, one of the guardians of the slip-panels gets knocked over, and then away goes the mob of terrified beasts, tearing along the beach, and giving no end of trouble to get them back again. once, i remember, a heavy steer bounded clean over the eight-foot fence of the stockyard, and got away. when the roped animal is got out on the beach, a ring of men drives him down to the water, the people on board the cutter hauling at the rope meanwhile. by this means he is easily got alongside of her, when once he is off his legs and swimming. then a sling is passed under his belly, tackle is affixed, and, with a "yeo, heave ho!" he is lifted on board and deposited in the hold. then the process begins afresh until all the batch is shipped. the cutter sails down the river and out through the heads into the open sea. she then coasts down and enters the manukau harbour, going up to onehunga to unload. onehunga is only six miles from auckland, of which it is practically a part, being the port of the city on the west coast. it is connected with auckland by railway and macadamized carriage-road. in auckland market fat cattle sell at twenty to thirty shillings per hundred lbs., sometimes even a little more. our beasts usually fetch us ten or twelve pounds apiece, after deducting freightage, and our agent's charges for receiving and selling them. this year, our herd of two hundred head yielded us three batches of four-year-old fat steers, each batch containing about a dozen head. when cattle breed wild in the bush they may be a source of considerable annoyance and loss. this does not matter in remoter districts, such as the recesses of the hokianga forests. wild cattle abound there, possibly in hundreds; and the maoris make a good thing by hunting them for their hides. there are no settlers' cattle running in the bush there; but where there are, wild cattle would make them as wild as themselves, and would spoil a herd in no time. when they appear in a district, cattle-farmers have to combine to hunt them down and extirpate them. once there were some wild cattle in the bush between te pahi and paparoa, on the opposite side of our river. the settlers of paparoa were hunting them down, and we were warned to look out, for fear the beasts should take to the water. they did do so, and a whole mob of them tried to swim over to our side. fortunately we were on the look-out. at once a party took to the boats, while others watched along the shore. we were in a great funk about the matter, for if the wild bulls got over to our side it might mean almost ruin for us. so we charged gallantly at them in the water, and strove to head them back to the other side, where the paparoa men were waiting for them. such guns as we had were brought out, but they were little good, not being rifled, and we had no ball cartridge. dandy jack performed prodigies of valour with an old harpoon; and o'gaygun used his axe with great success. altogether, the excitement was great and the sport good. one bull overturned a boat, as it rowed alongside him; but the fiend, who was in it, adroitly clambered on to the animal's back as it swam, and, with great difficulty, managed to open its throat with his knife. seven or eight were killed in the water. even the despised new-chums' pistols were brought into use, and in this emergency they proved really valuable. the beasts that effected the crossing were slaughtered on the beach; and altogether we killed some eighteen or twenty. we prevented them thus from getting into our bush, so saving our own herd from contamination. this has been our only experience of the kind in this district, luckily. there was an incident that happened once, in connection with cattle, of rather an unusual sort. so much so, in fact, that most people to whom we have at times spoken of it have doubted our veracity. i suppose it will add but little weight to the story if i premise it with the assertion that it is simple truth. nevertheless, it _is_ actual fact, believe it or not who list. there was a grand assemblage at the station of a friend and neighbour of ours, on one of the kaipara rivers. he had been running a large herd, over a thousand head of cattle, and was now going to dispose of the greater number. this was because the feed for them was getting short in his immediate neighbourhood; and because his land was now becoming ready for sheep and the plough. nearly all the men in the district had been asked to come and assist at the mustering, drafting, and so on, of the herd. it was a gathering of the kind known in america as a "bee." and as a bee usually winds up with festivity, feasting, dancing, and the like, such femininities as the district possessed were brought over by their respective husbands or male relatives. while we busied ourselves with the cattle in the yard and on the run, the ladies were occupied with industries peculiar to themselves indoors, giving the mistress of the house the benefit of a sewing, scandal, and cooking bee, probably. we had been all day hard at work, and had pretty well got through all there was to do. most of the cattle had been drafted into yards, had been branded or handled as required, and the work was nearly complete. towards sundown we came to be most of us assembled about one of the yards. this was a stockyard, or paddock, of about two acres in extent, and within it an obstinate young bull remained solus, holding his own against us. it was necessary, for purposes which need not be specified, that the beast should be thrown and tied down. we usually accomplish the overthrow of big beasts by noosing their legs, and so tripping them up; but this bull was far too wary to let any one get near him, and was wild and vicious, moreover. several of us had been fruitlessly trying, for an hour or more, to do something with him, and our host was now saying the beast had better be shot out of hand; but we had spent so much time over him already that we did not like to give in, and resolved we would throw him anyhow. none of us could stay inside the fence, so fierce were the rushes of the bull, and he was too cunning to let himself be caught by coming near the rails. as man after man concluded his other tasks, and came up to assist, our perplexity seemed to increase. various plans were discussed, and put in operation, but the bull baffled them all. there was beginning to be a good deal of ill-temper and swearing among us. and now dandy jack appeared on the scene. he had not been with us during the day, having just rowed over from somewhere else. of course he had gravitated towards the house when he arrived, and had been sunning himself in the ladies' smiles. now he was strolling out to have a pipe, and to see what we were about. tired, ill-tempered, and covered with muck as we all were, there was a tendency among us to resent this late arrival of master dandy jack's; and this feeling, you may be sure, was not lessened by a contemplation of the extravagant cleanliness and daintiness of apparel that, as usual, pervaded this spruce lady-killer's outward man. he was hailed with a volley of sarcasm and personalities, amid which he stood, hands in pockets and pipe in mouth, placidly surveying us and the situation. at length, when a pause in the tempest of words gave him an opportunity of speaking, he said, in his softest and most delicate tones-- "i see before me a number of gentlemen with whom i have the honour to be more or less acquainted. they are all hot, dirty, and disagreeable. i also see a stockyard, and within it four quarters of fresh beef, likewise hot, dirty, and disagreeable. there would seem to be a difficulty somewhere. can i assist in removing it?" he was answered by a burly giant of a bushman, a wairoa man, who had scant knowledge of our dandy. "p'raps you'll be so blanked polite as to show us how to capsize that blanked beast," he said, adding with bitter irony, "if it ain't too much to ask from such a blanked, pretty, drawing-room ornament!" "oh, certainly! with all the pleasure in life!" responded dandy jack urbanely. "will you kindly keep my pipe alight for a minute?" then, to everybody's amazement, he vaulted over the fence and approached the bull. instantly that animal saw him, down went his head, of course, and up went his tail, as he charged upon the sauntering figure. but jack dodged the rush with the nimbleness of a practised picador; and the bull crashed against the fence. again and again the same performance was repeated, while we all watched round the fence, calling to jack at intervals to come out of his dangerous situation. he only nodded carelessly, and continued to saunter about as if no bull was near him. presently, the bull stood stock-still, then commenced pawing the ground, tossing his head and tail, bellowing, and eyeing jack, who was leisurely moving towards him right in front. he had apparently grown tired of charging this figure that always eluded him, and was uncertain what to do next. so dandy jack walked on till he was within a yard or two of the bull's nose. then the beast thought it was time to do something, and concluded to try the effect of one more rush. but he was too late. directly that his angry head went down, with a preparatory sweep, dandy jack, whose assumed carelessness really covered a preternatural degree of alertness, sprang at him. it was all done so quickly that we spectators could hardly distinguish what was happening. we saw jack seize one of the bull's horns with both hands, we saw him place his foot upon the other. then came a wrench and a wrestle, all in the space of one moment, and then jack was whirling through the air, to fall lightly enough on the soft ground half a dozen yards off. but the bull lay rolling on his back. that twist of his head had overbalanced him. and before he could recover himself and scramble to his feet, we had sprang over the fence and got him securely tied with our ready ropes. a few minutes later, our eccentric chum was quietly sitting on the prostrate and helpless carcase of his late antagonist. with his usual dainty care he was ridding himself of the dust and dirt that had soiled him when he fell. the wairoa man was regarding him in blank astonishment. clearly, dandy jack was an entirely new species of the _genus homo_ to him. thus spake the bull-fighter, with elaborate affectation of languor and softness-- "look here, old fellow! you don't understand what a bull is. i'll tell you. it's a thing that some people look at from the safe side of the fence, and that other people take by the horns." this was hardly fair upon the giant, perhaps. but after his doughty deed, dandy jack was to be excused if he improved the occasion, and revenged himself for the sneer that had previously been cast upon him. oh! we are getting on fast and famously now, with our farm. the stumps on the first clearing are now completely rotten; so we have pulled them out, piled them in heaps, and burnt them. this clearing is ready for the plough. besides, there is a piece of flat, marshy ground below our shanty on the left, and this was only covered originally with flax, swamp-grass, and small shrubs. in the dry season we have burnt this off as it stood. the soil is not deep, but it is good, and we shall plough this in with the other. there will be about fifty acres of plough land altogether, and twice as much more next year, or the year after. we have borrowed a plough and harrows from a neighbour, and are going to work. ploughing is quite a new industry up here. there are some of the settlers round who have got lands under plough before this; but not to any great extent. to us it seems to open up a boundless vista of opulence, and there is no end to our speculations, and to the general excitement in our shanty. wheat! we must grow it, of course; and a flour-mill at the township is an imperative necessity. somebody must start one, and that quickly. why should we go on eating adelaide flour, when we are growing wheat ourselves? they have reaped sixty and eighty bushels to an acre, in the south island, and their average is thirty! so old colonial tells us. well, our land is richer than theirs, and our climate is better too, so much cannot be gainsaid. _ergo_, we shall have better crops. south island corn has been sold in london at a profit; and has been judged first-class in quality. _ergo_, again, ours must infallibly top the markets of the world. that is, what we are _going_ to grow, you understand. then there is the great sugar question. government is always offering divers incentives to new industries. it has offered a bonus of £ to whomsoever produces the first fifty tons of beet-root sugar in new zealand. that is, over and above what the sugar may fetch in the market. we say, why should not we go in for it? so many acres of beet, a crushing mill, a few coppers and some tubs, and there you are! wealth, my boy! wealth! but o'gaygun has misgivings. "this is not a whate-growin' counthry," he declares. it is far too rough and hilly. there are too many difficulties in the way. you can grow wheat to a certain extent, of course. the north can produce enough for its own consumption, and more. it will pay as one among other operations and productions. but we must not think of it as our principal or staple industry. and then as to sugar. you must have a couple of hundred acres of beet at least, to begin with. a mill and appliances that are to be of real use would cost £ or so. your bonus would be but a small thing if you got it. if all the farmers in the district were to combine to grow beet-root on every acre they could plough, and nothing else, even then it would hardly pay the sugar-mills, or possibly the farmers either. stick to cattle and sheep, to pigs and potatoes, "ontil ye're able to give ye're attintion to fruit. fruit! whativver ye can do wid it, that's what this counthry's made for! wine! an' ile! an' raisins! an'----" "oh, shut up, o'gaygun! get out, you miserable misanthrope!" nevertheless, i think our irish chum was about right in what he said, after all, especially in the last part of his remarks. dandy jack had been training horses, and old colonial had been gentling bullocks; so we had a choice of draggers for the plough. we ploughed in those fifty acres, fenced them round, and put in potatoes for a cleaning crop, to thoroughly break up the old turf. we hope to get two crops in the year. the second will be maize and pumpkins. then, next year, wheat. the new-ploughed land is surveyed with rapture by us; but it is something different from an english field, after all. the ground was so irregular and rough; our beasts were not too easy to manage; and then--but this is unimportant--it was our first essay at ploughing. the furrows are not exactly straight, and there is a queer, shaggy look about them. but the potatoes are in, and a crop we shall have, no doubt about it. what more can possibly be needed? i have mentioned that we have several enclosures that may be termed gardens. so we have, and what they produce fully bears out o'gaygun's opinion, as to this being essentially a fruit country. of course our spade industry gives us all the vegetables we require, when we lay ourselves out for it. the worst of growing anything except roots is the immense amount of weeding required; the weeds spring in no time; and they are of such a savage sort in this fertile land. we grow large quantities of melons--water-melons, musk-melons, rock-melons, spanish melons, pie-melons, and so on. also, we grow marrows and pumpkins in profusion, as the pigs are fed on them as well as ourselves. these plants do not want much weeding. they may be grown, too, among the maize. kumera, or sweet potatoes, we grow a good deal of; also many other vegetables, when we think we have time to plant them. but in fruit we excel. there is a neighbour of ours who goes in for tree-culture exclusively, and who has a nursery from which he supplies auckland. to him we owe a greater variety than we should otherwise have, perhaps. first, there are peaches. we have a great number of trees, as they will grow from the stone. we eat them in quantities; pickling, preserving, and drying them sometimes. but the principal use to which we put them is to fatten our pigs. we have several kinds of peaches, coming on at different seasons. the earliest kind are ripe about christmas, and other sorts keep on ripening to march or april. then we have some few apricots, nectarines, plums, cherries, loquats, etc., all yielding bounteously. the last are a very delicious fruit, ripening about october or november. figs we have till late into the winter, and they begin again early; we are very fond of them. oranges, lemons, and shaddocks grow fairly well, and are fruiting all the year round. apples do badly, being subject to blight, though the young trees grow rapidly, and, if freely pruned, will yield enormous crops. to obviate the blight we keep a constant succession of young trees to replace those that are killed. pears are not subject to the blight, and do well. grapes are very luxuriant; and, no doubt, this will be a wine-country in the future. already, some people at mangawai have made good wine, and have started a little trade in it. of strawberries, guavas, cape gooseberries, and other small fruit we have a little. the former fruit so plenteously here, that the leaves are entirely hidden by the clusters of berries and blossom. the second is a bush; and the last a plant like a nettle, which sows itself all over. the fruit is nice. both the gardens and the clearings are subject to a horrible plague of crickets. they are everywhere, and eat everything. but turkeys and ducks fatten splendidly on them, acquiring a capital gamey flavour. cricket-fed turkey would shame any stubble-fed bird altogether, both as to fatness and meatiness and flavour. we have hundreds of turkeys wild about the place, which keep down the crickets a good deal. although we eat them freely, they increase very rapidly, like everything else here. the worst of it is they will not leave the grapes alone, and if they would the crickets won't, which is a difficulty in the way of vine-growing. but notwithstanding that, some of us are convinced that wine-making is the coming industry of the kaipara. then there is the olive, and the mulberry for serici-culture. both these things are to come. experiment has been made in growing them, but that is all as yet. tobacco, too, will have its place. it grows well; and the maoris sometimes smoke their own growth. we prefer the virginian article. a man at papakura has done well with tobacco, we hear. government has bonused him, so it is said; and his manufactured product is to be had in all the auckland shops--strong, full-flavoured stuff; wants a little more care in manufacture, perhaps. tobacco, like some other things we have tried--hops, castor-oil, spices, drugs, and so on--needs cheap labour for picking. that is the _sine quâ non_ to success in these things. and for cheap labour we must wait, i suppose, till we are able to marry, and to rear those very extensive families of children, which are one of the special products of this fruitful country, and which are also such aids to the pioneer in getting on. take it altogether, we--the pioneers of te pahi--are of opinion that pioneer-farming here is a decided success. we are satisfied that it yields, and will yield, a fair return for the labour we have invested in it. we think that we are in better case, on the whole, than we should have been after eight years' work at other avocations in the old country. putting aside the question of the magnificent health we enjoy--and that is no small thing--we are on the high road to a degree of competence we might never have attained to in england. not that we wish to decry england; on the contrary, we would like to return there. but for a visit, merely. here is our home, now. the young country that is growing out of its swaddling clothes, and that we hope, and we know, will one day be a brighter britain in deed and in truth. chapter ix. our show-place. we have a show-place, and one of which we are excessively proud. it is not a castle, a baronial hall, or ruined abbey, as one would expect a properly constituted show-place to be--at "home." in this new country, it is needless to say, we have no antiquities of that sort. yet this place, of which we are so proud, and that it delights us to extol to strangers, has a history that renders its singular picturesqueness additionally striking. mere scenery is never so effective if it has no story to tell. there must be something, be it fact or fiction, to attach to a place before its beauties can be fully appreciated. the charm of poetry and romance is a very real one, and can add much to one's enjoyment of a particular view. i suppose that something is needed to interest and attract the intelligence, at the same moment that the sense of sight is captivated, so that a double result is produced. scotland is one fair example of this. fine as the scenery there may be, is it to be supposed that alone would attract such hordes of tourists every summer? certainly not; it is the history associated with each spot that throws a glamour over it. much magnificence of nature is passed by unheeded in scotland, because history or tradition has conferred a higher title to regard upon some less picturesque place beyond. the fiction and poetry of scott, and of burns and others in less degree, have clothed the mountains and the glens with a splendid lustre, that causes people to view their natural beauties through a mental magnifying glass. nature unadorned seldom gets the admiration bestowed on it that it does when added to by art. but why pursue this topic? every one knows and feels the power that associations have of rendering picturesque nature more picturesque still. therefore, a show-place, to be regarded as such in the true sense of the word, must possess features of interest of another kind, underlying the external loveliness of form and outline that merely please and captivate the eye. here, in our britain of the south sea, we have abundance and variety of the most glorious and splendid scenery. so far as wild nature is concerned, there is nothing in europe that we cannot match. our alps might make switzerland envious; one or two of our rivers are more beautiful than the rhine; the plains of canterbury are finer than midland england; the rolling ranges and lakes of otago may bear comparison with scotland and with wales; mount egmont or tongariro would make vesuvius blush; the hot-spring region of rotomahana and rotorua contains wonders that cannot be matched between iceland and baku; and here in the north our forest country is grander than the tyrol, and more voluptuously lovely than the wooded shores of the mediterranean. at least, that is what those who have seen all can say. but, though nature has given us such sublime triumphs of her raw material, these have no history, no spirit. they tell to us no story of the past; and poetry has not crowned them with a diadem of romance. hence their effect is partly lost, and when we new zealanders go "home" for a trip, we find a charm in the time-hallowed landscapes of the old world, above and beyond all our greater scenic glories here. still, here and there in this new land, we have contrived to invest some special spot with a kind of infant spirit or baby romance of its own. here and there our short history has left a landmark, or maori tradition a monument. already we are beginning to value these things; already we are conscious of the added interest they give to our scenery. but to our children's children, and to their descendants, some of these places will speak with more vivid earnestness. they will appreciate the stories that as yet are so new, and will take a rare and lively pleasure in the scenery enriched by the tale of their pioneer ancestors, or by legends of the native race that then will be extinct. new zealand has even now what may be termed its "classic ground," as will be found in another chapter. but there exists a great deal of maori tradition connected with various spots, and some of us do the best we can to preserve the tales that adorn certain localities. some of the legends are mythological. of such sort is that which gives such vivid interest to lonely cape reinga; the place where the spirits of dead maori take their plunge into the sea, on their way from earth to the next world. such, too, is the dragon legend, the tale of the taniwha, which graces the volcanic country in the interior. besides these are the numerous stories of a more historical sort, incidents of love and war, which hang around the places where they happened. a country like this, so rich in natural beauties, so filled with the glories and magnificences of the creator's hand, is surely-- "meet nurse for a poetic child." it is not surprising, then, that we find the maori character actively alive to such impressions. the oldest men absolutely revel in the abundance of the tales, both prose and poetry, that they are able to relate about the scenes around them. but young maori is more civilized, and does not trouble his head so much with these old narratives. it is well, then, that some should be preserved while that is possible. old colonial is a great hand at yarns. he loves to hear himself talk, and, in truth, he can tell a tale in first-class dramatic fashion. o'gaygun and dandy jack are both given to the same thing a good deal. they run old colonial pretty close in all respects save one, and that is when he gets into a peculiarly maori vein. there they cannot follow him, for neither has achieved his command over the intricacies of maori rhetoric, nor has that intimate experience of the natives, which enables old colonial to enter so thoroughly into the spirit and character of their narrations. as i know that old colonial's hands are more accustomed to the axe than to the pen, and that he will never take the trouble to give his wonderful collection of anecdotes to a larger audience than his voice can reach, i have made notes of his narratives, and some day, perhaps, shall put them in print. in the meantime, i may as well mention, that, it was from his lips that i heard the tale of our show-place. one day, some lime was wanted on the farm for some purpose or other, and it became a question as to how we had better get it. the usual method employed in the neighbourhood was to utilize oysters for this purpose. a rude kiln would be constructed in the bank, where it sloped down to the river-beach. in this would be placed alternate layers of dead wood and of living oysters, with a proper vent. the burn usually resulted in a fair supply of good shell-lime, than which there can be no better. but on this occasion we wanted a tolerably large quantity of lime, so that there were objections to the plan i have just detailed. for though oysters abounded on our beach, and covered the rocks that low-tide laid bare, yet, when a good many tons of them were wanted, all of which must be gathered with a handshovel and carried on men's backs to the kiln, it became evident that a considerable amount of labour must be undergone before our ultimate object could be attained. now, one of the first and chiefest considerations of the pioneer-farmer is always how he may most closely economize time and labour. it is particularly necessary for him, because of the scarcity of the latter commodity, and the consequent pressure upon the first. it is usually a strictly _personal_ question. on this occasion the subject was debated at one of our nightly parliaments in the shanty. then the saint broke out with one of those quaintly simple remarks that used to amuse us so much. he said-- "i don't think it can be right to burn oysters, you know. it must hurt them so awfully, poor things!" of course, we all laughed long and loudly. it seemed too ridiculous to consider the possibilities of an oyster feeling pain. "well done, saint!" was the general exclamation; "that's a good excuse to get yourself off a job of humping over the rocks." the saint flushed up, and proceeded argumentatively, "look here! wouldn't it be better to burn dead shells?" "f'what did shells is it, me dear?" asked o'gaygun, in a wheedling tone. "well, there's plenty on marahemo, for instance." marahemo, i may mention, is a hill about three miles back from the river. it is about one thousand feet high, i suppose, and lies behind our land. "did ye ivver hear the loike av that, now?" roared o'gaygun, boisterously. "here's the bhoy for ye! here's the bhoy that's afraid to ate an eyester fur fear av hurtin' the baste, an' that's goin' to hump marahemo down to the farrum, aal so bould an' gay! shure now, thim's the shouldhers that can do that same!" after a brief, friendly passage of arms between the two, the saint continued hotly-- "well, all i can say is, it seems to me more sensible to burn our lime on marahemo and to hump it down here, than to hump oysters along the beach, and then have to hump the lime again up from there." "by jove!" broke in old colonial, "the boy's right, i believe. shut up, you milesian mudhead, and listen to me. right from the old pa on the top of marahemo down to the very foot, there's the maori middens: a regular reef of nothing but shell, oysters and pipi and scollops and all the rest. there must be hundreds and hundreds of tons of pure shell. all we've got to do is to make a kiln near the bottom and shovel the shell into it; and there's any amount of firewood, dead stuff, round about." "well, but look at the long hump from there down to the farm." "i know; but won't it be simpler to do that than to collect oysters on the beach? we should have to hump treble the weight of the lime we should get after burning them. and then we should have to hump the lime at least half a mile up from the beach. there is a track through the bush up to marahemo, and we could easily open it a bit. half a day's work for the lot of us would make it passable for a bullock-sled; or we might pack the lime down on some of dandy jack's horses. then the stuff we should get there would be easier burnt and make better lime. and we could make enough to supply the neighbourhood. a few boat-loads sold at a fair price would pay us for our work, and we should have the lime we want for our own use as pure profit. if we didn't find a market on the rivers, i'm certain it would pay to charter a schooner, load her up, and send her round to the manukau. auckland has to get all her lime from whangarei or mahurangi as it is." so the thing was settled, and we went to work on marahemo as lime-burners. one day when we were "nooning," old colonial and i chanced to be together on the top of marahemo. we were looking at the splendid prospect, glorious under the mid-day sun. all around us was bush--a dense jungle of shrubs and trees. the conical hill on which we stood was thickly clothed, and all round, over the steep, rough ranges, the abrupt ravines and gullies, with their brawling streams, was spread the one variegated mantle of gorgeous foliage. since then i have seen certain of the far-famed forests of the tropics, but i must candidly say that the scenery they offer is, on the whole, far less striking and beautiful than that of the bush of northern new zealand. the colouring is not so good; in the mass, it is not so lustrous, nor so varied. the rich flowers are hidden away, so that the fewer and less gaudy blossoms of our bush are more conspicuous, because severally more plentiful. but a woodland scene in england, the old home across the seas, even surpasses all in the glory of its autumn dress. from where we stood on marahemo we could see for considerable distances, where the ranges did not intervene. here and there, through some vista of wooded gullies, we could catch a glimpse of shining river reaches, and, in one or two directions, could make out the house of some neighbour, easily distinguishable in the pure atmosphere, though possibly ten or twelve miles distant. looking towards the west, we could see our own farm. the distance was just enough to mellow the view softly. the shanty looked neat and tidy; the grass in the paddocks bright and fresh; the fences appeared regular and orderly; the asperities and irregularities of the ground were not seen, even the stumps were almost hidden; and the cattle and sheep that dotted the clearings might have been browsing on english meadows, so fair and smooth was the picture. as we looked on our home thus, the growth of our labour, we realized our independence of the outer world. and i dare say that, for a moment, "our hearts were lifted up within us," to use the scriptural phraseology. i believe i was guilty, under the inspiration of the scene, of uttering some sentimental nonsense or other, in which occurred reference to "primeval forests," or something of the sort. old colonial took me up shortly-- "'tain't primeval," he said. "there's the heavy bush, the real primeval stuff," pointing to a well-marked line that commenced about half a mile further back. "no," he continued; "all this round us is only about fifty years old." "only fifty years!" i exclaimed wonderingly, for the woods looked to me as old as the new forest, at least; judging by the size and luxuriance of the trees." "oh, here and there, there are older trees; but half a century ago all this land was under maori cultivation." then he showed me the old ramparts that had defended the crest of the hill. a double bank of earth, now all overgrown with trees and shrubs, not unlike the outlines of ancient british and roman encampments. on every point around us similar traces could be found, showing that the district had been thickly inhabited. as the maoris had no grazing stock in those days, and no grass in these parts, their lands were solely spade-cultivations. some thousands of acres between the pahi and the wairau had once grown their taro and kumera and hue, together with potatoes and other things introduced by captain cook. marahemo pa was the capital of the district. its position, occupying the crest of a sugar-loaf hill, defended by earthworks and stockades, must have made it seem impregnable to people unacquainted with artillery. the space enclosed was considerable; and the immense quantities of shells thrown down the sides of the hill attested the numbers of its population--for all the shell-fish would have to be brought up here on the backs of women and slaves from the beach, which is over three miles distant; and shell-fish was by no means the principal item of the maori commissariat. "that must have been the way they went," said old colonial, looking in a direction where a strip of the arapaoa was visible through a gap made in the ranges by a narrow gully. "who went?" i asked, for i did not follow his thought. "hoosh!" cried he. "do you mean to say you've never heard the story of the battle and capture of marahemo, the tale of te puke tapu?" no, i had not heard it. at least, i remembered only some confused account of a conflict having taken place at the latter spot, which, being our show-place, i had often seen and knew well. "well," said old colonial, "there's no time now; but we've got to get some schnapper for supper to-night, so you and i will go and fish down the arapaoa yonder; then i'll tell you." in the evening we were sitting in the boat, anchored in the river nearly opposite our much venerated show-place. we were fishing with line and bait, diligently securing a supper and breakfast for ourselves and the rest of the company who make our shanty their home. every now and then either of us would pull up a great pink slab-sided schnapper, a glistening silvery mullet, or a white-bellied whapuka; we were in a good pitch, and the fish were biting freely. our minds were relieved from the anxiety of a possible shortness of provisions. the scenery around us is truly magnificent, if only it were possible to describe it. i must, however, try to convey an idea of its outlines. we are lying in the arapaoa firth, at the point where it loses its distinctive name and divides into three heads. these three lesser firths, together with the main creek that flows into each above the point where the tide reaches, are respectively the pahi, the paparoa, and the matakohe. our boat seems to be floating in a lake, rather than in a river, for here the arapaoa is between three and four miles across. looking down to the right we see it stretching away, between bold, high banks of irregular outline, flowing down to the harbour and the sea thirty miles off. to our left is our own river, the pahi, narrower than the other. it is, perhaps, a mile across at the mouth. its shores present a diminishing perspective of woods; and, as mangroves line the beach on either side, the leafage and the water seem to melt into one another. five or six miles up, the ranges rise higher and run together, so that the beautiful pahi appears to lose itself in the forest. the opposite shore of the pahi ends in a high bluff that, from our point of view, appears like an island in the expanse of gleaming water. round the base of the bluff are gathered the white houses of te pahi township; and the masts of several small sailing-craft are seen off the beach. behind and above is a bold sweep of dark woods, forming a background to the baby town. the township bluff hides from us all view of the paparoa, which lies just behind it. but we have a full prospect of the wide reach of the matakohe, which has quite a lake-like look. just within it, on the further shore, are some low mud-banks, partially covered with stunted mangrove. here great flocks of grey snipe continually assemble, together with kingfishers, shags, wild duck, teal, and other waterfowl. the high bank conceals all behind it; but in one or two places we catch a glimpse of some settler's house, cresting the bold bluff, or half hiding in its orchards. and now we face to the east, with the setting sun behind us sending its rays full upon the central interest of the view, and thus we gaze our fill upon te puke tapu. a small but deep bay forms a bend in the shore of the river, guarded by steep heights on either hand. on the left a long promontory runs out into the pahi, as though to meet the township bluff upon its further shore. on the right a towering scaur shows the abrupt termination of the range behind it. the tide in the arapaoa flows swiftly by, but within the bay the water lies smooth as glass. between these two points may be a distance of about a mile straight across. the curving line of the shore, sweeping round from one to the other, forms a complete crescent. no rocks or mangroves, no mud-banks or oyster-beds spoil the effect of a narrow belt of white and glittering shingle, which lines the beach of the little bay. and right at the edge of this border-line begins the mingled green of fern and forest. the land slopes upward gradually from the beach, rising by regular steps into a grand semicircle of heights. the general shape is that of an amphitheatre. and here so rich is the soil, so sheltered the situation, that all the wild vegetation of the country seems growing with magnified luxuriance. the colouring is brighter and more brilliant than it often is in the bush; and there is a more extensive mingling of different trees and shrubs, a more picturesque grouping of forms and tints. there are emerald feathery fern-trees, copper-tinted "lancewoods," with their hair-like tufts, the tropic strangeness of nikau palms, crested cabbage-trees, red birch and white ti-tree, stately kauri, splendid totara, bulky rimu, dark glossy koraka, spreading rata, and half the arboreal catalogue of the country besides. and, in their several seasons, the blossoms which all the evergreen trees and shrubs put forth bloom more brightly here than elsewhere; and, while creepers of strange and beautiful forms twine and suspend and stretch from tree to tree, the woodland greenery is set with a rich variety of scarlet cups and crimson tassels, of golden bells or flesh-pink clusters, or the darker depths are lit up by showering masses of star-like clematis. terrace above terrace, receding from the water's edge, the encircling lines of bush rise upwards and away, until at last the leafy mantle flows over the summit of the topmost range. far back, and central, in the wide sweep of the amphitheatre is a sudden dip in the outline. it is the opening of a little gully, through which a hidden stream comes down below the trees and babbles out across the shingle; and that opening just reveals mount marahemo behind. his wooded crest has caught the tinted radiance of the sunset, and stands out in glorious relief against the purpling background of sky, framed in the glowing beauty of the nearer puke tapu. such is our show-place, the "sacred soil," where sleep the departed warriors of the ngatewhatua. the bell-bird and the tui sing a requiem over them by day, while the morepork and the kiwi wail for them at night. and the wonderful loveliness of this spot, where they fought and died, might well inspire a tennyson to pen another "locksley hall." "jee--roosalem!" sighed dandy jack. "only put _that_ on canvas, and hang it in burlington house, and what an advertisement it would be for us!" old colonial goes on to tell the tale of te puke tapu, in the intervals of hauling up schnapper. he says-- "the boys call it 'the burying ground,' because of the bones and skulls that are lying about or stuck up in the trees. that's rather misleading, though, for it was never a wahi tapu, or native cemetery. this bay was evidently the landing-place or port for marahemo, and the subordinate kaingas on the ranges yonder. you can see it was naturally that. as such there would be constant traffic through it, even if there were no wharès in the place itself. now a wahi tapu was so sacred that no one but a tohunga dared to approach its boundaries, even under pain of death and damnation; so that such a place was always in some very out-of-the-way locality, certainly never near a spot so much frequented as this would be. "it's tapu enough now, though, and has been ever since the battle, which, i opine, must have been fought somewhere about . the chiefs won't sell an inch of this piece to any one; and not a maori dares go near it. lots of people have tried to buy it, and have even offered as much as five pounds an acre for its magnificent soil; but the maoris are not to be tempted, and, what's more, say they'll have utu from any pakeha that goes into it. "once, some years ago, i was out pig-hunting, and killed a big one just on the top of that scaur. the carcase rolled down into the water, and the tide carried it away down river. it was washed up at tama-te-whiti's place, six miles below this. now tama, although he's an ordained parson, still retains most of the old superstitions, as all the older maoris do. he was in a terrible stew when this pig, killed on tapu ground, and consequently tapu itself, stranded on his beach. his wife and he came out with long poles and pushed it into the water. then they got into their boat, and managed to get the pig out into the channel and set it floating off again. afterwards they carefully burnt the poles that had touched the dreadful thing. finally, tama came up to me and demanded utu, which i had to pay him. if we had not been such good friends, and if tama had not been more sensible than the other maoris, i believe the district would have been too hot to hold me. "tama told me the whole history of the place; and gave me a graphic account of the battle, in which he took part. he is one of the 'last of the cannibals,' one of the few survivors of the old fighting days, before the missionaries caused the abolition of cannibalism. "you know who hongi was, i suppose? the great chief of the ngapuhi, who was so friendly with marsden and the first missionaries, who went to sydney and then to england, was presented to king george and made much of. when he got back to sydney, this astute savage 'realized' on all the fine things that had been given him, and turned the proceeds into muskets, powder, and ball. then he loaded up a trading-schooner, chartering her with a promise of a return cargo of pigs, timber, and flax, and joyfully sailed back to new zealand. "all his life, hongi was very friendly to the missionaries, as well as to traders from sydney. but the former never converted him. he remained a ferocious manslayer and cannibal to the last. yet it was owing to this chief that missionaries gained a first footing in the country. "hongi's great idea was to make himself king of all new zealand. in pursuance of this plan he armed his fighting men with fire-arms, and when they were drilled in the use of them, he started on a grand maraud all through the island. his notion of kingly power seems to have been to kill and eat, or enslave, every other tribe but his own. he certainly slew his thousands; and utterly depopulated the country wherever he went. "the ngatewhatua, whose country lay all round these waters, were the ancient foemen of the ngapuhi; consequently, they were among the first to experience hongi's new mode of civilizing. a great battle was fought up on the wairoa, where two or three thousand of our fellows were discomfited by hongi's army. the fugitives came down the rivers and rallied again. every man of the ngatewhatua who was able to bear arms, took up his merè and patu and spear, and went forth to fight for his fatherland. they fought the invading ngapuhi all the way down from the wairoa, as they marched through the forests between this and mangapai. "but badly-armed bravery had little chance against the superior equipment of hongi's bands. do all they might, the ngatewhatua could not stay the progress of their foes. when, at last, the invaders drove them as near as the maungaturoto bush, our tribe gave way in despair, and came back to this place. they had still one hope, one refuge, the hitherto unconquered marahemo pa. "into that pa, then, where we stood this morning, crowded the whole population of the district--men, women, and children. here they would make their last despairing stand. the attack would come from the north-east, consequently this bay would be in rear; and in it the canoes were drawn up for flight, if that were necessary. "then hongi and his ruthless army swept out of the woods, and rushed upon marahemo. they surrounded the hill, and, advancing to the fortifications, poured in a hot fire. frightful were the losses among the besieged; and little could they do in return, spears and stones being their only missiles. still, they held out for three days, their crowded ranks gradually thinning and thinning. "at last, at daybreak on the third day, hongi delivered a grand assault. the ngapuhi came up in three columns on the eastern slope of the hill, where the principal gate of the pa was. the two outer flanks concentrated all their fire on the point, while the centre, headed by hongi himself, wearing a helmet and breastplate that king george had given him, constituted the storming party. "the struggle at the gate must have been terrific. at close quarters fire-arms were no longer of service, and the ngatewhatua would be equal to their assailants. both sides fought with all the fierce courage of their race. tama says that the bodies of the slain lay in piles, and that their blood flowed in streams down the hill. "tuwhare was the name of the ariki or supreme chief of the ngatewhatua; he was also a tohunga, or priest. a lion-like old man he seems to have been, from tama's description. seeing that all was lost, when the conquering ngapuhi had forced their way into the pa, and were mercilessly slaughtering men, women, and children, he did the only thing left to be done. he took from its perch the palladium of the tribe, an heitiki ponamu, or greenstone image, and, summoning around him the remnant of his men, together with some of the women, they fled from the western side of the pa, hotly pursued by the victors. "the fugitives came down through that little gully, here to the bay, intending to take to their boats, and escape down the river. tama was among them, and he afterwards concealed himself in a tree, and, thus hidden, was a witness of the final scene; for a band of hongi's men had come along the beach, and had captured the canoes beforehand, so that retreat was cut off. "but a short time was there to consider what should now be done. the pursuing ngapuhi were close at their heels. the sacred tiki was placed in the branches of a tree for safety. and as the yelling and elated victors came bounding down the gully, brave old tuwhare and his remaining warriors, with merè in hand and war-cry ringing through the woods, hurled themselves against the foe. overpowered by numbers, and by superiority of weapons, the grim fight was soon over, and the last of the ngatewhatua were slain. but, beside their bodies, many a ngapuhi corpse showed that the vanquished had died as warriors should. "the ngapuhi who had slain tuwhare, cut off the dead chiefs head, and placing it in the nearest tree, rushed back towards marahemo to summon hongi. now hongi was brave as man could be, but, like all maoris then, he was intensely superstitious, and held all the maori gods and devils in the very highest respect. "hongi and his principal warriors were led across the field of battle by the lucky slayer of the ngatewhatua chief, in order that they might insult and taunt tuwhare's head, as was their custom. when they were all assembled round the tree, with the bodies of the dead lying about where they had fallen--'there! that's the place, to the left yonder, where the koraka trees are thickest!'--the branches were drawn aside to expose the grim trophy of the conquered chief. there it was, sure enough, just where the victor had put it, fresh and gory, with its white locks and richly tattooed features. but, oh, horror of horrors! right above the head, with all its hideous fluttering adornments of feathers and tassels, was the horrible, grotesque, and grinning idol! "chance had led the slayer of tuwhare to put his head into the self-same tree where the dead ariki had, a short time previously, disposed the tiki. there it now appeared, stuck in a fork, just where he had put it for safety. none of the ngapuhi knew how it had got there, and to their superstitious minds it seemed to have come by supernatural means. and this thing was tapu in the most deadly degree. "the mighty and terrible hongi trembled and shrieked when he saw the unlooked-for wonder. he and his men turned and ran out of the amphitheatre of the bay as fast as they could, shouting, 'te tapu! te tapu! the gods have taken to themselves the bodies of the slain!' "so they left this part of the battle-field, not daring to carry off the bodies as usual for a cannibal orgy. a long time afterwards, tama, and certain priests of the almost exterminated ngatewhatua tribe, ventured to return here. with much solemn karakia and propitiatory sacrifice, they tremblingly crept into the precincts of the bay. they placed the remains of their kindred in the forks of the trees, and hid the sacred tiki for ever from mortal eyes. then they departed, and the ægis of a holy place invests for posterity te puke tapu. "it is a charnel-house if you like, under those trees there, but a very beautiful one as is evident. we ought to keep alive the memories that make the place romantic. it would be a pity if utilitarian axe and fire were to spoil the beauty of te puke tapu. there is plenty of other good land to be had. no need for us to covet this, fertile as it is; no need to make a commonplace farm out of that picturesque old battle-ground. may it long remain just as it is now--a lovely natural monument to ancient maori valour, a quiet undisturbed resting-place for the warrior dead, the patriot chivalry of the ngatewhatua!" such is our show-place and its tale. chapter x. our native neighbours. a great friend of ours, and a near neighbour, is tama-te-whiti, the old maori. he is not _the_ chief of the ngatewhatua, but as he comes of the royal stock he is _a_ chief. he belongs to the caste styled tana, or chieftains, a degree above that of rangatira, or simple gentlemen-warriors. in the old feudal times--for the ancient maori system may be so designated--tama would have held a delegated authority over some portion of the tribe, just as a norman baron did in the elder world. now the tribe is very small, having been almost exterminated by the ngapuhi fifty years ago. three or four families form the section over which tama presides. but civilization and european colonization have abolished the old order of things, so that even a head chief's authority is now more nominal than real. in his youth tama was a warrior, having taken part in the battle which ended with the affair at marahemo, as described in the previous chapter. a fugitive from his own district, his hopes of one day becoming a lordly ruler over some large kainga of his own being shattered by defeat, he fell in with samuel marsden, and by that apostle of new zealand was converted to christianity. so now, in his old age, tama is a worthy exponent of the new dispensation. born to warfare, he is now an ordained deacon of the anglican church; instead of cannibalism, he has taken to thrifty farming; instead of fighting, he preaches among his countrymen; instead of leading a ferocious taua, he finds himself the venerated pastor of a little community of earnest christians. tama's place is some seven or eight miles away, down the arapaoa. he has a very comfortable little kainga, a fenced-in enclosure, wherein are raupo wharès built in the best styles of maori architecture, with little verandahs in front of them, and curiously carved doors and fronts. here reside tama and his wife, and one or two others; while just across the river is a larger kainga, where live the remainder of tama's flock. round about his wharès is a plentiful clearing, whereon are to be seen pigs and poultry, a few cattle, and a horse or two. on a well-selected hill-side close by are his cultivations--some few acres of maize, potatoes, kumera, melons, taro, fruit-trees, and so on, surrounded by a strong stake-fence. a few yards below the kainga is the beach, where a capital boat shows that tama prefers pakeha workmanship to the native article--a canoe that also lies near. nets and other matters prove that he reaps a harvest in the water as well as on land. a very "comfortable" man is our maori friend, for he has a claim over many hundred acres of good land around, some of which has already been sold to the pakeha. much of this is heavily timbered with valuable kauri and puriri. bushmen cut on his land to a small extent, and pay him a royalty of a pound per tree. we often say, jokingly, that the old fellow must have a tolerably well-filled stocking somewhere. tama is amazingly industrious. he and his wife together get through an immense amount of work. the produce of the farm is amply sufficient to provide them with all necessaries. more than that, the surplus produce probably pays for all the groceries, tools, and clothes required by the family. his seventy years weigh lightly on him. he is as strong and active as most men of forty, and is never idle. he fully understands the duty that devolves on him of setting an example to his flock, as well as of preaching to them. tama's ordinary costume is much the same as ours, except that he prefers to go barefooted. on sundays and occasions of state he dons the black cloth and white choker of an orthodox clergyman; but even then he avoids boots. only on very special occasions, such as when there is a grand gathering at the township, or on the rare occurrence of an english clergyman's visit, only then does tama put on boots; even then he brings them in his hand to the door of the place of meeting, puts them on before entering, and takes them off with evident relief directly he feels free to go. tama is about five feet ten inches in height. he is broad and square, very muscular, and without an inch of fat on him. his body is long and his legs short; the usual maori characteristic. his face bears the elaborate moku that denotes his rank, and is without hair. the hair of his head is grizzly; but his features, the shape of his head, and the expression of his eyes, bespeak an intelligence superior to that of many europeans who come in contact with him. tama visits us very frequently, and often brings his wife with him. she is a pleasant, buxom body, with a contented smile always on her face. though not young, being probably between thirty and forty, she has not yet grown at all hag-like, as maori women generally do. she dresses cleanly and nicely--cotton or chintz gowns being her usual wear--but she leans to an efflorescence of colour in her bonnet, and has a perfect passion for brilliant tartan shawls. i think i once saw her at the otamatea races in a blue silk dress. but, both she and her husband have discarded all the feathers and shells and pebbles that are purely native adornments. astute and intelligent as tama really is, it is, of course, to be expected that he cannot comprehend all the novelties of civilization. his deportment is always admirable, and he would carry himself through a drawing-room without any sensible _gaucherie_. he would be calm, composed, and dignified among any surroundings, however strange to him; only his keen and roving eyes would betray his internal wonder. like maoris in general, he is critically observant of every little thing among his pakeha friends, but, with true native courtesy, endeavours to hide from you that he is so. but the extraordinary mixture of grave intelligence and childish simplicity in him is perpetually leading to very quaint little incidents. one day, when routing among the "personals" i had brought with me from england, i discovered at the bottom of my chest an umbrella. now, in england, i suppose most people consider an umbrella as quite an indispensable article of attire, and even in colonial cities its use is by no means uncommon; but i need hardly say that in the bush such a thing is never seen. i brought out my relic of other days, and displayed it to the boys in the shanty. it was received with great applause, and i was unmercifully chaffed. it pleases our community to regard all the comforts and luxuries of a more complete civilization as effeminacies; and it is the received theory among us that we live the purest and highest life, having turned our backs upon all the corrupting influences of an effete, old world. there is among us a party, headed by o'gaygun, who take the position of ultra-conservatives; the object of their conservatism being the keeping alive of all the most primitive usages of the bush. to them anything new is an insult; the introduction of imported comforts and appliances a horrible iniquity. it will be remembered how fierce was o'gaygun's wrath on the occasion when forks and spoons were brought into the shanty. now, his sublime indignation was roused to the utmost at the spectacle of such an outrageous incongruity as an umbrella, in the pure and holy atmosphere of our shanty. an umbrella! did it not convey an instant recollection of all the worst emasculating tendencies from which we had come out? why, it was almost as bad as that acme of horrors, a chimney-pot hat! "smash it! burn it!" he shouted. "mother av moses! f'what nixt?" however, it was eventually decided that i should give the umbrella to old tama, it being a handsome one, with carved ivory handle, silver mounting and crest, etc. this would ensure the removal of the obnoxious invention from the shanty; and, moreover, so o'gaygun declared, the vile thing would be an acceptable addition to a museum of pakeha curiosities, which, he said, tama was collecting. the next time that tama visited us i formally presented him with the umbrella, giving him the minutest instructions concerning the spreading and furling of it. he had taken a strong fancy to me; and was much pleased with the gift. his first inquiry was, naturally, what i expected to get out of him by such a splendid gift. knowing that it would be futile to attempt to persuade him that i gave the thing freely, and without expecting any return, i said that, although the umbrella was worth a merè ponamu,[ ] at least, yet that i should be satisfied if he would give me a kitful of taro in exchange. this thoroughly jumped with the old man's humour. not only did he shake hands with me, but he also accorded me the nose salutation. the rubbing of noses is now disused; and when a maori confers it on a pakeha it means an extra display of feeling, almost a making brotherhood. it was the highest honour old tama could pay me. i thought i had fully explained to the reverend gentleman the uses of an umbrella. i had over and over again hammered into him that it was meant to protect one from rain. but it appears that the idea failed to reach his mind. when tama left the shanty it looked threatening to rain, so i unfurled the umbrella, and placed it open in his hand. he stumped off proudly with it held above him. we watched him go down the clearing towards the river, where his boat was moored. presently it came on to rain in earnest. then tama seemed to hesitate, it evidently occurring to him that something was wrong. in an undecided sort of way he inverted the umbrella, and held it handle upwards in front of him; but as the rain came thicker and faster, even this seemed unsatisfactory. at last he stopped altogether, having apparently come to the conclusion that the wet would injure the umbrella. after a prolonged struggle, for the catch was a mystery to his unaccustomed fingers, he managed to close it. then he took off his coat, laid it flat upon the ground, and placing the umbrella upon it, wrapped that up in the coat. lastly, he cut some strips from a flax-bush close by, and carefully tied up the parcel. then he put it under his arm, and marched off in his shirt-sleeves contentedly, evidently feeling that he had got the better of the pouring rain. tama keeps the umbrella stowed away in the recesses of his wharè. he often tells me, with a quiet, good-humoured sneer, as of one talking to a child, that it does not keep off the rain. his view is that i, in my incomprehensible pakeha way, imagine the thing to be an anti-rain fetish; a notion which superior maori wisdom has found to be erroneous. i saw that umbrella once again. it was a fine moonlit night, and two or three of us were rowing up the river on a return from some excursion. on the way we passed a boat-load of maoris coming down. in the stern of their boat sat tama, and above him he held the umbrella open. as the boats crossed, he called to me:-- "it is not raining to-night. but it is not this thing that keeps it off; it is god only who does that!" and so the good man went on his way, doubtlessly glowing at the thought that he had fitly rebuked my folly; for, like some other christians, though he might retain some superstitions of his own, yet those are real, and all other people's false. on another occasion old colonial had been away in australia. on his return, tama and his wife came up to welcome him home again. old colonial had brought back presents for all our maori friends; and he had selected for tama a silver watch, with a gorgeous guard and seals. this pleased the old fellow mightily; and for three mortal hours did old colonial strive to instruct him in how to tell the time, and how to wind it up. he thought at last that he had thoroughly succeeded in enlightening the maori about his new acquisition. tama departed with ill-concealed glee, stopping every now and then, as he went, to listen to the watch ticking. however, the next morning, as we sat at breakfast, tama appeared, with a serious and sad expression on his face. he would eat nothing; but, drawing old colonial aside, communicated to him the distressing intelligence that the watch had _died_ during the night. without betraying any amusement, old colonial wound up the watch again, and proceeded to give another lecture on its action to the ancient child. he went away apparently satisfied, and much lightened in his mind; but we began to have a fear that the watch would prove an injudicious present. the next morning tama appeared again, with the same sad and serious aspect, this time complicated with a look of intense puzzlement. he contemplated old colonial's hands as he wound up the watch again and set it going. this was a total mystery to the old fellow. he said he had been "doing that" to the watch all night long, talking to it, and telling it not to die. we opined that he had not succeeded in opening the case of the watch, but had sat twiddling the key about the outside of it. the same thing went on day after day. tama began to grow weak and ill. he was haggard with anxiety, spending his days in listening to the regular tick-tick of the watch, and his nights in trying to keep it alive. in vain he sat up with it night after night, holding it in his hands, caressing it, wrapping it in warm clothes, and laying it beside the fire, even, so he told us, reading the bible and praying for it. in spite of this generous treatment the watch invariably died about five o'clock in the morning. then the miserable proprietor had to take his boat and row up the eight miles of river that lay between his place and ours. at last the old fellow began to get a better idea of the hang of the thing. he essayed to wind the watch at night, but failed, and in some indescribable way managed to break the key. then the charm was dissolved. feeling that his health was becoming impaired by his devotion to this pakeha fetish, and that consideration finally overcoming his pride in its possession, he returned the watch to old colonial. he said it was "kahore pai;" or, as a scotsman would put it, "no canny." tama keeps the guard and seals to wear on festive occasions. but the watch, no. he has had enough of such silly things. henceforth, as formerly, the sun will suffice him for a timekeeper. that is not given to dying, nor does it require sitting up with at night and such like attentions, and it manages its own winding up. we have other maori neighbours besides tama and his immediate following. there are several families living on the different rivers and creeks round about, and with them all we are on friendly terms; with some we are passably intimate, though with none quite so affectionately at one as with tama. perhaps our next best friends would be found at tanoa. tanoa is a large kainga on the otamatea river, and lies about sixteen miles across the bush from our farm, or somewhat more by the water-road. it contains a population of two or three hundred; men, women, and children. this maori town may be considered the metropolis of the ngatewhatua tribe. tanoa is prettily situated, for the otamatea, though a larger river than the pahi, is very picturesque in parts. the kainga lies embosomed in orchards of peach and pear, cherry and almond, and extensive cultivations and grass-paddocks surround it. most of the houses are, of course, the usual raupo wharès, but there are carpentered frame-houses in the kainga as well. a wesleyan mission has been established in this place for about a score of years; and an english minister and schoolmaster reside permanently at it. the former has great influence with his flock, who are fervent christians to a man. the latter is bringing up the rising generation to a standard of education that would put to shame many a rural village of the old country. the ariki of the ngatewhatua lives at tanoa. he is between forty and fifty, if as much, a very tall and very portly personage. he is a great man, corporeally certainly, and, perhaps, in other ways as well. arama karaka, or adam clark in pakeha pronunciation, has had more english education than tama, and is altogether of larger mind. nevertheless, we do not feel that we can like him quite so well as our dear old barbarian. arama rules his little community in paternal and patriarchal spirit. he understands the pakeha better than many maoris; and in most things accepts the guidance of his friend, the missionary. he carries on affairs of state in a manner blended of maori and pakeha usages. he is, of course, a politician, and takes a leading part in the local elections. but he adheres to maori customs in their modified and civilized form, and may be called a conservative in such things. arama has a pet theory, on which he often enlarges in picturesque style to such pakehas as he considers as of more than common note. pre-eminent among these is old colonial. indeed, our chum is generally looked upon by the maoris as a sort of chief among the pakehas of the district. his experience and acumen have made him a general referee among the kaipara settlers; and, in all important matters, he is usually the interpreter and spokesman between them and the natives. moreover, he is now the oldest settler in the district; that is, he is not the oldest man, but has been in the kaipara longer than any other pakeha, having come here before any settlement had been made in this part. and so he is an old and intimate friend of the maoris. to him, then, i have heard arama discoursing on his project for the regeneration of the maori race, talking as one chief among men may talk to another. for the ariki is thoroughly aware of the gradual extinction which is coming for his race. he sees and knows that the maori is dying out before the pakeha, and his great idea is how the former may be perpetuated. says he to old colonial, for example, somewhat as follows:-- "oh, friend! what shall be for the maori? where are they now since the coming of the pakeha? the forest falls before the axe of the pakeha; the maori birds have flown away, and strange pakeha birds fly above the new cornfields; the pakeha rat has chased away the kiore; there are pakeha boats on our waters, pakeha fish in our rivers. all that was is gone; and the land of the maori is no longer theirs. god has called to the maori people, and they go. the souls of our dead crowd the path that leads to the reinga. "lo! the pakeha men are very many. it is good that they should see our maidens, and it is good that they should marry them. then there will be children that shall live, and a new race of maori blood. so there shall be some to say in the time to come, 'this is the land of our mothers. this was the land of the maori before the pakeha came out of the sea.' "oh, friend! send your young men to tanoa, that they may see our maidens, and may know that they are good for wives. the mihonere and the kuremata[ ] have taught them the things of the pakeha. it is good that we should cause them so to marry." thus does arama propound his plan for a fusion between the races. still more to further it, he proposes to endow certain young ladies of his tribe with considerable areas of land, in the event of any pakeha--_rangatira_ pakeha--who may be acceptable to the tribe, offering to marry any of them. we have tried to urge the little'un, or the saint, or even o'gaygun into some such match; but they are shy, i suppose, and do not seem to fancy taking "a savage woman to rear their dusky race." yet it would be unfair to call the brunette beauties of tanoa savages. _place aux dames!_ let us get on to consider the ladies. ema, and piha, and ana, and hirene, and mehere; there they are, the pick and particular flower of all that is beautiful, fashionable, young, and _marriageable_ in tanoa. bright and cheerful, neat and comely, pleasant partners at a bush-ball are these half-anglicized daughters of the ngatewhatua. they can prattle prettily in their soft maori-english, while their glancing eyes and saucy lips are provoking the by no means too hard hearts of pakeha bushmen. ah! live in the bush, reader! live and work from month's end to month's end without even a sight of a petticoat, and then go slap into the middle of a "spree" at some such place as tanoa or te pahi. then you would appreciate the charms of our maori belles. under the influence of music and the dance, supple forms and graceful motions, scented hair and flower-wreaths, smiles and sparkling eyes, the graces of nature not wholly lost under the polish of civilization, you would say our maori girls were very nice indeed. and so say all of us, _although_ the saint and the little'un and o'gaygun hold aloof from matrimony--as yet. these maori maidens are not to be thought of as savages. far from it. they can read and they can write, in english as well as maori. they can read the newspaper or the bible to their less accomplished papas and mammas. they can cipher and sew; have an idea of the rotundity of the earth, with some knowledge of the other countries beyond the sea. they are fully up in all the subjects that are usually taught in sunday schools. they can play croquet--with flirtation accompaniment--and wear chignons. oh no! they are not savages. at least, _i_ should say not. but far pre-eminent among the young ladies of tanoa is rakope. she is the daughter of mihake, the nephew and heir of arama, and who is himself a great favourite and good friend of ours. mihake is a jolly, good-tempered kind of man, very knowing in stock and farming matters, and a frequent guest of ours. his daughter, as arama is childless, ranks as the principal unmarried lady of the tribe, and most worthy is she to bear such a dignity. o rakope! princess of the ngatewhatua and queen of maori beauty! how am i to describe the opulence of your charms, your virtues, and your accomplishments? how am i to convey an idea of what you really are to the dull and prejudiced intellects of people in far-off foggy britain? yet have i sworn, as your true knight, o beautiful rakope! to noise your fame abroad to the four corners of the earth, with the sound of shouting and of trumpets! prepare, o reader! with due reverence, with proper admiration, to hear of our maori paragon. for she is a beauty, our rakope; and more, her intelligence amounts almost to what is genius, by comparison with her companions. you can see it in her broad, low brow, in her large, clear, liquid eyes, shaded with their black velvety fringe of lashes. her features may not be good, judged by greek art standards; but what do we care about art and its standards here in the bush? we can see that rakope is beautiful, and we know that she is as good as she is beautiful. her colour is a soft dusky brown, under which you can see the blood warming her dimpling cheeks. her figure is perfection's self, ripe and round and full, while every movement shows some new grace and more seductive curve. her rich brown hair reaches far below her slender waist, and when it is dressed with crimson pohutakawa blossoms, the orange flowers of the kowhaingutu kaka, or the soft downy white feathers that the maoris prize, then it would compel the admiration of any london drawing-room. and what is it in rakope's cheeks and chin, and rare red lips and pearly teeth, that makes one think of peaches and of rosebuds and of honey, and of many other things that are nicest of the nice? away, away with your washed-out, watery venuses, your glassy-eyed junos, your disdainful, half-masculine dianas! away with all your pretended and pretentious beauties of the older northern world! we will have none of them. give us our rakope, our rakope as she is, glowing with the rich warm colour, the subtle delicacies of form, and all the luxuriant beauty that is born between the south sea and the sun! and is she not clever? words fail the schoolmaster when he attempts to sound her praises; for she has learnt nearly all that he can teach her. she is the apple of his eye and the crown of his labours. to hear rakope sing is to believe in the syrens; to chat with her and receive her looks and smiles, to dance with her--ah! she is the pet of the tribe. men and women, girls and boys are never weary of admiring or caressing or spoiling her. she can coax and wheedle her father and arama, mihonere and kuremata alike, to do almost anything she desires, and through them she may be said to reign over the ngatewhatua. she is the delight and darling of all the settlers round. she is the idyll of our shanty, and our regard for her approaches to idolatry. o rakope, rakope! i hope you will some day marry a pakeha rangatira, and endow him with your ten thousand acres; for if you mate with even an ariki from among your own people, your lot will be but a hard one when age has dimmed the brighter glories of your beauty! there was a spree at the township; an event that had been looked forward to by everybody for months past. english people are given to associating the idea of a "spree" with that of a bacchanal orgy. not so we. with us the word is simply colonial for a festivity of any kind, private or public. and whatever may be the primary object of the spree, it is pretty certain to conclude with a dance. on this occasion "the pahi minstrels," who had advertised themselves for long beforehand, were to give a musical entertainment, disguised as niggers. it is, perhaps, unnecessary to explain who these personages were, since it will be remembered that our shanty was given to sending out serenading expeditions. _we_ were the pahi minstrels; having laboriously trained ourselves in a certain _repertoire_, and having been reinforced by one or two other amateur instrumentalists. in the bush a very little is accepted as an excuse for amusement. the public festivities of our district are confined to two events in the year--the otamatea races and the pahi regatta; so that any addition to these is received with unanimous pleasure and applause. our present intention had met with a hearty reception. on the appointed evening, just about sundown and after, there was a grand gathering at the township. all along the beach boats lay drawn up, and the number of people walking about made the place seem quite populous. of course, everybody was there from our own river, and from paparoa and matakohe besides. there were people, too, from the wairoa settlements, from the oruawharo, even from maungaturoto and distant mangawai. our hearts sunk into our boots when we saw the prodigious audience that was assembling to hear our crude attempts at minstrelsy. our maori friends were there in full force. rakope, piha, mehere, and the rest of the girls, a blooming band of native beauty, escorted by a large contingent of their male relatives. all the married settlers round had brought their wives, and--theme of all tongues!--there were actually as many as four young single ladies! this was evidently going to be a spree on a most superb scale. dandy jack fairly beamed with rapture, and the gallant o'gaygun almost burst with the overflow of his exuberant feelings. the scene of the spree was, of course, to be our assembly hall, although every citizen of te pahi township kept open house that night. the assembly hall has been already mentioned, but must now be more particularly described. although the township is all parcelled out into town and suburban allotments, yet, for the most part, it remains in its original bush-covered condition. there is a piece of flat land round the base of the bluff, and this is all under grass; the half-dozen houses of the citizens, with their gardens and paddocks, being here. but all beyond is bush, with a single road cut through it, that leads up and along the range to paparoa and maungaturoto. when it occurred to us as advisable to build a hall, and when we had subscribed a sum for the purpose, a site was selected further along the beach up the pahi. here there is a little cove or bend in the shore, and, just above it, a quarter-acre lot was bought. this was cleared, and the hall built upon it. all around the little patch of clearing the bush remains untouched. a track connects it with the houses on the flat, about a quarter of a mile off; and the beach just below is an admirable landing-place for boats. the hall is simply a plain, wooden structure, capable of containing two or three hundred people. the saint, when describing it in a letter home, said it was "a big, wooden barn with a floor to it." however, we voted this statement to be libellous, and cautioned the saint on the misuse of terms. the pahi town hall is not to be rashly designated with opprobrious epithets. such as it is, it serves us well, by turns as chapel, court-house, music-hall, and ball-room. on the night in question the hall was brilliantly illuminated with candles and kerosene lamps. the benches were filled with an eagerly expectant audience, brown and white, who applauded loudly when the pahi minstrels emerged from a little boarded room in one corner, and took up their positions on the platform at the end of the hall. then, for two mortal hours, there was a dismal and lugubrious travesty of the performances of that world-famous troupe which never performs out of london. but our audience were not captiously critical, and received our well-meant but weak attempts to please them with hearty pleasure and vigorous applause; and when we finally took ourselves off down to the river to wash our faces, every one declared we were a great success, as they busied themselves in clearing the hall for the dancing that was to follow. it is not my purpose to describe the entire spree. i have merely alluded to it in order to record one of its incidents, which may fittingly conclude this brief account of our maori neighbours; moreover, it is an illustration of something i said once before about caste and class prejudices. of the four young english ladies who were present at the spree, three were known to us as the daughters or sisters of settlers in the district. the fourth was a visitor from auckland, who was staying with some friends in the district, and had come with them to the township. miss "cityswell" i will call her, the name will do as well as another. now, it is the praiseworthy custom of settlers' wives in the bush, to ask their unmarried lady friends from the city to visit them as much as possible. there is a dearth of feminine society in the newer districts; and the most insignificant miss, on her travels from house to house up country, receives pretty nearly as much homage and attention as did the queen of sheba on her visit to king solomon. if she be matrimonially inclined--and, to do them justice, our colonial ladies are not backward in that respect--she has an infinite variety of choice among suitors eligible and ineligible. but on that head more anon. every woman is a lady in the bush, and miss cityswell was, of course, no exception to the general rule. we were aware, however, that her father and mother were of the english peasant class, though he had prospered and was now an auckland magnate. she was a fairly educated young woman, passably good-looking; but her head was evidently turned by the attentions of which she was the recipient. certainly, if mannerisms, affectation, vanity, and dress have anything to do with it, her claim to be called a lady was a most emphatic one. auckland city people know little or nothing of maoridom. in fact, the generations born and bred in auckland seem to be as ignorant about the natives as people at home. they never come into contact with them. they see an occasional maori in the streets, or perhaps witness a native canoe-race at the regatta. but as for knowing anything of maori life and character, past or present, that they do not. and they are generally absolutely ignorant of the history of the colony. they are given to looking on the maoris much as people at home regard gypsies--as quite an inferior order of beings, in fact. miss cityswell was naturally imbued with these notions. she regarded the maoris who were present at the spree with sublime contempt and gathered skirts. during the early part of the evening, she confined herself to saying that she thought we took too much notice of our native neighbours. but when it came to the dancing, and when she saw the maori girls making ready to take part in it, then the storm burst. "pray, are you gentlemen actually going to dance with those creatures?" we intimated, mildly, that such was our explicit intention. the lady's indignation was almost too great for words. she regarded us with mingled horror and disgust, replying-- "well, all i can say is, that i shall certainly decline to dance with any gentleman who demeans himself by taking one of those brown wretches for a partner." here was a terrible to-do. expostulations, explanations, entreaties, all alike failed to move miss cityswell's determination. the matter began to assume a darker complexion as we thought it over. under ordinary circumstances, every gentleman present would consider it his privilege to lead out the fair stranger for at least one dance, an honour he would not concede on any account, and would fight and bleed for if necessary. but now we began to perceive that we were between the horns of a dilemma. an eager and excited group of us withdrew to consider the matter. something like _lèse majesté_ must be committed either way, that was apparent. to give up the chance of a dance with miss cityswell was to forego a rare and exquisite moment of ecstasy; and yet, to qualify ourselves for it, we were required to put an insult upon, and to neglect, our beautiful rakope and her sisters. whatever was to be done? dandy jack, o'gaygun, the fiend, and another, in spite of their exuberant gallantry, declared themselves firmly for the belle of the kaipara, _versus_ her white and more sophisticated rival. probably, these gentlemen were actuated by a sneaking expectation that miss cityswell would not be able to hold out against the advances of such magnificoes as themselves, all night. but the saint, yankee bill, and whangarei jim headed a party who were all for the auckland lady. her slightest wish was to them an absolute law, for that evening, at least. they would dance with no one else, look at no one else, speak to no one else, if this heaven-descended apparition so desired it. then there was a party of moderates, represented by little'un, the pirate, wolf, dark charlie, and the member. these were all for a compromise of some sort. and at last they were inspired with a plan that seemed the best that could be done under the circumstances, and that was finally, after much dispute, accepted as our line of action by all parties. it was this. each one of us was to go in rotation and to lead out miss cityswell for a single dance; after that he would be free to devote himself to all and sundry. no one was to dance with any other until he had had his turn with the haughty aucklander. we hoped that such homage to her would appease her pride; while we relied on the good sense of all the other ladies, to put our singular conduct down to a whimsical desire on our part to pay a fanciful attention to a fair visitor and stranger. but there was one factor we had entirely forgotten to reckon. as we were proceeding in a body back to the hall, we met all the maori girls coming out, and a high state of indignation they seemed to be in. some officious person had carried miss cityswell's dictum to their ears, and up went all the brown noses in the air as a consequence. _they_ were not going to stop in the hall to be grossly and gratuitously insulted! no, thank you! if they were not good enough for pakeha men to dance with, they had no further business there! it was time for them to be going home! here was another nice little mess. all the maori girls, from rakope downwards, were as wrathful as such brown darlings could be. they would go straight home at once, they said, and never, never again come to a pakeha spree! and their masculine friends were siding with them, and already making for the boats, though, for the most part, indignantly silent, waiting to see what we would do. several of the pakeha ladies present tried to pacify the outraged maori feeling, but without avail. on the other hand, it appeared that miss cityswell was inwardly somewhat frightened at the turn things had taken, and at the excitement every one was in. she would not move from her silly standpoint, however; but when dandy jack blandly, and with many elaborate compliments, proceeded to lay our proposal for compromise before her, she eagerly grasped at it as an escape from the awkwardness of the situation. so far that was settled, then; but how the maori beauties were to be pacified it passed our understanding to conceive. old colonial was at last discovered behind a flax-bush, deep in a discussion on beet-root sugar-making with a stranger, and wholly oblivious of the row. he was instantly dragged forward into the light, and every one turned to him as the one person who could save our honour and our partners. when the case had been fully explained to him, old colonial's eyes twinkled with fun. "i see my way to square matters," he said, "but you must leave me to do it by myself." he then went down to the beach, where the tanoa ladies were sitting in a group in the moonshine, waiting for the tide to turn before they embarked to return home. he sat down amidst them, and after some desultory chat, and flirtation perhaps, he brought the talk round to miss cityswell and her proceedings. "yes, she's a niceish girl," he drawled meditatively, "rather foolish and ignorant, though, i think. you see, she is a visitor up here, this auckland person; and we are bound to be hospitable and attentive, and to put up with her whims." his auditors assented to this, but intimated that _they_ were not bound to put up with miss cityswell's arrogance, and did not intend to. "of course not," returned old colonial, with a wave of his pipe-hand, as he reclined at rakope's feet; "of course not. but then, you see," and here he glanced cautiously round to make sure that no pakehas were within hearing, "she's not worth thinking about, _not being rangatira_." "oh!" cried rakope, with round open eyes; and "oh!" cried piha and mehere, and all the chorus. "no," continued he, lazily contemplating a smoke-ring in the moonlight; "her father and mother were only kukis, or something not far off it, and she, of course, is not rangatira, not a lady." "oh!" cried rakope and the others briskly, and joyously jumping to their feet, "that alters the case. we thought she was a lady, and were offended at what she said; but as she is not, it does not matter--she knows no better, and what she says is nothing. _we_ are ladies, and don't mind what common persons say or do." so, back to the hall came the whole body, romping and laughing round old colonial, the acute and wise diplomatist, who had made matters straight and pleasant once more. and we, standing in a body near the hall, heard the rippling laughter of the merry band, and saw their white muslin dresses and bright ribbons glancing among the trees. from within the lighted hall came the sound of fiddles and of stamping feet. we forgot all about miss cityswell; we left her to the care of saint and whangarei jim; we forgot the terms of our compromise. we rushed into the bush to meet our partners, as they came up from the beach, with streaming hair and eager eyes. and presently twenty couples took the floor--we pakeha men and the dusky daughters of the land; and old colonial and rakope waltzed fast and furiously at the head. footnotes: [footnote : a battle-axe of polished green jade. one of the most valued of maori possessions.] [footnote : missionary and schoolmaster.] chapter xi. our settler friends. i think i need hardly say that we are not æsthetic here in the bush. in point of fact, we have no sympathy whatever with æstheticism or high art culture. we are, to put it shortly, goths, barbarians, antithetics, what you will. the country is not æsthetic either; it is too young yet to use or abuse intellectual stimulants. there exists among us a profound contempt for all the fripperies and follies of fashion and civilization. we hold these things to be wrong--to be a sort of crime against manhood. in a measure we are puritan; not altogether in a religious sense, but in a moral and social one, certainly. we regard our horny hands with pride, and talk about "honest labour" with something more than a virtuous glow. we are apt to be rather down on city foplings and soft-handed respectabilities. all such people we despise with positively brutal heartiness. when we read of what is doing in london and paris we swell with indignation and contempt. we look upon the civilization we have come out of as no fine thing. life is a serious matter-of-fact business to us, and we hold in stern derision the amenities of more sophisticated communities. i think that we must look upon things at home much in the same light as the norsemen of old did upon the frivolities of rome or byzantium. the spirit of o'gaygun's philosophy pervades the colonial mind a good deal, and, possibly, we may be prone to cultivate it as a means of stifling any regrets we may have after the old life. we are very natural men, you see, very simple and childlike, unused to the artificialities of larger and organized society. our characters have been reformed back to primary essentials; and the raree-show of civilization dazzles and frightens our primitive nervous systems. we may have our little failings, but we ask no pity for them from people whom we so utterly scorn, as we do the denizens of the elder world. art! culture! Ã�stheticism! bah! pouf! away with all such degrading, debasing, dehumanizing trumpery! we are men of a harder, sterner, simpler mould than the emasculate degeneracies of modern england! we are the pioneers and founders of a new britain, of a stronger and purer life! when describing our farm i gave some hint as to the causes which have kept us from building a better house hitherto. some day we shall have one, of course; or, possibly, we shall have more than one, for some of our chums have been showing a tendency towards matrimony of late; and if any of us marry they must have houses of their own, i suppose. we should need a barrack else, you understand, for families _do_ run large out here. some of our neighbours live in very comfortable houses; and by visiting them we are kept from becoming reformed into the uttermost savagery altogether. other people had more capital than we, or spent what they possessed in a different manner. there are those who have laid themselves out to render their homes more in accordance with the taste that prevails among--i had nearly written _decent_ people, but will say worldly instead. they have got nicer domiciles than our shanty; but, then, it takes a woman to look after things. there must be a mistress in a house that is to be a house, and not a--well, shanty, let us say. even old colonial is sensible of that. a frame-house here is built upon exactly the same plan as ours, so far as regard the piles, framework, outside wall and roof; but the plan of it varies much. every man is his own architect, or at least that business lies between him and the carpenter who builds for him. one sees some very singular examples sometimes. rows of isolated rooms connected by a verandah; houses all gable-ends and wings; all sorts in fact. a good house will have the outside walls boarded up and down, with battens covering the chinks, instead of weather-boarding like our shanty. the inside walls and ceilings will be lined with grooved and jointed planking, so as to make the house what is styled bug-proof. there is a broad verandah round the whole or part of the house. there are brick chimneys inside the house, though, as they are usually an item of considerable expense, this is not invariable, and chimney out-puts like ours will be seen not infrequently. there are various rooms, and possibly an upper storey, which may or may not have a balcony above the verandah. it is a common practice to have french windows, opening upon the verandah, instead of doors. such houses can be made very elegant as well as comfortable. they are painted and decorated with carvings outside, and the inside walls may be painted, papered, or varnished. furniture and upholstery of all kinds is, of course, procurable in auckland; so that one can have all the comfort of an english home, if one is able to pay for it. necessarily, the cost of house-building will vary considerably, according to the style and size of residence. a cottage with two to four rooms will cost £ , or less. the average price paid for houses in our district--large roomy houses for prosperous family-men, contracted for with a carpenter, to build, paint, and thoroughly finish off--runs from £ to £ , or something like it. kauri timber is used almost exclusively in the north, so that we may say we live under the shadow of the kauri pine. we keep up the usages of society so far as to pay visits occasionally, especially to houses where there are ladies. you have got to live in a country where petticoats are few and far between, where there is not one woman to twenty or thirty men, as is the case here, in order to thoroughly appreciate the delights of feminine society. people at home don't know how to treat a lady; they are too much used to them. why, there are actually more women than men in england! we treasure our ladies, because they are so rare among us in the bush. good creatures they are, these settler's wives. how kind and benevolent they are to us, to be sure! and how they do delight to "boss" us about! but we like it, we enjoy it, we revel in it. we would lay ourselves down for them to trample on us, and be truly grateful for the attention. that is our loyal feeling towards the married ladies resident in the district. conceive, if you can, how much more extravagant is our gallantry when certain other persons are in question--young ladies whom the irreverent covertly term "husband-hunters!" those good lady dwellers in the bush--how it does delight them to promote the matrimonial felicity of others! how they do enjoy matchmaking! every settler's wife, so soon as she has got over the exclusiveness of honeymoon happiness, does her best to induce her girl friends from the city to come and visit her. she is so lonely, she says--poor thing! no one but her husband, and his neighbours and workmen; her devoted slaves every one of them, but still, all rough men, you know. she pines for a companion of her own sex. oh yes; very much so! it would be a charity, indeed, if dear ada or fanny would come and stay with her a bit. dear ada or fanny is only too glad of the opportunity. she did want to see what the bush was like, for she has never been out of auckland yet, except a trip to the hot lakes, or so. in fact, her school-days are scarcely over yet. and then she is so sorry for her friend's loneliness. it must be dreadful to be isolated in the bush like that. she will certainly come and see her. so miss ada or fanny packs up her box. sweet, amiable creature! she flies to alleviate her friend's hard lot. she constrains her inclinations, and sets out bravely for the bush, solely at friendship's call; for, of course, there is no _arrière pensée_ in her mind. oh no; how could there be? the young lady was not considered exactly a belle in the city, perhaps; but the bush receives her as an incarnation of venus herself. directly she gets beyond the confines of the city, into the rough, primitive, and inchoate wilderness, she finds herself elevated to a rank she never knew before. coach-drivers, steamboat-captains, hotel-keepers treat her with a deference and attention that is quite captivating, rude examples of male humanity though they may be. some settler is introduced, or introduces himself, who is travelling too. he will be delighted, honoured, to be permitted to act as her escort. perhaps he has been deputed by her parents, or by her friend, to look after her. whether or no, he almost suffocates with importance if she graciously accords him permission to act as her courier and footman. other men who are journeying on the roads or rivers somehow become attached to miss ada's luggage. it appears that they are going in the same direction. they say so, at any rate. they form themselves into a sort of bodyguard to look after this wonderful visitant. mysterious dangers, not to be explained, are darkly hinted at, in order that cause may be shown for their attendance. they are necessary as porters to look after her traps, as purveyors to fetch her milk and fruit, and so on. miss ada may not unnaturally be a little timid at first, but she soon gets over that, finding that these big, bearded men are a good deal more timid of her. some of them actually colour up when she looks at them. she discovers that she is a wit; her little jokes being applauded uproariously, and repeated by one of her bodyguard to another. every eye is upon her, gazing at her with undisguised admiration; and every ear is humbly bent to catch the slightest whisper that falls from her lips. really, these bushmen are very nice fellows, after all, in spite of their rough looks. quite different from the affected young fops of the city. as the young lady journeys onward her train swells, like a snowball gathering snow. somehow or other, it seems that the whole district is meditating a visit to the place that is her destination. and everybody is so polite to her, so embarrassingly attentive, and so determined she shall enjoy her trip, that she begins to think the bush is the most delightful part of the habitable globe; while the scenery grows more and more enchanting every minute. by-and-by the end of the journey is reached. the settler's wife comes out to meet her guest, while a long procession files up from the river, actually quarrelling for the privilege of carrying miss ada's various impedimenta. the ladies are embracing and kissing with effusion, to the manifest discomfiture and perturbation of the crowd, who try to look indifferently in opposite directions. "_so_ good of you to come, dear, to these far away solitudes; so _kind_ of you, and so _disinterested_, for i'm sure there's nothing here to attract you in the _least_!" "oh, i think you've got a _charming_ place! and the gentlemen have been _so_ kind. i didn't mind the journey at _all_, i assure you. and, of course, i would come to keep _you_ company, you poor, banished thing!" thus do these innocent creatures chatter to each other in their hypocritical fashion. but the wife just glances slyly at her husband, and he looks guiltily away at the far horizon; for the dear schemer has been making a confidant of him, for want of a better. and miss ada's tail makes itself at home, after the free hospitable manner of the bush. and the men are received with greater unction than ever on the part of their hostess; albeit they profess to have called casually, on some mysterious business or other with her husband. and they are housed for the night, at least, and to each of them separately the good little woman finds an opportunity of saying-- "isn't she a sweet, pretty girl? and such a capital manager, i do assure you. be sure you come up on sundays, and every other day you can spare, while she is with us. it will be so dull for her, you know, coming from all the gaieties of the city!" rumour flies about the country, apprising it of the fact that a young lady visitor is stopping at so-and-so's. the district incontinently throws itself at her feet, and worships beauty in her person. each of the few married ladies round invites the stranger to come and stop with _her_, after a bit, and to lighten _her_ heavy load of solitude, and _her_ craving for a companion of her own sex. and miss ada finds it impossible to refuse these invitations; and so the district entraps her, and keeps her in it. what wonder that when she does return to the city, it is only to make ready for an impending event; for she was really obliged to take pity on one of those poor bachelors, you understand. and the bush is so charming! and she will be near her dear friend! and so--it comes about that there will be one "husband-hunter" the less. one season there had been an entire dearth of lady visitors. in our shanty people were going melancholy mad. the district was losing its charm for us. we had not set eyes upon any young lady of flirtable estate for months and months. old colonial and the saint had taken to making their cattle-hunting expeditions invariably lead them to tanoa; where they said they went to talk to mihake about stock, but where, it was remembered, too, pretty rakope and her sisters dwelt. o'gaygun's conversation was burdened with constant reference to "purty gurls," whom he had seen in former days; and he became so violently attentive to the wife of one of our neighbours, that, we began to think he would have to be seriously expostulated with. dandy jack was restless, betraying less interest than usual in his personal appearance, and talking of going to auckland for a spell. all of us were getting gloomy and dispirited. our life didn't seem to be so glorious a one as usual. but relief came at last. one saturday, the fiend had been over to the township, taking our weekly consignment of butter, and bringing back such news as there was, and such stores as we required. he returned with intelligence that set our shanty in a ferment. a young lady had come up from auckland on a visit! the fiend had found a note at the township, left there for our community generally. it was from the wife of a settler whom we speak of as the member. she informed us that her friend. miss ---- fairweather, let it be, was on a visit to her; and she invited us to go there on sunday, the next day, and whenever else we could. the epistle concluded with some adroit reference to the charms and graces of her guest, conveyed in that vague and curiosity-exciting manner so peculiarly feminine. full parliament of the shanty was instantly summoned, and we proceeded to discuss the matter. it was decided, without opposition, that we should accept the invitation, and should spend the following day at the member's. not a dissentient voice so far as that was concerned. the whole parliament would pay its respects to miss fairweather, somehow or other; no question about _that_. and then we had to take into consideration the important subject of dress. every one wished to make the best appearance he possibly could, and old colonial peremptorily commanded that we should turn out in our best attire. but our best was a poor thing. the common wardrobe of the shanty was overhauled; and it became evident that we were worse off than we had at first supposed. under ordinary circumstances, not more than two or three of us would require a go-to-meeting rig-out at one and the same time. even a full change of garments was scarcely ever called for by the whole party at once. commonly, when going to visit one of our married neighbours, we thought it enough to clean ourselves a bit and put a coat over our shirts; that was all. but something more killing was needful on this occasion; and, to our consternation, we found we had not got a square change of clothes to go round. it was too late to go to the township to buy some additional clothes; besides, we could not afford such extravagances just then. three or four of us might have turned out pretty decently, perhaps, but not the whole crew. and no one would hear of any plan that might keep him at home. we would all go, making shift as well as we could. all other work was at once put aside, and we were soon briskly at it, washing out shirts and trousers. a roaring fire was kindled outside the shanty, for the purpose of quickly drying the cleansed integuments; for, some two or three were reduced to the temporary necessity of draping themselves in blankets, _à la_ maori, while the only clothes they had were being washed and dried. two of the boys had canvas breeches, that were supposed to be white when they were clean. now canvas goes hard and stiff when wet, and is therefore not readily washed. our chums were dissatisfied with the stained and discoloured appearance their nether garments presented, after all the washing they could give them. pipeclay was suggested, but of pipeclay we had none. in lieu of it the boys got some white limestone, which they first calcined, and then puddled up into a paste with water. this mixture they rubbed into the fabric of their breeches. the effect of this could not be very well made out by firelight, and next morning there was no time to alter it if it did not suit. however, the ingenious whitewashes were satisfied. they had what dandy jack called "stucco breeches," which had a dazzling effect at a distance, certainly. the worst of it was that the plaster cracked and peeled off in flakes, and that the four whitewashed legs left visible traces upon everything else they touched. still, we do not go courting every day, you know, and some little variation from conventional routine is excusable when we do. we had all to take to tailoring, sewing, mending, and cobbling. everything we had was tattered and torn; and had to be patched and repaired somehow. we could not confront the gaze of beauty with great rents in our shirts. this was a fearful business, the materials for effecting it being exceedingly limited, and our fingers unused to the work. it was a sight to see o'gaygun, his philosophy and gallantry at war with one another, sewing blue flannel patches on a red shirt, and groaning lamentably over the task. old colonial officiated as barber, and, one by one, we all passed under his hands, he himself being operated upon by the saint. with a pair of wool-shears, and the relics of the common comb, he clipped our flowing tresses close to our heads, reducing the unruly touzles to something like order; and he trimmed our beards to a uniform pattern, such as he considered was neat and becoming. we did not want to look like savages, he said. unfortunately, the saint was not such a good hand at the hair-cutting business, so old colonial looked rather singular, the white scalp showing in patches among his raven curls. but the boss could not see this himself, and no one mentioned the matter to him, out of merciful consideration for the saint. then old colonial manufactured pomatum out of lard and beeswax, scenting it with lemon-peel and a sweet-smelling leaf. this stuff he styled "te pahi brilliantine," and with it he plentifully bedaubed our hair and beards. as a customary thing we never dream of cleaning our boots. it is altogether a waste of time, and it would be entirely useless to do it. moreover, our boots are of rough hide, and not adapted for blacking. we merely scrape the mud off them with a shingle; that is quite enough. but, on this unusual occasion, it was decreed that we should black our boots and leggings. the tide would be full when we started in our boat, therefore we could get on board in the creek; and, not being under the necessity of plodging through the deep mud that is laid bare at low tide, we should reach our destination with passably clean feet. blacking we had none, of course; that had to be made. we did not know exactly how to do it, so we tried various experiments. we prepared charcoal, and we scraped soot out of the top of the stove. we mixed these with kerosene oil, and, as some one said there ought to be sulphuric acid in blacking, we put in some vinegar instead of it. this mess was held to be the most effective, and was consequently used. our foot and leg-gear was ridded of the mud of many weeks, and was smeared with the newly invented blacking. behold us next morning ready to start! a line of nine ruffianly-looking scarecrows, under review by old colonial, head-master of the ceremonies. our shirts are clean, though elaborately embroidered in many colours. our trousers ditto. our boots, whether high ankle-jacks, or lace-ups and leggings, are black, if not polished. each man wears a coat. rather ragged, rather ancient are these coats, originally of very varied kinds. but the etiquette of the bush does not demand much in coats. so long as your shirt is clean and whole, your coat may be a little off colour, so to put it. people are not so particular about the coat. it is an excrescence, not an essential garment like the shirt and breeches. there is one coat short, but dandy jack gracefully waives any claim he might have had, and goes without. he can well do so. such is the force of habit, that, somehow or other, he looks more elegant than any of us. he is even well dressed, as we estimate that condition. it is aggravating, because----but no matter! there is one garment that has been the cause of introducing "hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness" among us. it is a coat of brown hemp-cloth, faced with leather. a coat of english make, with many pockets, such as sportsmen and gamekeepers wear sometimes. it had been thought too good to be used, and had been stowed aside in the library. such as it is, it is the best garment we have got. after much wrangling we had to draw lots for it, and, much to his satisfaction, old colonial acquired the right to wear it. a box of paper collars had been discovered, so our unaccustomed necks are all tightly throttled in them. they do not fit, of course, and have to be fixed up with string and slips of flax; still, the effect is dazzling. the wet had got into the box, however, and a brown patch appears on the left side of each collar. this does for a trade mark, or badge of the shanty. scarves or neckties we have none, nor any substitute or apology for them. our newly-cropped and pomatumed heads are thatched with strangely ancient and weather-worn hats. these are of three general varieties, or were, when they were new. first, come soft felt wide-awakes, broad-brimmed and steeple-crowned, now presenting every diversity of slouch. next, are hats of the same original shape, made of coarse plaited straw or reeds, now very much broken and bent. finally, there are the remains of one or two pith helmets and solar topees. we have striven to make our head-gear look as jaunty and fresh as was possible. we have blacked the hats or whitewashed them, and have stuck feathers and flowers in them to give an air of gaiety to our otherwise sombre and sedate aspect. and thus we stand, while old colonial examines the regiment, giving a finishing touch here and there, where he deems it requisite. then he draws back and proudly surveys us, and, bearing in mind the contrast we present to our customary everyday appearance, he says-- "we shall do, boys! proceed to victory, my pahi lady-killers!" we have a good distance to go, for the member's place is fully twenty miles off; but we have plenty of rowers, and have wind as well as tide in our favour. locomotion by water being our customary means of getting about, we think nothing of the distance, and get over it in fair time. the member's place is a very different style of thing to ours. he has been some years longer here than we have on the pahi; and has had plenty of means to enable him to do as he liked. in former times some of us worked for him, and we are all very good friends. but it is a year or two since most of us visited here, and so we are much struck with the improvement that has been effected since we last saw the place. to begin with, we land upon a little wharf or causeway of planks laid upon piles, which runs out over the mud to low-water mark, and enables people to land or embark at any time, without struggling through the mud first of all. for, on all these rivers, mud is the general rule. shingle and sand appear in places, and there is often a belt of either above high-water mark; but below that, and as far as the ebb recedes, is almost invariably a stretch of greenish-grey sticky ooze. it is in this that the mangroves flourish, and it contains the shell-fish which the maoris largely eat. our boats are usually built flat-bottomed, so that they may be readily hauled up from, or shoved down to the water on the slippery surface of the mud, as may be required. the member's house stands close to the beach, but on a little elevation just above it. it is placed in an irregularly shaped basin, that opens out upon the river. round the basin run low ranges, covered still with their original bush. but all the undulating extent between them and the river, some seven hundred acres or so, is under grass or cultivation. it is all enclosed with a boundary fence of strong pig-proof post-and-rail, and divided off by well cared for hedges, or wire fences. there are other and newer clearings beyond the ranges and out of sight, but here all that is visible is very much trimmer and neater in appearance than our farm. over three parts of the basin the plough has passed. about one-half is under wheat, maize, and other crops, while the grass on the remainder looks wonderfully rich, freed as it is from stumps, drained, and, to a measurable extent, levelled. cattle, sheep, horses, and pigs are feeding in the paddocks. we eye the scene with great admiration, and even envy. this is the sort of thing our farm ought to be, and will be. it is what it might have been already, perhaps, if we had been capitalists. but then we weren't. the member has got beyond the stage where we are still stuck. he is scarcely a pioneer farmer any longer. he has made his home, and a beautiful home it is, though shut out, seemingly, from all the world beside. the ranges, dark with woods, sweep round the fertile fields, the river flows below, and beyond it the untouched virginity of forest is again picturesquely apparent. but we are in a hurry to get up to the house, and so we walk at once from the landing-place. a well-made gravelled path leads up from the waterside, not straight to the house, which is rather to the right, but along a neat paling, which encloses the gardens round it. on the left is an orchard of some extent, within which we see a great many more fruit-trees than we possess ourselves; they have been grown with care, and the varied produce of that fruit-yard would be a mine of wealth in covent garden. beyond the orchard, which is divided from the path by a hedge of orange, lemon, and quince, cut down into a dense shrubbery, we catch a glimpse through the trees of several labourers' cottages, and some barns or wool-sheds. the path is shaded by an avenue of fine trees, very large considering how young they are. among them may be seen english oaks and beeches, american maples and sumachs, spanish chestnuts, australian blue-gums, chinese and japanese trees and shrubs, tropic palms, and some of the indigenous ornaments of the bush. a hundred yards up this avenue, and we pass to the right through a gate in the garden paling. there we find ourselves in enchanted ground, for there is surely no garden in the north, except, perhaps, that of the horticultural society at auckland, which is superior to this. it is beautifully laid out, and to us, fresh from the uncouth barbarism of our shanty and its surroundings, this place seems to breathe of the "arabian nights." and is there not a certain princess within, into whose seraphic presence we are now entering? we inhale a new atmosphere, and tread lightly, almost on tiptoe, speaking unconsciously in whispers, and with the blood running quicker through our veins. the member has money, as i have mentioned, and here, as elsewhere, money is a magician's rod that will work wonders. to the member labour and the cost of it bear other relations than they do to us. he is able to look on life in a different light, and may expend toil on other matters than such as are of bare utility. and he has done so, wisely and lavishly, and so his home is what a home should be in this fair land--an eden of natural beauty. in this garden there are smooth lawns and dainty flower-beds, winding walks and blossomy banks, trellised arbours and shady groves. taste and elegance are manifest all round us, from the scented rosery to the well-kept melon-patch. the rich and splendid hues of countless flowers delight our eyes, while their unwonted sweetness sends a mild intoxication into us with every breath we draw. we pass up to the house along a straight, broad path, smooth and white with shell-gravel. the path divides the garden in a part of its length, and has a hedge on either side. but these hedges are of ornamental rather than useful kind. one is of geranium and the other of fuchsia. here those beautiful plants, which are guarded so carefully in english conservatories, grow into trees in the open air. these geranium and fuchsia hedges are composed of many varieties of both. they are about eight or ten feet in height, and are constantly and carefully pruned to keep down their too exuberant tendencies. they are loaded with blossom, while the fuchsia fruit is a palatable addition to the many dainties of garden and orchard. the house before us carries about it the same air of comfort and ease as the garden, not to speak of elegance. it is a large villa, similar to some of the mansions one may see about colonial cities. of what style its architecture may be i cannot say. it appears to partake of the character, externally, both of a swiss châlet and a norwegian country house. of course, the material of the building is entirely kauri timber, with the exception of the chimneys, which are of brick, and the piles, hidden from sight, which are of puriri wood. there are many angles, corners, gables, wings, and outputs, designed for utility as well as appearance. round the whole house runs a broad verandah, following the irregularities of the edifice. above it is a balcony, forming a verandah for the upper storey, and the high, steep roof extends evenly over this. between the pillars of the verandah is a light rail or trellis, upon which flowering creepers are twined, passion-flowers, with their handsome blossoms and refreshing fruit, conspicuous among them. openings give admittance from the garden here and there; while light staircases connect the upper and lower verandahs outside the house. there has been some care in the ornamentation and finish; suitable carvings and mouldings adding beauty to the general design. the walls are painted white, picked out with green, while the shingled roof, being coloured red, looks passably like tiling. altogether, the member is to be congratulated on his domicile. it is a very different affair to ours. it would be honestly called a mansion in any country. this is the sort of house _we_ intend to have, we say, as we walk up to it. and this is the kind of garden we will have round it, too. o'gaygun sniffs at the flowers with pretended disrespect, and mutters something about "taters" being more useful and to the purpose. but even he is a little quelled by the surroundings, and we hear no more of his barbaric philosophy for a time. still, mark this, there is an air about the place that makes it different from so many old-country habitations. you do not feel that you may look but mustn't touch. you are not reminded that everything is for show, and not for use. there is no primness in the garden. there is an honest degree of orderly disorder, and an absence of formality. you do not feel as if you ought not to walk on the grass for fear of hurting it. there is no artificiality apparent; no empty pretences whatsoever. the house partakes of the same characteristic. it looks homely, and as if it was meant to be lived in. as we reach the verandah we notice a saddle or two carelessly slung over the rail; we see a hammock hung in one corner; and some clothes drying on lines in another. a couple of colley dogs come barking to meet us from their kennels on a shady side; and various other slight details betoken that we are still in the unsophisticated bush. we tramp heavily along the verandah, a formidable gang of uncouth barbarians. old colonial, at our head, gives a gentle coo-ee to intimate our arrival. then out pops our hostess from somewhere. a merry, bright-eyed little woman is she, such as it does one's heart good to behold. she comes forward, with two of her children beside her, not a whit dismayed at the invasion. she gives us a hearty welcome, shaking hands religiously all along our lengthy line. this is one of those women who always make you feel gratified and contented with yourself and all the world, after you have shaken hands with or spoken to her. "magnetic," some people call it. she is every one's sister, and you feel an instinctive affection for her, of that sober and yet warm kind which may be termed loyalty. she is queen in the kaipara; and all of us think it the greatest pleasure in life to obey her behests. chatting gaily, our hostess leads us through an open french window into the drawing-room, and we follow her, with a pleased and yet bashful sense of expectancy. into the drawing-room, mark you! and a real drawing-room, too; not a visible make-believe, like the library in our shanty. this is a large room, furnished as people do furnish their best reception-chamber in civilized lands. pictures hang on the varnished walls; books and book-cases stand here and there; tables loaded with knick-knacks, vases of flowers, workboxes, albums, and so forth; chairs and sofas and lounges; ornaments, statuettes, brackets, and various etcetera, betoken a life of greater ease than that of our shanty. we sit around in an uncouth semicircle, awkward and somewhat ill at ease, for we feel ourselves a little out of place in that room. one cannot live the life that we have lived for years past, without feeling strange and uncomfortable when once again brought within the influence of refinement. so we look at our boots with a sense that our hobnails do not match with the white japanese matting that covers the floor; and we sit on the edge of our chairs just as other rustics would do at home. our hats removed, the results of old colonial's tonsorial operations are made fully apparent. our hostess surveys us with a puzzled air. i think she is struggling with a desire to laugh at the quaint simplicity of the communal wardrobe of our shanty, as it is now displayed on our persons before her. we have been petting the children, and, like other children, these are a trifle too observant. one of them, who is sitting on old colonial's knee, suddenly becomes aware of the state of his poll, and, pulling his beard to attract attention, asks-- "what made you cut your hair off?" old colonial looks across at the saint; and then, catching mrs. member's eye, he and she and all of us go off into peals and roars of laughter. in the midst of this the door opens, we catch sight of another lady entering, and we stumble confusedly to our feet. it is _she_! miss fairweather comes forward, escorted by the member, and followed by a straggling crowd of half a dozen men, similar barbarians to ourselves, who have got here before us. she is a pretty girl, a very pretty girl, would be considered so anywhere. here, in her dainty elegance of costume, to our rude senses she appears almost too beautiful. she dazzles us altogether; we know no longer whether we are standing on our heads or our heels. we are being severally introduced with all due ceremony. the little beauty is not by any means disconcerted at the ordeal; she is evidently used to the position she occupies; used to being regarded with awe as a superior being by ranks and regiments of bearded bushmen. she receives our reverential bows with an amused expression in her blue eyes, and shakes hands with us, one by one, with the air of a princess according gracious favours to her subjects. and a funny little incident occurs. miss fairweather remarks to the little'un that she thinks she has met him before; in auckland, probably. either she is mistaken, or, the little'un has forgotten, and is shamefaced. he blushes the colour of beet-root. his huge frame wobbles in confusion; and, awkwardly trying to shrink out of sight, as his bashful habit is, he steps backward, and plants a giant heel upon o'gaygun's toe. that outraged individual startles the assemblage with the sudden exclamation, "gosh!" endeavouring to extricate himself, he lumbers against the saint and dark charlie, whom he sends flying into a centre-table. the table overturns, of course, and dark charlie's short, thick person sprawls and flounders heavily over it. the ice is now thoroughly broken. the ladies fall into seats, fairly screaming with laughter, and all of us, except the unlucky ones, begin to feel more at home. then mrs. member tells her friend all sorts of wild legends about our shanty, such as obtain among the feminine public of the district. she says we are just a pack of overgrown schoolboys, who are rapidly turning into absolute savages. and they banter us deliciously to their hearts' content. but we are not noisy visitors, you know, on such occasions as these. on the contrary, the ladies do most of the talking, as some of us are absolutely tongue-tied. we can do nothing but sit and gaze at the young lady in our midst with all our eyes. she is a houri straight from paradise, and we poor mortals just get a glimpse from beyond the gate, as it were. then more arrivals keep dropping in by twos and threes, neighbouring settlers and chums of ours. so at last a circle of some thirty more or less rough-looking men form a court about those two ladies. then we go to dinner in another room. most of us dine chiefly off miss fairweather, devouring her with our admiring gaze, listening enraptured to her chat, and pulsating with wild joy if she do but smile or speak to us personally. many can hardly eat anything; they are too love-sick already. after dinner our shyness has disappeared, and our native manhood re-asserts itself. the men of the pahi must not be cut out by rivals from other rivers. they must do all they know to find favour in those beautiful eyes. we go strolling about the place in little knots, admiring the garden, eating fruit in the orchard, visiting the paddocks to see the stock and the crops, and generally enjoying ourselves after our manner. each of our ladies has a little group around her, which goes off separately. the component parts of miss fairweather's immediate train may change from time to time; men may come and men may go, as it pleases her; but the gallant o'gaygun, the devoted dandy jack, the obliging old colonial, and the fascinating fiend are ever hovering around her, deferent, attentive, and adoring. whether she is strolling or sitting, walking or talking, one or all of them seem to be by her side. they will not leave the field open to their numerous rivals, not for one minute, if they know it. how it was managed i cannot tell, but i have the fact on the best authority, mrs. member's in good sooth, that something happened very much. that is to say, my informant tells me that the young lady received no less than sixteen distinct proposals of marriage that day, nearly all of which were renewed on subsequent occasions. it can only have been for the barest fraction of a minute that any gentleman could find himself alone with her. but, whenever any one did get the chance, he must have jumped at the opportunity. you see, it is the custom of the country, of the bush at all events. we have no time for courting, scarcely any opportunity for it. we propose first--marry first if we can--and do the courting afterwards. we have to be spry about these things if we ever intend to get wedded at all. it is the result of competition. a great many men are hungering and yearning for wives, and there are very few girls for them to choose among. so matches are made without very extensive preliminaries. the ladies appear to like this celerity. perhaps they are unwittingly philosophic, and reflect that, with months of courting, they can really know little more of a man than they did the first hour they met him, because he is naturally on his best behaviour then. marriage is a lottery any way you can work it. it is only afterwards that each partner can obtain a true knowledge of the other. and i am bound to say that you will not find better wives or better husbands anywhere, than you will in the bush. so, as i have said, miss fairweather received sixteen offers that day. in point of fact she took all hearts by storm. not a man in the kaipara who would not have laid down and died for her. not a bachelor among us who would not have felt exalted to the seventh heaven if he could have won her for his wife. but i dare say no more on this topic, and no more about the dear little beauty either, lest the too fortunate and ever-to-be envied gentleman, who now calls himself her husband, should come after me with his stock-whip. when the sun has set and evening has come, supper over, we sit in the lamp-lit drawing-room, enjoying the sweet intoxication of the ladies' presence. or we lounge on the verandah outside the open windows, listening to the chat within, hearing around us the whispers of the forest, or the ripple and risp of the moonlit river, gazing at the profound shadows of the wooded ranges opposite, and inhaling the fragrant sweets of the sleeping garden. peaceful and silent is that starlit night in the bush. then, it being sunday, the member gives us service. and as the piano sounds, and we all join in singing the rd psalm-- "in pastures green, he leadeth me, the quiet waters by," i think, that to even the most irreligious or most careless among us, the words, under the influences of our situation, come fraught with homely inspiration. later, we are rowing back home with the tide. but we carry with us renewed hope and energy for our daily toil; for we have had, as it were, a foretaste of what is to be ours, some day, not so very far hence. we, too, shall have a home like that, as a reward for years of toil and hardship. and, god willing, it shall be graced for each of us with a wife like--_her_. chapter xii. a pig-hunt. it is a beautiful morning in march, when an unusually large party assembles at "our shanty." the sun is just rising, and is not yet visible above the sheltering ranges which hem in the central flat that forms the farm. the sky is cloudless, the air still and fragrant with the odours of the awakening woods. day-dawn is always the most beautiful time in new zealand. it is especially so on this occasion, for a few showers had refreshed the thirsty earth on the previous day; and to us, as we emerge from our blankets eager with expectation, all nature seems to wear a fresher and more blooming aspect. half a mile below the shanty rolls the river, broad and blue, while the wooded shore opposite seems scarcely a stone's throw distant. the smoke curls lazily up from the fire within the shanty, where men are breakfasting and girding themselves for the fray. outside on the clearings the hum of the crickets is as yet scarcely perceptible, but a party of turkeys can be seen advancing across the grass in line of battle, commencing their day's onslaught on the insect tribes. cattle and sheep, pigs and poultry, have withdrawn from the immediate neighbourhood of the shanty, and are assembled in groups at a respectful distance, wondering and frightened at the unusual gathering of the human species. for with the sun come settlers and maoris from all sides, some brought by boats and canoes upon the river, some galloping on horseback along the beach, others on foot struggling through the woods and across the ranges on either hand, all converging upon the shanty with shouting salutations, that are responded to with loudly demonstrated welcome. a rough and wild-looking assemblage we are, i make no doubt, yet fitting well into the foreground of the scene, with its rude and incipient civilization insulting the dominant wildness of nature all around. long before the sun has had time to climb above the ranges our muster is complete, and a larger party assembled than a stranger would imagine it possible to gather from so sparsely populated a district. some thirty, settlers and their workmen, are there, together with about twice as many natives. all are equipped for the hunt in the lightest possible marching order--shirt, trousers and belt, boots and leggings, with an apology for a hat to crown the whole--such is the costume; a sheath-knife and tomahawk the weapons; with a store of food, tobacco and matches, to provide against all emergencies--such is the provision. our native allies are attired in much the same guise, only slightly more ragged and dirty--if that be possible--and, generally speaking, barefooted. they are in a state of suppressed excitement, shown by their gleaming eyes and teeth, and in their wild exclamations and gestures. and i must not forget the most important members of the hunting party--the dogs. some two dozen have been collected for the occasion, most of them belonging to maoris; of no particular breed, but all large and heavy, strong-jawed and supple-limbed animals, wolfish-looking fierce creatures, but all more or less trained to the work before them. good pig-dogs are not easily met with, and in the bush they are esteemed a prize. our lot are a scratch pack, made up of any that can be induced to seize a pig, and have weight sufficient to hold on to him; a few are thought to be more experienced and capable. the men, on assembling, mostly go into the shanty to get some breakfast, in the shape of tea, bread, smoked fish and pork, and then straggle about the place, smoking, chatting, and waiting for the order to start. picture the rough grassy slopes, covered with the standing stumps among the new grass, the rude shanty in the middle of the lower ground, as i have described it, the background of bush-covered heights, with the sun just coming up from behind them into the brilliant sky; and people this scene with the groups of men--maori and pakeha, uncouth in appearance as the shaggy cattle that are looking on from a corner of the clearing, or as the clumsy-looking but savage dogs that roam about, or are held in leash by their owners. such is a "meet" in the bush. "rather a different affair from the last meet of the pytchley that you and i rode to," remarks one brawny, blue-shirted and ankle-jacked giant to another, as they squat on a log, comfortably enjoying an early whiff of "venus" from their short, black clays. "what would they say at home, if they could see us now?" replies his friend, pushing back the battered relic of a "topee" from his unkempt hair and somewhat dirty face. truly, the pair would scarcely appear to advantage in an english huntingfield, in their present trim. and now, while the last preparations are being made for the start, let us see what it is we are about to attack. the new zealand wild pig of the present day is the descendant of animals introduced by captain cook and other of the early voyagers from the old countries. these people gave pigs to the natives with whom they opened intercourse, and the maoris, not being used to live stock, lost a good many of their new acquisitions, which ran away into the bush and easily eluded pursuit in its dense coverts. here they bred and multiplied to such a degree that immense droves of them are now to be found in all parts of the islands. in the fern-root and other roots of the bush they find an endless supply of food, which, if it does not tend to make their meat of good quality, at any rate seems to favour an increase in their numbers. whatever may have been the original breed of these animals, the present representatives of the race are neither particularly good-looking or useful. they are lank and lean, with large heads and high shoulders, narrow, spiny backs sloping downwards to the short hind legs; hams they have none. they are thickly covered with bristles, and are mostly black, brown, and grizzled in colour. the mass of them are not large, but the patriarchal boars attain a great size, some of them standing over three feet in height. these fellows have enormous tusks curling on each side of their massive jaws, sharp as razors and strong as crowbars. wild pigs are usually shy, and keep well out of the way of human invaders of their solitudes; but boars have occasionally been known to "tree" some incautious wayfarer, while, when hunted, they become exceedingly ferocious. one of our stockmen, out riding on open ground, was attacked by a boar that suddenly rushed upon him from a thicket; his horse was ripped up in a moment, and he only escaped by nimbly climbing into a tree that was fortunately near. in hunting the pigs it is necessary to go afoot, on account of the density of the bush, and accidents sometimes occur. some dogs are sure to be killed; while now and then a too rash hunter may get the calf of his leg torn off, and might be otherwise injured, even fatally, though i never knew of any case of so grave a nature. settlers regard wild pigs as vermin, only made to be exterminated; and they have, i think, considerable reason for their hatred. the pigs are capable of doing a great deal of damage. fences must be strongly and closely put up to keep them out, and they must be continually examined and carefully repaired when necessary; for one rotten stake in a fence has often been the cause of a loss of great magnitude. in a single night the wild pigs may devastate many acres, if they once gain admittance, and destroy tons of potatoes, maize, or any sort of crop. but there is also another way in which they are prejudicial to the farmer, and peculiarly so to the newer settler. i have said that they are excessively lean and ill-shaped beasts, and i may add that their flesh is not only very tough, but it also has a strong smell, and a peculiarly nauseous flavour. the old pigs, both male and female, are absolutely uneatable in any part, though very young sows are appreciated by the maoris--when they cannot get domestic-bred pork--and are eaten on a pinch by settlers and bushmen, whose vigorous appetites overcome all fastidiousness. pork--fresh and salted, bacon and ham--is the natural and invariable food of the settler. beef and mutton are too valuable as marketable steers, dairy cattle, and wool-growers, and are not so conveniently prepared into keeping forms; hence the pigs he breeds on his clearings are looked upon by the bush-farmer as the regular source whence to draw his household provision in the meat way. now, if the wild boars out of the bush get among the brood sows upon the clearings, the result is deplorably manifest in the next generation, which will display more or less of the evil characteristics of the wild race. thus, both the older farmer and the newest settler are nearly touched, and both unite in a common warfare with the enemy. it is often possible to stalk down and to shoot individual wild pigs on open ground, but that is looked upon merely as a cheerful interlude of sport; it has no deterrent or scaring effect upon the bulk of the droves, and is a waste of time, so far as regards the clearance of a district. a grand and well-organized drive, such as that we are about to see, will often result in not a single wild pig being visible in the district for six months and more afterwards. it is good sport, too; very arduous, since the hunter has to run and scramble through miles of forest. it has in it a good spice of danger, such as britons love, and is, on the whole, pretty popular. pig-hunting may be described as a sort of national sport in new zealand. but here is old colonial issuing from the shanty, and a start seems imminent. the plan of campaign has been arranged between him and mihake tekerahi, the maori, and another settler from a neighbouring river. the straggling groups of men and dogs are divided into three bodies, two of which will proceed to right and left respectively, and the third will go directly "back" from the farm. all the parties will become subdivided into smaller gangs, in the course of the day, but all will converge upon a given point in the bush, which will be the limit of the hunt. the block of land on which we are lies between three large rivers, and, owing to the conformation of the country and the winding of the rivers, its fourth side is a narrow neck of land not more than a mile and a half wide. here there is a very lofty and rugged range, and it is the spot agreed on as our final rendezvous, being some fifteen miles distant from our shanty. besides the men who have met at the farm, there are several parties who will start from more distant places, and who will also make for the range as their terminal point. we hope, by this concentrated drive, to kill as many pigs as possible, and to cause the rest of them to retire beyond the narrow space between the rivers; then the whole of our block will be free from them for some time to come. we have thought of running a fence across from river to river, but the rough nature of the ground, and the absence of suitable material quite close to the required spot, would make this rather too arduous--and therefore too expensive--a work for us to perform just yet, in our incipient stage of settlement. so we content ourselves with an annual hunt on a grand and conjoint scale, and with such minor forays as it pleases individuals to make from time to time. our way at first--i speak of the band which regards old colonial as its chief director--lies up the clearings, through the bush above, and so to the elevated ground behind the shanty. here a halt is called, and our band is again subdivided into two divisions, which are to take along the two ranges that commence from this point, hunting the gullies on both sides of them as they go. then there is a loud fire of coo-ees, to ascertain the position of the brigades that started under mihake and the other man. their answering coo-ees come faintly but clearly out of the distant bush on both sides of us, denoting that they have severally reached their appointed starting places. and now the work begins in earnest. there is a tightening of belts, a putting out of pipes, and a general air of alertness on every face. for a time we go plunging on among the trees and brushwood, encouraging the dogs that are hunting the gullies below with frequent shouts of "hi, there, rimu! go in, shark!" and so forth. we have not yet started any pigs, though here and there we pass tracts of ground ploughed up by them. but, soon, there is a sudden burst of barking from the right, and some of us rush frantically off in that direction. but the loud voice of old colonial is heard calling in the dogs and shouting-- "ware cattle! ware cattle! keep back there, it's red spot's mob!" and presently, with flying tails and tossing horns, a score of great beasts go lumbering and crashing by, pursued by that ill-conditioned shark, who never will remember his duty, and persists in chasing pigs when his business is to be after cattle, and so, to-day, is earnestly and conscientiously driving cattle when he ought to give his mind only to pigs. all the roaring and swearing that goes ringing through the trees only serves to convince shark that he is in the right; and he is only stopped in his wild career by the fortunate fact that the saint, who has lagged far in the rear, steps in the way, cajoles shark into listening to his advice, and, with a big stick and a few of the most gorgeous expletives of which he is eminently the master, persuades the errant hound of his mistake. deep and dire are the maledictions heaved at the unhappy shark, and in which his companions, rimu and toto, wolf and katipo, have unjustly to share. for the row occasioned by the episode has been enough to scare away all the pigs in the district; or, as a maori near me mysteriously phrases it, "make te tam poaka runny kanui far hihi!"--a sentence that i put on record, as a specimen of the verbal excesses to which education may lead the once untutored savage. however, the most knowing may sometimes be mistaken, and so it luckily proves in the present instance, for scarcely have we recovered from our disgust at shark's misconduct, and resumed our hunting operations, than again the canine music breaks merrily out, followed by shouts in a dozen voices of-- "pig! pig! lay up there, dogs! good dogs! lay up there, rimu, rimu, toto! at 'em, boys! at 'em! lay up! pig! pig!" and then the hot excitement seizes upon us all, and, as we hear the unmistakable grunting, squealing, and hough-houghing of pigs, we plunge madly down to the scene of action. it is no time for considering one's steps; we go straight for the point where the noise leads us, crashing against trees, stumbling over logs, regardless of every obstacle. we pitch headlong into holes hidden by treacherous banks of ferns; we swing over little precipices by the help of supple-jacks and lianes; we press through thorny bush-lawyers, heedless of the rags and skin we leave behind us; we splash through mud and water up to our waists; hot and breathless, torn and bleeding, bruised and muddy, we come tumbling, crashing, plunging, bounding down the sides of the gully, mad with the fierce excitement of the moment. a number of pigs are rushing wildly about among the flax and fern-trees, not knowing which way to escape. the dogs are at them gallantly, seizing them by the ears, laying up against them flank to flank, and holding on like grim death. the din is terrific, every one is shouting encouragement to the dogs, or to himself; the pigs are squealing and crying as only pigs can. half a dozen dogs have fastened on to as many pigs, growling and worrying, but holding fast in spite of the twisting and shaking of their prey, in spite of the clashing of tusks and the savage snorting of one or two boars among the drove, in spite of being dragged and scraped through brushwood and timber, keeping always flank to flank with the pigs they hold, like good dogs as they are. i see old colonial bounding on before me, after a huge pig that is dragging the great dog on his ear as a bull-dog would drag a rat in a similar position. the pig heads up the bank, but old colonial is upon him; he grabs at a hind leg and seizes it with both hands. he is down, and is also dragged on his face for a moment; but he still keeps his grip in spite of kicking and struggling; keeps a firm, hard hold, regardless of the bruises and scratches he is getting; never leaves go till he gets his opportunity, till he can put foot to the ground; and then, with one mighty heave, over goes the pig on his back. then triumphantly does old colonial put his knee on the boar's belly, calmly he presses back the snout with one hand, while, in the other, his knife glitters for a moment in the sunshine, and is then driven well home. in another minute, with old colonial's whoop of victory ringing in my ears, i, too, am engaged. a great, heavy sow passes close before me, with katipo tearing at her ear. simultaneously a couple of maoris and myself charge after her. one of them stops behind to tomahawk such of her litter as he can catch; the other man and i hurl ourselves down upon the animal, after chasing her a hundred yards or so among the scrub. i seize at a leg and am thrown violently to the ground, getting a kick in the face that sets my nose bleeding. the maori comes to my aid and gets a hold, and together we are rolled over on the ground. alas! we have not between us old colonial's knack and activity, nor are we endowed with muscles of such steely fibre. we keep our clutch determinedly, desperately, and we are flung and bumped among the tree-roots and brushwood. the pig is screaming like a hundred railway engines; kicking, plunging, stamping, tearing, twisting from side to side in a vain endeavour to rid herself of us, or to get at us with those formidable jaws; shaking katipo--a big mastiff-like cur--about, as a cat would shake a mouse. but still we two men hold on to that hind leg of hers, careless of our hurts, prone on our faces, but straining every muscle to keep the grip. presently we get a chance; together we get our knees upon a log, together we put our backs into the effort, and heave. over she goes. hurrah! on to her at once! sit on her belly and keep her down! never mind the kicking legs in the air! get a hand between the struggling forelegs, gently, along the neck! now then, out with the ready sheath-knife, and dig it in! there! right to the heart, till the blood spurts out over us! hurrah! good! there's another mother of a family the less! and now we may take breath for a minute or two, praise old katipo, and cut off the pig's ears as a trophy. only for the shortest possible minute, though, for the hunt is going on with headlong haste and hurry. we must be up and off after more pigs, and must rejoin the rest of the scattered party, whose shouts may be heard in various directions; there must be no loitering when pigs are near, for _they_ will not wait, we may be sure. as we run and scramble on through the scrub, making way upwards along the gully, we pass several dead pigs at intervals, which show that the rest of the boys have been well employed. presently we come upon the saint, in the midst of a gloomy thicket of birch, sitting astride of a great dead boar, and employed with his tomahawk in endeavouring to chop out the tusks. then katipo discovers a small family of pigs comfortably stowed away among the dense vegetation of a little marshy hollow. these give the three of us some diversion; we manage to kill two of them, and drive out the remainder upwards through the bush. following them up hotly for about a mile, katipo lays hold of one after another, which we turn over and stick as we can, killing two or three more in this way. but the work is very arduous, and the day is wearing towards noon, and is consequently very hot--march being here equivalent to an english september, but much warmer and drier. we are dripping with sweat, our shirts torn and muddied, blood all over us--both pigs' and our own--and we feel well-nigh exhausted for the time being by the tremendous and violent exertions we have been making. after the next pig is finally, and with desperate fighting, slaughtered, there seems to be a general tacit advance towards taking a rest. katipo and another dog that we have picked up have taken to lapping at the creek in the gully, and laying themselves down near the stream, seem inclined for a brief snooze. the two maoris are hacking at some nikaus, and extracting the pith therefrom; and the saint and i think it well to do likewise. after munching away at the refreshing stuff for a considerable while, we guiltily put on our pipes; guiltily, for we know that our earnest leader, old colonial, will persevere with unflagging zeal and untiring energy, and will continue the chase without a moment's cessation. many of the settlers will do the same, though probably but few of the natives, for they have not a fine power of endurance, and it pleases them usually to do things by spurts. however, we are all the better for the temporary relaxation, and pursue our course with renewed vigour. we have now reached the recesses of the heavy forest, after passing through various gradations of lighter bush. here and there, on our way, we have come across stretches of open fern-land; but in this district bush is the most prevalent characteristic of the vegetation. now and then we come upon some gully or flat that has been fired at some previous period, either by maoris or settlers. these old burns are now covered with a dense and uniform jungle of ti-tree second-growth, through which it is often not easy to pass. the cane-like stems of the young ti-tree grow close together, like a field of corn, bearing a feathery green foliage and a white flower, and having a pleasant balsamic odour. high above the soft green surface of the second-growth are lifted the bleached trunks and skeleton arms of dead trees, standing gaunt and grim at intervals among the younger growths below. these ti-tree coverts afford very close harbourage for pigs. in them pigs may hide so well that the hunter might touch them before he saw them; nay, cattle even may hide as closely. through the ti-tree there frequently run narrow paths, or irregular tracks, worn by pigs and cattle; and, as the wayfarer passes along any one of these tracks, he has the pleasant excitement of knowing that at any moment he may come face to face with a boar, in a position where the boar naturally has all the advantage, if he chooses to avail himself of it. in the course of the day our little party makes way onward through the bush, in the direction of the general rendezvous. occasionally we start up pigs, sometimes losing them, and sometimes getting one or two; but the details of the capture and sticking of those we manage to catch do not differ very much from the account already given, except that we have not killed any pigs of particularly large size. about noon, or somewhat after, we make a decided halt for the purpose of getting our dinners, of which we begin to feel very much in need. unhappily, no one has brought a tin pannikin along with him, so we cannot make ourselves any tea; but we light a fire at the bottom of a shady gully, beside some running water, and commence to cook our repast. each man has got his little parcel of bread or biscuit and meat, tied up firmly in flax, and fastened to his belt; but besides this, the bush is affording us other kinds of tucker. katipo killed a kiwi in the course of our morning's hunt, and this bird is now being skinned, cut up, and roasted on sticks. we wish it had been a weka, or bush-hen, as that is more succulent eating; but we have hearty appetites, and will do justice to the kiwi, anyhow. then the maoris have cut out the livers of a couple of young pigs, and these are toasted in strips, and are not such bad eating after all. by way of desert we have some berries from the trees around, that prove very nice. after our appetites are satisfied, and the digestive pipe duly smoked, we resume our hunting operations. but luck is no longer with us, and when, after walking and scrambling for two or three miles, and feeling that the time is fast slipping by, we do come upon pigs, we get separated in the chase that ensues, and i find myself very shortly after that completely alone. i keep walking on, however, in the direction i judge will bring me out upon the place of assembly; and, after an hour or two, i begin to hear sounds of life. i am on somewhat high ground, which gradually slopes downward in the direction i am taking. it is all heavy bush in this part; huge trees, covered with ferns and creepers, soar upwards on all sides. the sunlight falls in patches here and there, through the canopy of branches far overhead, and occasionally there occur little glades and dells and openings, quite open to the light. below the great trees are many smaller ones, among which i notice nikau-palms, cabbage-palms, fern-trees, and tingahere, attracting the eye with their stranger forms. below these, again, is a thick jungle of shrubs of many species, masses of creeping-plants matting the bushes together, or depending from the trees and ferns in infinite profusion and luxuriance. the late afternoon sun is slanting from behind me, so that when its rays shoot through the branches they light up the scenes in front, and thus the picture i presently witness comes before me with proper artistic effect. i hear sounds of life coming through the trees in advance of me--the sounds of men shouting and yelling in excitement; the noise of dogs barking and yelping; and through it and above it all, clearer and clearer heard as i run hastily forward, the horrid hoarse "hough-hough"--that sound so hollow and booming as heard in the "echoing woods,"--with the sharper metallic clashing of savage jaws, that i know can only proceed from some patriarchal boar. a minute later and i come out upon the scene of action. it is a comparatively open glade, surrounded on all sides by the dense forest, and having, near the opposite extremity, a small, abruptly-rising knoll, that is crowned by a single gigantic rata-tree. the little glade is full of unwonted life; nigh a score of the hunting party, and eight or ten dogs, are making things pretty lively within it. the cause of all the uproar and excitement is seen among the spreading and massive roots of the rata; it is a boar, one of the largest any of us ever saw, and he is now "bailed up" below the great tree. to say that he seems as big as a donkey but feebly expresses the apparent size of the beast. his stern is set back against the tree; but the mighty and ferocious head is turned full upon his foes. every bristle on his crest stands erect with rage. the small but fierce eyes take in every movement, and survey dogs and men with desperate and fiend-like animosity. the long snout is pointed straight forward, showing the gleaming teeth below it, while the great tusks, curving up from the jaws, shine like scimitars. nor is the huge brute one moment still; his fore-feet are pawing and tearing at the ground; his head is turned first in one direction and then in another; his whole body is quivering and shaking; foam flies from his grinding jaws; while his continued snorting, with its roaring, bellowing, and shrieking intonations, is horrible to hear. yet as this savage king of the forest stands there at bay, there is a something grand and majestic about him, something of barbaric and unconquerable pride and courage, despite his demoniac and ogre-like ugliness; but, i am afraid, no one sees anything but a big fierce pig, who must be slaughtered as speedily and cleverly as possible. most of the men keep at a respectful distance, not caring to get too close to those formidable tusks; but they are actively employed in shouting and brandishing knives and tomahawks. close in front of the pig, amid a whirling circle of barking dogs, old colonial, o'gaygun, and one or two maoris appear to be performing an exciting kind of war-dance. they are endeavouring to urge in the dogs, and are trying to draw the pig out from among the tree-roots; while, at the same time, they are springing actively about in order to avoid each fancied and expected rush of the boar. but the boar is not to be drawn out from among the high branching roots that protect his flanks and stern. at every near approach of dog or man he feints to charge, lowering and tossing his head, uttering yet fiercer notes of wrath, or tearing up the ground, and sending splinters flying from the tree with blows from his tusks; such threatening movements on his part effectually deterring his foes in their advance. sticks and stones, large and weighty, are hurled at him from all sides. what does he care for such puny projectiles? even a well-aimed tomahawk, that strikes him full and fairly, fails to hurt or penetrate his armour of bristles and tough hide. like achilles, his weak place is in his heels--his rear, and that is well protected behind him. but another foeman to the swinish champion now appears upon the scene. a man, whom i have come close to in the hurry-skurry, suddenly calls to me-- "look at old tama up there behind the tree!" then he shouts in stentorian delight-- "te toa rere, te toa mahuta! go it, tama, old boy! hopu te poaka! jump in and kill him!" looking up at the great trunk of the rata, with its extensive pedestal of gnarled and twisting roots, that for six or eight feet from the ground branch down all round its base, i see peering round the stem, and from above the roots, a face that i know well; it is that of tama-te-whiti. he has made a circuit, got behind the tree, and is now climbing over and among the extended roots, cautiously and silently stealing upon the pig, with intent to drive it out of the cover of the tree. old tama's grey hair hangs loosely over his brows; his elaborate tattooing looks unusually conspicuous; his arms are bare to the shoulder; and, as he gradually draws himself into our view, we see his body is almost bare, except a few fluttering rags of shirt that still remain about him. the other day i saw tama at the township, elaborately attired in black broadcloth and white linen and all the rest of it, looking a perfect picture of smug respectability and aged innocence. now here he is, grasping a tomahawk in his sinewy hand, with a knife held between his teeth, and--albeit 'tis only a boar he is attacking--with a fire dancing in his eyes like that which shone there in his hot youth, when, here in these self-same woods, he and the young braves of his tribe met in deadly conflict with the invading ngapuhi. the boar is unconscious of tama's approach; he is occupied with his adversaries in front, who are redoubling their efforts to attract his attention. and at this moment another of the hunters is seized with an heroic impulse. it has at last come home to the mind of that impetuous and much objurgated dog, shark, that his destiny in life is to be a boar-hound. hitherto, his experience of the manners and customs of pigs has not been great; but the conviction has come to him that he knows all about the business; and, too, he is probably anxious to retrieve his disgraceful conduct of the morning. shark is a fresh arrival on the scene, having just come in with one of the straggling parties. he is not contented to join his canine companions, who are warily waiting their opportunity to dash in on the boar's flanks and rear; but, like all high-couraged and impetuous youth, shark dashes, barking, to the front, and blindly, quixotically, and madly, he charges on the boar. alas! poor dog! great as was his bravery, his size, his strength, what could they avail in such foolhardy strife? one jerk of the black snout, one flash of the white tusks, and, with a last yelping scream, the body of poor shark goes whirling up into the air, and falls a bleeding, bisected, lifeless lump. poor shark! with all his faults, i think we loved him well! but even in his death he is avenged. the boar darted a few feet forward in his onslaught upon shark, and the opportunity has been seized upon. the war-cry of the ngatewhatua goes echoing through the forest, as old tama springs down in rear of the boar; his swinging tomahawk inflicts a gaping wound, and he seizes a hind leg of the pig before that animal can back itself among the roots. other maoris, old colonial, and more of the party rush to his aid. dogs seize on the boar's bleeding ears. for a minute there is a scene of direful confusion, an indescribable struggle in which men, dogs, and pig are mingled in a twisting, shouting, panting, wrestling heap. another dog gets his flank slit up, a man has his legging and trouser torn off his leg, and then the giant brute is conquered. overturned and shrieking, kicking, biting, struggling desperately to the last, till half a dozen knives are buried in his heart. with the slaughter of the monster boar the day's hunt comes to an end. the spot is close to the rendezvous, and most of the parties have arrived, or are not far off. there is an interchange of gossip over the doings of the day among the various groups; and, by-and-by, a count up of the number of pigs killed. ears and tails are produced as vouchers, and about three hundred and fifty pigs, big and little, are thus accounted for, while half a dozen pair of tusks, of more than ordinary size, denote the killing of as many large boars. the tusks from the last slain monster become the property of old colonial, and, gaily mounted in silver, they may now be found among the ornaments of an english drawing-room. but now evening is upon us, and many of the party are tramping homewards in divers directions through the bush. others make their way to a point on one of the rivers, a mile or so from the rendezvous, where boats have been brought up, and whence they will have a long row to their various places. but by far the greater number are too much fagged out with the exertions of the day to move from their present resting-places. so a camp is formed in a suitable spot, and one or two of the least tired set about getting some supper ready, and gather fern for bedding. and when night deepens overhead, and the shadows of the forest fold round us, recumbent forms are stretched around the roaring camp-fire; supper, rude and rough, but hearty, has been eaten, pipes are lighted, and while some are snoring, others are lazily recounting their doughty deeds, and enjoying to the full the well-earned rest that fitly terminates a pig-hunt in the bush. end of vol. i. transcriber's note: italics are indicated by _underscores_, "oe" ligatures have been removed, and small capitals have been converted to full capitals. discrepancies between the detail of the list of illustrations, and the text accompanying the illustrations themselves, have been retained. the list also omits the table of te rauparaha's wives and children, that has been inserted at the end of the book before the map of his and te puoho's raids. it has been transcribed in this version. apparent typographical errors have been corrected. inconsistencies in hyphenation have been retained. an old new zealander [illustration: te rauparaha. after a drawing in the hocken collection, dunedin. frontispiece.] an old new zealander or, te rauparaha, the napoleon of the south by t. lindsay buick author of "old marlborough," "old manawatu" [illustration] whitcombe & tombs, limited london melbourne christchurch, wellington and dunedin, n.z. to s. percy smith, esq., f.r.g.s. "a well-deserving pillar" in the temple of polynesian learning, i gratefully dedicate this book preface i have been constrained to write the story of "an old new zealander" largely to gratify the frequently expressed desire for a more comprehensive sketch of te rauparaha's career on the part of many readers of my former books, in which fitful glimpses of the old chief were given. these references have apparently awakened some considerable interest in the life and times of the great ngatitoan, and although this period of new zealand's history is by no means barren of literature, i am hopeful that there is still room for a volume in which much heterogeneous matter has been grouped and consolidated. there may be some amongst the reading public who will question the need, or the wisdom, of recording the savage and sanguinary past of the maori; but history is always history, and if this contribution serves no other useful purpose, it may at least help to emphasise the marvellous transformation which has been worked in the natives of new zealand since te rauparaha's time--a transformation which can be accounted one of the world's greatest triumphs for missionary enterprise. it may be, too, that some critics will not subscribe to my estimate of the chief's character, because it has been the conventional view that he who refused to part with his own and his people's heritage was destitute of a redeeming feature. owing to the misrepresentation of the early settlers and traders he has been greatly misunderstood by their successors; and they have further added to the injustice by sometimes seeking to measure one who was steeped in heathen darkness by the holy standard which was raised by the founder of christianity. as in the careers of most conquerors, there is much in the life of te rauparaha that will not bear condonation; but in every british community there is a wholesome admiration for resourcefulness, indomitable will, and splendid courage; and, if the succeeding pages serve to balance these high qualities of the chief against his failings, they may assist in setting up a more equitable standard whereby future generations will be able to judge him. in compiling this work i have necessarily had to draw upon many of the existing publications on new zealand, and i now desire gratefully to acknowledge my obligations to their authors. i have also to thank mr. s. percy smith, f.r.g.s., for the kindly interest he has displayed in the progress of my work, and in no less degree must i pay my respectful acknowledgments to mr. h. m. stowell and to mr. j. r. russell for their judicious criticisms and suggestions, whereby i have been assisted in arriving at a correct historical perspective. to mr. t. w. downes, of whanganui, who has enthusiastically co-operated with me in procuring some of the illustrations, and to mr. j. w. joynt, m.a., for his careful revision of the proofs, i am equally indebted, and now beg to tender to these gentlemen my sincere thanks for their assistance. humbly acknowledging the force of carlyle's dictum that "histories are as perfect as the historian is wise and is gifted with an eye and a soul," i now present the result of my last year's labour to the reader. the author. victoria avenue, dannevirke, n.z., _may ,_ . contents page chapter i whence and whither? chapter ii arawa and tainui chapter iii a warrior in the making chapter iv the land of promise chapter v the southern raids chapter vi the smoking flax chapter vii wakefield and the wairau chapter viii the captive chief chapter ix weighed in the balance illustrations portrait of te rauparaha _frontispiece_ _after a drawing in the hocken collection, dunedin_ facing page departure of "the fleet" for new zealand _from a painting by k. watkins, auckland. by kind permission of the artist_ pomohaka passage, kawhia _from a photo by jonston_ burning of the "boyd" _from a painting by w. wright, auckland. by kind permission of the artist_ te arawi pa, kawhia _the point from which the ngati-toa migration commenced_ the memorial tiki, kaiapoi _erected on the site of the pa destroyed by te rauparaha_ gillett's whaling station, kapiti, _by kind permission of miss gilfillan. from a sketch by her father_ monument on massacre hill, wairau _erected by public subscription, . photo by macey_ taupo pa, porirua _after a drawing by g. f. angas_ te rangihaeata _after a drawing by c. d. barraud, esq._ map delineating journeys of te rauparaha and te puoho _at end_ lament on the capture of te rauparaha _composed by hinewhe, and supposed to be sung by te rangihaeata._ i alas! my heart is wild with grief: there rises still the frowning hill of kapiti, in vain amid the waters lone! but he, the chief, the key of all the land, is gone! ii calm in the lofty ship, o ancient comrade, sleep, and gaze upon the stillness of the deep! till now, till now, a calm was but a signal unto thee to rise in pride, and to the fray despatch some martial band in stern array! but go thy way, and with a favouring tide upon the billows ride, till albion's cliffs thou climb, so far beyond the sea. iii thou stood'st alone, a kingliest forest tree, our pride, our boast, our shelter and defence to be. but helplessly--ah, helplessly wast thou plucked sword-like from the heart of all thy host, thy thronging "children of the brave," with none to save! not amid glaring eyes; not amid battle cries, when the desperate foes their dense ranks close: not from the lips of the terrible guns thy well-known cry resounding o'er the heath: "now, now, my sons! now fearless with me to the realms of death!" not thus--not thus, amid the whirl of war, wert thou caught up and borne away afar! iv who will arise to save? who to the rescue comes? waikato's lord--tauranga's chief, thy grandsons, rushing from their distant homes, they shall avenge their sire--they shall assuage our grief. while you, the "children of the brave," still sleep a sleep as of the grave, dull as the slumbering fish that basks upon the summer wave. v depart then, hoary chief! thy fall-- the pledge forsooth of peace to all-- of heaven's peace, so grateful to their god above, and to thy kinsmen twain, by whom was brought us from the portals of the "land of gloom," this novel law of love-- this law of good: say, rather, murderous law of blood, that charges its own crimes upon its foes-- while i alone am held the source whence these disasters rose! an old new zealander chapter i whence and whither? probably no portion of the globe is so pregnant with the romance of unsolved problem as the pacific ocean. for thousands of years before vasco de balboa, the friend of columbus, stood upon the heights of panama and enriched mankind by his glorious geographical discovery, this great ocean and the islands which its blue waters encircle had remained a world in themselves, undisturbed by the rise and fall of continental kingdoms, unknown even to the semi-civilised peoples who dwelt on the neighbouring continental shores. but although thus shut out from human ken and wrapt in impenetrable mystery, we are entitled to presume that during all this period of time nature, both animate and inanimate, had been there fulfilling its allotted part in the creator's plan, though no pen has fully told, or ever can tell, of the many stupendous changes which were wrought in those far-away centuries either by the will of god or by the hand of man. that vast and far-reaching displacements had been effected before the spanish adventurer's discovery of broke this prehistoric silence, there is little room to doubt, for the position and configuration of the island groups are as surely the results of geological revolutions as their occupation by a strangely simple and unlettered people is evidence of some great social upheaval in the older societies of the world. precisely what those geological changes have been, or what the cause of that social upheaval, it would be imprudent to affirm, but there is always room for speculation, even in the realm of science and history, and there is no unreasonable scepticism in refusing to subscribe to the belief that the pacific ocean always has been, geographically speaking, what it is to-day, nor rash credulity in accepting the ruined buildings and monolithic remains which lie scattered from easter island to ponape, as evidences of a people whose empire--if such it can be called--had vanished long before the appearance of the spaniards in these waters. but even if the opinion still awaits scientific verification that the islands and atolls which sustain the present population of the pacific are but the surviving heights of a submerged continent, there is less room to doubt that the dark-skinned inhabitants of those islands can look back upon a long course of racial vicissitude antecedent to the arrival of the spaniards. what the first and subsequent voyagers found was a people of stalwart frame, strong and lithe of limb, with head and features, and especially the fairness of the skin, suggestive of caucasian origin.[ ] although of bright and buoyant spirits, they were without letters, and their arts were of the most rudimentary kind. of pottery they knew nothing, and of all metals they were equally ignorant. for their domestic utensils they were dependent upon the gourd and other vegetable products, and for weapons of war and tools of husbandry upon the flints and jades of the mountains. their textiles, too, were woven without the aid of the spindle, and in much the same primitive fashion as had been employed by the cave-dwellers of england thousands of years before. in the production of fire they were not a whit less primitive than the semi-savage of ancient britain. they thus presented the pathetic spectacle of a people lingering away back in the palæolithic period of the world's history, while the world around them had marched on through the long centuries involved in the bronze and iron ages. but though devoid of these mechanical arts, the higher development of which counts for much in national progress, these people were no sluggards. they were expert canoe-builders, and their skill in naval architecture was only equalled by the daring with which they traversed the ocean waste around them. they were bold and adventurous navigators, who studied the flow of the tides and the sweep of the ocean currents. they knew enough of astronomy to steer by the stars, and were able to navigate their rude craft with a wonderful degree of mathematical certainty. whether their wanderings were in all cases due to design or sometimes to accident, cannot now be definitely affirmed; but there is abundant proof that their voyages had extended from hawaii in the north to antarctica in the south, and there was scarcely an island that was not known and named in all their complex archipelagos. of literature they, of course, had none, but they revelled in oral traditions and in a mythology rich in imagination and poetry, which accounted for all things, even for the beginning of the world and for the ultimate destiny of the soul. being deeply religious and as deeply superstitious, they interpreted natural phenomena in a mystic sense, and pope's lines on the poor indian would have been equally applicable to the ancient maori in polynesia-- "lo! the poor indian, whose untutor'd mind sees god in clouds, or hears him in the wind: his soul proud science never taught to stray far as the solar walk or milky way. yet simple nature to his hope has given behind the cloud-capt hill an humbler heaven; some safer world in depths of woods embraced, some happier island in the watery waste, where slaves once more their native land behold, no fiends torment, no christians thirst for gold."[ ] the cradle of the polynesian race was undoubtedly asia; and to arrive at a clear understanding as to how it became transported from a continental home into this island world it will be necessary to carry the mind back probably more than , years. at that time the dominating section of the human family was the caucasian--fair-skinned, blue-eyed, and revelling in the glory of long, wavy hair. their civilisation, however, like their weapons of chipped stone, was of the most primitive character; but they had advanced sufficiently in the ascending scale of human progress to show that they valued life by paying pious respect to their dead. they preserved the memory of the departed by erecting over their burial-places huge blocks of stone, many of which monuments stand to-day to mark the course of their migrations. and, except possibly a flint axe-head or a rude ornament found deep in some ancient gravel-bed, these megalithic monuments are amongst the most convincing evidence we have of the wide diffusion of the human race in prehistoric times. from the most westerly point in ireland, across the european and asiatic continents, they stretch by the shores of the atlantic and the mediterranean in the former, and the plains of siberia in the latter, until they reach the waters of the pacific. even this wide expanse of ocean proved no insuperable barrier to the onward march of wandering man; for it is by the presence of his stone-building habit in so many of the pacific islands that we are able to construct a probable hypothesis of the process by which polynesia first became inhabited. in the light of modern knowledge, the theory which finds most ready acceptance is that in palæolithic times the caucasian race, being more or less a maritime people, had obtained possession of the coastal districts of europe. as they multiplied and spread, they followed the ocean's edge to the northward, and, as the arctic regions were then enjoying a temperate climate, there was a plenteous and pleasant home for them even in the most northerly part of siberia. but later a drastic climatic change began to take place. the great ice-sheet, which is known to have twice covered northern europe and asia, began to creep down upon the land, driving man and beast before it. impelled by this relentless force, there began a momentous migration of palæolithic man, who swept in hordes southward and eastward in search of a more hospitable home. in course of time a section of these fugitives, travelling across the siberian plains, reached the pacific coast, and here their old maritime spirit reasserted itself. with the pressure of climate behind them, and in their breasts the love of adventure, the sea soon became as much their domain as the land. at first their canoes were of the frailest character; but experience and unlimited opportunity soon taught them the art of constructing safe sea-going craft, which could carry considerable numbers on a course of discovery. the tales of new lands found, and their warm and genial climate, no doubt stimulated the spirit of exploration, so that gradually, and almost imperceptibly, the tide of migration which was flowing from the centre of the continent was drawn across the sea to the region of eternal summer. from somewhere in the vicinity of the japanese archipelago, fleets of canoes set off at various times carrying with them a freight of humanity destined to found a new people in a new land. but, in order to account for the transportation of large numbers of women and children on vessels which, at the best, must have been mainly constructed of reeds, we must assume smaller intervals of ocean than exist now. there are evidences of other kinds that startling geological changes have occurred in this portion of the globe; and this assumption would help to explain feats of travel otherwise apparently impracticable to a rude and poorly equipped people. for how many centuries this stream of venturesome humanity flowed southward no one can tell; but it is safe to assume that great numbers must have taken the plunge into the unknown, some resting by the way, others pushing on to a point beyond the furthest preceding colony, until the main groups of islands were occupied, and outpost after outpost was firmly established. with them these people carried their simple mode of life, their primitive arts and customs, not the least of which was their stone-building habit, which, as already shown, had originated in their desire to perpetuate the memory and preserve the bones of their dead. hence arose in their new home those strange structures of uncemented stone which astonished the early discoverers, and which stand to-day, broken and decrepit relics, like ghostly wraiths from a long-forgotten past. but, whatever its duration may have been, two causes operated to bring this period of migration to a close. the first of these influences was the dispersion of the mongolian race from central asia; the second, the subsidence of the land along the asiatic coast. either of these events would have been in itself sufficient to cut off the supply of emigrants to the islands. the descent of the more warlike mongols from their high plateau would effectually close the inland route across the north of asia to the gentle caucasians; while the sinking of the land-bridge, along which they had been wont to pick their way, would so increase the hazard of the journey that none would care to risk a voyage across the greater stretch of sea. thus the first stratum of the polynesian race was laid by an invasion of european people embarking from asia; and these light-skinned, fair-haired vikings, who were driven out of their ancient home by the descent of the giant glaciers, plunged into the abyss of uncertainty, little dreaming that from their stock would arise a people whose life-story would be, as it still is to some extent, one of the world's unsolved problems. amongst the many features which have seemed to intensify the shroud of mystery enveloping these people is the combination of a dark skin with tall and stalwart frames and a head-form usually belonging to fair races. also the strange stratification of their customs discloses a social condition so contradictory as to amount almost to a paradox. why a dark-skinned race should possess features which find their counterpart in the whites of to-day, or why the most primitive method of obtaining fire--by friction--should be found side by side with highly scientific methods of warfare, especially displayed in the art of fortification, seemed difficult of explanation, until the idea of a second invasion, comprised of dark-blooded people, had been conceived and had taken root.[ ] the theory of a grafting of a dark race on to the caucasian stem which had already been planted in polynesia explains much. it would account for the olive-coloured skin of the present-day natives, and it would provide the reasonable supposition that, being later comers, they would import with them newer ideas and more modern customs, some of which would be adopted in their entirety, others in a modified form. with the advantage of many centuries of contact with neighbouring peoples, they had necessarily learned much of the art of war, which had been quite unknown to the islanders in their isolation. these dark invaders were therefore able to come in the spirit of conquerors; and consequently the masculine arts, such as the making of weapons and the building of forts and canoes, received an impulse which placed them considerably in advance of anything of which the original people had ever dreamed. but the domestic arts would be but little changed, for the reason that the invasion, being one of warlike intent, would be comprised largely of males, the women who were taken to wife after their lords had been vanquished being allowed to retain their old modes of life. hence the methods of twisting threads of fibre, of weaving mats, and of making fire, would remain the same as had been practised by them from time immemorial, while there would be a distinct advance in those arts which came more exclusively within the domain of the males. in two respects, however, these newcomers did not better the condition or raise the standard of art amongst the people with whom they were about to mingle their blood. they introduced neither pottery nor the use of metals. it is therefore clear that the section of the human family to which they belonged had not advanced beyond the stone age when their invasion took place; and this fact helps us to some extent in our inferences as to the period when this second migration commenced and when it terminated. for the direction whence these dark-skinned invaders came we have to rely on a careful comparison of the traditions and genealogies of the present-day people, who have preserved in a remarkable way certain leading facts, which serve as landmarks by which their journeys can still be traced. by the aid of these, the thread of their history has been followed back to a time at least several centuries before the birth of christ, when a dark-skinned people dwelt upon the banks of the river ganges. here, by contact with other races, probably the egyptian and semitic, they acquired that smattering of mythology which, as preserved by the ancient maori, resembled so closely the beliefs still prevalent in many parts of the old world. but although versed in the mysterious philosophy, if such it can be styled, of their time, they were entirely ignorant of the principles of the buddhist religion; and from this circumstance it is fair to deduce that they had left india before gautama, who died in b.c., had commenced his teaching of "nirvana and the law." but when we come to inquire into the causes which operated to inspire this migration, we get little information beyond the explanation commonly given as the root of all polynesian movements, that "great wars prevailed." if this be the true reason why a whole nation should move _en masse_, then it is not unreasonable to suppose that the future polynesians were the defeated people, and were forced by irresistible waves of invasion to abandon their home in india. slowly they were pushed southward and eastward by the more warlike tribes who came down from the north; and as they made their way along the coasts of the malayan peninsula, circumstances, climate, and assimilation with other peoples continued the process of racial modification which had commenced before they abandoned the valley of the ganges. for three hundred years or more they drifted from point to point. we know little more, for there occurs a comparative blank in the story of their journeyings as they moved along the coast of sumatra and down the straits of malacca. in the year b.c., however, we again get a glimpse of them on the island of java. from this point, although their movements are often vague and shadowy, they are never entirely lost to sight. tradition, at this period, speaks of a renowned personage named te kura-a-moo, who "went to the east, to the rising sun, and remained there." to precisely what spot in the east he journeyed is uncertain, but his objective is generally supposed to have been the island of java, which was then known as avaiki-te-varinga. this is the first suggestion of migration which we have in polynesian tradition; and as it corresponds in date with other large ethnic movements which are known to have occurred in the malayan archipelago, it is more than probable that pressure from other invaders compelled the occupation of java, which thus became the parent hawaiki, towards which the maori stands in much the same relationship as does his brother _pakeha_ to the garden of eden. but the same cause which drove these wandering asiatics into java, at a latter period led to its evacuation. and still the movement was in an eastward direction, towards the islands of indonesia, the people as they moved becoming more and more expert in the art of navigation and sea-craft. in view of the scattered nature of the archipelago in which they now found themselves, their voyages became gradually longer, requiring larger canoes and more daring seamanship. they were beginning to leave the beaten path which hitherto had been the common course of the human race--the mountain, the river, and the plain. with them the sea was gradually becoming the broad highway which had to be traversed in order to find fresh resting-places, or to maintain communication with established outposts in more advanced situations. the spirit of the sea-gipsy, which led them to do and dare, was rapidly developing within them, and the knowledge thus born of courage and experience was shortly to prove invaluable to them in carrying to a successful issue their own great policy of conquest. wars and rumours of wars are again heard of, and are given as the underlying cause of the next movement southward from indonesia, the date of which is so uncertain that it cannot safely be defined more strictly than as between the first and fourth centuries. it is unfortunate that we are driven to this loose estimate of time for so important a national event, because it was this final migration which led to the actual entry into polynesia of these dark-blooded wanderers, and if our first hypothesis be correct, to their ultimate fusion with the fair-skinned, stone-building people who had preceded them by many centuries. they had obviously come into contact with strange people and strange animals, for the existence of the former has been preserved in their traditions and the memory of the latter in their fantastic carvings. not the least interesting of their stories is the finding of a fair-complexioned people, whom their fancy has elevated into the realm of fairies, and from whom they claim to have learned the art of net-making. whether these mysterious people, who are said to have laboured only at night and to have vanished when the sun rose, were the original caucasians who, we have supposed, set out from the eastern coast of asia, and who were about to be absorbed by the more virile emigrants from india, or whether they were, as some suggest, a few wandering greeks or phoenicians on the coast of sumatra, we cannot pretend to decide. but, in all its vagueness and fanciful setting, the tradition is interesting, as indicating the existence on their route of a people fairer than themselves, and the fact that they must have come into close personal contact with them. a careful reflection upon the probable circumstances attending the story of how kahu-kura captured one of the fairy's nets inclines us to the opinion that it is the first evidence we have of the contact of the indian branch of the polynesian race with their whiter predecessors. these they would meet in island after island as they moved down the pacific towards fiji, which group they are believed to have occupied about a.d. . like all other dates connected with polynesian migrations, this one can only be approximate, for the people were without any mode of reckoning time, except by reference to ancestral lines. but there is traditional authority for supposing that their descent upon fiji was made in considerable numbers, and that for a time these islands constituted one of their principal colonising centres. whether tonga and samoa were settled from this point seems doubtful; but it is certain from the marvellous stories which find credence in the traditions of this period that an era of extensive voyaging had set in, and that the newcomers began to spread themselves with considerable rapidity from atoll to island and from island to archipelago. these excursions into new realms naturally gave promise of an attractive home amongst the palm-covered islands; and, simultaneously with their policy of conquest and colonisation, they began the absorption and assimilation of the resident people. as the defending warriors were driven out or annihilated, the women of the vanquished were taken possession of by the victors, and their domestic arts were taken with them. this blending necessarily, in the course of many centuries, worked appreciable modifications in the physique and customs of both races, and gave to the world the polynesian people as we know them to-day. a race of stalwarts, long-headed, straight-haired, and brown-skinned, warriors from birth, full of courage, and ardent for adventure, they were not altogether devoid of those higher ideals which make for the elevation of man. they were deeply imbued with a love of poetry, which enabled them to appreciate in a rude way the beautiful in life and to preserve in quaint song and fantastic tradition the story of their wanderings and the prowess of their heroes. they were even enterprising enough to attempt the solution of the marvellous natural phenomena everywhere presented to them, which, to their simple minds, could have no origin except in the intervention of the gods. with a continuous stream of fresh immigrants flowing in from the north to reinforce the southern outposts, the conquest and colonisation of the islands was now only a matter of time. before we come to the period directly connected with our story, some seven hundred years had elapsed, during which every trace and even the memory of the original people had been effaced, and but for their stone monuments, which have withstood alike the shock of invasion and the ravages of time, their very existence would have remained as one of the problems of a forgotten past. but long before this period had been reached, some great ethnic or geographical event had occurred to terminate the further inflow of these invaders from the north. either the movements of the nations upon the asiatic continent supervened to make continued migration unnecessary, or geographical changes in the distribution of land and sea operated to make it more difficult, if not impossible. certain it is that the supply of warriors was effectually cut off, and that at a time before the parent people had learned the use of metals. from this period, down through the ages until the day of their discovery by the spaniards, the gulf which separated them from the rest of the human family remained unbridged, and the polynesians were suffered to evolve their own racial peculiarities and develop their own national spirit, untrammelled by exterior influences. isolated from the rest of the world, they lived in total ignorance of the progress with which other peoples were advancing towards a higher type of human development and loftier ideals of national life. they knew nothing of the growth of science or of art, and they derived no benefit from the stimulating effect of competition, or from the bracing conditions of a strenuous life. nature was bountiful to them in the ease and abundance with which their simple wants were supplied, for it required neither labour nor ingenuity to provide for their daily needs. hence there was little incentive to depart from traditional customs, or to seek more advanced methods than their fathers had learned and applied in that far-off time when they lived on the banks of the ganges. had it been otherwise, the polynesians would not have been found still clinging to their stone clubs and flint axes, while the continental peoples surrounding them had acquired a written language, the use of metals, and the arts of husbandry, pottery, and weaving. the complete absence of these primary evidences of civilisation amongst the islanders gives us the right to assume that they came into the south seas before man had acquired any knowledge of the metallic arts, and that their migration ceased before pottery and the weaving spindle were known. polynesia must, therefore, have been occupied during the palæolithic and neolithic periods of the world's history. from that time down to the spanish era all communication with the surrounding nations was completely cut off, and the polynesians were allowed to sleep the sleep of centuries and to work out their own destiny in the midst of their tragic isolation. as the evolution of the race progressed, there was gradually developed a rude system of tribal government, administered by acknowledged chieftains, who claimed and obtained unquestioned obedience. so, too, victory or defeat became gradually the chief factor in determining the home of each tribe. these tribal boundaries were, however, by no means arbitrary lines of exclusion, and, in fact, there were frequent visits of friendship between the different sections of the race. these voyages necessarily led to a wide knowledge of the southern seas and their archipelagos, and often contributed surprising results. while the sea-captains navigated their canoes with wonderful accuracy, unaided as they were by chart or compass, their vessels were not always under absolute control, and in stress of sudden storm, or influenced by some unexpected current, they were frequently carried far out of their intended course. it is probable that in some such way the first canoes reached new zealand, for it is known that individual vessels had visited these shores long before the historic migration known as "the fleet" left rarotonga in or about the year a.d. the stories brought back by these pioneering mariners excited the cupidity and fired the imagination of the islanders, and when a fleet of several great canoes arrived at rarotonga, and found that group already fully occupied, they decided to set out in search of the strange land which had been dragged from the depths of the sea by the miracle-working maui, and discovered by the great sea-captain kupe.[ ] here they hoped to capture the giant bird, the flesh of which ngahue had preserved and brought back with him, but more than all they were eager to enrich themselves by the possession of the _toka-matie_, or much prized greenstone, the beauty of which they had heard so much extolled. the story of this migration is recorded amongst the classic traditions of the new zealanders: how the arawa canoe came perilously near being lost in a tempest, and descended into the mysterious depths of the whirlpool, te parata; how the crew of the taki-tumu suffered the pangs of starvation; how the kura-haupo suffered wreck; and how, on landing, the crew of the arawa practised the deceit upon the sleeping tainui of placing the cable of their canoe under that of the latter, in order that they might, with some hope of success, set up a claim to first arrival. one by one the canoes reached these shores, the major part of them making land in the vicinity of east cape, thence sailing to the north or to the south, as the whim of the captain or the divination of the _tohunga_ decided their course. in this way they spread to almost every part of the north island, which they found already peopled with the remnants of prior migrations, who were living in peaceable possession. with these the warlike vikings from the pacific fought and contended until they gained undoubted supremacy, thus giving a starting-point to new zealand history by establishing ancestral lines from which all maoris love to trace their descent. these tribes soon became the dominant power in the land. the weaker _tangata whenua_[ ] were subdued and absorbed. their traditions, arts, and customs disappeared, except in so far as they may have unconsciously influenced those of their conquerors. the latter grew in strength and numbers, extending their influence far and wide, as they marched towards the development of their national existence and their final consolidation into the maori race. unto these people was born, about the year , a little brown babe who was destined to become the great te rauparaha, chief of the ngati-toa tribe. [ ] "the distinguishing characteristic of the marquesan islanders, and that which at once strikes you, is the european cast of their features--a peculiarity seldom observable among other uncivilised peoples. many of their faces present a profile classically beautiful, and i saw several who were in every respect models of beauty" (_melville_). [ ] "i found that the natives had not formed the slightest idea of there being a state of future punishment. they refuse to believe that the good spirit intends to make them miserable after their decease. they imagine all the actions of this life are punished here, and that every one when dead, good or bad, bondsman or free, is assembled on an island situated near the north cape, where both the necessaries and comforts of life will be found in the greatest abundance, and all will enjoy a state of uninterrupted happiness" (_earle_). [ ] "it is most certain that the whites are the aborigines. their colour is, generally speaking, like that of the people of southern europe, and i saw several who had red hair. there were some who were as white as our sailors, and we often saw on our ships a tall young man, feet inches in height, who, by his colour and features, might easily have passed for a european" (_crozet's description of the maoris at the bay of islands_). [ ] the knowledge which the polynesians possessed of the southern sea, and their skill as navigators, was such that when "the fleet" set out from rarotonga, they did not go to discover new zealand, but they went with the absolute certainty of finding it. [ ] "man of the land, native, aboriginal." probably these people were a mixture of the melanesian and polynesian types. chapter ii arawa and tainui if the genealogies of the maori race can be relied upon, it may be accepted as a fact that the immediate ancestors of te rauparaha came to new zealand in the canoe tainui, which is said to have been the first vessel of the fleet after the arawa, prepared for sea. by an unfortunate circumstance there sprang up between the crews of these two canoes a fatal rivalry, which repeated acts of aggression and retaliation were continually fanning into open ruptures, even after they had landed and were widely separated on the shores of new zealand. this ill-humour, according to the tradition, was first engendered by tama-te-kapua, the chief of the arawa, depriving the tainui of her high priest, ngatoro-i-rangi, by inviting that renowned _tohunga_ on board his vessel for the purpose of performing some of the all-important ceremonies which the complex ritual of the maori demanded on such occasions, and then slipping his cable and putting to sea before the priest had time to realise that he had been deliberately led into a trap. but this act of treachery on the part of the bold and unscrupulous captain cost him dear, and bitterly must he have repented before the voyage was over his trifling with the dignity of so consummate a master of magic as ngatoro-i-rangi. but that story belongs to the voyage of the arawa. of the voyage of the tainui, under hoturoa, we know little; but presumably she had a comparatively uneventful passage until she touched land at a point near the north-east end of the bay of plenty, which her people named whanga-poraoa, for the reason that there they found a newly stranded sperm-whale. but scarcely had they disembarked than a dispute arose between them and the arawas, who had beached their canoe at a spot close by, as to the ownership of the carcase. the result of the debate was an agreement, arrived at on the suggestion of a tainui chief,[ ] that the crew which had first touched land should be the acknowledged owners of the fish, and to establish the date of arrival it was further agreed that they should examine the sacred places which each had erected on the shore, and on which they returned thanks to the gods for guiding them safely across the ocean. here the ingenuity of the arawa people enabled them to outwit the tainuis. while the latter had built their shrine of green wood, the followers of tama-te-kapua had taken the precaution to dry the poles of their altar over the fire before sinking them into the sand. precisely the same process had been applied to their hawsers, so that when the examination was made for the purpose of determining priority of arrival the arawa temple carried with it the appearance of greater age, and the tainuis, without detecting the trick, conceded the point and yielded the prize to their rivals. [illustration: departure of "the fleet" for new zealand. from a painting by k. watkins, auckland, by kind permission of the artist.] hoturoa then decided to make further explorations to the north, and moved off in that direction with his canoe, to be followed a few days later by the arawa. the tainui skirted the coast, noted and named many of its prominent features as far as the north cape, and then, as the land terminated at this point, the canoe was put about and retraced her course as far south as takapuna.[ ] here a halt was called, and exploring parties were sent out to ascertain if all the district promised was likely to be realised. upon ascending one of the many hills[ ] which mark the landscape in this particular locality, the voyagers were surprised to observe flocks of sea-birds, some flying over from the westward, others wheeling with noisy flight in mid-air. to the experienced eye of the native, who had been bred on the borders of the sea, this circumstance bespoke a new expanse of water to the west. the canoe was once more launched, and on their crossing the wai-te-mata[ ] harbour a critical examination of the eastern shore revealed to the astonished visitors the fact that a narrow portage existed at the head of the tamaki river, over the ridge of which lay another arm of the sea, apparently as wide and as deep as that which they had just entered. in the meantime they had been joined by the tokomaru canoe, and the joint crews decided upon the bold scheme of hauling their vessels over the narrow portage at otahuhu.[ ] the tokomaru was the first to be taken across, and under the guidance of the chiefs she glided with perfect ease and grace over the carefully laid skids into the deep, smooth water. but when the drag-ropes were applied to the tainui, pull as they would, she remained fast and immovable. tradition says that marama-kiko-hura, one of hoturoa's wives, being unwilling that the weary crews should proceed at once upon this new expedition, which the chiefs were evidently projecting, had by her power as an enchantress so rooted the canoe to the ground that no human strength could move it. against this supernatural agency the stalwart boatmen struggled unavailingly, for, although there was a straining of brawny arms, a bending of broad backs, and much vocal emulation, inspired by the lusty commands of those in authority, the charm of the enchantress could not be broken. in this distressful emergency the womanly sympathy of a second wife of the chief was stirred within her, and she, being even more gifted in the art of magic than her sister, chanted an incantation so great in virtue that instantly the spell was loosed and the wicked work of a disappointed woman undone.[ ] the song which was chanted on this memorable occasion has long since been embalmed amongst the classics of the maori, and has become the basis of many another chant which is used while canoes are being drawn down to the sea. "drag tainui till she reaches the sea: but who shall drag her hence? what sound comes from the horizon? the earth is lighting up, the heavens arise, in company with the feeble ones welcome hither! come, o joyous tane! thou leader and provider. here are the skids laid to the sea, and drops the moisture now from marama, caused by the gentle breeze which blows down from wai-hi; but still tainui stays, and will not move. red, red is the sun, hot, hot are its rays, and still impatient stands the host: take ye and hold the rope, and drag with flashing eyes and drag in concert all. rise now the power to urge. she moves and starts, moves now the prow, urge, urge her still." under the exhilarating influence of the singer's musical voice, together with a profound faith in her skill as a mistress of magic, the weary crews once more bent themselves to their task. their renewed efforts were rewarded with success; for with one vigorous pull the canoe was seen to move, and was soon slipping and sliding on her way to the bosom of the bay below.[ ] once fairly launched, the tainui was soon speeding her way to the open sea; and, having successfully crossed the manukau bar, she passed out into the western ocean to battle with adverse winds and tides. evidently, the physical features of this coast were not greatly to the liking of the explorers. unlike the eastern side of the island, there were fewer shelving beaches and favourable landing-places; the predominating aspect was high and abrupt cliffs, fringed with jagged and evil-looking rocks, against which the surf beat with deafening roar. the sea, too, was much more turbulent; so that, after travelling only some eighty miles, the canoe was headed for the sheltered harbour of kawhia,[ ] and there hoturoa and the tribes who accompanied him determined to bring their wanderings to an end. the canoe which had brought them safely over so many miles of open ocean was hauled to a secure spot on the beach, there to await the ravages of decay, the spot where she rested and finally rotted away under the _manuka_ and _akeake_ trees being still marked by two stone pillars,[ ] which the natives have named puna and hani. the next thing was to erect an altar to the gods for having thus far prospered their journey. the spot chosen was that afterwards called ahurei, in memory of their old home in tahiti;[ ] and, doubtless for the same sentimental and patriotic reason, the spot on which the wives of hoturoa first planted the _kumara_[ ] was called hawaiki. with these preliminaries settled, the pilgrims from the east were now faced with the most serious duty of all, to arrive at an equitable division of the new land which was about to become their permanent home. what method of adjudication was employed in the apportionment we cannot now say; but two main divisions mark the final arbitrament. the waikatos occupied the country from manukau in the north to the marokopa river in the south, while the tribe afterwards known as mania-poto occupied a domain which extended from that point to one about two miles south of the mokau river. within these comprehensive boundaries was embraced the acknowledged territory of the numerous sub-tribes; but to only two of these need we refer at this stage, namely, to the ngati-toa, who lived on the shores of kawhia bay, and to the ngati-raukawa, who had settled further inland, in the country of which maungatautari is now the centre. when the tainui people landed on the shores of kawhia and began to spread their settlements throughout the valleys of the district, they did not find, as they might have expected, an empty land. at some time, and by some means, man had already established himself in new zealand, and before the organised migration, of which the tainui was a part, had set sail from rarotonga, the country was already extensively peopled. whether these _tangata whenua_, as the maoris called them, were polynesians like themselves, and the fruits of some of the prior migrations which are known to have taken place, or whether they were a lower order of mankind struggling through the process of evolution to a higher plane of civilisation, is a point which cannot well be debated here. but whatever manner of men they were who lived in the balmy climate of kawhia, they were already well established there in their villages and gardens, and for many generations--perhaps for many centuries--they had been burying their dead in the secret caves which honeycombed the limestone cliffs that rise in beetling precipices sheer from the harbour's edge. although they are generally credited with being a less combative and virile race than the fierce and hardy tribes who came with the fleet, they were not disposed to surrender or divide their estate without a struggle, and hoturoa found that, if he was to become master of kawhia, it could only be as the outcome of a successful war. but kawhia was a country worth fighting for. early travellers through new zealand, who saw it before the devastating hand of man had marred its beauties, speak with eloquent enthusiasm of its extremely picturesque and romantic landscape.[ ] at full tide the harbour shines in the sunlight like an unbroken sheet of silver, in which the green and gold reflections of the surrounding bush are mirrored and magnified. for many miles in length and breadth the sea runs inland from the bay's bar-bound mouth, stretching its liquid arms right to the base of the mountains which encircle the harbour like a massive frame. rugged and picturesque are these mountains, with their cloak of deep verdure, through which huge masses of limestone rock protrude their white faces, suggesting the bastions of some old norman tower covered with gigantic ivy. so marked, in fact, is this resemblance, that the character of the peaks has been preserved in their name--the castle hills.[ ] down the sides of these slopes run innumerable streams, the largest being the awaroa river, which enters the harbour at the north-east end, where the scenery attains its most impressive grandeur. a little to the north-east of kawhia, and over the ranges, lies the broadly-terraced valley of the waipa, and between this district and the harbour stands "an ancient and dilapidated volcano," called pirongia, upon which the evening sun directs its blood-red darts, lighting up its many peaks and towers until they resemble a giant altar raised by some mighty priest. the climate, too, is mild and soft, like that of southern spain, and there the orange and the lemon might bud and blossom with all the luxuriance found in the valleys of granada. such was the home in which the people of the tainui canoe sought to gain a footing, when they abandoned their vessel; but these exiles from far hawaiki were yet to pass through the bitter waters of tribulation before their arms were blessed with success and their claims ceased to be contested. in the quaint language of an old _tohunga_ we are told: "in the days of the ancient times the descendants of those who came in the tainui made war on the people who had occupied the interior of waikato. these people were called te upoko-tioa, and were the people who had occupied the land long before the tainui arrived at kawhia. these people were attacked by those who came over in the tainui. the men they killed, but the women were saved and taken as wives by the tainui. those who attacked these people were of one family, and were descended from one ancestor, who, after they had killed the inhabitants of waikato, turned and made war each on the other--uncle killed nephew, and nephew killed uncle: elder killed the younger, and the younger killed the elder." of the various battles which the tainui people fought during the conquest of their new home we have scarcely any account, beyond vague and general statements of the most fugitive character. these, unfortunately, do not afford us any wealth of detail, the possession of which would enable us to picture in vivid colours the doughty deeds by which the invaders overcame the strenuous resistance of the _tangata whenua_, who maintained the struggle with the desperation of men who were fighting for their very existence. the story of the conquest of kawhia may be regarded as lost in the misty distances of the past, but it is not surprising to discover by shadowy suggestion, such as quoted above, that, after the original inhabitants had been effectually subdued, the turbulent nature of the maori should lead to devastating and sanguinary internecine wars. one of the traditions of the tainui tribes is that they left the south pacific because of a great battle called "ra-to-rua," which originated in a quarrel between heta and ue-nuku; and it would be quite unreasonable to expect that they should suddenly forsake their warlike passions on reaching new zealand, a country in which there was so much to fight for. with the maori war had now become more than a passion: it had become part of his nature; for, through all the long centuries of migration, the story of the race had been one of incessant struggle with other races and with circumstances. they fought their way into the pacific, and were in turn submerged under the tide of a second invasion, which gave to the world a people inured to the hardships inseparable from strife, who had tasted the bitterness of defeat as well as the joys of victory--a proud and haughty race, sensitive to the slightest insult, and so jealous of their honour that they were ever ready to vindicate their fair name before the only tribunal to which they could appeal--that of war. steeped as they had been from birth in this atmosphere of strife, they had grown to expect the clash of arms at every turn, and, as they grew to expect it, they grew to love it. it is small wonder, then, that, when they found their enemies at kawhia and its neighbourhood vanquished, they occasionally turned their hands upon each other, in the attempt to efface some real or imagined wrong. but, fatal to national progress as these inter-tribal wars must have been, they, nevertheless, played an important and valuable part in spreading the maori over new zealand. a tribe defeated in battle was forced to fly before the pursuing enemy, with no alternative but either to appropriate some district still unoccupied or to displace some weaker people, upon whom the burden was cast of again establishing themselves where and as best they could. thus the tide of fortune and misfortune rolled and recoiled from te reinga to te ra-whiti, until an asylum was sought by the last of the refugees even across the waters of cook strait. although we have no accurate information on the point, it is probable that these blood-feuds contributed in no small measure to the ultimate distribution of the tainui people; for their subsequent history is eloquent of the fact that, while they claimed common descent from the ancestral line of hoturoa, this family bond did not prevent hatred and hostility springing up, and at times bathing their country in blood. the first migration, however, of which we have any record did not apparently ensue upon the result of a battle, although a quarrel was its underlying cause. hotu-nui, who was one of the principal chiefs of the canoe, is said to have taken as his wife a daughter of one of the _tangata whenua_, and was apparently living in the same village and on terms of perfect friendship with her people. having been wrongfully accused of an act of petty thieving, he determined to rid the _pa_ of his presence; and so, with one hundred of his immediate followers, he, it is said, moved off towards the hauraki gulf. as the years rolled on, and the systematic exploration of the country began to be undertaken, many similar expeditions, no doubt, went out from the parent home at kawhia, one at least of which was fraught with fateful consequences. a chief named raumati,[ ] whose story has been embalmed in tradition, had taken a band of followers with him and travelled across the island, past rotorua, until he finally came to the shores of the bay of plenty, where his mother's people lived. here he was in the arawa country, and it was not long before he heard that their canoe was lying at maketu, some distance further to the southward. it will be remembered that there had never been good feeling between the tainui and arawa peoples, and raumati determined upon an act which would demonstrate beyond all doubt that he, at least, was not disposed to hold out the olive-branch to arawa. his scheme was to effect the destruction of the great canoe which had brought the hated rivals of his tribe to new zealand. once decided upon, his plan was put into execution with a promptness worthy of a better cause. travelling along the coast from tauranga to maketu, he and his followers arrived at the latter place when all its inhabitants were absent in quest of food. but his trouble was that the arawa had been berthed on the opposite side of the kaituna river, where she had been housed under a covering of reeds and grass to protect her from the ravages of the weather. nothing daunted, however, raumati soon proved that his ingenuity was equal to the desperate circumstances in which he found himself placed. taking a dart, and attaching to the point of it a live ember, he hurled the smoking stick across the water with unerring aim, and, to his intense satisfaction, he saw the firebrand fall in the midst of the combustible material which formed the covering of the canoe. the fire was soon in full blast: the glare of the flames lit up the surrounding country and was reflected in the red glow of the evening sky. the first impression of the people out in the forest was that the maketu _pa_ had been destroyed; but in the morning they were undeceived, for then they saw that it was their beloved canoe which had been burned, and all that remained of her was a heap of glowing ashes.[ ] the unanimous conclusion was that this had been the work of an enemy, and messengers were sent far and wide to acquaint the tribesmen of the fate of the canoe and call them to council upon the subject. at the meetings the debates were long and serious, for the tribe was torn between its desire to live in peace with all men and its natural impulse to revenge the burning of the arawa, which "they loved and venerated almost as a parent." they remembered the injunction which had been given to them by hou when on the point of leaving hawaiki: "o my children, o mako, o tia, o hei, hearken to these my words: there was but one great chief in hawaiki, and that was whakatauihu. now do you, my children, depart in peace, and, when you reach the place you are going to, do not follow after the deeds of tu, the god of war: if you do, you will perish, as if swept off by the winds; but rather follow quiet and useful occupations, then you will die tranquilly a natural death. depart, and dwell in peace with all; leave war and strife behind you here. depart and dwell in peace. it is war and its evils which are driving you hence: dwell in peace where you are going; conduct yourselves like men; let there be no quarrelling amongst you, but build up a great people." these were, no doubt, excellent words of advice, and they expressed a very noble sentiment; but the practical question which they had to determine was whether they could afford to adopt an attitude of passivity while these acts of aggression went on around them: whether they should declare war on account of the destruction of their canoe, or permit the act to pass without notice. this was the problem over which they pondered; and, as they discussed and debated it, "impatient feelings kept ever rising up in their hearts." but at last an end was made of deliberation, the decision of the tribe being in favour of battle as the one and only sufficient means by which they could be compensated for the burning of their canoe. in the words of the old tradition, "then commenced the great war which was waged between those who arrived in the arawa and those who came in the tainui."[ ] [ ] on this occasion hotu-nui is credited with having addressed his people in the following terms: "friends, hearken! ours was the first canoe to land in new zealand before any of you had arrived here. but let this be the proof as to which of our canoes landed first. let us look at the ropes which the various canoes tied to the whale now before us, and also let us look at the branches of the trees which each have put up in building an altar, then the owners of the rope which is the driest and most withered, and of the altar the leaves of which are the most faded, were the first to land on the coast of the country where we now reside." [ ] after the canoe left whanga-poraoa the first stopping-place was at whare-nga, where the crew amused themselves with various games on the beach. to mark the spot, one legend has it, they placed one large stone on top of another, while a second story has it that this monument, which is still existent and is called _pohatu whakairi_, represents one of the crew who was turned into stone. the next point of interest was moe-hau, now known as cape colville. they then landed at te ana-puta, where, it is said, the canoe was moored to a natural arch of rock jutting into the sea. for some reason the anchor was left at a spot between wai-hou and piako, and under the name of _te pungapunga_ (the pumice stone) is still to be seen on the coast by those who are curious enough to look for it. the course was then deflected slightly to the west, and the canoe crossed to whaka-ti-wai and coasted along the mainland past whare-kawa, where, it is said, marama, one of the wives of hoturoa, desired to be put ashore with one of her male slaves. here they were left, and, according to one version of the tradition, it was her misconduct with this slave which prevented the crew dragging the tainui over the portage at otahuhu. the canoe then went on, some accounts say, as far as the north cape, and others seem to imply that she was shortly afterwards put about and, returning into the hauraki gulf, sailed past the islands of waiheke and motu-korea, until land was once more made at takapuna. [ ] now called mount victoria or "flagstaff hill." [ ] waitemata may be interpreted as "the waters of volcanic obsidian," no doubt a reference to the eruptive disposition of mount rangitoto. [ ] otahuhu signifies "ridge-pole." this portage is only , feet long and feet high. [ ] there are different versions of this tradition, some attributing the transfixing of the canoe to marama, others crediting her with releasing it. the version given in the late sir george grey's _polynesian mythology_ has been here adopted. [ ] some authorities are of opinion that the tainui was not taken across the portage at otahuhu (ridge-pole), and they base this contention upon the fact that no traditional marks have been left inside the manukau harbour. all the points of interest which have been handed down, and are remembered, are on the sea coast; and from this circumstance it is argued that the canoe was never in manukau harbour at all. others say that some of the skids of tainui were left at south manukau heads. [ ] as they were passing the mouth of the waikato, the priest of the canoe, noticing that the river was in flood, named it by calling out "_waikato, waikato, kau_." further on, noticing that there were no landing-places, he threw his paddle at the face of the cliff and exclaimed, "_ko te akau kau_" (all sea coast). the paddle is said to be still embedded in the face of the rock, and is one of the traditional marks by which the course of the tainui can be traced. at the entrance of kawhia harbour they ran into a shoal of fish, and the priest gave this haven its present name by exclaiming "_kawhia kau_." another account is that the name comes from ka-awhi, to recite the usual _karakia_ on landing on a new shore, to placate the local gods. [ ] the distance between these stones is feet, indicating the probable length of the tainui canoe. [ ] now called te fana-i-ahurei (or, in maori, te whanga-i-ahurei, the district of ahurei). [ ] the tainui brought the species of kumaras known as _anu-rangi_ (cold of heaven) and the _hue_ or calabash. those planted by marama did not come up true to type, but those planted by whakaoti-rangi, another of the chief's wives, did. [ ] "i reckon this country among the most charming and fertile districts i have seen in new zealand" (_hochstetter_). [ ] the natives call them whenuapo. [ ] his full name was raumati-nui-o-taua. his father was tama-ahua, who is reputed to have returned to hawaiki from new zealand, and his mother was tauranga, a bay of plenty woman. [ ] the date of this incident has been approximately fixed at a.d. , or forty years after the arrival of "the fleet." [ ] "it is to be presumed that raumati's relatives and friends at tauranga made his cause their own, for they met the arawa people somewhere near maketu, where a great battle was fought. raumati's party, though successful at first, were defeated, and their leader killed by the power of _makutu_, or witch-craft, for hatu-patu, the arawa chief, caused a cliff to fall on him as he retreated from the battle, and thus killed him" (_polynesian journal_). chapter iii a warrior in the making in one of the many sanguinary battles of those intertribal wars which raged in old new zealand from this period down to the introduction of christianity, werawera, the father of te rauparaha, was captured, killed, and eaten. the subject of our sketch was at that time a mere child, and the grim old warrior who had made a meal of werawera was heard to remark that, if ever the youngster fell into his hands, he would certainly meet a similar fate, as he would make a delicious relish for so great a warrior's _rau-paraha_. the _rau-paraha_ here referred to was a juicy plant of the convolvulus family, which grew luxuriantly upon the sand-dunes of the seashore, and was largely used by the maori of those days as an article of food. such a tragic association of the child with the plant was never forgotten by his tribe, and it was from this circumstance that he derived that name which has stood paramount amongst maori _toas_[ ] of all time--te rauparaha--the convolvulus leaf. the branch of the tainui people to which te rauparaha belonged was the ngati-toa tribe, who have already been described as occupying the country immediately surrounding the shores of kawhia harbour. like all the other tainui tribes, these people claimed direct descent from hoturoa, the admiral of the canoe; but the ancestor from whom they derived their name was toa-rangatira, and from him te rauparaha was descended in a direct line on his father's side. werawera, however, had married a ngati-raukawa lady, named pare-kowhatu, and this fact, placing a bar sinister across te rauparaha's escutcheon, destroyed in a measure the purity of his pedigree from the ngati-toa point of view, although, as compensation, it gave him an influence with the ngati-raukawa tribe, which in after years carried with it fateful results. the ngati-raukawa people were closely allied to ngati-toa by ties of blood and friendship; for raukawa, the ancestor who gave them name and individuality as a tribe, was related to toa-rangatira, both chiefs being descendants of raka, and through him of hoturoa. this common ancestry gave these two tribes a common interest and sympathy, which were steadily increased by frequent inter-marriages; and to these bonds they appear to have been faithful through all the varying fortunes of their history. conflicts between the ngati-toa and ngati-raukawa tribes were less frequent than was the case with the majority of the tribal families; and when the time came to mould their affinities into a closer union, te rauparaha used this long-standing friendship as the central argument, by which he eloquently sought to convince ngati-raukawa that there was but one destiny for them and for ngati-toa. te rauparaha had two brothers and two sisters, all older than himself; but none of them ever achieved a great position or reputation in the tribe, except perhaps waitohi[ ], who might claim the reflected glory of being the mother of that fiery and volcanic soul, te rangihaeata. this chief, whose life enters largely into early new zealand history, rose to be the fighting lieutenant and trusted adviser of his more famous uncle, and, in these questionable capacities, he was probably the most turbulent spirit who crossed the path of wellington's pioneer colonists. towards them he ever manifested an uncompromising hatred, the one redeeming feature of his hostility being the absolute frankness with which he proclaimed it. unfortunately but little is known of te rauparaha's boyhood. presumably he was brought up by his mother, after his father's death, between the settlements at maungatautari[ ], where he was born about the year , and kawhia, where his father's relatives lived. as he grew in years, the greater part of his time was spent at kawhia with the ngati-toa tribe, by whom he was regarded as a hereditary chief and as one of their future leaders. his influence with ngati-raukawa did not commence until he had attained to early manhood; and the visits which he paid to his kindred at maungatautari during this period had no military importance, and could only be regarded as interchanges of friendship. his sojourns at maungatautari were always welcome, for as a boy he is said to have had a particularly sunny disposition, and to have entered eagerly into all the amusements dear to the heart of maori children of that day. these enterprises frequently led him into mischief, and into those moral pitfalls which beset the path of high-spirited lads. but, for all his boisterous spirits, the boy never failed to pay respect to his elders, and one of the marked characteristics of his nature at this time was his willing obedience to those who were entitled to give him commands. he was even known to have performed services at the request of a slave, whom he might very well have ordered to do his own work, since his birth and breeding placed him far above the behests of a menial. as te rauparaha grew to youth and early manhood he began to display qualities of mind which soon attracted the attention of the leading ngati-toa chiefs; but, strange to say, his mother was the last to discern these exceptional talents in her son, and always maintained that nohorua, his elder brother, was the clever boy of the family. these maternal expectations, however, were not destined to be realised. before the introduction of christianity amongst the maori, it was the custom to assign to a young chief some girl from his own or a neighbouring friendly tribe as his wife. neither of the parties most directly interested in the alliance was consulted, and their feelings or wishes were not considered to have any important bearing upon the question. such a system frequently led to unhappiness and heart-burning, but in the case of te rauparaha, the choice made for him proved to be a happy one, and marore[ ], a girl of tender grace, made him an admirable wife. of her he became extremely fond, and out of this affection arose the first military enterprise which gave him fame and reputation as a leader of men. [illustration: _photo by jackson._ pomohaki passage, kawhia.] as not infrequently happened in maori life, his own people had prepared a great feast for some visiting tribesmen; but when the food which had been collected for their entertainment was distributed to the various families, te rauparaha observed with considerable displeasure that the portion given to marore was of the very plainest, and contained no dainty morsel which she was likely to enjoy. the want of consideration thus shown towards his child-wife preyed upon the young chief's mind, and he speedily determined that, come what might, he would find with his own hand the relish which his friends had failed to provide. accordingly he petitioned those in authority at kawhia to permit him to organise a war party for the purpose of invading the waikato country, where he hoped to take captive in battle some warrior who would make a banquet for his bride. at first his proposals were received with opposition, for the reason that he was himself at this time in delicate health, and it was deemed prudent that he should await recovery before embarking upon so desperate a venture. moreover, the tribe being then at peace with waikato, the chiefs were naturally reluctant to sanction any act which would inevitably embroil them in a quarrel with their neighbours. but the fiery enthusiasm which te rauparaha displayed for his own scheme, and the persistency with which he urged its claims, overcame the resistance of the tribal fathers, who thus acknowledged, for the first time, the strength of the personality with whom they had to deal. armed with this authority, he at once set about marshalling his forces, and his call to arms was eagerly responded to by a band of young bloods equally keen for adventure with himself. the _taua_[ ] made its way safely to the nearest waikato _pa_, where the profound peace prevailing at the time had thrown the defenders off their guard. in the belief that the visitors were on a friendly journey, they invited their advance guard within the walls of the village. soon, however, the error was discovered; and the inhabitants, realising the position, flew to arms with an alacrity which sent the invaders flying through the gate of the _pa_. the impetuous energy of the waikatos, led by te haunga, induced them to push the pursuit a considerable distance beyond the walls of their stronghold; and it was the strategic use which te rauparaha made of this fact that gave him the victory and established his claim to leadership in future wars. owing to the difficulty which he experienced in walking, he had not been able to march with the leaders, but was following with a second division of his men, when he saw, to his dismay, his warriors being chased out of the _pa_. his own force was as yet concealed behind an intervening hill, and, quickly taking in the situation, he ordered his men to lie down amongst the _manuka_ scrub, which grew to the height of several feet beside the narrow track which they had been traversing. he saw that the fugitives would follow this line, in order to rejoin him as speedily as possible, and in this anticipation his judgment proved correct. at full run they swept past, closely followed by the angry waikatos, who, having escaped from one trap, little dreamed how simply they were falling into another. close in his concealment, te rauparaha lay until the last of the pursuing body had rushed by; then, bursting from his hiding-place, he attacked them in flank and rear with such vehemence that they were at once thrown into disorder. the tumult of his assault checked the flight of the ngati-toas, and the waikatos, now wedged in between two superior forces, sustained heavy losses. te rauparaha is credited with having slain four of his opponents with his own hand, and the total killed is said to have numbered one hundred and forty. amongst these was te haunga, the principal chief of the _pa_, who formed a specially valuable trophy in view of the purpose for which the raid had been organised. his body was carried home to kawhia to provide the relish which te rauparaha so much desired for marore. although this attack upon waikato was only one of the many sporadic raids so common amongst the maori tribes, and could not be regarded as a military movement of national importance, te rauparaha had conducted it with so much skill and enterprise that his achievement became the chief topic of discussion throughout the neighbouring _pas_, and, in the words of an old narrator, "he was heard of as a warrior by all the tribes." the fame which he had thus suddenly achieved, and the desire to live up to his reputation, inspired him with a new sense of responsibility, and he became a keen student of all that pertained to the art of war as practised in his day. he was shrewd enough to see the advantages attending military skill amongst a people with whom might was right, and, even at that age, he was ambitious enough to dream dreams which power alone would enable him to realise. he aimed at making the acquaintance of all the great chiefs of the surrounding tribes; and, when it was safe to visit them, he travelled long distances to sit at the feet of these old maori warriors, and learn from them the subtle methods by which fields were won. these journeys gave him a familiarity with the country and the people which was very useful in the disturbed and precarious relations between ngati-toa and the neighbouring tribes. in these warlike excursions, which were as often of an aggressive as of a defensive nature, ngati-toa was not invariably successful. but, even in their defeats, the reputation of rauparaha increased with his years, for he was ever turning to account some new device of tactics or giving some fresh proof of his personal courage. nor did he neglect to cultivate the good opinion of his tribe by generosity in the discharge of his social duties. his bounty was never closed against the stranger; and when he invited his friends to a feast, his entertainment was always of the most lavish kind. even to his workmen he was strikingly considerate. he abolished the practice indulged in by the field labourers of giving a portion of the food provided for them to strangers who happened to arrive at the settlement, by insisting that the kumara-planters should retain their full ration and the strangers be fed with food specially prepared for them. this unconventional liberality speedily created the desired impression,[ ] and became the subject of general remark amongst those who were on visiting terms with the kawhia chief. it even became proverbial, for it was sometimes said of a benevolent maori, "you are like te rauparaha, who first feeds his workmen and then provides for his visitors." reference has already been made to the fact that te rauparaha had been in the habit of making frequent visits to parts of the country distant from kawhia, for the dual purpose of completing his education in the art of warfare and of strengthening his personal relations with influential chiefs, who might be useful to him in future diplomacy. during one of these excursions he had proceeded as far as what is now known as the valley of the thames, in the hauraki gulf, to pay his respects to the chiefs of the ngati-maru[ ] tribe, who were then both numerous and influential in that part of the island. how much he was esteemed by the leaders of this people may be judged by the fact that, when he was about to return, they, amongst other gifts, presented him with a firearm and a few cartridges, his first acquisition of the kind. to us the gift of an old flintlock might seem a trivial circumstance; but to a maori, who was lingering on the fringe of the stone age, such a weapon was a priceless treasure. so dearly were they prized by the natives at this time that only the consideration of warmest friendship could have induced the ngati-maru to part with even one. there was in these rusty and erratic "fire-spears" that which would before long revolutionise the whole system of native warfare; and the shrewdest of the natives saw that the tribe which acquired the largest number of guns in the least time would have an enormous advantage in the field of battle. for some years a few vagrant and adventurous voyagers, together with the more honest whalers, had been making the bay of islands one of their principal rendezvous; and in the desultory trade which had been carried on between the crews and the natives, guns had first fallen into the possession of the nga-puhi tribe. the deadly use which these warriors had made of this new instrument of destruction, in their skirmishes with their neighbours, had so impressed the native mind that forces hitherto well-disciplined were seized with panic when marched against guns, until it was felt by the inland tribes that such weapons were absolutely indispensable to safety or victory.[ ] many of the natives, whose curiosity had been aroused by the novel sights which they had seen on the visiting whalers, had shipped as seamen before the mast in the hope of seeing more of the great world from which the _pakeha_ came. in this way they had been carried to port jackson, where they had witnessed on a more extensive scale the destructive power of the european weapons. owing to the misjudged generosity of the sydney public, some had been able to bring a few muskets back with them, while others had secured hatchets and bayonets, which, fastened on the end of long handles, were soon recognised as weapons vastly superior to the spears and _taiahas_ of their fathers. these discoveries accentuated the desire to replace their obsolete arms with others of a more modern type; and as a result of the excessive demand thus created, the commercial value of a musket rose in the market, until the traders asked, and the maoris willingly gave, as much as a cargo of flax for a single weapon. the effect of this musket-hunger was to change completely the existing relations between the _pakeha_ and maori, going far to remove the estrangement and distrust which had been generated between the two races. up to this time but little respect had been shown to the dark-skinned natives of these far-away islands by the rude sailors who had visited them; and in their contempt for the "niggers" they had been guilty of many outrages which would have staggered humanity, had humanity been able to grasp the full measure of their ferocity.[ ] retaliation, culminating in the murder of marion du fresne and the burning of the _boyd_, followed upon outrage, and hatred, fed by misunderstanding, was daily driving the two peoples further and further asunder.[ ] but the need and the hope of acquiring muskets suddenly changed all this, for the natives now saw that it was necessary to their very existence that they should cultivate the european, in order that they might trade their flax and pigs for guns; while the white man, seeing that he could procure these valuable products at so insignificant a cost, was nothing loath to forget the many injuries which had been inflicted upon his own race. thus the spirit of crime and revenge, which for years had darkened the page of new zealand's history, suddenly disappeared in the eagerness for trade, and in its stead came the spirit of industry, which sent countless natives toiling in the swamps and on the hill-sides, preparing in feverish haste the fibre wherewith they might purchase this new weapon of destruction. this mad rush for muskets did not escape the keen observation of te rauparaha, who saw with unerring precision what its ultimate effect must be. had he been a resident of the east coast there is little doubt that he too would have plunged with enthusiasm into the fatal scramble, trusting to his natural shrewdness and business acumen to secure for him a fair share of the market's prizes. but he was at the outset placed at this disadvantage. his country was on the west coast of the island, where the whalers and traders seldom came; and the ngati-toa, unlike the nga-puhi, had few or no opportunities of holding intercourse with the _pakeha_, from whom alone the coveted muskets could be procured. it was therefore with a heavy heart and sorely perplexed mind that te rauparaha returned to kawhia, for he knew with absolute certainty that so soon as the waikatos succeeded in arming themselves with firelocks it was only a question of time when they would decide to attack him and his people, in satisfaction for many an old grudge. then the day would go hard with ngati-toa, who could only encounter this new invasion with stone clubs and wooden spears. as the result of many years of intertribal wars the country surrounding aotea harbour, to the north of kawhia, had become almost denuded of population. a few inconsiderable _pas_ still remained, but their defenders were so inefficient as to constitute a living invitation to some stronger people to come down and exterminate them. thus it was not surprising that a section of the ngati-mahanga tribe, whose home was at raglan, should, after a successful raid in this quarter, decide to permanently occupy so inviting a district. they immediately attacked and drove out the feeble occupants, and then sat down to enjoy the fruits of their conquest. this act of aggression was hotly resented by te rauparaha, who could not suffer his allies to be buffeted in so unceremonious a manner, and within an incredibly short period of time he had his fleet of canoes on the water carrying a _taua_ to whanga-roa, where he met and decisively defeated ngati-mahanga. the report of this ngati-toa victory soon spread throughout the enemies' domain, and in due course reached the ears of those branches of the tribe living at the mouth of the waikato river, who at once resolved to espouse the cause of their defeated friends. manning seven large canoes, they came down the coast with a well-disciplined force under the renowned leader kare-waho, and landing at otiki, they first demolished the _pa_ there and then passed on to ohaua, whither the fugitives had fled, and delivered their attack upon that stronghold. no decisive result was achieved, as the rupture appears to have been healed before victory crowned the arms of either side, and the invaders were as eager to return as the besieged were glad to see them go. but the peace thus hastily made was as speedily broken, and a series of events was soon to ensue which was fated to have far-reaching results. shortly after the return of the northern raiders a noted waikato warrior, named te uira, came into the disputed aotea territory, and while there varied his sport as a fisherman by killing a stray ngati-toa tribesman. on hearing of this tragedy te rauparaha and a war party promptly went over and retaliated by slaying te uira. though to all appearances strictly within the code of morality which sanctions the taking of a life for a life, the waikato people chose to regard this act as one of treachery, and the magnitude of the crime was measured by the value of the life taken. te uira was a man who had ranked high in their esteem. as a warrior and a leader of men he was a _toa_, indeed, and his death was to them a disaster. they therefore determined that the annihilation of ngati-toa was the only adequate solace for their injured feelings, and on this end they now concentrated their energies. war party after war party was sent over to kawhia, and many desperate battles were fought, out of which ngati-toa seemed to emerge generally with success. but the gloom of impending disaster was gathering round te rauparaha, for the powerful ngati-mania-poto tribe became leagued with waikato against him; and, although he had no difficulty in defeating them singly when they met, their coalition with his old enemy was a more serious matter. stung by a recent repulse at ta-whitiwhiti, they hurried messengers to all their distant friends, and in answer to their call a combined force of , men under te rau-angaanga, father of the more famous te wherowhero, was soon marching against kawhia's diminishing band of defenders. crossing the ranges, they soon fell upon the hiku-parea _pa_, which they invested at the close of the day. during the night half their force lay concealed in ambush, and when the garrison emerged in the morning to give battle to an apparently small body of besiegers they were mortified to find themselves so hopelessly outnumbered and outgeneralled that there was nothing left for them to do but die as bravely as they might. the invaders then marched to attack the great te totara _pa_, where te rauparaha was personally in command, and here again the defenders were driven in before the swift onslaught of the allies. but where his arms had failed him te rauparaha's diplomacy stood him in good stead. he managed to soothe te rau-angaanga into agreeing to a truce, and a temporary peace was patched up, only to be broken by the turbulent temper of the ngati-toa, who saw no impropriety in committing fresh aggressions so soon as their militant neighbours had returned home. the position was thus becoming grave for te rauparaha, and in an effort to stem the threatening disaster he sought to turn to some practical purpose the influence and prestige which he had now gained with the neighbouring chiefs. he suggested to his more trusted friends amongst the maori leaders the need and wisdom of a confederation of all their tribes against the oppression of the waikato people. but, though conducted with consummate tact and skill, these negotiations were destined to be futile. while all were friendly enough with te rauparaha, mutual jealousies existed amongst the other tribes, which destroyed any prospect of that unanimity and cohesion so essential to the success of such a scheme. nga-puhi remembered how ngati-maru had invaded their territory in days of old, and now that they were possessed of muskets they saw a prospect of repaying the debt--a chance much too promising to be lightly thrown away. te heuheu, the great chief at taupo, would not coalesce with ngati-maru, and the arawa still nursed their grudge against tainui. these ancient grievances, which never seemed to die, kept the tribes outside waikato apart, while the fact that te wherowhero had been able to form an offensive and defensive alliance with the blücher of maoridom, te waharoa, so strengthened his position that, after months wasted in fruitless appeal, te rauparaha returned to kawhia more than ever convinced that if his tribe was to be spared the humiliation of defeat, and perhaps annihilation, self-reliance must be the keynote of his future policy. during the next two years ( - ) te rauparaha devoted himself to occasional excursions against waikato, in which he was moderately successful; but his more important operations at this period were directed against the tribes of taranaki. the peculiar ethics of maori warfare were largely responsible for the first of these southern descents upon a people with whom he was now beginning to enjoy considerable intercourse. a marriage had been celebrated between nohorua, his elder brother, and a taranaki lady,[ ] and by way of commemorating the solemnity, a feast on a sumptuous scale had been given to the bridegroom's friends. te rauparaha, with the generosity for which he was at this time remarkable, was not slow to return the compliment, and in the course of a few months he journeyed southward to te taniwha _pa_, where huri-whenua, the brother of nohorua's young wife, lived, bringing gifts of dried fish and other seasonable foods. these social amenities led to still more intimate relations, and at the end of the following kumara and taro harvest the chief of te taniwha proceeded northward in his fleet of canoes on a promised visit to kawhia. a fair wind beating into their triangular sails carried the canoes to within ten miles of their destination, and at the close of day the fleet headed for the shore at harihari. next morning they were met at their camp by te rauparaha and rauhihi, who assured them of a cordial welcome at kawhia and then proceeded overland to prepare their reception. in the meantime a rolling surf had set into the bay where the canoes were beached, and in the operation of launching them several were overturned and their crews nearly drowned. this misfortune, which involved the loss of all the food intended for the feast, angered huri-whenua exceedingly, and he adopted a strange but characteristically maori-like method of seeking balm for his injured feelings. gathering a party of his people together, he set off in pursuit of te rauparaha and his friend, and, attacking them, succeeded in killing rauhihi, but not te rauparaha, who reached kawhia after an exciting chase. his assailants, knowing full well that this unprovoked attack upon their chief would excite the indignation of ngati-toa, retired in haste to their home, which they immediately began to place in a condition of defence against the day when te rauparaha would return to seek satisfaction for the contemptuous disregard of his hospitality and the menace offered to his life. nor were their precautions taken a moment too soon. scarcely had the walls been strengthened and the waihi stream dammed up so as to form a wide lake on one side of the _pa_ than te rauparaha appeared, accompanied by tuwhare,[ ] one of the most celebrated nga-puhi chiefs of his day. this was tuwhare's first visit to the south. he had gladly accepted the invitation to join the expedition, for his purpose in coming to kawhia had been to lead an invasion into taranaki territory, in order to secure some of the valuable mats, for making which the people of that part were widely famed. tuwhare's contingent consisted of not more than two hundred men, but they brought with them something which, at this period, was more to be dreaded than men--the deadly musket. a few of these arms were carried by the invaders, while the defenders had not as yet even heard of or seen them.[ ] the precautions of the garrison had robbed the northerners of all hope of successfully capturing the _pa_ by assault, and so they sat down to besiege it in the most leisurely fashion. for several weeks besiegers and besieged watched each other across the wide lagoon which had been formed by the waters of the waihi. at last te rauparaha and his people, growing weary of the enforced inactivity, sent proposals of peace to huri-whenua. these were accepted, and subsequently ratified, but not before the pride of ngati-toa had been salved by their insistence upon a quaint condition. te rauparaha, recognising that the damming of the waihi stream had been the means of frustrating his plans, demanded that, before the siege was raised, the dam should be removed. the point was conceded and the barrier broken down; and, as the waters rushed back into their bed, the northerners ostentatiously discharged their muskets in token of victory, and "then," says a maori chronicler, "this ignorant people of these parts heard for the first time the noise of that weapon, the gun." the war party remained for some time on amicable terms at te taniwha, and before they had resolved to return home they were importuned to engage in further aggressions by te puoho, of whom we shall hear more anon. this warrior was a man of influence amongst the ngati-tama tribe, who held what has been called "the gate of taranaki"; and it was due to the numerous connections by marriage between the northerners and ngati-tama that the former had been permitted to pass unmolested to the attack upon te taniwha. te puoho now sought recompense for his friendship by enlisting the sympathies of the northern leaders in the redress of his own grievances. he solicited their aid in an attack upon tatara-i-maka _pa_, the home of those who had been responsible for the death of his sister not long before. obedient to te puoho's summons, and eager to secure mats and heads and slaves, the war party marched upon the _pa_, which stood with its terraced ramparts upon the sea-coast eleven miles south-west of new plymouth. seeing the invaders approach, the defenders went out to meet them, and gave them battle on the open space in front of the _pa_; but the sound of the guns, and the sight of men falling as by the hand of some invisible enemy, so terrorised the defenders that their lines were soon broken, and they fled, a demoralised host, back to their stronghold, which was immediately stormed and taken with great slaughter. this incident inspired the following lament, which was composed by one of the taranaki people, in memory of those who fell at tatara-i-maka:-- "sweet is the spring, the september month, when brilliant canopus stands aloft, as i lay within my solitary house, dazed with sad thoughts for my people departed in death like a flash. to the cave of rangi-totohu-- emblem of sad disaster-- they are gone by the leadership of uru, of the fearsome name. 'twas there at the hill of tatara-i-maka the foe advanced in wedge-like form, whilst our gathered people bid defiance at the entrance of the _pa_, where muru-paenga[ ] forced his way-- the army-raiser, the leader-- his was the fatal blow delivered, at the ascent of tuhi-mata: hence i am dried up here in sorrow." from tatara-i-maka the _taua_ moved southwards, attacking mounu-kahawai as they went. this _pa_ was taken under cover of the smoke caused by firing the dry _raupo_ which grew in the neighbouring swamps, and then tapui-nikau was invested. here the defenders, though fighting only with their _rakau maori_, or native weapons, made so gallant a resistance that not even the guns of the invaders could penetrate it. they had filled the fighting towers of the _pa_ with huge boulders and smaller stones, and the branches of the trees which overhung the trenches were lined with men, who handed the missiles to those best able to drop them upon the enemy as they swarmed round the walls.[ ] changing their tactics, the invaders drew off to a position which closed all communication with the _pa_, and at the same time gave them complete control of the surrounding country, so as to prevent the possibility of succour reaching the beleaguered _pa_. it was during the respite from active hostilities thus secured that there occurred one of those strange incidents which, though common enough in maori warfare, appear so anomalous in the light of european custom. te ratutonu, one of the defending chiefs, had been so conspicuous in repelling attacks that his gallantry and skill in arms became the subject of universal admiration throughout the northern camp. but not alone upon the men had his bravery made its impression. rangi topeora, te rangihaeata's sister, had witnessed his prowess, and, charmed by his handsome figure and manly strength, had been seized with a desire to have the hero for her husband. when the clash of arms had ceased, she persuaded her uncle, te rauparaha, to have ratutonu "called," a ceremony which was performed by some one approaching the beleaguered _pa_, and under a guarantee of safety, inviting the warrior into the camp. ratutonu obeyed the summons, and came down from the _pa_ to meet topeora; and to her he was married after the orators had delivered themselves of speeches rich in eulogy of their new-found kinsman, and full of admiration for the virtues of his bride.[ ] this unexpected union had raised a hope in the breast of the defenders that the rigour of the siege would now be relaxed, and that peace would be made as a fitting sequel to the romantic nuptials. in this they were, however, doomed to disappointment, for the nga-puhi, knowing that the food of the _pa_ must be failing, would listen to no suggestion of compromise. but, moved by a more generous impulse, ngati-awa, the taranaki section of the allies, entered into secret communication with the garrison, and finally arranged that the defenders should be allowed to pass through their lines by night and escape to the neighbouring hills. next morning, great was the excitement in the camp when it was discovered that there was neither smoke ascending from the fires nor sound from the ramparts of the _pa_. the enemy had slipped from under their very hand; had flown from under their very eyes; and, as ngati-awa kept their own counsel, there was not a trace to show or suggest how the trick had been accomplished. nothing, therefore, remained for the outwitted besiegers to do but avail themselves of what plunder had fallen into their hands, and make the best of their way back to their homes. upon the return of the _taua_ to kawhia, its composite forces separated and departed to their respective districts, but not before the plans of a still more extensive campaign had been discussed. these operations, however, did not commence for a year, and, in the meantime, the seriousness of his position in relation to the waikato people was more than ever apparent to te rauparaha, whose inability to come into contact with the whalers, and the consequent difficulty he experienced in becoming possessed of muskets, brought him much "darkness of heart." but, as he meditated, his anxiety of mind was to some extent relieved by the arrival at kawhia of the northern portion of the war party, the raising of which had previously been agreed upon. in accordance with this arrangement, tuwhare, accompanied by patuone, and his brother, that picturesque figure in maori history, tamati waka nene[ ]--whose influence and eloquence were subsequently to be so powerfully used to secure the acceptance by the natives of the treaty of waitangi--left hokianga in november, , and proceeding by a circuitous route which embraced the country of the waitemata, reached the home of te rauparaha, and found there a force of four hundred men waiting to welcome them. [illustration: burning of the "boyd." from a painting by w. wright, auckland, by kind permission of the artist.] accredited estimates give the strength of the combined contingents at fully one thousand men, and they were armed with a greater number of muskets than had ever previously been carried into the field by any maori organisation. a further distinction was the presence of many leaders whose deeds were to be deeply imprinted upon the records of maori history. each tribal section was under chiefs who are acknowledged to have been amongst the classic warriors of their time; so that, in the matter of skilful direction and heroic example, the _taua_ might consider itself more than usually fortunate. the primary purpose of the expedition appears to have been no more than a love of adventure and a desire to kill and eat a few of their enemies; but embraced within this scheme was a secondary motive, which involved the redress of a grievance which te puoho had acquired against the whanganui people, whom he considered accountable for a slight put upon his daughter. the friendly relations which prevailed between ngati-toa and ngati-tama ensured the war party an uncontested passage through "the gate of taranaki"; and, although ngati-awa assembled to oppose them, they were satisfied to desist, upon te rauparaha consenting to pay the tribute of ownership by requesting permission to pass through their territory. the first important halt was made at manu-korihi, on the north bank of the waitara river, where a stay of some length was made for the purpose of finally determining the order of their plans. the manu-korihi people became deeply interested in the muskets which the visitors had brought with them; and curious to observe their effect--at the expense of some one else--they persuaded te rauparaha and his friends to commence hostilities against the famous puke-rangiora _pa_, whose inhabitants had been guilty of some cause of offence. the invitation to attack the great stronghold was accepted with alacrity; but when the war party presented themselves before the walls, they found it so strongly fortified and so keenly defended that discretion dictated a less valiant course, and so they passed puke-rangiora, and went over the mountain track to te kerikeringa in search of a meaner enemy. this _pa_ was a central point in the system of defence set up by ngati-maru, who had established populous settlements and made great clearings in the forest east of the present town of stratford. their great fighting chief was tutahanga, who in former days had subdued the pride of both the waikato and the nga-puhi. now he was old, but his martial bearing was still such that, when the invaders inquired of their guides how they might distinguish him from those of inferior rank, they were told, "he is a star." graced by the red plumes of the tropic bird, the northerners moved up to the attack, but were met with so stout a resistance by the defenders, who had donned the white feathers of the sacred crane, that, in spite of their muskets, their combination broke, and they retired in disorder to the western slopes, where they were compelled to resort to the tactics of a regular siege. from these heights, which dominated the _pa_, they were occasionally able to shoot down an unwary defender who exposed himself to their fire; but they did not rely entirely upon this method of fighting to effect their conquest. frequent assaults were made upon the gateway, in one of which they succeeded in shooting tutahanga, and in another patu-wairua, his successor in command. before his death, patu-wairua, persuaded that the _pa_ could not hold out much longer, desired to make peace if possible; but his conciliatory views were overruled by the less diplomatic leaders of the tribe. patu-wairua then sat down and sang a lament for his people, whose impending fate he deplored with all the affection of a father. in the next sally he was killed in the fore-front of the fighting line, bravely sustaining the unequal contest, in which the _mere_ was matched against the musket. with their two great leaders gone and many of their tribesmen dead, a feeling of depression settled down upon the garrison, whose position was daily growing less secure. but while they were sinking under the weariness begotten of incessant vigilance, a maori-like episode occurred, in which the arts of the women were employed to do that in which the stalwart arms of the men had failed. as a last device, the ngati-maru generals hit upon the idea of sending all the young women of the _pa_ into the camp of the invaders, to beguile the warriors with their charms, and so induce them temporarily to relax the severity of the siege. history does not record the fate of these maidens of te kerikeringa; but they deserve at least a certain immortality. for during the diversion thus caused the _pa_ was silently evacuated, the survivors of the siege making their escape across the waitara river along the tara-mouku valley, and through the dense forest which stretched for many miles into the heart of the island. the tidings that kerikeringa had fallen spread with such rapidity that, before the rejoicings of the victors had concluded, the tribes to the southward had succeeded in concealing themselves within their mountain fastnesses. consequently we hear of no conflicts with ngati-ruanui or nga-rauru, as the victorious _taua_ passed over the old forest track which leads out into the open country near the town of normanby. this peaceful passage was not interrupted until they reached the whanganui river, where they found the resident tribes drawn up in battle array to oppose them at the turua _pa_. this _pa_ was situated on the eastern bank of the river, a little above the present town of whanganui; but, in reaching it, the northerners were faced with a serious initial difficulty, inasmuch as they had no canoes of their own, and te anaua, of whanganui, had taken the precaution to remove his flotilla to the opposite shore. but the ingenuity of tuwhare and te rauparaha was equal to an emergency of that kind. ordering their men into the neighbouring swamps, they employed a month in cutting dry _raupo_ leaves, out of which they constructed a _mokihi_ fleet, and on these vegetable rafts the whole force was eventually transported across the wide and deep river. the capture of the _pa_ was a work of no great difficulty; for here, as elsewhere, the muskets exercised their terrifying influence upon natives coming into contact with them for the first time. southward the march was once more directed, and skirmishes followed with ngati-apa in the whangaehu and rangitikei districts. no protracted fighting was possible where the panic-stricken inhabitants fled before the all-destroying guns. across the rangitikei the _taua_ passed into the fertile district of the manawatu, which since the traditional days of whatonga had been the home of the rangitane people. of this hostile descent upon the coast the rangitane people declare that they, secure in their mountain fortresses, heard nothing until the arrival of the war party at otaki. thither some of the children of toki-poto, the chief at hotuiti, near awahou (foxton), had gone on a visit to their friends; and there they met te rauparaha, who inquired of them the whereabouts of their people and the number and strength of their _pas_. the patronising and fatherly demeanour which this warrior could assume[ ] when his ends were better served by the concealment of his true purpose completely won the confidence of the lads, and, in their innocence of the man, to whom they were confiding the secrets of the tribe, they readily told him all that he wished to know. when the desired information had been obtained some of te rauparaha's followers proposed, as a precautionary measure, that the children should be killed; but te rauparaha, more far-seeing than they, interposed, for he had not yet exhausted their usefulness. in the depths of his cunning he had conceived the idea of making the children of toki-poto the instruments by which that chief should be delivered into ngati-toa's hands. accordingly, he resisted the demand for their blood, saying, "no, let them alone, they are only children. rather let us go and take toki-poto out of the stern of the canoe." this was his expressive and figurative method of conveying to his warriors that he sought a more valuable trophy than the life of a child, and that he had resolved upon no less a scheme than the assault of the hotuiti _pa_. to mahuri, the eldest son of toki-poto, he then turned, and in dulcet tones he said, "go to your father, i will see him." accompanied by the ngati-toa warriors and their leader, the lad led the way to a small lake _pa_ at hotuiti, whither toki-poto had gone with the major portion of his people from their main settlement on the banks of the manawatu river. the _pa_ itself was built on one of the many miniature islets which dot the face of the lake; and, while te rauparaha and his followers lurked in the bush which fringed the margin, he sent the unsuspecting mahuri to tell his father that te rauparaha wished to talk with him. the first thought to arise in the mind of the rangitane chief was one of suspicion, and he at once exclaimed, "no, i will not go. i shall be slain." but the boy, into whose good graces te rauparaha had completely ingratiated himself, ridiculed these fears, and urged his father to go. to these entreaties, and possibly to fears of retaliation if he did not comply, toki-poto at last yielded, and, taking a few of his people with him, went in his canoe, unarmed, to welcome his visitor. scarcely had they reached the edge of the wood when they were set upon by the secreted warriors, and in the massacre which followed the chief and a number of his followers were killed, the remainder, with the exception of two, being taken prisoners. the two who escaped were mahuri, the innocent cause of the disaster, and te aweawe, the father of the well-known family who still reside upon the rangitane lands in the manawatu. side by side with toki-poto, there fell that day another chief named te waraki, whose greenstone _mere_, a weapon famous in the annals of the tribe, was buried on the site of the massacre by the mourning people, and there it remained hidden for full sixty years, until it was discovered in . strange to say, te rauparaha did not press the advantage gained by the removal of hotuiti's chief by attacking the _pa_, but contented himself with carrying off his prisoners to otaki, where he rejoined waka nene. here the two chiefs rested for a time, pursuing vigilant inquiries into the number and disposition of the resident tribes. they visited for the first time the island stronghold of kapiti, and found it in the possession of a section of the ngati-apa people, under the chieftainship of two men named potau and kotuku. the visit was made with a simulation of friendship, for the time was not ripe for an attack; and the northerners were satisfied for the moment with examining the strategical features of the island, and extorting from potau and kotuku a considerable quantity of the greenstone which they had accumulated during the course of their traffic with the ngai-tahu of the south island. refreshed by their sojourn at otaki, and considerably enlightened as to its military possibilities, the northern war party then pushed on southwards, fighting as they went, first at wai-mapihi, a fortified _pa_, the remains of which are still to be seen not far from the puke-rua railway station. the _pa_ was captured, it is said, by treachery suggested by te rauparaha, and the muaupoko, whose valour had defied the most desperate efforts of their assailants, were hunted in and through the bush by their fierce pursuers. here, and at porirua, a number of canoes fell into the hands of the invaders, some of whom now decided to vary the monotony of the land journey by the exhilaration of the sea route. this determination ended disastrously. ignorant of the silent currents and treacherous tides of cook strait, the nga-puhi men of two canoes were swamped while taking the outer passage in rounding sinclair head, and fully one hundred of them were drowned. the remainder of the canoes, steering a course inside the reefs, escaped the danger of shipwreck, and reached whanganui-a-tara[ ] almost simultaneously with the party who had journeyed by land. the country surrounding this great basin was then held by the ngati-ira, a sub-branch of the ngati-kahungunu tribe, whose possessions practically extended from gisborne to cape palliser, on the eastern side of the north island. they were a brave and numerous people, and when their _pa_ at pa-ranga-hau was attacked, they fought with a desperation which extorted admiration even from their enemies. though considerable numbers of ngati-ira were killed in this conflict, nga-puhi did not escape scatheless; for one native account says: "ngati-ira charged them in the face of the flames of their muskets, and with their native weapons killed many nga-puhi." hunger was now beginning to assert its inconvenience; and the war party were at this time compelled to live exclusively on the flesh of their slaves, of whom large numbers were killed, each chief undertaking successively to provide the necessary supply. disease also attacked their camps, of which there were two; and some mysterious pestilence was responsible for the death of many warriors and several chiefs, whose heads were preserved and their bodies burned, to prevent them falling into the hands of the enemy. scarcely had the stricken host recovered from the prevailing sickness than the ngati-ira swept down upon the bivouac at te aro in the dead of night, and, in the first shock of the surprise, inflicted sore loss upon the sleeping warriors. thanks to their guns, the northerners were ultimately successful in beating off the attack, and immediately afterwards the pas which skirted the harbour were deserted by their inhabitants, who, reluctant to accept the responsibility of battle under such unequal conditions, beat a stealthy retreat into the hutt valley, whither the northern chiefs followed them, though their force was now only a remnant of what it had formerly been. they travelled by canoe up the river which waters the valley, and, as they went, the resident people, confident in their numbers, collected along the banks to jeer at them, and contemptuously invited them on shore to be eaten. the details of this campaign are but a repetition of successive slaughters; for the panic created by the strange sound and deadly power of the gun left the unhappy defenders no spirit to resist the onslaughts of their assailants. for several weeks they remained in the valley, guided from _pa_ to _pa_ by their slaves, who, to save their own lives, were forced to sacrifice those of their tribesmen. every nook of the dark forest was penetrated, and even the steeps of the rimutaka range were climbed in vengeful pursuit of the fugitives. in connection with these manoeuvres the reputation of te rauparaha has again been besmirched by suggestions of treachery--and treachery of the blackest type; for nothing could be more hurtful to the honour of a high chief than that he should prove faithless while feigning hospitality. it has been recorded by the nga-puhi chroniclers that, as they pushed on through the forest, they came upon a strongly built and populous _pa_, which left some room for doubt as to what the issue of an attack would be. to tempt the warriors into the open was the policy advocated by te rauparaha, and to achieve this end he sent messengers to the ngati-ira chiefs with offers of peace. to render the bait more seductive, a feast was prepared, to which the warriors of the hutt were invited; and, on assembling, a northern man sat down beside each one, prepared at a sign from their chief to spring upon the unsuspecting guests. into the _marae_ the women brought the food, and, as the unsuspecting ngati-ira were revelling in the delights of the banquet, the fatal signal was given by te rauparaha, and a massacre commenced, which ended only with the capture of the _pa_ and the rout of its inhabitants.[ ] whether the name of te rauparaha will ever be cleared of this odious imputation which the nga-puhi record has branded upon it is uncertain. but, as a counterpoise, it must be remembered that those who have made the accusations were at least willing participators in the schemes which they ascribe to him, and that, if the plans were his, the execution of them was undoubtedly theirs. having exhausted the field of conquest open to them in the valley of the hutt, the war party returned to the harbour where their canoes were beached, and, undeterred by the fact that their numbers had now dwindled to less than three hundred, they set off by sea for palliser bay, by which route they had determined to enter the wairarapa. a successful reprisal by the ngati-kahungunu tribe, who had cut off and annihilated a small party of the northerners, was the immediate justification for this new development in the plans of tuwhare and te rauparaha. the opposing forces met at the tauhere nikau _pa_, near featherston, which was strongly fortified and bravely defended; but the muskets which these rude imitators of cortés carried with them were here, as elsewhere, sufficient to spread consternation through the opposing ranks, and the _pa_ soon fell before the ngati-toa assault. numbers of the besieged escaped to the hills, where they suffered the biting pangs of hunger, and the bitterness of soul inseparable from the aftermath of war.[ ] others, keeping to the open country, were pursued as far as porangahau, in hawke's bay; and then the war party, weary of their bloody work, made their way back to tauhere nikau, where they spent some days demonstrating their contempt for the enemy by eating the bodies of the slain. when hunger and tribal hatred had been sated, the victorious warriors, observing ominous signs of a gathering storm, returned to the west coast, and remained for a few days' rest at omere.[ ] while here, the eagle eye of waka nene descried a vessel[ ] in full sail beating through cook strait. to the quick intellect of the chief, the sight of the ship opened up in an instant fresh possibilities; for he knew what intercourse with the _pakeha_ had done for the nga-puhi, and he saw no reason why the same advantages should not be shared by his friend and ally, te rauparaha. doubtless that chief had confided his fears to waka nene, and they had probably consulted long and anxiously as to the growing weakness of the position at kawhia. when, therefore, tamati beheld the passing ship, he saw at a glance that, if this part of the coast was frequented by vessels of the white man, it offered the same facilities for obtaining arms and ammunition which hongi enjoyed at the bay of islands. with unrestrained excitement he called out to his comrade: "oh, raha,[ ] do you see that people sailing on the sea? they are a very good people; and if you conquer this land and hold intercourse with them, you will obtain guns and powder and become very great." this optimistic little speech was apparently all that was required to confirm te rauparaha in his growing desire to take the decisive step of migrating with the whole of his people from the storm-threatened kawhia; and when the chief turned his face towards home, it was with the full resolve to come back at the first convenient season and make the country his own. the homeward journey was characterised by the same ruthless behaviour towards the resident people which had been practised on the way down, those who were captured being killed and eaten without any unnecessary ceremony.[ ] what occurred within the confines of the manawatu district we do not know, because the present-day representatives of the rangitane people declare that they saw and heard nothing of the invaders. as they proceeded further north, however, we hear more of them; for while they were in the rangitikei district an incident occurred which it suited the ngati-apa people not to forget. in one of the many excursions made into the interior in search of prisoners, a young chieftainess, named pikinga, was captured by a party of te rangihaeata's men. pikinga was the sister of arapata hiria, the ngati-apa chief against whom waka nene and te rauparaha were operating at the moment; and, if the gossip of the day is to be believed, she was possessed of no mean personal charms. she, at least, was attractive enough to captivate the most ruthless of the party, for it was not long before te rangihaeata fell a victim to her charms and made her his wife. whether this was merely a passing whim on the part of an amorous young warrior or a move in a much deeper game of diplomacy, it would be difficult to say at this distance of time, particularly as each tribe now imputes to the action of the chief a different motive. the ngati-apa claim, with some insistence, that the marriage was the expression of a bond of perpetual peace between them and te rauparaha: while the ngati-raukawa, to whose lot it fell some fifty years later to contest the point, contend that no such wide construction could be put upon rangihaeata's action, and that, even if it involved the tribes in a treaty of friendship at the time, the compact was subsequently denounced by te rauparaha on account of the treachery of ngati-apa. it is quite within the region of possibility that te rauparaha, having regard to the political aspect of the situation, would, so soon as he had measured their strength, lead the ngati-apa to believe that he desired to cultivate their goodwill; because immediately he had determined to seize the country opposite kapiti, he would perceive the wisdom of having some friendly tribe stationed between him and his northern enemies, upon whom he could rely to withstand the first shock of battle in the event of a waikato invasion. such tactics would not be foreign to the ngati-toa leader, for that part of his life which was not spent in battle was occupied in the development of schemes whereby the efforts of one tribe were neutralised by the efforts of another; and if he could make pawns of the ngati-apa, he would chuckle to himself and say, "why not?" but te rauparaha was not the man to seriously contemplate anything in the way of a permanent peace with ngati-apa, or with any one else whom he felt strong enough to destroy. and even assuming that he encouraged them in the belief that rangihaeata's devotion to pikinga was a common bond between them, he would not dream of maintaining such an understanding a moment longer than it suited his purpose. it seems, therefore, more likely that, when he satisfied himself that the people of the rangitikei were no match for his own warriors, and that he could subdue them at his leisure, he was at some pains to impress them with a sense of his magnanimity, but only because he desired to use them as a buffer between himself and the waikatos. years afterwards, when he felt secure against invasion, he repudiated all friendship with ngati-apa, and ordered his people to wage eternal war against them. the claim which the ngati-apa subsequently made to the land in the rangitikei-manawatu districts, on the ground that they were never conquered by the ngati-toa, because this marriage protected them from conquest, was therefore not well founded, the ordinary occurrence of a chief taking a captive woman to be his slave-wife being invested with a significance which it did not possess. upon the consummation of this happy event, the war party, laden with spoil and prisoners, made their way back to the north. when they reached kawhia, after an absence of eleven months, tuwhare being dead,[ ] waka nene, who had now assumed command of the northern contingent, took his leave of te rauparaha, and te rauparaha prepared to take leave of the land of his fathers. [ ] braves. [ ] waitohi had other children, one of whom, topeora, afterwards became the mother of matene te whiwhi, one of the most influential and friendly chiefs on the west coast of the north island. topeora is perhaps more famed than any other maori lady, for the number of her poetical effusions, which generally take the form of _kaioraora_, or cursing songs, in which she expresses the utmost hatred of her enemies. her songs are full of historical allusions, and are therefore greatly valued. she also bore the reputation of being something of a beauty in her day. [ ] there appears to be some doubt as to the exact locality of te rauparaha's birth, some authorities giving it as maungatautari and others as kawhia. [ ] marore was killed by a member of the waikato tribe--it is said, at the instigation of te wherowhero--while she was attending a _tangi_ in their district, about the year . [ ] war party. [ ] the traditional accounts of the maoris have it that at this period te rauparaha was "famous in matters relative to warfare, cultivating generosity, welcoming of strangers and war parties." [ ] this tribe was afterwards partially exterminated during the raids of hongi and te waharoa. [ ] "when paora, a northern chief, invaded the district of whanga-roa, in , the terrified people described him as having twelve muskets, while the name of te korokoro, then a great chief of the bay of islands, who was known to possess fifty stand of arms, was heard with terror for upwards of two hundred miles beyond his own district" (_travers_). [ ] "if we take the whole catalogue of dreadful massacres they (the new zealanders) have been charged with, and (setting aside partiality for our own countrymen) allow them to be carefully examined, it will be found that we have invariably been the aggressors: and when we have given serious cause of offence, can we be so irrational as to express astonishment that a savage should seek revenge?" (_earle_). [ ] marsden, writing of this time, says that such was the dread of the maoris that he was compelled to wait for more than three years before he could induce a captain to bring the missionaries to new zealand, as "no master of a vessel would venture for fear of his ship and crew falling a sacrifice to the natives." as an extra precaution, all vessels which did visit the country were supplied with boarding nets. [ ] whare-mawhai, sister of huri-whenua, chief of the ngati-rahiri, who lived at waihi, four or five miles north of waitara. [ ] tuwhare belonged to the roroa branch of the nga-puhi tribe. [ ] when the musket was first introduced into taranaki, a slave was very anxious to know how it was used. a nga-puhi warrior explained to him the method of loading and priming, then told him to look down the muzzle. the slave did so, whereupon the nga-puhi pulled the trigger, and the top of the unfortunate slave's head was blown off, much to the amusement of the surrounding crowd. [ ] associated with tuwhare and te rauparaha in this raid was another and equally famous chief, named muru-paenga. that he was a great warrior is proved by the fact that his enemies speak of him in the lament already quoted as "the army-raiser, the leader," while his friend te taoho, in a _tangi_ composed after his fall, refers to his "warlike eloquence," and compares him to "a richly-laden vessel, with all knowledge and great courage." but muru-paenga is not merely famed in song, for his achievements have in a measure passed into proverb. in the taking of _pas_, one of his favourite stratagems was to stealthily approach the enemy's fort at nightfall, and pounce upon it with the first light of dawn. this involved the sleeping of his men amongst the tender ferns growing on the outer edge of the bush, which in the morning necessarily bore a trodden-down appearance, a fact which did not escape the keen observation of those who had oft been the victims of his tactics. consequently, when muru-paenga was killed by nga-puhi in , the joyful news went through the country which he had previously devastated, and the saying was composed, in significant suggestion that the ferns and the people would no longer be crushed, "rejoice, o ye little ferns of the woods, muru-paenga is dead." [ ] "during the siege, tawhai (afterwards mohi tawhai), father of the late hone mohi tawhai, m.h.r., who was with the northern contingent of the taua in the attack, was close under one of the towers of the _pa_ when one of the defenders hurled a big stone at him which split open his head. but by careful doctoring he recovered--careful doctoring according to maori ideas meant that they poured hot oil into the wound and then sewed it up" (_polynesian journal_). [ ] topeora did not secure her husband without a struggle, for another lady, neke-papa, had also taken a fancy to the handsome warrior, and as te ratutonu was leaving the _pa_, a dispute arose as to which should have him. but topeora, being fleet of foot, ran to meet the advancing warrior, and cast her _topuni_, or dog-skin mat, over him, "and this being in accordance with maori custom, te ratutonu became the husband of topeora." [ ] his home was on the banks of the hokianga river, on the western side of the country, opposite to the bay of islands. he afterwards became a convert to the wesleyan mission, and received at his baptism the prefix "thomas walker" to his old maori name of nene, hence the name by which he is known in history--tamati waka nene. [ ] the late hon. j. w. barnicoat, who knew te rauparaha well, has assured the writer that when it suited him the wily old chief could "lend a most angelic expression to his countenance." [ ] now known as wellington. [ ] "all these works of treachery, ambushes, murders, and all these wrongs done by the _taua_ of nga-puhi, were taught them by te rauparaha" (_nga-puhi account_). [ ] the female prisoners were secured by plaiting flax ropes into their long hair, and the men were imprisoned in enclosures made for the purpose. [ ] omere is a high bluff just to the south of ohariu bay. this bluff was the place which maoris always visited to see if the straits were calm enough to cross: hence the reference in the old song-- where omere projects outside, the look-out mount for calms. [ ] it has been suggested that this vessel was either the _wostok_ or the _mirny_ of the russian scientific expedition sent out by czar alexander i. in , and which visited queen charlotte sound. if this is so, the date of this event was either late in may or early in june, . [ ] a contraction for rauparaha. [ ] on one occasion, when te rauparaha was conversing with mr. george clarke, then protector of the aborigines, the latter asked him how he made his way from north to south. with a wicked twinkle in his eye, te rauparaha replied, "why, of course, i ate my way through." [ ] on reaching whanganui, a division in the councils of the leaders took place, ngati-toa and nga-puhi remaining on the coast, while tuwhare made an intrepid dash up the whanganui river with his own immediate followers. they fought their way up into the "cliff country," in the upper reaches of the river, and here, in an engagement at the kai-whakauka _pa_, tuwhare received a wound on the head from which he shortly afterwards died. on receiving the fatal blow, he contemptuously remarked to his assailant: "if thine had been the arm of a warrior i should have been killed, but it is the arm of a cultivator." chapter iv the land of promise when the period of feasting and enjoyment, which invariably followed upon the return of a successful maori war party, had terminated at kawhia, te rauparaha immediately became involved in a fresh struggle with waikato. the cause of the hostility was remote; but, as waikato had vowed to drive him out, no pretext was too slight upon which to base a quarrel. thus the killing of one of their chiefs by a taranaki warrior, to whom te rauparaha was related, was sufficient to justify the marching of a large war party against him. their force advanced in two sections: the one came down the inland track, and the other, which was to actively engage te rauparaha, entered kawhia from the sea. two _pas_, tau-mata-kauae and te kawau, speedily fell before the invaders, and again ngati-toa were defeated at the battle of te karaka, on the borders of lake taharoa, after an heroic struggle, in which it is said that three hundred ngati-toa fought more than a thousand waikatos. these disasters were indeed darkening the outlook for ngati-toa, and the position has been graphically described by one native historian, who states that "the losses of the tribe of te rauparaha were very great; by day and by night they were killed by ngati-pou." success had also attended the arms of the section of waikato who, under te wherowhero, had swept through the waipa valley and across the forest plateau until they reached the wai-kawau _pa_ on the sea-coast, just north of the mokau river. this they stormed and sacked by force of overpowering numbers, and, surfeited with victory, they united with their comrades at te karaka, and then triumphantly marched home. with so many of his _pas_ obliterated and his warriors slain, te rauparaha retired upon te arawi, a coastal stronghold built upon the summit of a forbidding-looking rock, which at full tide is completely surrounded by a breaking sea. here he had leisure to reflect upon the lessening radius of his freedom and to formulate his plans for extricating his people from a position of increasing peril; and we may fairly assume that it was now that his final decision to migrate from kawhia to kapiti was taken. once resolved on this course, he applied himself systematically to the task of persuading his people to enter into the spirit of the scheme, over which he himself had become so enthusiastic, and which he now deemed necessary to their safety. the task was by no means a simple one, for the impending danger was not so apparent to all the tribe as it was to their chief; and, moreover, there centred in the spot which he was asking them to leave the traditions and associations of all the centuries which had passed since their forefathers had first landed there from the pilgrim canoe. they knew each nook and corner, from the caves to the hill-tops, every point of which spoke to them of the beloved past. here a rock which had been a trysting-place in some tragic love affair, there a haunt of spirits, yonder a burying-ground made sacred by the bones of their ancestors, and there again a battlefield hallowed by the memory of the fallen. each of these was a tie dear to the maori; and they were loath to leave all that linked them to the past and face a future full of doubt and uncertainty. but the confidence which te rauparaha had inspired, and the prospect of guns and ammunition in abundance, gradually overcame these sentimental objections; and before long the ngati-toa people agreed to follow their chief whithersoever he might lead. te rauparaha was, however, prudent enough to recognise that his own section of the tribe, though brave at heart, were few in numbers for so serious an undertaking as the conquest of a new territory. as soon, therefore, as he had secured the consent of his own tribe, he paid a visit to maungatautari, for the purpose of obtaining the co-operation of ngati-raukawa. with them he was no more successful at first than he had been with his own people. he pointed out their liability to attack, the difficulty in obtaining guns, shut out as they were from communication with the whalers, and the prospect of an easy victory over the weakened tribes of the coast. but they were reluctant to give up all that they possessed for a visionary and problematical success, and it was not till quite a year later that he was able even partially to break down their resistance. in pressing his claims upon the ngati-raukawa, he was materially aided by a somewhat romantic incident which occurred during his stay at maungatautari. although his mother was a ngati-raukawa woman, and by virtue of that fact he could claim chieftainship amongst them, te rauparaha was not regarded as a particularly brilliant star in their peerage; but what he lacked in pedigree was more than compensated for by his mental initiative and personal courage. conscious of his own power, he never lost an opportunity of impressing it upon others; and it is therefore not a matter for surprise that he made the death of the ngati-raukawa chief the occasion of advancing his own claims to leadership. [illustration: _photo by jackson._ te arawi pa, kawhia. from which the ngati-toa migration commenced.] thus it was a fortunate circumstance for him that, while he was advocating the conquest of kapiti, hape taurangi, the great chief of maungatautari, was seized with a fatal illness, and, while the whole tribe sat silently waiting for the end, the question of succession seemed to trouble him, as he probably realised the absence of a master-mind amongst his own sons. to them he put the question: "can you tread in my steps and lead my people to victory? can you uphold the honour of the tribe?" to these interrogations not one of his sons replied, and the silent suspense remained unbroken, until te rauparaha, springing from the ring of warriors, exclaimed, "i am able to tread in your steps, and even do that which you could not do." the apparent presumption of this speech was lost in the general satisfaction, and, when hape passed into the great beyond, te rauparaha took over his wives and his leadership, the latter of which he retained to his dying day.[ ] but the measure of authority which had passed to him on the death of hape did not include the sole direction of ngati-raukawa's affairs. the tribe still looked to their natural leaders for guidance in domestic matters, and the new influence gained by te rauparaha in their councils, though considerable, was not sufficient to overcome the obduracy of the tribe towards what they chose to regard as his chimerical proposal. nothing daunted, however, by the refusal of his kinsmen to participate in his bold enterprise, te rauparaha proceeded with patient deliberation to make his own arrangements. these involved the most careful planning and delicate negotiation, for failure in any one direction might wreck the whole scheme. the first consideration was to secure safe conduct for his people through the territory of the taranaki tribes, and the establishment of resting-places where the very old and very young could recover their strength, and where sufficient food could be grown to carry them on to the next point of vantage. to this end negotiations were entered into with the ngati-awa and ngati-tama chiefs, who were more or less connected with ngati-toa by inter-marriage. it would, however, be a mistake to elevate this racial relationship into a bond of sincere friendship between these tribes, for neither would have hesitated long about a proposal to destroy the other, had a favourable opportunity presented itself. their attitude towards each other was distinctly one of armed neutrality, which at any moment might have broken out into open rupture. but even this negative attitude of the tribes proved useful to te rauparaha, as it enabled him to approach ngati-awa and ngati-tama with at least the semblance of friendship, while it deprived them of open hostility as a reason for refusing his requests. the concessions which the ngati-toa leader asked for were therefore granted, though grudgingly; but he could no more persuade ngati-awa to go with him than he could impress the ngati-raukawa; and when he reminded them of the change which was coming over the system of maori warfare, and the weakness in which they would be left by his departure, they laughed at his misgivings, boasted of their ancient _mana_, and told him that his fears were altogether unworthy of a chief of his standing. how dearly they paid for their lack of foresight is told in the fall of puke-rangiora _pa_ a few years later, when the waikatos swept down upon them and drove them flying into the arms of the man whose counsel they had so carelessly despised. having thus diplomatically arranged an open road for the passage of his people to the south, he found it equally essential to secure an unmolested departure from the north. he therefore appreciated the necessity of making terms with his old enemy, te wherowhero, of waikato, and in this important negotiation he availed himself of the services of two ngati-mania-poto chiefs, who occupied the country close to kawhia and were on friendly terms with te wherowhero. these chiefs paved the way for a conference, at which te rauparaha appears to have been unusually candid with his old antagonist. he frankly unfolded to him the details of his proposed migration, and, in consideration of te wherowhero's guaranteeing him immunity from attack, he, on his part, agreed to cede the whole of the ngati-toa lands to the waikato tribes after his people had vacated them. such easy acquisition of a valuable piece of country was not without its influence upon te wherowhero. but he was even more impressed by its strategic than by its inherent value. the migration of ngati-toa would rid him of a troublesome enemy on the west, and enable him to concentrate all his forces on his eastern frontier, where he would be the better able to resist the aggressions of that other remarkable figure in maori history, te waharoa, should it ever occur to that warrior to attack him. on the understanding, then, that kawhia was to be formally ceded to him, te wherowhero undertook not to molest the migrating tribe, either during their preparations or on the actual march. the question of immunity from attack having been thus satisfactorily disposed of, the next matter which te rauparaha had to consider was the securing of an adequate supply of provisions for his people during their pilgrimage. as it was impossible to complete the journey in a single season, it was necessary not only that large quantities of food should be carried with them, but that planting-places should be established at various points along the route of march, where these supplies could be renewed from time to time. none of these details were overlooked, but all were worked out with mathematical exactitude by the consummate organiser in whose brain the migration had been planned; and the smoothness and precision with which these precautions dovetailed together furnish a remarkable example of high organising capacity. as a final preparation, it was necessary that the disposition of his fighting men should receive some attention, because he could not hope to conceal his real purpose from the people whose country he was about to invade. it is true he did not anticipate any serious opposition, because the defeats inflicted upon them by the recent expedition under tuwhare, waka nene, patuone, and himself had so reduced their strength as to render serious opposition impossible; but, in view of the limited force at his command, and the unlikelihood of increasing it, unnecessary waste had to be guarded against. he therefore divided his warriors into suitable sections, and, appointing a sub-chief to lead each company, he retained the supreme command of affairs in his own hands. the carrying out of these varied preparations had now occupied several months, and when all was ripe for departure he paid a last visit to the surrounding tribes and chiefs--to kukutai, of lower waikato, to pehi-tukorehu, of ngati-mania-poto, to te kanawa, of waikato, bidding them good-bye, and, as an example in good faith, he kept his word to te wherowhero, saying to that chief: "farewell! remain on our land at kawhia; i am going to take kapiti for myself: do not follow me." at mungatautari a final effort was made to induce the ngati-raukawa to join him; but, although there were evidences of weakening resistance, he had still to wait several months before their objections were so far overcome as to permit him any measure of hope that they would yet yield and follow him. the tour of leave-taking at an end, te rauparaha returned to his _pa_ at te arawi, and there summoned his people to prepare for the fateful march. when all was ready, the blazing flaxstick was put to the walls of the great carved house which had adorned the _pa_, and as the smoke of its destruction arose, the whole tribe of fifteen hundred souls passed through the gate which they were never again to enter. in the case of unlettered peoples there is necessarily some difficulty in determining the precise periods at which important incidents in their history have occurred; and in this instance we have nothing to guide us except the arrangement and comparison of subsequent events. by this mode of reasoning we are led to the conclusion that the migration from kawhia must have occurred during the latter months of the year . but, whatever obscurity rests upon this point, tradition is clear[ ] that the circumstances under which the exodus commenced were singularly auspicious. the day broke with a cloudless sky, and, as the sun rose into the blue dome, the landscape for miles was lit by the rosy tints of morn, rendering every peak and valley more beautiful. on the route of march lay the hill of moeatoa, and to its summit the pilgrims climbed, in order to take a last fond look at their ancient home. as they turned and gazed upon old kawhia the memories of the past came crowding back upon them, and it is easy to understand their deep manifestations of sorrow at leaving their ancestral domain. the softer sentiments associated with home and country are not the exclusive prerogative of civilised beings. these people, savage and ruthless though they were, thrilled with the same patriotic feeling which prompted the prophet of israel to exclaim: "if i forget thee, o jerusalem! may my right hand forget her cunning." and although their form of expressing it was neither so beautiful nor so poetical, they were, nevertheless, quite as sincere when they cried upon the mountain-side: "kawhia, remain here! the people of kawhia are going to kapiti, to waipounamu." "the love of a new zealander for his land is not the love of a child for his toys," says a well-known writer.[ ] "his title is connected with many and powerful associations in his mind, his affection for the homes of his fathers being connected with their deeds of bravery, with the feats of their boyhood, and the long rest of his ancestors for generations." and there is no reason to suppose that these feelings were less active in the ngati-toa at such a moment than they were in other maori tribes. the closing scene in the life of the ngati-toa at kawhia has been beautifully described by thomas bracken, whose word-picture of the scene on moeatoa hill is amongst the finest that came from his poetic pen:-- "beneath the purple canopy of morn, that hung above kawhia's placid sheet of waters crystalline, arose on high the golden shield of god, on azure field, with crimson tassels dipping in the sea! and from its burnished face a shower of rays shot up the hills and gilt their spires and peaks in lambent sheen, until the turrets seemed like precious ornaments of purest gold on mighty altars raised by giant priests in olden times, to offer sacred fire as sacrifice unto the fount of light, from whence the planets and the myriad stars drink their effulgence! in the wild ravines and gorges deep, the limpid babbling creeks sang matins as they left their mother hills to mingle in united waters, where they lost their little selves, and merged in one pellucid flood that gathered stronger life from day to day! as god's great human church, now building on the earth shall gather all the little sects and creeds and small beliefs that split mankind into a thousand parts, and merge them in one universal flood of boundless charity. the dazzling points of morning's lances pierced the bursting hearts of all the flow'rets on the fertile slopes, and waked red kawhai's drops from sleep and shook the dew buds from the rata's lids, until its blossoms opened up their breasts and gave their fragrance to the early breeze that played amongst the koromiko's leaves, and stole the rich tawhiri's sweet perfume, and strung the flax-leaves into merry tune to woo the bell-bird from his nest, to ring the tui up to sing his morning hymns. the scene was made for man, not savage man, the cunningest of brutes, the crafty king of beasts! but man the spiritualised, with all the light of knowledge in his brain, with all the light of love within his heart! and yet they were but savages who stood on moeatoa's hill, above the scene, mere savages, a step beyond the brute! but still there were bright sparks of god-lit fire within their breasts! they loved their native vales with heart and soul! for they had hearts and souls far nobler than some milk-faced races who have basked 'neath calv'ry's sun for ages long, and yet lie grov'lling in the nations' rear, with hearts encased in earth too coarse and hard for calv'ry's glorious light to penetrate. poor savages! that orient had not yet shed its benignant rays upon their souls, to melt the dross that dragged them down to earth in carnal bonds! they knew not yet the road to reach the standard of their better selves. yet they were men in all save this! brave men with patriots' hearts, for as they stood and gazed o'er fair kawhia's hills and vales that stretched into the sea, o'er which their sires in ages past sailed from hawaiki's shores, the tears ran down their tattooed cheeks, and sobs welled from their bosoms, for they loved the land with all the love intense a maori feels for childhood's home! the hist'ry of their tribe was written there on every rock and hill that sentinelled the scene, for these had known their deeds of prowess, and their fathers' deeds of valour! and the caverns held the bones of those from whom they'd sprung! their legends wild, and weird traditions, chained them to the place, and ere they burst those links of love they gave a long sad look on each familiar spot and wailed above kawhia's lovely vale: oh! kawhia, remain, cavern, gorge, and bay, valley, and hill, and plain-- we are going away. oh! kawhia, remain, take our tears and our sighs; spirits of heroes slain, rise up from reinga, rise. oh! kawhia, remain, with thee, tawhaki, stay; long may he o'er thee reign-- we are going away." the first stage of the journey ended with the close of the fourth day, when the _pa_ of puohoki was reached; and here te rauparaha decided to leave his wife akau[ ] and a number of the women and children under a suitable guard, while he and the bulk of the people pushed on as far as waitara. here they were received by the ngati-tama and ngati-awa tribes, in whose _pas_ they were quartered for the season; and, except that a spirit of parsimony seemed to pervade their welcome, they had every reason to feel rejoiced at the success which up to this moment had attended their venture.[ ] after the lapse of a brief period spent in perfecting his arrangements, te rauparaha decided to return for his wife and her companions, and on reaching the _pa_ where they were staying he learned to his great joy that akau had borne him a son. this infant lived to be the well-known missionary chief, tamihana te rauparaha. against the advice of his tribe, rauparaha had only taken a band of twenty warriors with him, and on the journey back to waitara his strategic abilities were tested to the full to escape annihilation. three days after his arrival he left on his return journey, carrying his infant son in a basket on his back. knowing that he had left kawhia, a party of the restless ngati-mania-poto had crept down the coast in the hope of finding some stragglers of his party whom they might conveniently kill. but instead of meeting, as they had expected, a few irregulars, they came suddenly upon te rauparaha himself near the mouth of the awakino river. to some extent the surprise was mutual, but the stress of the position was all against te rauparaha. supported only by a limited force and hampered by the women and children, he was in serious difficulties, as the enemy might cut off his retreat and then attack him in force. suddenly a brilliant idea struck him. before the enemy approached within striking distance he ordered twenty of the most active women to disrobe and don the mats and headgear of fighting men. then arming each of them with a stone club, he placed them under the charge of akau, who was a woman of magnificent physique, with instructions to march in the van brandishing their weapons after the manner of veteran warriors. the more helpless women and children were placed in the centre, while he and his fighting men covered the retreat. misled by the stratagem, the ngati-mania-poto were tricked into the belief that the ngati-toa force was much stronger than it really was, and instead of attacking they began to retire. observing this, te rauparaha immediately accelerated their panic by charging down upon them, and in the skirmish which followed tutakara, their chief, was killed by te rangi-hounga-riri, te rauparaha's eldest son by his child-wife marore, who was rapidly making a name for himself as an intrepid warrior. but, although the position was somewhat relieved, te rauparaha felt that the danger was not yet at an end. he was experienced enough in native tactics to know that the ngati-mania-poto would be tempted to return at nightfall and renew the attack in the hope of avenging the death of their chief. he therefore could not consider himself safe until the mokau river was crossed, and, unfortunately, when he reached its banks the tide was full and the river was in flood. nothing remained to be done except to wait, but in order still to maintain the deception twelve large fires were kindled, at each of which three women and one warrior were stationed, while the chief and the rest of his followers lay prepared for emergencies. it was also an injunction to the sentinels at the fires to address each other occasionally in the heroic language of the time. "be strong, o people, to fight on the morrow if the enemy return. take no thought of life. consider the valour of your tribe." these stimulating exhortations, which were intended for the enemy's ears as much as for their own, were supplemented by fervid speeches from the women, whose shrill voices were carried out into the night air as a warning to the enemy that they would not lag behind their lords in the coming battle. meantime, te rauparaha lay waiting for the enemy, who never came. either having no stomach for another encounter with so redoubtable a warrior, or still not understanding the true position, they wisely declined to provoke a battle, about the result of which they could be by no means sanguine. at midnight the tide turned, and the river fell sufficiently to be fordable.[ ] leaving their fires burning, the ngati-toa crept silently down to the bank, and, wading across, made their way to the _pas_ of their friends, which they reached amidst general rejoicing. early next morning the scene of the previous day's battle was revisited and the bodies of the slain enemy recovered to make a feast, at which the sweet revenge harboured against ngati-mania-poto was surfeited. while the ngati-toa plans were developing in taranaki, another misfortune was falling upon the people of the southern districts from the opposite direction. towards the middle of a band of six hundred warriors, under apihai te kawau, of ngati-whatua, te kanawa, and tu-korehu, of waikato and ngati-mania-poto, and other prominent chiefs, longing for some new excitement, had journeyed down the east coast through hawke's bay and the wairarapa, for no particular purpose except to kill, eat, or make slaves of whoever might fall into their hands. in the course of this pilgrimage of blood they crossed over to the west, and there attacked in succession the muaupoko, rangitane, and ngati-apa tribes, upon whom they inflicted sore and mortal wounds; and when they retired back to the north they left the conquest of kapiti a matter of comparative simplicity to te rauparaha. but they were soon themselves to feel the sting of defeat. passing into the taranaki country on their homeward march, they were set upon by the ngati-awa people, who strenuously opposed their further progress at waitara. this was a strange reversal of all previous policy on the part of ngati-awa, who had always been friendly to, and had frequently co-operated with, the ngati-mania-poto and waikato peoples on similar raids. by some authorities this new antagonism has been attributed to the sinister influence of te rauparaha, who was still at ure-nui waiting to harvest his crops. he had not forgotten the anxious moments to which he had been subjected on the banks of the waitara river, and it would have been more than human on his part had he not sought to balance accounts now that the opportunity offered. "by means of plotting and deceit," says one writer, "he succeeded in rousing ngati-awa--or the greater part of them--to take up his quarrel." whatever the cause of ngati-awa's hostility, the effect was a series of determined and well-organised attacks upon the northern _taua_, which ultimately drove them to seek refuge with a friendly section of the ngati-awa in the famous puke-rangiora _pa_. here they were besieged for seven months, fighting repeatedly, and, towards the end of that period, suffering intense privations. frequent attempts were made to send intelligence of their straits through the enemy's ranks to their friends; but so close and vigilant was the investment that their messengers were invariably captured, and their heads fixed upon poles and exhibited to the besieged in a spirit of exultant derision. one, rahiora, a young man of the ngati-mahanga tribe, did at length succeed in evading detection, and travelling into the waikato by kete-marae and whanganui, thence by taupo and waipa, was able to communicate to the great te wherowhero the critical plight of his tribesmen. te wherowhero immediately made his call to arms, and soon a numerous relief party was on its way to join the force already in the field, which had vainly endeavoured to cut off te rauparaha at the mokau. the junction of these forces was successfully accomplished, and the pride of waikato's military strength, under two of the greatest chiefs of that time, te wherowhero and te waharoa, marched southward for the dual purpose of raising the siege of puke-rangiora and of attacking te rauparaha. though they failed to reach within striking distance of the beleaguered _pa_, their movement indirectly achieved its object, for the advent of so large a force lightened the pressure of the siege by drawing off a considerable number of the besiegers. of these te rauparaha took command, and to his strategical genius was due the victory which he ultimately achieved on the plain of motu-nui. this plain stretches along the sea-coast between the ure-nui and mimi rivers. at this point the shore is bounded by perpendicular cliffs, fully one hundred and fifty feet high, along which are dotted several small _pas_, used as fishing-places in olden times. away to the eastward of the plain run the wooded hills, on the steep sides of which rise the numerous streams which rush across the plain to the sea. on the southern end of one of the spurs descending from the range was built the strongly fortified okoki _pa_, which was made the point of assembly by the ngati-awa and ngati-toa warriors. the waikato _taua_ came on as far as a place called waitoetoe on the southern bank of the mimi river, and there commenced to make a camp preparatory to throwing down the gage of battle. to the watchers in the okoki _pa_ their fires had been visible for several miles; and when it was seen that they had determined to pitch camp, there was a general request that their position should be at once attacked. personally, te rauparaha preferred to take no risks until the portion of his force which was still holding tu-korehu in check at puke-rangiora should have come up. he, however, yielded to the importunities of some of his chiefs, and consented to send out a _hunuhunu_, or reconnoitring party, to test the mettle of the enemy. to meet the possibility of the skirmish developing into a more serious encounter, he took the precaution of concealing a strong reserve force, composed of the older men, in the bed of one of the wooded streams which ran close beneath the _pa_. having instructed rangiwahia, of ngati-mutunga, in whose charge he left these supports, he took eighty of the younger men with him, and advanced across the plain by stealthy marches. so secretly was the movement effected, that they were within a stone's-throw of the waikato camp, and had actually commenced the attack upon some of the waikato warriors, before their presence was discerned. in the first onset te rauparaha's followers were roughly handled, and, in accordance with their preconcerted plan, they began rapidly to fall back, sustaining severe losses the while from the guns of the enemy. their retirement soon developed into a general retreat, which might have been much more disastrous but for a fatal division of opinion which sprang up amongst the waikato leaders, as to whether or not the fugitives should be pursued. te wherowhero was content to have repulsed them, and advised resuming the interrupted work of building their shelters; but others, not so cautious, urged immediate pursuit, and, these counsels prevailing, the whole waikato force was soon in full cry after the retreating scouts. the chase was fierce and stern, and many a good taranaki warrior dropped upon the plain as he sped towards the _pa_, for the pursuers kept up as hot a fire as their rapid movements rendered possible. seeing the men falling round him, a chief who was running close to te rauparaha repeatedly urged him to turn and attack the pursuers; but the crafty general, knowing that the time was not yet, declined to forestall his prearranged strategy. he held on his way, only urging his men to faster flight, while te wherowhero incited his marksmen to single out the ngati-awa chiefs for death. some two miles of the plain had been covered, and the southern warriors were nearing their supports. as the foremost reached the wooded gully, they waited there to recover their breath, and allowed the pursuers to close in upon them. weary and blown with their long and exciting run, the waikatos came straggling up, innocent of the trap into which they had fallen. at the psychological moment te rauparaha gave the signal, and out dashed his veterans, fresh and eager for the fray, charging down upon the exhausted and astonished waikatos. their chiefs who were in the forefront of the chase were the first to go down, and their numbers were perceptibly diminished as they were beaten back by repeated charges across the blood-stained field. te wherowhero fought through the reverse with supreme courage, engaging and vanquishing in single combat no less than five of taranaki's greatest warriors; and to his fine defence and heroic example is attributed the fact that his tribe was not completely annihilated on the field of motu-nui. on the other hand, it has been whispered that his companion in arms, te waharoa, did not bear himself in this fight with his wonted gallantry. waikato paid a heavy toll that day. they left one hundred and fifty men dead on the field, and the slaughter of chiefs was a conspicuous tribute to their bravery--te wherowhero and te waharoa being the only leaders of eminence to escape. for some inexplicable reason, te rauparaha did not pursue his victory to the bitter end, as was his wont.[ ] this forbearance on his part is especially surprising in view of the fact that te wherowhero had specifically promised to remain neutral during the progress of the migration. possibly the consciousness that he would have done the same thing himself induced him to take a lenient view of his old antagonist's want of good faith; for there can be no doubt that the bloody wars which were at this time ravaging the country had completely sapped the old maori sense of honour. "at the period in question, more perhaps than at any other in the history of the race, moral considerations had but little weight in determining the conduct of either the individual or the tribe. even the nearest relatives did not hesitate to destroy and devour each other." there was thus nothing unusual about te wherowhero's conduct; but his experience of te rauparaha on this occasion was such that from that day onward he left him severely alone. the effect of these successive victories was to enhance enormously the prestige and power of te rauparaha. he began to be regarded with reverence by ngati-awa and with something akin to worship by ngati-toa. as a tangible proof of the gratitude which his hosts felt for the services which he had rendered them, food, which had been grudgingly supplied up to this time, was now given in abundance to his people, and, what was of even greater moment to te rauparaha, adherents began freely to flock to his cause. but, although he had beaten off both the ngati-mania-poto and waikato tribes, the position was still unsatisfactory to him from the point of view of numbers, and so he resolved to make one more effort to persuade ngati-raukawa to join him. accordingly he journeyed back to opepe, a village on the shores of lake taupo, where he met young te whatanui, a chief destined to become famous in after years as the protector of the muaupoko people whom te rauparaha wished to destroy. upon the assembled tribe, and upon te whatanui in particular, he again impressed the merits of his scheme, pointing out the altered position occupied by the tribes who had managed to become possessed of fire-arms, as compared with those who had only wooden spears and stone _meres_. he dwelt upon the fact that ships were beginning to frequent kapiti, and that there they could obtain guns, as nga-puhi had done at the bay of islands. he also reiterated all that he had formerly told them about the fertility of the soil and the ease with which the country might be conquered: but in vain. te whatanui volunteered no sign of approval. he gave many presents to te rauparaha, as marks of respect from one warrior to another. he also made him a long oration, skilfully avoiding the all-important topic upon which te rauparaha had travelled so far to consult him; nor did the majority of his people conceal their objection to coming under te rauparaha's immediate command, to the exclusion of their own chiefs. angered at this perversity, te rauparaha shook the dust of opepe from off his feet and proceeded to rotorua, and as far as tauranga, where he sought the aid of the great te waru. but he met with no success, for te waru had schemes of his own which claimed his personal attention. while resting with the tu-hou-rangi branch of the arawa tribe on his return to rotorua from tauranga, te rauparaha (according to accounts) perpetrated an outrage upon nga-puhi which was destined to inspire one of the most disastrous wars and one of the most daring assaults known in maori history. his motive for "sowing the seeds of evil counsel" is not clear. by some it is alleged a jealous envy of nga-puhi's success in procuring arms, while others find it in the consuming desire for revenge for the death of a young relative killed a few weeks before at the fall of the te totara _pa_ at the thames. whatever the motive, before leaving he took occasion to recite a _karakia_, or song, informing the tu-hou-rangi that there was a small band of nga-puhi travelling about in their vicinity, and broadly insinuating that "death and darkness were very good things." this hint, however enigmatical, was taken and acted upon. when te pae-o-te-rangi, hongi's nephew, and a company of his nga-puhi followers arrived at the motu-tawa _pa_, from which te rauparaha had just departed, they were treacherously set upon and killed by the tu-hou-rangi people. it was to avenge the death of te pae-o-te-rangi that hongi performed the herculean task of dragging his canoes from waihi, near maketu, to lake rotorua, and on the island of mokoia slaughtered the unfortunate ngati-whakaue (arawas), who had been entirely innocent of the original crime. before quitting rotorua, however, te rauparaha had the good fortune to fall in with the nga-puhi chief pomare,[ ] who handed over to him a few of the men who had accompanied him to the lake district on a mission of bloodshed. with this small reinforcement te rauparaha returned to taranaki and prepared to resume his journey southward, having in the meantime enlisted the services of some four hundred ngati-awas under one of the most famous men of his time, rere-ta-whangawhanga, father of wi kingi rangitake.[ ] the force at te rauparaha's command now numbered about eight hundred fighting men and their families. with these he resumed his march in the autumn of , when the kumara had been gathered in, and advanced without interruption or mishap until he reached patea. here a slight skirmish took place, and six of the invaders were killed, their deaths being immediately avenged by the slaughter of some waitotara people. from them a large canoe was captured, and was employed in the transportation of some of the women and children by sea, thus saving them the labour and fatigue involved in the land journey. te rauparaha himself also travelled by water with the women, but, with the exception of those required to propel the canoes, the men continued on foot along the coast, capturing and killing an occasional straggler who had lingered too long in the vicinity of the warpath. at the mouth of the rangitikei river the canoe was drawn up on the beach, and the whole party halted for several days. hearing of their arrival, the friends of pikinga came down to the camp to welcome her, but the remainder of the ngati-apa tribe fled to the hills and concealed themselves amongst the mountain fastnesses. it would therefore appear that the friendship which they afterwards alleged to have existed between te rauparaha and themselves was not of a very substantial character.[ ] nor did the marriage of their chieftainess with te rangihaeata avail them much; for while the bulk of his people rested by the river, odd bands of their fighting men were continually scouring the country in search of some plump ngati-apa who was needed to keep the ovens fully employed. while the weather continued fine, te rauparaha was anxious to lose no more time than was absolutely necessary. so soon, therefore, as his people had been refreshed by the rest, he pushed on again, making his next stage the mouth of the manawatu river, where he harassed the rangitane people by the inroads of armed parties on their settlements. but comparatively few captures were made, as the _pas_ were deserted immediately the inhabitants scented the danger. the migration which te rauparaha was thus conducting had for its objective a sweet and fertile spot on the banks of the ohau stream; and when the remaining portion of the coast had been traversed without opposition, and the tribe had reached its journey's end in safety, preparations were at once made to establish them permanently on the land. a _pa_ was built large enough to accommodate the whole party, and ground was cleared for cultivations, in which the potato was planted for the first time on this coast. their nearest neighbours were the ngati-apa, who held possession of the island of kapiti, and the muaupoko tribe, who were settled round the shores of lakes horowhenua and papaitonga. in what light the former regarded the aggression upon their borders it is difficult to say; but the latter were evidently very ill at ease, for they had a heavy presentiment of what the ultimate result would be. but how to avert the danger was no simple problem, as they had learned enough in the stern school of experience to recognise that victory in open battle was not to be hoped for. strategy was therefore determined upon. learning from two whanganui chiefs, who were then on a visit to horowhenua, that te rauparaha's vulnerable point at this period was his desire to obtain canoes, they resolved to tempt him with the bait to which he was most likely to fall a victim. the ease with which the chief fell into the trap was due to his excessive ambition and the further large schemes towards which his aspirations soared. he had heard strange stories of a treasure-trove of greenstone which the ngai-tahu people had stored in their _pas_ over on the middle island; and as he stood on the beach at ohau and looked across the strait towards the hills of waipounamu, he dreamed of this wealth and how he could possess himself of it. without a fleet of canoes to convey his warriors over the intervening sea, the project of invasion was visionary; but even with the frailest vessels he might make it a reality, and at one bold stroke add to his dominions, gratify his avarice, and satiate his hate by waging war upon the southern tribes. of canoes the muaupoko had many. residing as they did upon the shores of two lakes, these vessels were almost as essential to them as gondolas to the venetians; and when they learned of te rauparaha's eagerness to obtain what they possessed, a device was cautiously planned by which they might rid themselves of a neighbour whose coming they felt boded them no good. into this conspiracy of murder the rangitane people of manawatu were admitted; and for thus allowing themselves to be made the cat's-paw of others they paid a bitter penalty, for they succeeded in nothing except in arousing the eternal hatred of the great chief, who seemed invulnerable alike to their cunning and their force. the authors of the scheme were turoa and paetahi, both of the ngati-apa tribe; and the willing instrument in their hands was toheriri, a leader of the muaupoko, whose part was, shortly after the arrival of the ngati-toa at ohau, to send an invitation to te rauparaha and a number of his followers to pay a friendly visit to his _pa_ at papaitonga. as already indicated, the inducement held out to ngati-toa was the promise of a gift of canoes, and, under the circumstances, a more artful pretence could not have been conceived. "canoes were at this time his great desire, for by them only could he cross over to the island of waipounamu," is the explanation of the position given by tamihana te rauparaha; and, if the muaupoko could gratify that desire, te rauparaha was not the man to refrain from making a convenience of his enemies, as well as of his friends. accordingly he accepted the invitation, notwithstanding the earnest remonstrances of his nephew and lieutenant, te rangihaeata, who declared his irresistible conviction that murder, rather than hospitality, was the secret of the muaupoko invitation. rauparaha was in no mood to speculate about omens, good or evil. canoes he wanted, and canoes he would have, even if the gods or the devils were against him. his unusual recklessness even carried him so far that he selected only a few warriors to accompany him, and with these he arrived, just at the fall of evening, at papaitonga. the party was, of course, received with the most profuse expressions of friendship. toheriri and his fellow-chief waraki conducted their visitors in state to view the canoes which were to be handed over in the morning; but, on returning to the _pa_, they were careful to conduct te rauparaha to a house at one end of the settlement, while his followers were provided for at the opposite end. this fact appears to have aroused no suspicion in the ngati-toa mind; for at night all slept soundly, until the shouts of the combined rangitane and muaupoko war parties were heard in the early morning as they rushed upon the slumbering _pa_. the assailants appear to have been too precipitate in their onset. instead of first surrounding the _whare_ in which te rauparaha lay, they commenced the massacre of his followers at the other end; and toheriri, who was lightly sleeping in the same compartment as te rauparaha, was compelled to go out and direct them to the particular hut in which their common foe was lying. this delay was fatal to their design, but fortunate for te rauparaha. in the absence of his host, he stayed not to take his leave, but bursting through the _raupo_ wall which formed the end of the _whare_, he slipped away between the houses; and when the tardy rangitane rushed up to the hut, their prey had flown, and nothing remained but to wreak their vengeance upon the less distinguished victims, whom they slaughtered without mercy. included amongst these victims of treacherous onslaught were several of te rauparaha's wives and children. of the latter, however, two were spared, te uira and hononga, the former of whom was a daughter of his child-wife marore. the reason for this partial clemency is not clear; apparently vengeance was satisfied by sending them prisoners to the wairarapa, where they afterwards became wives of men of renown in the district.[ ] amidst the chaos of treachery which surrounds this incident, it is pleasant to record an act of chivalry of an heroic type. amongst those who accompanied te rauparaha on this eventful visit was his son, rangi-hounga-riri, who, it will be remembered, had distinguished himself by slaying tutakara, the chief of the ngati-mania-poto, when that tribe attacked ngati-toa at the awakino river. he, being strong of body and lithe of limb, had managed to break through the attacking cordon, and, had he chosen, might have made his escape. but, as he hurried away, his ear caught the sound of a girl's piteous crying for help. he recognised the voice as that of his sister, uira. heedless of consequences he rushed back to the _pa_, and, forcing his way to the side of the girl, placed his protecting arm around her, and fought her assailants until overpowered by superior numbers. by his death, te rauparaha lost one of his most intrepid lieutenants, and the ngati-toa tribe one of its most promising leaders. as chivalrous as he was brave, he was the type of chief whose nobility lifted the ancient maori above the level of the mere savage, and illustrated the manly qualities which so impressed those early colonists who took the trouble to understand the people amongst whom they had come. the qualities are still there, and justify the hope that, by sound laws, and sanitary and educational reforms, such as are now being effected, it may yet be possible to stay the process of degeneration which set in as the result of the first contact of the maori with the european. te rauparaha, having slipped from the snare of his enemies, plunged into the long grass which surrounded the _pa_, and, in the semi-darkness, succeeded in eluding his pursuers, eventually reaching his settlement at ohau, weary, angry, and almost naked. bitterly disappointed at the result of his mission, and deeply enraged at the treatment he had received, he in his wrath cursed the rangitane and muaupoko peoples, and, calling his tribe around him, he charged his followers to make it the one special mission of their lives "to kill them from the dawn of day till the evening." this doctrine of extermination was not preached to unwilling ears; and from that day the fixed policy of the ngati-toa tribe was to sweep the muaupoko and rangitane from their ancestral lands. in the reprisals which followed as the result of rauparaha's vow of eternal vengeance, the former tribe seems to have suffered most; and there is little room for doubt that they would have been ultimately uprooted and effaced from amongst the tribes of new zealand, but for the kindly offices of that dark-skinned humanitarian, te whatanui, who, years afterwards, took them under his protecting mantle, and declared, in the now historic phrase, that "nothing would reach them but the rain from heaven." the rangitane people were more fortunately situated, having the impassable forests of the manawatu and its inaccessible mountain fastnesses to protect them. but they by no means escaped the bitterness of persecution, as bands of ngati-toa were constantly roaming their country in search of some one to kill and devour. the constant absence of these parties convinced rauparaha that the small band of men whom he had with him was by no means sufficient for the magnitude of the task which his ambitious mind had conceived, and so he determined upon doing two things. the first was to strengthen his position by conquering the island of kapiti, which was still in the possession of a section of the ngati-apa people; the second, once again to despatch ambassadors to the north, to persuade some of his former allies to join him in mastering a district which promised a rich supply of guns and ammunition. as a preliminary to the former scheme, he extended his frontier as far as otaki, from which point he could the better watch the movements of the islanders and sweep down upon them at a favourable moment. but the intervals in which there was lack of vigilance were few and far between, and consequently the first series of attacks failed signally. the defenders were strongly posted and incessantly watchful; so rauparaha, seeing that the frontal attack, however well delivered, would not avail, decided upon a stratagem which, judged by its success, must have been admirably planned. his device was to lull the defenders of the island into a false sense of security by apparently withdrawing all his forces from otaki for the purpose of some larger movement in the north, at the same time leaving a small band of well-tried men, whose duty it was to make a dash for the island and seize it before its inhabitants had recovered from their surprise. he accordingly marshalled his forces one morning, and, with an amount of ostentatious display which was calculated to attract the attention of the ngati-apa spies, he marched away to the manawatu at the head of his warriors. the ngati-apa saw this movement, but did not understand it. believing that the absence of te rauparaha meant a period of respite, they withdrew their sentries and gave themselves up to rejoicing. this was precisely what the ngati-toa chief had hoped for and calculated upon. he also had the satisfaction of knowing that the most critical part of his scheme was in safe hands. his uncle, te pehi kupe, who was left in charge of the attacking party, was a tried and grim veteran, and, true to the trust imposed upon him, he came out of his concealment just before dawn on the morning after te rauparaha had left. silently the intrepid little band launched their canoes, and as silently they paddled across the intervening water, reaching the island at the break of day. they found the inhabitants still sleeping, and unconscious of any danger until the shouts of their assailants and the cries of the wounded warned them that some desperate work was on hand. not many of them stayed to fight, and those who were not killed in the first onslaught scrambled into their canoes and made for the mainland, thus ingloriously leaving the last independent stronghold of the ngati-apa in the hands of the invaders. it has been charged to the discredit of te rauparaha, that, in planning this attack upon kapiti, he cherished a guilty hope that te pehi might fall in the assault, and by his death rid him of a powerful rival in the councils of the tribe. but, while his critics have never been slow to attribute to him the grossest treachery towards his enemies and infidelity to his friends, there is absolutely no evidence that on this occasion he meditated a crime, such as sacred history imputes to the king of israel when he placed uriah the hittite in the forefront of the battle. te pehi was a great chief. he was te rauparaha's senior in years and his superior in birth. his prowess in battle was known far and wide, and the circumstances under which he afterwards emulated the example of hongi by visiting england, and like him, subsequently procuring for his tribe, guns and ammunition at sydney, stamp him as a man of strong initiative and individuality. but he did not possess the political genius with which his nephew was endowed; he lacked the organising power, the tact, and the gift of inspiring others with his own enthusiasm. while te pehi might lead a charge with brilliancy, te rauparaha could often gain more by diplomacy than he by force of arms; and these statesmanlike qualities gave the younger chief an influence with the tribe which te pehi did not and never could possess. indeed, the tragedy associated with his death at kaiapoi, in , is sufficient to convince us that he was strangely lacking in conciliation and tact. so far as can be learned, there is nothing to lead us to suppose that te pehi ever questioned his nephew's superiority in the diplomatic department of his tribal office; on the contrary, he seems to have cheerfully accepted a secondary position, and loyally aided te rauparaha in all his projects. under these circumstances, it is somewhat difficult to imagine what te rauparaha was to gain by sacrificing so brave an ally. moreover, the intense grief which he manifested when te pehi was killed at kaiapoi, and the signal vengeance which he took upon the ngai-tahu tribe for their act of treachery, render the suspicion of foul play on his part utterly improbable. in view of these considerations he may fairly be exonerated from any criminal intent towards te pehi. it is clear that the seizure of kapiti was but an essential move in his policy of conquest, and that the manner of its seizure was but a cleverly designed piece of strategy, certainly not unattended by risk, but affording very reasonable chances of success. the capture of this natural fortress did not result in its immediate occupation, for te rauparaha still had abundance of work to do on the mainland before he could regard the power of the enemy as broken and the conquest of his new home complete. in pursuance of his policy of extermination, he had been interspersing his larger movements with repeated raids upon rangitane and muaupoko, in which he invariably made them feel the sting of his revenge. finding that these attacks were becoming more frequent and more vigorous, the chiefs of the latter tribe conceived a plan by which they hoped to elude the persistency of their implacable pursuers. hitherto their _pas_ had been built on the shores of the picturesque lakes, around which they had lived since their advent into the district, centuries before. but they now decided to abandon these strongholds, which were exposed to every raid of the enemy, and build their dwellings in the centre of lakes horowhenua and papaitonga. at the cost of an amazing amount of industry and toil, they constructed artificial islands upon the beds of these lakes at their deepest parts, and upon these mounds they built a miniature maori venice. the construction of these islands was most ingenious, and desperate indeed must have been the straits to which muaupoko were driven before they imposed upon themselves so laborious a task. proceeding to the bush, their first operation was to cut down a number of saplings, which were pointed and then driven into the soft mud, closely enclosing in rectangular form sufficient space on which to place the foundations of the houses. smaller stakes were then driven into the centre of the enclosure, upon which were spitted those compact masses of vegetation known as "maori-heads." a layer of these gave the builders a solid basis upon which to work, and huge stones, earth, and gravel were brought in the canoes from the shore, and poured into the enclosures until the pile of _débris_ rose some height above the level of the water. six such islands were formed on lake horowhenua and two on papaitonga, and on these _whares_ were erected, which were gradually extended by the addition of platforms reaching a considerable distance beyond the islands. round each of these platforms ran a stout palisade, which served the dual purpose of preventing the very young children from falling into the water and offering a formidable barrier to the assaults of the enemy. as the only means of communication with these islands was by canoe, and as it was well known to the muaupoko people that te rauparaha had few such vessels, they felt comparatively secure from attack so soon as they had transferred themselves to their new retreat. but they little reckoned on the kind of man with whom they had to deal, when they imagined that a placid sheet of water could interpose between te rauparaha and his enemies. canoes he had not, but strong swimmers he had; and it is a fine tribute to their daring that, on a dark and gloomy night, a small band of these undertook to swim off to one of the horowhenua _pas_ and attack its sleeping inhabitants. with their weapons lashed to their wrists, they silently entered the water, and by swift side strokes reached the walls of waipata, the _pa_ which they had chosen for their attempt, and were swarming over the palisades before a note of warning could be sounded. taken at such a disadvantage, it was not to be expected that the muaupoko resistance would be effective, for they were both stunned by surprise and paralysed by fear at the awful suddenness of the attack. flight was their first thought, and such as were not slain in their sleep or caught in their attempt to escape, plunged into the lake and made for the nearest shelter. in this endeavour to escape death all were not successful, and it is estimated that, between the killed and drowned, the attack upon waipata cost the muaupoko several hundred lives, besides adding to their misfortune by shattering utterly their belief in the inaccessibility of their island _pas_. the adjoining _pas_ upon the lake, warned of the impending danger by the tumult at waipata, at once prepared for a stubborn defence; but the attacking party, feeling themselves unequal to the task of a second assault, discreetly withdrew to the mainland before it was yet daylight, and at once made preparations for another attack upon a more extensive scale. but both prudence and necessity dictated the wisdom of delay; it was wiser to wait until muaupoko had relapsed into their former state of confidence, and, moreover, the plan upon which it was proposed to make the attack required time for its development. recognising the strength of the waikiekie _pa_, against which the energies of his tribe were next to be directed, te rauparaha saw that success was not to be expected unless he could attack it in force. this involved the transportation of a large body of men over the waters of the lake, which could only be effected by means of canoes. these he did not possess in numbers, and, even if he had, he must still devise means of conveying them to the lake, which was several miles from the coast. his ingenious mind, however, soon discovered an escape from these perplexities, and he at once decided upon a plan, which was not without precedent in european warfare or imitation in subsequent maori history. his scheme involved the haulage of his canoes over the belt of land which separated the lake from the sea, and the enterprise seems to have been as cleverly executed as it was daringly designed. out of the lake runs an insignificant stream, which slowly meanders over shallows and between narrow banks down to the ocean; and to the mouth of this creek were brought such canoes as had fallen into te rauparaha's hands at the taking of kapiti, and a larger one which had been procured from his friends at whanganui-a-tara.[ ] where the water was deep enough, or the reaches straight enough, the canoes were floated up the bed of the stream; but as this was possible only at rare intervals, the greater part of the distance was covered by dragging the vessels over the grassy flats and ferny undulations. such a task would be laborious enough under any circumstances; but on this occasion it was rendered even more wearisome by the necessity for conducting it in absolute silence. as the success of the expedition depended mainly upon the completeness of the surprise, it was essential that no note of warning should be given, and therefore it was impossible to encourage the workers to greater exertions by song or speech; but so heartily did they bend themselves to their monotonous task, that the three miles of toilsome road were traversed before the break of day. the outflow of the lake was hidden by a clump of trees which grew close to the water's edge, and behind this natural screen the canoes were concealed, and the men lay down to rest until the moment came to strike. at the first appearance of dawn, the canoes were shot into the lake, and before the inhabitants of waikiekie had shaken slumber from their eyes, the shaft was on its way that would send many of them to their last long sleep. the _pa_ was attacked on every side, and with a vigour which left little chance of escape. such resistance as was possible in such a situation was offered by the drowsy defenders. but the mortal fear with which they had come to regard the ngati-toa, together with the fury of the onslaught and the completeness of the surprise, spread panic amongst them, and the resistance was soon left to a desperate few. their valiant efforts brought them nothing but the glory which attends the death of the brave. they were quickly borne down before the onrush of the assailants, whose shouts of triumph, joined with the terrified cries of the fugitives, filled the morning air. large numbers, who looked to discretion rather than valour, plunged into the lake, and by swimming, diving, and dodging, a few managed to elude both capture and death. but many were slain as they swam, and, while their bodies sank to the bottom, their blood mingled with the waters of the lake, until it lay crimson beneath the rising sun. warriors and women, old men and children, to the number of two hundred, we are told, perished on that fateful morning, which saw the muaupoko tribe driven from horowhenua, and the epoch of their greatness brought to a close. a mere remnant of the tribe escaped, and made their way through the forests and mountain fastnesses towards the south, where, within the space of another year, they were again pursued, hunted, and slaughtered, with all the old relentless hatred of their destroyer. having inflicted this crushing blow upon muaupoko, and feeling convinced that they could never again be a serious menace to ngati-toa, the section of the ngati-awa tribe who, under rere-ta-whangawhanga and other chiefs, had accompanied te rauparaha from taranaki, now determined to return to their own country at waitara;[ ] and it was this decision which made it imperative that the ngati-toa leader should seek efficient aid from some other quarter. he accordingly, without delay, despatched messengers to the north, once again to invite his kinsmen of the ngati-raukawa tribe to come and join him. these emissaries, having arrived at taupo, learned that an attempt to reach kapiti by way of the east coast had already been made by te whatanui, but without success, as he had been defeated by a hawke's bay tribe and driven back. this experience had somewhat cooled his ardour; but when te rauparaha's messengers came with the news that kapiti had been taken, and told of his marvellous success at waipata and waikiekie, interest in the project at once revived. especially was a young chief, named te ahu-karamu, fired with its romantic prospects, and he immediately organised a force of one hundred and twenty men and set off for the land of promise. almost simultaneously with the arrival of these reinforcements, additional strength was gained by the accession of another band of ngati-awa from taranaki; and, with these additions to his ranks, te rauparaha felt himself strong enough to resume once more active operations in the field. he accordingly moved upon a skilfully built _pa_ situated at paekakariki, some miles to the southward of kapiti, whither the escaping muaupoko had fled and taken refuge. in this adventure a larger force than usual was employed; for not only were the new arrivals keen for a brush with the enemy, but the natural strength of the _pa_ was such that rauparaha knew it would be useless to approach it without a force of adequate proportions. in these anticipations his judgment was correct, as usual, for the struggle proved to be an exceedingly obstinate one and the death-roll on both sides considerable. after some days of incessant attack, in which the few muskets possessed by ngati-toa played their fatal part, the muaupoko defence was pierced, and the victory was sealed with all the atrocities associated with the savage warfare of the ancient maori. the capture of this _pa_ proved to be a rich prize for rauparaha. not only did it uproot the last stronghold of the muaupoko people, but it brought a substantial addition to his supplies. large quantities of provisions were discovered within the stockade, evidently collected in anticipation of a lengthy siege. so provident, in fact, had the inhabitants of the paekakariki fort been in this respect, that the large attacking force spent the succeeding two months feasting upon the captured stores, interspersed with an occasional cannibal repast. this period of rest the visitors were prepared to enjoy to the full; for after a battle nothing was more congenial to maori warriors than to lie idly about the sunny places in the _pa_, and discuss in every detail the stirring incidents of the fight. it was while thus basking in fancied security that the tables were suddenly turned upon them, and from a most unexpected quarter. hearing from some of the fugitives of the capture of the paekakariki _pa_, and burning to avenge the raid which ngati-toa had previously made into the wairarapa, the members of the ngati-kahungunu tribe residing at wairarapa and near wellington believed that this was their golden opportunity. secretly collecting a fighting force of considerable strength, they made their way through the bush to paekakariki, and there fell upon the unwary and self-indulgent invaders. to them it was something of a novel experience to be thus repaid in their own tactics; but the swiftness and audacity with which the blow was delivered completely demoralised them, and the erstwhile assailants suffered the humiliation of being beaten back upon waikanae with inglorious precipitancy. the whole procedure necessarily involved considerable loss on the part of ngati-toa and their allies, and the bitterness of the reverse was especially galling because it was the first occasion on which they had been worsted in arms since their occupation of the country had commenced. the closeness of the pursuit did not slacken until the fugitives had reached waikanae; but beyond this point ngati-kahungunu did not press their advantage. they were now rushing into touch with rauparaha's permanent settlements, from which the echoes of the strife might draw reinforcements at any moment. unwilling to overrun their victory, the men from whanganui-a-tara withdrew to the south, well pleased with their achievement, which was not without its lesson for te rauparaha. the chief saw that the time had not yet arrived when he could relax his life-long vigilance. heavy as had been the defeats which he had inflicted upon the resident people, he saw that their spirit had not yet been completely crushed. brave as his own followers were, he saw that they were not proof against the panic which often springs from a surprise attack. the thing, however, which caused him most concern was the hostile attitude which was now being adopted towards him by the ngati-kahungunu people. hitherto this powerful tribe, whose domain was a wide and populous one on the eastern coast, had remained comparatively neutral in the contest for supremacy in the west. but now this attitude was abandoned, and under the encouragement afforded by this prospect of protection, the displaced tribes were gradually venturing back to their deserted settlements. should an effective alliance be formed between his enemies on the two coasts, the position would at once become so charged with danger that his comparatively small force would find itself in a most critical situation. it was, then, the threatening attitude of his neighbours which caused the ngati-toa chief to decide finally upon the abandonment of the mainland and the transference of the whole of his people to kapiti, there to await the result of his mission to his friends at maungatautari. in the meantime three strongly fortified _pas_ were built upon the island, and every preparation made against possible attack. these _pas_, situated one at either end, and the third in the centre of the island, were designed with as keen an eye for trade as for the purposes of defence. te rauparaha had not lost sight of the main purpose of his conquest, which was to bring himself into close association with the whalers, from whom he hoped to obtain, by purchase, barter, or bullying, additions to his store of guns and ammunition. for this purpose kapiti was easily the key to the position. favoured by deep water and safe anchorage, it afforded the securest of shelter to vessels seeking to escape from the dirty weather which comes whistling through the strait. boats lying snugly at anchor under the lee of the land would have opportunities for trade from which all others would be cut off; and there is little doubt that this commercial advantage was coolly calculated upon when the _pas_ on the mainland were evacuated and those on the island were occupied. this much at least is certain, that, whether part of a premeditated scheme or otherwise, the move proved to be a masterstroke, for it gave to te rauparaha a virtual monopoly of the white man's patronage, a privilege which for years he guarded with jealous exclusiveness. when it became known that te rauparaha had retired to kapiti, and there seemed less danger of immediate molestation, the rangitane people again began to collect in force near their old home at hotuiti. they built a strong _pa_ near the present town of foxton, and here they were joined by a number of ngati-apa chiefs and people from rangitikei. this proceeding te rauparaha regarded as a danger and a menace to his safety; for he had no reason to believe that he enjoyed their friendship, and no means of ascertaining when they might think fit to wreak their vengeance upon him. he therefore decided to take the initiative and attack them. accordingly, with rangihaeata and his ngati-apa wife pikinga, he marched his war party up the coast and at once invested the place. the method by which he sought to reduce the _pa_ to submission was a clever stratagem--perfectly honourable, perhaps, according to the maori code of warfare--but utterly repulsive to civilised ideas; and, to those who judge him by the latter standard, it lowers te rauparaha from the high plane of a classic warrior to the level of a cunning and unscrupulous savage. his first act of generalship aimed at separating the two tribes, a step which has been attributed by some to a desire to spare the ngati-apa, because of their relationship with pikinga. others, however, can see in it nothing but a clever ruse to divide the defending force, so that he might the more easily attack and defeat them singly. he therefore sent pikinga to the ngati-apa chiefs with a request that they would withdraw to their own territory beyond the rangitikei river. probably he promised them safe-conduct on their journey; but, if he did, it was of no avail, for they firmly refused to evacuate the hotuiti _pa_, and doggedly remained where they were. feigning, then, to abandon his campaign, te rauparaha sent to the rangitane chiefs, inviting them to come to him and negotiate terms of peace. in view of their past experiences it might have been expected that such a request would be scornfully declined; but after long and anxious debate it was decided--mainly, it is said, on the advice of the ngati-apa chiefs--that the leading rangitane warriors should meet the ngati-toa leader and make the best terms possible with him. the result was, of course, the old story: the ruthless slaughter of the confiding ambassadors, who found that te rauparaha had come, not with peace, but unrelenting war. treachery was no more suspected inside the _pa_ than out of it; and while the people were deluded into the belief that the war-clouds had passed away, they were being secretly and silently surrounded. at a given signal the walls were stormed and a bloody massacre followed, from which the ngati-toa warriors emerged sated with gruesome triumph. the slain were eaten on the spot, and the prisoners were taken to waikanae, there to await the returning appetite of their captors. so dastardly an attack upon their friends and so gross an insult to their tribal pride could not be ignored; and although time might elapse before the ngati-apa peoples would be able to strike an avenging blow, it was quite certain that so soon as the favourable moment arrived the ngati-toa would have to pay the penalty of their treachery. but te rauparaha never dreamed that they would have the temerity to attack him upon his own land, and while he was lying in fancied security at waikanae, the storm suddenly burst upon him. the ngati-apa, under te hakeke, had hurriedly collected their war party, and obtaining reinforcements from the fugitives who had escaped from the massacre at hotuiti, came by stealthy marches down the coast and fell upon the unsuspecting ngati-toa in the dead of night. next morning the camp was in ruins, te rauparaha's force was in flight, and sixty of his followers, including four of te pehi's daughters, were lying dead amongst the _débris_. the balance of battle honours having been thus somewhat adjusted, the aggressors retired, well satisfied with the result. they were allowed to depart without a resumption of hostilities, for the supports who had come over from kapiti were either not strong enough, or not keen enough, to pursue them.[ ] whatever may have been te rauparaha's previous disposition towards ngati-apa, whether he was genuinely disposed to befriend them or whether he was merely playing on their credulity, is of no further importance, for from that day he took on an attitude of undisguised hostility towards them, revoking all promises of peace, stated or implied, and becoming, in the characteristic language of matene-te-whiwhi, "dark in his heart in regard to ngati-apa." the shield of friendship having been removed, this unfortunate tribe was now exposed to all the fury of the most ruthless man in new zealand; and in the raids which his warriors made against them, neither man nor woman was spared who was unfortunate enough to fall into his hands. these misfortunes created a bond of sympathy between ngati-apa and their neighbours, the rangitane and muaupoko, and paved the way for an alliance against the common enemy. although banished from horowhenua and wandering about the solitary places of the coast, a broken and shattered people, there was still sufficient energy and hatred remaining in one of the muaupoko chiefs to make a final effort to recover their departed _mana_. te raki, who had suffered captivity at the hands of te pehi, aspiring, after his escape, to be the regenerator of his tribe, became the active apostle of a federation which was to embrace the tribes who had felt the weight of the ngati-toa hand. from waitotara in the north to arapawa and massacre bay in the south, and wairarapa in the east, he organised an alliance which could hurl two thousand fighting men against their redoubtable adversary. canoes from far and near brought this host to the appointed rendezvous, the northerners assembling at otaki and the southerners at waikanae. from these two points this army converged upon kapiti, their canoes "darkening the sea" as they went. the magnitude of the armada, however, was greater than its discipline, and before it had proceeded far its movements were discovered. the noise of the paddles, as the canoes approached the island in the early morning, caught the keen ear of nopera, and when the right wing landed at rangatira point, they were opposed by the people whom they had expected to surprise. the attack was fierce and desperate, and when pokaitara, the ngati-toa commander, found himself being driven back towards waiorua, he astutely proposed a truce. it would give him a welcome respite while it lasted, and perhaps some advantage in the first moment of its violation. ignorant of the fact that a message had been sent to te rauparaha, who happened to be at the centre of the island, and hoping for the speedy arrival of his own laggard reinforcements, who were still at sea, rangi-maire-hau, the ngati-apa chief from turakina, in a weak moment, agreed to a suspension of hostilities. scarcely had this been arranged, when te rauparaha, with the major part of his people, arrived upon the scene, and repudiating the agreement to which his lieutenant had committed himself, he recommenced the sanguinary work, and fought to such purpose that the issue was soon placed beyond doubt. with one hundred and seventy of their tribesmen slain, the ngati-apa attack began to slacken. presently their ranks were seen to waver, and an impetuous charge at this decisive moment drove into rout what had hitherto been an impenetrable front. the slaughter of pursuit was scarcely less than that of resistance. dead and dying lay on every side, and many found a watery grave in their vain effort to swim to the canoes, which had not yet reached the shore. news that disaster had overtaken the advance guard quickly spread to the other sections of the allied forces; and, without attempting to retrieve the fortunes of the day, they turned and precipitately fled in whichever direction safety seemed to lie. when he realised that his host had been worsted in the battle, rangi-maire-hau disdained to fly, but threw himself upon the mercy of te rangihaeata, who had borne himself with conspicuous bravery throughout the attack. that haughty chief, however, saw no reason why he should spread his protecting mantle over his would-be exterminator, even though the appeal was founded on the bond of relationship with his ngati-apa wife; and, steeling his heart against every entreaty, he ordered rangi-maire-hau's immediate death. with this exception, it is recorded to the credit of ngati-toa that they used their victory with unusual moderation. thus, the largest force which had ever been marshalled during the maori wars along this coast was defeated by one of the smallest; the organisation of two years was dissipated in as many hours; and the invaders were only the more firmly established in the land by this futile attempt to uproot them. this great victory, which settled for ever the question of supremacy, was duly celebrated by feasting and dancing, during which te rauparaha chanted a song of triumph, which was especially offensive to his enemies, taunting them, as it did, with a lack of courage, and foretelling even greater misfortunes that were yet to befall them:-- "when will your anger dare? when will your power arise? salute your child with your nose. but how salute him now? you will see the rejoicing tide of the warrior's coming glee, and the departure of rongo-ma-whiti." while te rauparaha was enjoying the fruits of his victory, his forces received welcome reinforcements from two quarters. the news of battles fought and laurels won had reached taranaki, where the ngati-tama chief, te puoho, and some of his followers, whose curiosity had been aroused by the tales told by their returned tribesmen, came down to learn the truth of the matter for themselves. close upon their heels came the long-hoped-for band of ngati-raukawa, who signalised their advent by at once attacking the settlements in the rangitikei and manawatu districts. while one party skirted the coast,[ ] the other struck inland, and under their chiefs, te whatu and te whetu, surrounded and captured a ngati-apa _pa_ at rangiure, and then proceeded to pikitane, where they killed a number of the resident people and made the rest prisoners. these two settlements had been taken completely by surprise, their people little dreaming that a war party was marching through the land. no better prepared were the ngati-apa then living at awahuri, who were next attacked, and their chief, named te aonui, was added to the train of captives. the invaders then pushed their victorious march down the course of the oroua river, as far as its junction with the manawatu. here they crossed the larger stream, and immediately attacked the _pa_ at te whakatipua. this assault was stoutly resisted by the chiefs, kaihinu and piropiro, who paid the penalty with their lives, but the remainder of the people who were not shot by the invaders were spared on proffering a humble submission. this was practically the only discreet course open to them. not only were they placed at a serious disadvantage, away from their fighting _pas_, but many of the ngati-raukawa were armed with guns, while the rangitane people had not as yet been able to discard the wooden spears and stone clubs of their forefathers. the rapid movements of the ngati-raukawa, and the completeness of their captures, had prevented the news of their presence being despatched to the adjoining settlements; and, as a consequence, when they ascended the manawatu and came upon the little _pa_ at rotoatane, situated not far from tiakitahuna,[ ] they were able to attack and capture it almost before the people could be summoned from the fields. not that it was a bloodless victory. a rangitane chief, named tina, fought with desperation, and, before he was overpowered by superior numbers, three of the assailants were stretched dead at his feet. once more the advance was sounded, the objective this time being the _pa_ at tiakitahuna itself. this settlement was under the chieftainship of toringa and tamati panau, the latter being the father of the chief kerei te panau,[ ] who until recently lived at awapuni. these men were evidently more alert than their neighbours, for no sooner did the _taua_ come in sight than they took to their canoes and paddled across to the opposite bank of the river. while the two tribes were thus ranged on opposite sides of the stream, the rangitane had time to consider the position. tamati panau was the first to seek an explanation, by calling out to te whatu, "where is the war party from?" clear and quick came the answer back, "from the north." that was sufficient for toringa, who had already tested the mettle of the northerners, and he at once sent a curse across the water, hurled at the heads of the invaders with all the venom that tribal hatred and a sense of injured vanity could instil. whether it was the dread of toringa's denunciation, or whether the ngati-raukawa were satisfied with their unbroken course of victory, is not clear to the present-day historian; but the rangitane traditions relate that, after firing a single shot from one of their muskets, the invaders retired from the district, taking their prisoners with them, and made their way south to join te rauparaha, who was anxiously awaiting their coming. the prospect opened up to these new-comers was far beyond anything that they had dreamed. in fact, so fascinated was te ahu-karamu with the new and beautiful country which his great kinsman had conquered that, after a reasonable rest, he returned to taupo for the purpose of bringing the whole of his people away from a position which was daily becoming more exposed to the aggression of the waikato tribes. but his designs in this direction were nearly thwarted by the persistency with which the tribe clung to their northern home, even in defiance of his threat to invoke the wrath of his _atua_[ ] if they dared to question the command of their chief. finding that the terrors of his god had no influence upon them, karamu adopted an instrument of the devil, and, taking a torch in his hand, brought his obdurate tribesmen to their senses by burning every house in the _pa_ to the ground. rendered thus houseless and homeless, there was nothing for the dejected people to do but to follow their imperious leader. in his journey back to kapiti he was joined by two of the most famous chiefs of that day--te whatanui and te heuheu, the former of whom was destined to become the patriarch of horowhenua and the protector of its persecuted people. collecting a strong retinue of followers, the three chiefs set off in by the same route which karamu had previously travelled down the valley of the rangitikei, varying the monotony of the journey[ ] through the ngati-apa country by occasionally chasing frightened fugitives, in order to gratify their pride and glut their appetite. upon their arrival at kapiti long and anxious consultations followed between the chiefs, the result of which was that te whatanui at last consented to migrate[ ] and throw in his fortunes with te rauparaha. this was eventually accomplished in - , the consolidation of the ngati-toa and ngati-raukawa tribes making their future absolutely secure and bringing te rauparaha's wildest dreams of conquest within measurable distance of accomplishment. his broadened aspirations had long before this extended across the strait; and, next to the conquest of the coast on which he was now operating, it had become his greatest ambition to measure his strength against the natives of the middle island. their reputed wealth in greenstone had aroused his avarice, while the prospect of acquiring additional territory appealed strongly to his love of power. but before he was able to perfect his plans for carrying into effect this new stroke of aggression, an event occurred which was destined to have important results. it will be remembered that the crowning circumstance which had induced te rauparaha to leave kawhia was the sight of a vessel beating through cook strait. he had there and then settled in his mind that this part of the coast was soon to become an important rendezvous for whalers, &c., and already his anticipations were being realised with an amazing rapidity. the whalers were now frequent visitors to kapiti, and many were the marvels which they brought in their train. but most of all were the natives absorbed in the prospect of securing from these rough seafarers guns and ammunition, steel tomahawks, and other weapons, which would give them an advantage over their enemies in the only business then worth consideration--the business of war. many of these ships, however, had not come prepared for this traffic,[ ] and the lack of guns, rather than any hesitation to part with them, made the process of arming a tribe a slow one. it had at least proved much too slow for some of the more restless spirits of the race; and impatience, added to a natural love of adventure, had led some of them to ship to sydney, and even to england, in the hope of bringing back with them the means of accelerating their enemies' destruction. of these latter hongi had been a conspicuous example, and the success which had attended his mission to england roused a spirit of emulation in the breasts of other chiefs, who were only waiting the opportunity of following his example. of these, te pehi kupe, the conqueror of kapiti, was one of the few who were signally successful. knowing no language but his own, having only the vaguest notions of what a voyage to england meant, and a very precarious prospect of ever being brought back, this man had thrown himself on board an english whaler, and, resolute against all dissuasions, and even against physical force, had insisted upon being carried to a country of which he had but two ideas--king george, of whom he had heard, and guns, which he had seen and hoped to possess. thus it came about that, while the ship _urania_ was lying becalmed in cook strait, about five or six miles from the land, on february , , captain reynolds perceived three large canoes, fully manned, approaching the vessel. doubtful what such a demonstration might portend, captain reynolds put his ship in a condition to resist an attack if necessary; and when the canoes were within hail, he, by word and sign, endeavoured to warn them off. had he chosen, he might easily have sent the frail-looking barques to the bottom by a single shot from the ship's guns; but, unlike many another skipper of those days, captain reynolds was a man actuated by considerations which went beyond himself, and the thought of the retaliation which might fall upon other mariners coming to the shores of new zealand restrained him from committing any such act of brutality. fortunately there was no need for drastic action, and the behaviour of the natives was such as to leave no doubt in the mind of the captain that their intentions were of a peaceable character. te pehi boldly directed his crew to paddle alongside the ship, and, divesting himself of all his clothing except a mat which was slung across his shoulders, he, with the swiftness of an athlete, climbed on board. when he reached the deck, he endeavoured by signs and gestures to convey to captain reynolds that what he wanted was arms and ammunition, and, on being informed that the ship had none to spare, he coolly indicated that, such being the case, he had decided to remain on board and proceed to europe[ ] to see king george. these words he had evidently learned from some of captain reynolds' predecessors, for he was able to pronounce them with sufficient distinctness to be clearly understood. the audacity of this proposal completely staggered the master of the _urania_, and he at once tried to nip such ambitious hopes in the bud by peremptorily ordering the chief back to his canoe. te pehi, however, met this direction by calling to his men to move the canoe away from the ship, and the captain next sought to give his command practical force by throwing the chief overboard, in the hope and belief that the canoes would pick him up out of the sea. but in this he was again checkmated. the chief threw himself down on the deck and seized hold of two ring-bolts, with so powerful a grip that it was impossible to tear him away without such violence as the humanity of captain reynolds would not permit. at this critical juncture a light breeze sprang up, and te pehi improved the favourable circumstance by ordering his men to paddle to the shore, as he was going to see king george, and that he would soon return. this command was at once obeyed, and the breeze carrying the _urania_ off the land, captain reynolds was reluctantly compelled to keep the chief on board that night. but, far from satisfied with his self-constituted passenger, he next day made another effort to force te pehi on shore, and nearly lost his ship in the attempt. this narrow escape, and the favourable conditions for getting away from new zealand, to some extent reconciled the captain to an acceptance of the situation; but his chagrin was as great as was the delight of the chief, when it was found that there was no option but to keep him on board for the remainder of the voyage. with more intimate acquaintance, the relations between the captain and chief grew to be of the most friendly nature, and they lived together, both on shipboard and on shore, the captain taking a kindly interest in explaining to his protégé the mysteries of the great world upon which he was entering, while the native clung to his new-found friend with a confiding affection.[ ] the _urania_ ultimately reached liverpool, where te pehi was the subject of much public attention. he was shown over the principal manufactories in manchester and london, his great anxiety to see king george was gratified, and, although he was subject to a good deal of sickness, yet, thanks to the care of captain reynolds, he made an excellent recovery. after about a year's residence in england, he was placed on board h.m. ship _the thames_, and in october, , he sailed for his native land, loaded with presents of clothing and agricultural implements, which were given him by benevolently minded people in the hope that, combined with the knowledge of their use and blessing, which he had acquired in england, they would exercise an elevating influence upon his countrymen when he should return amongst them. vain hope; for on his arrival at sydney, te pehi reversed the beautiful biblical allegory, and turned his pruning hooks into spears and his ploughshares into guns and ammunition, to aid in the work of waging eternal warfare against the enemies of his tribe.[ ] early in the year , and immediately after te pehi's departure for england, te rauparaha found that, in consequence of the many recent additions to his forces, the number of natives who had placed themselves under his command was then sufficient to enable him to begin the main purpose of his conquest, namely, the systematic occupation of the land.[ ] he and his own immediate tribe having decided to occupy the island of kapiti, where they could be in closer touch with the whalers, he now proceeded to partition the country along the coast amongst the new arrivals. the first division led to civil war and domestic feuds between a section of ngati-raukawa and the ngati-tama from taranaki, under te puoho, which at one time threatened to destroy all that he had already accomplished; and it was not until a new allotment was agreed upon, by which ngati-awa, to whom ngati-tama were closely related, were given exclusive possession of the country south of the kukutauaki stream, and the ngati-raukawa sole dominion over the district northward of that boundary as far as the wangaehu river, that his power to resist his enemies was restored by the restoration of harmony amongst his friends. not that there was any immediate danger of attack; for his incessant raids upon the ngati-apa and muaupoko tribes had reduced them to the condition of a shattered and fugitive remnant, incapable alike of organised attack or organised defence. it was probably one of the proudest days of te rauparaha's life when, standing on kapiti, he formally transferred the whole of the coast to his followers by right of conquest, than which no maori could hope for a better title, and proclaimed to the assembled people the precise districts which were to be their future homes, where they were to cultivate, to catch eels, to snare and spear birds. these dispositions, however, did not imply that he was prepared to surrender his supreme authority over the lands, and the fact that he desired to, and intended to, retain his right of suzerainty was made abundantly clear. "the lands i now give you are in our joint rule, but i shall be greater in power than you individually"; such were the terms in which the transfer was made, and the people acquiesced in a unanimous "it is right, o raha! it is as you say." but ngati-toa, ngati-raukawa and ngati-awa were commissioned to do something more than merely occupy the land. in imperious tones the great chief commanded them: "clear the weeds from off my field." in other and less figurative words, they were to kill and persecute the conquered peoples without pity and without mercy; and perhaps it would have been well for ngati-raukawa had they more faithfully obeyed his instructions, instead of extending a sheltering arm to ngati-apa and muaupoko, both of whom subsequently proved themselves so unworthy of this clemency.[ ] under the arrangement thus determined upon at kapiti the country round the beautiful lake at horowhenua was taken possession of by that grand old member of a magnificent race, te whatanui, and those people who had come from the north with him. the district now known as lower manawatu was occupied by another section of the ngati-raukawa people, under te whetu, and, still higher up, rangitikei came under the dominion of nepia taratoa, a chief who seems to have been as generous to ngati-apa as whatanui was to muaupoko. southward of horowhenua, as far as the present harbour of wellington, the country was subsequently given over to ngati-awa, who were in settled possession when the first european colonists arrived. here in - pomare, their chief, led the ngati-mutunga _hapu_ of the ngati-awa people, who forcibly occupied the shores of the great bay, where they hoped to cultivate the friendship of the whalers,[ ] whose commerce was so profitable to them. their tenure, however, was not an undisputed one. they were subjected to frequent raids and incessant harassment from the wairarapa tribe, whom they had displaced, and who deeply resented being thus deprived of their one avenue of communication with the _pakeha_. this tribe, though powerless to retrieve the aggression of ngati-awa, missed no opportunity of irritating them, and pomare was not reluctant to hand over his trust to some other chief, so soon as he could be honourably relieved of it. this opportunity came when, after the fall of the puke-rangiora _pa_ in , the survivors of that (for ngati-awa) disastrous day, together with the flower of their tribe from their other settlements, abandoned taranaki, and came down, a fugitive host, to shelter under the protecting wing of te rauparaha. with te puni, wi tako, and wharepouri, an arrangement was entered into in , whereby the land round the harbour and the right to contest the ownership of the territory with the unexterminated portion of the ngati-kahungunu were to be ceded to them for the consideration of a greenstone _mere_. pomare was perhaps the more ready to relinquish possession of what is now amongst the most valuable land in the dominion, because he had become possessed of information which seemed to open up a much more agreeable prospect than resisting the inconvenient incursions of his wairarapa enemies. one of the young men of his tribe, paka-whara, who had shipped on board a whaler, had just returned from a southern cruise, with the intelligence that the chatham islands were populated by a sleek and inoffensive people, who might be expected to fall an easy prey to such hardened veterans in war as ngati-awa could now furnish. pomare at once acted upon the inspiration; and chartering, partly by payment and partly by intimidation, the british brig _rodney_, he sailed with his followers in november, , for the chathams, where, by a fearful destruction of human life, the well-conditioned, unwarlike morioris were reduced within the short space of two years to a remnant of two hundred souls. whether the allocation of these districts to these particular chiefs was due to their own choice or to the will of te rauparaha is not known; but in the case of te whetu the former appears to have been the fact. during the raid which he made upon manawatu while migrating to kapiti, he had secured amongst his captives a handsome young rangitane woman named hinetiti, whose charms so pleased him that when he reached kapiti he made her his wife. hine's gentleness moved her lord and master in a way that sterner methods would not, and she soon obtained such an influence over him that her will became his desire. doubtless the memory of her old home was ever present with her, even amongst the beauties of kapiti; and, when the partition of the country was being spoken of in the _kaingas_, she urged te whetu to take her back to the banks of the manawatu, where she might be once more with her friends and relatives. in deference to this wish, te whetu brought her to a little settlement named te iwi te kari, near foxton. with them came the ngati-wehiwehi _hapu_, bringing the prisoners whom they had taken eighteen months before, and together they occupied the district around matai-kona. the manawatu was still well stocked with rangitane, for many of their larger settlements in the upper portion of the district had not been so completely depopulated as some of the more southern _pas_ by the captures and slaughters of the marauding northerners. the presence of the ngati-raukawa in the midst of their country put no check upon their freedom, and, according to their ancient custom, they moved about from one _kainga_ to another at their pleasure. indeed, the relations between the rangitane and ngati-raukawa appear to have been of the most friendly nature after the return of the captives from kapiti, a fact which the former attribute to the marriage of te whetu with their chieftainess, but which in reality was due to the generosity of the ngati-raukawa, who, had they chosen, might have left nothing but smoking ruins and bleaching bones to tell of the rangitane's former existence. the feeling, however, was not so cordial between the rangitane and the natives immediately under the leadership of te rauparaha, who allowed no circumstance to mitigate his extreme desire for revenge; and, although no pitched battles took place, there were occasional skirmishes and massacres which served to keep alive the fires of hate. in like manner he constantly harried the muaupoko and such members of the ngati-apa tribe as he now and then fell in with, until these people, feeling life to be unbearable if they were to be hunted like beasts of prey, decided to place themselves beyond the reach of so relentless a tormentor. they accordingly, to the number of three hundred souls, including women and children, determined upon flight into the wairarapa; and there they threw themselves upon the mercy of the ngati-kahungunu, who might be expected to display some sympathy for other victims of the suffering from which they themselves had not escaped. but here again the hapless people were doomed to a bitter experience. instead of being received with the open arms of welcome, they were cruelly set upon and driven back over the tararua ranges, because of some old and unavenged act of violence which their friends had committed, but of which they had probably never heard. spurned from the only asylum which appeared to be open to them, ngati-apa returned to rangitikei and sought the protection of rangihaeata and nepia taratoa, to both of whom they paid tribute for the right to live. muaupoko placed themselves under the protecting arm of a ngati-raukawa chief named tuahine, whose heart was touched by their destitute and defenceless condition. but his intervention was of little avail. however willing he might have been--and there is no reason to doubt his sincerity--he proved quite unable to shield them against the never-dying wrath of te rauparaha. hearing from some of the ngati-raukawa people that the remnant of the muaupoko tribe was once more beginning to gather round the horowhenua and papaitonga lakes, he organised a force of ngati-toa, ngati-huia and ngati-tama warriors, and marched upon papaitonga in defiance of the vehement protests of tuahine and many other ngati-raukawa chiefs, who wished to have done with this incessant slaughter. this lake, which covers an area of about one hundred and twenty-five acres, lies a few miles to the southward of horowhenua. from time immemorial it had been the home of the muaupoko tribe, by whom it was originally called waiwiri, but in more recent days the name of the larger of the two gem-like islands encircled by its waters has been applied to the whole lake. papaitonga, which signifies, "the islet of the south," is a name which reveals in bright relief the poetic fancy of the maori; for, even now, when its scenic charms have to some extent succumbed to the demands of settlement, the lake and its surroundings still present one of the most charming beauty spots in the whole dominion. a deep fringe of tree-ferns and underwood, backed by a dense forest of native bush, skirts its north and northeast shores. southward, through occasional breaches in the woods, can be seen the open undulating ground, gradually rising until it reaches the foot of the tararuas, whose snow-capped peaks seem to touch the azure sky. westward, stretching away to the sea, are the low flats over which meanders the slow-winding waiwiri stream, which forms the outlet of the lake. here the visitor is indeed on classic ground, for there is scarcely a feature of the landscape which has not, for the maori, some historic association, some tragic story, some deepening memory of the hoary past. to this day the island of papaitonga, so restful with its luxuriant crown of soft foliage, but which in the days of old was a sanguinary battle-ground, remains "a perfect necropolis of human bones," lying concealed beneath a living shroud of vegetation, which has silently risen to obscure from human sight the gruesome evidence of human savagery. it was to this spot that te rauparaha now, in - , led his warriors, arriving there late in the afternoon. his first care was effectually to surround the lake. this he did by posting strong detachments of men at various points, the reason for this disposition being a doubt as to which direction the fugitives would take in their flight, which rendered it expedient to intercept them at every possible avenue of escape. ten men were then left in concealment near the canoe-landing, the smallness of the number being designed to deceive the inhabitants of the island, who at this time numbered several hundred. it was arranged that these men should, in the early morning, call to the people on the island to bring them a canoe, the intention being to create the impression in the minds of the islanders that they were a party of friends. accordingly, when those in the _pa_ began to be astir, te riu called out to kahurangi:-- "_e kahu, e! hoea mai te waka ki au. ko tou tangata tenei._" (o kahu, bring over a canoe for me, i am your man.) either the call was not heard, or a lurking suspicion forbade a ready compliance with the request, for no movement was made by the islanders in the direction desired until te riu had called again:-- "_hoea mai te waka, kia maua ko to tangata. ko te ruru tenei._" (send a canoe for me and your friend. te ruru is here.) this last appeal was not without avail. a chief named takare ordered two men to paddle a canoe across and bring te ruru to the island, at the same time impressing upon them the need of keeping a sharp lookout on shore to prevent unpleasant surprises. no sooner had the canoe put off than two of the ngati-toa divested themselves of their clothing, and waded out amongst the _raupo_ flags which grew near the landing, keeping only their heads above the water. one was armed with a tomahawk, and the other with a stone club known as an onewa, and their mission was to prevent the return of the canoe, should the men who brought it refuse to take the party on board. on came the canoe; but when passing the bulrushes, the rowers, who were peering cautiously about, detected the heads of the two men amongst the _raupo_, and in an instant the conviction of treachery flashed upon them. the man in the stern of the canoe excitedly called to his companion to shove off; but whakatupu, the ngati-toa, was too quick for him. springing from his concealment, he laid hold of the bow of the canoe and began to haul it towards the landing. the muaupoko nearest to him made a lunge at his head with the paddle, but whakatupu skilfully parried the thrust with his short-handled axe, and then, turning upon his assailant, with an unerring blow cleft his skull, and sent the lifeless body reeling back into the water. when the man in the stern of the canoe saw the fate of his companion, he immediately leaped overboard, and dived, coming to the surface again well out of the reach of the enemy. by diving and swimming, he at length succeeded in reaching the shore, where he concealed himself amongst some low brushwood, only to find that he had been tracked, and that it was his fate to be shot by aperahama. the report of the gun, echoing through the silent bush and across the face of the placid lake, was the signal to the concealed warriors that the day's work had commenced, and to the unhappy islanders the announcement that the dogs of war had again been let loose upon them. they instantly prepared for flight, for to men without guns resistance was hopeless, even had it been possible. while they were swarming into their canoes, their panic was considerably accelerated by the sight of a ngati-huia warrior swimming towards the island discharging his musket as he swam. he had tied his cartouche box round his neck, and with his hands he loaded and re-loaded his gun, while he propelled himself through the water by his legs. when he reached the island, the inhabitants had already left, and were making for the shore. here they were met by a deadly fusilade from one of te rauparaha's detachments, who were quietly waiting for them. they then turned their canoes, and made an effort to land at another point, only to be driven back by a second attack as disastrous as the first. attempt after attempt was made to land, and here and there a strong swimmer or a swift runner succeeded in escaping; but the harvest of death was heavy, the bulk of the people, including all the chiefs, being shot. "as for the few who escaped," says a native account, "some took refuge at horowhenua, and others fled to the mountains. after the fall of papaitonga, the war party went on to horowhenua, where there was more killing. driven from there, the muaupoko fugitives crossed over to weraroa and fled to the hills. then the war party returned to papaitonga. what followed was according to maori custom, but who would care to tell of it? i have a horror of that part of the story. if you want to know, ask the old men of the ngati-toa--ngahuku, tungia, and the others. that is all." amongst those who were slain in this fight was toheriri,[ ] a muaupoko chief, whose wife was inspired by the occasion to compose a lament in which she mourned the death of her husband, and implied that tuahine had broken his pledge by exposing her people to the raid. but, in justice to that chief, it has to be admitted that he was entirely powerless to interpose on their behalf; while, on the other hand, the whole incident serves to show how ruthlessly te rauparaha cherished his desire for revenge, and how inadequate he considered the lapse of time and the slaughter of hundreds to satisfy the _manes_ of his children murdered by muaupoko at papaitonga. so muaupoko died--or what was left of them lived, and were suffered to retain some of their lands around horowhenua lake. pathetic laments for their lost lands and their departed _mana_ have been composed, and are still sung amongst them. one chanted by taitoko in a lamentation over the dead of his tribe is universally known and sung by the maoris of the coast:-- "the sun is setting, drawn to his ocean cave-- sinking o'er the peak of pukehinau. here wild with grief am i, lonely as the bird in the great waste of waters. wait, wait awhile, o sun, and we'll go down together." [ ] "it is not unusual for the natural _ariki_, or chief of a _hapu_, to be, in some respects, supplanted by an inferior chief, unless the hereditary power of the former happens to be accompanied by intellect and bravery" (_travers_). [ ] i have here followed the narrative of travers; but, in his _history and traditions of the taranaki coast_ mr. percy smith makes it appear that at the moment of migration te ariwi was being besieged; that the exodus was not premeditated, but was suggested to te rauparaha by a waikato chief as the only means of escape, and that the evacuation of the _pa_ was carried out at night. as affording an interesting sidelight upon the diversity of opinion which prevails as to the cause of te rauparaha's migration, i here append the following note which i have received from mr. h. m. stowell, a descendant of the great hongi. "there is one striking rauparaha fact which has not yet been properly given: rauparaha had become a pest among his own people, and they warned him to beware--this at his kawhia home. consequently, when the _taua_, or war party, of my people, under waka nene and his brother patuone, arrived at kawhia on their way south, and invited te rauparaha to join them, he was only too willing. he was in personal danger at home, and he could only lose his life, at the worst, by coming south. he therefore came. when the war parties returned to kawhia, rauparaha at once gave out to his people that he intended to move south permanently. this being so, his people did not take any steps to molest him, and in due course he came south. these facts are important, as showing that his coming south was not a mere whim or accident; on the contrary, it was imperative, because he had made himself obnoxious to his own people." [ ] john white, _ancient history of the maori_. [ ] this woman was one of the wives whom te rauparaha had taken over after the death of hape taurangi at maungatautari. [ ] on the way down one disaster overtook the party. in the passage of the mokau a canoe capsized and the only child of te rangihaeata was drowned. it was due to this circumstance that rangihaeata in after years sometimes adopted the name of mokau. [ ] during the night a peculiar incident, illustrative of maori life at this period, occurred. one of the women, the wife of a chief, had a child with her, which, in its restlessness, began to cry. te rauparaha, fearing that his stratagem would be betrayed by the wailing of the child, told its mother to choke it, saying, "i am that child." the parents at once obeyed the command, and strangled the child. [ ] as illustrating the peculiar methods of maori warfare, it is said that during the night following this battle te wherowhero came close to the ngati-toa camp and called out: "oh raha, how am i and my people to be saved?" to which te rauparaha replied: "you must go away this very night. do not remain. go; make haste." following this advice, the waikatos left the field, leaving their fires burning, and when the ngati-awa reinforcements arrived in the morning, no enemy was to be seen. [ ] this is according to travers's account. some authorities say that pomare could not have been there at that time. [ ] afterwards a thorn in te rauparaha's side: the saviour of wellington in , and the honourable opponent of the british forces in the waitara war in . [ ] between the years - a violent dispute raged between the ngati-raukawa and ngati-apa tribes as to their respective rights to sell a valuable block of land known as rangitikei-manawatu to the provincial government. ngati-raukawa claimed the land on the ground of conquest, while ngati-apa urged that the marriage of pikinga, their chieftainess, with rangihaeata was a bond between them and te rauparaha, which induced him to protect rather than to destroy them. te rauparaha and rangihaeata were furious when they heard of these pretensions, and severely upbraided ngati-raukawa for not having permitted them to exterminate ngati-apa, whom they described as "the remnant of their meal." [ ] te uira was at this time the wife of te poa, who was killed at this massacre. hononga was te rauparaha's daughter by his second wife, kahui-rangi. [ ] now wellington. [ ] this decision, it is said, was taken partly because they took umbrage at te rauparaha's overbearing manner, and partly because they had heard that another waikato raid upon taranaki was imminent. this was in the year . [ ] this would be about the year . [ ] this force, to the number of , was led by te ahu-karamu, a chief who afterwards became a prominent and progressive leader of the maori people on the west coast. [ ] called by the early european settlers "jackeytown." [ ] kerei te panau was at this time a lad of about ten years of age, and probably owes the fact that he lived to be about ninety-four years of age to this flight across the river in the canoes. [ ] _atua_--a god. [ ] this migration is known to the ngati-raukawa tribe as the _heke whirinui_, owing to the fact that the _whiri_, or plaited collars of their mats, were made very large for the journey. [ ] for this purpose, he and te heuheu returned to taupo, some of the party passing across the manawatu block, so as to strike the rangitikei river inland, whilst the others travelled along the beach to the mouth of that river, intending to join the inland party some distance up. the inland party rested at rangataua, where a female relative of te heuheu, famed for her extreme beauty, died of wounds inflicted upon her during the journey by a stray band of ngati-apa. a great _tangi_ was held over her remains, and te heuheu caused her head to be preserved, he himself calcining her brains and strewing the ashes over the ground, which he declared to be for ever _tapu_. his people were joined by the party from the beach road at the junction of the waituna with the rangitikei, where the chief was presented with three ngati-apa prisoners. these were immediately sacrificed, and then the whole party resumed the journey to taupo. amongst the special events which occurred on the march was the capture of a ngati-apa woman and two children on the south side of the rangitikei river. the unfortunate children were sacrificed during the performance of some solemn religious rite, and the woman, though in the first instance saved by te heuheu, who wished to keep her as a slave, was killed and eaten by tangaru, one of the ngati-raukawa leaders. shortly after this, te whiro, one of the greatest of the ngati-apa chiefs, with two women, were taken prisoners, and the former was put to death with great ceremony and cruelty, as _utu_ for the loss of some of te heuheu's people who had been killed by ngati-apa long before, but the women were saved (_travers_). [ ] the native trade consisted of dressed flax and various kinds of fresh provisions, including potatoes, which, prior to the advent of the ngati-toa tribe, had not been planted on the west coast of the north island. [ ] the words which te pehi is reported to have used were "go europe, see king georgi." dr. john savage in his _account of new zealand_, refers to the apparent preference which the natives had for the word europe over that of england. he says of a native whom he took to london with him, from the bay of islands: "i never could make mayhanger pronounce the word england, therefore i was content to allow him to make use of europe instead, which he pronounced without difficulty." possibly te pehi experienced the same difficulty of pronunciation. [ ] the maori became popular in the _urania_, and at monte video plunged into the sea and rescued the drowning captain, who had fallen overboard (_rusden_). [ ] captain reynolds was allowed a sum of £ by the british government as compensation for the trouble and expense to which he had been put by his enforced alliance with te pehi (see _n.z. historical records_). the account of the chief's visit to england will be found in the volume of the _library of entertaining knowledge_ for . [ ] one of the migrations which took place about this time consisted of ngati-raukawa men under the leadership of nepia taratoa. it is known in history as the _heke kariritahi_, from the fact that those warriors who were armed with muskets had hit upon the shrewd plan of enlarging the touch-holes of their guns, in order to save the time which otherwise would be occupied in priming. they were thus able to keep up a much more rapid fire upon the enemy. te whatanui came down with this _heke_, to consult further with te rauparaha, but finding him absent from kapiti, he returned to taupo to prepare for the migration of his own people. [ ] during the hearing by the native land court in of the dispute which arose between the ngati-raukawa and ngati-apa tribes as to the right to sell the rangitikei-manawatu block of land to the provincial government of wellington, chief judge fenton remarked to mr. travers, who was appearing for ngati-raukawa, "the fact is, mr. travers, it appears to me that the flaw in your clients' title is that they did not kill and eat all these people." [ ] at times there were many whalers there--as many as a hundred--of various nations. here they stayed while whales came near the coast: but when these ceased to come near the coast, the whalers went out on the ocean, and the ships which were full of oil went each to its own land, and rauparaha went back to his people and home at kapiti (_ngati-toa account_). [ ] toheriri was prominent in the conspiracy of in connection with the gift of canoes. after that event, he, with his particular _hapu_, went to the wairarapa for two years, and then returned to papaitonga, where he was killed on this occasion, it is said, with great barbarity. chapter v the southern raids the events just narrated have brought us in point of time to early in the year , by which period te rauparaha was unquestionably master of the whole coast from whanganui to wellington. not only was his supremacy indisputable in that he had completely silenced his enemies, but success had brought its natural result in the shape of numerous reinforcements, which had come from the shores of taupo to share in his adventurous cause. thus he was both free and able to give his undivided attention to the realisation of a dream which he had long cherished, and which he one day hoped to realise. this was no less ambitious a scheme than the invasion and conquest of the middle island, the forest-clad hills and snow-capped mountains of which were plainly discernible as he gazed wistfully across the broken waters of raukawa (cook's strait). but it was not the scenic beauties of the island which attracted the keen eye of te rauparaha, for these alone would have no charm for him. his mind was cast in the material rather than in the æsthetic mould; his thoughts ran to practical rather than to artistic ends, and the real magnet which attracted him southward was the hope of possessing himself of the large store of greenstone which, according to report, the ngai-tahu people had collected at kaikoura as the result of their periodical excursions to the west coast, where alone this valuable jade could be obtained.[ ] avarice and love of conquest were driving forces in his plans, but there was yet another motive operating to impel him onward. if the reader will recall the circumstances attending the battle of waiorua, it will be remembered that the host which on that occasion invaded kapiti had been collected from far and near. some among them had even come from the tribe of ngai-tahu, which was then the most powerful branch of the maori race occupying the middle island, of which they had dispossessed the ngati-mamoe some two hundred years before. one of the principal _pas_ of these people in the northern end of the island was situated on a high cliff overlooking the bay of kaikoura, which at this time was estimated to contain between three and four thousand souls, living under the direction of a chief named rerewaka. when the fugitives from kapiti reached their settlements on the middle island, and carried with them marvellous tales of te rauparaha's prowess in battle, these stories only tended to intensify the feelings of hatred and envy already cherished by the southern chiefs. their impotent rage found expression in a vain and unfortunate boast made by rerewaka, which supplied te rauparaha with the strongest of all incentives to a maori raid--the desire for revenge. rerewaka had not himself been present at the battle of waiorua, otherwise he might have been more modest in his language towards the invincible te rauparaha. but he had had friends with the allies, and the chagrin felt at their annihilation, and the taunting song of triumph chanted by the victorious ngati-toa, in which the subjection of the ngai-tahu was hinted at, provoked him to declare in an unguarded moment that "if ever te rauparaha dared to set foot on his land, he would rip his belly open with a _niho mango_."[ ] this oral indiscretion was overheard by a slave standing by, who shortly afterwards, making his escape, reported rerewaka's boast to rauparaha. the chief of the ngati-toa heard with placid countenance of his threatened fate, and in answer merely remarked, "so he has said," the apparent unconcern of his reply justifying the native proverb concerning him: "_ko te uri o kapu manawa whiti_" (no one knew his thoughts, whether they were good or evil). he was really glad at heart of this further pretext for attacking and conquering the tribes of the middle island.[ ] but while he had his mind bent upon revenge and his eyes fixed upon the treasure of greenstone, he was in no haste to put his design into execution. leisurely action would enable him to mobilise his own forces, and serve to wrap his enemies in imagined security; and so for two years he waited patiently, keeping his warriors in fighting trim by repeated skirmishes with the shattered remnants of the muaupoko and other northern tribes. but now his plans had fully matured, and by this time he had succeeded in gathering a large quantity of arms and ammunition from the europeans, who, having learnt its advantages, were making kapiti a frequent port of call and a place of some importance in the whaling industry. with these weapons he equipped his chosen men, who, when fighting with their native _meres_, were superior even to the best of the ngai-tahu or rangitane, but, when armed with the more modern implements of the _pakeha_, became simply invincible. his fleet of canoes[ ] also had been strengthened by the captures he had made after the battle of waiorua, so that he had ample accommodation for the three hundred and forty men who comprised his expeditionary force. with this force, the most perfectly equipped that he had yet commanded, rauparaha crossed the strait, making rangitoto (d'urville island) his first place of call. here he found a section of the rangitane tribe, the descendants of the people whom captain cook had first met at ship cove, who had now become powerful in the sense of being numerous. but where the odds of skill and arms were against them, numbers only supplied more victims for the cannibal feast which followed the battle. everywhere the islanders were defeated and put to rout, many of them being eaten on the spot, and as many more carried back to kapiti, there to await the dictates of their captors' appetites. or, if they were fortunate enough to have their lives spared, the reprieve only enhanced their misfortune by carrying slavery and degradation with it. rauparaha on this occasion swept like a withering blast over the whole of the northern portion of the marlborough province, neither the seclusion of the pelorus sound nor the inaccessibility of the wairau and awatere valleys protecting the inhabitants from the rapacity of his warriors. deflecting their course from d'urville island, they next proceeded to the point known in maori legend as "kupe's spear," but more recently styled jackson's head. here a temporary division of their forces took place, the ngati-awa allies proceeding up queen charlotte sound as far as waitohi, the pelorus sound being the objective of te rauparaha. the tribe who occupied the shores of this great waterway was the ngati-kuia, an offshoot of ngati-apa, who were famed for their skill as fishermen, but who did little cultivation. their principal _pa_, a semi-fortified village called hikapu, stood at the junction of the pelorus and kenepuru reaches; and, when the fleet of northern canoes was seen sweeping up the sound, the cry was raised "_te iwi hou e!_" (the newcomers! the new people!) that their coming boded them no good, ngati-kuia knew, and those who could, disappeared into the forest, while those who could not stayed to fight for the _mana_ of their tribe and the honour of their ancestral home. for them the battle was one against fearful odds; for, this being their first acquaintance with firearms, they were seized with panic, and the fight soon degenerated into a massacre. "what are those lights and the smoke we see at the village?" inquired a boy as he was being hurried through the bush by his fugitive father. "that," replied the sobbing parent--"that is ngati-toa burning your ancestors' and our houses."[ ] whatever hesitation te rauparaha may have had about raiding the wairau during this campaign, was dispelled on its being reported to him that the rangitane chief of the valley, te rua-oneone, whose _pa_, called kowhai, was situated near the mouth of the wairau river, had heaped a curse upon his head, an insult which called for prompt and vigorous action. as yet the wairau natives had had no experience of rauparaha's qualities as a fighting chief. but they had heard rumours, and had listened to tales of his doings on the other island, which, although painted in glowing colours, had nevertheless been regarded with contempt by many of the leading chiefs. amongst these incredulous persons was te rua-oneone, who treated the matter so lightly as to remark that "te rauparaha's head would one day be beaten with a fern-root pounder." according to the maori code, there was but one way of dealing with a scoffer who could speak so contemptuously of a chief; and therefore, when the natives of pelorus, d'urville island, and totaranui had been hopelessly beaten, the canoes were ordered to the wairau, where the boastful te rua-oneone had direct experience of what manner of man te rauparaha was. the fight, which took place on the land now enclosed within bank farm, was soon over, and could only have one result. the rangitane were brave men, but their stone and wooden weapons were useless against the muskets of the ngati-toa. te rua-oneone was captured and carried as a slave to kapiti, where he had time and opportunity to reflect upon his defeat, which rauparaha, with appropriate sarcasm, called _tuki tuki patu aruhe_, which signifies "beaten with a fern-root pounder." nor was this merely a raid of bloodshed. rauparaha sought territorial aggrandisement, and adopted the roman principle of securing the fruits of his conquest by planting a colony of his tribe at every centre along the route of his victorious march. in each case the newcomers made slaves of the strong amongst the men and the beautiful amongst the women of the people whom they vanquished.[ ] no sooner had this shattering blow been delivered against the fortunes of ngai-tahu than te rauparaha gave his attention to a matter which from force of circumstances had been neglected for many months. at the earnest solicitation of ngati-raukawa, he now agreed to march against the whanganui people, who, it will be remembered, were responsible for the destruction of one of the several ngati-raukawa migrations prior to the first visit to the south island. a force which, it is said, numbered nearly a thousand fighting men, led by the most distinguished chiefs of the allied tribes, with te rauparaha in supreme command, proceeded up the coast and attacked the putikiwharanui _pa_, which was defended by a garrison almost twice as numerous as the assailants. though not protracted, the struggle was fierce. the defenders made many desperate sorties, fighting with great determination and affording a fine example of courage, during the two months over which the investment extended. the damage, however, which they were able to inflict had no effect in causing the forces of te rauparaha to relinquish their grip. after a spirited defence of eight weeks, the assailants succeeded in carrying the place by storm, and the inhabitants suffered so severely that they were never afterwards able to seek the satisfaction of retaliation.[ ] while the ngati-toa were engaged in these minor operations, an event occurred which increased the _mana_ of their chief amongst his own people and added considerably to his reputation abroad. this was the opportune arrival of his uncle and former comrade, te pehi kupe, who, laden with the store of weapons which he had procured in sydney, was brought back to new zealand at this critical juncture in the history of the tribe.[ ] the jubilation at such an event was necessarily great; not so much, perhaps, because of the wanderer's return, as because of what he had brought with him. there is at least no denying the fact that te pehi soon forgot what little of civilisation he had learned, except in so far as it enabled him to become a more destructive savage. he at once coalesced with his former leader; and with this valuable addition to his staff of councillors, and the enhancement of his munitions of war, te rauparaha felt more than equal to the task of carrying the battle to the gates of kaikoura. out of this extreme confidence grew a further development of the ngati-toa scheme of conquest. their forces were now divided into two sections, the one proceeding to the great bays on the nelson coast, where they intended forcibly establishing themselves, while the remainder, under their old leader, aided by te pehi and a staff of other warriors, prepared to test the merits of rerewaka's boast. it was a fateful day in the summer of when the canoes with three hundred men left d'urville island and turned their prows to the south. although few in numbers compared with the enemy they were going to meet, they knew that the advantage of arms was with them, almost every man being provided with a musket. moreover, they were full of the animation which is born of complete confidence in one's leader, and which, in this case, almost amounted to a superstition. no war party with rauparaha at its head ever took failure into account, some of the warriors even going so far as to declare that "it was only necessary to strike the enemy with the handles of their paddles in order to secure a victory." [illustration: the tiki, kaiapoi. erected on the site of the old kaiapoi pa.] thus, well-armed and confident, the ngati-toa proceeded down the coast, resting the first day at cloudy bay, and subsequently at various other points, and arriving off kaikoura before dawn on the fourth day. not knowing what the exact disposition of the enemy's forces might be, and not being disposed for risks, rauparaha anchored his canoes under the shadow of the peninsula, and then waited for the light. in this decision his characteristic good fortune did not desert him. it so happened that the kaikoura natives were at that very time expecting a visit from some of their tribesmen in the south; and, when the first glimmering of dawn revealed a fleet of canoes on the bay below, there being nothing to indicate the direction from which they had come, the unsuspecting ngai-tahu assumed that their anticipated visitors had arrived. the early risers in the _pa_ set up the song of welcome--_haere-mai, haere-mai_--and soon the whole settlement throbbed with life and activity, indicative of the jubilant expectation of a reunion of friends. whilst the elders busied themselves with preparations for the hospitable entertainment of the strangers, the younger people rushed, shouting gaily, down to the beach, to escort the guests back to the _pa_. the quick eye of te rauparaha at once saw the trap into which his enemy had fallen; and, elated at his amazing good fortune, he ordered the advance of the canoes, which, with a few sweeping strokes of the paddles, were driven swiftly across the intervening water. before the unwary victims had recognised their mistake or recovered from their surprise, the ngati-toa warriors were amongst them, dealing death-blows on every hand. as might have been expected, the ngai-tahu, being totally unarmed and unprepared for the attack, were slaughtered without remorse or resistance, and, as their only safety lay in flight, they beat a breathless retreat towards the _pa_, where for a time the semblance of a stand was made. but the muskets of their assailants were now doing their work of death, while their ruthless charges increased the havoc. before long rerewaka was a prisoner, over a thousand of his people were slain, and his stronghold was in the hands of his most detested enemies. this decisive achievement was fully celebrated during the next ten days, with all the atrocities peculiar to cannibal feasts; and after the savage appetites of the victors had been surfeited with the flesh of their victims, and the nephritic treasures of the _pa_ had been collected, the war party returned to kapiti, carrying rerewaka and four hundred additional prisoners with them, to be killed and eaten at the leisure of their conquerors. the majority of them in due course met this fate, rerewaka himself being killed with especial marks of cruelty and indignity, because of the insulting nature of his language towards the ngati-toa chief.[ ] in consideration of the circumstances which led to this attack upon kaikoura, the victory has ever since been known as _niho mango_, or "the battle of the shark's tooth." after the humiliation of rerewaka and his people at kaikoura, rauparaha's greatest ambition was to pit himself in battle against that section of the ngai-tahu tribe who, under tamaiharanui, rongotara, and other powerful chiefs, held the strongly fortified _pa_ at kaiapohia. but before he had a reasonable excuse for picking a quarrel with the people of kaiapoi, and so attacking them in a manner that would be strictly _tika_, or proper, he had another opportunity of returning to kaikoura, to retrieve the dignity of himself and his friends. the cause of this second invasion, like the previous one, was somewhat remote; but, unlike it, it arose out of a superabundance of love rather than of hate. the offence complained of was not committed against te rauparaha, but against his nephew, rangihaeata. rangihaeata was at this time rapidly rising into fame as a daring and successful warrior, and his place in the tribe naturally demanded that much of his time should be given up to the business of war, with the result that his functions as the head of his household were much neglected. during one of these prolonged periods of absence, his _pa_ at porirua was visited by a chief of the ngati-ira (a branch of the ngati-kahungunu) tribe, named kekerengu. according to tradition, this kekerengu was a man of remarkable beauty of figure and grace of deportment. tall and stalwart of frame, easy of carriage, and engaging in manner, his personal charm was still further enhanced in maori estimation by a particularly artistic _moko_, or tattoo decoration. the introduction of this social lion into rangihaeata's family circle was the cause of all the trouble. kekerengu had so insinuated himself into the affections of the warrior's wives, that when rangihaeata returned from the wars, the breath of scandal was busy with the proceedings of his family circle during his absence. the anger of the chief, on learning what had occurred, knew no bounds. forthwith he sent the fiery cross from _pa_ to _pa_, and in a short space of time a force sufficient for his purpose was enrolled. te rauparaha, to whom the scent of battle was sweet, at once espoused the cause of his injured relative, and together they set out in search of the destroyer of te rangihaeata's domestic happiness. kekerengu knew that, as the result of his indiscreet conduct, retribution would in some form follow him; but, in order to delay the evil day, he judiciously took to his canoe, and with a few of his followers crossed the strait and sought refuge amongst the ngai-tahu of kaikoura.[ ] thither te rauparaha tracked him; but the inhabitants of the _pa_ were not to be taken by surprise a second time. knowing that they were no match for the force they saw approaching, they at once abandoned their settlement and flew down the coast, through the amuri, towards kaiapoi. but this escapade was not to stand between the ngati-toa and their revenge. when they arrived and found the _pa_ empty, they at once decided to go in pursuit. the march was swift and forced, and the invaders soon fell in with the fugitives, as they were camped at the omihi stream. here the unhappy wretches were attacked and routed with great slaughter, the few who escaped death or capture flying in precipitate haste into the bush, through which they made their way to the minor settlements further south. kekerengu's guilt[ ] was now expiated in his own blood and that of his hosts, and therefore ngati-toa might have returned to their homes fully satisfied with the results of their expedition. but the opportunity was so favourable for carrying out the long-cherished design of attacking kaiapoi, that te pehi strenuously counselled going on. te rauparaha, it is said, was seized by some dark foreboding that fate was trifling with him, and endeavoured to argue his lieutenant out of his warlike enthusiasm, but without avail. te pehi was bent upon storming kaiapoi, and for once te rauparaha allowed himself to be overruled by his less cautious comrade. to facilitate the movements of the war party, which numbered about one hundred men, all encumbrances in the shape of prisoners were left in charge of a detachment at omihi, and the canoes, which had been brought round from kaikoura, were manned and taken as far down the coast as the waipara river. there the force disembarked, and hauling the canoes beyond the reach of the tide, pushed on across the plains towards the southern stronghold. kaiapoi was one of the oldest of the ngai-tahu _pas_, as it was admittedly one of their strongest fortresses. it had been built by tu rakautahi in a.d., at the close of the thirty years' war, which had resulted in the expulsion and the almost total annihilation of the ngati-mamoe people. its position had been selected with some strategic skill, for it stood on a narrow tongue of land about five acres in extent, which ran out into the tairutu lagoon, and was surrounded on three sides by the dark waters of that extensive swamp, which stretched for several miles to the north and the south. on the landward side it was protected by a wide and deep ditch, which in peaceful times was bridged over, while its double row of palisades, erected upon massive earthworks and surmounted by curiously carved figures representing gods and ancestors, rendered it so impregnable in the popular estimation that it was sometimes compared to "the inaccessible cliff of god," which none had dared to scale. the internal arrangements were in keeping with the importance of the _pa_ as the social and military centre of the tribe. its population was numerous, wealthy, and distinctly aristocratic, and therefore the domains of the _rangatiras_ and the commonalty were well defined. the dwellings of the chiefs were large and commodious structures, "ornamented inside and out with carving and scroll work." there were storehouses for the man physical, shrines for the man spiritual, playing grounds for old and young, and a burial-place for both when their earthly sojourn was over. the commerce of the _pa_ was conducted through three gates, two of which, kaitangata and hiaka-rere, faced the deep moat, and the third, huirapa, the lagoon on the western side, being connected with the opposite shore by a light wooden footway. but with all its vaunted strength, the _pa_ had, according to critics, a fatal weakness, in that, if subjected to a close investment, it was liable to have its food supply cut off owing to its semi-insularity. its builder had been twitted with this supposed defect when he determined upon the site of his stronghold, and he silenced his critics more by his ready wit than by the soundness of his military judgment. for he said "_kai_" must be "_poi_," or food must be swung to the spot. "potted birds from the forests of kaikoura, fish and mutton birds from the south, _kiore_ and _weka_ from the plains and the mountain ranges"; and so down through the century or more which had passed since then it had been an essential part of the policy of those in authority at the _pa_ to see that its commissariat was not neglected, and that its _whatas_ were always full against the day when its gates might have to be barred to a troublesome enemy.[ ] such was the place which, in the opening months of , the northern force marched to assault; but they had sadly misjudged the position if they imagined that they could take it by surprise. ngai-tahu had warning enough to enable them to gather their people within the palisades, to cut away their bridges, and to stand upon the alert at all the most vulnerable points. when, therefore, te rauparaha arrived under the walls of the _pa_, he adopted the most diplomatic course open to him, and made a virtue of necessity by feigning that he had come only with the most peaceful intent. his first care was to select a suitable site for his camp; he fixed it upon the south-western side of the lagoon, and there calmly sat down to await developments. nor had he long to wait. tamaiharanui, the high priest and leading chief of the ngai-tahu tribe, accompanied by a native named hakitara, proceeded under commission from the people in the _pa_ to inquire the purpose of so unexpected a visit. hakitara was a nga-puhi native, having come originally from the northern portion of the auckland province. when te rauparaha had exchanged salutations with him and the venerable tamaiharanui, he proceeded to furnish the explanation which they had come to seek. in the course of his oration he recited a _tau_, or war song, the idiom of which was more apparent to the nga-puhi than to his companion, who was less learned in northern lore. this battle chant conveyed a message to hakitara which was sinister and disturbing. the protestations of te rauparaha were most ardent in the direction of peace, and his declarations full of the promise of friendship; but the words of his song had been so suspiciously indicative of evil intent, that hakitara felt it incumbent upon him to advise the immediate return of tamaiharanui to the _pa_, while he himself remained in the ngati-toa camp to pick up what scraps of useful information might drop from the lips of incautious retainers. by dint of sedulous inquiry, particularly amongst the slaves, he gleaned enough to stimulate his suspicions, which were more than confirmed when he heard that the northerners had desecrated a newly made grave which they had passed on the march to the _pa_. such an outrage to the dead of ngai-tahu was not the act of friends; and now the living witnesses of te rauparaha's hostility began to pour into kaiapoi, viz., the fugitives who had escaped from the slaughter at omihi. for days they had wandered in the bush and in the by-paths of the open lands, hoping to evade the clutch of their pursuers; and when they arrived with their tale of terror, something more than fair words were needed to convince the inhabitants of the semi-beleaguered _pa_ that ngati-toa had come so far south on a mission of peaceful commerce, and not of resentful war. te rauparaha, with his usual clarity of vision, saw the predicament in which the inopportune arrival of the fugitives had placed him, and promptly determined upon a desperate expedient, which, he hoped, would allay the dark suspicion which he hourly saw growing up around him, and which, if unchecked, would assuredly frustrate his enterprise. not only did he feel it necessary to reiterate his assurances that nothing but a desire to trade for greenstone had brought him to kaiapoi, but he did more. with a recklessness which only a critical situation could justify, he permitted his principal lieutenants--a liberty hitherto denied them--to freely enter the enemy's _pa_, and carry on, with well-simulated earnestness, negotiations for the exchange of greenstone for their own ancient fire-arms and doubtful powder. amongst the first of the ngati-toa chiefs to avail himself of this permission was te pehi,[ ] who, it will be remembered, had, with fatal enthusiasm, inspired the raid, and urged it upon an unwilling leader. together with pokaitara, te aratangata, te kohua, te hua piko, and several other chiefs equally renowned in ngati-toa warfare, te pehi continued to visit and revisit the _pa_ for several days, carrying on a brisk trade, and incidentally noting the interior arrangements of the fortress, its people, and the chances of its speedy capture. meanwhile, the ngai-tahu agent in te rauparaha's camp was not idle, and not the least of hakitara's successes was the fact that he had been able to ingratiate himself into the good opinion of te rauparaha. that astute personage, usually so keen a judge of character, was completely deceived by the clever nga-puhi, whom he had hopes of weaning from the ngai-tahu cause. to this end he presented him with one of the most attractive of his slaves, a lady named te aka, whose charms it was hoped would prove sufficiently strong to draw the nga-puhi warrior back to the north. but te rauparaha's cold calculations were soon set at naught by the warmth of a human heart. te aka was not a free woman. she was a slave, whose _pa_ and whose people had been overrun and destroyed by the ruthless invader, and within her breast there burned the undying desire and hope for revenge. therefore, when she and hakitara came to understand each other, there was soon a joint wit at work to worst the man who fondly believed that the human passions were being harnessed to his political schemes. so confident was he that he would win hakitara over, that he neglected even ordinary prudence in discussing his plans within his hearing. to such excess was this overconfidence carried, that one night he called his chiefs together to a council of war, which was held under the eaves of the _whare_ which hakitara occupied, where every word could be heard by the occupants. here the whole scheme of the capture of kaiapoi was discussed and decided upon; and so hopeful was te rauparaha of success, that he boastingly remarked to te rangihaeata, "soon we shall have our _pa_." "beware of the nga-puhi man," was rangihaeata's whispered advice; but rauparaha dismissed the warning by an impatient gesture and a petulant remark that nothing was to be feared from that quarter. hakitara had, however, been greedily listening to all that had passed, and when the council broke up he was in possession of every detail of the tactics by which the _pa_ was to be assaulted on the morrow. as might be surmised, sleep came but fitfully to the faithful hakitara that night, and just as the first silver ray of dawn was breaking in the east, he rose, and, wrapping himself in a large dog-skin mat, crept out of the hut into the grey morning, determined to warn his friends in the _pa_, if fortune did not desert him. the maori system of warfare, though quaint in many respects, was practical enough to include the posting of sentries round the camps; and, even if they were not invariably vigilant, there was always the risk that one might happen to be watchful at an awkward moment. this fear haunted hakitara as, with beating heart, he wormed his way between the huts and through the tufts of waving tussock grass. tradition records that he was successful in eluding a direct challenge; and when he was well beyond the circuit of the sentries, he rose to his feet and ran with all his speed to the nearest gate of the _pa_. the gate was instantly opened to him, and in a hurried whisper he bade the keeper summon the chiefs to a conference in a neighbouring house. when the warriors were assembled, he disclosed to them in hot, hurried words all that he knew of ngati-toa's intentions, which, in remembrance of a treaty negotiated only the previous day, could be regarded in no other light than as a shameless breach of faith. the council decided that they would not wait for the blow to fall upon them from outside, but would forestall the northerners in their own methods. they knew that some of the ngati-toa chiefs would, in keeping with the custom of the past few days, visit them again for the purpose of trade; and they were hopeful that, by a special effort, they might be able to induce the great te rauparaha himself to come within the gates. it was agreed that the chiefs, once within the walls, should be attacked and killed, and that then a sortie should be made upon the unsuspecting camp outside. scarcely had this decision been arrived at, when te pehi and several of his fellow-chiefs entered the _pa_ and began to mix with the populace, who were now busy preparing for the business of the day, and were in total ignorance of the decision of their leaders or the circumstances which had dictated it. there was thus no change in the demeanour of the people to excite uneasiness in the minds of te pehi and his friends. they, on the other hand, knowing that their plans were nearing fruition, and believing that the _pa_ was virtually in the hollow of their hands, adopted a more insolent air, and were at no pains to conceal the contempt with which they regarded the rights of ngai-tahu property. thus, te pehi boldly entered one of the houses, and seizing a large block of greenstone, attached to it a rope of flax, and proceeded to drag it towards the hiaka-rere gate, evidently intending to carry it into the northern camp. the _pa_ was now alive with men and women, for the day was well on, and the audacious cupidity of te pehi aroused both astonishment and anger. as he strode towards the gate, he had to pass a group of excited onlookers sitting in the _marae_, or open space which served the purpose of a sports ground. one of these, moimoi, rose and challenged te pehi's right to purloin his greenstone in that unceremonious fashion. with scorn unspeakable, te pehi turned upon his interrogator, and in tones of bitter contempt inquired by what right he, a menial, dared to call in question the actions of a chief. "you of the crooked tattoo, what use would your ugly head be to me if i were to carry it back with me to kapiti? it would be worth nothing towards the purchase of a musket. but," said he, turning to a stalwart native standing near by, "here is a man whose head would be worth the taking, but you with the worthless head, how dare you cavil at the actions of the great te pehi?" the slighting reference to the inartistic facial decoration of moimoi was intended to be particularly insulting, for every native was wont to pride himself upon the completeness of his _moko_, and te pehi had good reason to regard himself as something of an authority upon this branch of maori art, for his own tattoo was more than usually elaborate. but the most alarming portion of his taunt was his thinly-veiled reference to the sale of moimoi's head. every one knew that at this period a considerable traffic had sprung up in native heads,[ ] which were preserved by a crude process and traded away to europeans in exchange for muskets. te pehi's reference to the matter could, then, only be taken as an indication that during his visits to the _pa_ he had lent his eye to business, and, in this connection, business meant the assault and sacking of the fortress. the full force of this indiscreet admission had flashed upon the astonished listeners; but, before they could reply, their attention was diverted from the arrogance of te pehi by another incident which had occurred at the hiaka-rere gate. pokaitara, one of te rauparaha's most intrepid lieutenants, had approached this entrance, and was seeking admission to the _pa_, which was being denied him. observing who the visitor was, rongotara, the superior resident chief of kaiapoi, ordered the keeper of the gate to admit him, exclaiming as he did so, "welcome my younger brother's lord," a reference to the fact that rongotara's brother had been made a prisoner at omihi by pokaitara, and was at that moment in his keeping. the gate was immediately thrown open; but the ngati-toa had no sooner bent his head beneath the portal than rongotara dealt him a crushing blow with his _miti_, or stone club, which he was carrying in his hand, and the lifeless body fell with a heavy thud to the ground. it was this opening episode in the ngai-tahu policy of checkmate which had suddenly diverted attention from te pehi. but the incident had been as visible to him as to those around him, and the moment he saw it, the critical nature of his own position dawned upon him, and, taking no further thought of the greenstone, he sprang with the agility of a tiger towards the south-western angle of the palisading, and commenced to scramble up the wall by clutching the vines which bound the upright posts together. his plunge for safety would probably have proved successful--for several shots which were fired at him flew wide of the mark--had not tangatahara, a ngai-tahu warrior of great strength and personal courage, closed with him, and, pulling him to the ground, despatched him with a blow from his tomahawk.[ ] the other northern chiefs who were in the _pa_ were apprised of the mêlée which was proceeding by the sound of the fire-arms discharged against te pehi, and were not slow to grasp the situation. realising that they had been trapped, they knew that it would be of little use attempting to escape by the regular gateways, which were all securely guarded; and, with one exception, those who were free to do so flew to the walls, hoping to scale them, and so get safely to their camp. but they were for the most part either overpowered by numbers and tomahawked on the spot, or were shot while scrambling up the _aka_ vines. the exception referred to was te aratangata, who happened to be at the northern end of the _pa_, and was at this juncture bargaining to secure a famous greenstone _mere_ called by the ngai-tahu people "te rau-hikihiki." the moment he saw what was happening, he dashed toward the gate huirapa, hoping to force his way past the guard, who, he supposed, could offer but feeble resistance to his own exceptional strength, courage, and skill. there is every reason to believe that rongotara rather precipitated matters by killing pokaitara at the gate, as it had been decided that an attempt should first be made to induce the great te rauparaha himself to enter the _pa_, in the hope of including him in the holocaust. still, the plans of the kaiapoi chiefs were sufficiently mature to meet the emergency when it suddenly arose; and so te aratangata discovered to his alarm that, although he was at the further end of the _pa_ from that at which te pehi had been attacked, he was just as closely surrounded by enemies. when he started for the gate, he had virtually to fight every inch of the way. he had little difficulty in disposing of the first few who intercepted his path; but, as he drew nearer to the gate, his assailants increased, and before he had struggled on many yards he was attacked by over twenty persons armed with all manner of weapons. against those who ventured at close quarters he valiantly defended himself with his _mere_, all the time pressing on towards the gate. a gun-shot wound temporarily checked his onward course, and he was soon further handicapped by several spear-thrusts, which left the spears dangling in the fleshy parts of his body, and from which he found it impossible to disengage himself, pressed as he was on every side. these difficulties perceptibly weakened his defence, but he was still able to fight on, keeping his opponents at bay by swift and desperate blows with his _mere_, which, up to this moment, had accounted for all who had ventured within his reach. the brave ngati-toa had now reached within a few paces of the gate, and may have even yet had dreams of escape, when the crowning disaster came in the breaking of his _mere_. a shot, which had been intended for his body, struck the greenstone blade, and shattered the faithful weapon into a hundred fragments, leaving only the butt in aratangata's hand. now utterly defenceless, weakened by his wounds, and hampered by the dragging spears, the undaunted chief turned upon his assailants, and, with his last strength, grappled with those who came within his reach. the unequal struggle could not, however, be long maintained. emboldened by his helpless condition, his pursuers pressed in upon him with angry tumult, and he was borne to the ground by te koreke, who finished the deadly work with a succession of blows with his tomahawk upon the prostrate warrior's head and neck. so fell te aratangata, and so fell the flower of the ngati-toa tribe that day. in all, eight great chiefs[ ] were killed, who, by their heroism on the field and their sagacity in council, had materially aided te rauparaha in all his great achievements. they had added brilliancy to his battles, lustre to his victories, and had lent a wisdom to his administration, whereby the fruits of his enterprise had not been wasted by internecine strife. so dire a tragedy as the death of the princes of his tribe was a great blow to te rauparaha. but it is doubtful whether the sacrifice of so much mental and physical fibre was more keenly felt by the ngati-toa chief than the loss of prestige and damage to his reputation, which he might reasonably apprehend from his being outwitted at his own game, and that, too, by a people whom he had hitherto despised as opponents. that they would turn upon him in what he chose to regard as an unprovoked attack was something which was not reckoned upon in his philosophy, for he had trusted to his blandishments to soothe away their suspicions, or to his great name and reputation to awe them into submission. and when the blow fell, and he saw his patiently laid plans tumbling about his ears, he received the result with mingled feelings of surprise, indignation, and something akin to dismay. in this frame of mind he deemed it expedient to anticipate any further unexpected eventualities by withdrawing his force and making good his retreat with as little delay as possible. consequently his camp was at once broken up, and the little army made its dejected way across the plain to double corner, where the canoes had been left, and next day te rauparaha set sail for omihi and kapiti, having, as the result of his first raid upon kaiapoi,[ ] added neither greenstone to his treasure nor glory to his reputation as a warrior. for the better part of two years te rauparaha nursed his wrath against ngai-tahu, and spent the intervening time in devising schemes whereby he might secure a vengeance commensurate with the disgrace of his repulse and the death of his well-loved friends. one thing on which he had fully determined was that ngai-tahu should pay for their temerity with the purest of their blood, for he would take no plebeian in payment for so royal a soul as te pehi. his schemes were therefore directed against the life of tamaiharanui,[ ] who has already been described as the embodiment of spiritual and temporal power in the southern tribe. he was the hereditary representative of all that stood for nobility amongst the sons of tahu. his person was regarded as so sacred that the common people scarcely dared to look upon his face. he could only be addressed by his fellow-chiefs with the greatest deference and in the most reverential language; and if, while passing through the congested streets of a village, his shadow should fall upon a _whata_ or a _rua_, the storehouse and its contents would be immediately destroyed, to prevent the sacrilege of a tribesman consuming food upon which even the shade of so sacred a personage had lighted. indeed, so sanctified and ceremonious an individual was he, that his presence was sometimes oppressive to those who were not accustomed to live in an atmosphere of ritual; for the slightest disregard of what was due to one so endowed with the spirit of the gods might involve them at any moment in the loss of possessions, and even of life. [illustration: gillet's whaling station, kapiti, . from a sketch by gilfillan, by kind permission of miss gilfillan.] to secure so eminent a scion of ngai-tahu aristocracy would be a trophy indeed; but te rauparaha knew that it was no ordinary task that he was contemplating. an attack upon regular lines might easily defeat its own purpose, for a chief so sacred to the tribe as tamaiharanui would scarcely be permitted to sacrifice himself upon the field of battle, even if his own inclinations impelled him to lead his people, a point of personal courage by no means too well established.[ ] strategy must therefore be employed, and it must be strategy of the most delicate kind, for, in the naïve language of the younger te rauparaha, "the chief must be enticed, even as the _kaka_ is enticed." for the scheme which was finally adopted it has been claimed that te rauparaha was not originally responsible, but that the idea was first conceived by a relative of his, named hohepa tama-i-hengia, who had been working on board a whaler in the southern latitudes, and heard the story of te pehi's death on the ship calling in at a bay on the coast of otago. hohepa, who, in his contact with the european, had lost none of that eternal thirst for revenge which marked the ancient maori, at once besought the captain to employ his vessel in the capture of tamaiharanui, promising a large reward from te rauparaha on his handing over the prisoner at kapiti. the captain, however, was discouraged in the idea by the rest of the ship's company, who were eager to reach queen charlotte sound, there to resume their whaling operations; and thus the execution of the brilliant suggestion had perforce to be suspended until the ingenious author of it himself reached kapiti. there the daring plan was laid before the fighting chiefs of the tribe, who were readily convinced of its practicability. their first overtures were made to captain briggs, whose ship, the _dragon_, was then lying at kapiti. this seaman has, with a frankness amounting to brutality, explained that he ultimately declined their proposals, not because the enterprise was repugnant to him, but because te rauparaha insisted upon taking more men with him than he deemed it prudent to carry in his ship. the manner in which the captain of the _dragon_ was approached was diplomatic in the extreme. the chiefs explained to him that te pehi had been to england, and that, as a mark of gratitude for his generous treatment there, he had always been the friend of the english. tamaiharanui, on the other hand, had killed more white men than any other chief in new zealand, from which fact they adroitly argued that they and captain briggs had a mutual interest in compassing his death. briggs seems to have been convinced that tamaiharanui was a "monster," whose death would be a distinct benefit to society, and he unhesitatingly offered to take te rauparaha and two of his best men to akaroa to effect the capture. te rauparaha and te hiko, however, stipulated for twenty men; but, as the cautious briggs considered that "this would have given the chiefs more power in the vessel than he cared to part with," he declined further discussion. this rebuff delayed, but did not extinguish, the purpose of the chiefs. they still hoped that other captains would be more amenable to persuasion or more susceptible to reward. there was thus considerable excitement at kapiti on a certain day towards the close of the year , when a vessel was seen rounding the taheke point, and the cry of "a ship, a ship!" was raised from every corner of the settlement. rauparaha immediately ordered out his canoe, and, putting off with te hiko and a full crew, boarded the stranger, which proved to be the british brig _elizabeth_ of tons, commanded by captain stewart.[ ] the chiefs were fortunate in the type of man with whom they had come to negotiate. stewart was one of the semi-buccaneer breed, who, at this period, were all too common in these waters, and whose depredations have contributed so many of the ugly pages of our country's history. nor was this case to be an exception. before committing himself, however, stewart took the precaution of consulting captain briggs, who advised him not to undertake to carry more natives on board than he could safely control. but this counsel[ ] was not followed, and a bargain was eventually struck, whereby it was agreed that the captain was to carry the chiefs and their party to whanga-roa (now akaroa) harbour in banks's peninsula, in consideration for which he was to receive fifty tons of dressed flax--valued roughly at £ , --immediately upon his return to kapiti. the conclusion of this contract gave intense satisfaction to the chiefs, and according to his son, "the heart of te rauparaha lived in joy." some of the apologists for captain stewart have endeavoured to show that he was not made fully aware of the real intentions of the chiefs, and that, when the savage purpose of the voyage was borne in upon him, he was then powerless to avert the tragic scenes which were afterwards enacted. it has been further urged in extenuation of his crime that, when he arrived on the coast of new zealand, he discovered to his dismay that his cargo was totally unsuitable to excite trade with the natives, and that he was, therefore, constrained, in the interests of his employers, to accept a charter against which there was no law, and which promised a rich and speedy remuneration. what measure of truth there may be in the former defence it is now difficult to determine. it is possible that events developed in a manner and to an extent that had not been contemplated by stewart; but it must be remembered that he had discussed with due deliberation the whole project with his friend captain briggs, and that, if he afterwards found himself powerless to control the passions of his charterers, the blame was entirely his own for disdaining the advice of his fellow captain regarding a limitation of numbers. as to the unmarketable nature of his cargo, that specious plea is flatly disproved by the ship's manifest. so far from the goods carried being unsuitable for trade, there was scarcely anything brought in the _elizabeth_ for which the natives were not eagerly craving. indeed, there is no room to doubt that, had captain stewart chosen to confine himself to legitimate commerce, he could have easily bartered his guns and his powder, his flints and his tobacco, for a cargo which would have given his employers an adequate return, without requiring his zeal in their behalf to outrage the feelings of humanity. similarly, it is scarcely to be supposed that stewart's knowledge of the law was so wide that he was aware there was no statutory decree prohibiting his entering into this unholy compact. he was clearly just as indifferent to its moral aspect as he was unaware of its legal bearing. otherwise he would have known that, viewed from this standpoint, there was no distinction between a crime committed against a savage and that perpetrated upon a civilised being. the absence of any law regulating the conduct of individuals placed in such circumstances is no palliation for the outrage which he committed; and, so far from his being unwittingly led into an error of judgment, his treatment of tamaiharanui after his capture dispels any supposition that he had repented of his bargain, or that he was in the least degree revolted by the excesses of the natives. having regard to these facts, the impression conveyed by a study of the general character of the man, as revealed by his actions, is, that the purpose of the voyage would not have caused him much scruple, so long as the reward was ample and easily obtained. howbeit, a few days after the bargain was struck, he received on board his vessel te rauparaha and one hundred and seventy of his followers, accompanied by five of his remaining lieutenants--te rangihaeata, te hiko, tungia, and tama-i-hengia, and on october th set sail for banks's peninsula. the voyage appears to have been propitious enough, for, in due course, the vessel arrived at whanga-roa harbour, on the shores of which then stood the takapuneke _pa_, and now nestles the sequestered town of akaroa.[ ] the coming of a ship was an event much more rare at akaroa than it was at kapiti, and, consequently, the natives of the _pa_ were stirred to the highest pitch of excitement, and desired to enter into immediate trade with the vessel, which they misjudged to be an honest whaler.[ ] meanwhile te rauparaha had carefully concealed all his men beneath the hatches, and enjoined upon them the strictest seclusion; for the success of his scheme altogether depended upon the concealment of the fact that a force of natives was on board. acting under instructions from the chief, captain stewart, through his interpreter, forbade any of the resident natives to board the _elizabeth_ until tamaiharanui had returned; for it so happened that, at the time of the brig's arrival at akaroa, that chief was absent from his _pa_, superintending the preparation of a cargo of flax which he had sold to an english captain. a message was accordingly despatched to wairewa, urging him to come and see a _pakeha_ who was eager to trade. it was not, however, till the eighth day that tama arrived, and, during all that time, the ngati-toa warriors had been cooped up under the hatches, being permitted only a few minutes on deck under the cover of darkness. these precautions prevented any suspicion reaching the shore; and yet some doubt seems to have lurked in the minds of the resident people, for they eagerly inquired of cowell, the interpreter, whether there were any natives on board, and were put off with the laughing assurance that such was impossible, as the vessel had just come down from sydney. this statement was seemingly fair enough; but, if sydney was the last port of call, how came those _hutiwai_ burrs clinging to the clothes of some of the crew, which a keen-eyed native had just espied? _hutiwai_ burrs do not grow in sydney, nor upon the broad ocean. then the lie that came handiest was that on the way down they had called at the bay of islands, and the sailors had probably picked up the burrs while carousing on shore. the evasion, however palpable, was at least successful in silencing the doubts which were just growing to dangerous proportions in the minds of tamaiharanui's people, and the incident had no influence in cooling their ardour for trade, for further messengers were shortly afterwards despatched to hasten their chief's coming. when tamaiharanui came, he brought with him his wife, te whe, his sister, and his little daughter ngaroimata,[ ] a name full of pathetic suggestion. he was cordially welcomed by the captain, who invited him to his cabin below with every show of courtesy and hospitality. but no sooner was the chief seated than the door opened, and, to his intense amazement, his mortal enemies, te rauparaha and te hiko, stood before him. to overpower and bind him was the work of but a few moments, and then the ngati-toa let loose upon him the full flood of their invective, taunting him in bitter scorn with his infantile simplicity in falling so easily into their trap. te hiko added insult to injury by advancing and drawing back the captive's upper lip, sneeringly remarking, "so these are the teeth which ate my father." in all innocence of what was passing within the cabin, the followers of tamaiharanui swarmed round the ship's side in their canoes, clamouring for admission, so that they might trade for the needful guns and casks of powder. this permission was granted to a few at a time, who, immediately they reached the deck, were conducted by the crew to the open hatchway and promptly shoved headlong into the hold, where they were secured by te rauparaha's men and made prisoners as easily and as simply as their chief had been. the failure of these people to return to the shore evidently did not excite any uneasiness. it was no uncommon thing for natives visiting a ship in the offing to remain for several days, or even longer, if their presence could be tolerated. events were thus playing into the hands of te rauparaha more effectually even than he might have reasonably expected; and so, on the evening of the second day after the capture of tamaiharanui, having secured all the visitors to the ship, he was now in a position to deal with those who had remained on land. boats were accordingly got out some hours after nightfall, and a strong and well-armed party was sent ashore to attack the takapuneke _pa_. ngai-tahu accounts of this fight would have us believe that an heroic resistance was offered to a cyclonic assault; but the circumstances render such an account most improbable. the place was not a fighting _pa_, and for the purposes of war was practically defenceless. the people, too, were awakened from their sleep by the tumult of the attack, and, shorn as they were of their leaders and their warriors, there was little hope of any organised defence being made. the attack therefore became a rout, and the rout a massacre; and before morning broke the people of akaroa were either helpless captives, bound in the evil-smelling hold of a ship, fugitives flying for dear life, or lying dead amongst the smoking ruins of their ancestral home. having achieved a complete success, te rauparaha collected a quantity of human flesh for consumption on the voyage, and set sail for kapiti, where the final scene in the tragedy was to be enacted. tamaiharanui and his family were housed in one of the fore cabins, and apparently some degree of liberty was permitted him, for on the first night out from akaroa,[ ] he, after consultation with his wife, seized a favourable opportunity to strangle his little daughter as she lay asleep, and afterwards cast the lifeless body into the sea. this extreme course he justified to his conscience as averting the eternal disgrace of her ever becoming the wife of one of his enemies. his unnatural action, however, had the effect of rousing the fury of his captors.[ ] fearing that his next step would be to take his own life, and so deprive them of the legitimate fruits of their mission, they took immediate and adequate precautions by pinioning him fast in a position which caused him exquisite torture, and his sufferings they watched with intense delight. on the voyage northward high revels were kept by the natives, who, if the interpreter's testimony is to be credited, were even permitted to cook the flesh of their victims in the ship's coppers, without protest from the captain or any of his equally degenerate crew. upon the arrival of the _elizabeth_ at kapiti, on the th of november, the _pas_ were almost deserted, the majority of the people being absent in the swamps and on the hill-sides, preparing the flax which was to be captain stewart's payment. the news, however, soon spread that the great ngai-tahu chief was a captive on board, and crowds came flocking from the mainland to verify the reported triumph of their leader. the major part of the prisoners were landed on the th of november, and the natives now expected that tamaiharanui would also be handed over to them at once, to be disposed of in their own fashion. but on this point captain stewart was obdurate, for he probably saw but little prospect of securing his flax if once the prisoner passed beyond his keeping. he therefore resisted the tribe's demands for this species of _habeas corpus_, and detained the chief, heaping upon him the additional pain and ignominy of keeping him in irons until he could be redeemed by the fulfilment of te rauparaha's promise. either this was no simple matter, or, more likely still, his followers, having to some extent satisfied their craving for excitement and revenge, relaxed their efforts in the fields, preferring to discuss in the _kaingas_ the strange adventures of their comrades at akaroa. from whatever cause, there was a distinct failure on their part to complete the contract. day after day went past, and still a residue of the flax was wanting. at the end of six weeks, captain stewart was persuaded that it was hopeless to wait longer, and, probably wishing himself well out of the whole business, he handed tamaiharanui over to te rauparaha, and made his course with all speed to sydney, arriving on january , .[ ] the prisoner was taken on shore in rauparaha's canoe, and, at a great feast held in honour of the occasion, was surrendered to the wives of te pehi to do with him as they pleased. a final appeal for life was made to his captor by tama; but te rauparaha took high ground, and replied that if it was a matter that rested with himself, he would most certainly spare him, but the death of te pehi was a calamity which affected the whole tribe of ngati-toa, and hence the final decision must rest with them. about the precise time and mode[ ] of the unfortunate chief's death there is much doubt, for scarcely any two accounts agree, except in the central fact that tamaiharanui subsequently met his fate at the hands of tiaia, te pehi's principal widow. the most favourable view of this lady's conduct in revenging the death of her lamented husband is given us by her own tribe, who have averred that "on landing, the chief was given up to the widow of te pehi, who took him and his wife to her own house, giving up half to their use. they talked like friends to each other, and the widow behaved so kindly to him, that a stranger would have taken them for man and wife, rather than a doomed captive and his implacable enemy. she used even to clothe him in her finest garments and deck his head with choice feathers. this continued for about two weeks, until she had assembled her friends, or thought her victim sufficiently fat to kill.[ ] she then suddenly caused him to be seized and bound, with his arms stretched to a tree, and whilst he was in this position she took a long iron spear, with which she stabbed him in the jugular artery, and drank his warm blood as it gushed forth." harrowing as this spectacle must have been, and awful as it is to contemplate, it must be remembered that the manner of tamaiharanui's death was not more savage than that of many another leader of men, perpetrated in christian countries and in the name of a higher cause. by the maori code the death of the akaroa chief was not only justified, but necessary to appease the spirit of the departed te pehi, and the more humiliating his death, the more adequate the compensation to the dead. a student[ ] of maori life and character, than whom perhaps none have had better opportunities of mastering ngai-tahu history, and who, from his calling, could scarcely be accused of callousness towards tamaiharanui's sufferings, has given it as his mature opinion that, "base as the means adopted for his capture were, and cruel as his fate was, it is impossible to feel much pity for tamaiharanui. his punishment was hardly more than he deserved. the treatment he received at the hands of ngati-toa was little more than a repetition of the cruelties which he had himself inflicted upon members of his own tribe." possibly the knowledge that he would not have acted differently himself assisted the unhappy captive to resign himself to his fate. for, although he has been described as both cruel and cowardly, by one whose verdict it is not easy to challenge, this much must be laid to his credit: that neither the mental nor the physical torture invented for him by his barbarous enemies was sufficient to break down his rugged fortitude or to tame his defiant spirit. when the _elizabeth_ reached sydney, the circumstances attending the death of the akaroa chief were reported to governor darling by mr. gordon browne, and the governor, with commendable promptitude, ordered the arrest of stewart and proceeded to put him on his trial. the depositions were referred to the crown solicitor on february , but that official expressed doubts as to the statutory power of the colony to bring the offender to justice, it not being clear whether offences committed in new zealand against new zealanders were punishable under the laws of new south wales.[ ] darling was in no way disconcerted by this legal difficulty, but urged with some vehemence that the point should be tested, holding that it was "a case in which the character of the nation was implicated, and that every possible exertion should be used to bring the offenders to justice." stewart retained dr. wardell, a lawyer eminent in his day, for his defence, and while the officers of the crown were seeking to make good their ground, the delay was utilised to spirit away the witnesses whose testimony might be fatal to stewart. meanwhile, the _elizabeth_ was allowed to put to sea under another captain, and stewart was held on bail, notwithstanding the strenuous protests of his counsel. with the witnesses out of the way, dr. wardell became more confident, and boldly demanded the release of his client. but the governor could not but be influenced by the prayer of the more honourably disposed white residents of new zealand, who expressed the fear that their "lives would be made answerable for the proceedings of their countrymen," or by the touching appeal of the natives, who came personally to plead that speedy steps might be taken by england to put a curb upon the unbridled behaviour of her degenerate sons. the curb which darling proposed to apply was to appoint a resident representative of the colony in new zealand, and he suggested to the secretary of state for the colonies that captain sturt[ ] should be employed in this capacity. the carrying out of this scheme was delayed by the recall of the governor, and the appointment of sir richard bourke as his successor, to whom darling deemed it prudent to leave the initiation of a system which it would be his lot to administer. all this time justice was tardily picking her way amongst the complicated meshes of the law, and it was not until the st of may that stewart was called upon to face his trial. even then the crown solicitor was not prepared to proceed upon the main indictment, but sought to get a conviction upon a minor offence, to which course dr. wardell took the strongest exception, and warmly demanded the discharge of stewart's recognisances. the crown justified its action on the ground that its witnesses were not forthcoming, for great remissness had been shown in letting them depart; and, notwithstanding dr. wardell's protest that it was unfair "to hold stewart to bail in a sum of £ , for an indefinite period," the chief justice decided to adjourn the matter, and allow it to come up for consideration on a future day. when that day arrived, the crown solicitor was still unready, and applied for leave to abandon the charge of misdemeanour, and proceed upon the main information so soon as his witnesses were available. but his witnesses were the same intangible quantity that they had been ever since they had first vanished, and there was not the remotest prospect of their appearing. dr. wardell knew this, and bantered his learned friend upon his unfortunate predicament, in which he was compelled to "skip from a charge of murder to a misdemeanour, and then to murder back again." he earnestly pleaded the hardship imposed upon stewart by these delays, for which he was in no way responsible, and claimed either instant dismissal or immediate trial for his client, who, he believed, or affected to believe, was the unhappy victim of circumstances.[ ] to all this the crown might have justly retorted that the disability placed upon stewart was gentleness itself compared with his own conduct towards his fettered captive. possibly this view was influencing the court, for it still refused to take the responsibility at that stage of discharging the prisoner, but appointed the th june as the day on which dr. wardell might make application for the discharge of stewart's recognisances. but when, after further adjournments, that application was argued on june th, the crown was unable to convince the court that the accused man should be indefinitely detained, and the bench, reluctantly, no doubt, announced that he must be "discharged on his own recognisances in the sum of £ , ." so ended governor darling's sincere endeavour to make national reparation for one of the blackest crimes which have ever dishonoured the relations of the white man with the maori, a deed which must be counted dark even at a time when the spirit of humanity seemed to slumber. whatever palliation the apologist may find for the rough sea captain, whose occupation and environment were not conducive to the gentler qualities, it is not to the credit of a civilised community that its public opinion was apathetic in the presence of such an atrocity as that in which captain stewart had steeped his hands. it is to be feared that the governor failed to receive the support from his officers, or from the community, which a jealousy for the national honour might have demanded;[ ] while it is equally true that active sympathy with stewart was largely responsible for the ease with which the witnesses were got out of the way. it was, perhaps, due to the fact that he was never brought to trial, rather than to any other cause, that no jury of sydneyites acquitted stewart. the tidings of te rauparaha's successes in the south were rapidly filtering to the ears of his friends in the north, by the agency of the devoted messengers who were repeatedly travelling backwards to their old home. with each fresh tale of victory told by ardent tongues to wondering ears, some new hope or ambition was awakened in the breast of the ngati-raukawa who still lingered in their settlements round lake taupo. apart from the larger migrations which from time to time came down to join te rauparaha, less important bands were continually being attracted by the glory of ngati-toa's splendid achievements. many of these soldiers of fortune reached otaki and kapiti with little adventure; for there was no inclination on the part of the subdued remnant of the ngati-apa to risk a conflict with these fiery spirits as they pushed across the ferny hills of rangitikei. but one small company, travelling further to the northward than was customary, came into conflict with, and met disaster at the hands of, the whanganui people, who secured the momentary advantage of a victory. from out of this defeat, two young men, te puke and his brother, te ao, succeeded in making their way to kapiti, where the story of their misfortune made a deep impression upon chiefs and people alike. but matters more urgent and nearer home were pressing in upon the chief, and because of lack of opportunity, rather than of desire, the day of reckoning with whanganui must be indefinitely postponed. the business which thus preoccupied the mind of te rauparaha was the need of adjusting the differences and unravelling the complications, which were daily accumulating, as the result of accretions to his forces. with the arrival of every new contingent of warriors, provision had to be made for their immediate entertainment, and for their ultimate settlement on the land, in order to leave them comfortable and contented. this their mutual jealousies made somewhat difficult, and no small measure of diplomacy was needed to avert civil ruptures, such as afterwards threatened to destroy all that unity and unquestioning devotion to his authority had accomplished. though there was this simmering of discontent between the men of ngati-raukawa and ngati-awa, fortunately for te rauparaha no crisis occurred, and any ill-feeling that might lead to such an event was soon forgotten in the thrilling announcement that another attempt was about to be made to capture the great _pa_ at kaiapoi. this decision was, we are led to understand, arrived at somewhat hurriedly, and was largely accelerated because of a vision seen by a hoary seer of the tribe, who had interpreted the manifestation as a mandate to go forward to the attack. his _mata_, or prophecy, has been preserved amongst the oral treasures of ngati-toa, and has been freely translated as follows:-- "what is the wind? it is north-east, it is south. it is east in the offing, oh! come then, o raha! that you may see the fire on the crimson flat of kaiapohia. by the prow of the canoe, by the handle of the paddle, the hold of the canoe of maui may be overturned to cover it. then pound, pound the sea! and stir it with your paddles. behold my flock of curlews hovering over the backwater of that waipara there. the fight will be on the other side; embrace it, get closer and closer. fierce will rage the fight." it might be supposed that, with the capture and death of 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 was sufficiently advanced,[ ] 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[ ] 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.[ ] 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,[ ] 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_.[ ] 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[ ] 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.[ ] 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.[ ] 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[ ] 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_.[ ] 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,[ ] 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[ ] 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.[ ] 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,[ ] 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[ ] 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.[ ] 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.[ ] [ ] 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. [ ] a shark's tooth fixed upon a stick and used as a knife. [ ] 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. [ ] 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. [ ] "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_). [ ] 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. [ ] 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." [ ] some difficulty has been experienced in closely tracing the movements of te pehi. he left england on board h.m.s. _thames_ in october, , and the _thames_ reached sydney on april , . 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 , at the juncture referred to in the text. [ ] 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." [ ] 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 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 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. [ ] 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. [ ] 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. [ ] 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? [ ] 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_. [ ] in an account of this incident given by a captain briggs to the newspaper _tasmanian_, in , 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. [ ] 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. [ ] the rev. canon stack considers that this event occurred either late in or early in . [ ] 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. [ ] 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_). [ ] the _elizabeth_ arrived in sydney in july, , 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. [ ] a more or less exaggerated account of this raid appeared in the newspaper _tasmanian_ on january , , 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." [ ] properly spelt akau-roa--"the long coast line"; doubtless referring to the deep inlet which forms the harbour of akaroa. [ ] according to a parliamentary paper published in , 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. [ ] signifying "tear-drops." [ ] some accounts say that this occurred before the vessel left the harbour. [ ] 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. [ ] 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. [ ] 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 , 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. [ ] 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. [ ] rev. canon stack. [ ] 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 ( geo. iv., cap. ) gave express power to deal with such offences as that of stewart. an amendment of the law in the following year (june , ) made the position more explicit. [ ] 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. [ ] 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." [ ] 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 . [ ] the expedition probably started about the end of january or beginning of february. [ ] now lyttelton harbour. [ ] his _pa_ was in the vicinity of what is now the city of dunedin. [ ] 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. [ ] a storehouse erected upon a high central pole, to protect the food from the depredations of rats. [ ] so far as is known, this was the first occasion on which the principle of the sap was applied in maori warfare. [ ] 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." [ ] 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. [ ] popularly known as "maori-heads" or "nigger-heads." flax and _raupo_ also grew freely in the swamps. [ ] 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. [ ] 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. [ ] 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_). [ ] 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. [ ] "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_). [ ] "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_). [ ] "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_). [ ] "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_). chapter vi the smoking flax the conquest of the southern districts being now completed, and the winter months approaching, the whole of the northern fleet took its departure for cloudy bay, where, according to the records of the whalers who were there at the time, scenes of the wildest excitement prevailed for many days, and the unhappy condition of the captives was observed with much compassion by persons who were powerless to intervene. from cloudy bay the main body of the conquerors passed over to kapiti, and there the scenes of unbridled ferocity were resumed, until sufficient slaves had been killed and eaten to fittingly honour the returning warriors. these rejoicings at an end, te rauparaha set himself to seriously administer the affairs of his own people, which were always in danger of violent disturbance, due to the mutual jealousies of the tribes when not preoccupied by the excitement of war. this work of domestic management almost wholly absorbed his attention during the next few years; and it was fortunate for the kaiapoi captives that he had so much on hand, as the pressure of circumstances and the stress of inter-tribal complications more than once compelled him to treat them with greater consideration than might otherwise have been their lot. while these events were proceeding in the north island, the maoris in the south were slowly reorganising their forces. the majority of the fugitives from kaiapoi and onawe had travelled southward until they reached taiaroa's settlement at otago, where, under his guidance, they began to formulate their plans for avenging their many humiliations. amongst these fugitives was tu-te-hounuku, the son of the treacherously captured tamaiharanui, who, recognising that his own people were not equal to the task of accomplishing vengeance, sought the aid of the great otago warrior, and chief of ruapuke, tu-hawaiki. this chief had received from the whalers the startling appellation of "bloody jack,"[ ] not so much because of his sanguinary disposition as from the lurid nature of his language. he was a warrior of the progressive type, who at once saw the advantage of intimate intercourse with the white man; and to this end he made common cause with all the whalers stationed along the coast. he assisted them in their quarrels, and they in return supplied him with the implements of war necessary to overcome his tribal enemies. in this way he managed to acquire the mastery over a large area of country, and to amass a considerable amount of wealth. he owned a small vessel, which was commanded by one of his whaler friends, in which he frequently made trips to sydney. there he formed an acquaintance with governor gipps, who presented him with a number of old military uniforms; and on his return to new zealand he enrolled a squad of his own tribe, clothed them in the soldiers' garb, drilled them, and on state occasions paraded them as his personal bodyguard, "all the same the _kawana_."[ ] to this enterprising barbarian the prospect of a brush with rauparaha--or with any one else for that matter--was a most agreeable one, and so the alliance with tu-te-hounuku was entered upon after the most trifling negotiation. although taiaroa appears to have taken some part in organising the expedition, he did not accompany it. the leadership was therefore entrusted to tu-hawaiki, who came and secreted himself in the vicinity of cape campbell, being thus favourably situated for an attack upon the ngati-toa, who now had entire control of the northern portion of the middle island, where a section of their people were continuously settled. moreover, it had become one of their practices to visit lake grasmere for the purpose of snaring the paradise duck, which then, as now, made this sheet of water one of their favourite breeding grounds; and it was while upon one of these bird-catching expeditions that te rauparaha nearly lost his life. being intent upon the manipulation of his snares, he was unconscious of the approach from behind the cape of tu-hawaiki and his horde, until, with a savage yell, they pounced upon the unwary ngati-toa. for the latter the situation was indeed critical, and all its difficulties were taken in by rauparaha at a glance. he saw that in point of numbers the odds were terribly against him, and that to stand his ground and fight it out with such a formidable foe could only result in certain death. on the other hand, the chances of escape had been almost completely cut off; for when the party landed at the lake, the canoes, with one exception, were drawn up on the beach, and were now high and dry. the delay in launching these meant the difference between life and death, so closely were they pressed. but fortunately for him, one still remained in the water some distance from the shore; and on observing this solitary gleam of hope, te rauparaha swiftly made up his mind that discretion was the better part of valour. he raced for the sea, and, plunging into the surf, swam to the canoe with rapid and powerful strokes, followed by at least forty of his own people. at the canoe a general scramble ensued, in which only the fittest survived, the remainder being left struggling in the water to escape as best they could, or be despatched by their enemies as opportunity offered. in the meantime, those of the ngati-toa who had not been able to plunge into the sea were unceremoniously killed on the spot, and those of the attacking party who were not actively engaged in this sanguinary work at once launched the canoes lying on the boulder bank, which divides the lake from the sea, and set off in hot pursuit of the retreating rauparaha. as might be expected, the chase was a desperate one, each party straining every nerve to defeat the object of the other. rauparaha, standing in the stern of his canoe, by word and gesture urged the men at the paddles to renewed exertions; not that they required much exhortation, for they knew that their lives depended entirely upon themselves. but, notwithstanding their utmost endeavours, it soon became painfully evident that their pursuers were gaining upon them, owing to the overloaded condition of the canoe. rauparaha then determined upon a course which can scarcely recommend him to our admiration, although nature's first law, self-preservation, might be urged in extenuation of his crime. without further ceremony he ordered half the people in the canoe, many of whom were women and children, to jump overboard, and those who demurred were forcibly compelled to obey.[ ] thus relieved of some of its burden, the canoe gradually forged ahead, and the diversion of the pursuers' attention to the jettisoned passengers, who were struggling in the water, enabled rauparaha to make good his escape to cloudy bay. the ngai-tahu people are especially proud of this encounter, which they regard as a brilliant victory, and have called it _rua moa iti_, or "the battle of the little moa's feather." it could not, of course, be supposed that a man of action, such as te rauparaha was, would long remain idle while so black a stain upon his reputation as a warrior remained unavenged. he therefore lost no time in sending his messengers to a branch of the ngati-awa tribe, who then resided at the wairau, soliciting their aid in a mission of retaliation. the request was readily granted, and, with this reinforcement, a war party of considerable strength set sail in their canoes for the _karaka_ groves which grew luxuriantly at o-rua-moa bay, immediately to the south of cape campbell, where it was fully expected that the enemy would be resting. in these anticipations they were disappointed. the prey had flown; and if the purpose of the expedition was not to fail utterly, there was nothing for it but to push on until the object of their search was found. they were soon rewarded, for close to the shore, at the mouth of the flaxbourne river, tu-hawaiki and his braves were encamped, and here the gage of battle was thrown down. that the encounter was a desperate one may be judged by the fact that both sides claimed the victory, and they seem to have withdrawn from the combat mutually agreeing that they had each had enough. according to the ngai-tahu account, te rauparaha's stratagem of sending one hundred and forty men of ngati-awa down the steep face of a cliff to cut off tu-hawaiki's retreat was successfully circumvented, the flanking party being caught in their own trap and every one of them destroyed. the ngati-toa are equally positive that the palm of victory rested with them; but in that event the advantage gained was not sufficiently great to justify them in following it up, for tu-hawaiki was allowed to depart next morning unmolested to kaikoura. on the journey down an incident occurred which betrayed the savage side of this man's nature, and showed how much he deserved, in another sense, the title of the old whalers, when they styled him "bloody jack." during the voyage the canoe commanded by tu-te-hounuku was capsized in a southerly gale, and the young chief was drowned, although every other man was saved. the selfishness of the men in seeking their own safety and letting their leader perish so enraged the fiery tu-hawaiki, that as soon as he heard of the accident he ordered the canoes ashore, and with his own hand slew every one of the surviving crew.[ ] immediately after this skirmish te rauparaha returned to the north island, where there was urgent need of his presence. with the coming of the ngati-awa, ngati-ruanui, and other taranaki tribes, the domestic disagreements, of which he stood in daily dread, began to ferment, and were already breaking out into open rupture. the ngati-awa had cast envious eyes upon a piece of country under tillage by ngati-raukawa, in the vicinity of otaki, and were openly boasting of their intention to make it their own. their cause was espoused by their taranaki relatives, and even a section of te rauparaha's own people threw in their lot with them against their old allies, the ngati-raukawa. this defection, which was especially distressing to te rauparaha, arose from some act of favouritism--real or fancied--displayed towards te whatanui, the great ngati-raukawa chief, for whom te rauparaha ever felt and showed the highest regard. these strained relations, however, did not break out into actual civil strife until the ngati-raukawa people discovered the ngati-ruanui malcontents looting their potato-pits at waikawa. up to this point the ngati-raukawa had borne the pin-pricks of the taranaki braggarts with some degree of patience; but this act of plunder satisfied them that, unless they were prepared to defend their property, they would soon have no property to defend. they therefore stood no longer upon ceremony, but straightway attacked the ngati-ruanui settlement, and thus let slip the dogs of civil war.[ ] in the conflict which ensued tauake, a ngati-ruanui chief, was killed, an incident which only served to fan the flame of internecine strife, and hostilities of a more or less virulent nature involved all the settlements along the coast from waikanae to manawatu. both sides were equally well armed, for guns and ammunition were now plentiful, the traders having learned the maori's weakness, and being prepared to pander to it for the sake of cheap cargoes of flax and potatoes. the consequence was that in each skirmish numbers of the belligerents were killed, and te rauparaha saw with increasing dismay the havoc wrought amongst his fighting men, and the useless waste of tribal strength which must ensue from these insane proceedings. only too clearly he realised that, watched as he was by enemies both on the north and to the east, this state of division might at any moment be seized on as an opportunity for attack. his own efforts to reconcile the disputants were unavailing; and when he saw the spirit of insurrection growing and spreading beyond his power of control, he determined upon making an appeal for outside aid. he accordingly dispatched a mission to taupo, requesting te heuheu to bring down a large force wherewith to crush out the seeds of rebellion, by inflicting a telling defeat upon the most turbulent insurgents. te heuheu's reply to this appeal was of a practical kind. within a few months he marched out from taupo with an effective fighting force of eight hundred men, officered by some of the most famous of his own and the maungatautari chiefs of that time. almost immediately upon their arrival on the coast, they, in conjunction with ngati-raukawa, proceeded to attack the ngati-awa at a pa close to the otaki river, and for several months the conflict was maintained with fluctuating success. notwithstanding the numbers brought against them, the ngati-awa and ngati-ruanui proved themselves stubborn fighters, maintaining their ground with heroic desperation. in several of the battles the slaughter was exceedingly heavy, amongst the slain being counted many important chiefs attached to both sides; but still the issue hung in doubt, and so it remained until the great battle of pakakutu had been fought. on this occasion a supreme effort was made by te heuheu, and the struggle culminated in the decisive defeat of ngati-awa. their _pa_ was taken, and their chief takerangi was slain. with his death was removed one of the principal factors in the quarrel, and the way was paved for a settlement honourable in its terms to all the parties. a conference of considerable importance was immediately held at kapiti, at which the disquieting issues were discussed, and in the debates upon these contentious points both te heuheu and te whatanui raised their voices with force and eloquence in the cause of peace. as a result of these negotiations, the differences which had so nearly wrecked te rauparaha's consolidating work of fourteen years were amicably settled.[ ] the general result was that ngati-raukawa were reinstated in their possessions at ohau and horowhenua and as far north as rangitikei, while ngati-awa retired southward of waikanae, and extended their settlements as far in that direction as wellington, where they replaced pomare, and where, under te puni and wharepouri, they were found by colonel wakefield and his fellow-pioneers of the new zealand company when they came to the spot in . but, though the civil war had thus ended in a manner satisfactory to himself and to his friends, te rauparaha was stung to the quick by the knowledge that his authority had been so completely set at defiance by ngati-awa. and this feeling of irritation was further intensified by the fact that some of his own tribe had shown him so little regard as to aid and abet them in their rebellion. their disloyal conduct so preyed upon his mind that, as the result of much serious reflection, he determined to absolve himself from all further responsibility on their behalf, by abandoning the business of conquest and returning with te heuheu to maungatautari, where he proposed to live for the remainder of his days the quiet and restful life, to which waning years look forward as their heritage. to this end he collected a number of his most trusty followers, and, shaking the dust of kapiti from his feet, had travelled as far as ohau in the execution of his petulant decision, when he was overtaken by representatives of all the tribes, who begged him to return and once more become a father to them. in these entreaties the suppliants were joined by te heuheu, whose advocacy broke down the chief's resolution. he at length agreed, amidst general rejoicing, to retrace his steps, and none rejoiced more sincerely than the repentant ngati-awa. between the date of the battle of pakakutu and the arrival of the ship _tory_, te rauparaha does not appear to have been engaged in any conflict of great importance in the north island, the years being spent in visiting the various settlements which had been established under his guiding genius. these journeys frequently led him across cook strait to the middle island, where, at cloudy bay, there was now a considerable colony of his own and the ngati-awa people, who were actively cultivating the friendship of the whalers.[ ] these visits also more than once led him into sharp conflict with his old enemies, the ngai-tahu, who were ever vigilantly watching for the favourable moment to repay their defeat at kaiapoi. once they met him on the fringe of port underwood, at a spot still called fighting bay, where they claim to have defeated him with considerable slaughter. from this engagement, in which his small force was neatly ambushed, the great chief only escaped by diving into the sea and hiding amongst the floating kelp, until he was picked up by one of his canoes, and, availing himself of a heavy mist which suddenly enveloped the scene of strife, fled, leaving his allies, the ngati-awa, to continue the unequal struggle. after the fight, the bones of the slain were left to bleach on the beach, where they were repeatedly seen by the first settlers at the port.[ ] this success did not induce the ngai-tahu to pursue the retreating enemy across the strait; but, elated in spirit, they returned to the south for the purpose of fitting out an expedition on a much more extensive scale, with which they hoped to inflict a crushing blow on their hated enemy. these operations were superintended by taiaroa, who in a few months had gathered together a flotilla of canoes and boats sufficient to transport some four hundred men. these he commanded in person, and with them proceeded by slow stages to the neighbourhood of cloudy bay. hearing that te rauparaha was at queen charlotte sound, the southern warriors steered their fleet for tory channel,[ ] but failed to encounter the enemy until they had reached waitohi, near the head of the sound. here they met, and immediately attacked a large party of te rauparaha's followers, who were under the personal direction of their chief. the ground upon which the battle took place was broken and wooded, and it was difficult to bring the whole of the respective forces advantageously into action at once; and therefore the combat resolved itself into a series of skirmishes, rather than a pitched and decisive battle. at the end of the first day te rauparaha shifted his position, a fact which has encouraged the ngai-tahu people to claim the credit of a victory. but ngati-toa did not retire from the field altogether; and for several days hostilities continued to be carried on in a succession of duels between the champions of the opposing tribes, in which the battle honours were fairly evenly divided between them. in these contests te rauparaha is said to have warned his men against risking defeat by coming too confidently into close quarters with the enemy. numerous incidents during the siege of kaiapoi had served to impress him with ngai-tahu's prowess in this class of warfare, and any recklessness on the part of his warriors might therefore easily lose him a valuable life. thus, when a ngati-toa and a ngai-tahu were struggling upon the hill-side in full view of both forces, and victory ultimately rested with the southern warrior, te rauparaha exclaimed to those about him, "_i kiia atu ano_" (i told you it would be so). but though an occasional success of this kind attended the southern arms, nothing of a decisive nature was accomplished by taiaroa on this raid. scarcity of provisions shortly afterwards compelled him to withdraw to the south; and before he had time or inclination to devise fresh reprisals, events of an external nature had so operated upon the maori mind as to make any further conflict between the ngati-toa and ngai-tahu tribes undesirable if not impossible. it is now fitting to remember that, while these events had been proceeding along the eastern coast of the middle island, the process of subduing the southern tribes had not been neglected on its western shore. out of the extreme confidence which pervaded the ngati-toa mind upon the return of te pehi from england, a wider field of conquest was sought than appeared to be provided by the plains of canterbury. in obedience to these aspirations, an important division of their forces was sent across the strait for the purpose of forcibly establishing themselves in the bays of the nelson coast. _hapus_ of the ngati-toa and ngati-awa united in this expedition, which was attended with unqualified success. they immediately moved to attack the ngati-apa settlements in blind and massacre bays, from out of which they drove the inhabitants with ruthless severity, and immediately assumed possession of the soil. those who had fought under te koihua and te puoho, the ngati-awa leaders, built _pas_ and remained in permanent occupation of the conquered country;[ ] but niho, a son of te pehi, and takerei took their ngati-tama, and perhaps a few of their ngati-rarua, warriors across the wild and almost trackless mountains which intervene between blind bay and the west coast. from the buller district they worked their way southward, killing and taking prisoners almost the entire population as they went, until they reached the hokitika river, where resistance ceased and the need for further aggression disappeared. niho and takerei settled at mawhera, on the banks of the grey river, the centre of that romantic region, the greenstone country, which for centuries had been the eldorado of maori dreams.[ ] at various other points, both to the northward and southward of mawhera, the northerners established themselves in permanent _pas_, to the total exclusion of the weaker tribes, who had formerly controlled the barter of the precious nephrite. from these points of colonisation the restless spirit of the invaders was ever carrying them further southward and eastward in search of excitement and adventure. no systematic occupation of the land appears to have been attempted southward of hokitika; but stray bands of marauders were frequently setting off on predatory expeditions into the pathless mountain-waste of western otago, which then sheltered the shadowy remnant of the ngati-mamoe race. further and further these adventurers penetrated into the deep glens, rugged passes, and dark forests, until they knew the geographical secrets of the interior almost as intimately as did its former conquerors.[ ] in the absence of written records, many of these militant journeys have necessarily been effaced from memory, and no tradition has been left to commemorate those whose valiant spirit led them into the wilds of a hostile country, from which only a lion-hearted courage could bring them safely back. of one such venture, however, undertaken about the year , for the purpose of attacking tu-hawaiki on his island fortress at ruapuke, the story has been preserved; and, because of its ambitious conception and dramatic ending, it is worthy of being narrated here as it has been told in the tribal traditions. the chief concerned in leading the adventure was te puoho, who came originally from the country south of the mokau river, in taranaki, to assist te rauparaha in his policy of conquest. he was at this time the head chief of the ngati-tama tribe, who were closely allied to ngati-awa, and whom the fortune of war had now settled round the great bays on the nelson coast. hearing that the inhabitants away to the south were "a soft people," te puoho conceived the idea of raiding their country, and, in addition to matching himself against tu-hawaiki, securing a large number of slaves,[ ] whom he intended to use as beasts of burden. to this end he first completed a strong stockade, in which he intended to herd his captives, and then he set off with a fighting force of some seventy men, and a small number of women, to pierce his way through the dense forest and dangerous passes of the overland route. arrived at the grey river, where niho and his people were settled, he expected to be largely reinforced from amongst his former friends; but, to his consternation, he found that his old comrade, niho, was distinctly hostile, and most of his people coldly indifferent. a number of his own followers, finding that the purpose of the expedition was not approved by niho, declined to proceed further in the enterprise and returned to cook strait. but at length te puoho, nothing daunted, succeeded in persuading a section of the ngati-wairangi to reverse their decision not to accompany him, and then with about a hundred followers he commenced his march southward. his first route took him over the sinuous tracks which hugged the coast line until they reached jackson's head, a distance of many hundred miles from the point of departure. few particulars of this stage of the journey have been preserved: but it is known that they returned northward as far as the haast river,[ ] where they deflected their course to the eastward, and proceeded inland by way of the haast pass. at lake hawea they met a ngai-tahu eeling party, from whom they ascertained that the chief with his two wives had gone to lake wanaka. on the pretence of guiding two of te puoho's men thither, the chief's son, te raki, succeeded in getting them deeply entangled in the bush; and then, abandoning them to their own resources, he slipped away to his father's camp and advised him of what had occurred. arming themselves, they went in search of the two men, who were now wandering aimlessly about, and, finding them floundering in the forest, they soon succeeded in killing them. when it dawned upon him that he had been duped, te puoho exacted _utu_ from amongst the other members of the eeling party, and pushed on further into the interior. they navigated the upper waters of the molyneaux on _mokihis_, and made their way down the valley of the mataura through the country of wakatipu. in view of his previous achievements in that direction, no one would have been surprised had te rauparaha or his people attempted an invasion of these far southern districts by sea; but no one ever dreamed of a blow being struck at them by an inland route. consequently, when this war party marched down the valley of the mataura, the inhabitants were wholly off their guard, and fell an easy prey to the invaders. an eeling party was captured at whakaea, and their store of food proved exceedingly welcome to the hungry wanderers, whose only provender up to this time had been wild cabbage, the root of the _ti_ palm, and a few _wekas_. these wanderings had now occupied the northern men nearly two years, during which many of them had died of cold and hunger. but, though a "dwindled and enfeebled band," they were still strong enough to secure another party of ngai-tahu, whom they found camped in the midst of a clump of _korokiu_ trees, which then grew upon the waimea plain. te puoho believed that he had secured the whole of the party, but in this he was mistaken. some few escaped, and, hastening off to the tuturau _pa_, warned the people there of the approaching danger, the fugitives making their way to the awarua whaling station. te puoho and his party immediately proceeded to occupy the abandoned _pa_, in the hope that a prolonged rest would recruit their exhausted powers; and, innocent of the fact that retributive justice was at hand, they settled down to leisurely enjoy the recuperative process. from awarua news of the raid was dispatched to the island of ruapuke, where tu-hawaiki and his men were. memory of the event is still well preserved on the island, as the last occasion on which oblation was offered to the god of battle. in accordance with ancient maori custom, this ceremony took place in an immense cavern, which opens to the sea beach beneath the island fortress. it may still be seen, a dark abyss; and, although geological periods must have elapsed since it was instinct with the life of mighty waters, the echo-swish still sounds and resounds, as if acting and reacting the story of its birth. shut up amidst these ghostly sights and sounds, the tribal _tohunga_ spent the night in severe exorcisms. outside in the open was heard the clash of arms, plaintive wails and lamentations of the _tangi_ for the dead. at dawn of day the prescribed spells to weaken the enemy were cast and the invocation to the spear was spoken. the followers of tu-hawaiki then sailed for the mainland and effected a landing at what is now known as fortrose. concealing themselves during the day, they marched under cover of night, reaching tuturau early on the morning of the third day. being unapprehensive of danger, the inmates of the _pa_ were in their turn caught napping, and the recapture was effected as smartly as had been the original capture. as the attacking force crept cautiously within gunshot, te puoho was observed sleeping on the verandah of one of the houses. a slight noise fell upon his quick ear and startled him. he sprang to his feet; instantly the report of a gun rang out, and he fell a lifeless heap upon his bed. some thirty in all were killed. the rest, with one exception,[ ] were taken prisoners, and confined on ruapuke island, whence they were afterwards smuggled away by a pakeha-maori boatman named mcdonald, who, under an arrangement with the ngati-toa tribe, landed them safely back at kapiti. the haast river raid, as the exploit of te puoho is known in maori history, becomes interesting not only because it was on this occasion that the followers of te rauparaha reached the most southerly limit of their aggressions upon ngai-tahu, but because it affords another evidence, if such were needed, of the extremes to which the maori was ever ready to go in order to get even with an enemy. primarily, the raid was designed as a stroke of retaliation upon tu-hawaiki, whom they hoped to surprise by pouncing upon him from a new and unexpected quarter. to effect this, a long and dangerous journey had to be braved; they had to penetrate into a region in which nature seemed to have determined to impose in the path of human progress her most forbidding barriers. not only had this band of half-clad savages to cross what the late sir julius von haast has described as "one of the most rugged pieces of new zealand ground which, during my long wanderings, i have ever passed," but they had to contend with snowfields lying deep in the southern alps, the swollen torrent, the pathless forest, and the foodless plains. not even the roar of the avalanche as it swept down the mountain-side, the impassible precipice as it loomed dark across their path, nor the severity of the climate, with its oscillations from arctic cold to tropical heat, was sufficient to chill their ardour for revenge. so for two years they wandered amidst some of the grandest and gloomiest surroundings, at times suffering bitterly from cold and hunger. in the stress of these privations the weaker ones died; but the survivors were sustained by the enthusiasm of their leader, who directed their course ever to the southward, where they hoped some day to meet and vanquish their hated rival. of the fate which overtook them, history has told; and, though future generations may be reluctant to endorse the purpose of their mission, they will not refuse to credit them with a certain spirit of heroism in daring and enduring what they did to accomplish their end. the peace which had been dramatically concluded at kapiti by te heuheu breaking the _taiaha_ across his knee, and which closed what is known as the hao-whenua war, was sacredly observed by all the tribes for some years; and this respite from anxiety afforded te rauparaha freedom of opportunity to pursue his grudge against the rangitane and muaupoko peoples. the humiliated remnant of the muaupoko tribe had by this time sought and obtained the protection of te whatanui, who had promised them, in his now historic words, quoted many years afterwards by major kemp, that so long as they remained his dutiful subjects he would shield them from the wrath of te rauparaha: "i will be the rata-tree that will shelter all of you. all that you will see will be the stars that are shining in the sky above us; all that will descend upon you will be the raindrops that fall from heaven." although slavery was the price they had to pay for the privilege of breathing their native air, it at least secured them the right to live, though it did not secure them absolute immunity from attack. more than once te whatanui had to protest against the inhumanity of ngati-toa towards those whom he had elected to save from utter destruction; and these distressing persecutions did not cease until the ngati-raukawa chief told te rauparaha, in unmistakable language, emphasised by unmistakable gestures, that, before another hair of a muaupoko head was touched, he and his followers would first have to pass over his (te whatanui's) dead body. unwilling to create a breach of friendship with so powerful an ally as te whatanui, te rauparaha ceased openly to assail the helpless muaupoko, though still continuing to harass them in secret. he plotted with te puoho to trap the rangitane, and with wi tako to ensnare the muaupoko: the scheme being to invite them to a great feast at waikanae, to partake of some new food[ ] which the _pakeha_ had brought to kapiti. so far as the rangitane were concerned, the invitation was prefaced by an exchange of civilities in the shape of presents between mahuri and te puoho; and when it was thought that their confidence had been secured, the vanity of the rangitane was still further flattered by an invitation to the feast. a considerable number of them at once set out for waikanae; but, when they arrived at horowhenua, te whatanui used his utmost endeavours to dissuade mahuri, their chief, from proceeding further. knowing te rauparaha as he did, he felt convinced that he could not so soon forget his hatred for those who had sought to take his life at papaitonga: and, while he would have had no compunction about killing in open war every man and woman of the tribes he was protecting, his generous soul revolted against the treachery and slaughter which he feared lay concealed beneath the present invitation. his counsel was therefore against going to waikanae; but the impetuous young mahuri saw no reason for alarm, and, heedless of the advice of te whatanui, he led his people to their destruction. on their arrival, the hospitality of te puoho was of the most bountiful nature. the visitors were shown to their houses, and no effort was spared to allay any suspicion of treachery. but one night, as they sat around their fires, the appointed signal was given, and the guests were set upon by a force superior in numbers by two to one, and, to use the words of a native[ ] who knew the story well, "they were killed like pigs," only one man escaping from the massacre. this was te aweawe, whose life was spared at the instigation of tungia, in return for a similar act of humanity which the rangitane chief had been able to perform for him some time before. in justice to te rauparaha, it should be stated that this massacre was not entirely prompted by his old grudge against the rangitane people, but partly arose out of a new cause of grievance against them, which serves to illustrate the complexity of maori morality and the smallness of the pretence upon which they deemed a sacrifice of life both justifiable and necessary. the offence of which the rangitane people had been adjudged guilty enough to deserve so terrible a punishment was the fact that they were somewhat distantly related to the ngati-kahungunu tribe, resident in the wairarapa. these people had some time previously killed a number of ngati-toa natives, whom they believed to be plotting their destruction; for, while they were discussing their plans in one of the _whares_, a ngati-kahungunu, who was sleeping with at least one ear open, overheard their conversation, and at once gave the alarm, with the result that the tables were turned on the scheming ngati-toa. their deaths, however, had to be avenged; and it is easy to understand how gladly te rauparaha would avail himself of this new excuse for wiping out old scores. the morning after the massacre, tungia took te aweawe outside the waikanae _pa_, and, placing a weapon in his hand, said, "go! come back again and kill these people." the released chief at once made his way back as best he could to the manawatu, where he found most of the settlements deserted by the terror-stricken inhabitants, in consequence of the appalling news which had just reached them of the death of their friends. he, however, succeeded in collecting about thirty warriors, and with these he travelled down the coast, receiving additions by the way from a few stragglers belonging to his own and the muaupoko tribes. when they reached waikanae, they found the ngati-toa and ngati-awa peoples busily engaged in gathering flax to trade away for guns and powder and little suspecting an attack. they had beguiled themselves into the false belief that the shattered rangitane would not be able to collect in so short a time a force sufficiently strong to harm them. when, therefore, te aweawe, at the head of his brave little band, burst in upon them, dealing death at every blow, they, in their turn, were at all the disadvantage of being taken completely by surprise. upwards of sixty of the followers of te rauparaha were killed, amongst them a chieftainess named muri-whakaroto, who fell into the hands of the enraged te aweawe, and was despatched without the slightest compunction. matea, the rangitane chief second in command, was more chivalrous to tainai rangi, for he spared her and brought her back, a prisoner certainly, but still alive. such of the flax-gathering party as were not slain made good their escape down the coast; and the avengers of mahuri, fearing that they might soon return with a large and active war party, beat a hasty retreat, well satisfied with the result of their mission of revenge--the last great act of slaughter perpetrated by the resident people as a protest against the conquest of their country. any policy of retaliation which te rauparaha and the chiefs who were co-operating with him may have contemplated, as a step towards restoring the equilibrium of tribal honour, had to be indefinitely delayed, owing to the rapidity with which events developed in another direction; and that delay robbed them of future opportunity. the death of waitohi, te rauparaha's sister, and mother of rangihaeata, had just occurred at mana, where she had been living with her son. the demise of so high-born a woman necessarily demanded a _tangi_ on an unusually elaborate and extensive scale, and the whole of the tribes who had been associated with te rauparaha in his scheme of conquest assembled on the island to attend the obsequies of the honoured dead. levies of provisions were made upon all the tributary tribes on both sides of the straits, and for several weeks the peculiar rites of a maori funeral were continued without intermission. it is said that, for no other purpose than to appear opulent in the eyes of his guests, te rauparaha ordered the killing and cooking of one of the poor slaves who had come from the pelorus with his people's tribute to the feast. be this as it may--and it is by no means improbable under the circumstances--the strange admixture of funeral and festival, which marks the maori _tangi_, was observed at mana in all its completeness and elaboration. but the death of waitohi brought in its train something more than a great _tangi_; for indirectly it was the cause of the renewal of hostilities between ngati-awa and ngati-raukawa, culminating in the engagement known in maori history as kuititanga, which was fought on october , . it is not clear why or in what way the old sore between these comrades in arms was re-opened, but the weight of testimony inclines towards the assumption that te rauparaha's irrepressible passion for intrigue was the moving impulse in urging ngati-raukawa to take the step they did. whether he had grown jealous of ngati-awa's increasing numbers and power, or whether, having achieved all he could hope to accomplish, he wished to shake himself free from any further obligation to them, cannot of course be asserted with any confidence. ngati-raukawa were nothing loath to join in any conspiracy against ngati-awa. living, as they did, north of kapiti, they began to find themselves somewhat out of touch with the whalers; and probably it was the rapid extension of trade, enabling ngati-awa to procure guns as readily as rauparaha himself, that induced him to instigate ngati-raukawa to break the truce which had existed since the battle of pakakutu. no breach of the peace actually occurred at mana, but bickerings and threats foretold the coming storm; and when ngati-awa returned to their _pas_ on the mainland, it was with the full consciousness that the attack would not be long delayed. the ngati-raukawa mourners remained at mana for some time after ngati-awa had left, and it would have caused the latter no surprise had ngati-raukawa made an attack upon them--as indeed they invited it--as they passed waikanae on their way to otaki. this ngati-raukawa did not do, but went on with every semblance of peace, even ignoring the shots of defiance which were fired by ngati-awa as they passed. towards evening, however, they altered their tactics, and, doubling back, surrounded the kuititanga _pa_ during the night, in preparation for the attack at daybreak. a reconnoitring party was sent out to investigate the state of the defences, one of whom was indiscreet enough to enter a house, and, rousing a boy by his intrusion, attempted to cover his blunder by asking him for a light for his pipe. the boy sharply recognised his visitor as a ngati-raukawa; and knowing that no friendly native would be prowling about at that unseemly hour, sprang for his gun, and fired point-blank at the intruder. the echo of the shot rang through the clear morning air, and was the signal for a general movement on both sides. the women and children made a hurried flight to the neighbouring settlements, from which ngati-awa reinforcements swarmed up to the assistance of their beleaguered tribesmen; and by daylight the full strength of both forces--variously estimated at between eight hundred and a thousand men--was actively engaged. the _pa_, which bore the brunt of the first assault, stood close to the seashore on a narrow tongue of sand, between the waikanae and waimea rivers.[ ] at the inception of the attack it was defended by a slender company of thirty men, who offered so stubborn a defence that the assailants were held in check until assistance arrived. a strong company of ngati-awa crossed the waikanae, and, catching ngati-raukawa between two fires at this point, caused them to deploy and so open an avenue, by which the supports reached the _pa_. trenches were now hurriedly dug in the loose soil, which, together with the protection offered by the stockade, afforded them a friendly shelter from the fire of the enemy. in this respect they were more fortunate than the aggressors, who, fighting in the open, suffered a greater number of casualties, including several of their principal chiefs. te rauparaha took no part in the battle; but that he anticipated its occurrence is proved by the fact that he landed from his canoe shortly after it commenced. and when, at the close of an hour's desperate fighting, ngati-raukawa, who had his silent sympathy, if not his active help, began to waver under their heavy losses, he thought it prudent to get beyond the danger zone, and, plunging into the surf, swam towards his canoe. ngati-awa, who knew that he was inside the enemy's lines, saw the movement, and made a spirited effort to frustrate it, in the hope of capturing the man to whose subtle intrigues they attributed all their misfortunes. an equally vigorous rally on the part of ngati-raukawa intercepted their rush, and saved the chief, though at heavy cost to themselves. with te rauparaha safe amongst the whalers, who were watching the conflict from their boats, ngati-raukawa began rapidly to fall back; and, after maintaining a slackened fire, retired from the field altogether, taking their wounded with them, but leaving to ngati-awa the victor's privilege of burying the dead. sixty of the ngati-raukawa had fallen, but only sixteen of the defenders. there were, however, many wounded in both camps. these were attended to by the medical men on board the _tory_, which arrived at kapiti on the day that the battle was fought; and, as dr. dieffenbach has left a graphic account of what he saw, no better authority can be here quoted:-- "all the people of the village were assembled; and, though grief was expressed in every face, they received us with the greatest kindness and attention, and we were obliged to shake hands with everybody. they regarded us as friends and allies, for we had brought with us from te-awaiti some of their relations; and when they saw the medical men of our party giving assistance to the wounded, their confidence and gratitude were unbounded. some of the women gave themselves up to violent expressions of grief, cutting their faces, arms, and legs with broken mussel-shells, and inflicting deep gashes, from which the blood flowed profusely. we had brought with us e patu, the son of a chief in east bay, whose uncle had been killed in the battle. we found the widow standing on the roof of a hut, deploring in a low strain the loss of her husband. when e patu approached she threw herself upon the ground, and, lying at his feet, related to him, in a funeral song, how great had been their happiness, how flourishing were their plantations, until the ngati-raukawa had destroyed their peace and bereft her of her husband. during this time e patu stood before her, convulsively throwing his arms backwards and forwards, and joining in her lamentations. an old woman, bent down under the burden of many years, had her arms and face frightfully cut; she was painted with red _kokowai_, with a wreath of leaves round her head, and gesticulated and sang in a similar manner. in this place there were no wounded; they had been carried to the principal and most fortified _pa_, which lies a little to the northward. this latter village was very large; it stood on a sand-hill, and was well fenced in, and the houses were neatly constructed. everything was kept clean and in good order, and in this respect it surpassed many villages in europe. the population seemed to be numerous, and i estimated it, together with that of the first-mentioned village, and a third, about a mile higher up, to amount, on the whole, to seven hundred souls. several native missionaries, some of them liberated ngati-awa slaves, live here; and the natives had built a large house, neatly lined with a firm and tall reed, for their church and meeting-house. at the time of our visit they were expecting the arrival of a missionary of the church of england from the bay of islands, who purposed living amongst them. the medical aid which they had given to their wounded was confined to binding the broken limbs with splints made of the bark of a pine, or of the strongest part of the flax-leaves, and carefully protecting the wounds from external injury by means of hoops. some of these bandages had been very well applied. i went to the beach on the following day to attend my wounded patients and to visit the scene of battle. this was at the third village, and many traces of the strife were visible: trenches were dug in the sand of the beach, the fences of the village had been thrown down, and the houses were devastated. the ngati-awa buried their own dead; and the improved state of this tribe was shown by the fact that, instead of feasting on the dead bodies of their enemies, they buried them, depositing them in one common grave, together with their muskets, powder, mats, &c., a generosity and good feeling as unusual as it was honourable to their character. the grave of their enemies they enclosed, and made it _tapu_ (sacred)." while this internecine strife raged up and down the coast, its disturbing influence had almost completely suspended the systematic settlement of the land by europeans. there were many in australia who, but for the peril of life and uncertainty of title, would long before this have swarmed over to new zealand and occupied its shores. only the most wanton and the more adventurous had come, and of these latter a few had been invited by the chiefs to remain, land being given to them on which to reside and establish themselves as traders. in isolated instances attempts had been made, chiefly by some subterfuge, to acquire from the natives large tracts of country for a nominal consideration; but these examples of dishonesty almost invariably brought their own punishment. one of the most unscrupulous of such perfidious transactions was that of captain blenkinsopp. he had sailed these seas in command of the whaler _caroline_, and had made more than one trip to cloudy bay. there he became infatuated with a maori woman of the ngati-toa tribe. his alliance with her gave him influence with te rauparaha and rangihaeata, who, about the year , entered into a bargain with him, the spirit of which was that for the right to procure wood and water for his ship while at cloudy bay, the captain was to present the tribe with a ship's cannon,[ ] which he had then with him at kapiti. the conditions of this bargain were reduced to writing by blenkinsopp, but not the bargain te rauparaha had counted upon. for wood and water, ocean bay and the magnificent wairau plain were substituted in the deed; and rauparaha, with that reckless disregard for the value of his signature which he exhibited at all times when fire-arms were concerned, had signed it with the lines of his _moko_. the wairau plain is the floor of the valley through which the wairau river runs. terminating on the shores of cloudy bay, it recedes in ever-increasing elevation and diminishing breadth back for many miles, until it vanishes in the gorge at the foot of the spencer range. covering an area of , acres, it comprises some of the richest agricultural and pastoral land in the middle island, and was at this time treasured by rauparaha as one of his principal food-producing centres. eager as he was to procure weapons with which to slaughter his enemies, he was equally sensible of the value of this valley; and it is scarcely reasonable to suppose that he would have parted with so rich an estate for a single piece of rusty artillery, subject to the additional disadvantage of the difficulty involved in its transport. knowing that he was, for such purposes, ignorant of the english language, blenkinsopp, with a touch of irony, presented te rauparaha with a copy of the deed, and told him to show it to any captain of a man-o'-war who might visit kapiti. te rauparaha did not wait for a naval officer, but gave the document to a whaler protege of his, named hawes, then living at his island fortress. hawes explained to rauparaha that by the deed he had parted with all his land at the wairau: whereupon the chief, in a fit of anger, tore up the paper, threw the fragments into the fire, and declared that, so far as he was concerned, the contract was at an end. not so with blenkinsopp. he sailed to sydney, and there proceeded to raise a substantial sum of money upon the security of his deed from a solicitor named unwin, then practising in that city. for reasons which need not be discussed here, mr. unwin eventually claimed the valley as his own; and his attempt to occupy the district, its disastrous failure, culminating in the massacre at the wairau bar, in , of his manager and all his men, are now matters of history, affording another instance of how the just sometimes suffer for the unjust. nor were the deception of mr. unwin and the death of mr. wilton and his fellow employees the full measure of the toll exacted as the result of blenkinsopp's perfidy. when colonel wakefield met at hokianga the native woman who had formerly been captain blenkinsopp's wife, and was now his widow, she showed him a document which purported to be the original deed to which her late husband had secured te rauparaha's signature. as a matter of fact, the document was no more than a copy which had been left amongst the captain's papers, but, believing it to be genuine, wakefield purchased it for £ ;[ ] and it was largely on this spurious foundation that his brother, captain wakefield, subsequently, and with such fatal results, sought to build up the new zealand company's claim to the wairau. this transaction, in which captain blenkinsopp was so scandalously concerned, was but typical of many another, by which the credulity of the natives was cunningly exploited. their influence had, however, been so far comparatively harmless, and the measure of injury they had inflicted had told more heavily upon the unscrupulous speculators than upon the natives. but now te rauparaha, and those tribes with whom he was associated, were about to be brought into contact, and to some extent into conflict, with a more persistent earth-hunger, and more powerful land-buyers, than any which had yet operated upon the coasts of new zealand. the spirit of colonisation was abroad in england, and the restless genius of edward gibbon wakefield[ ] was busy coining schemes whereby the spirit of the hour might be embodied in action. canada and south australia had each attracted his attention; and now his eyes were turned to new zealand as a field suitable for the planting of his quasi-philanthropic projects. his writings upon the subject of colonisation had drawn within the circle of his influence a galaxy of men, whose liberal education, lofty ideals, and generous impulses had earned for them the title of "philosophic radicals," and with these men, who stood for the most advanced development of english political aspiration, as its sponsors, the new zealand company was founded in . with the story of this company's early political troubles we are not concerned, for they bear only slightly on subsequent events in new zealand. but the central fact with which we are concerned is that the company was established for the purpose of acquiring land from the natives and transporting emigrants from england to settle thereon. to this end, the expeditionary ship _tory_ was hurriedly despatched from the thames, and arrived safely in new zealand waters, bringing with her colonel wakefield, brother of the founder of the company, with a staff of officers charged with the duty of conducting the negotiations for the purchase of land and arranging other preliminaries--which appeared to be regarded in the light of mere formalities--incidental to the introduction of a great colonising scheme. in furtherance of her mission, the _tory_ paid a brief visit to queen charlotte sound and port nicholson, and reached kapiti on october , , the day on which ngati-raukawa had been routed by ngati-awa at the fight of kuititanga. the first tidings of this engagement was brought to the officers of the _tory_ by a canoe-crew of natives who had just left the scene of strife; and although the sea was high, a boat's company had been organised, and was on the point of starting for the battlefield, when a message came from te rauparaha, who had returned to evans' island, that he wished them to pay him the honour of a visit. accordingly, the course of the boat was deflected to the island, and there the chiefs of the two races met for the first time. te rauparaha was sitting upon the ground beside his wife, a woman who has been described as being of the "meg merrilies" type. he was deeply smeared with red ochre, and evidently in an uneasy frame of mind. his manner was restless, his glance furtive, and he was obviously depressed at the result of the battle. as colonel wakefield and his party approached, te rauparaha rose and hastened to exchange with them the missionary greeting, shaking them by the hand. with equal alacrity he sought to convince them that he had been in no way concerned in promoting the fight. in these protestations it cannot be said that he was in the least successful, for the englishmen had already been prejudiced against him by the tales of his duplicity told them by both whalers and ngati-awas at cloudy bay; whilst his wandering, distrustful glances, as he spoke, were not calculated to inspire confidence. though, on the whole, his conduct was unsatisfactory, the interview was occasionally illumined by flashes of his imperious nature, the inborn power to lead and command momentarily asserting itself, only to be again clouded by a mean cringing, which seemed to bespeak a craven spirit. being assured that there were no hostile natives harbouring on board the _tory_, te rauparaha left evans' island for kapiti, promising to visit the ship on the following morning. next day he was received by colonel wakefield with a salute of guns, which filled him with alarm, until it had been made clear that the demonstration was intended as a great compliment to him and those chiefs who were with him. the preliminaries of the reception being over, the question of the land purchase was introduced to the chiefs; but colonel wakefield discovered them to be distinctly hostile to his proposals, an opposition which he attributed to the influence of mr. wynen, the agent for a sydney land syndicate, whose headquarters were then at cloudy bay. the energies of this gentleman had been insidiously applied to prejudice the native mind against the company's scheme of colonisation; and it was only with the greatest difficulty that the colonel was ultimately able to dissipate these prejudices, and to obtain their consent "to look over their land, and if he found it good, to take it." a gale which raged through the strait prevented all communication with the shore and suspended the negotiations until the st, when colonel wakefield made a definite proposal to purchase all the ngati-toa possessions, together with their rights and claims on both sides of the strait. after he had exhibited to their wondering eyes a great portion of the goods--the finery and the trumpery--which he intended to dignify by the term "payment," his proposals were doubtingly accepted, te hiko pressing for more soap and clothing, and te rauparaha clamouring for more arms. te rauparaha dictated to mr. jerningham wakefield the names of the localities involved in the sale; and the binding nature of the bargain was impressed upon the natives as clearly as the linguistic limitations of dicky barrett, the interpreter, would permit. these preliminaries settled, the following day was appointed for the distribution of the goods; but the ceremony was intercepted by the indisposition of te hiko, whom colonel wakefield regarded as an indispensable party to the transaction, and he refused to proceed without him. this refusal greatly aggravated te rauparaha, whose hands were itching to grasp the guns, which had been thrown like leaven amongst the heap of worthless stuff; and he railed bitterly against the deference paid to one whom he designated "a boy," destitute alike of any interest in, or knowledge of, land. "give us the goods," said he, "with more powder and arms. of what use are blankets, soap, tools, and iron pots, when we are going to war? what does it matter whether we die cold or warm, clean or dirty, hungry or full? give us two-barrelled guns, plenty of muskets, lead, powder, cartridges and cartouche boxes." this militant appeal was coldly ignored by colonel wakefield, who steadfastly declined to consider the question of distribution until hiko's return, which did not occur until two days later. on the rd, however, the chiefs again assembled, and the merchandise, which the company offered as payment for the land, was ostentatiously displayed on the deck of the _tory_. the consummation of the transaction was, however, still to be delayed. while te hiko was busy trying on one of the coats which he had selected from the pile of clothing, te rauparaha, tungia, and several of the warlike chiefs made an unseemly rush to secure some of the fowling-pieces, which were lying on the companion hatch ready for distribution. this exhibition of selfishness so exasperated te hiko that he at once threw down the garment, and, calling to rangihiroa to accompany him, went down over the ship's side and made for the shore in a fit of ill-humour, out of which he could not be cajoled until next day. colonel wakefield immediately suspended the proceedings, whereupon te rauparaha again became deeply offended at the consideration shown for one whom he regarded as so much his inferior; but, in spite of importunities and threats which sorely tried his patience, the colonel refused to recede from his former attitude, and declined to take one step towards the sale in hiko's absence. as wakefield was adamant against all their menaces and blandishments, nothing remained but to return on shore for the purpose of placating te hiko, which they shortly succeeded in doing. next day, unsolicited by colonel wakefield, both te hiko and te rauparaha came off to the ship, and, after entertaining themselves for some time with the novelties of the _pakeha_, they asked that the deed of sale might be read over to them, the map being at the same time consulted. after questions had been asked and answered, and all doubts on either side apparently cleared away, the fateful document was signed, te rauparaha making a mark peculiarly his own, and te hiko subscribing the sign of the cross. each then left the vessel, possessed of a gun, promising that the rest of the chiefs would come on board and sign on the next day. this ceremony was duly performed, but only eleven signatures were obtained, te rauparaha and two minor chiefs signing as proxy for the natives on the opposite side of the strait. a share of the gifts was reserved for te rangihaeata, who was at mana, and had taken no part in the negotiations. on thursday, th october, colonel wakefield was able to report to his directors in london that he had acquired by his purchases at port nicholson and kapiti, at a cost of a few guns, some powder, lead, and miscellaneous goods, "possessions for the company extending from the th to the rd degree of latitude on the western coast, and from the st to the rd on the eastern." but colonel wakefield still had some reservations as to the completeness and validity of his purchases; for he added to his report this qualifying sentence: "to complete the rights of the company to all the land unsold to foreigners in the above extensive district, it remains for me to secure the cession of their rights in it from the ngati-awa, and, in a proportionately small degree, from the ngati-raukawa and whanganui peoples." three days later he had an interview with the ngati-awa people at waikanae, and they, being excited by the spirit of war and fearful of another attack by ngati-raukawa, were easily tempted by the sight of guns and the prospect of powder. several of the elder chiefs addressed the assemblage, and urged their followers to acquiesce in the colonel's proposals, conditionally upon their receiving arms and ammunition. to this stipulation wakefield felt no reluctance in agreeing, and, for the purpose of giving it effect, a conference was arranged to take place on board the _tory_. on the appointed day ( th november) the natives were astir bright and early; soon after daylight they "began to come on board, and by o'clock more than two hundred had assembled on the deck, including all the principal chiefs of the sounds." to these unsophisticated dealers in real estate was produced the deed, phrased in stilted terms, which purported to convey to the colonel, as agent for the company, and in trust for the company, a vast area of country, over much of which the signatories had absolutely no authority whatever. "know all men that we the undersigned chiefs of the ngati-awa tribes, residing in queen charlotte's sound, on both sides of cook strait, in new zealand, have this day sold and parted with, in consideration of having received, as full and just payment for the same, ten single-barrelled guns, three double-barrelled guns, sixty muskets, forty kegs of powder, two kegs of lead slabs, two dozen pairs of scissors, two dozen combs, two pounds of beads, one thousand flints, the land bounded on the south by the parallel of the rd degree of south latitude, and on the west, north and east by the sea (with all islands), and also comprising all those lands, islands, tenements, &c., situate on the northern shore of cook straits, which are bounded on the north-east by a direct line drawn from the southern head of the river or harbour of mokau, situate on the west coast in latitude of about degrees south, to tikukahore, situate on the east coast in the latitude of about degrees south, and on the east, south and west by the sea, excepting always the island of kapiti, and the small islands adjacent thereto, and the island of mana, but including tehukahore, wairarapa, port nicholson, otaki, manawatu, rangitikei, whanganui, waitotara, patea, ngati-ruanui, taranaki, moturoa, and the several sugar-loaf islands and the river or harbour of mokau." the goods which were specified in the deed as the price of the land were carefully arranged on deck; but during the process of distribution a violent altercation took place, which was only quelled by a threat from the colonel to send the wares below and proceed to sea, if peace was not immediately restored. advantage was taken of the "momentary calm" thus secured to obtain the coveted signatures, and consenting chiefs to the number of about thirty appended their marks to the document. scarcely had the distribution of the beads and bullets recommenced than another mêlée, even more violent, took place. "in a moment," says the colonel in his report to the company, "the most tumultuous scene we had ever witnessed took place, in which many blows were exchanged: never did a ship witness such a scene of violence without bloodshed." a similar, "if not more unfriendly," riot occurred on shore amongst those natives who had first conveyed their goods to land before they commenced their peculiar method of division; but it mattered nothing to the company's representative how the natives abused their goods or each other so long as they had put their marks to his deed. equally was it a matter of indifference to the maoris how many deeds they signed, so long as they became possessed of arms and ammunition. it was sufficient for the one that he had outwitted his rivals, and appeared to be doing well for his employers, and for the other that they had satisfied the most pressing need of the moment. neither looked beyond the immediate present, or took a single thought for the long years of mistrust and misunderstanding that were to follow upon their hasty and ill-considered transactions. confident that he had made "a full and just payment" for the land described in the deed, colonel wakefield on th november went on shore and took possession of the estate, in the name of the company; and, in order to distinguish their possessions, "which so greatly predominate in this extensive territory," from those of other buyers, he designated them north and south durham, according to the respective islands in which they were situated. having completed his purchases at kapiti to his own satisfaction, colonel wakefield, on th november, sailed northward, intending to call in at whanganui for the purpose of perfecting his purchases there, as he regarded that district as one of some importance. but before he left he had received a glimmering that his proceedings had not been perfectly understood, and the first shadow of doubt must have crossed his mind when te rauparaha calmly informed him that he (te rauparaha) wanted more guns, and, in order to get them, intended to make further sales, embracing territory which the colonel believed he had already bought. language of the most reproachful character was used towards the chief, and his speedy repudiation of a solemn bargain was characterised in unmeasured terms; but te rauparaha steadfastly maintained that, so far as he was concerned, the sale in the middle island had not included more than d'urville island and blind bay at nelson. subsequent investigations proved that te rauparaha was right and the colonel was wrong; but it is doubtful whether, when he left for whanganui, the latter had realised the full extent of his error, and therefore he parted from the chief with bitterness in his heart and an angry word upon his lips. while these events were in progress in new zealand, the operations of the company and its contemporary land-speculators had not passed unnoticed in england. the british authorities were beginning to regard those islands with an anxious eye, but they displayed a painful indecision in adopting measures to meet the political emergency which they were commencing to realise was inevitable. as a tentative step, mr. busby was sent from new south wales in the capacity of british resident; but his usefulness was shorn down to the point of nullity by the purely nominal nature of the powers with which he was endowed. negative as the results of this experiment had been, it nevertheless encouraged the british authorities to take a still bolder step in the appointment of captain hobson, r.n., as the accredited british consul, who was authorised to negotiate with the chiefs, and, if possible, to acquire the country by cession, preparatory to annexing it as a dependency of new south wales. even hobson's position was extremely anomalous until the now famous treaty of waitangi had been formulated and successfully promulgated amongst the tribes. the ratification of this document by the chiefs was a severe blow to the new zealand company, while it is doubtful whether the maoris had more than a nebulous idea of its real meaning. it, however, gave the british government the colour of right to institute the principles of established authority in those islands, where it had become their imperative duty to control the colonisation which their indifference had not been able to thwart. with the policy of the treaty of waitangi we are not now concerned, beyond recording the fact that, in order to give effect to that policy, it became necessary to procure the signatures of all the principal chiefs, as acknowledging their assent to the solemn obligations involved in the covenant. to this end archdeacon williams came southward, and in due course reached kapiti, where, on may , , he succeeded, but by what means we are not told, in inducing te rauparaha to sign the treaty. similarly, major bunbury, an officer of the th regiment, had been despatched by captain hobson in h.m.s. _herald_, charged with the mission of securing the assent of the chiefs in the middle island to the proposals of the government. after having visited all the southern _pas_ of importance, and proclaimed the sovereignty of the queen both at stewart island and cloudy bay, he arrived at kapiti on june th, and to him we are indebted for the following account of what there occurred:-- "when we arrived off the island of kapiti several canoes were leaving the island, and on my preparing to go ashore, fortunately the first canoe we met had on board the chief rauparaha, whom i was anxious to see. he returned on board with me in the ship's boat, his own canoe, one of the most splendid i have yet seen, following. he told me the rev. mr. williams had been there, and had obtained his signature to the treaty, and on inquiring for the chiefs rangihaeata and te hiko, i was informed that we should meet them both, probably at the island of mana, and, as this lay on our route to port nicholson, thither we proceeded, the chief rauparaha remaining on board the _herald_, his canoes following. on our arrival, the _herald_ having anchored, i went on shore, accompanied by mr. williams and rauparaha. we learnt that hiko, son of the late chief te pehi, had gone out on a distant expedition. the other chief, rangihaeata, after some time returned with us on board, accompanied by rauparaha, when both signed the treaty." what arguments or other inducements were held out to the chiefs to lead them to append their marks to the document is not clear. rauparaha subsequently boasted that he had received a blanket for his signature, but whether this gift, or bribe, was tendered by the missionary or the major is equally a matter of doubt. it would, however, be safe to assume that the blanket was a more potent factor in securing the allegiance of the chief to the policy of the treaty than any arguments that could have been pressed upon him. it is certainly asking much of the intelligence of te rauparaha to assert that he was seized with the full significance of the step he had taken, seeing that the terms and intentions of the treaty were afterwards so diversely interpreted by cultured englishmen.[ ] major bunbury, when being sent out on his southern mission, was instructed by captain hobson to assemble the chiefs, to explain the provisions of the treaty to them, and further, to give them "a solemn pledge that the most perfect good faith would be kept by her majesty's government, that their property, their rights and privileges should be most fully preserved." in direct conflict with this official view, which was an accurate reflex of the instructions given to captain hobson himself by the marquis of normanby, the then secretary of state for the colonies, lord howick persuaded a committee of the house of commons to condemn the treaty as "a part of a series of injudicious proceedings," and with a light-hearted ignorance of maori reverence for landed rights,[ ] to assert that the acknowledgment of maori property in wild lands subsequent to the queen's assumption of sovereignty was "not essential to the construction of the treaty, and was an error which had been productive of serious consequences." whether or not te rauparaha and his fellow-signatories were able to analyse the language of the treaty with the precision of an english statesman, they had certainly never placed upon it such a loose interpretation as this. and when tidings of the committee's deliberations reached the colony, the alleged "serious consequences" which had followed upon the observance and administration of the treaty as laid down by captain hobson were safety itself compared with the catastrophe which might have followed from this rash attempt to repudiate, in the interests of the new zealand company, the essential principle of the treaty--that the "full, exclusive, and undisturbed possession of their lands and estates, forests, fisheries, and other possessions" was guaranteed to the natives by the queen. fortunately, at this time there was at the head of britain's colonial department a minister who held national honour to be dearer than personal gain. lord stanley, to his credit, refused to comply with the recommendations of the committee to confiscate the native land "without reference to the validity or otherwise of its supposed purchase from the natives," and at the end of the famous three days' debate induced the house of commons to adopt his view of the nation's obligations to the maoris. the crown having now assumed sovereignty over new zealand, it became necessary to administer its affairs impartially in the interests of both maori and _pakeha_ population; and, in this connection, one of its first and most pressing duties was to make an honest effort to unravel the complex web of land claims, in which both races had become unhappily entangled. the government of lord john russell accordingly appointed as a commissioner to adjudicate upon claims of all classes of buyers mr. spain, an english lawyer, who, it is said, had been a prominent electioneering agent on the side of the liberals. mr. spain arrived in new zealand on december , , and immediately took steps to establish his court. he has been described as a man of solid intelligence, but burdened with a good deal of legal pedantry; slow in thinking and in his apprehension of ways of dealing with new emergencies; steady and plodding in his methods, thoroughly honest in his intentions, and utterly inflexible to threats, though, perhaps, not unsusceptible to flattery. considering the magnitude of their alleged purchases, the claims of the new zealand company naturally took precedence over all others in the business of the court; and, having regard to the temperament of the commissioner, an inauspicious start was made by the representatives of the company metaphorically shaking their fists in his face. in some degree their annoyance may have been pardonable, for they, believing themselves to be the pioneers of a great colonising scheme, had flattered themselves that not only the merit of their cause, but the fact that they had made their purchases prior to the proclamation of the queen's sovereignty, would have placed them outside the exacting conditions of the treaty of waitangi. the coming of mr. spain, and his insistence upon an exhaustive examination of their titles, was a heavy blow to them, which they at first thought to ward off by affecting an attitude of amused indifference. they laughed at the treaty, with its engagement to respect maori rights in land, and its elevation of the maori to a civil status equal to themselves. but amidst this simulated merriment they exhibited an ill-concealed chagrin that the little self-governing community, which they had hoped to set up on the shores of cook strait, had been so unceremoniously superseded by the sovereignty of the queen, and they resented with fear and anxiety the appointment of a commissioner, who might deem it his duty to ask awkward questions regarding their titles. their policy was, therefore, one of delay and evasion, which was inaugurated by their raising technical objections to the constitution of the court, its jurisdiction, and its forms of procedure, but, most of all, to mr. spain's determination to call native evidence. that was surely an unnecessary elevation of the savage, and a corresponding degradation of the white man. in fact, they openly asserted that to put the testimony of the one against the other was a gratuitous insult to the dignity of the british subject. but this was not the full measure of spain's offending in the eyes of the company's champions. he was audacious enough to ask colonel wakefield to submit proof that those natives who had signed the company's deed had the right to sell the land which they thus purported to convey to the company; and some of them made themselves conspicuously offensive in the manner in which they ridiculed this demand as preposterous and ridiculous. the proceedings of the court at wellington[ ] do not materially concern our purpose, for te rauparaha took no part in the sale of port nicholson, nor need we burden the narrative with the interminable finesse which took place before the court was able seriously to attack the work which lay before it in other districts. when this condition was at length reached, spain soon saw that he was faced with a most serious problem. that the company's purchases were in most instances bad he had little hesitation in declaring. but there was no blinking the fact that hundreds of settlers had risked their all on the assurances of the company that they could give them a title, and it would have been cruel indeed to visit the sins of the company upon the unfortunate colonists. spain, therefore, halted between justice to the maoris and equity to the settlers, satisfying the requirements of his office by issuing interim reports, hoping that in the meantime some workable compromise might be evolved. this was ultimately found in an arrangement whereby mr. clarke and colonel wakefield were to agree upon what additional compensation was to be paid for the land purchased, and, failing their arriving at an understanding, mr. spain was to be the final arbitrator. at the outset of these negotiations, mr. clarke stipulated that the natives were not to be evicted from their _pas_ or their cultivations, nor were their burial-places to be disturbed; but to these reasonable reservations colonel wakefield could not at first be induced to frankly agree, while his unwillingness, or his inability, to comply with the ultimate awards tended to accentuate rather than to soothe public irritation. meanwhile, rangihaeata had been busy entering his practical protest against what he believed to be a violation of his rights at porirua. he, in conjunction with te rauparaha and te hiko,[ ] stoutly contended that porirua, like the wairau, had never been sold; and when, in the early part of , the company's surveyors went there to survey, rangihaeata blocked up the forest track, levelled the surveyors' tents to the ground, and, at the end of each day, undid all the work which they had performed. this interference with the survey was obviated by an assurance being given to the chief, that, even if the land were surveyed, the company's title must still be investigated by mr. spain before the settlers would be permitted to enter upon it. but, in defiance of this assurance, colonel wakefield, in april, , issued leases to four settlers--joseph hurley, thomas parry, benjamin lowndes and josiah torr--who at once proceeded to erect houses and occupy their holdings. two of the houses were nearly finished when the intelligence was brought to the chief. rangihaeata immediately gave the settlers notice of his intention to pull their houses down; and this threat, so chivalrously declared, was duly executed next day, without any unnecessary violence, by the chief and a band of fifty men. the indignation which followed this assertion of native authority found expression in a public meeting at wellington, at which the arrest of rangihaeata was violently demanded, and those present declared their readiness to assist the sheriff in effecting his capture. with the mandate of this meeting mr. murphy, the magistrate, refused to comply,[ ] and when, in the following june, the huts were again demolished, he wrote to the governor declaring his determination not to interfere "to prevent any natives keeping land which they state they have not sold, until mr. spain decides upon the claims." this determination to regard the porirua land claims as _sub judice_ met with the entire concurrence of captain hobson, but was as bitterly assailed by colonel wakefield, who committed the indiscretion, almost criminal under the circumstances, of declaring, when speaking at wellington, that he had not treated with the natives for a settlement of their claims, but preferred to employ the inconvenience created by these claims as grounds of complaint against the government, and as arguments in aid of his efforts to secure the removal of the governor. with such a feeling of declared insincerity pervading colonel wakefield's conduct, it is small wonder that the differences between the natives and the company were slow of settlement, or that the efforts of spain and clarke to that end were unduly protracted. equally true is it that thereby the cares and worries of the governor were unnecessarily aggravated, while both brown and white populations were exasperated almost to the point of desperation by the vexatious delays. the irritated state of the public temper thus engendered not only made acts of violence possible, but even encouraged them, and these only added fuel to the threatened conflagration. a native woman was found by her friends murdered at wellington, and suspicion fell upon a european. only a few months later a settler was discovered lying upon the petone road with his skull fractured, and questioning eyes were at once turned in the direction of the maoris. the burial-grounds of the natives were being repeatedly desecrated by _pakeha_ looters in search of greenstone ornaments, and in the prosecution of this shameful traffic, deep offence was given by the secret exhumation of the body of te rauparaha's brother, nohorua, at cloudy bay. for this act of violence to the honoured dead the natives would at one time have taken swift vengeance; but, acting under the restraining counsel of mr. clarke, they consented to refer their complaint to the government for settlement, a forbearance which the protector, in his letter to captain hobson, assured the governor greatly surprised him.[ ] the weight of these and other accumulating troubles began to tell heavily upon the frail physique of captain hobson, and borne down by the stress of his increasing responsibilities, he died at auckland in september, . before his successor, captain fitzroy, arrived in the colony, the tragedy for which the country was being rapidly prepared had been enacted, and the faithlessness of the new zealand company had been written in letters of blood on the floor of the wairau valley. [ ] "amongst these, there was a great chief named tu-hawaiki in maori, 'bloody jack' by the englishmen, because in his english, which he learned mostly from the rough whalers and traders, he often used the low word 'bloody'" (_memoirs of the rev. j.f.h. wohlers_). tu hawaiki was both the patron and the pupil of the whalers, and was referred to by them as an evidence of what they had done in civilising the aborigines. "he was undoubtedly the most intelligent native in the country in , and his reputation for honesty was such that europeans trusted him with large quantities of goods" (_thomson_). [ ] "just like the governor." [ ] travers doubts the occurrence of this incident, holding that had te rauparaha been guilty of such conduct towards his own people, he could never have retained the respect of his fellow-chiefs. wakefield, on the other hand, insists upon it, and it is also referred to in a ngati-toa account of te rauparaha's life found in white's _ancient history of the maori_. [ ] a modified version of this incident states that all the crew were drowned except an old woman, who escaped by clinging to the overturned canoe. tu-hawaiki and his friends waited about the shore for some days until the bodies were cast up, and then the old woman was killed, her death being part of the religious rites performed at the funeral ceremonies. but there are discrepancies in the tradition, upon which it is now impossible to arbitrate. [ ] this war is known in maori history as the hao-whenua war. [ ] te heuheu's peace was made at kapiti. he took a _taiaha_ and broke it across his knee. some people then gave him a long-handled tomahawk, and hoani tuhata gave a sword, and peace was made (_native land court record_). [ ] i am indebted to my friend, mr. robert mcnab, for the following note, culled from an american whaling captain's log, which probably refers to this period, the incident described having occurred at cloudy bay on saturday, april , :-- "at had visit from roabolla (rauparaha), the head chief of this bay (just returned from a marauding expedition), accompanied with the customary demand of lay of tobacco, muskets, and cask of powder, which i peremptorily denied. this they returned with a threat that i should not whale here, to which i replied i was perfectly willing to go to sea, for i would not submit to any imposition, although i would present them with the same the english ships and parties did, but no more, and if they would not take that they should have nothing. they finally consented to receive a dozen pipes, lbs. tobacco, and a piece of low-priced calico of about yards, priced s. d., and a tin pot, then dismissed them with a blessing. he afterwards came and demanded supper, which i, of course, declined furnishing him, and bade him goodbye. there is no other way to deal with these people only to be positive with them, and let them know you do not fear them, as if any timidity is shown, they demand everything they see, nor would the ship hold enough for them, and the bad conduct of masters has encouraged them to be very importunate. i am willing to allow a lone ship here, not well armed, might be obliged to comply with their requisition, but no excuse can be offered for any one to do so now, as there are seven ships here all partially armed, and yet he showed me three muskets given him by the captains of ships the other side, to their shame be it spoken, for if they only reflected they would know 'tis for the interest of these natives to keep on good terms with us, as they know if ships are hindered coming here, adieu to their darling tobacco, muskets, and pipes. i have adopted this line of conduct from my own conviction, and the advice of the english masters now here who know them well." [ ] this fight is known in ngai-tahu tradition as _oroua-moa-nui_. the rev. canon stack says that paora taki, afterwards a well-known maori assessor at rapaki, who was fighting under tu-hawaiki, recognised rauparaha, and might have killed him as he brushed past him on his way to the water, if he had only possessed a better weapon than a sharpened stake with which to assault him. [ ] dieffenbach says: "ten or twelve years ago ( - ) the southern headland of tory channel was the scene of a sanguinary contest between the original natives of the channel and the tribes of the ngati-awa. rauparaha, at the head of the latter people, earned inglorious laurels by shutting up his opponents on a narrow tongue of land and then exterminating them." [ ] "te koihua settled near pakawau, in massacre bay, where i frequently saw the old man prior to his death. strange to say, his love for greenstone was so great that even after he and his wife had reached a very advanced age, they travelled down the west coast in , then a very arduous task, and brought back a large rough slab of that substance, which they proceeded diligently to reduce to the form of a _mere_" (_travers_). [ ] "every tribe throughout maoridom prized greenstone above everything else, and strove to acquire it. the locality in which it was found was known by report to all, and the popular imagination pictured untold wealth to be awaiting the adventurous explorer of that region" (_stack_). [ ] when mr. edward shortland was travelling in the middle island in - , an account of which he has left us in his _southern districts of new zealand_, he had for guide and assistant a native named huruhuru, who employed the leisure of his evenings in giving mr. shortland information about the interior of the country, with which he was well acquainted. he drew a map of the four great lakes in central otago, described the country through which the path across the island passed, and was able to name the principal streams, and even to point out the various stopping-places at the end of each day's journey. [ ] in confirmation of at least one purpose of the expedition--that of securing slaves--it is interesting to note that, with the exception of two children who were killed and eaten at lake wanaka, none of the prisoners were sacrificed, although the temptation to do so must have been difficult to resist, as the party often suffered severely from hunger. [ ] "for three miles we followed this stream, flowing in a north-north-east direction, through a comparatively open valley, with occasional patches of grass on its sides, and arrived then at its junction with a large stream of glacial origin, and of the size of the makarora, which came from the eastern central chain, and to which, according to the direction of his honour the superintendent, i gave my name. this river forms, before it reaches the valley, a magnificent waterfall, several hundred feet in height" (_haast's "geology of canterbury and westland"_). [ ] the exception above referred to was nga-whakawa, te puoho's brother-in-law, who escaped in the dim light of the early morning. mr. percy smith, writing in the _polynesian journal_, says: "his was a most unenviable position. a distance of nearly five hundred miles in a straight line separated him from his own people, the intermediate country being occupied by tribes bitterly hostile to his, who would welcome with joy the opportunity of sacrificing him. but notwithstanding the exceeding difficulties which lay in his path, this brave fellow decided to try to rejoin his relatives at massacre bay, at the extreme north end of the south island. how long his arduous journey took i know not, but it must have been months. he dare not keep near the east coast, which was inhabited by his enemies, but had to follow the base of the mountains inland, seeking his sustenance in roots of the fern, which is very scarce, and of the _taramea_, occasionally snaring a _weka_ or other bird. so he made his toilsome way by mountain and valley, swimming the snow-cold rivers, ever on the alert for signs of wandering parties of his enemies, only lighting fires after dark by the arduous process of _hika-ahi_, or rubbing two sticks together, enduring cold, fatigue, and hunger, until, after making one of the most extraordinary journeys on record, he at last reached the home of his people at parapara, massacre bay. here he was the first to bring the news of the disaster which had befallen te puoho and his companions. the daughter of this man, born after his return, named ema nga-whakawa, was still living at manawatu a few years since." [ ] this food was composed of pumpkins, probably the first grown on the coast. [ ] the late rangitane chief at awapuni, kerei te panau. [ ] kuititanga means the wedge-shaped piece of land which is formed by the junction of two rivers. [ ] this celebrated cannon is now at the town of blenheim. its history has been stated as follows, by the late john guard, of port underwood. in , his father, the original "jack guard" of the _harriet_, brought this gun from sydney and traded it away to nohorua, a brother of rauparaha, for the right to establish a whaling station at kakapo bay. this bargain was greatly facilitated by a demonstration which guard gave by loading the gun and firing it off, for its power vastly pleased the natives, who christened it _pu-huri-whenua_, "the gun that causes the earth to tremble." in , captain blenkinsopp came upon the scene, and is said to have carried the gun away from kakapo bay "without leave or licence," and bartered it to rauparaha for the wairau plain and ocean bay. subsequently, it was brought back to port underwood by rauparaha, and again given to guard's father. after his death, it was taken possession of by the province of marlborough as an historic relic, during the superintendency of mr. eyes. [ ] "previous to sailing, colonel wakefield purchased from a lady, representing herself to be the widow of captain blenkinsopp, some deeds professing to be the original conveyances of the plains of the wairau by rauparaha, rangihaeata, and others to that gentleman, in consideration of a ship's gun. they were signed with elaborate drawings of the _moko_ or tattoo on the chiefs' faces" (_wakefield_). [ ] according to lord lytton, edward gibbon wakefield was "the man in these latter days beyond comparison of the most genius and widest influence in the great science of colonisation, both as a thinker, a writer, and a worker, whose name is like a spell to all interested in that subject." [ ] mr. somes, one of the champions of the new zealand company in london, thus expressed the views of the directorate upon the treaty: "we did not believe that even the royal power of making treaties could establish in the eye of our courts such a fiction as a native law of real property in new zealand. we have always had very serious doubts whether the treaty of waitangi, made with naked savages by a consul invested with no plenipotentiary powers, could be treated by lawyers as anything but a praiseworthy device for amusing and pacifying savages for the moment." to this lord stanley replied through his secretary that he was "not prepared, as her majesty's secretary of state, to join with the company in setting aside the treaty of waitangi after having obtained the advantage guaranteed by it, even though it might be made with 'naked savages,' or though it might be treated by lawyers as a praiseworthy device for amusing and pacifying savages for the moment. lord stanley entertains a different view of the respect due to obligations contracted by the crown of england, and his final answer to the demands of the company must be that, as long as he has the honour of serving the crown, he will not admit that any person, or any government, acting in the name of her majesty, can contract a legal, moral, or honorary obligation to despoil others of their lawful and equitable rights." [ ] "long before the arrival of the white man in new zealand there was a proverb amongst the maoris--'_he wahine he whenua, e ngaro ai te tangata_,' which may be rendered in english 'for land or wife man stakes his life'" (_clarke_). [ ] when the court opened at wellington on th may, one of the first witnesses called was dicky barrett, who had acted as interpreter to colonel wakefield when making his purchases, and mr. george clarke, who appeared as the representative of the natives, has left us the following sketch of dicky's appearance in the box: "barrett was a shore whaler who had married a native woman; he was a decent fellow enough among men of his class, but he was very ignorant, and i soon made him show, in the course of his evidence, that he did not even understand the english meaning of the deeds he professed to interpret. he admitted, too, that instead of telling the natives, as the deed set forth, that one-tenth of the surveyed lots should be reserved for their use, he had simply put it that one lot of the alienated land should be kept for the maoris and one for the _pakehas_, and so on through the whole--that is, one half the land should be kept for their use. he admitted, further, that he had taken no account of many natives who were unwilling to sell. it soon became clear that barrett's qualification to interpret was that he spoke whaler maori, a jargon that bears much the same relation to the real language as the pigeon english of the chinese does to our mother tongue." [ ] "te hiko, whose signature colonel wakefield had boasted of obtaining in , being examined before the governor, the chief justice, colonel wakefield, the rev. o. hadfield, and others, denied that he had signed any deed of sale of porirua. e. j. wakefield asserted the contrary. the ignorant barrett ... admitted that hiko's signature was 'not obtained willingly,' and clarke, the protector, skilled in the language, declared that the document signed was calculated to mislead the natives. hiko was constant in his denial of wakefield's statements, and hobson's mind was 'left with the impression that he had not sold' the land" (_rusden_). [ ] subsequently, a similar application was made to chief justice martin, when he arrived in wellington in october, , but he also declined to issue a warrant for the arrest of rangihaeata, partly because the application was _ex parte_, and argument was requisite before judgment could be given on so grave a matter, and partly on technical grounds connected with the police magistrates ordinance. [ ] mr. spain, writing to captain hobson in , remarked that the natives at wellington had, upon many occasions, shown the greatest forbearance when deprived of their cultivations, and he very much doubted whether their white brethren would have followed their example if placed in similar circumstances. chapter vii wakefield and the wairau amongst the many unsatisfactory negotiations for the purchase of land entered into between colonel wakefield and te rauparaha, few seem to have been so ill-defined as that relating to the wairau plain. whether wakefield really believed that he had bought it, or whether rauparaha was equally confident that he had not sold it, will never be known. certainly it is difficult to understand how such a wide difference of impression could have arisen between them, had they both been sincere in the transaction. it is true the colonel might have considered that the plain was included in the purchases made in , when he bargained for four hundred miles of country, extending from the th to the rd degree of latitude on the west coast, and from the st to the rd degree on the east coast. but he knew that the plain had never been specifically named, and in his heart he must have felt that no valid title could rest upon a purchase made as this one was, its full purport not being clearly explained by dicky barrett, who acted as interpreter, and the signatures of three chiefs only being obtained to the deed, when thirty thousand natives had, by native law, a voice in its disposal. that colonel wakefield did have some reservation, later on, about his right to the land is almost certain, for, after the settlement of nelson had been in progress about a year, he strongly opposed the suggestion of his brother, captain wakefield, to include the wairau in the district to be surveyed, partly because he considered that its occupation might militate against the success of the wellington colony, but chiefly because he anticipated that the company's title would be disputed by other claimants and by the natives. it would therefore seem that captain wakefield, the resident agent of the company, was the more to blame for the improper occupation of the valley and for all the subsequent trouble, which he expiated with his life. he was as conversant as the colonel with the whole circumstances of the case, perhaps more so; and, had it not been that he had no alternative between opening up the wairau and acknowledging the ignominious failure of the nelson settlement, he would hardly, in the face of so many warnings, have persisted in his high-handed and injudicious course. the story of the nelson settlement repeats the tale of undue haste, imperfect preparations, a disposition to make florid promises and hold out inflated inducements, that characterised all the new zealand company's attempts at colonisation. one of the essential features of this settlement was that each settler should receive acres of rural land, acres of suburban land, and one town acre. but after the most thorough exploration of the region round blind and massacre bays, it was found that, although a great deal of inferior country had been included in the sections laid off by the surveyors, there was still an enormous deficiency in the area required to provide for all the settlers who had either paid for their land in advance or were waiting to settle on it. misled by the reports of some of his officers, captain wakefield had caused it to be broadly published that there was more than sufficient land at port whakatu to meet the requirements of the settlement, and it was while looking round for some tangible fact to justify his assertion that he bethought him of the wairau. during his many excursions in search of rural land, mr. tuckett, the company's chief surveyor, had discovered a route via top house, by which the wairau might be reached after a journey of miles. this fact was reported to captain wakefield, who ordered that a complete examination of the district should be made by mr. tuckett. he, accompanied by his assistant, mr. davidson, and captain england, a landowner in the settlement, made an extensive exploration, and subsequently conveyed the discomfiting intelligence to the resident agent that the wairau plain was the only available surface between cape farewell and cape campbell sufficient to afford the number of sections required to complete the settlement. the survey of the plain was then decided upon, but intelligence had reached kapiti that the _pakehas_ had been down to the wairau and that they intended to take possession of it. immediately upon the receipt of this news, rauparaha, accompanied by hiko and rangihaeata, crossed over to nelson and sought an interview with captain wakefield. in plain and straightforward terms the natives told the europeans, who had gathered in dr. wilson's residence to hear the _korero_, that they had not sold the wairau to the principal agent of the company, and that they had no intention of doing so, unless (to use rauparaha's own expressive phrase) "the cask of gold was very great." they therefore warned them not to go there, as they had no right to the land. captain wakefield's answer was that he intended to proceed with the survey, as he claimed the land in the name of the company. rangihaeata vehemently denied the sale, and backed up his protestations by a threat that if captain wakefield attempted to carry out his intentions he would meet him and take his head. the agent was in no way disturbed or shaken by the hostile attitude of the chiefs; and to rangihaeata's boisterous manner he calmly replied that, if any interference was offered, he would come with three hundred constables and arrest the belligerent natives. this unconciliatory attitude did not in the least assist to clear the atmosphere, for rangihaeata went about the settlement during the next few days openly threatening with death every one who, he conceived, had any authority amongst the colonists, if they ventured to annex the wairau, unless they could first succeed in killing him, in which event, he said, the land would remain as the lawful possession of the conqueror. rauparaha, on the other hand, assumed the air of the diplomat, and professed not to sympathise with the policy of his lieutenant, whom he described as a "bad man." at the same time, in his fawning fashion, he entreated the europeans not to go to the wairau, and begged that the dispute might be referred to mr. spain, the government land commissioner, who had been appointed to investigate the claims of the company. but captain wakefield repudiated the jurisdiction of mr. spain in the matter, and refused to comply with the request. the chiefs, finding that neither threats nor persuasion could shake captain wakefield in his determination to take possession of the wairau, indignantly left the settlement, rauparaha expressing his intention to lay the whole circumstances of the case before the queen's commissioner and demand an immediate settlement of the claim. scarcely had the angry ngati-toas left nelson than the three chiefs who were resident at the wairau arrived. these natives were sons of rauparaha's elder brother, nohorua, the oldest of whom, rawiri puaha, had previously informed mr. tuckett, when that gentleman visited his _pa_, that the plain was theirs and that rauparaha had no power to sell it. they were gratified at the idea that the europeans looked upon it with a favourable eye, but, at the same time, they were in no haste to enter into any negotiations for its sale until they had considerably extended their cultivations, in order that they might fairly claim a larger compensation. doubtless one of their reasons for desiring closer intercourse with the _pakehas_ was that, in addition to their clearings, they had a large number of pigs running on the plain, which they used as a marketable commodity with the settlers at port underwood. but as fast as they cleared and cultivated the land and reared their pigs, rauparaha was in the habit of coming over and coolly helping himself, with the result that his relations with the resident people were by this time considerably strained, and they probably thought that the presence of the settlers would check these depredations on the part of their high-handed relative. when they heard that rauparaha had been to nelson, they, being utterly mistrustful of his methods, at once concluded that he had gone there for the purpose of selling the plain; and it was to counteract this policy, as far as possible, that they went to see captain wakefield. the latter had always been much more considerate to resident natives than to those whom, like rauparaha and rangihaeata, he described as "travelling bullies."[ ] he was therefore most anxious to make a valid and binding bargain with puaha, to whom he offered a small schooner, and any reasonable quantity of goods, if he would acknowledge that the wairau had been purchased by his brother, the colonel. this puaha refused to do, and therefore, at a subsequent interview, the resident agent adopted another line of argument, contending that the company had already a legal title to the district by virtue of its being included in the latitude and longitude purchases made in , and by right of a deed bought from captain blenkinsopp's widow for £ . puaha denied the validity of both titles, pointing out that "the wairau" had evidently been written into the first deed after signature; and that, in the second case, if rauparaha had sold any portion of the land to blenkinsopp, he had no right to do so without his (puaha's) consent, which had never been asked and never given. for three days the conference was continued by the agent and the chief, without either being able to convince the other; but, at last, puaha withdrew, still protesting in manly and dignified language against the views of the agent as to his title to the land. after these animated interviews, it might have been supposed that captain wakefield would, in his calmer moments, have seriously reviewed the position, and that against the vague and shadowy rights of the company, as expressed in the two deeds in his possession, he would have set the fact that the authenticity of these sales was being stoutly contested by the resident and non-resident natives interested. he might have been expected also to recognise that the whole question, having been placed in the hands of mr. spain, was _sub judice_, and as such should remain in abeyance until the court had pronounced its judgment. these considerations were, however, altogether outweighed by the desire to placate the settlers, who were clamouring for their land, and to prevent the exposure of the company's inability to fulfil its engagements. the fear that, if this could not be done, he would be open to crushing censure from all with whom they had entered into engagements, and the desire to rescue his own and his brother's reputation from public anger and ridicule, biased his otherwise judicial mind against the merits of the opposing case. accordingly, he decided to act upon the impulse that moved him most, and on april , , he entered into three contracts for the survey of the plain with messrs. barnicoat and thompson, mr. cotterell, and mr. parkinson. in view of the probability of native interference, a special provision was inserted in the tenders that the contractors were to be indemnified in case of loss; and, on this understanding, the surveyors, with forty assistants, arrived a few days later, and commenced operations--messrs. barnicoat and thompson at the marshlands side of the valley, mr. cotterell in the neighbourhood of riverlands, and mr. parkinson still higher up the plain, towards grovetown. at first, the resident natives allowed the work to proceed with but slight resistance. once or twice they refused to permit timber to be sawn for pegs and ranging rods; but with the exercise of a little tact and patience these difficulties were overcome, and the work had proceeded with so little friction that before rauparaha arrived messrs. barnicoat and thompson had practically completed their contract, the others not being quite so far advanced. rauparaha and rangihaeata were at mana when the news of these proceedings reached them, and they at once engaged with their english friend, joseph toms, to convey them and a portion of their party in his schooner, _three brothers_, to port underwood, whence they intended to reach the wairau in their canoes. on the st of june the schooner and the canoes arrived at the port, and rauparaha, with one hundred armed followers, at once proceeded to the house of mr. cave, who for seven or eight years had been employed there as cooper for the whaling stations, and with whom they were on the best of terms. to him they declared their intention of burning the surveyors' camps, and for that purpose they left for the wairau the same evening, in eight canoes and a whaleboat. next morning rauparaha, with thirty of his people, appeared at mr. cotterell's camp on the opawa river, and, after stripping his huts, burned the _toetoe_ grass with which they were covered, as well as the survey pegs and ranging rods prepared from manuka sticks. they then assisted the surveyors to carry their belongings to the boats, and shipped them off to the _pa_ at the mouth of the river. their next proceeding was to paddle up the wairau to mr. barnicoat's camp, which was situated on the river-bank close to the ferry bridge, and there they re-enacted their settled programme. in these proceedings rauparaha was very firm, yet conciliatory. there was no exhibition of temper or violence towards persons or property. he simply gave the surveyors to understand that he would have none of them or their surveying there, and that the sooner they returned to nelson the better he would like it;[ ] and, to this end, he assisted them to remove their instruments and personal effects to a place of safety before demolishing their _whares_. in logical fashion, he argued that the _toetoe_, having grown upon the land, was his, that he was entitled to do what he pleased with his own, and that so long as he did not interfere with any of the articles brought from england, he was committing no breach of justice. the instruments and baggage were placed in the boats and taken down to the _pa_, where they were safely landed and their owners treated with every consideration. but, before matters had reached this crisis, the contractors had despatched a joint letter to mr. tuckett, at nelson, explaining the gravity of the situation, and asking him to come down at once and certify to the work already done. on receipt of this communication mr. tuckett, accompanied by mr. patchett, at once set out for the wairau; and, on his arrival at the bar, on rd june, he was met by mr. cotterell, who briefly related all that had transpired since the arrival of rauparaha, and the present position of natives and contractors respectively. so soon as he had grasped the situation, mr. tuckett hastily wrote a letter in pencil to captain wakefield, giving details, and intimating his intention of remaining on the scene until the captain should make his pleasure known to him. this letter he entrusted to mr. cotterell, who at once left with his men in the boats for nelson. the chief surveyor then set off up the opawa river to the site of mr. cotterell's camp, where he pitched a tent and remained all night. in the morning he proceeded, in company with mr. patchett and mr. moline (mr. cotterell's assistant), to search for mr. parkinson, and, when they arrived at his hut, they found it in possession of a few natives, who had in no way interfered with it. the surveyor and his party not being there, mr. tuckett inquired for rauparaha and rangihaeata, who he was informed were in the bush. he thereupon explained that he intended to go over to the awatere, that he would be absent about three days, and that at the end of that time he desired to meet the chiefs at mr. cotterell's camp, where he would converse with them over the recent events. the natives gladly undertook to convey this message to rauparaha, who, with rangihaeata, a number of their followers, and mr. parkinson's men, were awaiting them at the appointed place of meeting when the party returned from their explorations beyond the vernon hills. here the expected conference took place, rauparaha calmly but firmly explaining his reasons for interference. he claimed the wairau as his own, but since there was a dispute about it, he had, on his return from nelson, placed the matter in the hands of mr. spain, who had appointed a day on which to hear the case, rauparaha on his part undertaking that in the meantime none of his people should enter upon the land. the day appointed by mr. spain had passed, and fearing that, if the survey was finished before he adjudicated upon their claim, they would lose their land, they had determined to stop the proceedings. rauparaha expressed himself as being still willing to abide by mr. spain's decision, but the survey must cease and the europeans must leave, until such time as that judgment should be given. mr. tuckett vainly endeavoured to point out the hardship this course would impose upon the contractors and their men, who were dependent upon their work for their living. he also explained that he was expecting instructions from captain wakefield, and asked permission to remain until he heard from his superior. his request for delay was met by a command to remove his tent to the boat, and, upon his refusing to obey, rangihaeata burst into a violent passion, and, in a torrent of invective, reminded mr. tuckett of the warning he had given him in nelson, ironically remarking that, if he was so fond of the wairau, he (rangihaeata) would bury him there. this insulting outburst was treated with studied contempt by the chief surveyor, who quietly rebuked rangihaeata for his ungentlemanly behaviour, telling him that he would not converse with him until he mended his manners. while this brief altercation was proceeding, rauparaha had remained silent, although he was evidently exercising a restraining influence upon his comrade. but he now advanced, and once more politely requested mr. tuckett to have his tent removed; but that gentleman still persisted in his right to remain, whereupon rauparaha, becoming impatient, ordered some of his own people to carry out his behest, and in a few minutes the tent was struck and stowed away in the boat. mr. tuckett then deemed it unwise to offer further objection, and, together with the two chiefs, he agreed to go back to the _pa_. it had been mr. tuckett's intention to embark for nelson next morning, but in the night a south-easterly gale came up and blew for three days, causing such a surf on the bar that rauparaha advised him not to attempt to cross it. during this compulsory stay, the chief was most profuse in his expressions of goodwill towards the europeans, and by his fawning and obsequious manner created a feeling of revulsion in the minds of the englishmen. rangihaeata, on the other hand, left them severely alone, seeking neither favours nor intercourse of any kind, and, save on one occasion, his isolation was complete. that exception arose from the fact that one of the men reported that he had lost a handkerchief and a billhook, which he had seen in the possession of rangihaeata's people. mr. tuckett at once approached the chief, and asked to have the property returned. his reply was that he had some bad men as well as good ones amongst his followers, with the sarcastic addition that perhaps mr. tuckett was in the same position; but that, as he had come to the wairau to defend his own and not to thieve, if the surveyor could identify the man, he would have his property back; failing that, he could have _utu_ instead. the billhook was soon found, and here the incident ended; but the impression it made upon mr. tuckett was that, if rangihaeata was more violent than rauparaha, he was up to this point certainly the more noble of the two. as soon as the weather cleared, the chief surveyor prepared to take his departure, but, as the boat would not carry both passengers and baggage, it was finally decided that messrs. barnicoat and parkinson should remain, while messrs. tuckett, patchett, and moline proceeded to nelson, although the chiefs raised no objection to the whole party remaining until additional boats could be brought, or until they could be conveyed to one of the whaling stations at port underwood. by noon on the following day mr. tuckett and his companions had got well into blind bay, when they observed the government brig _victoria_ under full sail. a gun was fired from the ship as a signal to board her. on doing so, they learned that the vessel had just left nelson, and was proceeding to the wairau with the police magistrate (mr. thompson), captain wakefield (the company's agent), captain england, j.p., mr. cotterell, and some of the would-be proprietors of the proposed settlement, as well as the chief constable, mr. maling, and twenty-four labouring men who had been sworn-in as special constables. the agent informed the chief surveyor that, after mr. cotterell had arrived at nelson and made his report, it had been decided to proceed as soon as possible to the scene of operations, and arrest the chiefs on a charge of arson, a warrant having been granted by messrs. thompson, p.m., captain wakefield, captain england, and a. mcdonald, esq., justices of the peace. mr. tuckett was naturally surprised and deeply grieved at this intelligence, and, in deprecation of the rash and impolitic step he informed captain wakefield of rauparaha's interview with mr. spain, and of the chief's willingness to abide by the decision of the court. he further pointed out the great care observed by the natives not to interfere with any of the surveyors' property, or to injure the persons of any of their employees. he proceeded to argue that the men on board would not number one-half the strength of the natives then at the wairau; and contrasted this numerical weakness with the threat made by the captain at nelson, that, if rangihaeata interfered with the survey, he would come with three hundred constables to arrest him. his impression, therefore, was that the smallness of the party would inspire confidence in the minds of the natives rather than dread, and he strongly urged that, however satisfied the agent might feel about the result, prudence demanded that they should appear on the plain with such a force as would completely overawe the maoris, and to which there would be no humiliation in surrendering. in support of his views, he handed to captain wakefield a letter which he had received from the rev. mr. ironside on the day that he had met mr. cotterell at the bar, in which the missionary, ripe in experience of maori feeling, and knowing how tenaciously they clung to their rights in landed property, ventured the opinion that, unless this dispute was most diplomatically handled, the result might be extremely serious. mr. ironside, taking the missionary view of the company's scheme of colonisation, expressed great anxiety lest a collision might arise out of the subject of the claims to land, which would eventually terminate in the extinction of the native tribes, as had been the case in other countries settled by europeans. he urged upon mr. tuckett not to be precipitate in endeavouring to include the wairau in the nelson survey, informing him that the resident natives and rauparaha were at issue about the land, to such an extent that the former, if left to themselves, would probably withdraw from the wairau, and treat with the nelson agent for the sale of it. captain wakefield expressed himself deeply thankful for the counsel contained in mr. ironside's letter, and also for the advice tendered by mr. tuckett, with whose whole conduct he entirely acquiesced. so impressed was he with the force of the chief surveyor's arguments that he at once went into the cabin where mr. thompson was, and requested him to read mr. ironside's letter, stating that from it and other considerations urged by mr. tuckett he had come to the conclusion that it would be wiser to return to nelson. mr. thompson was totally averse to turning back. he begrudged missing the opportunity of giving the natives what he called "a prestige for the law," and of showing the government the correct way to deal with such troublesome fellows. at the same time he expressed the opinion that, if the authorities at wellington had dealt with these chiefs as he had dealt with ekawa at massacre bay, they would long ago have ceased to give annoyance. he also stated that, if they returned at that stage, they would simply be laughed at by the settlers, and he was not going to put himself in that undignified position. in his determination to go on mr. thompson was seconded by the crown prosecutor (mr. richardson), who begged that the expedition might not be given up, as he considered it was "only a lark"; and, in deference to the aggressive mood of the magistrate and the jocular anticipations of the lawyer, captain wakefield surrendered his better judgment. mr. tuckett, still apprehensive that disastrous consequences would follow if these unwise counsels prevailed, earnestly remonstrated with mr. thompson, taking up the attitude that he was exceeding his rights in proceeding to execute his warrant with an armed force. the magistrate admitted the correctness of mr. tuckett's premises, but hotly resented the assumption that he intended to use the force at all. he explained that he was not sure that he would land the men. certainly he would not give out the arms or take the force into the presence of the natives until he had first exhausted every plausible means of getting the chiefs to submit themselves to trial on board the brig. should they refuse to do so, which he did not expect, then he would investigate the charge on the spot, and afterwards decide whether he should call in the aid of the armed party or not. had this plan of operations been strictly observed, much that afterwards happened might have been averted; but in no single particular did the magistrate follow his promised line of action, for as soon as the vessel arrived at cloudy bay, the men were supplied with fire-arms and landed at the mouth of the wairau river. on seeing the government brig enter the bay, the maoris had abandoned the old _pa_ at the bar and retired further up the plain. next morning the magistrate's band of special constables was ordered to get ready and go in pursuit. perceiving that his worst fears were likely to be realised, and that the magistrate would not go without the armed force, mr. tuckett made a final appeal to captain wakefield, and offered to go himself and see rauparaha, in company with the chief constable and the interpreter, if only the men bearing arms were allowed to remain where they were. to this suggestion the captain readily agreed, and at once put the proposal before mr. thompson, who also consented, and ordered the chief constable to prepare himself for the journey; but when mr. maling announced himself ready to go, he presented such an armour-plated appearance that the chief surveyor absolutely refused to be seen in his company. he wore a cutlass at his side, a brace of pistols and a pair of handcuffs in his belt, while in his hand he carried a pair of heavy leg-irons. how he proposed to get rauparaha down to the bar when he was both handcuffed and hobbled is not very clear, nor did he have time to explain. mr. tuckett at once drew attention to his accoutrements, and pointed out that the leg-irons would have an especially exasperating effect upon the natives; while, if he insisted upon carrying pistols, it would at least be judicious to conceal them, and so avoid the appearance of intimidation. the magistrate at once ordered that the irons should be discarded, but also intimated that he had changed his mind as to the mode of procedure, and that he had now determined that the whole force should participate in the arrest, a decision from which no amount of persuasion could induce him to deviate. at the outset an attempt was made to ascend the river in boats, but as the tide was on the ebb and the wind unfavourable, the travelling was both slow and laborious, and before they had proceeded very far, the boats were abandoned, and the party, except mr. cotterell and his men, who remained in a whaleboat, commenced the march along a survey track which ran parallel with the river. by this time the ardour of the men had considerably cooled; the bitter cold night experienced at the bar had helped to extinguish their enthusiasm, and now the keen morning wind and bad walking through the long wet grass completely dissipated all idea that the affair was to be regarded in the light of a pleasure trip. during the course of the journey, which was both a slow and irritating one, captain wakefield expressed the opinion that the natives were more inclined for trade than for war, and that the prospect of their attempting to fight in the event of a forcible arrest being made was very small. in reply to this, mr. tuckett still adhered to his former opinion that the maoris would most certainly offer resistance if the armed force was taken into their presence. while this discussion was going on, the party reached the bend in the river at the back of grovetown, where they met a number of resident natives, who, in consequence of their differences with rauparaha, were quitting the wairau and returning to port underwood. amongst them were puaha, a lad named rore (who afterwards became the honoured and respected chief of the wairau natives), his father, and a few other maoris cutting timber in the bush. of these they inquired the whereabouts of rauparaha, and were informed that he was a few miles further up the valley, at the tua marina stream. night coming on, they decided to camp in the tua mautine wood, but took the precaution to send puaha forward to acquaint rauparaha with the nature of their visit; and he was followed by the remainder of the natives at a later hour. mr. thompson was careful to explain to puaha that he had not come to interfere with him; but it was noticed that his countenance bore a most anxious and concerned expression, and in the brief interview which he had with the magistrate, he not only advised, but earnestly entreated him not to precipitate a quarrel by taking the armed men into the presence of rauparaha and his followers. if he did so, it would be impossible to convince them that he had not come for the purpose of shedding blood. the pained look that fell upon the face of puaha when he realised the magistrate's intentions made a deep impression upon captain wakefield, and he several times made reference to it. even when waking from his sleep in the night, he spoke of the fact as though he had a gloomy presentiment that all would not be well on the morrow. mr. thompson did not appear to be troubled with any such forebodings; his concern was that he would not have the opportunity of arresting the chiefs, who would probably make good their escape as soon as puaha conveyed his message to them. he endeavoured to make light of the agent's fears by explaining that puaha's troubled looks were due to the conflict between the dictates of his barbarous nature and the influence of his christian teaching, which, under the circumstances, would naturally burn within him--a course of reasoning that captain wakefield seemed to cheerfully accept. at dawn next morning,[ ] the camp of te rauparaha was easily located by the smoke rising through the forest trees at the mouth of the waitohi valley, about four miles away. the magistrate then mustered his constables, and served out to each man eighteen rounds of ball cartridge. all told, they numbered forty men, bearing muskets, bayonets, and cutlasses, besides ten or twelve gentlemen who were without arms, the chief surveyor and mr. cotterell being members of the society of friends, and refusing, in accordance with their religious principles, to carry them. after a short march across the plain through the fern and _toetoe_, they arrived at the foot of the tua marina hills, and there they halted, having, during the course of the journey, been cautioned not to fire unless ordered to do so. the constitution of the arresting party was not calculated to ensure success in the event of resistance on the part of the maoris. they were untrained and without discipline. some of them were even unwilling participants in the expedition, for they had been coerced into coming by the threat that they would lose their employment in the service of the company if they refused to assist in the arrest of the chiefs. their arms were old-fashioned and not in the best of repair; there was a total lack of organisation, and apparently no common understanding as to who was in authority. under these circumstances, the result could scarcely have been different, regard being had to the character of the men with whom they had to deal. anyone sitting on the hill-side even now can, without the aid of a vivid imagination, picture the animated scene which unfolded itself on that bright june morning. what are now grass paddocks were flats, more or less covered with native scrub. of what was then dense bush only a few detached fragments now remain, but otherwise the physical features of the landscape are but little changed. the maoris, when they first observed the europeans, were squatting around their camp-fires on the western side of the tua marina stream. they immediately hailed them and inquired if they intended to fight. mr. thompson answered in the negative, and, after explaining the purpose for which he had come, asked the natives to place a canoe across the stream that he might come over and talk the more freely to them. rauparaha consented to this course, but stipulated that the armed men should not be allowed to cross over; and, the magistrate agreeing to this condition, the special constables were left in charge of captain england and mr. howard, who had instructions to act if called upon. he himself, accompanied by captain wakefield, mr. patchett, mr. tuckett, mr. cotterell and mr. brooks,[ ] the interpreter, crossed over in the canoe, which was immediately drawn back again alongside the bank by a native nicknamed piccawarro (big-fellow), to prevent any surprise from the force on the other side of the stream. when the magistrate walked into the presence of the natives, he observed that they numbered about ninety men and thirty-five women and children; but, as an indication of their peaceful intentions, they had placed in the midst of their group three women, the wives of rauparaha, rangihaeata, and puaha, while the party of resident natives sat on one side, and the immediate followers of rauparaha on the other. the noble and dignified puaha stood in the centre with a bible in his hand, reading from it select passages, and exhorting both parties to peace, while the natives sitting around chanted the usual welcome, _haere-mai, haere-mai_. rangihaeata lay concealed behind some bushes, but rauparaha came forward frankly when mr. thompson inquired for him, saying "here am i," and offered to shake hands with the strangers. but this courtesy was declined by the magistrate, who pushed the chief's hand away, and it was left to mr. tuckett and mr. cotterell to perform the politeness of a friendly greeting. in reply to rauparaha's inquiry as to what had brought them there, mr. thompson proceeded to explain to him, through brooks, the interpreter, that he was their prisoner. rauparaha disdainfully replied that it would be time enough to indulge in such talk when mr. spain had made his inquiry about the land. they then strove to make him understand that, as this case had nothing to do with the land, but was a charge of arson, it did not come within the province of mr. spain to inquire into it, but that the charge must be heard on the brig. rauparaha declared that he had not destroyed any european property, in proof of which he appealed to mr. cotterell, who admitted the truth of his assertion, and therefore he would not go on board the brig, but he was quite willing that the matter should be adjudicated upon there and then, and, provided the compensation demanded was not excessive, he would be prepared to pay rather than there should be any ill-feeling between the two races. thereupon he was told that, if he would not go voluntarily he must be taken by force, and a pair of handcuffs were produced to impress him with the sincerity of this threat. his chieftain blood was aroused by this insult; he indignantly dared them to try to imprison his hands in such implements and bind him like a slave, but begged for longer time to talk the matter over. the magistrate, who was now rapidly losing his temper, began to stamp and rave, and scorning the need for further argument, desired the interpreter to finally ask rauparaha to say whether he would go on board the brig or not; and, upon his still firmly refusing to do so, mr. thompson turned to brooks and exclaimed, with a violent gesture in the direction of the opposite bank, "then tell him there are the armed party; they will fire on them all." a native from the bay of islands who was present amongst rauparaha's people, and who understood a smattering of english, told those of rauparaha's party that an order to fire had been given, and sixteen of them at once sprang to their feet, and, presenting their muskets at the magistrate, awaited the order from their chief to fire. the mistaken impression under which this hostile display had been made was at once removed by the chief surveyor and mr. patchett, who walked over to them and explained that only a threat, and not an order, to fire had been given, and on this assurance they immediately subsided to their seats on the ground. the altercation between mr. thompson and rauparaha still proceeded. the former produced his warrant, which he told the chief was the "book-a-book" of the queen "to make a tie," and that he was the queen, again adding, in high and excited tones, stamping his foot the while, that if rauparaha did not consent to surrender himself, he would order the europeans to fire on them. this was quickly interpreted to the armed natives by the stranger from the bay of islands, and they instantly sprang to their feet and pointed their muskets at mr. thompson and his companions, as before. at this point, the peace-making puaha[ ] stepped forward with his testament in his hand and said, "don't fight, don't fight! this book says it is sinful to fight. the land has been made good by the preaching of the missionaries. don't make it bad again." in this way he strove to reason with mr. thompson, but the latter in his frenzy and rage pushed the native aside, and angrily called out for rangihaeata to come forward. that chief, on hearing his name, came from behind the bushes which concealed him, and, leaping into the midst of the throng, began to brandish his hatchet in dangerous proximity to the magistrate's head, meanwhile upbraiding him in a most violent manner. "what do you want with rangihaeata that you come here to bind him? do i go to port jackson or to europe to steal your lands? have i burned your house? have i destroyed tents or anything belonging to you?" such were the pertinent inquiries made by the angry chief; and, as it was quite evident from his flashing eyes and bitter tones that he was in no mood to be trifled with, mr. patchett appealed to the chief surveyor to interfere, "otherwise," he said, "we shall all be murdered." rauparaha, seeing that his companion's manner was not likely to improve matters, ordered him to retire and leave the settlement of the matter to puaha and himself, at the same time leading rangihaeata's lame wife, te rongo, to him, so that she might be under his protection. mr. tuckett then seized the opportunity of pointing out to captain wakefield that, in the event of rangihaeata's temper getting the better of him, they would be completely at the mercy of the natives, seeing that their retreat had been cut off by the removal of the canoe. after a brief consultation with puaha, they agreed that it would be wiser to restore the means of communication between themselves and their party on the other side of the stream. captain wakefield, taking the initiative, jumped into the canoe, and with the aid of a pole shoved the bow down the stream until he found a convenient landing-place on the other side. while this movement was in progress, mr. thompson[ ] had made another attempt to place the handcuffs upon rauparaha's wrists. just at that moment, when the chief had indignantly wrested his hand from the magistrate's grasp, and was bitterly protesting against the conduct of the queen's officers, captain wakefield stepped on to the opposite bank of the creek, and, noticing a threatening movement towards mr. thompson on the part of the natives, in a loud voice gave the command, "men, forward; englishmen, forward!" the company at once obeyed, and four of the men who were in the front, morgan, clanzey, ratcliffe and tyrrell, jumped into the canoe for the purpose of crossing over to assist mr. thompson. almost simultaneously the latter turned and entered the canoe at the other end, with the result that she was nearly capsized. a momentary confusion ensued, during which one of the englishmen, in striving to get in front of his companions on the bank, tripped and fell, and in the fall his gun was accidentally discharged. that was the fatal crisis, for it turned what had hitherto been only stirring drama into fearful tragedy. the natives had now no doubt that the europeans had come to fight, and te rauparaha, believing death to be imminent, turned, and, stretching his arms heavenward, exclaimed, "_hei kona e te ra, hei kona e te ao marama--haere mai e te po, haere mai e te mate_" (farewell, o sun, farewell, thou world of light; come on, o night, come on, o death). this was a cry which a chief would only utter in a situation of deepest stress, and no maori loyal to his leader would refuse to obey the call, even though it should cost him his life. the natives therefore briskly returned the fire, the first volley being fatal to tyrrell, who was shot in the throat. clanzey and ratcliffe were also shot by the first discharge of musketry, and their bodies fell into the water and sank to the bottom. the englishmen returned volley for volley, and, in the midst of the general fusilade, mr. thompson and his party passed safely over in the canoe. mr. tuckett was the last to leave the bank on which the natives were, which he did by entering the stream, and, with one hand on the canoe, pulling himself through the water. at this stage of the fight the natives might easily have killed every one of the leading europeans; for, when the latter started to cross the stream, the muzzles of the native guns were no more than a few yards away from them. the fact that they were not shot must have been due to some chivalrous sentiment on the part of the natives, who, seeing them unarmed, honourably abstained from attacking them. for some ten minutes after crossing the creek, mr. tuckett stood no more than twenty yards away, fully exposed to the fire that was being kept up by the natives and fourteen or fifteen of the european rank and file. beside him stood messrs. barnicoat, cotterell, richardson, patchett, and maling. the two latter were shot almost at the same moment. mr. richardson bent over mr. patchett and inquired if he was hurt, to which he replied, "i am mortally wounded--i am mortally wounded; you can do no good for me; make your escape." [illustration: _photo by w. macey._ monument on massacre hill, wairau.] the bullets now began to rain down upon them thick and fast. as several of the labourers had fallen in the vicinity, including northam, smith, and burton, mr. tuckett and his friends retired to the foot of the ridge, whither the other officers had gone with a portion of the men to consult as to the best course to pursue. they decided to retreat up the hill, and called to mr. tuckett and the rest of the party to follow them. this act of mistaken generalship cost them dear, for up to that time their fire had kept the natives penned up on the other side of the stream. but the moment they observed the europeans falling back, they dashed into the water, and, carrying their guns above their heads to keep them dry, crossed over and took possession of the trees which grew on the opposite edge. secure within this cover, they opened a galling fire upon the europeans, who were now hopelessly exposed upon the face of the fern-clad hill. mr. thompson did his utmost to steady the party by exclaiming, "for god's sake, men, keep together!" but his appeals were for the most part disregarded, not more than a third of the men remaining with their leaders, the rest retreating up the ridge and firing haphazard as they went. captain wakefield's attempts to instil something like discipline into the men were likewise frustrated by some panic-stricken individual rushing up and shouting out, "run for your lives, lads, run!"--an injunction which they were not slow to obey. in an instant all semblance of organisation had disappeared. time after time a few men were got together, but the majority were always utterly beyond control. on the last partial rally captain wakefield and warrant officer howard ordered the men to fix bayonets and charge the natives; but on one of the men (richard painter), who had been in the artillery, pointing out that there was no one visible to charge at, the idea was abandoned. the natives were still maintaining a steady fire, and a protest on the part of the artilleryman, who declined to remain where he was "and be shot down like a crow," led to a further retreat up the hill-side. on the second brow of the hill they met mr. cotterell, who was sitting down with a double-barrelled gun at his side. at the commencement of the quarrel he had been unarmed, but he had now seized this weapon in self-defence. he appeared deeply distressed at what had occurred, and expressed his intention of quitting the scene; but he was dissuaded from this course by captain wakefield, who, addressing him in most earnest tones, said, "for god's sake, mr. cotterell, don't attempt to run away; you are sure to be shot if you do." mr. cotterell therefore remained with the party, only remarking to painter, one of his own men, "this is bad work, dick." being now out of range of the native fire, a council of war was held of such of the party as could be got together, and finally it was decided that captain england and mr. howard should bear a flag of truce to the natives, and endeavour to settle the dispute by negotiation. a white handkerchief was accordingly fixed on a stick, and, with this fluttering in the breeze, the two officers started towards the wood. as an indication of their sincerity in desiring to relinquish fighting, captain wakefield ordered all those who were with him to lay their arms on the ground, and the natives, seeming fully to appreciate the nature of the advances that were being made to them, ceased firing, and a number of them left their muskets behind the trees and came out to meet the bearers of the flag. captain england and his comrade had almost reached the wood, when some of the englishmen who had halted much higher up the hill than captain wakefield, seeing the maoris emerging from the bush, commenced to fire upon them, notwithstanding that they had seen the flag of truce, as well as their companions laying down their arms. regarding this as a dastardly act of treachery, the maoris beat a hasty retreat into the bush, and reopened a rapid fire upon the englishmen, whereupon captain england and mr. howard ran back to the hill, and reached the spot from which they had started, uninjured by the native bullets. this attempt at conciliation having failed through the folly of their own people, the magistrate and captain wakefield decided to go further up the hill and meet those who were in advance of them, to induce them, if possible, to act in concert with the rest. in this they were no more successful than before, for no sooner did the one section begin to advance than the other began to retreat. seeing that this must go on indefinitely, mr. tuckett endeavoured to persuade captain wakefield that their best hope of reaching the beach and getting back to the brig was to abandon the ridge which they were climbing, and strike down into the plain. although this advice was twice pressed on wakefield, he took no notice of it, and mr. tuckett thereupon, calling to mr. barnicoat and a labourer named gay to follow him, descended in an oblique direction on to the plain below. for a moment mr. cotterell hesitated which course to take, but finally decided to go up the spur with the rest, and this decision cost him his life. when captain wakefield and his party began their last retreat, most of them left their muskets lying on the brow of the hill, and were therefore quite defenceless; but the maoris kept up a running fire as they gradually crept up the side of the range. as they approached the summit of the first knoll, mr. cotterell stopped and surrendered himself when the natives reached him, calling out, "enough, enough! that will do the fight," in the hope of assuring them that the europeans wanted peace. but he was immediately struck down and his body thrown into a manuka bush. captain wakefield followed his example by surrendering a few minutes later, as did also captain england, messrs. richardson, howard, brooks, cropper, mcgregor, and the magistrate. a few of the younger natives were in the van of the pursuit, and these held the prisoners in hand until the arrival of rauparaha, whom they had outstripped. at first gold was offered as ransom, and it seemed as if the feud would end without more bloodshed, for the chief had accepted the assurances of captain wakefield that the shooting had been a mistake, and had shaken hands with them all. but rangihaeata, who had killed the wounded as he found them lying on the hillside, panting with haste and anger, rushed up and called out to rauparaha, "what are you doing? your daughter te rongo[ ] is dead. what are you doing, i say?" scorning the acceptance of gold, he then fiercely demanded the lives of the principal europeans as the only _utu_ that would compensate him for the loss of his wife, exclaiming in impassioned tones, "we are sure to be killed for this some day. the white people will take _utu_; let us then have some better blood than that of these _tutua_ (common men). we are chiefs; let us kill the chiefs, and take _utu_ for ourselves beforehand." to this rauparaha was at first reluctant to agree, and his objections were well supported by puaha and the other christian natives; but he felt that, in view of te ronga's death, the demand was a reasonable one, and he at length yielded to the powerful appeal of his lieutenant, and delivered the unfortunate colonists over to their fate. at this juncture mr. thompson seemed, for the first time, to be apprehensive of serious consequences attending his conduct, and he implored rauparaha to save their lives. but that chief haughtily answered, "did i not warn you how it would be? a little while ago i wished to talk with you in a friendly manner, and you would not; now you say 'save me.' i will not save you." the whole party then retired a little lower down the hill, and there the massacre commenced. captain wakefield and mr. thompson were killed by te oru,[ ] a son of te ahuta, the first native who fell in the fight, as a retribution for the death of his father. brooks, the interpreter, was struck down by rangihaeata and despatched by the slaves, which would account for the mangled condition in which his body was found by the burial party from port underwood. the rest of the slaughter, according to native accounts, was conducted mainly by rangihaeata. his method of procedure was to glide silently behind the victims while they were standing amongst the crowd of natives and brain them with a single blow of his tomahawk. the peculiar part of the tragedy was that none of the englishmen, except captain wakefield, made the slightest resistance, and even he was checked by mr. howard exclaiming, "for god's sake, sir, do nothing rash!" perhaps their ignorance of the native language prevented them from understanding all that was passing around them until they received the fatal blow. but there was no struggle, no cries, except from the native women, led by puaha's wife, who pleaded with the men to "save some of the _rangatiras_, if only to say they had saved some." no englishman who survived actually saw the massacre, and therefore it is impossible to describe the exact method of its execution; but the colonists to all appearances met their fate with the greatest equanimity. george bampton, who had concealed himself amongst the fern only a few yards from the spot where the tragedy was enacted, in giving evidence at nelson a few days after the event, deposed that "he heard neither cries nor screaming, but merely the sound of beating or chopping, which he supposed at the time to be natives tomahawking the white people." in accordance with rauparaha's express orders, none of the dead bodies were mutilated or stripped, although captain wakefield's watch was taken by rangihaeata and buried with te rongo, while one native furnished himself with a pair of white gloves and another with a pair of silver-mounted pistols. after burying their own dead in the waitohi valley, the two chiefs, with their followers, came down to the mouth of the wairau river, bringing with them their own canoes and the whaleboat which had been taken up by mr. cotterell and his men. in these they went first to robin hood bay, and then to te awaiti, in tory channel, where they remained a few days, finally crossing the strait to mana and otaki, there to await developments. shortly after the skirmishing began, a sydney merchant named ferguson, who had been a passenger in the brig to nelson, and had accompanied her to the wairau under the impression that he would have a pleasant outing, had taken one of the wounded men, gapper, down to the river where the boats had been left that morning, and, with him and the boatman who had been stationed in charge, had paddled down the river to the bar, and reached the brig that afternoon. a number of the men had also gone down the waitohi valley, which was then densely bushed, and by this means had evaded pursuit until they could return to nelson by the overland route. others, again, who had broken away from the main body had made for the sea, so that before mr. tuckett and his two companions had proceeded very far they were joined by eight of the original party, one of whom, john bumforth, was badly wounded in the shoulder. mr. tuckett first proposed that they should divide into two parties, the one to proceed to the bar and the other to the vicinity of port underwood, thinking that by this means the chances of some of them reaching the brig would be increased. but the men stoutly refused to separate, and the chief surveyor then decided to proceed to the corner of cloudy bay nearest the port, where luckily they found one of mr. dougherty's fully equipped whaleboats riding in the bay a few chains off. they hailed the boatmen, and explained that they wished to be taken to the brig, which was anchored some seven or eight miles away; but owing to the heavy swell that was rolling into the bay at the time, and the large number of the party, there was the greatest difficulty in persuading the whalers to comply with the request. even after the danger of embarking had been overcome, the headsman had almost made up his mind not to risk the voyage to the brig, but to land the party at port underwood. but fortune still favoured the fugitives, for at this moment another boat's crew, who had been watching their movements, imagining that they had sighted a whale, came out in pursuit, and the two boats raced for the brig, which was almost reached before the pursuing crew discovered the true position of affairs. up to this point the whalers had not been informed why mr. tuckett and his friends desired to get on board the brig, but they were now told that a _fracas_ had occurred between the europeans and the natives, that the leaders of the party were rauparaha's prisoners; and a promise (that was never fulfilled) was extracted from the boatmen that they would convey the intelligence to the other settlers at the port, and prepare them to act as they might think best under the circumstances. the captain of the brig then sent his boats to search the shore, in the hope that other fugitives might have reached the beach; but no one was seen, and no unusual circumstance was noted except the burning of a large fire at the mouth of the river, which had been lit for some purpose by the natives. the brig then weighed anchor and sailed for wellington, the captain, whose inclination was to enter port underwood, adopting this course at the earnest solicitation of mr. tuckett, who believed that, if assistance was necessary, it could be more easily obtained from the larger centre of population. when the news of what had happened spread through the infant settlement early next morning, the excitement ran wild and high, and the settlers, believing that at the worst captain wakefield and his friends were only prisoners in the hands of the natives, immediately organised a band of volunteers to effect their forcible rescue. their departure was, however, delayed by a gale, which had the effect of making most of the volunteers seasick; and, by the time the storm had abated, wiser counsels prevailed, and it was decided that only a quorum of magistrates and dr. dorset, the surgeon of the settlement, should proceed to the scene, the impression having gained ground that intercession was more likely to prevail with the maoris than the presence of an armed force. the brig left wellington for cloudy bay that night, and it was when she arrived at port underwood that colonel wakefield and mr. tuckett learned for the first time the appalling nature of the tragedy which had been enacted. they also learned that the natives, both resident and visiting, had hurriedly left the wairau, believing that retaliatory measures would speedily be taken against them. altogether about twenty-seven of the arresting party had managed to elude the pursuit of rangihaeata's warriors. after undergoing intense privations, some wandered back to nelson, but most of them went to port underwood, a few suffering from wounds, and all from protracted hunger and exposure. the first to arrive were morgan and morrison, who reached ocean bay with their trousers worn to their knees, and they were shortly followed by others who were in no better plight. their wants and wounds were attended to by mrs. dougherty, who ministered to them with the kindest of care, and it was by these few survivors that the whalers were first apprised of the catastrophe. the rev. mr. ironside had heard vague rumours about impending trouble between the chiefs and the government; but, as he had not seen the arrival of the brig, he paid no heed to them until the following sunday, when, in the midst of a heavy rain-storm, he noticed a maori swiftly paddling his canoe up the bay. knowing that a native would only be out on such a day under exceptional circumstances, mr. ironside sent one of his mission-boys to inquire. the boy did not return, which only increased the anxiety, and later on, when a few particulars did reach the station, they were only sufficient to indicate that a collision had taken place, without any details. that night the missionary and his wife retired to rest a prey to harrowing suspense. next morning the storm had increased to a perfect hurricane, and as it was impossible to launch a boat, they could do nothing but wait. by tuesday the weather had moderated, and a boat's crew of whalers took mr. ironside down to ocean bay, where the two chiefs and their exultant followers had arrived. from them the whole story was gleaned, and by them the tragedy was justified; "for," said te rangihaeata, "they killed my wife, te rongo, and they did not punish the murderer of kuika."[ ] mr. ironside at once asked permission to go and bury the dead, whereupon the fiery rangihaeata ejaculated, "what do you want to go for? better leave them to the wild pigs. but you can go if you like." still the gale was too severe to admit of venturing across the twelve miles of open sea; but so anxious had they all become, that next morning a start was once more made from ngakuta, and at the imminent risk of their lives the brave crew pulled their boat across the stormy bar into the river. on arriving at tua marina, mr. ironside and his party found that all the bodies had been left as rauparaha had directed--unmutilated. the watch of captain wakefield was gone, one of the pistols, which he had evidently attempted to fire, had been laid across his throat in compliance with maori custom, and a piece of "damper," in savage derision, had been placed under his head. the body of brooks, the interpreter, was found to be in the most mangled condition, the others apparently only having received the one final and decisive blow, when they were struck down by the enraged rangihaeata. five bodies were discovered in the bush close to the creek, and were there interred with the benefits of christian burial, while those who were slain on the brow of the hill, thirteen in number, were buried close by with similar rites. this fatiguing work had been almost completed by the devoted missionary and his band of native helpers when colonel wakefield, with the party from the brig, arrived to assist. on an extended search being made by the combined parties, one more body was found at the point where the road turns into the waitohi valley, and it was buried where it lay. probably it was that of isaac smith, who had either sought to escape after being mortally wounded, and had died in the attempt, or had been overtaken in his flight and killed where he was found. mr. patchett was buried in a single grave on the spot where he fell, and tyrrell and northam were interred together close beside him. in recognition of the kindly and humane service rendered by mr. ironside during this critical and anxious period, the nelson settlers presented him with a testimonial in the shape of a handsome edition of the bible, bound in three volumes. the gift was gracefully acknowledged by the reverend gentleman in a letter to mr. domett, dated from wellington on february , . upon the return of the party to port underwood, messrs. spain and mcdonough (the magistrate at wellington) set about collecting, with all possible speed, all available information concerning the disaster from those of both races who had been present, and who had now arrived at the settlement. amongst those whose depositions were taken were two maori boys, who had both been wounded, and were being taken care of by female relatives. their story was a general corroboration of the maori version, and they were both unanimous in declaring that, when the europeans were overtaken on the brow of the hill, puaha, who was one of the first to reach them, offered them his hand and did all in his power to obviate further bloodshed by pointing out that he had counted the slain, and, as both sides had exactly the same number shot, there was no need for further _utu_. in this view rauparaha at first concurred, but he finally gave way before the vehement protestations of rangihaeata, who reminded him in violent tones of his duty to his dead relative, te rongo. he had then allowed his enraged lieutenant to work his wicked will, which puaha and his people, being unarmed, were powerless to prevent. at the conclusion of his inquiry, mr. spain left for wellington, taking the wounded with him; and those of the survivors who had escaped uninjured proceeded back to nelson, some in the boats and some overland. before leaving the port mr. tuckett was authorised by colonel wakefield to act as agent for the settlement until the pleasure of the new zealand company should be known. his journey home was rather an adventurous one, as he had a very narrow escape of being intercepted by the natives when sailing through the french pass. some of his companions who were venturesome enough to call in at tory channel, were detained there for a week by the natives, but were ultimately permitted to take their departure unharmed. the body of mr. maling, the chief constable, had not been found when mr. ironside made his first search upon the scene of the massacre, a fact which created no surprise at the time, for it was thought probable that he had succeeded in making good his escape into the bush. but, as he had not arrived at any of the settlements, the missionary again returned to tua marina for the dual purpose of making an extended search and of protecting the graves already made from desecration by the wild pigs, with which the valley was at that time thickly stocked. he was successful in finding two bodies floating in the stream, being the remains of clanzey and ratcliffe, who had been shot while crossing in the canoe. these were reverently interred on the banks of the creek near where mr. patchett had been laid. the last resting-place of these men bears no mark to distinguish it from the surrounding landscape, but a plain though substantial monument has been raised over the spot where captain wakefield and his companions fell; while a memorial church, built by the wakefield family, stands prominently upon the point of the hill, and solemnly presides over the whole scene. it would be difficult to describe the intense excitement which agitated the whole colony as the tidings of the massacre flew from settlement to settlement; and in the white heat of their anger the settlers were guilty of saying and doing many rash and intemperate things. few of them had made themselves conversant with the whole facts of the case, and fewer still stayed to reason out the natural actions of men under the circumstances. all that they knew, and all that they cared to know, was that their countrymen had been, as a nelson settler forcibly expressed it, "brutally butchered by a parcel of miscreant savages, ten thousand of whose useless lives would have all too cheaply purchased their survival, let the cant of ultra-philanthropists say what it will." but this fierce indignation was not participated in by the europeans alone. flying from the scene of the tragedy, te rauparaha arrived with his retainers at waikanae, cold and wet with the sea spray which had swept over him on the passage across the strait. he immediately assembled the ngati-awa people and told them the tale of the massacre, holding their attention by the graphic nature of his narrative. at first his listeners were unsympathetic, but he appealed to their sympathies by feigning physical distress. bent in body and trembling in voice, he appeared to speak with difficulty, and used a hacking cough with some effect to melt their sternness. but his most telling point was made when, advancing a few steps, he held up his shaking hands and dramatically exclaimed, "why should they seek to fetter me? i am old and weak; i must soon pass away. what could they gain by enslaving me? by fastening irons on these poor old hands? no; that is not what they seek. it is because through my person they hope to dishonour you. if they can enslave me they think they can degrade the whole maori race." this was the dart that struck deep into maori pride, and wounded their sense of honour. instantly the tribe rose responsive to the suggestion, and weapons were gripped, eyes flashed, and the spirit of war surged in every breast. missionary hadfield was present, and saw the sway wielded by the old chief's oratory. he saw, too, how critical was the position, and gladly availed himself of the timely suggestion made by one of the missionary natives to ring the bell for evening prayers, and thus bring back the warriors' thoughts to a more peaceful frame. next morning te rauparaha journeyed to otaki, and there harangued the fighting men of ngati-toa. here there was no need to adopt the arts of the stage. his auditors were his own followers, many of whom had been with him since childhood. they knew him and trusted him, and with them his word was law. he therefore threw off the guise of broken manhood, of fettered limbs, of tottering steps, and stood before them the bold and imperious chief that he was. his words ringing with the timbre of commanding confidence, were direct and to the purpose. "now is the time to strike. you see what the smooth speech of the _pakeha_ is worth; you know now what they mean in their hearts. you know now that tyranny and injustice is all that you can expect at their hands. come then and sweep them from the land which they have sought to bedew with our blood." in these warlike counsels he was ably seconded by te rangihaeata, who, reasoning as a maori would reason, had always strongly held the view that, as the white men would be certain to seek satisfaction for the massacre, their duty was to get what _utu_ they could while the opportunity to do so was theirs. he therefore joined with his chief in urging an immediate march upon wellington, in order by one swift stroke to obliterate the _pakeha_ and his settlements. these sanguinary proposals were not preached to unwilling ears, for it was but natural that the maori should judge the settlers by their leaders, the representatives of the new zealand company, whose bad faith now appeared so audaciously transparent. but there was one chief who was proof against the hysteria of blood which had seized the tribes. side by side with hadfield he stood like a rock above the billows of hate which surged around him, and by his calm and stedfast loyalty broke the fury of the storm. this was wiremu kingi te rangitake, the ngati-awa chief of waitara. his resolute opposition to te rauparaha's plans was an obstacle which that chief could not overcome. he carried his own people with him, while hadfield soothed the ngati-raukawa into neutrality. without ngati-raukawa and ngati-awa, ngati-toa was not equal to a task which with their united forces would have been a simple matter. that the maoris had the power at this time to drive the colonists into the sea, had they chosen to exercise it, has been freely admitted by the settlers themselves,[ ] so that the service which wiremu and the good missionary hadfield rendered to the colony at this juncture can only be estimated at the value of the infant settlement itself. and, with regret be it said, wellington is even now destitute of any monument to which the passing generations might point as a public recognition of the fact that these two men once stood between it and extermination. before te rauparaha was able to extend his projects for avenging his wrongs beyond his own immediate sphere of influence, he was visited by mr. george clarke, the sub-protector of the aborigines, who gave him his most solemn pledge that the government would not attack him without first hearing his side of the question, and begged him to try and keep the natives quiet until the case could be investigated. following close upon mr. clarke came mr. spain, deputed by the magistrates at wellington, and empowered to speak as one in authority.[ ] he strove to assure the natives that they were mistaken if they imagined that the europeans would wage war against them indiscriminately by way of retaliation for the death of captain wakefield and his comrades. the question of punishment rested solely with the governor, and, until he could decide who should be punished and what the punishment should be, there would be no act of aggression against the natives. "your words are very good, but who can tell what will be the words of the governor?" was the comment of one of the chiefs upon these assurances. to this spain could only reply by pointing to their past intercourse, and asking if during their long acquaintance they had ever known him to deceive them. fortunately, his record stood him in good stead, and the chief agreed that he for one would help to protect the europeans. while this discussion was proceeding, rauparaha had joined the assembly, and at this point he rose and delivered what mr. spain considered "a most powerful speech." he traversed anew the events which had led up to the _fracas_, and vehemently asked, "is this the justice which the queen of england promised to the maori? you are not satisfied with having taken all our land from us, but you send a queen's ship headed by a queen's officer to fire upon us and kill us." spain endeavoured to expound to the angry chief the niceties of british law, under which a warrant to arrest did not necessarily imply established guilt; had he surrendered he would probably have been admitted to bail until the day of the trial, and, so far from the queen and the governor being to blame for the conduct of the magistrate, they had never heard of the warrant. on spain expressing his abhorrence of the killing of the captives, te rauparaha admitted the error of the step, which he palliated as due to their own custom and rangihaeata's grief at the death of his wife. he then proceeded to question spain with an acumen which astonished the lawyer, and forced him to form a very high estimate of the chief's intellectual capacity; for his examination was as keen "as if i had undergone that ordeal in westminster hall at the hands of a member of the english bar." what te rauparaha wished to guard against was treachery. he wanted everything open to the light of day, and the conference ended by his saying to spain, "if the governor should decide upon sending soldiers to take me and rangihaeata, let us know when they arrive, because you need not take the trouble to send up here for us. if you only send word i will come down to port nicholson with a thousand maoris and fight with the _pakehas_. if they beat us, they shall have new zealand, and we will be their slaves, but if we beat them, they must stand clear." mr. spain next proceeded to otaki. there he was told that the natives intended to stand loyally by their chiefs, and that any attempt to seize them would lead to immediate reprisals. following closely upon mr. spain's departure, mr. jerningham wakefield reached otaki. he came from the north, and, as he drifted down the whanganui river, he received the first tidings of the death of his uncle. it was difficult at first to give credence to the nebulous rumours which reached him; but the constant reiteration of the same story about a fight with the _pakehas_ and the death of "wideawake" gradually compelled attention, and ultimately received confirmation at the white settlement then known as petre.[ ] here wakefield was the recipient of a message from te rauparaha, demanding to know whether he was for peace or for war, and preferring a request that "tiraweke" would come to otaki to _korero_ with him. in the meantime he had sent his canoes to manawatu, and was preparing for his retreat into the interior should he be attacked. wakefield left petre, and at the end of the first day he was met at rangitikei by the old ngati-raukawa chief te ahu karamu,[ ] who had gone thither with an armed party to conduct his friend safely through the disturbed district. on reaching otaki, wakefield went to rangi-ura _pa_, the principal settlement, where the maoris placed only one interpretation upon his coming--vengeance upon te rauparaha for the death of his uncle. for two days wakefield rested at otaki, but saw nothing of the chiefs. rangihaeata was reported to be some distance in the interior, building a strong _pa_, where it was understood that the chiefs had determined to make a stand should the authorities seek to pursue them. te rauparaha was at the pakakutu _pa_ at the mouth of the river, endeavouring to break down the influence of mr. hadfield and wiremu kingi. his efforts to consolidate his forces were various, as suited the circumstances. he sought to ingratiate himself into the good opinion of the missionary natives by appearing to become zealous in religious observances; on the feeling of others he played by a recital of his wrongs; and towards the european residents of otaki he assumed an attitude of unconcealed hostility, and ordered their removal from the district. this step he deemed to be necessary, in order that he might be free to act unhampered by spies in the supposed impending campaign against the queen's troops, and it was this mandate which brought the chief and wakefield face to face. as a result of rauparaha's prohibition, a _pakeha_ settler named white, who had been living under the patronage of te ahu karamu, found himself suddenly stopped at the otaki river while in the act of driving some thirty head of cattle on to the land upon which his patron chief had invited him to settle. this high-handed action naturally aroused the anger of the ngati-raukawa chiefs, who had hitherto assumed that they were masters of the territory which they had chosen to "sit upon" when the division of the conquered lands was made. te ahu was especially angered at what he regarded as an uncalled-for encroachment upon his prerogative as a chief. he therefore announced his determination to proceed to the pakakutu _pa_ and demand from te rauparaha a complete renunciation of his views. wakefield was invited to be present, and to his facile pen we are indebted for a graphic account of what followed. the _korero_ did not commence immediately upon the arrival of te ahu's party at the _pa_, and wakefield employed the interval in the kindly office of helping to dress the wounded leg of a maori, whom he has described as one "particularly gentle and dignified in his manners." while thus engaged, te rauparaha approached him, and, with evident signs of apprehension as to the propriety of his doing so, offered a friendly salutation. wakefield coldly declined to grasp the hand which he naturally believed was imbrued in his uncle's blood; and rauparaha, immediately acknowledging the delicacy of his position, muttered "it is good," and returned to his seat. the speech-making commenced by his entering upon a lengthy narrative of himself and his conquests, for the evident purpose of riveting in the minds of his hearers the fact that he was the brain and the heart of the tribe. his story was eloquently told, for not the least of his great natural endowments was the precious gift of the silver tongue. the tale of conquest ended, he was proceeding to refer to the incidents of the wairau, when wakefield rose and checked him. naturally the latter was sensitive upon the point of prejudging so dreadful a tragedy, by listening to an _ex-parte_ statement of its facts, when he was fully persuaded that at no distant date he would hear the truth disclosed before an impartial tribunal. he therefore told te rauparaha that he would not remain if he proposed to discuss the affair of the wairau, but begged him to confine his speech to a justification of his extreme and arbitrary desire to drive the europeans away from otaki. te rauparaha acknowledged the reasonableness of this request, but so anxious was he to excuse himself in the eyes of wakefield, that his oration had not proceeded far before he reverted to the subject of the massacre. thereupon wakefield rose, and, walking to the stile at the outer fence, was in the act of stepping over it to proceed home, when a chorus of shouts called him back, and a promise was given that there would be no further reference to the wairau. te rauparaha then earnestly addressed himself to the status of the _pakehas_ at otaki, claiming the land as his alone. he admitted the validity of the sales of the manawatu, whanganui, and taranaki, but not those of otaki or ohau, and insisted that the white people, whalers included,[ ] must remove to those districts which the company had fairly bought. he upbraided the queen for sending her constables to tie his hands. "who is she," he asked, "that she should send her books and her constables after me? what have i to do with her? she may be queen over the white people; i am the king of the maori! if she chooses to have war, let her send me word, and i will stand up against her soldiers. but i must have room; i must have no white people so near."[ ] challenged as to the inconsistency of these views with his action in signing the treaty of waitangi, he wheeled sharply round and exclaimed, "yes; what of that? they gave me a blanket for it. i am still a chief, just the same. i am rauparaha. give me another blanket tomorrow and i will sign it again. what is there in writing?" the attitude of absolute authority assumed by the chief distinctly alarmed wakefield, who saw in it the elements of unlimited trouble for the new zealand company. for if te rauparaha's claim to exclusive jurisdiction over the land was well founded, then verily many of their purchases had been brought to the brink of repudiation. turning hastily to te ahu and several of the chiefs around him, he sought enlightenment on the point, reminding them that they had frequently laid claim to large possessions in the neighbourhood, but had never acknowledged te rauparaha as having the least right or interest in them. then te ahu proceeded in a tone of apology and regret to elucidate one of the many intricate phases of maori land tenure which were now beginning to prove so embarrassing to the company. he explained that when the tribe burned their houses at maungatautari and came down to assist te rauparaha in his conquest, they had selected otaki out of the conquered lands to be their future home. in times of peace rauparaha would have made no claim to the land, nor would his claim have been acknowledged if he had. in proof of this, he quoted the scorn with which rangihaeata's assumptions over the manawatu had been rejected by ngati-raukawa; but now that the war clouds were in the air, the _riri_, or anger, had completely altered the whole aspect of affairs; the land had reverted to him who had conquered it, and ngati-raukawa had no land which they could call their own. "and then he rose," says wakefield, "and endeavoured to persuade rauparaha to change his determination. he reminded him of the 'war parties which he had brought to him on his back to assist him against his enemies, through dangers and troubles more than he could count.' he related how 'he had burned the villages of the tribe at taupo to make them come with him to be by the side of rauparaha on the sea-coast.' he counted how many times he had adhered to him 'in his feuds with ngati-awa,' and described 'how much of the blood of ngati-raukawa had been spilt for his name.' te ahu had now warmed with his subject, and was running up and down, bounding and yelling at each turn, and beginning to foam at the mouth, as the natives do when they seek to speak impressively. 'let the cows go!' he cried. 'let them go to my place!' "rauparaha seemed to consider that te ahu's eloquence was becoming too powerful, and he jumped up too. they both continued to run up and down in short parallel lines, yelling at each other, with staring eyes and excited features, grimacing and foaming, shaking their hands and smacking their thighs. as they both spoke together, it became difficult to hear what they said, but i caught a sentence here and there, which gave me the sense of the argument. 'no!' cried rauparaha; 'no cows; i will not have them.' 'let them go!' yelled te ahu. 'yield me my cows and my white man--the cows will not kill you.' 'no cows, no white men! i am king! never mind your war parties! no cows!' answered te rauparaha. 'the cows cannot take you,' persisted te ahu; 'when the soldiers come we will fight for you, but let my cows go.' 'no, no, no, indeed,' firmly replied the chief, and sat down. "te ahu remained standing. he took breath for a minute, then drew himself up to his full height, and addressed his own people in a solemn kind of recitative. 'ngati-raukawa,' he sang, 'arise! arise, my sons and daughters, my elder brothers and my younger brothers, my sisters, my grand-children, arise! stand up, the families of ngati-raukawa! to taupo! to taupo! to maungatautari! to our old homes which we burned and deserted; arise and let us go! carry the little children on your backs, as i carried you when i came to fight for this old man who has called us to fight for him and given us land to sit upon, but grudges us white people to be our friends and to give us trade. we have no white men or ships at maungatautari, but the land is our own there. we need not beg to have a white man or cows yielded to us there if they should want to come. to maungatautari. arise, my sons, make up your packs, take your guns and your blankets, and let us go! it is enough, i have spoken.' as he sat down, a mournful silence prevailed. an important migration had been proposed by the chief, which no doubt would be agreed to by the greater part of the otaki, ohau, and manawatu natives, on whom was rauparaha's chief dependence for his defence. "i noticed that he winced when he first heard the purport of te ahu's song; but, while te ahu continued, his countenance gradually resumed its confidence. much as i abhorred his character, i could not but yield my unbounded admiration to the imperious manner in which he overthrew the whole effect of te ahu's beautiful summons to his tribe. instead of his usual doubting and suspicious manner, his every gesture became that of a noble chief. he rose with all the majesty of a monarch, and he spoke in the clearest and firmest tones, so that the change from his customary shuffling, cautious and snarling diction was of itself sufficient to command the earnest attention of his audience. 'go,' said he, 'go, all of you!--go, ngati-raukawa, to maungatautari! take your children on your backs and go, and leave my land without men. when you are gone, i will stay and fight the soldiers with my own hands. i do not beg you to stop. rauparaha is not afraid! i began to fight when i was as high as my hip. all my days have been spent in fighting, and by fighting i have got my name. since i seized by war all this land, from taranaki to port nicholson, and from blind bay to cloudy bay beyond the water, i have been spoken of as a king. i am the king of all this land. i have lived a king, and i will die a king, with my _mere_ in my hand. go; i am no beggar; rauparaha will fight the soldiers of the queen when they come, with his own hands and his own name. go to maungatautari.' then, suddenly changing his strain, he looked on the assemblage of chiefs, bending down towards them with a paternal smile, and softening his voice to kindness and emotion. 'but what do i say?' said he; 'what is my talk about? you are children! it is not for you to talk. you talk of going here and doing that. can one of you talk when i am here? no! i shall rise and speak for you all, and you shall sit dumb, for you are all my children, and rauparaha is your head chief and patriarch.'" this fearless rejection of ngati-raukawa assistance, culminating in an arrogant assumption of absolute authority over their movements, completely won him his point, and one of the highest chiefs said to wakefield, "it is true, tiraweke! he is our father and our _ariki_. rauparaha is the king of the maori, like your queen over the white people." the others, full of conscious dignity in being followers of such a leader, acknowledged his authority by bowing a silent assent. rauparaha remained inflexible in refusing to permit the cattle to enter the district, but, in deference to the urgent persuasions of the chiefs, he subsequently relaxed his prohibition against the white men already settled in the district, but stoutly refused to sanction the coming of any more. but this effort of te rauparaha to consolidate his forces was in no sense the full range of his preparations. to augment his fighting strength was as much his policy as to unite those who already acknowledged allegiance to him. and this he sought to do in a quarter which, in view of past events, he would have been least expected to approach, and where his advances, once made, would have been least likely to touch a responsive chord. his scheme involved no less a delicate task than salving the wounds of the ngai-tahu tribe, and negotiating a friendly alliance with the men whose _mana_ he had so rudely trampled in the dust at kaikoura and kaiapoi. to this end he collected a number of the most influential prisoners whom he had taken at the latter place, and, bidding them go back to their tribe, charged them to use their utmost endeavour to promote a good feeling towards him amongst their people. this unexpected act of clemency--or apparent clemency--which restored to them their much esteemed chief momo, their great warrior iwikau, and others equally noted in their history, went far to soothe the injured pride of ngai-tahu, who, after much serious debate, decided to forget the past, make peace, and accede to the new proposals. as an earnest of their acceptance of rauparaha's terms, taiaroa at once paid a visit to kapiti, and, as he professed to be aggrieved at the manner in which some land transactions had been conducted in the south, there is little doubt that, had an attack upon wellington been contemplated, he and his people would have combined with their former enemies to effect the annihilation of the colonists.[ ] a fearful uncertainty thus continued to agitate the breasts of the settlers; and when h.m. ship of war, _north star_ arrived in wellington on st august, as the result of a memorial sent by the settlers to sir george gipps, governor of new south wales, she was received with a salute of guns and a display of bunting, which indicated a belief that the day of retribution was at hand. it was not, however, for four days that her commander, sir everard home, was able to enter into communication with major richmond, the principal officer of the government in cook strait. by him he was assured that "he had received various reports of meditated attacks upon wellington by the natives under te rauparaha; that the chief was at a _pa_ not more than fourteen miles away, with between five hundred and a thousand of his fighting men; that taiaroa, the chief from the middle island, had joined te rauparaha, and, having been an ancient enemy to him, had made peace; that the _pa_ at porirua was fortified, and every preparation made for an attack on the town of wellington." to this sir everard, having regard to his explicit instructions not to intervene unless the natives and the whites were at actual war, replied that, in his judgment, the circumstances did not warrant his interference, but that he would keep his ship in the harbour as a salutary check upon maori aggression. in the meantime he penned the following letter to te rauparaha:-- "friend rauparaha,--it has come to my knowledge that you are collecting the tribes round you, because you expect that i am going to attack you. those who told you so said that which is not true. it was to keep the peace and not to make war that i came here. you know that where many men are met together, and continue without employment, they will find something evil to do. they had best go home." sir everard home, having satisfied himself that no immediate crisis was likely to arise at wellington, unless it was precipitated by the settlers themselves, was constrained by reports of seething discontent at nelson to visit the settlements in blind bay. but, before proceeding thither, he decided to call in at the island of mana, and there personally discuss the situation with te rauparaha himself. accompanied by major richmond and captain best, he left wellington harbour on the morning of october th, and anchored the _north star_ under the lee of mana that afternoon. "as soon as the ship anchored," says sir everard in his official report, "i landed, attended by major richmond and captain best, who commanded the detachment on board the _north star_. we first went to the whaling station, or great _pa_, where we found mr. chetham (clerk of the court), who had been sent to join us. we also soon after met mr. clarke. he informed us that te rauparaha had left that morning at daylight for waikanae, which must have been a voluntary movement, as no person knew our intention till the strait was entered. we immediately went round to the _pa_ where the tribe was established. here we found no one on the beach to receive us, and, having landed, walked to the huts, where we found a few persons sitting together. rangihaeata, they said, had fled to the bush, te rauparaha was at waikanae, and, finding that nothing could be done, we returned on board." during this visit to porirua, the attention of the official party had been directed to the presence of the new zealand company's boat, which had been brought by the natives from the wairau, after the massacre, and hauled up on the shore of taupo bay amongst some twelve or fifteen canoes; and this fact was made a subject of discussion next day when the frigate reached kapiti. landing at waikanae, where the interview was to take place, sir everard home says:-- "we were received by the rev. mr. hadfield, a missionary, a gentleman of high character and great intelligence, who, living in the _pa_ amongst the natives, knows every movement, for none could take place without his knowledge. he at once declared all the reports (of an intended attack upon wellington) to be without foundation. having walked to his house, which is within the _pa_, we proceeded to his school-yard, and the chiefs, te rauparaha, and rere, chief of the tribe inhabiting the _pa_ of waikanae, came, accompanied by about fifty men. i then stated to the chief all that was reported of him, and asked him what he had to say to contradict it. he replied that, far from wishing to continue the quarrel with the europeans, which had been commenced by them, and not by him, his whole time was occupied in travelling up and down the coast, endeavouring to allay the irritation of the natives and to prevent any ill consequences arising from the provoking language and threats with which they were continually annoyed by the europeans travelling backwards and forwards. that, for himself, he believed them to be lies invented by the white men, having been assured by the police magistrate that no steps would be taken until the arrival of the new governor, or the pleasure of the queen was known. he also declared that they all stood in fear of the white men, and asked why i had come if it was not to fight with and destroy them, for they had been told that was my intention. "i told them that the queen's ships went to all parts of the world, and that my object was to preserve peace rather than to make war, and he was advised to believe no reports which he might hear, but to inquire into the truth of them of major richmond, through mr. clarke or mr. hadfield." the conference then dispersed, but at a later hour te rauparaha was sent for to mr. hadfield's house, and asked if he would send a letter to the principal chief at porirua, requesting him to deliver up the company's boat to sir everard home. his reply was that he had but little influence amongst the porirua people, but that, as he had always been against the retention of the boat, he would assert what authority he had to secure its return. he then became curious to know if the surrender of the boat would end the quarrel; but major richmond discreetly declined to commit himself on the point, and appealed to te rauparaha's position as a chief to see that justice was done. te rauparaha then penned the following letter, which he addressed to the porirua chiefs:-- "go thou, my book, to puaha, hohepa, and watarauehe. give that boat to the chief of the ship; give it to the chief for nothing. these are the words of te rauparaha. your avarice in keeping back the boat from us, from me, mr. hadfield, and mr. ironside, was great. this is not an angry visit, it is to ask peaceably for the boat. there are only mr. clarke, mr. richmond, and the chief of the ship: they three who are going peaceably back to you that you may give up the boat. "this is my book, "te rauparaha." armed with this authority sir everard home returned to porirua, where, after lying at anchor all day on sunday, he landed on the following day, and made a formal demand for the return of the boat. at first, te rangihaeata was inclined to resist the request, but, on receipt of a private message from te rauparaha that a refusal might mean trouble, he yielded the point, and the boat was ultimately handed over with "the greatest good-humour." during the interview at waikanae, te rauparaha had given the most profuse assurances that he, relying upon the promise that there would be no reprisals until the facts surrounding the massacre had been investigated, was employing his best endeavours to pacify his people. but his efforts, he said, were often nullified by the disturbing rumours which reached them of armings and drillings[ ] by the settlers at wellington, which seemed to portend war rather than peace. but the seeds of irritation and mistrust had already been sown much further afield than waikanae and otaki; for the natives, on leaving the wairau, had taken with them, as well as the boat, the handcuffs and leg-irons which had been foolishly brought down by mr. maling to ensure rauparaha's capture. these were sent from one _pa_ to another, and wherever they were exhibited, the enemies of the _pakeha_ were not slow to insinuate that, when the english became numerous in the land, they would provide leg-irons for the whole of the natives. the sight of these manacles, and the dark hints with which they were everywhere accompanied, created bitterness and resentment against settlers, with whom the maoris had always lived in perfect harmony; so that before many weeks had passed away it only required a single spark of indiscretion to set the whole colony in a blaze of war. at no period of her history has new zealand stood so much in need of firm, discreet and conciliatory guidance as in this critical juncture;[ ] and fortunately the hand of authority was strong enough to prevent the spark being kindled. acting-governor shortland, taking a bold but unpopular initiative, on july , , issued the following proclamation:-- "whereas it is essential to the well-being of this colony that confidence and good feeling should continue to exist between the two races of its inhabitants, and that the native owners of the soil should have no reason to doubt the good faith of her majesty's solemn assurance that their territorial rights should be recognised and respected. now, therefore, i, the officer administering the government, do hereby publicly warn all persons claiming land in this colony, in all cases where the claim is denied or disputed by the original native owners, from exercising rights of ownership thereon, or otherwise prejudicing the question of title to the same, until the question of ownership shall have been heard and determined by one of her majesty's commissioners appointed to investigate claims to land in new zealand." the wisdom of thus holding the hands of the settlers until the title to their lands had been settled by a constitutional course was not at first apparent to the pioneers, who treated the proclamation with scant respect, and roundly abused it and its author in the public press. "if," said one writer, "it had been the desire of its framer to hound a troop of excited savages upon a peaceable and scattered population, to destroy the remains of friendly feeling existing between the two races, to imbrue in blood the hands of both, and lead to the extermination of one or the other, such a proclamation might have served its purpose." this style of exaggerated invective will serve to show the unreasoning pitch to which even the better class of colonists had allowed themselves to be worked by the news of the catastrophe. nor were they content with merely upbraiding the authorities in the press and at public meetings; deputations waited upon the acting-governor at auckland, urging him to take immediate steps to avenge the death of captain wakefield. the nelson deputation consisted of dr. monro and mr. a. domett, and the essence of their petition was contained in the following paragraph:-- "we have no hesitation in stating that it is the general opinion of the settlers at nelson that our countrymen who were killed at wairau plain lost their lives in endeavouring to discharge their duties as magistrates and british subjects, obedient to british law, and that the persons by whom they were killed are murderers in the eyes of common sense and justice." they therefore hoped that impartial justice would be done, and that the penalties of the law would certainly overtake those whom its verdicts pronounced to be guilty. but to this and all other petitions of a similar tone mr. shortland staunchly refused to accede. in his reply to dr. monro and mr. domett he clearly set forth the error under which the settlers were labouring, when they ascribed the disaster to the performance of duty on the part of the magistrates, and pointed out that it might be more fairly attributed to an excess of duty on the part of those officials, in attempting to annex land which had never been legally purchased. after dwelling upon the criminality of those who were responsible for the final conflict, he proceeded:-- "but whatever may be the crime, and whoever may be the criminals, it is but too clear that the event we must all deplore has arisen from several parties of surveyors, without the concurrence of the local government, proceeding to take possession of and to survey a tract of land in opposition to the original native owners, who had uniformly denied its sale. his excellency therefore deems it proper to inform you that the new zealand company has not selected any block of land in the valley of the wairau, nor has the local government yet received any intimation that it is the intention of the company to select a block in that district." to say that the englishmen were trespassers is the mildest way in which the case against them can be stated, especially in view of the forceful opinion expressed by mr. swainson, the attorney-general, who described their conduct as "illegal in its inception and in every step of its execution, unjustifiable in the magistrate and four constables, and criminal in the last degree on the part of the attacking party." writing from port nicholson ten days after the massacre, mr. spain confirmed mr. swainson's condemnation of their conduct, which he declared to be "an attempt to set british law at defiance and to obtain, by force, possession of a tract of land, the title of which was disputed, and then under the consideration of a commissioner specially appointed to investigate and report upon it." from the information he had been able to collect, mr. spain arrived at the conclusion that at the commencement of the affair the natives exhibited the greatest forbearance, and the utmost repugnance to fight with the europeans. his views were cordially endorsed by mr. clarke, the protector of the aborigines, who reported to the acting-governor that he was "satisfied that such an unhappy affair as that of the wairau could never have occurred had not the natives been urged to it by extreme provocation." these emphatic opinions from men who were not only capable of arriving at a judicial conclusion, but were impartial in the sense that they were not concerned in the catastrophe, together with the decision of the attorney-general that no act of felony had been committed by the natives in burning the huts, fortified his excellency in ignoring the violent clamour of the settlers for revenge. they induced him even to go further, and prohibit the military displays which they were beginning to organise amongst themselves under the plea that they were in imminent danger of being attacked by the natives. this prohibition was to their excited minds the crowning injustice of all; and in october, when h.m.s. _north star_ arrived at port nicholson, the wellington and nelson settlements were practically in a state of open rebellion. when sir everard home was applied to by the colonists to execute a warrant against rauparaha and rangihaeata for murder, he was compelled to "decline the honour," and admit candidly that he did not consider a force so necessary to put a check upon the natives as to keep in subjection the irate settlers themselves. the settlers further memorialised sir eardley wilmot, governor of tasmania, for assistance, and he immediately sent a battleship to their aid. but he took the precaution to warn captain nicholson not to land his troops unless the natives and europeans were in actual conflict; and this not being the case when the ship arrived, she soon after took her departure. in their extremity the settlers then turned to a french frigate which was lying in new zealand waters; but major richmond, on hearing of the proposal to call upon her captain for aid, indignantly vetoed it as being "a stain upon british arms." the social and political atmosphere was still in this condition of ferment when, towards the close of the year, captain fitzroy, the newly appointed governor, arrived. it was not, however, until february that he was able to give his undivided attention to the adjudication of matters connected with the massacre; but he then spared no pains to make himself master of all the facts upon which a decision was to be based. he first studied the merits of the european case, and then journeyed to waikanae, where he landed on february , , with his suite, consisting of sir everard home, mr. spain, the officers of the _north star_, major richmond and mr. symonds, the wellington magistrates, and mr. george clarke, the sub-protector of the aborigines. there he met rauparaha and rangihaeata with upwards of four hundred of their tribe, congregated for the _korero_ in an enclosure in the centre of the _pa_, the governor being provided with a chair, rauparaha sitting by his side. his excellency, addressing the assembled natives through mr. clarke, said:-- "i have heard from the english all that happened at the wairau, and it has grieved my heart exceedingly. i now ask you to tell me your story so that i may compare the two and judge fairly. when i have heard your account of that dark day, i will reflect and then tell you what i shall do. the bad news i have just heard about killing the english after they had ceased fighting, and had trusted to your honour, has made my heart very dark, has filled my mind with gloom. tell me your story that i may compare it with the english, and know the whole truth. when i first heard of the death of my friends at the wairau, i was very angry and thought of hastening here with many ships of war, with many soldiers, and several fire-moved ships (steamers). had i done so your warriors would have been killed, your canoes would have been all taken and burnt, your houses and your _pas_ would have all been destroyed, for i would have brought with me from sydney an irresistible force. but these were hasty, unchristian thoughts: they soon passed away. i considered the whole case. i considered the english were very much to blame even by their own account, and i saw how much you had been provoked. then i determined to put away my anger and come to you peaceably. let me hear your story." rauparaha then arose, and after being exhorted by several of his tribe to speak out that all might hear, he began in slow and measured tones to narrate their land troubles with the company in the wellington settlement, and then he passed on to the wairau. this land, he declared, was taken away by thompson and captain wakefield, and he described the visit of rangihaeata and himself to nelson to protest against its occupancy; nor did he omit to mention the threats then used towards them by captain wakefield. then he told how they had gone over and stopped the survey, and brought messrs. cotterell and barnicoat down to the bar, and how they had afterwards met mr. tuckett, and likewise refused him permission to remain. [illustration: taupo pa, porirua. where te rauparaha was captured.] "after mr. tuckett had gone to nelson," said rauparaha, "we continued our planting, till one morning we saw the _victoria_ (the government brig). then were our hearts relieved, for we thought mr. spain and mr. clarke had come to settle the question of our lands. being scattered about on the different places on the river, we took no further notice, expecting a messenger to arrive from mr. spain; but a messenger came up to say that it was an army of english, and that they were busily engaged in cleaning their arms and fixing the flints of their guns. they met puaha, and detained him prisoner. they said, 'where are rauparaha and rangihaeata?' puaha said, 'up the river.' after puaha and rangihaeata arrived, we consulted as to what we should do. i proposed going into the bush, but they said 'no, let us remain where we are: what have we done that we should be thus beset?' the europeans slept some distance from us, and, after they had breakfasted, came on towards us in two boats. we remained on the same spot without food. we were much alarmed. early in the morning we were on the look-out, and one of the scouts, who caught sight of them coming round a point, called out, 'here they come! here they come!' our women had kindled a fire and cooked a few potatoes that we had remaining, and we were hastily eating them when they came in sight. cotterell called out, 'where is puaha?' puaha answered, 'here i am, come here to me.' they said again, 'where is puaha?' puaha again saluted them. cotterell then said, 'where is a canoe for us to cross?' thompson, wakefield, and some other gentlemen crossed over with a constable to take me, but the greater number stopped on the other side of the creek. thompson said, 'where is rauparaha?' i answered, 'here.' he said, 'come, you must come with me.' i replied, 'what for?' he answered, 'to talk about the houses you have burnt down.' i said, 'what house have i burned down? was it a tent belonging to you that you make so much ado about? you know it was not; it was nothing but a hut of rushes. the materials were cut from my own ground; therefore i will not go on board, neither will i be bound. if you are angry about the land, let us talk it quietly over. i care not if we talk till night and all day to-morrow; and when we have finished, i will settle the question about the land!' mr. thompson said, 'will you not go?' i said 'no,' and rangihaeata, who had been called for, and who had been speaking, said so too. mr. thompson then called for the handcuffs and held up the warrant, saying, 'see, this is the queen's book, this is the queen to make a tie, rauparaha.' i said, 'i will not listen either to you or your book.' he was in a great passion; his eyes rolled about and he stamped his feet. i said i would rather be killed than submit to be bound. he then called for the constable, who began opening the handcuffs and advancing towards me. mr. thompson laid hold of my hand. i pushed him away, saying, 'what are you doing that for?' mr. thompson then called out 'fire!' the europeans began to cross over the creek, and as they were crossing they fired one gun. the women and children were sitting round the fire. we called out, 'we shall be shot,' after this one gun, they fired a volley, and one of us was killed, then another, and three were wounded. we were then closing fast; the _pakehas_' guns were levelled at us. i and puaha cried out, 'friends, stand up and shoot some of them in payment.' we were frightened because some of them were very close to us. we then fired; three of the europeans fell. they fired again and killed rongo, the wife of rangihaeata. we then bent all our energy to the fight, and the europeans began to fly. they all ran away, firing as they retreated; the gentlemen ran too. we pursued them and killed them as we overtook them. captain wakefield and mr. thompson were brought to me by the slaves, who caught them. rangihaeata came running to me, crying out, 'what are you doing, i say?' upon which some heathen slaves killed them at the instigation of rangihaeata; neither puaha nor the christian natives being then present. there was no time elapsed between the fight and the slaughter of the prisoners. when the prisoners were killed, the rest of the people were still engaged in the pursuit, and before they returned they were all dead. i forgot to say that during the pursuit, when we arrived at the top of the hill, mr. cotterell held up a flag and said, 'that is enough, stop fighting!' mr. thompson said to me, 'rauparaha, spare my life.' i answered, 'a little while ago, i wished to talk to you in a friendly manner, and you would not; now you say, 'save me,' i will not save you. it is not our custom to save the chiefs of our enemies. we do not consider our victory complete unless we kill the chiefs of our opponents. our passions were much roused, and we could not help killing the chiefs." at the conclusion of rauparaha's address, captain fitzroy desired time to reflect upon what he had just heard, and, at the expiration of half-an-hour, he announced his decision as follows:-- "now i have heard both sides, i have reflected on both accounts, and i am prepared to give my judgment. in the first place, the english were wrong; they had no right to build houses upon lands to which they had not established their claim--upon land the sale of which you disputed; on which mr. spain had not decided. they were wrong in trying to apprehend you, who had committed no crime. they were wrong in marking and measuring your land in opposition to your repeated refusal to allow them to do so until the commissioner had decided on their claim. had you been englishmen, you would have known that it was wrong to resist a magistrate under any circumstances, but not understanding english law, the case is different. had this been all, had a struggle caused loss of life in the fight--wrong and bad as it would have been to fight in the sight of god--i could not have blamed you so much as the english. the very bad part of the wairau affair--that part where you were very wrong--was the killing of the men who had surrendered, who trusted to your honour as chiefs. englishmen never kill prisoners; englishmen never kill men who have surrendered. it is the shocking death of these unfortunate men that has filled my mind with gloom, that has made my heart so dark, that has filled me with sorrow; but i know how difficult it is to restrain angry men when their passions are aroused. i know you repent of your conduct, and are now sorry that those men were killed. as the english were very greatly to blame, as they brought on and began the fight, and as you were hurried into crime by their misconduct, i will not avenge their death."[ ] in arriving at this determination, captain fitzroy may have been actuated to some extent by considerations of expediency; for, had he decided in any other way, the reprisals of the english would undoubtedly have created a war with the natives, which the government was not in a position at that juncture to carry to a successful issue. therefore, to have provoked hostilities with rauparaha would have meant the obliteration of all the settlements before the necessary reinforcements could have arrived. at the same time, there was a large measure of justice in the course he chose to adopt, which, in the calmer judgment of to-day, must receive the endorsement of all impartial men, as it did that of lord stanley, the secretary of state for the colonies, immediately the governor's decision was known to the home authorities. in his despatches on the subject, lord stanley made it clear that, in his opinion, mr. thompson and captain wakefield had needlessly violated the rules of english law, the maxims of prudence, and the principles of justice; and having thus provoked an indefensible quarrel with a barbarous tribe, they could not reasonably complain at the barbarities practised in the subsequent conflict. he was therefore satisfied that, in declining to make the wairau massacre a subject for criminal proceedings, the governor had taken a wise, though undoubtedly bold, decision. as might have been expected, the action of captain fitzroy in refusing to arrest the two chiefs created a tempest of ill-will against him amongst the settlers, but, on the other hand, the maoris were overjoyed at the prospect of once more possessing the friendship of the _pakeha_, and instantly resumed a sociable demeanour towards the colonists. this feeling, upon the advent of captain grey as governor, was gradually reciprocated by the europeans, who in time came to recognise the folly of their fears, and the absurdity of their hostile attitude. in this way, the startling nature of the catastrophe, which had paralysed the efforts of the new zealand company and thrown a pall over the settlement of the whole colony, began to lose its deadly effect, and the splendid scheme of setting a new gem in the british crown was rescued from the disaster which threatened it. [ ] on the th june, captain wakefield wrote to his brother from nelson: "the magistrates have granted a warrant, and thompson, accompanied by myself, england, and a lot of the constables, are off immediately in the government brig to execute it. we shall muster about sixty, so i think we will overcome these travelling bullies." [ ] as told to the author by the late mr. barnicoat. [ ] saturday, june , . [ ] john brooks had been engaged as a sawyer at cloudy bay. he was thoroughly acquainted with the native language and habits, having been eight years resident amongst the waikato tribes. [ ] rawiri kingi puaha was born at kawhia, and belonged to one of the best of the ngati-toa families. he migrated southward with te rauparaha, and was married to one of te pehi's daughters. he died at his own village, takapuahia, porirua harbour, on september , . he was a man widely respected by the colonists, and to the day of his death he "maintained a high character as a consistent and conscientious christian." [ ] "the conduct of mr. thompson has been unquestionably the means of bringing about the fatal conflict in which he himself lost his life. there is only one way of accounting for the part he has acted in that affair; as far as he is concerned, no more blame can be attached to him than to any other lunatic, for such he was to all intents and purposes, and such he was well known to be, even to mr. shortland" (_martin's letters_). [ ] te rongo was not the _daughter_ of te rauparaha, as that word is generally understood by europeans, but a much more distant relative. she was the widow of te whaiti, a nephew of rauparaha and a first cousin of rangihaeata, who married her because she was the widow of his near relative. the story that she was shot while standing in front of rangihaeata to protect him is pure romance. she was killed by a stray bullet while hiding in the swamp at the rear of the maori camp. [ ] "yesterday we passed (near maraekowhai) the grave of te oru, the chief who killed captain wakefield at the wairau" (_crawford's "travels in new zealand"_). [ ] this referred to an incident which occurred in . a degenerate whaler named dick cook had cruelly murdered a native woman, rangiawha kuika, who was the wife of an englishman named wynen. the natives wished to deal with him in their own summary way, but the rev. mr. ironside persuaded them to send him to wellington to be tried according to the british forms of justice. he was charged with the crime at the supreme court, but was acquitted, the evidence being mainly circumstantial, his own wife (also a native woman), who saw him do the deed, not being allowed to give testimony against him. this was a delicate point which the natives could not understand, and they ever after retained the firm conviction that an injustice had been done in not punishing him. [ ] mr. clarke, sub-protector of the aborigines, estimated that in there were , natives capable of bearing arms inhabiting the shores of cook strait. in a petition to parliament signed by seven hundred residents of wellington shortly after the massacre, it was stated "that it is in the power of the aborigines at any time to massacre the whole of the british population in cook strait, and rauparaha has been known to declare that he will do it." [ ] on the th june, the wellington magistrates met at mr. mcdonough's house, and on the motion of dr. evans, seconded by the hon. j. petre, it was resolved: "that mr. spain, the commissioner of lands, be requested to go in his capacity as one of the magistrates to communicate to the native chiefs and tribes of cook strait their determination, which is not to take or to sanction any attempt to take vengeance for the death of the white men at wairau, but to leave the whole matter to the decision of the queen's government, who will inquire into it and decide according to law." [ ] now known as whanganui. [ ] te ahu karamu's son was travelling with wakefield on this journey, and under the impression that wakefield would kill him in revenge for the massacre, te ahu "had furiously urged the otaki natives to join rauparaha and rangihaeata in an attack upon wellington." [ ] "some of the whalers present laughed at this, having too many friends and relatives by their wives to fear being turned out. taylor, among the number, laughed outright, for he had lived with the tribe for many years and was a general favourite among them. rauparaha turned to him and said, 'you must go too, sammy'" (_wakefield_). [ ] wakefield has said that rauparaha not only rebuked the queen, but spoke offensively of her. but it must always be remembered that he was naturally prejudiced against the chief, and that he was frequently vindictive towards those from whom he differed. [ ] "taiaroa talked to me for some time about land in a disgusting jargon composed of whaling slang, broken french, and bad english, so that i was obliged to beg him to speak in maori, which i could better understand. i then made out that he was angry with 'wideawake' (colonel wakefield) and other white people for taking so much land, and he said he would turn the white people off to the southward if he did not get plenty of _utu_" (_wakefield_). [ ] these displays had a distinctly disturbing effect upon the native mind, the maoris regarding them as a sure and certain sign that the settlers meditated an attack upon them. [ ] the entire military force in the colony at the moment of the massacre was one weak company of infantry stationed at auckland, and there was no vessel of war on the station (_mundy_). [ ] this decision was written out in pencil and handed to mr. clarke to read out to the assemblage. because governor fitzroy did not claim the wairau district as having been paid for with blood--a course which the chiefs fully expected would be taken, in accordance with their own customs--british prestige and power are said to have suffered considerably in their estimation, and rangihaeata is reported to have remarked, "_he paukena te pakeha_" (the governor is soft, he is a pumpkin). when the middle island was sold to the government by taiaroa and the descendants of tamaiharanui, rangihaeata claimed part of the payment as compensation for the death of te pehi and his friends killed at kaiapoi, and his claim was allowed by governor grey. chapter viii the captive chief the decision of which governor fitzroy had delivered himself, as the result of his hurried investigation into the circumstances attending the tragedy at the wairau, brought him into bitter conflict with the more influential colonists, and added to his native troubles a european difficulty, which ultimately played no small part in his official undoing. fitzroy had, with a patriotism worthy of the best traditions of our race, sacrificed place and high prospects in the homeland to assume the governorship of new zealand, a post which was afterwards described by lord stanley as "a laborious, responsible, and ill-remunerated office in a distant colony." without money, or the means of obtaining it, to carry on his civil administration, and destitute of military support wherewith to assert his authority, he found himself defied by the natives and thwarted by the europeans. his appeals for soldiers were unheeded, and his schemes for supplementing his revenue were disallowed by the home authorities, who, instead of repairing their policy of parsimony, recalled the governor. thus was cut short a career upon which robert fitzroy had entered with only the highest motives, throughout which he had acted with the utmost devotion, and in which he had failed only because with his limited opportunities it was humanly impossible to succeed. his successor in the arduous task of soothing the dual discontent was captain grey, late of the rd regiment, who was then serving the crown with conspicuous distinction as governor of south australia. his success in dealing with native difficulties there, his achievements as an explorer, added to his valuable personal qualities, were his chief recommendations for the new responsibilities which it was proposed to ask him to assume. that the judgment of those responsible for the selection was sound, history has proved; but the administrations of fitzroy and grey cannot fairly be compared, for the reason that, while the former was expected to rule a turbulent population without either men or money, the latter was freely supplied with both. the new governor was further invested with the additional prestige derivable from the title of governor-in-chief, and from the fact that he was supported by a lieutenant-governor, who, in his subordinate authority, was stationed in the southern province. captain grey assumed the duties of his new office on november , . his first recorded contact with te rauparaha was on the occasion of his receiving from him and other chiefs a memorial, in which they expressed their anxiety to know his political intentions, and begged him to give them someone skilled in both native and european laws, who would advise them how best to avoid conflict with the _pakeha_. they were, they said, deeply anxious to obey the laws of the queen, and just as they had teachers amongst them to lead them to a proper understanding regarding the will of god, so, in order to avoid misunderstanding, they desired some one to act as their guide and friend in the matter of the temporal law. grey was more than gratified with this evidence of loyalty and desire for harmony, and, in his reply, endeavoured to make it clear that it was his duty so to direct his authority as to secure the peace and happiness of all under his jurisdiction. "maoris and europeans," wrote the governor, "shall be equally protected and live under equal laws, both of them alike subjects of the queen and entitled to her favour and care. the maoris shall be protected in all their property and possessions, and no one shall be allowed to take anything from them or to injure them; nor will i allow maoris to injure one another. an end must be put to deeds of blood and violence." this clear and explicit declaration of his determination to permit of only one law for the _pakeha_ and maori, and to hold the racial balance justly before the eyes of the world, touched a responsive chord in the heart of the maori nation; and te rauparaha was but expressing the general sentiments of the people when he wrote in reply to the governor's message: "we have heard your words, which are like the light of day to us; our hearts are glad. friend, now will i hold fast your words for good, and for living in quiet, both of natives and europeans. your protecting word has come forth for one and for the other; your kind words are a light to us. now, for the first time, i can say the light has dawned for the maoris, and now no wrong-doing shall spring from me. i mean the errors of the natives. if you cannot come hither, will you write to me?" not less reassuring was the word of wi kingi rangitake, of ngati-awa. with these pronouncements of loyalty from the two most powerful chiefs on the west coast, grey felt more than equal to the task of subduing the malcontent natives under taringa-kuri, chief of the kaiwara _pa_, whose depredations in the hutt valley had been causing the greatest anxiety to the wellington settlers. both te rauparaha and rangihaeata had laid claim to part payment for the land which the new zealand company had purchased in this valley, their claim being based upon the alleged conquest of the country. this conquest mr. spain held to be incomplete, inasmuch as they had not resided on the land, which was really occupied by ngati-awa. he therefore disallowed their claim, although mr. clarke, junr., was anxious to pay out of the £ , awarded to the natives a sum of £ in liquidation of their rights, he having come to some such arrangement with rauparaha at an interview which took place at waikanae in the presence of the governor. hearing of mr. spain's objection, rauparaha, on february , , penned a letter to him, mr. clarke, and the governor, in which he warned them against paying the purchase-money for port nicholson over to "wrong parties," and listening to "strange men," at the same time urging them to make haste and come to otaki for the purpose of explaining their intentions to rangihaeata and himself. "friend mr. clarke, mr. spain, and the governor,--this letter is from me and rangihaeata, respecting your foolish work in paying for the land. this was the cause of you and us going wrong at the wairau, the foolish paying to wrong parties. do not listen to strange men, but make haste and make known to us your intentions, that the truth of what you have said may be seen. friend clarke, make haste. desist from listening to any man. son clarke and mr. spain, desist also from carrying your payment to men who have nothing to do with it, but bring it straight to us--myself and rangihaeata. this is all my speech to you by us. "rauparaha. "rangihaeata." to this mr. clarke replied on the th, assuring rauparaha that anything that he had promised him in the matter of payment would be carried out. simultaneously, mr. spain arranged to hold a court at porirua, in order to comply as speedily as possible with te rauparaha's request. this court, which was opened on th march, was attended by most of the leading chiefs and upwards of two hundred natives. after the preliminary addresses had been disposed of, mr. spain formally opened the court by saying, "rauparaha, i received your letter asking me to settle the port nicholson purchase, and after inquiry i have decided that the natives who owned the land are entitled to more money, and i therefore offer you new terms." to this te rauparaha answered, "my wish was to settle my claims at port nicholson, but you want me to give up the hutt." "did you not consent to receive £ for port nicholson and the hutt?" inquired mr. spain in an injured tone; to which te rauparaha replied that he had not regarded the bargain in that light. efforts were made to convince him that he had signed a deed in which the hutt was included, but he insisted that the boundary was not to go beyond a creek known as rotokakahi. "i am aware of the cause of this objection," said mr. spain. "that man sitting by your side, taringa-kuri, is cultivating land at the hutt to which he has no right." te rauparaha's answer was that the land belonged to taringa-kuri, as he was the oldest man of the resident natives; whereupon mr. spain rose to depart, and as he did so he turned, and, more in sorrow than in anger, upbraided te rauparaha for thus breaking faith with him in so flagrant a manner. the court then adjourned without either party having been able to convince the other. but te rauparaha did not permit the grass to grow under his feet, for he at once despatched taringa-kuri to cut a line through the scrub and bush dividing the upper from the lower hutt valley, in order to define clearly what territory he considered belonged to the _pakeha_ and what to the maori. on hearing that this work was in progress, mr. spain felt it incumbent upon him to go out and warn taringa-kuri that he was committing an illegal act, and that the boundary he was attempting to create would not be recognised by the government. mr. spain's reception was not an encouraging one. "if you have come to make remarks about our cutting this line, you may as well return, as we will listen to nothing you have got to say, nor will we be deterred from it by you, by the governor, or by the queen," was the truculent declaration of the first native whom he met. taringa-kuri was not less uncompromising. "i am cutting a line to divide the lands of the settlers from our own, and i am doing it under te rauparaha's orders," was his emphatic reply to mr. spain's demand for information as to why this work was proceeding. and in answer to the commissioner's protest that the line being cut was not the line agreed upon, the chief, with a fine show of indignation, accused him of hostile intentions. "it is plain," he said, "you are not peaceably disposed; you heard at porirua that rauparaha would not agree to your boundaries, and you appear determined to insist upon them. you had better return to the land of your birth." immediately upon his return to wellington, mr. spain despatched a letter to rauparaha again severely censuring him for committing a breach of faith in sending taringa-kuri to cut the line contrary to his (mr. spain's) decision, and concluding by saying, "let me tell you that after all that has occurred, kuri is acting contrary to the laws of the governor, and, if he persists in his illegal acts, he will be punished by the law accordingly." this letter mr. spain first showed to mr. hadfield, who approved its contents, and translated it into the native tongue for him, mr. spain thinking that this course would enhance its value in the native estimation. on the th rauparaha replied that it was not he who was withholding the land, but rangihaeata, who had negatived his voice in the councils of the tribe. but he still reiterated his former contention that he had never agreed to sell the hutt. the remonstrances on the part of mr. spain having proved fruitless, the governor first pacified heke[ ] and kawiti in the north, and then came south in february, , with all the prestige of a successful "fighting governor," to direct his operations against the truculent taringa-kuri. in an interview, the governor peremptorily demanded the evacuation of the valley. the chief pleaded for time to reap and remove the standing crops; but the governor, strong in the knowledge that he had right on his side, and an ample force to sustain his demand, refused to consider any compromise, and gave the chief no alternative between immediate compliance and a declaration of war. the natives hesitated to test the question by an appeal to arms, and sullenly withdrew from the disputed territory, but not from the valley itself. they fell back upon a _pa_ up in the ranges, which the governor afterwards described as "the strongest position he had seen in any part of the world." from this mountain fastness they made sudden and destructive raids upon the peaceful settlements in the vale below. two hundred soldiers were left to render the settlers what measure of protection they could, by defensive tactics. their instructions were not to attack the rebels in their stronghold, but, by vigilantly preventing them from securing supplies, to endeavour by starvation to render its continued occupation impossible. this policy had early the anticipated effect, and, acting on te rauparaha's assurance that the rebels had abandoned the _pa_, the governor visited the spot, and has thus described what he saw:-- "the forest which had been held by the enemy was traversed by a single narrow path, almost impassable for armed europeans. this path ascended a narrow ridge of rocks, having a precipice on each side covered with jungle. the ridge of rocks was so narrow that only one person could pass along it at a time, and it led to a hill with a broad summit, upon which a fortress had been constructed in such a manner as completely to command the path, which was rendered more difficult by an abattis placed across it. the rear of this position was quite as inaccessible as the front, and on each flank was a precipice; from the number of huts placed upon it, it must have been occupied by from three hundred to four hundred men." no sooner was this position abandoned than another, almost equally impregnable, was taken up, and from this lair in the depth of the hills a band of marauders crept down through the forest early in april of , stole past the troops, and late in the afternoon murdered a settler named gillespie and his son, while they were engaged threshing wheat. there were soldiers in the vicinity at the time, but they were more intent upon getting grog from burcham's public-house than upon protecting the settlers; and so stealthily was the attack carried out, that no one knew of the tragedy until charles gillespie, returning home in the dusk, found his father and brother in the throes of death. te rauparaha disclaimed, and probably with truth, all knowledge of or participation in this treacherous act, and even offered his assistance in bringing the murderers to justice. rangihaeata was not so frank--or it may be that he was even more frank--for he instantly betook himself to the hills, and openly declared himself in sympathy with those who were thus contesting the question of the supremacy of the races. he refused to give the murderers up to the authorities, and busied himself with preparations for continuing the contest. nor had the military long to wait for his onset. the most advanced british post in the valley was known as boulcott's farm, commanded by lieutenant page, who had a force of fifty men with him. here, just before dawn, on may , , the sentry, as he kept his lonely vigil, was startled by seeing some dark body creeping through the grass towards him. without waiting to challenge, he fired, and in an instant the air was rent with the savage yells of a horde of warriors, who, under mamaku, had left rangihaeata's _pa_ at pahautanui on the previous day, and, scaling the mountain range, had fallen upon the sleeping camp. the sentry and the picket were soon overpowered and killed, but not before the alarm had been given by allen, the bugle-boy attached to the company. roused from sleep by the commotion, he seized his bugle, and was in the act of sounding the call to arms, when a blow from a tomahawk struck the instrument from his hand. he still had time to recover it, and blow a blast which awakened his sleeping comrades, before he was laid low by a second stroke of the murderous axe. a galling fire was at once opened upon the outpost from the surrounding bush by the secreted natives, and lieutenant page and two men, who were with him in one of the out-buildings, hurried off to join their comrades who had been sleeping in the stockade. intercepted by a swift rush on the part of a band of natives, they were only rescued from their perilous position by a determined effort on the part of the sergeant, who rallied some of the men and went to his commander's relief. three men went down with wounds, and the remaining six fought the savages hand to hand, checking their onslaught until the wounded were got safely away and the remainder were able to retreat to the barn. here the available force was assembled, and, leaving a sufficient garrison to defend the position, lieutenant page[ ] and his men sallied out in extended order, firing as they went. under this pressure the attack soon slackened, and, on the arrival of reinforcements, was turned into retreat, but not before six men had been killed and four wounded. during the following month there was another skirmish in the valley, which did not redound greatly to the credit of the british arms. these repeated raids convinced the governor that he must lance the lairs which were harbouring these human wolves, who represented all that was worst in the native race. he had been desirous of deferring field operations against these malcontents until the winter was over; but, realising that every successful attack only encouraged the enemy to further excesses, and diminished the enthusiasm of the loyal natives, he now determined upon an immediate and active campaign. the policy of road-making, which had been initiated some months before, was vigorously prosecuted, the friendly natives, as well as the soldiers, being employed in the work. the deep paths which were thus cut through the luxuriant beauty of the wilderness to porirua and into the heart of the hutt valley robbed the forest of much of its terror, and were masterly counter-strokes to the secret tactics of rangihaeata's followers. that chief's reply to the governor's policy was to build a _pa_ at pahautanui, so skilfully situated and so strongly fortified that he openly boasted that nothing but british artillery could drive him from it. but he did more than this. a _tapu_ placed on the porirua track for a time disturbed and paralysed our native allies; but the inconvenience was only temporary, and the governor succeeded in gradually breaking down the chief's authority. an important military post was established at porirua, garrisoned by three hundred men, and the services of the friendly natives were enlisted in the contemplated movement against the forces of rangihaeata. his _pa_ was reconnoitred on the night of july th by lieutenant the hon. charles yelverton, of the royal artillery, and mr. mckillop, then a midshipman on board h.m.s. _calliope_, and the conclusion at which they arrived was that the artillery might easily be brought forward against the _pa_, and that in all other respects its investment was feasible, so soon as the governor had a sufficient force at his disposal for the purpose. but there was one other factor to be taken into account. what would te rauparaha's attitude be if rangihaeata were attacked? in his _pa_ at taupo, on the shores of porirua harbour, he occupied a strong strategical position; and, though he had consistently professed his friendship for the governor and his loyalty to the queen, he was supremely distrusted, both by the authorities and by our native allies. as early as june of , major last had reported to the governor, from wellington, that he was "a little suspicious of te rauparaha";[ ] but the insinuation of disloyalty coming to the chief's ears, he challenged the major's suspicions by offering to come to wellington to prove the contrary. in view of the intensely hostile feeling prevailing amongst the european population against the chief, major last deemed the proposed visit to be ill-timed and impolitic, and declined to encourage rauparaha in his intention. but the bold and fearless proposal must have shaken the officer's confidence in the grounds for his aspersion. the position of the chief at this time was a most unenviable one, for there is evidence that the governor had begun to share the doubts of major last. it must not be forgotten, however, that the seeds of suspicion may have been assiduously sown in his mind by rauparaha's tribal enemies, who would have exulted in embroiling him in a dispute with the local authorities. even his friends who were with rangihaeata in the field, either to further their own schemes or out of resentment at his passive attitude, sought to draw him into the vortex of the struggle. the _mana_ of the chief was still great, and rangihaeata and mamaku endeavoured to conjure with his name and claim his sanction for a letter to some tribal comrades containing an appeal for assistance. the native carrying this letter was captured, and the intercepted document placed in the hands of the governor, who immediately sailed for porirua in h.m.s. _driver_. on board the vessel he was visited by te rauparaha, and, during the interview, the incriminating message was produced and handed to the chief, who instantly denounced its contents as falsehoods and its writer as his enemy. "i watched him narrowly at the time," says grey, "and his manner was such as to lead me to think that he really had no knowledge that such a letter had been written." though thus frankly confessing that the letter was an injustice to the chief, the governor, either from some innate mistrust of his visitor or a too ready disposition to listen to the sinister suggestions made against him, resolved that he would take no risks as to the future conduct of the man whom he believed he had to checkmate. he therefore determined that, before moving against rangihaeata, he would forestall any possibility of an attack upon his lines of communication by capturing te rauparaha and holding him hostage for the good behaviour of his tribe. without indicating by sign or word to the chief that the friendship between them was at an end, and without permitting him even to suspect the existence of any doubts as to his loyalty, the governor took his farewell of te rauparaha, and on the afternoon of july left porirua. for the purpose of allaying suspicion, the _driver_, in which he sailed, ostentatiously steamed to the north; but during the night she returned and stealthily anchored at the entrance of the harbour. boats were lowered, and a company of a hundred and thirty men, under major last, captain stanley, of h.m.s. _calliope_, and lieutenant mckillop,[ ] landed, and silently surrounded the stockade of the taupo _pa_, in which the chief and his people were sleeping. the arrangements of the capturing party were so admirably made that no suspicion of what was moving around them was allowed to reach the natives until the stormers rushed into rauparaha's _whare_, and, seizing the chief in his bed, carried him, in spite of his struggles and protestations, down to the boat side. lieutenant mckillop, who personally accomplished the seizure of the chief, has left on record the following account of the exciting incident:-- [illustration: te rangihaeata. after a drawing by c. d. barraud. esq.] "i was sent for soon after we arrived, and had an interview with the governor, who informed me of rauparaha's treachery, and his wish to have him and three others taken prisoners, if possible by surprise; and knowing that i was acquainted with their persons and locality, he asked me if i would undertake the capture of the 'old serpent' myself, allowing me to choose my own time and method of doing it, major durie, the inspector of police, being selected to take the others. accordingly it was arranged that we were to leave the ship before daylight the next morning and land quietly on the rocks some little distance from the _pa_ in which our treacherous allies lived, taking a mixed force of bluejackets and soldiers, amounting to two hundred men, to support us in the case of the natives rising before we had effected our object. it was the governor's particular desire that we should not lay our hands on these men until we had told them they were prisoners for treason, but on no account to let old rauparaha escape. i took mr. dighton with me to act as interpreter, and four of our men unarmed, giving them instructions to seize upon the old chief as soon as he was made aware of the charge preferred against him, and to hurry him down to the boat before he could rouse his people, the principal object being to secure him. we landed at break of day, and while they were forming the troops on the beach, i with my small party ran on, as it was then light, fearing that conscious guilt might sharpen their ears and frustrate our plans. when we reached the _pa_ not a soul was stirring, but our heavy footsteps soon brought some of the sleepers to the doors of their huts, knowing we were not of the barefooted tribe. we could not wait to give any explanation, but pushed on to the hut which contained the object of our search, whose quick ears had detected strange footsteps. never having liked me, he did not look at all easy on perceiving who the intruder was, although his wife showed no alarm and received me with her usual salutation. upon informing him that he was my prisoner, he immediately threw himself (being in a sitting posture) back into the hut, and seized a tomahawk, with which he made a blow at his wife's head, thinking she had betrayed him. i warded the blow with my pistol and seized him by the throat, my four men immediately rushing in on him, and, securing him by his arms and legs, started off as fast as his violent struggles would allow of, which for a man of his age (upwards of seventy) were almost superhuman. he roared out lustily 'ngati-toa! ngati-toa!' endeavouring to bring his tribesmen to his rescue, and in a few seconds every man was on his legs and came rushing over to see what was the matter with their chief; but the troops and bluejackets coming up at the same time and surrounding the _pa_ prevented any attempt at a rescue, as he was already in the boat. his last effort to free himself was fastening with his teeth on to my coxswain's shoulder, who bore this piece of cannibalism unflinchingly. i sent mr. dighton off to the ship with him, there being not much chance of his escaping from the boat, particularly as he was informed that he would be shot if he attempted to escape. i then returned to the _pa_ to search for arms and ammunition, and also to see if the other prisoners had been secured. the interior of the _pa_ presented a woeful spectacle, the women all howling in chorus with the pigs and the children, the two latter being much knocked about in the search for arms." in the mêlée which ensued upon the capture of te rauparaha, four other natives were also seized by major durie, and in the same arbitrary manner were carried off to the ship.[ ] two of these were the influential chiefs, te kanae (the _ariki_ of the ngati-toa tribe) and hohepa, and two were men of inferior rank. by some writers who have been at no pains to conceal their hostility to te rauparaha, it is alleged that upon his arrival on board the _driver_ he manifested the most craven spirit, until he was assured that it was not the governor's intention to hang him from the yard-arm. but, whatever be the truth of this assertion, he at least retained sufficient dignity and self-respect as a chief to strenuously object to the additional humiliation of being imprisoned in company with men of no standing in the tribe; and, in deference to his injured pride and his vehement expostulations, pohe and his companion were sent ashore and released from their brief captivity. naturally, the little settlement at taupo was thrown into a state of intense excitement. the seizure of their chief was so sudden, so unexpected, that its reality could not for the moment be grasped; but when its full significance broke in upon the astonished tribe, the startling tidings was immediately despatched to te rangihaeata, who was still sitting in defiance in his stronghold at pahautanui. he at once made for the coast, but was too late. the governor had several hours' start of him, and he was compelled to make a wide detour to avoid the british post at porirua. he arrived on the wooded hill-side above te rauparaha's _pa_ only in time to see the war-ship with her captives steaming down the coast.[ ] enraged and disappointed at what he must have regarded as the perfidy of the _pakeha_, and disheartened at his own impotency, he gloomily retired to his lair, there to sing[ ] that beautiful lament, in which he mournfully acknowledges the increasing ascendancy of the stranger, and chides the waning loyalty of his own people. "my brave canoe! in lordly decoration lordliest far, my proud canoe! amid the fleet that fleetest flew-- how wert thou shattered by the surge of war! 'tis but the fragments of thy wreck, o my renowned canoe, that lie all crushed on yonder war-ship's deck! raha! my chief, my friend! thy lonely journey wend: stand with thy wrongs before our god of battle's face: bid him thy foes requite!-- ah me! te raukawa's foul desertion and disgrace-- ah me! the english ruler's might! raha! my chief of chiefs! ascend with all thy griefs up to their lord of peace--there stand before his face-- let him thy faith requite!-- ah me! te toa's sad defection and disgrace-- ah me! the english ruler's might! one counsel from the first i gave, 'break up thy forces, comrade brave, scatter them all about the land in many a predatory band!'-- but porirua's forest dense, ah, thou wouldst never stir from thence, 'there,' saidst thou, 'lies my best defence,'-- now, now, of such design ill-starred, how grievously thou reap'st the full reward! hence, vain lamenting--hence, away! hence, all the brood of sorrow born! there will be time enough to mourn in the long days of summer, ere the food is cropped, abundant for the work of blood. now i must marshal in compact array, great thoughts that crowding come of an avenging day!"[ ] the seizure of te rauparaha, at such a time and in such a manner, is one of the many debatable points in the history of this period, and, notwithstanding that many pages have been written upon the incident, the ethics of the act are apparently as far from final determination as ever. to the present writer its justification lies in its success. there is no doubt that, however high-handed and arbitrary, it was a tactical stroke which compelled waverers to pause, and paralysed those who were already in active hostility. on the other hand, it might just as easily have roused the whole maori race into a frenzy of injured pride, and plunged the country into the vortex of a retaliatory war. only one thing saved new zealand from this calamity, and that was the tribal dissensions. had the maori been a united people, this unprovoked indignity put upon one of their greatest men must have excited their bitterest passions against the perpetrators of the deed; and one almost shudders to realise in what a hair-balance the fate of the little colony trembled at this moment of her history. in criticising the governor's policy, however, it must be borne in mind that he, with his knowledge of maori conditions, may have counted upon these very intertribal hatreds to prevent anything in the nature of a general rising. this being assumed, his action is shorn of some of its rashness and impolicy, and he becomes entitled to credit for the success of his methods of overawing the turbulent spirit of the malcontent maoris. on no other ground than that the end justifies the means can the seizure of te rauparaha be defended, nor, so far as the writer is aware, has any other defence ever been seriously attempted. the most that can be urged against the chief is that, unlike te kingi rangitake, he did not join the allies and enter upon active hostilities against the so-called rebels. of the fact that he secretly aided them there is little evidence and no proof. what evidence there may be is confined to the intercepted letters, admitted by the governor himself to be forgeries, and to the unsupported statements of natives, some jealous of his power, and others aggrieved at his previous treatment of them. in this respect te rauparaha must have felt that, having sown the wind, he was now reaping the whirlwind; for those natives who had gone down under his hand in war, or had been outwitted by his diplomacy, were only too anxious to represent him in an unfavourable light to the governor, and were never tired of insinuating, and even broadly asserting, that his spirit was behind the rebellion, even though his hand might be invisible. in communicating with mr. gladstone on july , , grey described his military operations, which were designed to check a company of some two hundred rebels who, he had reason to believe, were marching from whanganui to join te rangihaeata. he landed at waikanae, otaki, and ohau, where he had a conference with the friendly chiefs. he proceeded to say: "the whole of the chiefs with whom i had interviews declared that these disturbances were to be entirely attributed to the intrigues of te rauparaha." how much his mind was influenced by the opinions of the chiefs may be judged by the fact that on the following day he launched his successful stroke, but how little he had weighed the value of their testimony may also be inferred from the circumstance that a year later he wrote a despatch to mr. gladstone's successor at the colonial office, in which he was forced to admit that after retaining te rauparaha in captivity for ten months his difficulties in deciding how to dispose of him were enhanced by the fact that all his "efforts made to secure the evidence of pohi[ ] failed, consequently it was not possible to prove te rauparaha's guilt in a court of law." it is strange, if so many chiefs knew that the brain of te rauparaha was forging the balls which rangihaeata was firing, that none were able to testify to the fact in an established court of law, and, travesty upon british justice though it may seem, it is nevertheless a fact that the man who had relied upon the treaty of waitangi to secure him his rights and liberties was detained a prisoner without formal charge and without the chance of a trial until it was thought possible to prove his guilt. how far te rauparaha's seizure and continued detention were a palliation to the wounded feelings of the european settlers it is difficult to pronounce, but it is not in the least unlikely that the governor paid some regard to the popular effect of the step, even if he totally ignored its judicial aspect. in all probability te rauparaha was at this time the best-hated man in new zealand. the memory of the massacre at the wairau had not yet died out, and there were many who, misunderstanding that fatal event, could not look upon the chief whose name had been so tragically associated with it in any other light than as a social and moral outcast. to this not inconsiderable section of the community imprisonment was much too good for te rauparaha, but it was preferable to the negative attitude of governor fitzroy, and grey, no doubt, counted upon standing well with these extremists by the initiation of a policy in which there was a touch of retribution, however barren it might be of justice. with the european population, then, the kidnapping of the ngati-toa leader was, on the whole, a popular move, and with a number of the natives it was hailed as an act of retribution, long delayed, but nevertheless a judgment at last. upon his own people the effect was different. they were stunned by the swiftness of the blow and confounded by its audacity. here in a twinkling the very eye had been plucked out of their head, the heart torn from their body, and that, too, at a time when they had no quarrel with the government, and by a man whom they had been wont to regard as their friend. their first impulse was to fly to arms. to attack wellington, to sweep the _pakeha_ into the sea, to avenge the wrongs of te rauparaha, was the cry. te rangihaeata called his own followers about him and sent out his appeals to the northern tribes: "friends and children, come and revenge the injuries of te rauparaha, because te rauparaha is the eye of the faith of all men. make haste hither in the days of december." but his design for the extermination of the europeans was doomed to be frustrated. his own particular faithfuls were few in number, and the one great chief, te heuheu, to whom he might have looked for encouragement in such an emergency, was dead, buried beneath a huge landslide which had overwhelmed his village on the shores of lake taupo. of others with whom he had been accustomed to co-operate in the days gone by, some were espousing the cause of the enemy, and some, having embraced the christian faith, had grown weary of incessant war. their reply, which was something in the nature of a rebuke, betokened that they had realised the futility of opposing the further progress of the _pakeha_. "how can you dry up the sea? that is why we say, finish fighting with the european." such was their answer to his summons to arms, and rangihaeata was left to fall back upon his small band of war-worn desperadoes to carry on a struggle which was hopeless from the first.[ ] abandoned to his own resources, he applied himself to his duties of leader with the energy of despair. realising that his position at pahautanui was no longer tenable, as its swamps and shallows were no protection against the artillery which he knew was collected at porirua, he withdrew his forces into the deeply wooded horokiwi valley. through this forest defile, tangled and matted by an almost impenetrable undergrowth, he was pursued by a force of , men, composed of militia and native allies, under major last. te rangihaeata's generalship proved equal to the peculiar circumstances in which he found himself, and his genius for war won for him the warmest encomiums from british officers, who have generously expressed their admiration for the skill with which the chief conducted his retreat. into the density of the wooded valley he led his pursuers, enticing them by a simulated resistance, but abandoning his camps as soon as they pressed too closely upon him. in one of these semi-fortified resting-places the british soldiers discovered the bugle which had been taken from the boy allen when he was struck down at the fatal fight at boulcott's farm. at length, retreat being no longer possible, the rebel chief turned at bay and fought his pursuers at a point near the head of the valley. his decision to throw down the gage of battle here was not the result of accident or impulse, but was due to deliberate calculation. the position was admirably chosen, and he held the enemy in check long enough to enable him to fortify it effectively. he threw a rough breastwork of tree-trunks across the narrow neck of a spur springing from a densely wooded hill, the approach to which was flanked by steep ravines, leaving so narrow a ridge that it could only be passed abreast by a very limited force of men. this wooden rampart, which presented so imposing a front to an enemy, was liberally perforated with loopholes, through which the defenders were able to concentrate their fire with deadly effect upon any approaching force. this arrangement, combined with the inaccessible nature of the ground, made its seizure by storm practically impossible. nevertheless, an attack was determined upon, and on the morning of august , , fire was opened upon the position, but with no other visible result than that ensign blackburn[ ] and two privates were killed and nine others wounded. on the following day the assault, which had been so inauspiciously commenced, was suspended, for major last had now seen enough to convince him that some projectile more searching than bullets was necessary to dislodge the defenders from their stronghold. he accordingly sent to porirua and procured two small mortars, which, after infinite labour spent in dragging them into position, were discovered to be absolutely worthless for purposes of attack, for the high forest trees made accurate gunnery impossible. seeing his troops in a deplorable condition, even after this short bush campaign, and hopeless of driving rangihaeata out, except at an enormous sacrifice of human life, major last decided to withdraw the regular troops and leave the friendly natives, under puaha, to watch and wait for hunger to work its effects upon the stubborn garrison. a few days sufficed for this. on the th the allies were surprised by a hail of lead suddenly raining down upon their lines. no sooner had they sprung to arms than they saw that the enemy was afoot, the volley which they had fired being the signal for retreat. immediately the real nature of the movement was ascertained, puaha and his loyalists rushed forward over the fallen trees and broken ground, and reached the breastwork only in time to see the last of the defenders escape by the thickly veiled forest track, where they were swallowed up by the bush and lost to human view. hunger and cold had done their work, for there were no signs of food supplies inside the camp except some edible fern. nor did the escape of the defenders to the open avail them much, for they were so harried by the followers of puaha as they fled along the snow-covered mountain ridge that the opportunities for procuring food were few and uncertain. some made their perilous way to the coast, in the secret hope of finding food and shelter amongst their friends in the _pas_, but these were for the most part found by the vigilant wiremu kingi, and either driven back into the mountain fastnesses or promptly secured as prisoners of war.[ ] deeming himself fortunate to have so far evaded death or capture, te rangihaeata retreated northwards with his famished adherents until he reached the lowlands of the manawatu. there, beaten though still defiant, he retired to a _pa_ built in the midst of the swamps and marshes of poroutawhao, where he laid down his arms and, sullenly drawing his mat about him, prepared to watch the irresistible march of the _pakeha_, though refusing to acknowledge defeat at his hands. "i am finished," he wrote to the governor, "but do not suppose that you conquered me. no; it was these my own relatives and friends, rangitake and others. it was by them i was overcome, and not by you, o governor."[ ] a new cause for anxiety, in the outbreak of hostilities at whanganui, now diverted grey's attention momentarily from the fugitive chief, who improved the respite thus given by refraining from any act of violence. although no formal peace was declared, grey wisely decided not to precipitate further trouble by following him into the marshes of poroutawhao. true, on the very day (april , ) that the news of the outbreak at whanganui reached wellington, the chief made a sensational descent upon kapiti. in the grey of the early morning a whaler named brown was awakened by a sound at the door of his hut, and, as he raised himself on his elbow, he saw the tall form of rangihaeata enter the room with a tomahawk in his hand. the whaler not unnaturally thought he had come to take his life, and, in his subsequent narration of the incident, he indulged in some heroics, telling how he had challenged the chief to slay him on the spot. but rangihaeata was not in search of a defenceless whaler's blood. he had come to demand some powder which was rightly his, and which he had left there for safe keeping. when he had secured his property, he went harmlessly away, after shaking hands in the most friendly manner with the frightened seaman. some of his followers, however, were not quite so scrupulous; and, in searching the hut for the powder, they had appropriated a bundle of bank notes and some sovereigns, and secreted them about their persons until they returned to the _pa_. here rangihaeata discovered the theft, and immediately sent back the plunder to the governor, accompanied by a characteristic note, in which he made it clear that, however much he might be in opposition to the government, he had no desire to be esteemed a common thief. with rangihaeata beaten out of the field, we may now return to te rauparaha, whom we left in the hands of his captors. to ensure his greater security, he was, immediately upon the arrival of the _driver_ at wellington, transferred to h.m.s. _calliope_,[ ] where he was placed under the watchful eye of captain stanley, for whom, we are told, he afterwards acquired a high regard. on board this ship he was detained with some show of liberty for upwards of ten months, visiting the principal ports of northern and central new zealand, as the duties of the station demanded the presence of the vessel. during all this period no attempt was made to bring him to trial, though no pains were spared by the governor to secure the evidence which would ensure his conviction. in a despatch written to the colonial office on december , , grey endeavoured to explain his position and justify his halting attitude, but, in the trenchant words of one of his critics, his was a justification which itself required to be justified:-- "a number of designing europeans, who are annoyed at my interfering with their illegal purchases of land, have thought it proper to agitate the question of the justice and propriety of my arresting te rauparaha. some most improper publications have already appeared, and i regret to state that i find a great effect is being produced upon the minds of the native chiefs. the difficulty of my position is that i am not yet quite satisfied whether or not it will be expedient or necessary to bring the old man to trial. in fact, i am rather anxious to avoid doing so, and i fear that, were i to make public the various crimes for which he has been seized by the government, and the proofs of his guilt upon which the government justify his detention, a large portion of the european population would be so exasperated against him that it would be difficult for the government to avoid bringing him to trial; and, if i were compelled to adopt this step from having made known the charges against him, i should probably be accused of having ungenerously prejudiced the public against him previously to his being brought to trial." the only impression which the unbiassed student can derive from a perusal of this specious reasoning is that the governor, in seeking to excuse himself for an unjustifiable action, has in reality delivered his own condemnation for a grave breach of trust. if the "various crimes" of which the chief was suspected were as defined as the governor implies they were, and if "the proofs of his guilt upon which the government justified his detention" were clear and unimpeachable, obviously then it was his bounden duty to the colony and to te rauparaha that the chief should be brought to trial at the earliest possible moment. but the real fact was that the offences of te rauparaha were as imaginary as the proofs of his guilt were mythical, and he was kept captive on a ship of war while the governor was diligently endeavouring to find pohi, who was supposed to be possessed of important secrets, or was sedulously filling in the missing links in the chain of evidence which he hoped would establish the fact that certain messengers, who were known to have carried information to rangihaeata, were indeed sent by te rauparaha. a fruitless ten months was spent in these endeavours to bring home guilt to te rauparaha, and at the end of that time grey was forced to admit that he was still unable to prove the chief guilty in a court of law. he therefore began to consider how far he was justified in longer detaining him, while still refusing to do him the justice of giving him a clear acquittal. he temporised with other reasons, from which it is clear that he regarded the step as one of expediency rather than of right. "the detention of the prisoners," he wrote to earl grey, "has caused expense and inconvenience to the government"; and therefore, to relieve his administration of something which it had forced upon itself, he was magnanimous enough to loose the chains from off the chief. but the governor was also influenced by other considerations. he believed that the capture and long captivity of te rauparaha had completely destroyed his _mana_, so that he was now incapable of originating any new mischief, even if he were so inclined. but we may also do him the justice of believing that he was genuinely anxious to placate the ngati-toa people, who had repeatedly petitioned him for their leader's release, and to allay an ugly suspicion, which had gained credence amongst them, that te rauparaha had been murdered, and that his so-called detention was merely a subterfuge to cover a desperate crime. "repeated applications," wrote the governor, "have been made by te rauparaha's tribe for his release, and this step seems to be quite justified by his ten months of good conduct. waka nene and te wherowhero also petitioned for his release, and went guarantee for his good behaviour. upon the whole, with the larger force that will be placed at my disposal, and after the convincing proofs which the natives have so frequently afforded of their regarding their interests as identical with those of the government, i entertain no apprehension of te rauparaha being able to effect further mischief, even if he were disposed to do so. i therefore determined to order his release, merely requiring te wherowhero and waka nene to pledge their words for his future good conduct, and although i exacted no conditions either from themselves or from the prisoners, i recommended them to require both te rauparaha and hohepa to reside on the northern portions of the island until i felt justified in stating that i had no objection to them permitting te rauparaha to return to his own country." under the guarantee of good conduct given by te wherowhero and waka nene, te rauparaha was released at auckland, and was received as a guest into te wherowhero's house, which had been built for him by the government in what is now the auckland domain. here, though nominally free, he must have felt the bitterness of his exile, for he frequently displayed the humiliation which was surging within his soul by relapsing into periods of deep melancholy, during which he doubtless meditated upon the departed glory of the past and the hopelessness of the future. with him times had indeed changed. from the imperious leader of a victorious tribe, supreme and absolute, his word the word of authority, his very look, his merest gesture, an unquestionable command, he found himself shorn of his power, degraded by captivity, destitute of influence, and little more than a memory--the hoary vestige of a stately ruin. but his path was not all strewn with thorns, and there were not wanting those, both maori and european, who strove to lighten his burden and salve his wounded soul. visitors frequently sought to cheer his drooping spirits, and, as a compliment to the conqueror of kapiti, te wherowhero brought the flower of the hauraki chiefs to do him honour. in september, , two hundred of these warriors, casting aside their tribal prejudices, came and visited him. as the kilted band of strangers advanced, te rauparaha, dressed in a dogskin mat and forage cap, went out to meet them. he saluted several of the leading men according to native custom, and then followed the speechmaking inseparable from maori gatherings. squatting in a semicircle upon the ground, the assemblage listened with rapt attention to the oration delivered by te rauparaha, of whom all had heard, but whom few had previously seen. his speech was a dignified recitation of his past deeds, and while he spoke of his struggles with waikato, his pilgrimage, and his conquests, he delivered himself brilliantly and dramatically, for the fire of the old warrior seemed to burn again within him and the blood of the victor to pulsate once more through his veins. but when he came to describe his seizure and captivity, the injustice and humiliation of it all bore down his valiant spirit, and he concluded his oration with difficulty and almost in tears. to this great effort of maori eloquence replies of a lengthy and ceremonial nature were delivered by taraia, te wherowhero, and several members of hauraki's aristocracy, and then food was served on a sumptuous scale to the strangers. it was, however, noticed that te rauparaha ate but sparingly and was ill at ease. he rose and walked to his house, into which he was followed by two of the women, who there sang to him of the deeds of his fathers, and of the heroes of the ancient line from which he had sprung, the lament bringing a flood of tears to the old man's dim eyes. still under the surveillance of te wherowhero, te rauparaha spent six months in the country of the waikatos, the scene of some of his youthful exploits; but, feeling his freedom to be liberty only in name, and himself a stranger in a strange land, he preferred a request to the governor to be allowed to return to his own people by the shores of cook strait, where was centred everything in life that he valued. the governor granted his request, believing that he had now nothing to fear from the chief, and recognising that his return would have a quieting influence upon rangihaeata, who, during his uncle's absence, had steadfastly refused to believe that the man by whose orders wareaitu[ ] had been executed would be more merciful to te rauparaha. accordingly, in january of , the governor, lady grey, lieut.-colonel mundy, te wherowhero, taraia, te rauparaha, and several other chiefs, embarked on board h.m.s. _inflexible_ and steamed for otaki. arrived there, the vessel was immediately boarded by tamihana te rauparaha, who, clothed in the garb of a clergyman, came off to welcome his father. the morning of january , , was the time appointed for the restoration of te rauparaha to his people. when the boats had been lowered to row the party ashore, the old chief came upon the quarter-deck dressed in full naval uniform, even to the cocked hat and the epaulets. his surprise and indignation were, however, considerable when he observed that the governor and his suite had no idea of regarding the event as a state occasion, and were clothed in simple undress coats. nor was his ill-temper improved when the governor further robbed the incident of ceremonial importance by refusing to accord to him the honour of a salute from the ship's guns as he left the vessel's side. with eyes flashing and nostrils dilated, he sprang back into his cabin, and, throwing off his brilliant uniform, immediately reappeared wrapped in the sombre folds of an ancient blanket. wounded in spirit at the absence of those impressive features which would have made his homecoming something of a triumph, he landed on the otaki beach in no enviable mood; and, as the party proceeded towards the inland _pa_, he turned away from them, and sitting down in the sand with his face towards the ocean, covered his old grey head with his mat, and for two hours sat and sobbed like a child. during this meditation of tears no one approached him. maori etiquette forbade his kinsmen breaking in upon his grief, and european courtesy dictated a discreet respect for the feelings of one who had come back to find the times so vastly changed, and for him so sadly out of joint. in that brief time, as the old warrior sat sighing in sympathy with the sobbing sea, there must have passed before him in vivid picture the whole panorama of his eventful life--his struggles, his schemes, his dreams, the anguish of defeat, the glut of victory, and then the final triumph in which tribe after tribe went down before him, and his name became wonderful and mighty throughout the land. but now, because of the advent of the _pakeha_, power had melted in his hand like snow. his life, like the wind-swept ruin of his old heathen _pa_, which stood broken and dilapidated a few chains off, had become but a shadow and a memory of the past; an exemplification of the fallible and transitory nature of mundane things. at length, rousing himself from his reverie, he proceeded to the new christian settlement of hadfield, at otaki, which had been built mainly by the efforts of his son, tamahana te rauparaha, and his nephew, matene te whiwhi. a motley crowd of five or six hundred people poured out of the little settlement to welcome their chief, the governor, and lady grey; and, as an evidence of the elevating influences which were operating amongst them,[ ] prayers in the native tongue were read in the open air, before the feast which had been prepared for the visitors was placed before them. a glass-windowed, carpeted _whare_ was the banquet-room, and a clean damask cloth covered the table at which the guests were seated, while a daughter of rangihaeata courteously discharged the duties of hostess. on the following day te rauparaha presented himself before the people, and was received with the usual evidences of maori jubilation--interminable speeches, wild and barbarous dances, and endless feasting. almost immediately he exercised the prerogative of his freedom by visiting rangihaeata, who was hovering in the neighbourhood of otaki, but with what intent no one knew. te rauparaha was accompanied by te wherowhero and some of the visiting chiefs, and the _korero_ lasted several days. what the precise nature of their discussions was will never be known; but that they were not of a treasonable nature may be inferred from the fact that the governor, hearing that rangihaeata was at that time harbouring a notorious murderer, whom he refused to deliver up to justice, sent a letter to te rauparaha calling upon him and his compatriots to show their displeasure at rangihaeata's conduct by instantly withdrawing from his presence. at the time the letter arrived, the chiefs were on the point of sitting down to partake of rangihaeata's hospitality; but without hesitation they rose and left, though not before telling the obdurate chief their reason for doing so.[ ] this evidence of unfailing loyalty to the crown was as gratifying to the governor as it must have been aggravating to rangihaeata, who, when he met his excellency at otaki, roundly abused him and all the _pakehas_ for their presumptuous interference with his affairs. he declared that he was not tired of war, but evidently men and women had changed with the times, and now preferred to fight with the tongue rather than the _mere_ or the musket. his contempt for the europeans and all their doings was still as vehement as ever,[ ] and in his violent denunciation of their encroachment upon his privileges as a chief, he declared that he wanted nothing of them, and he wore nothing of their work. he was then standing before the governor, a tall and picturesque figure arrayed in a lustrous dogskin mat, with adornments in his hair; and when grey quietly exposed his inconsistency by pointing to a peacock's feather dangling about his head, he angrily muttered, "true, that is _pakeha_," and cast it scornfully from him. though rangihaeata never accepted the christian faith, in course of time his feelings mellowed and his attitude somewhat modified towards the occupation of the land by the white people. he not only acquiesced in the policy of road-making, which he had at first so strenuously opposed, but in he constructed two lines at poroutawhao at his own expense. a school was even established at his _pa_, and subsequently his declared principles not to use british goods were so far modified that he purchased and drove in an english-made buggy along roads made by british soldiers. his feelings, too, towards the governor considerably softened, and when, in , sir george grey was about to proceed to england for a holiday, the chief wrote to him in terms of genuine friendship, which gave proof of the surprising change which had come over the hitherto untamable spirit of "the tiger of the wairau":-- "o governor! my friend, i send you greeting. i need scarcely call to your remembrance the circumstances attending my flight and pursuit: how it was that i took refuge in the fastnesses and hollows of the country, as a crab lies concealed in the depths and hollows of the rocks. you it was who sought and found me out, and through your kindness it is that i am at this present time enjoying your confidence and surrounded with peace and quietness. this, then, is the expression of my esteem for you, which i take occasion to make now that you are on the point of leaving for your native land." the release of te rauparaha was the signal for a furious outburst of hostile criticism against the governor, and colonel wakefield led the agitation in one of the biased and bitter effusions usual with him where te rauparaha was concerned.[ ] but the anticipation of the governor that the chief could, or would, cause the authorities no further trouble, appears to have been amply justified. so far as is known of him from this time until his death, he lived quietly and unostentatiously at the otaki settlement. it would seem that he accepted with as good grace as he might the new order of things, and even sought to assist his people in reaching a higher plane of civilisation than at his advanced years he himself could ever hope to attain. it is at least accounted unto him for righteousness by his son, tamahana, that it was at his suggestion the ngati-raukawa people built the now famous church[ ] at otaki, wherein the tribe has so often heard the glad tidings of "peace on earth and goodwill towards men," so strongly contrasted with their old heathen doctrine of blood for blood. a striking feature in the architecture of this church is its central line of large totara pillars, which rise to a height of feet, carrying the solid ridge-pole above. these wooden columns were hewn out of the forest on the banks of the ohau, which in those days ran into the waikawa, forming one large stream. the trees were felled in the bush, floated down the river to the sea, and thence dragged along the coast, one native standing on the tree with pole in hand to guide it through the surf, while a string of stalwart men tugged at the heavy tow-ropes, as they marched along the sandy beach. column after column was, in this way, eventually landed at waitohu, near otaki, and then hauled across the sandhills by hundreds of brawny arms to the site where the church now stands. there the trees were, with infinite labour, dressed and prepared with native adzes, which are still kept in the church as interesting mementoes. no machinery of any kind was available to assist in the construction of the sacred edifice. hand labour was everywhere brought into requisition, and only the most cunning workmen were employed, men of reputed skill being brought from the manawatu to design and execute the carvings of the interior, while the reed lacework round the walls was also dexterously woven by these same masters of maori art. some attempt has been made, but with dubious success, to prove that te rauparaha ordered the building of this church because he had become deeply and genuinely religious, and his son has given us the pious assurance that he spent these last of his days "continually worshipping."[ ] "i saw," says an intelligent but newly arrived clergyman, who visited him at this time, "amongst the other men of note, the old and once powerful chief, te rauparaha, who, notwithstanding his great age of more than eighty years, is seldom missed from his class, and who, after a long life of perpetual turmoil, spent in all the savage excitement of cruel and bloody wars, is now to be seen every morning in his accustomed place, repeating those blessed truths which teach him to love the lord with all his heart and mind and soul and strength, and his neighbour as himself." this amiable picture, drawn in a spirit of enlarged charity, is unfortunately dimmed, and the sincerity of the chief's religious convictions discounted, by the story related of him by a conscientious, if unfriendly, critic. "a few days before his death," says this writer,[ ] "when suffering under the malady which carried him off, two settlers called to see him. while there, a neighbouring missionary came in and offered him the consolations of religion. rauparaha demeaned himself in a manner highly becoming such an occasion, but the moment the missionary was gone, he turned to his other visitors and said: 'what is the use of all that nonsense?--that will do my belly no good.' he then turned the conversation on the whanganui races, where one of his guests had been running a horse." such an incident, if true, leaves behind it the impression that the chief was shrewd enough to observe that the christian faith had taken root amongst his people, and conventional enough to adopt it for fashion's sake, without realising any real spiritual change. but we will not attempt to pass judgment upon one who was at so manifest a disadvantage in grasping the mysteries of a faith which centuries of science and learning have left still obscure to many more fortunately circumstanced. but, whatever the chief's spiritual condition may have been, it was not vouchsafed to him to witness the completion of his building scheme. he had long passed man's allotted span, and life's last stage was closing in upon him. he was in his eighty-first year, and was stricken with an internal complaint, the precise nature of which has not been ascertained, but which necessitated his taking much rest. his last days were therefore spent in enforced inactivity, and, while practically an invalid, his greatest delight was to recount to those capable of appreciating his narrative the stories of his early campaigns. the late bishop hadfield was especially favoured in this respect; and when he grew weary of the company of his own people (of whose intellectuality he had so small an opinion that he once remarked that they could talk of nothing better than dogs and pigs), he would send for the missionary, and regale him with stories of the past, told with a native force which aroused astonishment and admiration in the mind of his hearer. his descriptions of former fights were generally dramatic, frequently graphic, and always eloquent, for his vocabulary was rich in words and phrases which were far beyond the linguistic capacity of the natives by whom he was surrounded. it is to be regretted that these recitals have perished with the good bishop. until quite late in his life a vivid impression of them remained in his memory, and his constant readiness to refer to them confirms the claim that te rauparaha was a man of superior intellect, in so far as that term may be applied to a maori of his day. towards the end of november, , the complaint from which he was suffering begun to assume a more malignant form. on the th of that month he received a last visit from rangihaeata, and bade farewell to his erstwhile comrade in arms. three days later he was dead; the event was consummated for which colonel wakefield so devoutly wished when, ten years before, he wrote: "it will be a most fortunate thing for any settlement formed hereabouts when he dies, for with his life only will end his mischievous scheming and insatiable cupidity." had te rauparaha been asked to pen his opinion of the promoters of the new zealand company, he might have couched his judgment in much the same terms. but now that he was dead there was no need, and little desire, to keep open the floodgates of vituperation, and there were many who in his lifetime could find no kindly thought for him, but were willing to bury the bitterness of racial misunderstanding in the grave wherein the chief was so soon to be laid. the news that te rauparaha was dead spread like a prairie fire, and natives from all parts of both islands flocked to otaki to swell the weeping multitude who wailed around the bier of the dead chief. so altered, however, had the times become, that, though there was a feast, there was little _tangi_ of the barbarous sort, for his son tamahana, who was sincere and consistent in his emulation of european methods,[ ] discouraged in the native people, as far as possible, the indulgence in their time-honoured mourning customs, and, according to a contemporary authority, the whole proceedings were conducted "in a most decorous manner." the interment took place on rd december, the last resting-place being a spot chosen by his friend rangihaeata, within the church enclosure, and immediately in front of the unfinished building. a procession of fifteen hundred people followed the body to the grave, where the beautiful burial service of the anglican church was read by mr. ronaldson, the native teacher from whanganui. the coffin, made in the usual manner, was covered with black cloth, and the final chapter in the life of this remarkable man was written on the brass plate which adorned the casket:-- ko te rauparaha i mate i te o nowema [te rauparaha died on november , .] [ ] heke had asked the pertinent question, "is rauparaha to have all the credit of killing the _pakeha_?" [ ] "from what i know of the young lieutenant, i have no doubt he laid about him vigorously. even had burly rangihaeata confronted him, i should not have feared the result" (_mundy_). [ ] it was quite the orthodox thing for natives on opposite sides to hold intercourse with each other during war, and rauparaha, having many relations engaged with rangihaeata, would, in accordance with this custom, keep up a certain connection with them, and they with him. this, not being understood by the british authorities, was probably mistaken for treachery. [ ] afterwards mckillop pasha, an admiral of the khedive of egypt. [ ] grey, in his despatch to the secretary for the colonies, describing the seizure of te rauparaha, states that a "considerable quantity of arms and ammunition belonging to the disaffected portion of the ngati-toa tribe" was also seized, though he makes no attempt to explain what steps were taken under the exciting circumstances to ascertain who the precise owners were. [ ] on the voyage to wellington the prisoners were quartered in the workshop above the boilers. during the night a great disturbance was heard in this direction, and, on an examination being made, it was found that the room was full of steam. one of the boilers had sprung a leak, but the natives imagined that their vapour bath was an ingenious contrivance to compass their death. [ ] mr. percy smith is my authority for saying that rangihaeata did not actually compose this lament, as is generally supposed, but merely adapted it from a very old original. [ ] in october, , dr. dorsett, as chairman of the settlers' constitutional society, in a letter addressed to earl grey, complained of the inadequacy of te rauparaha's punishment. sir george grey replied by quoting two laments, of which this was one, "to show the light in which the natives regarded the punishment inflicted on him." [ ] pohi was one of the inferior chiefs arrested with te rauparaha and afterwards released. subsequently, grey discovered that this man was supposed to possess "important information." [ ] for the passive attitude adopted by many of the ngati-toa people some credit must be given to te rauparaha, who had already advised his son to go to the tribes and tell them to remain in peace. "i returned on shore," says tamahana, "and saw ngati-toa and rawhiri puaha. we told them the words of rauparaha respecting that which is good and living in peace. two hundred ngati-raukawa came to otaki. rangihaeata wished to destroy wellington and kill the _pakehas_ as satisfaction. i told them the words of te rauparaha, that they must put away foolish thoughts, live in peace, and cast away bad desires. they consented." [ ] ensign blackburn, who was a fine officer and a great favourite with the troops, was shot by a native secreted in a tree, and he in turn was almost immediately brought down by an artilleryman. [ ] under the chilling atmosphere of bleak winter the enthusiasm of our native allies soon began to cool and the vigour of their pursuit to slacken. power, in his _sketches in new zealand_, gives an amusing account of a big _korero_ held at otaki to decide whether or not they would continue the chase, in which he says: "rangihaeata's sister was present and addressed the meeting in favour of her absent brother, making at the same time some very unparliamentary remarks on the aggressions of the _pakehas_ and the want of pluck of the maoris in not resisting them, as her illustrious brother was doing. an old chief requested her to resume her seat, informing her at the same time that she was the silly sister of a sillier brother. he then put it to the meeting whether pigs and potatoes, warm fires and plenty of tobacco, were not better things than leaden bullets, edges of tomahawks, snow, rain, and empty bellies? all the former, he distinctly stated, were to be enjoyed on the plain; the latter they had had plentiful experience of in the mountains, and was it to be expected that they--and he confidently relied upon the good sense of the meeting--could be such fools as to hesitate for a moment? the applause of the old man's rhetoric was unanimous, and it received no slight help from the timely appearance of a procession bearing the materials for a week's feasting." [ ] lieutenant mckillop, writing on this point, says: "we never had any such decided advantage over him in our various skirmishes with his tribe as to dishearten him, and had we been unassisted by friendly maoris i have no doubt he would have held out and carried his point." [ ] while the _calliope_ was lying at wellington, te rauparaha was visited by his son tamahana, who has left it on record that, in that trying moment of his life, his father displayed a spirit of calm forgiveness towards those who had so treacherously deprived him of his liberty. his advice was: "son, go to your tribes and tell them to remain in peace. do not pay for my seizure with evil, only with that which is good. you must love the europeans. there was no just cause for my having been arrested by governor grey. i have not murdered any europeans, but i was arrested through the lies of the people. if i had been taken prisoner in battle, it would have been well, but i was unjustly taken." [ ] in his _travels in new zealand_, crawford remarks: "during the march to pahautanui, a maori named martin luther (wareaitu) was taken prisoner and was some months afterwards tried by court martial and hanged. i cannot help thinking that this was a blunder." dr. thomson is even more emphatic, and declares that "luther's death is a disgrace to governor grey's administration." [ ] visitors to modern otaki cannot fail to notice a tall pole erected near the roadside opposite the church. the totara tree out of which the pole was hewn was brought there at the outbreak of the maori war. it was intended as a flagstaff, but mr. hadfield persuaded the maoris to remain perfectly neutral and make no demonstration one way or the other. the tree lay for many years on the common until the rev. mr. mcwilliam induced the maoris to shape the tree into a tapering obelisk feet high, with the dates (the year when christianity was established at otaki) to (the year the obelisk was erected) going spirally round it from bottom to top, and so it became a memorial of the english church mission at otaki. it was first erected in the middle of the common, but in , that is, the fiftieth year of the mission, it was moved into the corner opposite the church gate. it is called by the maoris the "jubilee." there was a great gathering of maoris on that occasion, and fifty of them were clad in white and took part in the ceremony. the chief speaker was kereopa tukumaru, an old chief from kereru, who had been one of the first converts to christianity, and was now able to tell what great things the religion of christianity had done for the maoris. "this man," says mr. mcwilliam, "was the most consistent christian i have ever had the privilege of knowing." he was most industrious, but when not working he was reading his bible. he knew nearly the whole of it by heart. his grave may be seen near the kereru railway station on a small natural mound. it is an oblong raised vault, built of concrete, with a beautiful white marble angel standing over one end. [ ] colonel mundy mentions that a remarkably plausible report was circulating in wellington at this time, to the effect that rangihaeata--in order to prove himself a convert to civilisation--had signified his intention to kill and eat the aforesaid murderer, and then "go into the best society." [ ] as illustrating rangihaeata's intolerance of europeans, crawford, in his _travels in new zealand_, mentions that when he visited fraser's whaling station on mana in , he saw sitting in the corner of the room a large maori wrapped in his mat. "he listened to the conversation, but said nothing. at last, as if displeased, he uttered a hideous and prolonged grunt, and rose to his feet: i was struck with his height and imposing, although savage, appearance--he grunted again and walked out of the room without speaking. this was rangihaeata, the great follower or coadjutor of te rauparaha--the ajax of his tribe, as the other was the ulysses." [ ] as illustrating the feeling of the time, we may mention that very great indignation was expressed in wellington because bishop selwyn had taken te rauparaha to the house of the rev. mr. cole, a clergyman of wellington, to stay there during a visit to the city. major richmond, the superintendent, and the sub-protector, mr. forsaith, had gone to porirua and provided for his safe escort to wellington. the bishop had publicly refused to shake hands with rangihaeata, showing to the natives his horror of the massacre at the wairau on every occasion. but he refused to recognise te rauparaha as responsible for it, and did no more than his clear duty in providing for his safety on this occasion. the outcry raised against him was bitter, but was quietly ignored by him (_brett's "early history of new zealand"_). [ ] the church, which is a noble specimen of native architecture, was built under the supervision of archdeacon hadfield and rev. h. williams. it was commenced in and opened in . its length is feet, its breadth feet, and its height feet. the ridge-pole is hewn out of a solid totara tree, feet long. [ ] "te rauparaha was not baptized, and, although his son wished the burial service of the church to be used at his funeral, the minister did not feel himself justified in doing so; however, a lay member of the church missionary society from whanganui, opportunely passing through the place, read the service over him, and thus terminated the eventful life of the new zealand warrior" (_rev. richard taylor_). [ ] the late sir william fox in his _six colonies of new zealand_. [ ] in , tamihana te rauparaha and his wife ruta (ruth) lived by themselves about half-way between otaki and waikanae on his sheep run, but he now and again came to his town house in otaki and stayed a few weeks. he was a fine, handsome man, tall and stout, but active and mentally energetic. he always dressed well, and in cleanliness and neatness was a thorough english gentleman. he had been home to england and presented to the queen. he never forgot what he saw there, and he wished to be considered an english gentleman. for that reason he lost influence with his tribe. he held aloof from _tangis_ and other maori feasts, but was most hospitable and generous to europeans. his wife was a most ladylike and charming woman. she was not so well educated as tamihana, but for all that she had the manners and taste of an english lady. she died several years before him, and he erected a small marble stone over her grave; but when he died, and was laid by her side, no monument of any kind was erected to his memory; the cast-iron fence, which had been broken accidentally, was not even repaired. the maoris did not care much for him, because he was too civilised and _pakeha_-like for them, so they made no general mourning at his death. in his youth, tamihana te rauparaha and matene te whiwhi had journeyed all the way to the bay of islands to beg for a missionary, and in response to their request mr. hadfield (who was afterwards bishop of wellington and primate) came back with them to otaki, and lived amongst them and taught them christianity for thirty years. the graves of tamihana te rauparaha and his wife are enclosed with an iron railing. on the tombstone of the wife is the inscription: "_te ohatanga tenei mo ruta te rauparaha wahine o tamihana te rauparaha, i mate ki otaki i te o nga ra o hurae, ._" chapter ix weighed in the balance te rangihaeata survived his uncle by seven years, living during this time quietly at poroutawhao. though ceasing his violent opposition to the occupation of the land by the settlers, he still clung to his refusal to traffic in the native estate, either with individuals or with the government. almost immediately after the close of the war, lieutenant-governor eyre and the rev. richard taylor penetrated through the bush and swamps which surrounded poroutawhao, and met the chief in the very heart of his stronghold. he was then, says mr. taylor, an old man with a head as white as the top of tongariro, and a spirit somewhat resembling that active volcano, always fuming. his white hair strongly contrasted with his bronzed features and highly tattooed countenance. the missionary thus describes the retreat in which they found him, and the reception they met with:-- "a long, low, narrow strip of land, running through deep swamp, led to his retreat; the name of the place aptly describes it, being a cork, or stoppage, to war, and few would have liked to draw it out. the _pa_ was on a mound, the only one in the vicinity, and strongly fortified in the native style, with thick, lofty posts deeply sunk in the ground, and bound together with a _huahua_, or connecting pole, running round at a height of about ten feet. inside the outer fence there was another, behind which the defenders could post themselves, and take aim through the outer one. the _pa_ was divided into a number of small courts, each equally well defended, and connected by very narrow passages. we found the chief with his wives and his head men assembled in the chief court, or _marae_, sitting on mats in front of his house. fresh fern was strewed on the ground, and new mats laid on it for us; we were received with great respect, and welcomed with a loud _haeremai_: we sat down on the chief's right hand, and conversed on various subjects, until we were invited to enter a neighbouring house, where no one followed us, except a neatly dressed and good-looking lady, who was appointed to wait upon us according to maori etiquette: there was a kind of table formed of two boxes, one placed on the other, with a new red blanket placed over it, and a form similarly covered in regal style. on the table was placed a dish of good fresh-baked cakes, another containing sugar, a knife, spoon, and two basins, one nearly allied to a wash-hand basin in size. the lady then brought a tea-kettle, and filled our cups with an infusion of mint, which she called tea. the wash-hand basin was, of course, placed before the representative of majesty, who viewed with dismay its enormous capacity, which, being given him from respect, he could not well avoid draining to the bottom. after enjoying the governor's perplexity, when the lady left the room, i emptied the contents of our bowls into a calabash, from which our natives were drinking; our repast being ended, we returned to the chief and sat by his side. the governor requested me to ask the chief to sell some land, which i respectfully declined doing. he then attempted to do so himself: at first he was not understood, but when the chief comprehended what he meant, he gave a savage look of defiance, thrusting out his tongue and rolling about his eyes in such a way, that his excellency, who had never seen such a display before, stared in amazement, and evidently felt anything but at ease. it need not be said that the land negotiations were speedily terminated, and we were soon threading our way back along rangihaeata's swamp-girt road." not less interesting was the experience of lord charles butler and mr. carnegie, two officers of the _calliope_, who, upon the cessation of hostilities, conceived the adventurous idea of visiting the chief in his lair at poroutawhao. starting from wellington, accompanied by lieutenant servantes of the th, who during the war had acted as interpreter with the government troops, and tamahana te rauparaha, they experienced considerable difficulty in pushing their way across the country to the place of rangihaeata's retreat. by dint of perseverance they at length reached the borders of the swamp surrounding the small hillock on which the _pa_ was built, and, meeting some of the natives there, they sent them on to the chief to ascertain if he would be prepared to receive them. a messenger soon returned to say that lord charles and tamahana might come on, but that if ewie (lieutenant servantes) attempted to do so, he would be shot. rangihaeata had persuaded himself that servantes had been acting the spy in the late proceedings against him. this impression, which was quite erroneous, doubtless arose from the fact that this officer had been a great deal in the company of the natives before the outbreak of hostilities, that he was thoroughly conversant with their language, customs, and haunts, and consequently was frequently acting in conjunction with the native allies when no other europeans were near. there being no opportunity to offer explanations which might remove the chief's prejudice, servantes deemed it prudent to respect rangihaeata's mandate, and remained where he was, the others proceeding to the _pa_. as they approached, sounds and evidences of excitement, which they were at a loss to understand, greeted them, and as they drew nearer, several armed natives came out of the _pa_, pointing their muskets at mr. carnegie, at the same time abusing him with a tornado of picturesque native epithets. this hostile demonstration arose from the fact that they had mistaken the naval officer for servantes; but, when the guides had silenced the clamour sufficiently to obtain a hearing, the necessary explanations were made, and the party was led into the _pa_. they found rangihaeata leaning against his _whare_, and taking aim at the gateway with his gun, having fully determined to end the days of the supposed spy if he dared to enter the _pa_. the introductions were, however, satisfactory, and, putting away his musket, he gave his hand to his guests, whereupon his tribe likewise disarmed themselves, and prepared to extend hospitality to the visitors. lord charles opened the proceedings diplomatically, by presenting rangihaeata with a few pounds of tobacco and a red blanket; and, as soon as the chief had filled his pipe with the fragrant weed, and adjusted the blanket to his brawny shoulders, he sat down and entered into a most amiable conversation with the _pakehas_, for whose refreshment he took care that food should be brought. he plied his visitors with many questions concerning te rauparaha and those natives who were prisoners with him, and closely inquired of those europeans with whose names he was acquainted, making special reference to lieutenant mckillop, of whose conduct in the war he had formed an excellent opinion. he was also exceedingly complimentary to lord charles, of whom he said he had received very flattering reports, but he was equally regretful of the conduct of his own people in deserting his standard, and spoke bitterly of his experiences since he had abandoned his _pa_ at porirua. these misfortunes did not, however, detract in the least from his hospitality to his visitors. he begged them to remain with him until next day, in order that he might have the opportunity of killing a pig and regaling them with due splendour on the morrow. this kind invitation they modestly declined, and, after explaining that their visit was of purely a private nature, and not one which would warrant them in carrying back any message to the authorities, they took their leave of the chief, whom they have described as being particularly dirty, but a fine handsome man. by his winning ways and the generous use of presents, governor grey several times induced rangihaeata to leave his retreat at poroutawhao for the purpose of holding conferences with him; and when he believed that he had sufficiently ingratiated himself into the good opinion of the chief, he ventured to propose the sale to the government of the waikanae district. "it would have been the subject for an artist," says one writer, "to picture the indignant look of the chief as he flatly and rudely refused, telling the governor to be content with what he had already got. 'you have had porirua, ahuriri, wairarapa, whanganui, rangitikei, and the whole of the middle island given up to you, and still you are not content. we are driven up into a corner, and yet you covet that also.'" but, though his overtures were thus indignantly spurned and rejected, the _mana_ of the governor did not suffer any diminution in the estimation of the chief, who to the end of his days continued to regard grey with that chivalrous respect which is extended by one warrior to another whom he deems to be worthy of his steel. in , while still residing at poroutawhao, rangihaeata was stricken with measles in a particularly malignant form, but, with his characteristic recklessness of consequences, he refused to take the ordinary precautions to facilitate his recovery. though still in a high state of fever, he decided to visit otaki, and ordered his groom to drive him thither. when passing the waikawa river, he thought to abate the fever by taking a cold bath; and, stopping the buggy, he plunged into the river, from which he emerged with the hand of death upon him. he was taken on to otaki, where his malady rapidly increased, and two days afterwards he passed away. his body was taken back, at the head of an enormous procession, to poroutawhao, where he was buried beside his wife, the _tangi_ in his case being marked by all the barbarous features of native mourning, interspersed with not a few of the prevailing european vices. when in the prime of life, rangihaeata stood over six feet in height, a handsome man, magnificently built. like his more notorious uncle, he too had features of aquiline mould, lit up by a pair of piercing black eyes, which instantly flashed out their resentment on any real or fancied insult. he was exceedingly jealous of his _mana_, and quick to blaze into a fit of indignation at any word or act which he might construe to be a reflection upon his authority as a chief. that authority he frequently asserted by levying toll upon the settlers and whalers, but never in any case from pure cupidity, or where he did not, by maori law, have some good and valid claim to _utu_. against these extortions, as they were pleased to regard them, the whalers appealed to such authority[ ] as they could find in the islands; and when they were unable to obtain what they deemed to be justice in that quarter, they took the law into their own hands, and tried to rid themselves of their tormentor by means of the poison-cup. frequent attempts were made to poison him at the whaling stations; and we are credibly informed that, on one occasion, he was induced to swallow a pint of raw rum heavily drugged with arsenic. but, in their excess of zeal to compass the chief's death, they had been led to apply too great a quantity of poison, and instead of its acting as they anticipated, it merely acted as an emetic. if this statement be well-grounded, or if the whalers were as major bunbury described them to be, when he visited mana in order to procure rangihaeata's signature to the treaty of waitangi, it is not to be expected that such dissolute associates would afford the chief much light and leading in the path of rectitude. the reckless disregard by the settlers and whalers of the sanctity of native custom was responsible for many of the misunderstandings, which they have debited against rangihaeata for malice and mischief; while no attempt has been made to exonerate him on the ground that he probably saw the act only from the point of view of his native origin and upbringing. he was in spirit and in the flesh a maori, and gloried in it, openly professing a detestation for the _pakeha_ and all that he had brought to the country. he affected a supreme contempt for the luxuries of the white man; but the weakness of human nature had blinded him to the inconsistency of which he was daily guilty in acquiring and gratifying an uncontrollable love of tobacco and rum. when under the influence of liquor he was querulous and violent; but his drinking indiscretions were generally redeemed as far as possible by the payment of ample compensation, for, savage though he was, rangihaeata was not destitute of a liberal sense of justice.[ ] this he applied to himself as rigorously as to others. when he was flying before the troops in the horokiwi valley, he frequently inquired if those who were hottest in pursuit were relatives of the victims of his anger at the wairau; for to him "a life for a life" was an inexorable law, to which even he must bow, if the friends of the massacred men should overtake him. in the cause of what he believed to be the liberty of his people he did and dared much, enduring intense hardships for the maintenance of a principle, and when we charge him with harbouring criminals and refusing to deliver them over to justice, our resentment against his conduct may be mitigated by the reflection that his loyalty to these misguided friends was not so much due to a sympathy with crime, as it was a practical protest against what he believed to be their unfair treatment by the new zealand company. rangihaeata stoutly resisted all attempts to convert him to the christian faith, clinging to his heathen gods as closely as he clung to his antipathy to european settlement. his convictions on these points were deep-rooted and irrevocable; and he died as he lived, a savage, guilty of much bloodshed, yet not altogether devoid of nobility. though he never rose to the level of te rauparaha as a warrior or a statesman, he was, nevertheless, a strong man amongst his people, opposed alike to the missionary and the settler, but only because he saw with a prophetic eye that the growing ascendancy of the _pakeha_ meant the ultimate subjugation of the maori race. viewed from this standpoint--the only one equitable to rangihaeata--his policy of hostility cannot be characterised as that of a stubborn rebel, but may with greater justice be regarded as the policy of a patriot. the character and personal attributes of te rauparaha have been the subject of much conflicting comment, and the pen-portraits of him which have come down to us have consequently varied, in sympathy with the mood or interest of his critics. in physical appearance, all, however, agree that he was short of stature and aquiline of feature;[ ] and, though at times obsequious in manner, he was equally capable of displaying an imperious dignity of deportment which marked him as a man accustomed to wield unquestioned authority. while in repose, the general expression of his countenance was placid and thoughtful; but when under the influence of excitement or agitation, a receding forehead, a furtive glance, and tusk-like teeth, revealed by a curling lip, detracted considerably from his impressive appearance. though upwards of sixty years of age when he came into contact with the europeans (for he claimed to have been a boy when cook visited the country), he was still possessed of a wiry frame, and was capable of exerting great physical strength and activity, his limbs being straight, his step elastic, and his athletic vigour little diminished by age. perhaps the most graphic description given of the chief is that penned by mr. jerningham wakefield, whose cameo-like portrait may be accepted as faithful, and typical of others given by contemporary writers of equal integrity, if of inferior literary skill. wakefield saw te rauparaha for the first time on the morning after the battle of kuititanga, from which the chief had just returned; and to the excitement of that event may be attributed the agitation observable in his manner, the "wandering watchful glances" he threw around him, and the air of "evident fear and distrust," all of which contributed so forcefully to the creation of an unfavourable impression on the minds of his visitors. "as we leaped from our boat, he advanced to meet us, and, with looks of evident fear and distrust, eagerly sought our hand to exchange the missionary greeting. during the whole of the ensuing conversation he seemed uneasy and insecure in his own opinion, and the whalers present described this behaviour as totally at variance with his usual boastfulness and arrogance. he made us a pious speech about the battle, saying that he had had no part in it, and that he was determined to give no encouragement to fighting. he agreed to come on board the next day, and departed to one of the neighbouring islands. he is rather under the average height, and very dignified and stately in his manner, although on this occasion it was much affected by the wandering and watchful glances which he frequently threw around him, as though distrustful of every one. although at least sixty years old, he might have passed for a much younger man, being hale and stout, and his hair but slightly grizzled. his features are aquiline and striking; but an overhanging upper lip and a retreating forehead, on which his eyebrows wrinkled back when he lifted his deep-sunken eyelids and penetrating eyes, produced a fatal effect on the good prestige arising from his first appearance. the great chieftain, the man able to lead others, and habituated to wield authority, was clear at first sight; but the savage ferocity of the tiger, who would not scruple to use any means for the attainment of that power, the destructive ambition of a selfish despot, were plainly discernible on a nearer view." such was the man who, in or about the year of bonaparte's death, began to play the napoleonic _rôle_ in new zealand.[ ] like the corsican conqueror, to whom his life affords an interesting historical parallel, he derived no especial advantage from hereditary lineage, for his place in the maori peerage was only sufficient to lift him above the native plutocracy. in his rise to eminence birth played but a minor part, his path to fortune being carved out by innate enterprise, inherent courage, wonderful executive capacity, and that dash of political unscrupulousness which is seldom absent from leaders of men. from his youth up he displayed masterful qualities of mind,[ ] which infallibly lift their possessor above the level of mediocrity, and when such qualities are found, whether in savage or civilised society, the measure of success attained is only limited by the degree of opportunity offered. te rauparaha's escapades as a boy reveal his natural bravery; his care as a young man for the generous entertainment of his visitors indicates an appreciation of the value of a good social impression; his exertions to master the art of war were sustained by a clear recognition of the fact that authority in an age of strife was impossible without military success; and his ambition to furnish his people with guns was just as clearly the result of the knowledge that military success was impossible without a weapon as efficient as that wielded by the enemy. it was not any doubt of the bravery or fidelity of his people that induced his anxiety regarding their safety at kawhia, but a conviction that, unless they could procure muskets and fight waikato on equal terms, their doom was sealed. but there was also that in him which made him hunger for conquest just as keenly as he desired to evade being conquered; and if the discovery of an escape from his dilemma at kawhia was accidental, he was, as a rule, careful to leave nothing to accident in the execution of his fully matured plans. the migration from kawhia to kapiti was a bold and daring conception, fraught as it was with difficulties of transport, peril to old and young, and, more than all, with the certainty that every inch of the way would have to be either bargained for or fought for. yet it is the manner in which the idea was executed rather than the idea itself that calls for our admiration. it was characterised by wise planning, discreet forethought, accurate calculation, clever diplomacy, skilful strategy; and, when all else failed, there were the strong right arm and the courageous heart to compel compliance, if compulsion were needed. that te rauparaha was blessed with abundant confidence in his own prowess is demonstrated by the lightheartedness with which he assumed the rank and responsibilities of the dying hape tuarangi; and it was just this spirit of cheerful self-sufficiency which inspired others with that unbounded trust and confidence in him, which enabled him to lead his people away from the ties of their ancestral home, and induce them to share with him the dangers and uncertainty of a great enterprise. it is at least a tribute to te rauparaha's talents as a leader that, so long as the maori remained unchanged by european influences, he continued to receive the loyal support and unfailing allegiance of his people. he was always popular with the masses, otherwise he could not have accomplished a tithe of what he did. no criticism of te rauparaha is sound which represents him as wholly bad. there is in human nature a rough method of arriving at what is right; and no public, whether savage or civilised, will for long tolerate, much less venerate, a leader whose only policy is his own aggrandisement. the undisputed position which te rauparaha enjoyed in the affections of his own people, the fidelity with which they followed him, till the _mana_ of the chief was superseded by the ascendancy of the _pakeha_, afford proof that they, at all events, were able to discern some meritorious qualities in him, even though not endowed with the higher ethical vision of a modern critic. it has been suggested that, in after years, when dissensions arose amongst the tribes which acknowledged his chieftainship, the revolt was due to shattered confidence, this shaken faith being traceable to a belief that he was treacherously plotting with ngati-raukawa to compass the expulsion of ngati-awa from waikanae. but it must not be forgotten that, by this period, the advent of the _pakeha_ had created a new atmosphere around the maori, and the policy of the missionary in extolling the convert to the disparagement of the chief had, in a measure, destroyed the power of the people's leaders. and, in the general decline of hereditary authority, te rauparaha's _mana_ had suffered with the rest. it had therefore become more difficult--and it may have been impossible--for him to quell internecine strife by the peremptory means which he would have employed in the days of his absolute supremacy. no candid review of the chief's career can, however, fail to take cognisance of the fact that his methods frequently gave rise to suspicions of deepest treachery, the doubtful honour of these proceedings having long since passed into song and proverb. in common with all successful leaders, he possessed the virtue of keeping his own counsel. he made his plans, nursed them in his own mind, and, in the fullness of time, gave his orders accordingly--a secretive habit which gave origin to the saying: "no one knew his thoughts, whether they were good or evil." this reticence has, by some writers, been given an interpretation which does not rightly belong to it: because he was reserved, therefore he was treacherous. such a deduction does not necessarily sum up the whole position. but, even when this has been admitted, there still remains the imputation of treachery, left by the derisive songs and proverbs, to be either admitted or combated. the unblushing apologist for te rauparaha might conceivably argue that these chants were but the creation of prejudiced or malignant minds; but the charges of deception, amounting to treachery, are too frequently reiterated to be rejected as altogether groundless. barbarous though the maori was, he had a code of honour which could not be lightly violated; and when a member of a tribe was killed, it was not the fact that he was dead which agitated his friends, but the circumstances of his dying. "was his death _tika_?[ ] had it been compassed in fair fight? or was it _kohuru_?"[ ] these were questions always demanding a satisfactory answer, for the laws governing life and death were well defined. and, judged by these laws, it is impossible to hold te rauparaha blameless of the crime of treachery. the killing of the rangitane chief, toki-poto, the capture of the hotu-iti _pa_, the seizure of tamaiharanui, and possibly many another similar deed not so specifically recorded, were all acts of treachery, and serve to dim the lustre of his larger achievements conducted strictly in accordance with maori military law. nevertheless, it is possible that there has been much exaggeration in relation to this phase of the chief's character. when his troubles with the new zealand company began to develop, and more particularly after the wairau massacre, it became the mission of a section of the european community to represent him as the incarnation of all that was cruel, treacherous, and unspeakably wicked. in this connection it becomes especially dangerous to accept unreservedly the judgment of the wakefields, who were early prejudiced against him by his opposition to their colonising methods, and were afterwards deeply embittered towards him by the death of their relative at the wairau. impartiality under such circumstances is almost too much to expect; and it is only just to te rauparaha to say that they availed themselves fully of their special opportunities for disseminating a prejudice against him, so that a view so long uncontradicted can hardly now be eradicated. in no respect has the reputation of te rauparaha suffered more from bitter hostility than in connection with the wairau massacre. and we cannot wonder; for at the time of its occurrence he had arrayed against him a galaxy of literary talent, such as the colony has never seen since, and day by day these wielders of facile pens fed with scholarly vituperation the flames of racial animosity, which were already burning at white heat. they spoke of murder; they clamoured for revenge; and all who failed to see as they saw were exposed to the darts of their merciless sarcasm. but, with the softening influence of time, men's hearts have mellowed, stormy passions have subsided, and we of this day are able to review the facts with more sober judgment than was possible to those who lived and wrote in the heated atmosphere of the time. in this unhappy quarrel it must now be accepted as an established fact that the new zealand company were the aggressors. the wairau valley may, or may not, have been included in their original purchases; but captain wakefield knew that this point was being contested by the natives. he knew further that the dispute had been by them referred to mr. spain, and therefore no reasonable excuse can be advanced for his attempt to seize the valley while its title was still subject to judicial investigation. te rauparaha's attitude in the early stages of the trouble amounted to no more than a temperate protest. he personally interviewed captain wakefield at nelson; he was as conciliatory in requesting the surveyors to leave the field as he was decided that they must go; he calmed rangihaeata's violence at the conference with mr. tuckett; and, as mr. spain's final decision was fatal to the company's claim, the charge of arson preferred against him dwindles into a legal fiction. the conciliatory tone thus manifested by the chief was equally marked in the more acute stage, which arose at tua marina. while the magistrate fumed and raged, the chief stood perfectly calm. he more than once begged that time should be taken to talk over the case; but the mad impetuosity of thompson would brook no delay in determining a cause the merits of which he, the judge, had already prejudged in his own mind. for the precipitation of the conflict which followed, who shall say that the fault was te rauparaha's? it was neither his hand nor his command which put the brand to the bush, nor does it appear that it was ever within his power to control the outburst of human passion which flamed up upon the firing of the first shot. what part he took in the fight is uncertain. it has never been suggested that he bore arms, and therefore we may assume that he was an excited spectator, rather than an active participant in the mêlée. that he was early on the brow of the hill, after the retreat had ceased, would appear to be beyond doubt; but his first act on reaching the europeans was to shake hands with them, a proceeding which seemed to imply that, even after all that had passed, his friendship had not been irretrievably lost. indeed, there is nothing to lead us to suppose that he harboured any thoughts of retaliation, until rangihaeata violently demanded _utu_ for the death of te rongo. this demand placed te rauparaha in a serious dilemma. against any feeling of friendship for the europeans which may still have lingered in his heart, he had now to set a claim which was wholly in accord with native custom; a right, in fact, which had been recognised by his forefathers for more centuries than we can with certainty name; a feature of maori justice supported by ages of precedent, and which, imbibed from infancy, had become a part of his nature. this was undoubtedly the crisis of the tragedy. had te rauparaha decided against rangihaeata, there would have been no massacre; but where his detractors are unfair to him is in appearing to expect that he should have suddenly risen superior to his maori nature, and, in place of allowing his actions to be governed by maori law, that he--a heathen--should have viewed the attempt to seize his land and his person, together with the death of te rongo, in the forgiving spirit of a christian. no ethiop was ever asked to change his skin more rapidly; and if te rauparaha failed in the performance of the miracle, he only failed when success was morally impossible to him. in the massacre itself he had no share; and, beyond the fact that, under intense natural excitement, he gave a tacit consent to rangihaeata's deed, he appears to have stood outside it. of his relations with the whalers, accounts vary. if we accept the wakefield view, we must believe that by them he was heartily detested and distrusted. that he was acquisitive to the point of aggression is possible; that he was often overbearing towards them may be equally true, for these are characteristics frequently seen in the powerful savage; but there are also instances recorded in which he showed a ready generosity and a strict sense of justice towards the whaling community. "the whalers and traders, who had the best opportunity of being intimately acquainted with him, and that, too, at a time when his power to injure was greatest, invariably spoke of him as ever having been the white man's friend. he always placed the best he had before them, and in no instance have i heard of his doing any one of them an injury. speaking of him to an old whaler, he said emphatically that te rauparaha never let the white man who needed want anything he could give, whether food or clothing; in fact, his natural sagacity told him that it was his interest to make common cause with the europeans, for it was through them that he acquired the sinews of war, guns, powder, and shot, and everything else that he required."[ ] the impartiality with which he held the balance between the two races may be gathered from the following incident: a whaleboat had left waikanae to proceed to kapiti, the crew taking with them a native, who sat in the bow. on the journey over the maori managed to secrete beneath his mat the small hatchet which the whalers used to cut the line, and was quietly walking off with it when the boat reached the island. before he had gone many steps one of the crew whispered to the headsman what had happened, whereupon that worthy picked up the harpoon and drove it straight through the maori's back, killing him on the spot. the native population was at once thrown into a state of uproar and fury, threatening dire vengeance upon the whalers, but te rauparaha quelled the disturbance in an instant, and, after inquiring into its cause, walked away, declaring that the native had only met with his deserts. towards his native enemies te rauparaha was unquestionably merciless and cruel, though not more so, perhaps, than was sanctioned by the spirit of the times in which he lived. yet that he was not wholly incapable of admiration for a worthy opponent is shown by his seeking out and sparing te ata o tu, the ngai-tahu warrior, who fought so bravely against him at kaiapoi. even in this case there are persons who affect to believe that self-interest rather than chivalry may have been the moving impulse in his conduct, for he possibly counted upon so skilful a fighter being invaluable to him in his northern troubles. but surely we can afford to be magnanimous enough to concede to so fine an example of generosity a less mercenary motive?[ ] though relentless to a degree towards those tribes who came between him and his ambitions, it must always be remembered that his ruthlessness is not to be judged from the christian standpoint. his enormities, which were neither few nor small, were those of a savage, born and bred in an atmosphere into which no spirit of divine charity had ever entered. compared with the excesses practised in civilised warfare by such champions of the cross as cortés and the duke of alva, his deeds of darkness become less repugnant, if not altogether pardonable. the attitude which he adopted towards the european was in exact opposition to that assumed by te rangihaeata. he welcomed rather than resented the coming of the white man, although he found reason to protest against the methods employed by the new zealand company in acquiring land on which to settle them. nor in this respect can it be said that his objections were captious or ill-founded; in fact, with the exception of the hutt dispute, the commissioner's decisions were invariably a vindication of his contentions. some doubt has necessarily been cast upon his loyalty to the government (which he accepted when he signed the treaty of waitangi), by virtue of the fact that he was seized and held captive because of his supposed infidelity. there are those with whom it is only necessary to accuse in order to condemn. in this case accusation carried condemnation with it, but condemnation without proof of guilt is injustice. whatever the measure of te rauparaha's duplicity may have been, the governor conspicuously failed to do more than suspect him, and as conspicuously failed to bring the chief face to face with his accusers. it was never proved, nor was any attempt ever made to prove before a court of competent jurisdiction, that te rauparaha had held communication with the enemy. even if he had so communicated, an easy explanation might have been found in the native practice, under which individuals in opposing forces frequently visited each other during the progress of hostilities. te rauparaha had many friends with the rebels, and it would appear perfectly natural to him to hold friendly correspondence with them, whilst himself maintaining an attitude of strict neutrality. considering the contemptuous disregard which many british officials displayed towards rites and customs held sacred by the maori, it is not to be expected that they would trouble to understand, or try to appreciate, this subtlety in the native character. and so, what was to the maori a well-established and common custom, was by them translated into treachery, for which te rauparaha was made captive in a manner which leaves us but little right to talk of open and honourable tactics. his conduct while a captive on board the _calliope_ appears to have been exemplary enough, and he succeeded in impressing those with whom he came into contact by his quick perception, particularly of anything meant to turn him into ridicule, of which he was most sensitive. he frequently became much excited and very violent, and at other times, when talking of his misfortunes, he would become deeply moved, and the tears would run down his wrinkled cheeks. it is recorded that he was very grateful for any kindness shown him; and when lieutenant thorpe left the ship to return to england he expressed the most intense sorrow, crying the whole day, and repeating the officer's name in piteous accents. this, it was noted, was not merely a temporary affection. when, a year later, the _calliope_ was leaving the new zealand station, he sent his favourite a very handsome mat, begging the officer by whom it was sent to tell lieutenant thorpe how glad he would be to see his face once more, and how well he would treat him now that he was free. similarly, when lieutenant mckillop was proceeding home, te rauparaha took him aside and entreated him to go, on reaching england, and convey to queen victoria his regard for her and express his keen desire to see her, only his great age and the length of the voyage standing between him and the consummation of that desire. "he hoped, however, she would believe that he would always be a great and true friend of hers, and use all his influence with his countrymen to make them treat her subjects well, and that, when he became free again, there would be no doubt as to his loyalty, as he would himself, old as he was, be the first to engage in a war against any who should offend her or the governor, of whom he always spoke with the greatest respect." during his captivity the news of the outbreak of the war in the sutlej reached the colony, and, noticing the excitement on board the _calliope_, he asked to be informed of the contents of the papers giving details of the battles. in this subject he maintained the liveliest interest; and, when he had sufficiently grasped the details, he was perceptibly impressed by the magnitude of the armies engaged and the tremendous resources of the empire, about which he, in common with all natives, had been distinctly incredulous. that his release was marked by no exhibition of resentment is at least something to his credit, and the ease with which he afterwards adapted himself to the strangely altered order of things is proof that his nature was capable of absorbing higher ideals than are taught in savage philosophy, although it is doubtful if he ever reached the purer heights attained by a clear conception of the beatitudes of the christian religion. in the life of te rauparaha there is much that is revolting and incapable of palliation. but, always remembering his savage environment, we must concede to him the possession of qualities which, under more enlightened circumstances, would have contributed as fruitfully to the uplifting of mankind as they did to its destruction. his superiority over his fellows was mental rather than physical; his success lay in his intellectual alertness, his originality, strategic foresight, and executive capacity. he was probably a better diplomat than he was a general, but he had sufficient of the military instinct to make him a conqueror. and if, in the execution of his conquests, the primary object of which was to find a safe home for his people, the weaker tribes went down, history was but repeating amongst the maoris in new zealand the story which animate nature is always and everywhere proclaiming, and which, in the cold language of the philosophers, is called "the survival of the fittest." [ ] "on shore, i was much tormented by the zeal of some european sailors, who appeared to be a drunken set of lawless vagabonds, belonging to the different whaling establishments in the neighbourhood. the only respectable person amongst them was a stock-keeper in charge of some sheep and horned cattle, and the captain of a whaling vessel ahead of us. i asked the sailors, who were complaining that some of the property taken was theirs, if they had any specific charge to make against rangihaeata, who was the most powerful chief in the neighbourhood. however, i could get nothing from them but vague declarations against native chiefs in general, to which i replied that the fault was probably as much on their side as on that of the natives. the old chief, who was present, appeared to understand the drift of the conversation, for he went into his hut and brought out several written testimonials of good conduct; on which i desired mr. williams to explain to him how much i was gratified in perusing them, and that i trusted that under the queen's government he would continue equally to deserve them: that he would find the government just and even-handed, and that punishment would follow evil-doers, whether they were natives or europeans. to which he replied, 'kapai,' apparently much satisfied" (_major bunbury_). [ ] "on saturday (november , ), rangihaeata and a party of his followers paid a last visit to te rauparaha. at the ohau ferry rangihaeata demanded some spirits from the temporary ferryman (the regular one being absent). on being refused, he knocked him down, and then helped himself, but afterwards tendered _utu_ for the violence offered and the spirits taken" (new zealand _spectator_, december , ). [ ] in an enclosure opposite the maori church at otaki there stands upon a pedestal a marble bust of te rauparaha. the bust was procured in sydney by tamihana te rauparaha at a cost of £ , and the likeness, which is said to be a very faithful one, was copied from a portrait painted by mr. beetham. because te rauparaha had not become even "nominally christian," mr. hadfield refused to permit the erection of the bust within the church enclosure, and for two years it lay upon the common, packed in the case in which it had come from sydney. subsequently, mr. mcwilliam, the native missionary, collected a few pounds with which to purchase the pedestal, and had the bust erected where it now stands. on the authority of dieffenbach and angas, it is said that te rauparaha possessed the physical curiosity of six toes on each foot. [ ] it is estimated that during the course of te rauparaha's campaigns no less than , lives were sacrificed. [ ] mr. spain, in one of his reports, has said: "rauparaha is the most talented native i have seen in new zealand. he is mild and gentlemanly in his manner and address; a most powerful speaker; and his argumentative faculties are of a first rate order." "he must have been a most powerful man, and, if his mind had been cultivated, would, no doubt, have been a most clever one. as it is, he seldom gets the worst of an argument about his own proceedings, puts such searching questions and gives such evasive answers, that he puzzled the best of our logicians on many occasions when endeavouring to get him to give a decided answer about his not giving us the assistance he promised when we were trying to capture the murderers from rangihaeata" (_mckillop_). [ ] correct, according to prescribed rules. [ ] treachery, amounting to murder. [ ] rev. richard taylor. [ ] "i must not omit to mention that, cruel and bloodthirsty as this man appears to have been, he must occasionally have made exceptions, as one of his slaves voluntarily accompanied him into captivity on board the _calliope_, waiting on him and paying him every attention for a period of eighteen months, knowing from the beginning that he was quite free to leave him at any time. he was offered a rating on the ship's books, but this he refused, saying there would be no one to wait on the old man if he was otherwise employed" (_mckillop_). list of te rauparaha's wives and children { = marore (ngati-toa) { | (the trap). { +---------------+-------------+-------+ { | | | | { uira. ranga-hounga-riri. tutari. poaka. { { = kahui-rangi { | (stranger). { +---+------------+ { | | { hononga atua { (landslip). (god). { { = ranga-ta-moana (ngati-toa) { | (day of taking at sea). { +-------+-------------------+ { | | { whetu-kai-tangata puta-kino { (man-eating star). (note of evil). { { = hope-nui (ngati-toa) { | (big waist). { +---+-----------------+ { | | rauparaha { motu-hia te malata (leaf of { (cut off). (carry on a litter). paraha). { { = akau (tu-hou-rangi) { | (sea-coast). { +------+------------------------+ { | | { tamu-whakairia tamihana rauparaha { (king lifted up). (thompson leaf of paraha). { { = kutia (tu-hou-rangi) { | (nipped together). { +--+ { | { paranihia { (frances). { { = kahu-kino (ngatirangitihi) { | (evil garment). { +---------+ { | { rangi houngi-riri tuarua { (day of battle, second). { { = kahu-taiki (ngati-toa) { (garment of wicker work). [illustration: map of new zealand] unwin brothers, limited, the gresham press, woking and london. old new zealand: being incidents of native customs and character in the old times. by a pakeha maori. london: smith, elder and co., , cornhill m.dccc.lxiii. [_the right of translation is reserved._] preface. to the english reader, and to most of those who have arrived in new zealand within the last thirty years, it may be necessary to state that the descriptions of maori life and manners of past times, found in these sketches, owe nothing to fiction. the different scenes and incidents are given exactly as they occurred, and all the persons described are real persons. contact with the british settlers has of late years effected a marked and rapid change in the manners and mode of life of the natives, and the maori of the present day are as unlike what they were when i first saw them as they are still unlike a civilized people or british subjects. the writer has, therefore, thought it might be worth while to place a few sketches of old maori life on record, before the remembrance of them has quite passed away; though in doing so he has by no means exhausted an interesting subject, and a more full and particular delineation of old maori life, manners, and history has yet to be written. contents. page chapter i. introductory.--first view of new zealand.--first sight of the natives, and first sensations experienced by a mere pakeha.--a maori chief's notions of trading in the old times.--a dissertation on "courage."--a few words on dress.--the chief's soliloquy.--the maori cry of welcome. chapter ii. the market price of a pakeha.--the value of a pakeha "as such."-- maori hospitality in the good old times.--a respectable friend.-- maori mermaids.--my notions of the value of gold.--how i got on shore. chapter iii. a wrestling match.--beef against melons.--the victor gains a loss. --"our chief."--his speech.--his _status_ in the tribe.--death of "melons."--rumours of peace and war.--getting the pa in fighting order.--my friend the "relation eater."--expectation and preparation. --arrival of doubtful friends.--sham fight.--the "taki."--the war dance.--another example of maori hospitality.--crocodile's tears.-- loose notions about heads.--tears of blood.--brotherly love.-- capital felony.--peace. chapter iv. a little affair of "flotsam and jetsam."--rebellion crushed in the bud.--a pakeha's house sacked.--maori law.--a maori lawsuit.--affair thrown into chancery. chapter v. every englishman's house is his castle.--my estate and castle.--how i purchased my estate.--native titles to land, of what nature.--value of land in new zealand.--land commissioners.--the triumphs of eloquence.--magna charta. chapter vi. how i kept house.--maori freebooters.--an ugly customer.--the "suaviter in modo."--a single combat to amuse the ladies.--the true maori gentleman.--character of the maori people. chapter vii. excitement caused by first contact with europeans.--the two great institutions of maori land.--the muru.--the tapu.--instances of legal robbery.--descriptions and examples of the muru.--profit and loss.--explanation of some of the workings of the law of muru. chapter viii. the muru falling into disuse.--why.--examples of the tapu.--the personal tapu.--evading the tapu.--the undertaker's tapu.--how i got tabooed.--frightful difficulties.--how i got out of them.--the war tapu.--maori war customs. chapter ix. the tapu tohunga.--the maori oracle.--responses of the oracle.-- priestcraft. chapter x. the priest evokes a spirit.--the consequences.--a maori tragedy.-- the "tohunga" again. chapter xi. the local tapu.--the taniwha.--the battle of motiti.--the death of tiki whenua.--reflections.--brutus, marcus antonius, and tiki whenua.--suicide. chapter xii. the tapa.--instances of.--the storming of mokoia.--pomare.--hongi ika.--tareha.--honour amongst thieves. chapter xiii. "my rangatira."--the respective duties of the pakeha and his rangatira.--public opinion.--a "pakeha kino."--description of my rangatira.--his exploits and misadventures.--his moral principles. --decline in the numbers of the natives.--proofs of former large population.--ancient forts.--causes of decrease. chapter xiv. trading in the old times.--the native difficulty.--virtue its own reward.--rule, britannia.--death of my chief.--his dying.--rescue. --how the world goes round. chapter xv. mana.--young new zealand.--the law of england.--"pop goes the weasel."--right if we have might--god save the queen.--good advice. glossary old new zealand. chapter i. introductory.--first view of new zealand.--first sight of the natives, and first sensations experienced by a mere pakeha.--a maori chief's notions of trading in the old times.--a dissertation on "courage."--a few words on dress.--the chief's soliloquy.--the maori cry of welcome. ah! those good old times, when first i came to new zealand, we shall never see their like again. since then the world seems to have gone wrong, somehow. a dull sort of world this, now. the very sun does not seem to me to shine as bright as it used. pigs and potatoes have degenerated; and everything seems "flat, stale, and unprofitable." but those were the times!--the "good old times"--before governors were invented, and law, and justice, and all that. when every one did as he liked,--except when his neighbours would not let him, (the more shame for them,)--when there were no taxes, or duties, or public works, or public to require them. who cared then whether he owned a coat?--or believed in shoes or stockings? the men were bigger and stouter in those days; and the women,--ah! money was useless and might go a-begging. a sovereign was of no use, except to make a hole in and hang it in a child's ear. the few i brought went that way, and i have seen them swapped for shillings, which were thought more becoming. what cared i? a fish-hook was worth a dozen of them, and i had lots of fish-hooks. little did i think in those days that i should ever see here towns and villages, banks and insurance offices, prime ministers and bishops; and hear sermons preached, and see men hung, and all the other plagues of civilization. i am a melancholy man. i feel somehow as if i had got older. i am no use in these dull times. i mope about in solitary places, exclaiming often, "oh! where are those good old times?" and echo, or some young maori whelp from the three kings, answers from behind a bush,--no hea. i shall not state the year in which i first saw the mountains of new zealand appear above the sea; there is a false suspicion getting about that i am growing old. this must be looked down, so i will at present avoid dates. i always held a theory that time was of no account in new zealand, and i do believe i was right up to the time of the arrival of the first governor. the natives hold this opinion still, especially those who are in debt: so i will just say, it was in the good old times, long ago, that from the deck of a small trading schooner, in which i had taken my passage from somewhere, that i first cast eyes on maori land. it _was_ maori land then; but, alas! what is it now? success to you, o king of waikato. may your _mana_ never be less;--long may you hold at bay the demon of civilization, though fall at last i fear you must. plutus with golden hoof is trampling on your land-marks. he mocks the war-song, but should _i_ see your fall, at least one pakeha maori shall raise the _tangi_; and with flint and shell as of old shall the women lament you. let me, however, leave these melancholy thoughts for a time, forget the present, take courage, and talk about the past. i have not got on shore yet; a thing i must accomplish as a necessary preliminary to looking about me, and telling what i saw. i do not understand the pakeha way of beginning a story in the middle; so to start fair, i must fairly get on shore, which, i am surprised to find, was easier to _do_ than to describe. the little schooner neared the land, and as we came closer and closer, i began in a most unaccountable manner to remember all the tales i had ever heard of people being baked in ovens, with cabbage and potato "fixins." i had before this had some considerable experience of "savages," but as they had no regular system of domestic cookery of the nature i have hinted at, and being, as i was in those days, a mere pakeha (a character i have since learned to despise), i felt, to say the least, rather curious as to the then existing demand on shore for butchers' meat. the ship sailed on, and i went below and loaded my pistols; not that i expected at all to conquer the country with them, but somehow because i couldn't help it. we soon came to anchor in a fine harbour before the house of the very first settler who had ever entered it, and to this time he was the only one. he had, however, a few europeans in his employ; and there was at some forty miles distance a sort of nest of english, irish, scotch, dutch, french, and american runaways from south sea whalers, with whom were also congregated certain other individuals of the pakeha race, whose manner of arrival in the country was not clearly accounted for, and to inquire into which was, as i found afterwards, considered extremely impolite, and a great breach of _bienséance_. they lived in a half-savage state, or, to speak correctly, in a savage and-a-half state, being greater savages by far than the natives themselves. i must, however, turn back a little, for i perceive i am not on shore yet. the anchoring of a vessel of any size, large or small, in a port of new zealand, in those days, was an event of no small importance; and, accordingly, from the deck we could see the shore crowded by several hundreds of natives, all in a great state of excitement, shouting and running about, many with spears and clubs in their hands, and altogether looking to the inexperienced newcomer very much as if they were speculating on an immediate change of diet. i must say these, at least, were my impressions on seeing the mass of shouting, gesticulating, tattooed fellows, who were exhibiting before us, and who all seemed to be mad with excitement of some sort or other. shortly after we came to anchor, a boat came off, in which was mr. ----, the settler i have mentioned, and also the principal chief of the tribe of natives inhabiting this part of the country. mr. ---- gave me a hearty welcome to new zealand, and also an invitation to his house, telling me i was welcome to make it my home for any unlimited time, till i had one of my own. the chief also, having made some inquiries first of the captain of the schooner--such as, whether i was a _rangatira_, if i had plenty of _taonga_ (goods) on board, and other particulars; and having been answered by the captain in the most satisfactory manner,--came up to me and gave me a most sincere welcome. (i love sincerity.) he would have welcomed me, however, had i been as poor as job, for pakehas were, in those days, at an enormous premium. even job, at the worst (a _pakeha_ job), might be supposed to have an old coat, or a spike nail, or a couple of iron hoops left on hand, and these were "good trade" in the times i speak of; and under a process well understood at the time by my friend the chief, were sure to change hands soon after his becoming aware of their whereabouts. his idea of trade was this:--he took them, and never paid for them till he took something else of greater value, which, whatever it might be, he never paid for till he made a third still heavier haul. he always paid just what he thought fit to give, and when he chose to withdraw his patronage from any pakeha who might be getting too knowing for him, and extend it to some newer arrival, he never paid for the last "lot of trade;" but, to give him his due, he allowed his pakeha friends to make the best bargain they could with the rest of the tribe, with the exception of a few of his nearest relations, over whose interests he would watch. so, after all, the pakeha would make a living; but i have never heard of one of the old traders who got rich by trading with the natives: there were too many drawbacks of the nature i have mentioned, as well as others unnecessary to mention just yet, which prevented it. i positively vow and protest to you, gentle and patient reader, that if ever i get safe on shore, i will do my best to give you satisfaction; let me get once on shore, and i am all right: but, unless i get my feet on _terra firma_, how can i ever begin my tale of the good old times? as long as i am on board ship i am cramped and crippled, and a mere slave to greenwich time, and can't get on. some people, i am aware, would make a dash at it, and manage the thing without the aid of boat, canoe, or life preserver; but such people are, for the most part, dealers in fiction, which i am not: my story is a true story, not "founded on fact," but fact itself, and so i cannot manage to get on shore a moment sooner than circumstances will permit. it may be that i ought to have landed before this; but i must confess i don't know any more about the right way to tell a story, than a native minister knows how to "come" a war dance. i declare the mention of the war dance calls up a host of reminiscences, pleasurable and painful, exhilarating and depressing, in such a way as no one but a few, a very few, pakeha maori can understand. thunder!--but no; let me get ashore; how can i dance on the water, or before i ever knew how? on shore i will get this time, i am determined, in spite of fate--so now for it. the boat of my friend mr. ---- being about to return to the shore, leaving the chief and mr. ---- on board, and i seeing the thing had to be done, plucked up courage, and having secretly felt the priming of my pistols under my coat, got into the boat. i must here correct myself. i have said "plucked up courage," but that is not exactly my meaning. the fact is, kind reader, if you have followed me thus far, you are about to be rewarded for your perseverance, i am determined to make you as wise as i am myself on at least one important subject, and that is not saying a little, let me inform you, as i can hardly suppose you have made the discovery for yourself on so short an acquaintance. falstaff, who was a very clever fellow, and whose word cannot be doubted, says, "the better part of valour is discretion." now, that being the case, what in the name of achilles,--(he was a rank coward, though, for he went about knocking people on the head, being himself next thing to invulnerable, as he could not be hurt till he turned his back to the enemy. there is a deep moral in this same story about achilles, which, perhaps, by-and-by, i may explain to you)--what, i say again, in the name of everything valorous, can the worser part of valour be, if "discretion" be the better? the fact is, my dear sir, i don't believe in courage at all, nor ever did: but there is something far better, which has carried me through many serious scrapes with _éclat_ and safety; i mean the appearance of courage. if you have this, you may drive the world before you. as for real courage, i do not believe there can be any such thing. a man who sees himself in danger of being killed by his enemy and is not in a precious fright, is simply not courageous but mad. the man who is not frightened because he cannot see the danger, is a person of weak mind--a fool--who ought to be locked up lest he walk into a well with eyes open; but the appearance of courage--or rather, as i deny the existence of the thing itself, that appearance which is thought to be courage--that is the thing will carry you through! get you made k.c.b., victoria cross, and all that! men by help of this quality do the most heroic actions, being all the time ready to die of mere fright, but keeping up a good countenance all the time. here is the secret--pay attention, it is worth much money--if ever you get into any desperate battle or skirmish, and feel in such a state of mortal fear that you almost wish to be shot to get rid of it, just say to yourself--"if i am so preciously frightened, what must the other fellow be?" the thought will refresh you; your own self-esteem will answer that, of course, the enemy is more frightened than you are, consequently the nearer you feel to running away the more reason you have to stand. look at the last gazette of the last victory, where thousands of men at one shilling _per diem_, minus certain very serious deductions, "covered themselves with glory." the thing is clear: the other fellows ran first; and that is all about it! my secret is a very good secret; but one must of course do the thing properly: no matter of what kind the danger is, you must look it boldly in the face and keep your wits about you, and the more frightened you get the more determined you must be--to keep up appearances--and half the danger is gone at once. so now, having corrected myself, as well as given some valuable advice, i shall start again for the shore, by saying that i plucked up a very good appearance of courage and got on board the boat. for the honour and glory of the british nation, of which i considered myself in some degree a representative on this momentous occasion, i had dressed myself in one of my best suits. my frock-coat was, i fancy, "the thing;" my waistcoat was the result of much and deep thought, in cut, colour, and material; i may venture to affirm that the like had not been often seen in the southern hemisphere. my tailor has, as i hear, long since realized a fortune and retired, in consequence of the enlightenment he at different times received from me on the great principles of, not clothing, but embellishing the human subject. my hat looked down criticism, and my whole turn-out was such as i calculated would "astonish the natives," and create awe and respect for myself individually and the british nation in general; of whom i thought fit to consider myself no bad sample. here i will take occasion to remark that some attention to ornament and elegance in the matter of dress is not only allowable but commendable. man is the only beast to whom a discretionary power has been left in this respect: why then should he not take a hint from nature, and endeavour to beautify his person? peacocks and birds of paradise could no doubt live and get fat though all their feathers were the colour of a quaker's leggings, but see how they are ornamented! nature has, one would say, exhausted herself in beautifying them. look at the tiger and leopard! could not they murder without their stripes and spots?--but see how their coats are painted! look at the flowers--at the whole universe--and you will see everywhere the ornamental combined with the useful. look, then, to the cut and colour of your coat, and do not laugh at the maori of past times, who, not being "seised" of a coat, because he has never been able to seize one, carves and tattoos legs, arms, and face. the boat is, however, darting towards the shore, rapidly propelled by four stout natives. my friend ---- and the chief are on board. the chief has got his eye on my double gun, which is hanging up in the cabin. he takes it down and examines it closely. he is a good judge of a gun. it is the best _tupara_ he has ever seen, and his speculations run something very like this:--"a good gun, a first-rate gun; i must have this; i must _tapu_ it before i leave the ship:--[here he pulls a piece of the fringe from his cloak and ties it round the stock of the gun, thereby rendering it impossible for me to sell, give away, or dispose of it in any way to any one but himself]--i wonder what the pakeha will want for it? i will promise him as much flax or as many pigs as ever he likes for it. true, i have no flax just now, and am short of pigs, they were almost all killed at the last _hahunga_; but if he is in a hurry he can buy the flax or pigs from the people, which ought to satisfy him. perhaps he would take a piece of land!--that would be famous. i would give him a piece quite close to the _kainga_, where i would always have him close to me. i hope he may take the land; then i should have two pakehas, him and ----. all the inland chiefs would envy me. this ---- is getting too knowing; he has taken to hiding his best goods of late, and selling them before i knew he had them. it's just the same as thieving, and i won't stand it. he sold three muskets the other day to the ngatiwaki, and i did not know he had them, or i should have taken them. i could have paid for them some time or another. it was wrong, wrong, very wrong, to let that tribe have those muskets. he is not their pakeha; let them look for a pakeha for themselves. those ngatiwaki are getting too many muskets--those three make sixty-four they have got, besides two _tupara_. certainly we have a great many more, and the ngatiwaki are our relations; but then there was kohu, we killed, and patu, we stole his wife. there is no saying what these ngatiwaki may do if they should get plenty of muskets; they are game enough for anything. it was wrong to give them those muskets; wrong, wrong, wrong!" after experience enabled me to tell just what the chief's soliloquy was, as above. but all this time the boat is darting to the shore; and as the distance is only a couple of hundred yards, i can hardly understand how it is that i have not yet landed. the crew are pulling like mad, being impatient to show the tribe the prize they have made,--a regular _pakeha rangatira_ as well as a _rangatira pakeha_ (two very different things), who has lots of tomahawks, and fish-hooks, and blankets, and a _tupara_, and is even suspected to be the owner of a great many "pots" of gunpowder! "he is going to stop with the tribe, he is going to trade, he is going to be a pakeha _for us_." these last conclusions were, however, jumped at; the "pakeha" not having then any notions of trade or commerce, and being only inclined to look about and amuse himself. the boat nears the shore, and now arises from a hundred voices the call of welcome,--"_haere mai! haere mai! hoe mai! hoe mai! haere mai, e-te-pa-ke-ha, haere mai!_" mats, hands, and certain ragged petticoats put into requisition for that occasion, all at the same time waving in the air in sign of welcome. then a pause. then, as the boat came nearer, another burst of _haere mai!_ but unaccustomed as i was then to the maori salute, i disliked the sound. there was a wailing melancholy cadence that did not strike me as being the appropriate tone of welcome; and as i was quite ignorant up to this time of my own importance, wealth, and general value as a pakeha, i began, as the boat closed in with the shore, to ask myself whether possibly this same "_haere mai_" might not be the maori for "dilly, dilly, come and be killed." there was, however, no help for it now; we were close to the shore, and so, putting on the most unconcerned countenance possible, i prepared to make my _entrée_ into maori land in a proper and dignified manner. chapter ii. the market price of a pakeha.--the value of a pakeha "as such."--maori hospitality in the good old times.--a respectable friend.--maori mermaids.--my notions of the value of gold.--how i got on shore. here i must remark that in those days the value of a pakeha to a tribe was enormous. for want of pakehas to trade with, and from whom to procure gunpowder and muskets, many tribes or sections of tribes were about this time exterminated, or nearly so, by their more fortunate neighbours who got pakehas before them, and who consequently became armed with muskets first. a pakeha trader was therefore of a value say about twenty times his own weight in muskets. this, according to my notes made at the time, i find to have represented a value in new zealand something about what we mean in england when we talk of the sum total of the national debt. a book-keeper, or a second-rate pakeha, not a trader, might be valued at, say, his weight in tomahawks; an enormous sum also. the poorest labouring pakeha, though he might have no property, would earn something--his value to the chief and tribe with whom he lived might be estimated at, say, his weight in fish-hooks, or about a hundred thousand pounds or so: value estimated by eagerness to obtain the article. the value of a musket was not to be estimated to a native by just what he gave for it: he gave all he had, or could procure, and had he ten times as much to give, he would have given it, if necessary; or if not, he would buy ten muskets instead of one. muskets! muskets! muskets! nothing but muskets, was the first demand of the maori: muskets and gunpowder, at any cost. i do not, however, mean to affirm that pakehas were at this time valued "as such,"--like mr. pickwick's silk stockings, which were very good and valuable stockings, "as stockings;" not at all. a loose straggling pakeha--a runaway from a ship for instance, who had nothing, and was never likely to have anything--a vagrant straggler passing from place to place,--was not of much account, even in those times. two men of this description (runaway sailors) were hospitably entertained one night by a chief, a very particular friend of mine, who, to pay himself for his trouble and outlay, ate one of them next morning. remember, my good reader, i don't deal in fiction; my friend ate the pakeha sure enough, and killed him before he ate him: which was civil, for it was not always done. but then, certainly, the pakeha was a _tutua_, a nobody, a fellow not worth a spike-nail; no one knew him; he had no relations, no goods, no expectations, no anything: what could be made of him? of what use on earth was he except to eat? and, indeed, not much good even for that--they say he was not good meat. but good well-to-do pakehas, traders, ship-captains, labourers, or employers of labour, these were to be honoured, cherished, caressed, protected--and plucked: plucked judiciously (the maori is a clever fellow in his way), so that the feathers might grow again. but as for poor, mean, mere _pakeha tutua, e aha te pai_? before going any farther i beg to state that i hope the english reader or the new-comer, who does not understand maori morality--especially of the glorious old time--will not form a bad opinion of my friend's character, merely because he ate a good-for-nothing sort of pakeha, who really was good for nothing else. people from the old countries i have often observed to have a kind of over-delicacy about them, the result of a too effeminate course of life and over-civilization; which is the cause that, often starting from premises which are true enough, they will, being carried away by their over-sensitive constitution or sickly nervous system, jump at once, without any just process of reasoning, to the most erroneous conclusions. i know as well as can be that some of this description of my readers will at once, without reflection, set my friend down as a very rude ill-mannered sort of person. nothing of the kind, i assure you. you never made a greater mistake in your life. my friend was a highly respectable person in his way; he was a great friend and protector of rich, well-to-do pakehas; he was, moreover, a great warrior, and had killed the first man in several different battles. he always wore, hanging round his neck, a handsome carved flute (this at least showed a soft and musical turn of mind), which was made of the thigh-bone of one of his enemies; and when heke, the ngapuhi, made war against us, my friend came to the rescue, fought manfully for his pakeha friends, and was desperately wounded in so doing. now can any one imagine a more respectable character?--a warrior, a musician, a friend in need, who would stand by you while he had a leg to stand on, and would not eat a _friend_ on any account whatever--except he should be very hungry. the boat darts on; she touches the edge of a steep rock; the "_haere mai_" has subsided; six or seven "personages"--the magnates of the tribe--come gravely to the front to meet me as i land. there are about six or seven yards of shallow water to be crossed between the boat and where they stand. a stout fellow rushes to the boat's nose, and "shows a back," as we used to say at leap-frog. he is a young fellow of respectable standing in the tribe, a far-off cousin of the chief's, a warrior, and as such has no back: that is to say, to carry loads of fuel or potatoes. he is too good a man to be spoiled in that way; the women must carry for him; the able-bodied men of the tribe must be saved for its protection; but he is ready to carry the pakeha on shore--the _rangatira pakeha_--who wears a real _koti roa_ (a long coat) and beaver hat! carry! he would lie down and make a bridge of his body, with pleasure, for him. has he not half a shipful of _taonga_? well, having stepped in as dignified a manner as i knew how, from thwart to thwart, till i came to the bow of the boat, and having tightened on my hat and buttoned up my coat, i fairly mounted on the broad shoulders of my aboriginal friend. i felt at the time that the thing was a sort of failure--a come down; the position was not graceful, or in any way likely to suggest ideas of respect or awe, with my legs projecting a yard or so from under each arm of my bearer, holding on to his shoulders in the most painful, cramped, and awkward manner: to be sacked on shore thus, and delivered like a bag of goods thus, into the hands of the assembled multitude, did not strike me as a good first appearance on this stage. but little, indeed, can we tell in this world what one second may produce. gentle reader, fair reader, patient reader! the fates have decreed it; the fiat has gone forth; on that man's back i shall never land in new zealand. manifold are the doubts and fears which have yet to shake and agitate the hearts and minds of all my friends as to whether i shall ever land at all, or ever again feel _terra firma_ touch my longing foot. my bearer made one step; the rock is slippery; backwards he goes; back, back! the steep is near--is passed! down, down, we go! backwards, and headlong to the depths below! the ebb tide is running like a sluice; in an instant we are forty yards off, and a fathom below the surface; ten more fathoms are beneath us. the heels of my boots, my polished boots, point to the upper air--ay, point; but when, oh, when again, shall i salute thee, gentle air; when again, unchoked by the saline flood, cry _veni, aura?_ when, indeed! for now i am wrong end uppermost, drifting away with the tide, and ballasted with heavy pistols, boots, tight clothes, and all the straps and strings of civilization. oh, heavens! and oh, earth! and oh, ye little thieves of fishes who manage to live in the waters under the earth (a miserable sort of life you must have of it)! oh, maori sea nymphs! who, with yellow hair--yellow? egad--that's odd enough, to say the least of it: how ever the maori should come to give their sea nymphs or spirits yellow hair is curious. the maori know nothing about yellow hair; their hair is black. about one in a hundred of them have a sort of dirty brown hair; but even if there should be now and then a native with yellow hair, how is it that they have come to give this colour to the sea-sprites in particular?--who also "dance on the sands, and yet no footstep seen." now i confess i am rather puzzled and struck by the coincidence. i don't believe shakspeare ever was in new zealand; jason might, being a seafaring man, and if he should have called in for wood and water, and happened to have the golden fleece by any accident on board, and by any chance put it on for a wig, why the thing would be accounted for at once. the world is mad now-a-days about gold, so no one cares a fig about what is called "golden hair:" nuggets and dust have the preference; but this is a grand mistake. gold is of no use, or very little, except in so far as this--that through the foolishness of human beings, one can purchase the necessaries and conveniences of life with it. now, this being the case, if i have a chest full of gold (which i have not), i am no richer for it, in fact, until i have given it away in exchange for necessaries, comforts, and luxuries, which are, properly speaking, riches or wealth; but it follows from this, that he who has given me this same riches or wealth for my gold, has become poor, and his only chance to set himself up again, is to get rid of the gold as fast as he can, in exchange for the same sort and quantity of things, if he can get them: which is always doubtful. but here lies the gist of the matter--how did i, in the first instance, become possessed of my gold? if i bought it, and gave real wealth for it, beef, mutton, silk, tea, sugar, tobacco, ostrich feathers, leather breeches, and crinoline,--why, then, all i have done in parting with my gold, is merely to get them back again, and i am, consequently, no richer by the transaction; but if i steal my gold, then i am a clear gainer of the whole lot of valuables above mentioned. so, upon the whole, i don't see much use in getting gold honestly, and one must not steal it: digging it certainly is almost as good as stealing, if it is not too deep, which fully accounts for so many employing themselves in this way; but then the same amount of labour would raise no end of wheat and potatoes, beef and mutton: and all farmers, mathematicians, and algebraists will agree with me in this--that after any country is fully cultivated, all the gold in the world won't force it to grow one extra turnip, and what more can anyone desire? so now adam smith, mcculloch, and all the rest of them may go and be hanged. the whole upshot of this treatise on political economy and golden hair (which i humbly lay at the feet of the colonial treasurer), is this:--i would not give one of your golden locks, my dear, for all the gold, silver, pearls, diamonds, _mere ponamus_--stop, let me think: a good _mere ponamu_ would be a temptation. i had once a _mere_, a present from a maori friend, the most beautiful thing of the kind ever seen. it was nearly as transparent as glass; in it there were beautiful marks like fern leaves, trees, fishes--and i would not give much for a person who could not see almost _anything_ in it. never shall i cease to regret having parted with it. the emperor of brazil, i think, has it now; but he does not know the proper use of it. it went to the minister many years ago. i did not sell it. i would have scorned to do that: but i did expect to be made knight of the golden pig-knife, or elephant and watch-box, or something of that nature: but here i am still, a mere pakeha maori--and, as i recollect, in desperate danger of being drowned. up we came at last, blowing and puffing like grampuses. with a glance i "recognized the situation:" we had drifted a long way from the landing-place. my hat was dashing away before the land breeze towards the sea, and had already made a good "offing." three of the boat's crew had jumped overboard, had passed us a long distance, and were seemingly bound after the hat; the fourth man was pulling madly with one oar, and consequently making great progress in no very particular direction. the whole tribe of natives had followed our drift along the shore, shouting and gesticulating, and some were launching a large canoe, evidently bent on saving the _hat_, on which all eyes were turned. as for the pakeha, it appears they must have thought it an insult to his understanding to suppose he could be drowned anywhere in sight of land. "'did he not come from the sea?' was he not a fish? was not the sea solid land to him? did not his fire burn on the ocean? had he not slept on the crests of the waves?" all this i heard afterwards; but at the time, had i not been as much at home in the water as anything not amphibious could be, i should have been very little better than a gone pakeha. here was a pretty wind up! i was going to "astonish the natives," was i?--with my black hat and my _koti roa_? but the villain is within a yard of me--the rascally cause of all my grief. the furies take possession of me! i dart upon him like a hungry shark! i have him! i have him under! down, villain! down to the kraken and the whale, to the taniwha cave!--down! down! down! as we sank i heard one grand roar of wild laughter from the shore: the word _utu_ i heard roared by many voices, but did not then know its import. the pakeha was drowning the maori for _utu_ for himself, in _case_ he should be drowned. no matter: if the maori can't hold his own, it's fair play; and then, if the pakeha really does drown the maori, has he not lots of _taonga_ to be robbed of?--no, not exactly to be robbed of, either; let us not use unnecessarily bad language--we will say to be distrained upon. crack! what do i hear? down in the deep i felt a shock, and actually heard a sudden noise. is it the "crack of doom?" no, it is my frock-coat gone at one split "from clue to earing"--split down the back. oh, if my pistols would go off, a fiery and watery death shouldst thou die, caliban. egad! they have gone off--they are both gone to the bottom! my boots are getting heavy! humane society, ahoy! where is your boat-hook?--where is your bellows? humane society, ahoy! we are now drifting fast by a sandy point, after which there will be no chance of landing,--the tide will take us right out to sea. my friend is very hard to drown--i must finish him some other time. we both swim for the point, and land. and this is how i got ashore on maori land. chapter iii. a wrestling match.--beef against melons.--the victor gains a loss.--"our chief."--his speech.--his _status_ in the tribe.--death of "melons."--rumours of peace and war.--getting the pa in fighting order.--my friend the "relation eater."-- expectation and preparation.--arrival of doubtful friends.--sham fight.--the "taki."--the war dance.--another example of maori hospitality.--crocodile's tears.--loose notions about heads.-- tears of blood.--brotherly love.--capital felony.--peace. something between a cheer, a scream, and a roar, greets our arrival on the sand. an english voice salutes me with "well, you served that fellow out." one half of my coat hangs from my right elbow, the other from my left; a small shred of the collar is still around my neck. my hat, alas! my hat is gone. i am surrounded by a dense mob of natives, laughing, shouting, and gesticulating, in the most grotesque manner. three englishmen are also in the crowd; they seem greatly amused at something, and offer repeated welcomes. at this moment, up comes my salt-water acquaintance, elbowing his way through the crowd; there is a strange serio-comic expression of anger in his face; he stoops, makes horrid grimaces, quivering at the same time his left hand and arm about in a most extraordinary manner, and striking the thick part of his left arm with the palm of the right hand. "_hu!_" says he, "_hu! hu!_" "what _can_ he mean?" said i. "he is challenging you to wrestle," cried one of the englishmen; "he wants _utu_." "what is _utu_" said i. "payment." "i won't pay him." "oh, that's not it, he wants to take it out of you wrestling." "oh, i see; here's at him; pull off my coat and boots: i'll wrestle him. 'his foot is in his own country, and his name is'--what?" "sir, his name in english means 'an eater of melons:' he is a good wrestler; you must mind." "_water_-melons, i suppose! beef against melons for ever, hurrah! here's at him." here the natives began to run between us to separate us, but seeing that i was in the humour to "have it out," and that neither self nor friend were actually out of temper--and, no doubt, expecting to see the pakeha floored--they stood to one side and made a ring. a wrestler soon recognizes another, and my friend soon gave me some hints that showed me i had some work before me. i was a youngster in those days, all bone and sinew, full of animal spirits, and as tough as leather. a couple of desperate main strength efforts soon convinced us both that science or endurance must decide the contest. my antagonist was a strapping fellow of about five-and-twenty, tremendously strong, and much heavier than me. i, however, in those days actually could not be fatigued: i did not know the sensation, and i could run from morning till night. i therefore trusted to wearing him out, and avoiding his _ta_ and _wiri_. all this time the mob were shouting encouragement to one or other of us. such a row never was seen. i soon perceived i had a "party." "well done, pakeha!" "now for it, melons!" "at him again!" "take care the pakeha is a _taniwha_! the pakeha is a _tino tangata_!" "hooray!" (from the british element). "the pakeha is down!" "no, he isn't!" (from english side). here i saw my friend's knees beginning to tremble. i made a great effort, administered my favourite remedy, and there lay the "eater of melons" prone upon the sand. i stood a victor; and, like many other conquerors, a very great loser. there i stood, _minus_ hat, coat, and pistols; wet and mauled, and transformed very considerably for the worse since i left the ship. when my antagonist fell, the natives gave a great shout of triumph, and congratulated me in their own way with the greatest good will. i could see i had got their good opinion, though i scarcely could understand how. after sitting on the sand some time, my friend arose, and with a very graceful movement, and a smile of good-nature on his dusky countenance, he held out his hand and said in english, "how do you do?" i was much pleased at this; the natives had given me fair play, and my antagonist, though defeated both by sea and land, offered me his hand, and welcomed me to the shore with his whole stock of english--"how do you do?" but the row is not half over yet. here comes the chief in the ship's boat. the other is miles off with its one man crew still pulling no one knows, or at all cares, where. some one has been off in a canoe and told the chief that "melons" and the "new pakeha" were fighting like mad on the beach. here he comes, flourishing his _mere ponamu_. he is a tall, stout fellow, in the prime of life, black with tatooing, and splendidly dressed, according to the splendour of those days. he has on a very good blue jacket, no shirt or waistcoat, a pair of duck trousers, and a red sash round his waist; no hat or shoes, these being as yet things beyond a chief's ambition. the jacket was the only one in the tribe; and amongst the surrounding company i saw only one other pair of trousers, which had a large hole at each knee; but this was not considered to detract at all from its value. the chief jumps ashore; he begins his oration, or rather to "blow up," all and sundry, the tribe in general, and poor "melons" in particular. he is really vexed, and wishes to appear to me more vexed than he really is. he runs gesticulating and flourishing his _mere_ about ten steps in one direction, in the course of which ten steps he delivers a sentence; he then turns and runs back the same distance, giving vent to his wrath in another sentence, and so back and forward, forward and back, till he has exhausted the subject, and tired his legs. the englishmen were beside me, and gave a running translation of what he said. "pretty work this," he began, "_good_ work; killing my pakeha: look at him! (here a flourish in my direction with the _mere_.) i won't stand this; not at all! not at all! not at all! (the last sentence took three jumps, a step, and a turn-round, to keep correct time.) who killed the pakeha? it was melons. you are a nice man, are you not? (this with a sneer.) killing my pakeha! (in a voice like thunder, and rushing savagely, _mere_ in hand, at poor melons, but turning exactly at the end of the ten steps and coming back again.) it will be heard of all over the country; we shall be called the 'pakeha killers;' i shall be sick with shame; the pakeha will run away, and take all his _taonga_ along with him: what if you had killed him dead, or broken his bones? his relations would be coming across the sea for _utu_. (great sensation, and i try to look as though i would say 'of course they would.') what did i build this pa close to the sea for?--was it not to trade with the pakehas?--and here you are killing the second that has come to stop with me! (here poor melons burst out crying like an infant.) where is the hat?--where the _koti roa_?--where the shoes?--(boots were shoes in those days.) the pakeha is robbed! he is murdered! (here a howl from melons, and i go over and sit down by him, clap him on the bare back, and shake his hand.) look at that,--the pakeha does not bear malice; i would kill you if he asked me: you are a bad people, killers of pakehas; be off with you, the whole of you, away!" this command was instantly obeyed by all the women, boys, and slaves. melons also, being in disgrace, disappeared; but i observed that "the whole of you" did not seem to be understood as including the stout, able-bodied, tattooed part of the population, the strength of the tribe--the warriors, in fact, many of whom counted themselves to be very much about as good as the chief. they were his nearest relations, without whose support he could do nothing, and were entirely beyond his control. i found afterwards that it was only during actual war that this chief was perfectly absolute, which arose from the confidence the tribe had in him, both as a general and a fighting man, and the obvious necessity that in war implicit obedience be given to one head. i have, however, observed in other tribes, that in war they would elect a chief for the occasion, a war chief, and have been surprised to see the obedience they gave him, even when his conduct was very open to criticism. i say with surprise, for the natives are so self-possessed, opinionated, and republican, that the chiefs have at ordinary times but little control over them; except in very rare cases, where the chief happens to possess a singular vigour of character, or some other unusual advantage, to enable him to keep them under. i will mention here that my first antagonist, "the eater of melons," became a great friend of mine. he was my right-hand man and manager when i set up house on my own account, and did me many friendly services in the course of my acquaintance with him. he came to an unfortunate end some years later. the tribe were getting ready for a war expedition; poor melons was filling cartridges from a fifty pound barrel of gunpowder, pouring the gunpowder into the cartridges with his hand, and smoking his pipe at the time, as i have seen the natives doing fifty times since: a spark fell into the cask, and it is scarcely necessary to say that my poor friend was roasted alive in a second. i have known three other accidents of the same kind, from smoking whilst filling cartridges. in one of these accidents three lives were lost, and many injured; and i really do believe that the certainty of death will not prevent some of the natives from smoking for more than a given time. i have often seen infants refuse the mother's breast, and cry for the pipe till it was given to them; and dying natives often ask for a pipe, and die smoking. i can clearly perceive that the young men of the present day are neither so tall, or stout, or strong, as men of the same age were when i first came to the country; and i believe that this smoking, from their infancy, is one of the chief causes of this decrease in strength and stature. i am landed at last, certainly; but i am tattered and wet, and in a most deplorable plight: so, to make my story short--for i see, if i am too particular, i shall never come to the end of it--i returned to the ship, put myself to rights, and came on shore next day with all my _taonga_, to the great delight of the chief and tribe. my hospitable entertainer, mr. ----, found room for my possessions in his store, and a room for myself in his house; and so now that i am fairly housed we shall see what will come of it. i have now all new zealand before me to caper about in; so i shall do as i like, and please myself. i shall keep to neither rule, rhyme, nor reason, but just write what comes uppermost to my recollection of the good old days. many matters which seemed odd enough to me at first, have long appeared such mere matters of course, that i am likely to pass them over without notice. i shall, however, give some of the more striking features of those delectable days, now, alas! passed and gone. some short time after this, news came that a grand war expedition, which had been absent nearly two years at the south, had returned. this party were about a thousand strong, being composed of two parties, of about five hundred men each, from two different tribes, who had joined their force for the purpose of the expedition. the tribe with which mr. ---- and myself were staying, had not sent any men on this war party; but, i suppose to keep their hands in, had attacked one of the two tribes who had, and who were, consequently, much weakened by the absence of so many of their best men. it, however, turned out that after a battle--the ferocity of which has seldom been equalled in any country but this--our friends were defeated with a dreadful loss, having inflicted almost as great on the enemy. peace, however, had afterwards been formally made; but, nevertheless, the news of the return of this expedition was not heard without causing a sensation almost amounting to consternation. the war chief of the party who had been attacked by our friends during his absence, was now, with all his men, within an easy day's march. his road lay right through our village, and it was much to be doubted that he would keep the peace, being one of the most noted war chiefs of new zealand, and he and his men returning from a successful expedition. all now was uproar and confusion; messengers were running like mad, in all directions, to call in stragglers; and the women were carrying fuel and provisions into the pa, or fortress, of the tribe. this pa was a very well built and strong stockade, composed of three lines of strong fence and ditch, very ingeniously and artificially planned; and, indeed, as good a defence as well could be imagined against an enemy armed only with musketry. all the men were now working like furies, putting this fort to rights, getting it into fighting order, mending the fences, clearing out the ditches, knocking down houses inside the place, clearing away brushwood and fern all around the outside within musket shot. i was in the thick of it, and worked all day lashing the fence; the fence being of course not nailed, but lashed with _toro-toro_, a kind of tough creeping plant, like a small rope, which was very strong and well adapted for the purpose. this lashing was about ten or twelve feet from the ground, and a stage had to be erected for the men to stand on. to accomplish this lashing or fastening of the fence well and with expedition required two men, one inside the fence and another outside; all the men therefore worked in pairs, passing the end of the _toro-toro_ from one to the other through the fence of large upright stakes and round a cross piece which went all along the fence, by which means the whole was connected into one strong wall. i worked away like fury, just as if i had been born and bred a member of the community; and moreover, not being in those days very particularly famous for what is called prudence, i intended also, circumstances permitting, to fight like fury too, just for the fun of the thing. about a hundred men were employed in this part of the work, new lashing the pa. my _vis-à-vis_ in the operation was a respectable old warrior of great experience and approved valour, whose name being turned into english meant "the eater of his own relations." this was quite a different sort of diet from "melons;" and he did not bear his name for nothing, as i could tell you if i had time; but i am half mad with haste, lashing the pa. i will only say that my comrade was a most bloodthirsty, ferocious, athletic savage, and his character was depicted in every line of his tattooed face. about twenty men had been sent out to watch the approach of the dreaded visitors. the repairing of the stockade went on all one day and all one night, by torchlight and by the light of huge fires lit in the inside. no one thought of sleep. dogs barking, men shouting, children crying, women screaming, pigs squealing, muskets firing (to see if they were fit for active service and would go off), and above all the doleful _tetere_ sounding. this was a huge wooden trumpet six feet long, which gave forth a groaning, moaning sound, like the voice of a dying wild bull. babel, with a dash of pandemonium, will give a faint idea of the uproar. all preparations having been at last made, and no further tidings of the enemy, as i may call them, i took a complete survey of the fort; my friend the "relation eater" being my companion and explaining to me the design of the whole. i learned something that day; and i, though pretty well "up" in the noble science of fortification, ancient and modern, was obliged to confess to myself that a savage who could neither read nor write--who had never heard of cohorn or vauban--and who was moreover avowedly a gobbler up of his own relations, could teach me certain practical "dodges" in the defensive art quite well worth knowing. a long shed of palm leaves had been also built at a safe and convenient distance from the fort. this was for the accommodation of the expected visitors, supposing they came in peaceful guise. a whole herd of pigs were also collected and tied to stakes driven into the ground in the rear of the fort. these were intended to feast the coming guests, according to their behaviour. towards evening a messenger from a neighbouring friendly tribe arrived to say that next day, about noon, the strangers might be expected; and also that the peace, which had been concluded with their tribe during their absence, had been ratified and accepted by them. this was satisfactory intelligence; but, nevertheless, no precaution must be neglected. to be thrown off guard would invite an attack, and ensure destruction; everything must be in order: gun cleaning, flint fixing, cartridge making, was going on in all directions; and the outpost at the edge of the forest was not called in. all was active preparation. the path by which these doubtful friends were coming led through a dense forest, and came out on the clear plain about half a mile from the pa; which plain continued and extended in every direction around the fortress to about the same distance, so that none could approach unperceived. the outpost, of twenty men, was stationed at about a couple of hundred yards from the point where the path emerged from the wood; and as the ground sloped considerably from the forest to the fort, the whole intervening space was clearly visible. another night of alarm and sleepless expectation, the melancholy moan of the _tetere_ still continuing to hint to any lurking enemy that we were all wide awake; or rather, i should say, to assure him most positively of it, for who could sleep with that diabolical din in his ears? morning came, and an early breakfast was cooked and devoured hurriedly. then groups of the younger men might be seen here and there fully armed, and "getting up steam" by dancing the war-dance, in anticipation of the grand dance of the whole warrior force of the tribe, which, as a matter of course, must be performed in honour of the visitors when they arrived: in honour, but quite as much in intimidation, or an endeavour at it, though no one said so. noon arrived at last. anxious glances are turning from all quarters towards the wood, from which a path is plainly seen winding down the sloping ground towards the pa. the outpost is on the alert. straggling scouts are out in every direction. all is expectation. now there is a movement at the outpost. they suddenly spread in an open line, ten yards between each man. one man comes at full speed, running towards the pa, jumping and bounding over every impediment. now something moves in the border of the forest,--it is a mass of black heads. now the men are plainly visible. the whole _taua_ has emerged upon the plain. "here they come! here they come!" is heard in all directions. the men of the outpost cross the line of march in pretended resistance; they present their guns, make horrid grimaces, dance about like mad baboons, and then fall back with headlong speed to the next advantageous position for making a stand. the _taua_ however comes on steadily; they are formed in a solid oblong mass. the chief at the left of the column leads them on. the men are all equipped for immediate action; that is to say, quite naked except their arms and cartridge boxes, which are a warrior's clothes. no one can possibly tell what this peaceful meeting may end in, so all are ready for action at a second's notice. the _taua_ still comes steadily on. as i have said, the men are all stripped for action, but i also notice that the appearance of nakedness is completely taken away by the tattooing, the colour of the skin, and the arms and equipments. the men in fact look much better than when dressed in their maori clothing. every man, almost without exception, is covered with tattooing from the knees to the waist; the face is also covered with dark spiral lines. each man has round his middle a belt, to which is fastened two cartridge boxes, one behind and one before; another belt goes over the right shoulder and under the left arm, and from it hangs, on the left side and rather behind, another cartridge box, and under the waist-belt is thrust, behind, at the small of the back, the short-handled tomahawk for close fight and to finish the wounded. each cartridge box contains eighteen rounds, and every man has a musket. altogether this _taua_ is better and more uniformly armed and equipped than ordinary; but they have been amongst the first who got pakehas to trade with them, and are indeed in consequence the terror of new zealand. on they come, a set of tall, athletic, heavy-made men; they would, i am sure, in the aggregate weigh some tons heavier than the same number of men taken at random from the streets of one of our manufacturing towns. they are now half way across the plain; they keep their formation, a solid oblong, admirably as they advance, but they do not keep step; this causes a very singular appearance at a distance. instead of the regular marching step of civilized soldiers, which may be observed at any distance, this mass seems to progress towards you with the creeping motion of some great reptile at a distance, and when coming down a sloping ground this effect is quite remarkable. the mimic opposition is now discontinued; the outpost rushes in at full speed, the men firing their guns in the air as they run. "_takina! takina!_" is the cry, and out spring three young men, the best runners of our tribe, to perform the ceremony of the _taki_. they hold in their hands some reeds to represent darts or _kokiri_. at this moment a tremendous fire of _ball_ cartridge opens from the fort; the balls whistle in every direction, over and around the advancing party, who steadily and gravely come on, not seeming to know that a gun has been fired; though they perfectly well understand that this salute is also a hint of full preparation for any unexpected turn things may take. now, from the whole female population arises the shrill "_haere mai! haere mai!_" mats are waving, guns firing, dogs barking; the chief roaring to "fall in," and form for the war dance. he appears half mad with excitement, anxiety, and something very like apprehension of a sudden onslaught from his friends. in the midst of this horrible uproar off dart the three runners. they are not unexpected. three young men of the _taua_ are seen to tighten their waist-belts and hand their muskets to their comrades. on go the three young men from the fort. they approach the front of the advancing column; they dance and caper about like mad monkeys, twisting their faces about in the most extraordinary manner, showing the whites of their eyes, and lolling out their tongues. at last, after several feints, they boldly advance within twenty yards of the supposed enemy, and send the reed darts flying full in their faces: then they turn and fly as if for life. instantly, from the stranger ranks, three young men dart forth in eager pursuit; and behind them comes the solid column, rushing on at full speed. run now, o "sounding sea," (_tai haruru_), for the "black cloud" (_kapua mangu_), the swiftest of the rarawa, is at your back: run now, for the honour of your tribe and your own name, run! run! it was an exciting scene. the two famous runners came on at a tremendous pace, the dark mass of armed men following close behind at full speed, keeping their formation admirably, the ground shaking under them as they rushed on. on come the two runners (the others are left behind and disregarded). the pursuer gains upon his man; but they are fast nearing the goal, where, according to maori custom, the chase must end. run, "sounding sea;" another effort! your tribe are near in full array, and armed for the war dance; their friendly ranks are your refuge: run! run! on came the headlong race. when within about thirty yards of the place where our tribe was now formed in a solid oblong, each man kneeling on one knee, with musket held in both hands, butt to ground, and somewhat sloped to the front, the pursuing native caught at the shoulder of our man, touched it, but could do no more. here he must stop; to go farther would not be "correct." he will, however, boast everywhere that he has touched the shoulder of the famous "sounding sea." our man has not, however, been caught, which would have been a bad omen. at this moment the charging column comes thundering up to where their man is standing; instantly they all kneel upon one knee, holding their guns sloped before their faces, in the manner already described. the _élite_ of the two tribes are now opposite to each other, all armed, all kneeling, and formed in two solid oblong masses, the narrow end of the oblong to the front. only thirty yards divide them; but the front ranks do not gaze on each other: both parties turn their eyes towards the ground, and with heads bent downwards, and a little to one side, appear to listen. all is silence; you might have heard a pin drop. the uproar has turned to a calm; the men are kneeling statues; the chiefs have disappeared--they are in the centre of their tribes. the pakeha is beginning to wonder what will be the end of all this; and also to speculate on the efficacy of the buck shot with which his gun is loaded, and wishes it was ball. two minutes have elapsed in this solemn silence; the more remarkable as being the first quiet two minutes for the last two days and nights. suddenly from the extreme rear of the strangers' column is heard a scream--a horrid yell. a savage, of herculean stature, comes, _mere_ in hand, and rushing madly to the front. he seems hunted by all the furies. bedlam never produced so horrid a visage. thrice, as he advances, he gives that horrid cry; and thrice the armed tribe give answer with a long-drawn gasping sigh. he is at the front; he jumps into the air, shaking his stone weapon; the whites only of his eyes are visible, giving a most hideous appearance to his face; he shouts the first words of the war song, and instantly his tribe spring from the ground. it would be hard to describe the scene which followed. the roaring chorus of the war song; the horrid grimaces; the eyes all white; the tongues hanging out; the furious, yet measured, and uniform gesticulation, jumping, and stamping. i felt the ground plainly trembling. at last the war dance ended; and then my tribe (i find i am already beginning to get maorified), starting from the ground like a single man, endeavoured to out-do even their amiable friends' exhibition. they end; then the newcomers perform another demon dance; then my tribe give another. silence again prevails, and all sit down. immediately a man from the new-arrivals comes to the front of his own party; he runs to and fro; he speaks for his tribe; these are his words:--"peace is made! peace is made! peace is firm! peace is secure! peace! peace! peace!" this man is not a person of any particular consequence in his tribe, but his brother was killed by our people in the battle i have mentioned, and this gives him the right to be the first to proclaim peace. his speech is ended and he "falls in." some three or four others "follow on the same side." their speeches are short also, and nearly verbatim what the first was. then who, of all the world, starts forth from "ours," to speak on the side of "law and order," but my diabolical old acquaintance the "relation eater." i had by this time picked up a little maori, and could partly understand his speech. "welcome! welcome! welcome! peace is made! not till now has there been true peace! i have seen you, and peace is made!" here he broke out into a song, the chorus of which was taken up by hundreds of voices, and when it ended he made a sudden and very expressive gesture of scattering something with his hands, which was a signal to all present that the ceremonial was at an end for the time. our tribe at once disappeared into the pa, and at the same instant the strangers broke into a scattered mob, and made for the long shed which had been prepared for their reception, which was quite large enough, and the floor covered thickly with clean rushes to sleep on. about fifty or sixty then started for the border of the forest to bring their clothes and baggage, which had been left there as incumbrances to the movements of the performers in the ceremonials i have described. part, however, of the "_impedimenta_" had already arrived on the backs of about thirty boys, women, and old slaves; and i noticed amongst other things some casks of cartridges, which were, as i thought, rather ostentatiously exposed to view. i soon found the reason my friend of saturnine propensities had closed proceedings so abruptly was, that the tribe had many pressing duties of hospitality to fulfil, and that the heavy talking was to commence next day. i noticed also that to this time there had been no meeting of the chiefs, and, moreover, that the two parties had kept strictly separate: the nearest they had been to each other was thirty yards when the war dancing was going on, and they seemed quite glad, when the short speeches were over, to move off to a greater distance from each other. soon after the dispersion of the two parties, a firing of muskets was heard in and at the rear of the fort, accompanied by the squeaking, squealing, and dying groans of a whole herd of pigs. directly afterwards a mob of fellows were seen staggering under the weight of the dead pigs, and proceeding to the long shed already mentioned, in front of which they were flung down, _sans ceremonie_, and without a word spoken. i counted sixty-nine large fat pigs flung in one heap, one on the top of the other, before that part of the shed where the principal chief was sitting; twelve, were thrown before the interesting savage who had "started" the war dance; and several single porkers were thrown without any remark before certain others of the guests. the parties, however, to whom this compliment was paid, sat quietly saying nothing, and hardly appearing to see what was done. behind the pigs was placed, by the active exertion of two or three hundred people, a heap of potatoes and _kumera_, in quantity about ten tons, so there was no want of the raw material for a feast. the pigs and potatoes having been deposited, a train of women appeared--the whole, indeed, of the young and middle-aged women of the tribe. they advanced with a half-dancing, half-hopping sort of step, to the time of a wild but not unmusical chant, each woman holding high in both hands a smoking dish of some kind or other of maori delicacy, hot from the oven. the groundwork of this feast appeared to be sweet potatoes and _taro_, but on the top of each smoking mess was placed either dried shark, eels, mullet, or pork, all "piping hot." this treat was intended to stay our guests' stomachs till they could find time to cook for themselves. the women having placed the dishes, or, to speak more correctly, baskets, on the ground before the shed, disappeared; and in a miraculously short time the feast disappeared also, as was proved by seeing the baskets flung in twos, threes, and tens, empty out of the shed. next day, pretty early in the morning, i saw our chief (as i must call him for distinction) with a few of the principal men of the tribe, dressed in their best maori costume, taking their way towards the shed of the visitors. when they got pretty near, a cry of _haere mai!_ hailed them. they went on gravely, and observing where the principal chief was seated, our chief advanced towards him, fell upon his neck, embracing him in the most affectionate manner, and commenced a _tangi_, or melancholy sort of ditty, which lasted a full half-hour; during which, both parties, as in duty bound and in compliance with custom, shed floods of tears. how they managed to do it is more than i can tell to this day; except that i suppose you may train a man to do anything. right well do i know that either party would have almost given his life for a chance to exterminate the other with all his tribe; and twenty-seven years afterwards i saw the two tribes fighting in the very quarrel which was pretended to have been made up that day. before this, however, both these chiefs were dead, and others reigned in their stead. while the _tangi_ was going on between the two principals, the companions of our chief each selected one of the visitors, and, rushing into his arms, went through a similar scene. old "relation eater" singled out the horrific savage who had begun the war dance, and these two tenderhearted individuals, for a full half-hour, seated on the ground, hanging on each other's necks, gave vent to such a chorus of skilfully modulated howling as would have given momus the blue devils to listen to. after the _tangi_ was ended, the two tribes seated themselves in a large irregular circle on the plain; into this circle strode an orator, who, having said his say, was followed by another, and so the greater part of the day was consumed. no arms were to be seen in the hands of either party, except the greenstone _mere_ of the principal chiefs; but i took notice that about thirty of our people never left the nearest gate of the pa, and that their loaded muskets, although out of sight, were close at hand, standing against the fence inside the gate: i also perceived that under their cloaks or mats they wore their cartridge boxes and tomahawks. this caused me to observe the other party more closely. they also, i perceived, had some forty men sleeping in the shed; these fellows had not removed their cartridge boxes either, and all their companions' arms were carefully ranged behind them in a row, six or seven deep, against the back wall of the shed. the speeches of the orators were not very interesting, so i took a stroll to a little rising ground at about a hundred yards distance, where a company of natives, better dressed than common, were seated. they had the best sort of ornamented cloaks, and wore in their heads, feathers, which i already knew "commoners" could not afford to wear, as they were only to be procured some hundreds of miles to the south. i therefore concluded these were magnates or "personages" of some kind or other, and determined to introduce myself. as i approached, one of these splendid individuals nodded to me in a very familiar sort of manner, and i, not to appear rude, returned the salute. i stepped into the circle formed by my new friends, and had just commenced a _tena koutou_, when a breeze of wind came sighing along the hill-top; my friend nodded again, and his cloak blew to one side. what do i see?--or rather what do i not see? _the head has nobody under it!_ a number of heads had been stuck on slender rods, a cross stick being tied on to represent the shoulders, and the cloaks thrown over all in such a natural manner as to deceive any one at a short distance; but a green _pakeha_, who was not expecting any such matter, to a certainty. i fell back a yard or two, so as to take a full view of this silent circle, and felt that at last i had fallen into strange company. i began to look more closely at my companions, and to try to fancy what their characters in life had been. one had undoubtedly been a warrior; there was something bold and defiant about the look of the head. another was the head of a very old man, grey, shrivelled, and wrinkled. i was going on with my observations when i was saluted by a voice from behind with, "looking at the eds, sir?" it was one of the pakehas formerly mentioned. "yes," said i, turning round just the least possible thing quicker than ordinary. "eds has been a getting scarce," says he. "i should think so," says i. "we an't ad a ed this long time," says he. "the devil!" says i. "one o' them eds has been hurt bad," says he. "i should think all were rather so," says i. "oh, no, only one on 'em," says he; "the skull is split, and it won't fetch nothin'," says he. "oh, murder! i see, now," says i. "eds was _werry_ scarce," says he, shaking his own "ed." "ah!" said i. "they had to tattoo a slave a bit ago," says he, "and the villain ran away, tattooin' and all!" says he. "what?" said i. "bolted afore he was fit to kill," says he. "stole off with his own head?" says i. "that's just it," says he. "_capital_ felony!" says i. "you may say that, sir," says he. "good morning," said i, and walked away pretty smartly. "loose notions about heads in this country," said i to myself; and involuntarily putting up my hand to my own, i thought somehow the bump of combativeness felt smaller, or indeed had vanished altogether. "it's all very funny," said i. i walked down into the plain, and saw in one place a crowd of women, boys, and others. there was a great noise of lamentation going on. i went up to the crowd, and there beheld, lying on a clean mat, which was spread on the ground, another head. a number of women were standing in a row before it, screaming, wailing and quivering their hands about in a most extraordinary manner, and cutting themselves dreadfully with sharp flints and shells. one old woman, in the centre of the group, was one clot of blood from head to feet, and large clots of coagulated blood lay on the ground where she stood. the sight was absolutely horrible, i thought at the time. she was singing or howling a dirge-like wail. in her right hand she held a piece of _tuhua_, or volcanic glass, as sharp as a razor: this she placed deliberately to her left wrist, drawing it slowly upwards to her left shoulder, the spouting blood following as it went, and from the left shoulder downwards, across the breast to the short ribs on the right side; she then shifted the rude but keen knife from the right hand to the left, placed it to the right wrist, drawing it upwards to the right shoulder, and so down across the breast to the left side, thus making a bloody cross on the breast. and so the operation went on all the time i was there; the old creature all the time howling in time and measure, and keeping time, also with the knife, which at every cut was shifted from one hand to the other, as i have described. she had scored her forehead and cheeks before i came; her face and body were one mass of blood, and a little stream was dropping from every finger: a more hideous object could scarcely be conceived. i took notice that the younger women, though they screamed as loud, did not cut near so deep as the old woman; especially about the face. this custom has been falling gradually out of use; and when practised now, in these degenerate times, the cutting and maiming is a mere form: slight scratching to draw enough blood to swear by; but, in "the good old times," the thing used to be done properly. i often, of late years, have felt quite indignant to see some degenerate hussy making believe with a piece of flint in her hand, but who had no notion of cutting herself up properly as she ought to do. it shows a want of natural affection in the present generation, i think; they refuse to shed tears of blood for their friends as their mothers used to do. this head, i found on inquiry, was not the head of an enemy. a small party of our friends had been surprised, and two brothers were flying for their lives down a hill-side; a shot broke the leg of one of them and he fell. the enemy were close at hand; already the exulting cry "_na! na! mate rawa!_" was heard; and the wounded man cried to his brother, "do not leave my head a plaything for the foe." there was no time for deliberation. the brother _did not_ deliberate; a few slashes with the tomahawk saved his brother's head, and he escaped with it in his hand, dried it, and brought it home. the old woman was the mother, the young ones were cousins: there was no sister, as i heard, when i inquired. all the heads on the hill were heads of enemies, and several of them are now in museums in europe. with reference to the knowing remarks of the pakeha who accosted me on the hill on the state of the head market, i am bound to remark that my friend mr. ---- never speculated in this "article;" but the skippers of many of the colonial trading schooners were always ready to deal with a man who had "a real good head," and used to commission such men as my companion of the morning to "pick up heads" for them. it is a positive fact that some time after this the head of a live man was sold and paid for beforehand, and afterwards honestly delivered "as per agreement." the scoundrel slave who had the conscience to run away with his own head after the trouble and expense had been gone to to tattoo it to make it more valuable, is no fiction either. even in "the good old times" people would sometimes be found to behave in the most dishonest manner. but there are good and bad to be found in all times and places. now if there is one thing i hate more than another it is the raw-head-and-bloody-bones style of writing, and in these random reminiscences i shall avoid all particular mention of battles, massacres, and onslaughts; except there be something particularly characteristic of my friend the maori in them. as for mere hacking and hewing, there has been enough of that to be had in europe, asia, and america of late; and very well described too, by numerous "our correspondents." if i should have to fight a single combat or two, just to please the ladies, i shall do my best not to get killed; and i hereby promise not to kill any one myself, if i possibly can help it. i, however, hope to be excused for the last two or three pages, as it was necessary to point out that in the good old times, if one's own head was not sufficient, it was quite practicable to get another. i must, however, get rid of our visitors. next day, at daylight, they disappeared: canoes from their own tribe had come to meet them (the old woman with the flint had arrived in these canoes), and they departed _sans ceremonie_, taking with them all that was left of the pigs and potatoes which had been given them, and also the "fine lot of eds." their departure was felt as a great relief; and though it was satisfactory to know peace was made, it was even more so to be well rid of the peacemakers. hail, lovely peace, daughter of heaven! meek-eyed inventor of armstrong guns and enfield rifles; you of the liquid-fire-shell, hail! shooter at "bulls'-eyes," trainer of battalions, killer of wooden frenchmen, hail! (a bit of fine writing does one good.) nestling under thy wing, i will scrape sharp the point of my spear with a _pipi_ shell; i will carry fern-root into my pa; i will _cure_ those heads which i have killed in war, or they will spoil and "won't fetch nothin'": for these are thy arts, o peace! chapter iv. a little affair of "flotsam and jetsam."--rebellion crushed in the bud.--a pakeha's house sacked.--maori law.--a maori lawsuit. --affair thrown into chancery. pakehas, though precious in the good old times, would sometimes get into awkward scrapes. accidents, i have observed, will happen at the best of times. some time after the matters i have been recounting happened, two of the pakehas, who were "knocking about" mr. ----'s premises, went fishing. one of them was a very respectable old man-of-war's man, the other was the connoisseur of heads; who, i may as well mention, was thought to be one of that class who never could remember to a nicety how they had come into the country, or where they came from. it so happened that on their return, the little boat, not being well fastened, went adrift in the night, and was cast on shore at about four miles distance, in the dominions of a petty chief who was a sort of vassal or retainer of ours. he did not belong to the tribe, and lived on the land by the permission of our chief as a sort of tenant at will. of late an ill-feeling had grown up between him and the principal chief. the vassal had in fact begun to show some airs of independence, and had collected more men about him than our chief cared to see; but up to this time there had been no regular outbreak between them: possibly because the vassal had not yet sufficient force to declare independence formally. our chief was, however, watching for an excuse to fall out with him before he should grow too strong. as soon as it was heard where the boat was, the two men went for it as a matter of course; little thinking that this encroaching vassal would have the insolence to claim the right of "flotsam and jetsam," which belonged to the principal chief, and which was always waived in favour of his pakehas. on arrival, however, at this rebellious chief's dominions, they were informed that it was his intention to stick to the boat until he was paid a "stocking of gunpowder"--meaning a quantity as much as a stocking would hold, which was the regular standard measure in those days in that locality. a stocking of gunpowder! who ever heard of such an awful imposition? the demand was enormous in value and rebellious in principle. the thing must be put an end to at once. the principal chief did not hesitate: rebellion must be crushed in the bud. he at once mustered his whole force (he did not approve of "little wars"), and sent them off under the command of the relation eater, who served an ejectment in regular maori form, by first plundering the village and then burning it to ashes; also destroying the cultivation and provisions, and forcing the vassal to decamp with all his people on pain of instant massacre--a thing they did not lose a moment in doing; and i don't think they either ate or slept till they had got fifty miles off, where a tribe related to them received them and gave them a welcome. well, about three months after this, about day-light in the morning, i was aroused by a great uproar of men shouting, doors smashing, and women screaming. up i jumped, and pulling on a few clothes in less time, i am sure, than ever i had done before my in life, out i ran, and at once perceived that mr. ----'s premises were being sacked by the rebellious vassal, who had returned with about fifty men, and was taking this means of revenging himself for the rough handling he had received from our chief. men were rushing in mad haste through the smashed windows and doors, loaded with anything and everything they could lay hands on. the chief was stamping against the door of a room in which he was aware the most valuable goods were kept, and shouting for help to break it open. a large canoe was floating close to the house, and was being rapidly filled with plunder. i saw a fat old maori woman, who was washerwoman to the establishment, being dragged along the ground by a huge fellow who was trying to tear from her grasp one of my shirts, to which she clung with perfect desperation. i perceived at a glance that the faithful old creature would probably save a sleeve. a long line of similar articles, my property, which had graced the _taiepa_ fence the night before, had disappeared. the old man-of-war's man had placed his back exactly opposite to that part of the fence where hung a certain striped cotton shirt and well-scrubbed canvas trowsers, which _could_ belong to no one but himself. he was "hitting out" lustily right and left. mr. ---- had been absent some days on a journey, and the head merchant, as we found after all was over, was hiding under a bed. when the old sailor saw me, he "sang out," in a voice clear as a bell, and calculated to be distinctly heard above the din:--"hit out, sir, if you please; let's make a fight of it the best we can; our mob will be here in five minutes; tahuna has run to fetch them." while he thus gave both advice and information, he also set a good example, having delivered just one thump per word, or thereabouts. the odds were terrible, but the time was short that i was required to fight; so i at once floored a native who was rushing by me. he fell like a man shot, and i then perceived he was one of our own people who had been employed about the place; so, to balance things, i knocked down another, and then felt myself seized round the waist from behind, by a fellow who seemed to be about as strong as a horse. at this moment i cast an anxious glance around the field of battle. the old maori woman had, as i expected, saved a good half of my shirt; she had got on the top of an outhouse, and was waving it in a "sister anne" sort of manner, and calling to an imaginary friendly host which she pretended to see advancing to the rescue. the old sailor had fallen under, but not surrendered to, superior force. three natives had got him down; but it took all they could do to _keep_ him down: he was evidently carrying out his original idea of making a fight of it, and gaining time. the striped shirt and canvas trowsers still hung proudly on the fence; none of his assailants could spare a second to pull them down. i was kicking and flinging in the endeavour to extricate myself; or, at least, to turn round, so as to carry out a "face to face" policy: which it would be a grand mistake to suppose was not understood long ago in the good old times. i had nearly succeeded, and was thinking what particular form of destruction i should shower on the foe, when a tremendous shout was heard. it was "our mob" coming to the rescue; and, like heroes of old, "sending their voice before them." in an instant both myself and the gallant old tar were released; the enemy dashed on board their canoe, and in another moment were off, darting away before a gale of wind and a fair tide at a rate that put half a mile at least between them and us before our protectors came up. "load the gun!" cried the sailor--(there was a nine-pound carronade on the cliff before the house, overlooking the river). a cartridge was soon found, and a shot, and the gun loaded. "slew her a little," cried my now commander; "fetch a fire stick." "aye, aye, sir" (from self). "wait a little; that will do--fire!"--(in a voice as if ordering the discharge of the whole broadside of a three-decker). bang! the elevation was perfectly correct. the shot struck the water at exactly the right distance, and only a few feet to one side. a very few feet more to the right and the shot would have entered the stern of the canoe, and, as she was end on to us, would have killed half the people in her. a miss, however, is as good as a mile off. the canoe disappeared behind a point, and there we were with an army of armed friends around us, who, by making great expedition, had managed to come exactly in time to be too late. this was a _taua muru_ (a robbing expedition) in revenge for the leader having been cleaned out by our chief, which gave them the right to rob any one connected with, related to, or under the protection of, our chief aforesaid, provided always that they were able. we, on the other hand, had the clear right to kill any of the robbers, which would then have given them the right to kill us; but until we killed some of them, it would not have been "correct" for them to have taken life, so they managed the thing neatly, in order that they should have no occasion to do so. the whole proceeding was unobjectionable in every respect, and _tika_ (correct). had we put in our nine-pound shot at the stern of their canoe, it would have been correct also; but as we were not able, we had no right whatever to complain. the above is good law: and here i may as well inform the new zealand public that i am going to write the whole law of this land in a book, which i shall call "_ko nga ture_;" and as i intend it for the good of both races, i shall mix the two languages up in such a way that neither can understand; but this does not matter, as i shall add a "glossary," in coptic, to make things clear. some time after this, a little incident worth noting happened at my friend mr. ----'s place. our chief had, for some time back, a sort of dispute with another magnate, who lived about ten miles off. i really cannot say who was in the right: the arguments on both sides were so nearly balanced, that i should not like to commit myself to a judgment in the case. the question was at last brought to a fair hearing at my friend's house. the arguments on both sides were very forcible; so much so that in the course of the arbitration our chief and thirty of his principal witnesses were shot dead in a heap before my friend's door, and sixty others badly wounded, and my friend's house and store blown up and burnt to ashes. my friend was all but, or, indeed, quite ruined; but it would not have been "correct" for him to complain--_his_ loss in goods being far overbalanced by the loss of the tribe in men. he was, however, consoled by hundreds of friends who came in large parties to condole and _tangi_ with him, and who, as was quite correct in such cases, shot and ate all his stock, sheep, pigs, goats, ducks, geese, fowls, &c., all in high compliment to himself: at which he felt proud, as a well conducted and conditioned pakeha maori (as he was) should do. he did not, however, survive these honours long, poor fellow. he died; and, strange to say, no one knew exactly what was the matter with him: some said it was the climate, they thought. after this, the land about which this little misunderstanding had arisen, was, so to speak, "thrown into chancery," where it has now remained about forty years. but i hear that proceedings are to commence _de novo_ (no allusion to the "new system") next summer, or at farthest the summer after; and as i witnessed the first proceedings, when the case comes on again "may i be there to see." chapter v. every englishman's house is his castle.--my estate and castle.-- how i purchased my estate.--native titles to land, of what nature. --value of land in new zealand.--land commissioners.--the triumphs of eloquence.--magna charta. "every englishman's house is his castle," "i scorn the foreign yoke," and glory in the name of briton, and all that. the natural end, however, of all castles is to be burnt or blown up. in england it is true you can call the constable, and should any foreign power attack you with grinding organ and white mice, you may hope for succours from without; from which cause "castles" in england are more long-lived. in new zealand, however, it is different, as, to the present day, the old system prevails, and castles continue to be disposed of in the natural way, as has been seen lately at taranaki. i now purchased a piece of land and built a "castle" for myself. i really can't tell to the present day who i purchased the land from, for there were about fifty different claimants, every one of whom assured me that the other forty-nine were "humbugs," and had no right whatever. the nature of the different titles of the different claimants were various. one man said his ancestors had killed off the first owners; another declared his ancestors had driven off the second party; another man, who seemed to be listened to with more respect than ordinary, declared that his ancestor had been the first possessor of all, and had never been ousted, and that this ancestor was a huge lizard that lived in a cave on the land many ages ago: and, sure enough, there was the cave to prove it. besides the principal claims there were an immense number of secondary ones--a sort of latent equities--which had lain dormant until it was known the pakeha had his eye on the land. some of them seemed to me at the time odd enough. one man required payment because his ancestors, as he affirmed, had exercised the right of catching rats on it; but which he (the claimant) had never done, for the best of reasons, _i.e._, there were no rats to catch: except indeed pakeha rats, which were plenty enough, but this variety of rodent was not counted as game. another claimed because his grandfather had been murdered on the land, and--as i am a veracious pakeha--another claimed payment because _his_ grandfather had committed the murder! then half the country claimed payments of various value, from one fig of tobacco to a musket, on account of a certain _wahi tapu_, or ancient burying-ground, which was on the land, and in which every one almost had had relations or rather ancestors buried, as they could clearly make out, in old times; though no one had been deposited in it for about two hundred years, and the bones of the others had been (as they said) removed long ago to a _torere_ in the mountains. it seemed an awkward circumstance that there was some difference of opinion as to where this same _wahi tapu_ was situated, being, and lying; for in case of my buying the land it was stipulated that i should fence it round and make no use of it, although i had paid for it. i, however, have put off fencing till the exact boundaries have been made out; and indeed i don't think i shall ever be called on to do so, the fencing proviso having been made, as i now believe, to give a stronger look of reality to the existence of the sacred spot, it having been observed that i had some doubts on the subject. no mention was ever made of it after the payments had been all made, and so i think i may venture to affirm that the existence of the said _wahi tapu_ is of very doubtful authenticity, though it certainly cost me a round "lot of trade." there was one old man who obstinately persisted in declaring that he, and he alone, was the sole and rightful owner of the land; he seemed also to have a "fixed idea" about certain barrels of gunpowder; but as he did not prove his claim to my satisfaction, and as he had no one to back him, i of course gave him nothing; he nevertheless demanded the gunpowder about once a month for five-and-twenty years, till at last he died of old age, and i am now a landed proprietor, clear of all claims and demands, and have an undeniable right to hold my estate as long as ever i am able. it took about three months' negotiation before the purchase of the land could be made; and, indeed, i at one time gave up the idea, as i found it quite impossible to decide whom to pay. if i paid one party, the others vowed i should never have possession, and to pay all seemed impossible; so at last i let all parties know that i had made up my mind not to have the land. this, however, turned out to be the first step i had made in the right direction; for, thereupon, all the different claimants agreed amongst themselves to demand a certain quantity of goods, and divide them amongst themselves afterwards. i was glad of this, for i wished to buy the land, as i thought, in case i should ever take a trip to the "colonies," it would look well to be able to talk of "my estate in new zealand." the day being now come on which i was to make the payment, and all parties present, i then and there handed over to the assembled mob the price of the land, consisting of a great lot of blankets, muskets, tomahawks, tobacco, spades, axes, &c., &c.; and received in return a very dirty piece of paper with all their marks on it, i having written the terms of transfer on it in english to my own perfect satisfaction. the cost per acre to me was, as near as can be, about five and a half times what the same quantity of land would have cost me at the same time in tasmania. but this was not of much importance, as the value of land in new zealand then (and indeed now) being chiefly imaginary, one could just as easily suppose it to be of a very great value as a very small one; i therefore did not complain of the cost. while i am on the subject of land and land titles, i may as well here mention that many years after the purchase of my land i received notice to appear before certain persons called "land commissioners," who were part and parcel of the new inventions which had come up soon after the arrival of the first governor, and which are still a trouble to the land. i was informed that i must appear and prove my title to the land i have mentioned, on pain of forfeiture of the same. now, i could not see what right any one could have to plague me in this way, and if i had had no one but the commissioners and two or three hundred men of their tribe to deal with, i should have put my pa in fighting order, and told them to "come on;" for before this time i had had occasion to build a pa, in consequence of a little misunderstanding, and being a regularly naturalized member of a strong tribe, could raise men to defend it at the shortest notice. but somehow these people had cunningly managed to mix up the name of queen victoria, god bless her! (no disparagement to king potatau) in the matter; and i, though a pakeha maori, am a loyal subject of her majesty, and will stick up and fight for her as long as ever i can muster a good imitation of courage, or a leg to stand upon. this being the case, i made a very unwilling appearance at the court, and explained and defended my title to the land in an oration of four hours' and a half duration; and which, though i was much out of practice, i flatter myself was a good specimen of english rhetoric, and, for its own merits--as well as for another reason which i was not aware of at the time--was listened to by the court with the greatest patience. when i had concluded, and been asked "if i had anything more to say?" i saw the commissioner beginning to count my words, which had been all written, i suppose, in short-hand; and having ascertained how many thousand i had spoken, he handed me a bill, in which i was charged by the word, for every word i had spoken, at the rate of one farthing and one twentieth per word. oh, cicero! oh, demosthenes! oh, pitt, fox, burke, sheridan! oh, daniel o'connell! what would have become of you, if such a stopper had been clapt on your jawing tackle? fame would never have cracked her trumpet, and "dan" would never have raised the _rint_. for my part i have never recovered the shock. i have since that time become taciturn, and have adopted a spartan brevity when forced to speak, and i fear i shall never again have the full swing of my mother tongue. besides this, i was charged ten shillings each for a little army of witnesses i had brought, by way of being on the sure side--five shillings a head for calling them into court, and five more for "examining" them; said examination consisting of one question each, after which they were told to "be off." i do believe had i brought up a whole tribe, as i had thoughts of doing, the commissioners would not have minded examining them all. they were, i am bound to say, very civil and polite; one of them told me i was "a damned, infernal, clever fellow, and he should like to see a good many more like me." i hope i am not getting tedious; but this business made such an impression on me, that i can't help being too prolix, perhaps, when describing it. i have, however, often since that time had my doubts whether the queen (god bless her) got the money, or knew half as much of the affair as they wanted to make out. i _don't_ believe it. our noble queen would be clean above such a proceeding; and i mean to say it's against magna charta, it is! "justice shall _not be sold_," saith magna charta; and if it's not selling justice to make a loyal pakeha maori pay for every word he speaks when defending his rights in a court of justice, i don't know what is. well, to make matters up, they after some time gave me a title for my land (as if i had not one before); but then, after some years, they made me give it back again, on purpose, as they said, that they might give me a better! but since that time several more years have passed, and i have not got it; so, as these things are now all the fashion, "i wish i may get it." chapter vi. how i kept house.--maori freebooters.--an ugly customer.--the "suaviter in modo."--a single combat to amuse the ladies.--the true maori gentleman.--character of the maori people. i never yet could get the proper knack of telling a story. here i am now, a good forty years ahead of where i ought to be, talking of "title deeds" and "land commissioners," things belonging to the new and deplorable state of affairs which began when this country became "a british colony and possession," and also "one of the brightest jewels in the british crown." i must go back. having purchased my "estate," i set up housekeeping. my house was a good commodious _raupo_ building; and as i had a princely income of a few hundred a year "in trade," i kept house in a very magnificent and hospitable style. i kept always eight stout paid maori retainers; the pay being one fig of tobacco per week, and their potatoes, which was about as much more. their duties were not heavy; being chiefly to amuse themselves fishing, wrestling, shooting pigeons, or pig-hunting, with an occasional pull in the boat when i went on a water excursion. besides these paid retainers, there was always about a dozen hangers on, who considered themselves apart of the establishment, and who, no doubt, managed to live at my expense; but as that expense was merely a few hundredweight of potatoes a week, and an odd pig now and then, it was not perceptible in the good old times. indeed these hangers on, as i call them, were necessary; for now and then, in those brave old times, little experiments would be made by certain maori gentlemen of freebooting propensities, who were in great want of "british manufactures," to see what could be got by bullying "the pakeha," and to whom a good display of physical force was the only argument worth notice. these gentry generally came from a long distance, made a sudden appearance, and, thanks to my faithful retainers--who, as a matter of course, were all bound to fight for me, though i should have found it hard to get much _work_ out of them--made as sudden a retreat; though on one or two occasions, when my standing army were accidentally absent, i had to do battle single-handed. i think i have promised somewhere that i would perform a single combat for the amusement of the ladies, and i may as well do it now as at any other time. i shall, therefore, recount a little affair i had with one of these gentry; as it is indeed quite necessary i should, if i am to give any true idea of "the good old times." i must, however, protest against the misdeeds of a few ruffians--human wolves--being charged against the whole of their countrymen. at the time i am speaking of, the only restraint on such people was the fear of retaliation, and the consequence was, that often a dare-devil savage would run a long career of murder, robbery, and outrage, before meeting with a check, simply from the terror he inspired, and the "luck" which often accompanies outrageous daring. at a time, however, and in a country like new zealand, where every man was a fighting man or nothing, these desperadoes, sooner or later, came to grief; being at last invariably shot, or run through the body, by some sturdy freeholder, whose rights they had invaded. i had two friends staying with me, young men who had come to see me from the neighbouring colonies, and to take a summer tour in new zealand; and it so happened that no less than three times during my absence from home, and when i had taken almost all my people along with me, my castle had been invaded by one of the most notorious ruffians who had ever been an impersonation of, or lived by, the law of force. this interesting specimen of the _genus homo_ had, on the last of these visits, demanded that my friends should hand over to him one pair of blankets; but as the prospectus he produced, with respect to payment, was not at all satisfactory, my friends declined to enter into the speculation, the more particularly as the blankets were mine. our freebooting acquaintance then, to explain his views more clearly, knocked both my friends down; threatened to kill them both with his tomahawk; then rushed into the bedroom, dragged out all the bedclothes, and burnt them on the kitchen fire. this last affair was rather displeasing to me. i held to the theory that every englishman's house was his castle, and was moreover rather savage at my guests having been so roughly handled. in fact i began to feel that, though i had up to this time managed to hold my own pretty well, i was at last in danger of falling under the imposition of "black mail," and losing my _status_ as an independent potentate--a _rangatira_ of the first water. i then and there declared loudly that it was well for the offender that i had not been at home, and that if ever he tried his tricks with _me_ he would find out his mistake. these declarations of war, i perceived, were heard by my men in a sort of incredulous silence (silence in new zealand gives _dis_-sent), and though the fellows were stout chaps who would not mind a row with any ordinary mortal, i verily believe they would have all run at the first appearance of this redoubted ruffian. indeed his antecedents had been such as might have almost been their excuse. he had killed several men in fair fight, and had also--as was well known--committed two most diabolical murders; one of which was on his own wife, a fine young woman, whose brains he blew out at half a second's notice for no further provocation than this:--he was sitting in the verandah of his house, and told her to bring him a light for his pipe. she, being occupied in domestic affairs, said, "can't you fetch it yourself? i am going for water." she had the calibash in her hand and their infant child on her back. he snatched up his gun and instantly shot her dead on the spot; and i had heard him afterwards describing quite coolly the comical way in which her brains had been knocked out by the shot with which the gun was loaded. he also had, for some trifling provocation, lopped off the arm of his own brother, or cousin, i forget which; and was, altogether, from his tremendous bodily strength and utter insensibility to danger, about as "ugly a customer" as one would care to meet. i am now describing a regular maori ruffian of the good old times; the natural growth of a state of society wherein might was to a very great extent right, and where bodily strength and courage were almost the sole qualities for which a man was respected or valued. he was a bullet-headed, scowling, bow-legged, broad-shouldered, herculean savage, and all these qualifications combined made him unquestionably "a great _rangatira_;" and, as he had never been defeated, his _mana_ was in full force. a few weeks after the affair of the blankets, as i was sitting all alone reading a sydney newspaper (which, being only a year old, was highly interesting), my friends and all my natives having gone on an expedition to haul a large fishing-net, whom should i see enter the room and squat down on the floor, as if taking permanent possession, but the amiable and highly interesting individual i have taken so much trouble to describe. he said nothing, but his posture and countenance spoke whole volumes of defiance and murderous intent. he had heard of the threats i had made against him, and there he was; let me turn him out if i dare. that was his meaning,--there was no mistaking it. i have all my life been an admirer of the _suaviter in modo_; though it is quite out of place in new zealand. if you tell a man--a maori i mean--in a gentle tone of voice and with a quiet manner that if he continues a given line of conduct you will begin to commence to knock him down, he simply disbelieves you, and thereby forces you to do that which, if you could have persuaded yourself to have spoken very uncivilly at first, there would have been no occasion for. i have seen many proofs of this, and though i have done my best for many years to improve the understanding of my maori friends in this particular, i find still there are but very few who can understand at all how it is possible that the _suaviter in modo_ can be combined with the _fortiter in re_. they in fact can't understand it, for some reason perfectly inexplicable to me. it was, however, quite a matter of indifference, i could perceive, how i should open proceedings with my friend; as he evidently meant mischief. "habit is second nature," so i instinctively took to the _suaviter_. "friend," said i, in a very mild tone, and with as amiable a smile as i could get up, in spite of a certain clenching of the teeth which somehow came on me at the moment, "my advice to you is to be off." he seemed to nestle himself firmer in his seat, and made no answer but a scowl of defiance. "i am thinking, friend, that this is my house," said i; and springing upon him, i placed my foot to his shoulder and gave a shove which would have sent most people heels over head. not so, however, with my friend. it shook him, certainly, a little; but in an instant, as quick as lightning, and as it appeared with a single motion, he bounded from the ground, flung his mat away over his head, and struck a furious blow at my head with his tomahawk. i escaped instant death by a quickness equal to or greater than his own. my eye was quick, and so was my arm: life was at stake. i caught the tomahawk in full descent: the edge grazed my hand; but my arm, stiffened like a bar of iron, arrested the blow. he made one furious, but ineffectual, effort to tear the tomahawk from my grasp; and then we seized one another round the middle, and struggled like maniacs in the endeavour to dash each other against the boarded floor; i holding on for dear life to the tomahawk, and making desperate efforts to get it from him, but without a chance of success, as it was fastened to his wrist by a strong thong of leather. he was, as i soon found, somewhat stronger than me, and heavier; but i was as active as a cat, and as long-winded as an emu, and very far from weak. at last he got a _wiri_ round my leg; and had it not been for the table on which we both fell, and which, in smashing to pieces, broke our fall, i might have been disabled, and in that case instantly tomahawked. we now rolled over and over on the floor like two mad bulldogs; he trying to bite, and i trying to stun him by dashing his bullet head against the floor. up again!--still both holding on to the tomahawk. another furious struggle, in the course of which both our heads, and half our bodies, were dashed through the two glass windows in the room, and every single article of furniture was reduced to atoms. down again, rolling like mad, and dancing about amongst the rubbish--the wreck of the house. by this time we were both covered with blood from various wounds, received i don't know how. i had been all this time fighting under a great disadvantage, for my friend was trying to kill me, and i was only trying to disarm and tie him up--a much harder thing than to kill. my reason for going to this trouble was, that as there were no witnesses to the row, if i killed him, i might have had serious difficulties with his tribe. up again; another terrific tussle for the tomahawk; down again with a crash: and so this life or death battle went on, down and up, up and down, for a full hour. at last i perceived that my friend was getting weaker, and felt that victory was only now a question of time. i, so far from being fatigued, was even stronger. we had another desperate wrestling match. i lifted my friend high in my arms, and dashed him, panting, furious, foaming at the mouth--but _beaten_--against the ground. there he lies: the worshipper of force. his god has deserted him. but no, not yet. he has one more chance; and a fatal one it nearly proved to me. i began to unfasten the tomahawk from his wrist. an odd expression came over his countenance. he spoke for the first time. "enough! i am beaten; let me rise." now i had often witnessed the manly and becoming manner in which some maoris can take defeat, when they have been defeated in what they consider fair play. i had also ceased to fear my friend, and so incautiously let go his left arm. quick as lightning, he snatched at a large carving fork, which, unperceived by me, was lying on the floor amongst the smashed furniture and _débris_ of my household effects; his fingers touched the handle and it rolled away out of his reach: my life was saved. he then struck me with all his remaining force on the side of the head, causing the blood to flow out of my mouth. one more short struggle, and he was conquered. but now i had at last got angry: the drunkenness, the exhilaration of fight, which comes on some constitutions, was fairly on me. i had also a consciousness that now i must kill my man, or, sooner or later, he would kill me. i thought of the place i would bury him; how i would stun him first with the back of the tomahawk, to prevent too much blood being seen; how i would then carry him off (i could carry two such men now, easy): i would _murder_ him and cover him up. i unwound the tomahawk from his wrist: he was passive and helpless now. i wished he was stronger, and told him to get up and "die standing," as his countrymen say. i clutched the tomahawk for the _coup-de-grace_ (i can't help it, young ladies, the devil is in me);--at this instant a thundering sound of feet is heard--a whole tribe are coming! now am i either lost or saved!--saved from doing that which i should afterwards repent, though constrained by necessity to do it. the rush of charging feet comes closer, and in an instant comes dashing and smashing through doors and windows, in breathless haste and alarm, a whole tribe of friends. small ceremony now with my antagonist. he was dragged by the heels, stamped on, kicked, and thrown half-dead, or nearly quite dead, into his canoe. all the time we had been fighting, a little slave imp of a boy belonging to my antagonist had been loading the canoe with my goods and chattels, and had managed to make a very fair plunder of it. these were all now brought back by my friends, except one cloth jacket, which happened to be concealed under the _whariki_; and which i only mention because i remember that the attempt to recover it some time afterwards cost one of my friends his life. the savage scoundrel, who had so nearly done for me, broke two of his ribs, and so otherwise injured him that he never recovered, and died after lingering about a year. my friends were going on a journey, and had called to see me as they passed. they saw the slave boy employed as i have stated, and knowing to whom he belonged had rushed at once to the rescue, little expecting to find me alive. i may as well now dispose of this friend of mine, by giving his after history. he for a long time after our fight went continually armed with a double gun, and said he would shoot me wherever he met me; he however had had enough of attacking me in my "castle," and so did not call there any more. i also went continually armed, and took care also to have always some of my people at hand. after this, this fellow committed two more murders, and also killed in fair fight with his own hand the first man in a native battle, in which the numbers on each side were about three hundred, and which i witnessed. the man he killed was a remarkably fine young fellow, a great favourite of mine. at last, having attacked and attempted to murder another native, he was shot through the heart by the person he attempted to murder, and fell dead on the spot, and so there died "a great _rangatira_." his tribe quietly buried him and said no more about it, which showed their sense of right. had he been killed in what they considered an unjust manner, they would have revenged his death at any cost; but i have no doubt they themselves were glad to get rid of him, for he was a terror to all about him. i have been in many a scrape both by sea and land, but i must confess that i never met a more able hand at an argument than this maori _rangatira_. i have not mentioned my friend's name with whom i had this discussion on the rights of englishmen, because he has left a son, who is a great _rangatira_, and who might feel displeased if i was too particular; and i am not quite so able now to carry out a "face-to-face" policy as i was a great many years ago: besides there is a sort of "honour-amongst-thieves" feeling between myself and my maori friends on certain matters which we mutually understand are not for the ears of the "new people." now, ladies, i call that a fairish good fight, considering no one is killed on either side. i promise to be good in future and to keep the peace, if people will let me; and indeed, i may as well mention, that from that day to this i have never had occasion to explain again to a maori how it is that "every englishman's house is his castle." "fair play is a jewel;" and i will here, as bound in honour to do, declare that i have met amongst the natives with men who would be a credit to any nation; men on whom nature had plainly stamped the mark of "noble," of the finest bodily form, quick and intelligent in mind, polite and brave, and capable of the most self-sacrificing acts for the good of others; patient, forbearing, and affectionate in their families: in a word, gentlemen. these men were the more remarkable as they had grown up surrounded by a set of circumstances of the most unfavourable kind for the development of the qualities of which they were possessed; and i have often looked on with admiration, when i have seen them protesting against, and endeavouring to restrain some of, the dreadful barbarities of their countrymen. as for the maori people in general, they are neither so good nor so bad as their friends and enemies have painted them, and i suspect are pretty much like what almost any other people would have become, if subjected for ages to the same external circumstances. for ages they have struggled against necessity in all its shapes. this has given to them a remarkable greediness for gain in every visible and immediately tangible form. it has even left its mark on their language. without the aid of iron the most trifling tool or utensil could only be procured by an enormously disproportionate outlay of labour in its construction, and, in consequence, it became precious to a degree scarcely conceivable by people of civilized and wealthy countries. this great value attached to personal property of all kinds, increased proportionately the temptation to plunder; and where no law existed, or could exist, of sufficient force to repress the inclination, every man, as a natural consequence, became a soldier; if it were only for the defence of his own property and that of those who were banded with him--his tribe, or family. from this state of things regular warfare arose, as a matter of course; the military art was studied as a science, and brought to great perfection, as applied to the arms used; and a marked military character was given to the people. the necessity of labour, the necessity of warfare, and a temperate climate, gave them strength of body, accompanied by a perseverance and energy of mind, perfectly astonishing. with rude and blunt stones they felled the giant kauri--toughest of pines; and from it, in process of time, at an expense of labour, perseverance, and ingenuity, perfectly astounding to those who know what it really was, produced, carved, painted, and inlaid, a masterpiece of art, and an object of beauty--the war canoe, capable of carrying a hundred men on a distant expedition, through the boisterous seas surrounding their island. as a consequence of their warlike habits and character, they are self-possessed and confident in themselves and their own powers, and have much diplomatic finesse and casuistry at command. their intelligence causes them theoretically to acknowledge the benefits of law, which they see established amongst us; but their hatred of restraint causes them practically to abhor and resist its full enforcement amongst themselves. doubting our professions of friendship, fearing our ultimate designs, led astray by false friends, possessed of that "little learning" which is, in their case, most emphatically "a dangerous thing," and divided amongst themselves,--such are the people with whom we are now in contact--such the people to whom, for our own safety and their preservation, we must give new laws and institutions, new habits of life, new ideas, sentiments and information--whom we must either civilize or, by our mere contact, exterminate. how is this to be done?[ ] let me see. i think i shall not answer this question until i am prime minister. [ ] printer's devil.--how is _this_ to be done?--_which?_--_civilize_ or _exterminate_? pakeha maori.--_eaha mau._ chapter vii. excitement caused by first contact with europeans.--the two great institutions of maori land.--the muru.--the tapu. instances of legal robbery.--descriptions and examples of the muru.--profit and loss.--explanation of some of the workings of the law of muru. the natives have been for fifty years or more in a continual state of excitement on one subject or another: this has had a markedly bad effect on their character and physical condition, as i shall by-and-by take occasion to point out. when the first straggling ships came here, the smallest bit of iron was a prize so inestimable that i might be thought to exaggerate were i to tell the bare truth on the subject. the excitement and speculation caused by a ship being seen off the coast were immense. where would she anchor? what _iron_ could be got from her? would it be possible to seize her? the oracle was consulted, preparations were made to follow her along the coast, even through an enemy's country, at all risks; and when she disappeared she was not forgotten, but would continue long to be the subject of anxious expectation and speculation. after this, regular trading began. the great madness then was for muskets and gunpowder. a furious competition was kept up. should any tribe fail to procure a stock of these articles as soon as its neighbours, extermination was its probable doom. we may then imagine the excitement, the over-labour, the hardship, the starvation (occasioned by crops neglected whilst labouring to produce flax or other commodity demanded in payment)--i say imagine, but i have seen at least part of it. after the demand for arms was supplied, came a perfect furor for iron tools, instruments of husbandry, clothing, and all kinds of pakeha manufactures. these things having been quite beyond their means while they were supplying themselves with arms, they were in the most extreme want of them; particularly iron tools. a few years ago the madness ran upon horses and cattle; now, young new zealand believes in nothing but money, and they are continually tormenting themselves with plans to acquire it in large sums at once, without the trouble of slow and saving industry; which, as applied to the accumulation of money, they neither approve of nor understand: nor will they ever, as a people, take this mode till convinced that money, like everything else of value, can only be procured as a rule by giving full value for it, either in labour or the produce of labour. here i am, i find, again before my story. right down to the present time, talking of "young new zealand," and within a hair's-breadth of settling "the maori difficulty" without having been paid for it; which would have been a great oversight, and contrary to the customs of new zealand. i must go back. there were in the old times two great institutions, which ruled with iron rod in maori land--the _tapu_ and the _muru_. pakehas who knew no better called the _muru_ simply "robbery," because the word _muru_, in its common signification, means to plunder. but i speak of the regular legalized and established system of plundering, as penalty for offences; which in a rough way resembled our law by which a man is obliged to pay "damages." great abuses had, however, crept into this system--so great, indeed, as to render the retention of any sort of movable property almost an impossibility, and in a great measure, too, discourage the inclination to labour for its acquisition. these great inconveniences were, however, met, or in some degree softened, by an expedient of a peculiarly maori nature, which i shall by-and-by explain. the offences for which people were plundered were sometimes of a nature which, to a _mere_ pakeha, would seem curious. a man's child fell in the fire and was almost burnt to death. the father was immediately plundered to an extent that almost left him without the means of subsistence: fishing-nets, canoes, pigs, provisions--all went. his canoe upset, and he and all his family narrowly escaped drowning--some were, perhaps, drowned. he was immediately robbed, and well pummelled with a club into the bargain, if he was not good at the science of self-defence--the club part of the ceremony being always fairly administered one against one, and after fair warning given to defend himself. he might be clearing some land for potatoes, burning off the fern, and the fire spreads farther than he intended, and gets into a _wahi tapu_ or burial-ground. no matter whether any one has been buried in it or no for the last hundred years: he is tremendously robbed. in fact, for ten thousand different causes a man might be robbed; and i can really imagine a case in which a man for scratching his own head might be legally robbed. now as the enforcers of this law were also the parties who received the damages, as well as the judges of the amount--which in many cases (such as that of the burnt child) would be everything they could by any means lay hands on--it is easy to perceive that under such a system, personal property was an evanescent sort of thing altogether. these executions or distraints were never resisted. indeed in many cases (as i shall explain by-and-by), it would have been felt as a slight, and even an insult, _not_ to be robbed; the sacking of a man's establishment being often taken as a high compliment, especially if his head was broken into the bargain: and to resist the execution would not only have been looked upon as mean and disgraceful in the highest degree, _but it would have debarred the contemptible individual from the privilege of robbing his neighbours_; which was the compensating expedient i have alluded to. all this may seem a waste of words to my pakeha maori readers, to whom these things have become such matters of course as to be no longer remarkable; but i have remembered that there are so many new people in the country who don't understand the beauty of being knocked down and robbed, that i shall say a few more words on the subject. the tract of country inhabited by a single tribe might be, say, from forty to a hundred miles square, and the different villages of the different sections of the tribe would be scattered over this area at different distances from each other. we will by way of illustrating the working of the _muru_ system, take the case of the burnt child. soon after the accident it would be heard of in the neighbouring villages; the family of the mother are probably the inhabitants of one of them, and have, according to the law of _muru_, the first and greatest right to clean out the afflicted father; a child being considered to belong to the family of the mother more than to that of the father--in fact, it is their child, which the father has the rearing of. the child was, moreover, a promising lump of a boy, the makings of a future warrior, and consequently very valuable to the whole tribe in general; but to the mother's family in particular. "a pretty thing to let him get spoiled." then he is a boy of good family, a _rangatira_ by birth, and it would never do to let the thing pass without making a noise about it: that would be an insult to the dignity of the families of both father and mother. decidedly, besides being robbed, the father must be assaulted with a spear. true, he is a famous spearsman, and for his own credit must "hurt" some one or another if attacked. but this is of no consequence: a flesh wound more or less deep is to be counted on; and then think of the plunder! it is against the law of _muru_ that any one should be killed, and first blood ends the duel. then the natural affection of all the child's relations is great. they are all in a great state of excitement, and trying to remember how many canoes, and pigs, and other valuable articles, the father has got: for this must be a clean sweep. a strong party is now mustered, headed probably by the brother of the mother of the child. he is a stout chap, and carries a long tough spear. a messenger is sent to the father, to say that the _taua muru_ is coming, and may be expected tomorrow, or the next day. he asks, "is it a great _taua_?" "yes; it is a very great _taua_ indeed." the victim smiles, he feels highly complimented; he _is_ then a man of consequence. his child is also of great consideration; he is thought worthy of a large force being sent to rob him! now he sets all in motion to prepare a huge feast for the friendly robbers, his relations. he may as well be liberal, for his provisions are sure to go, whether or no. pigs are killed and baked whole, potatoes are piled up in great heaps, all is made ready; he looks out his best spear, and keeps it always ready in his hand. at last the _taua_ appears on a hill half a mile off; then the whole fighting men of the section of the tribe of which he is an important member, collect at his back, all armed with spear and club, to show that they could resist, if they would: a thing, however, not to be thought of under the circumstances. on comes the _taua_. the mother begins to cry in proper form; the tribe shout the call of welcome to the approaching robbers; and then with a grand rush, all armed, and looking as if they intended to exterminate all before them, the _kai muru_ appear on the scene. they dance the war dance, which the villagers answer with another. then the chief's brother-in-law advances, spear in hand, with the most alarming gestures. "stand up!--stand up!--i will kill you this day," is his cry. the defendant is not slow to answer the challenge. a most exciting, and what to a new pakeha would appear a most desperately dangerous, fencing bout with spears, instantly commences. the attack and defence are in the highest degree scientific; the spear shafts keep up a continuous rattle; the thrust, and parry, and stroke with the spear shaft follow each other with almost incredible rapidity, and are too rapid to be followed by an unpractised eye. at last the brother-in-law is slightly touched; blood also drops from our chief's thigh. the fight instantly ceases; leaning on their spears, probably a little badinage takes place between them, and then the brother-in-law roars out, "_murua! murua! murua!_" then the new arrivals commence a regular sack, and the two principals sit down quietly with a few others for a friendly chat, in which the child's name is never mentioned, or the inquiry as to whether he is dead or alive even made. the case i have just described would, however, be one of more than ordinary importance; slighter "accidents and offences" would be atoned for by a milder form of operation. but the general effect was to keep personal property circulating from hand to hand pretty briskly, or indeed to convert it into public property; for no man could say who would be the owner of his canoe, or blanket, in a month's time. indeed, in that space of time, i once saw a nice coat, which a native had got from the captain of a trading schooner, and which was an article much coveted in those days, pass through the hands, and over the backs, of six different owners, and return, considerably the worse for wear, to the original purchaser; and all these transfers had been made by legal process of _muru_. i have been often myself paid the compliment of being robbed for little accidents occurring in my family, and have several times also, from a feeling of politeness, robbed my maori friends; though i can't say i was a great gainer by these transactions. i think the greatest haul i ever made was about half a bag of shot, which i thought a famous joke, seeing that i had sold it the day before to the owner for full value. a month after this i was disturbed early in the morning, by a voice shouting "get up!--get up! i will kill you this day. you have roasted my grandfather. get up!--_stand_ up!" i, of course, guessed that i had committed some heinous though involuntary offence, and the "stand up" hinted the immediate probable consequences; so out i turned, spear in hand, and who should i see, armed with a bayonet on the end of a long pole, but my friend the late owner of the bag of shot. he came at me with pretended fury; made some smart bangs and thrusts, which i parried, and then explained to me that i had "cooked his grandfather;" and that if i did not come down handsome in the way of damages, deeply as he might regret the necessity, his own credit, and the law of _muru_, compelled him either to sack my house, or die in the attempt. i was glad enough to prevent either event, by paying him two whole bags of shot, two blankets, divers fish-hooks, and certain figs of tobacco, which he demanded. i found that i had really and truly committed a most horrid crime. i had on a journey made my fire at the foot of a tree, in the top of which the bones of my friend's grandfather had once been deposited, but from which they had been removed ten years before. the tree caught fire and had burnt down: and i, therefore, by a convenient sort of figure of speech, had "roasted his grandfather," and had to pay the penalty accordingly. it did not require much financial ability on my part, after a few experiences of this nature, to perceive that i had better avail myself of my privileges as a pakeha, and have nothing further to do with the law of _muru_--a determination i have kept to strictly. if ever i have unwittingly injured any of my neighbours, i have always made what i considered just compensation, and resisted the _muru_ altogether: and i will say this for my friends, that when any of them have done an accidental piece of mischief, they have, in most cases without being asked, offered to pay for it. the above slight sketch of the penal law of new zealand i present and dedicate to the law lords of england; as it might, perhaps, afford some hints for a reform in our own. the only remark i shall have to add is, that if a man killed another, "malice prepense aforethought," the act, in nineteen cases out of twenty, would be either a very meritorious one, or of no consequence whatever; in either of which cases the penal code had, of course, nothing to do in the matter. if, however, a man killed another by _accident_, in the majority of cases the consequences would be most serious; and not only the involuntary homicide, but every one connected with him, would be plundered of everything they possessed worth taking. this, however, to an english lawyer, may require some explanation, which is as follows:--if a man thought fit to kill his own slave, it was nobody's affair but his own; the law had nothing to do with it. if he killed a man of another tribe, he had nothing to do but declare it was in revenge or retaliation for some aggression, either recent or traditional, by the other tribe; of which examples were never scarce. in this case, the action became at once highly meritorious, and his whole tribe would support and defend him to the last extremity. if he, however, killed a man by accident, the slain man would be, as a matter of course, in most instances, one of his ordinary companions--_i.e._, one of his own tribe. the accidental discharge of a gun often caused death in this way. then, indeed, the law of _muru_ had full swing, and the wholesale plunder of the criminal and family was the penalty. murder, as the natives understood it: that is to say, the malicious destruction of a man of _the same tribe_, did not happen so frequently as might be expected; and when it did, went in most cases unpunished: the murderer, in general, managed to escape to some other section of the tribe where he had relations; who, as he fled to them for protection, were bound to give it, and always ready to do so; or otherwise he would stand his ground and defy all comers, by means of the strength of his own family or section, who all would defend him and protect him as a mere matter of course: and as the law of _utu_ or _lex talionis_ was the only one which applied in this case, and as, unlike the law of _muru_, nothing was to be got by enforcing it but hard blows, murder in most cases went unpunished. chapter viii. the muru falling into disuse.--why.--examples of the tapu.--the personal tapu.--evading the tapu.--the undertaker's tapu.--how i got tabooed.--frightful difficulties.--how i got out of them.--the war tapu.--maori war customs. the law of _muru_ is now but little used, and only on a small scale. the degenerate men of the present day in general content themselves with asking "payment," and, after some cavilling as to the amount, it is generally given; but if refused, the case is brought before a native magistrate: the pleadings on both sides are often such as would astound our barristers, and the decisions of a nature to throw those famous ones by sancho panza and walter the doubter for ever into the shade. i think the reason that the _muru_ is so much less practised than formerly, is the fact that the natives are now far better supplied with the necessaries and comforts of life than they were many years ago; especially iron tools and utensils, and in consequence the temptation to plunder is proportionately decreased. money would still be a temptation; but it is so easily concealed, and in general they have so little of it, that other means are adopted for its acquisition. when i first saw the natives, the chance of getting an axe or a spade by the summary process of _muru_, or--at a still more remote period--a few wooden implements, or a canoe, was so great a temptation, that the lucky possessor was continually watched by many eager and observant eyes, in hopes to pick a hole in his coat, by which the _muru_ might be legally brought to bear upon him. i say legally, for the natives always tried to have a sufficient excuse: and i absolutely declare, odd as it may seem, that actual, unauthorized, and inexcusable robbery or theft was less frequent than in any country i ever have been in, though the temptation to steal was a thousandfold greater. the natives of the present day are, however, improving in this respect, and, amongst other arts of civilization, are beginning to have very pretty notions of housebreaking; they have even tried highway robbery, though in a bungling way. the fact is they are just now between two tides. the old institutions which, barbarous and rude as they were, were respected and in some degree useful, are wearing out, and have lost all beneficial effect, and at the same time the laws and usages of civilization have not acquired any sufficient force. this state of things is very unfavourable to the _morale_ of young new zealand; but it is likely to change for the better, for it is a maxim of mine that "laws, if not _made_, will _grow_." i must now take some little notice of the other great institution, the _tapu_. the limits of these flying sketches of the good old times will not allow of more than a partial notice of the all-pervading _tapu_. earth, air, fire, water, goods and chattels, growing crops, men, women, and children,--everything, absolutely, was subject to its influence; and a more perplexing puzzle to new pakehas, who were continually from ignorance infringing some of its rules, could not be well imagined. the natives, however, made considerable allowance for this ignorance; as well they might, seeing that they themselves, though from infancy to old age enveloped in a cloud of _tapu_, would sometimes fall into similar scrapes. the original object of the ordinary _tapu_ seems to have been the preservation of property. of this nature in a great degree was the ordinary personal _tapu_. this form of the _tapu_ was permanent, and consisted in a certain sacred character which attached to the person of a chief, and never left him. it was his birthright: a part, in fact, of himself, of which he could not be divested; and it was well understood and recognized at all times, as a matter of course. the fighting men and petty chiefs, and every one, indeed, who could by any means claim the title of _rangatira_--which, in the sense i now use it, means gentleman--were all in some degree more or less possessed of this mysterious quality. it extended or was communicated to all their movable property; especially to their clothes, weapons, ornaments, and tools, and to everything, in fact, which they touched. this prevented their chattels from being stolen or mislaid, or spoiled by children, or used or handled in any way by others. and as in the old times, as i have before stated, every kind of property of this kind was precious, in consequence of the great labour and time necessarily, for want of iron tools, expended in the manufacture, this form of the _tapu_ was of great real service. an infringement of it subjected the offender to various dreadful imaginary punishments; of which deadly sickness was one, as well as to the operation of the law of _muru_ already mentioned. if the transgression was involuntary, the chief, or a priest, or _tohunga_, could, by a certain mystical ceremony, prevent or remit the doleful and mysterious part of the punishment, if he chose; but the civil action, or the robbery by law of _muru_, would most likely have to take its course, though possibly in a mitigated form, according to the circumstances. i have stated that the worst part of the punishment of an offence against this form of the _tapu_ was imaginary; but in truth, though imaginary, it was not the less a severe punishment. "conscience makes cowards of us all," and there was scarcely a man in a thousand, _if_ one, who had sufficient resolution to dare the shadowy terrors of the _tapu_. i actually have seen an instance where the offender, though an involuntary one, was killed stone dead in six hours, by what i considered the effects of his own terrified imagination; but what all the natives at the time believed to be the work of the terrible avenger of the _tapu_. the case i may as well describe, as it was a strong one, and shows how, when falsehoods are once believed, they will meet with apparent proof from accidental circumstances. a chief of very high rank, standing, and _mana_, was on a war expedition; with him were about five hundred men. his own personal _tapu_ was increased twofold, as was that of all the warriors who were with him, by the _war tapu_. the _taua_ being on a very dangerous expedition, they were, over and above the ordinary personal _tapu_, made sacred in the highest degree, and were obliged to observe strictly several mysterious and sacred customs; some of which i may have to explain by-and-by. they were, in fact, as irreverent pakehas used to say, "tabooed an inch thick;" and as for the head chief, he was perfectly unapproachable. the expedition halted to dine. the portion of food set apart for the chief, in a neat _paro_ or shallow basket of green flax leaves, was, of course, enough for two or three men, and consequently the greater part remained unconsumed. the party, having dined, moved on; and soon after a party of slaves and others, who had been some mile or two in the rear, came up, carrying ammunition and baggage. one of the slaves, a stout hungry fellow, seeing the chief's unfinished dinner, ate it up before asking any questions. he had hardly finished, when he was informed by a horror-stricken individual--another slave who had remained behind when the _taua_ had moved on--of the fatal act he had committed. i knew the unfortunate delinquent well: he was remarkable for courage, and had signalized himself in the wars of the tribe. (the able-bodied slaves are always expected to fight in the quarrels of their masters; to do which they are nothing loth.) no sooner did he hear the fatal news than he was seized with the most extraordinary convulsions and cramps in the stomach, which never ceased till he died, about sundown the same day. he was a strong man, in the prime of life; and if any pakeha free-thinker should have said he was not killed by the _tapu_ of the chief, which had been communicated to the food by contact, he would have been listened to with feelings of contempt for his ignorance and inability to understand plain and direct evidence. it will be seen at once that this form of the _tapu_ was a great preserver of property. the most valuable articles might, in ordinary circumstances, be left to its protection, in the absence of the owners, for any length of time. it also prevented borrowing and lending in a very great degree; and though much laughed at and grumbled at by unthinking pakehas--who would be always trying to get the natives to give it up, without offering them anything equally effective in its place, or indeed knowing its real object or uses--it held its ground in full force for many years; and, in a certain but not so very observable a form, it exists still. this form of the _tapu_, though latent in young folks of _rangatira_ rank, was not supposed to develope itself fully till they had arrived at mature age, and set up house on their own account. the lads and boys "knocked about" amongst the slaves and lower orders, carried fuel or provisions on their backs, and did all those duties which this personal _tapu_ prevented the elders from doing; and which restraint was sometimes very troublesome and inconvenient. a man of any standing could not carry provisions of any kind on his back; or if he did they were rendered _tapu_, and in consequence useless to any one but himself. if he went into the shed used as a kitchen (a thing, however, he would never think of doing except on some great emergency), all the pots, ovens, food, &c., would be at once rendered useless: none of the cooks or inferior people could make use of them, or partake of anything which had been cooked in them. he might certainly light a little fire in his own house; not for cooking, as that never by any chance could be done in his house, but for warmth: but that, or any other fire, if he should have blown upon it with his breath in lighting it, became at once _tapu_, and could be used for no common or culinary purpose. even to light a pipe at it would subject any inferior person (and in many instances an equal) to a terrible attack of the _tapu morbus_; besides being a slight or affront to the dignity of the person himself. i have seen two or three young men when on a journey fairly wearing themselves out on a wet day and with bad apparatus, trying to make fire to cook with, by rubbing two sticks together; when at the same time there was a roaring fire close at hand at which several _rangatira_ and myself were warming ourselves: but it was _tapu_, sacred fire--one of the _rangatira_ had made it from his own tinder box, and blown upon it in lighting it, and as there was not another tinder box amongst us, fast we must, though hungry as sharks, till common culinary fire could be obtained. a native whose personal _tapu_ was perhaps of the strongest, might, when at the house of a pakeha, ask for a drink of water; and the pakeha, being green, would hand him some water in a glass, or, in those days, more probably in a tea-cup; the native would drink the water, and then gravely and quietly break the cup to pieces, or otherwise he would appropriate it by causing it to vanish under his mat. the new pakeha would immediately fly into a passion, to the great astonishment of the native; who considered as a matter of course, that the cup or glass was, in the estimation of the pakeha, a very worthless article, or he would not have given it into his hand and allowed him to put it to his head, the part most strongly infected by the _tapu_. both parties would be surprised and displeased; the native wondering what could have put the pakeha into such a taking, and the pakeha "wondering at the rascal's impudence, and what he meant by it?" the proper line of conduct for the pakeha in the above case made and provided, supposing him to be of a hospitable and obliging disposition, would be to lay hold of some vessel containing about two gallons of water (to allow for waste), and hold it up before the native's face; the native would then stoop down and put his hand, bent into the shape of a funnel or conductor for the water, to his mouth; then, from the height of a foot or so, the pakeha would send a cataract of water into the said funnel, and continue the shower till the native gave a slight upward nod of the head, which meant "enough:" by which time, from the awkwardness of the pakeha, the two gallons of water would be about expended, half, at least, on the top of the native's head; but he would not, however, appear to notice the circumstance, and would appreciate the civility of his pakeha friend. i have often drunk in this way in the old times: asking for a drink of water at a native village, a native would gravely approach with a calabash, and hold it up before me ready to pour forth its contents; when i, of course, cocked my hand and lip in the most knowing manner. if i had laid hold of the calabash and drunk in the ordinary way, as practised by pakehas, i should have at once fallen in the estimation of all by-standers, and been set down as a _tutua_, a nobody, who had no _tapu_ or _mana_ about him--a mere scrub of a pakeha, whom any one might eat or drink after without the slightest danger of being poisoned. these things are all changed now; and though i have often, in the good old times, been tabooed in the most diabolical and dignified manner, there are only a few old men left now who, by little unmistakable signs, i perceive consider it would be very uncivil to act in any way which would suppose my _tapu_ to have disappeared before the influx of new-fangled pakeha notions. indeed i feel myself sometimes as if i had somehow insensibly become partially civilized. what it will all end in, i don't know. this same personal _tapu_ would even hold its own in some cases against the _muru_; though not in a sufficiently general manner to seriously affect the operation of that well-enforced law. its inconveniences were, on the other hand, many, and the expedients resorted to to avoid them were sometimes comical enough. i was once going on an excursion with a number of natives; we had two canoes, and one of them started a little before the other. i was with the canoe which had been left behind, and just as we were setting off it was discovered that amongst twenty stout fellows my companions there was no one who had a back!--as they expressed it: consequently there was no one to carry our provisions into the canoe. all the lads, women, and slaves had gone off in the other canoe,--all those who had backs,--and so there we were left, a very disconsolate lot of _rangatira_, who could not carry their own provisions into the canoe, and who at the same time could not go without them. the provisions consisted of several heavy baskets of potatoes, some dried sharks, and a large pig baked whole. what was to be done? we were all brought to a full stop, though in a great hurry to go on. we were beginning to think we must give up the expedition altogether, and were very much disappointed accordingly, when a clever fellow--who, had he been bred a lawyer, would have made nothing of driving a mail coach through an act of parliament--set us all to rights in a moment. "i'll tell you what we must do," said he, "we will not carry (_pikau_) the provisions, we will _hiki_ them." (_hiki_ is the word in maori which describes the act of carrying an infant in the arms.) this was a great discovery! a huge handsome fellow seized on the baked pig and dandled it, or _hiki'd_ it, in his arms like an infant; another laid hold of a shark, others took baskets of potatoes, and carrying them in this way deposited them in the canoe. and so, having thus evaded the law, we started on our expedition. i remember another amusing instance in which the inconvenience arising from the _tapu_ was evaded. i must, however, notice that these instances were only evasions of the ordinary kind of _tapu_,--what i have called the personal _tapu_; not the more dangerous and dreadful kind connected with the mystic doings of the _tohunga_, or that other form of _tapu_ connected with the handling of the dead. indeed, my companions in the instance i have mentioned, though all _rangatira_, were young men on whom the personal _tapu_ had not arrived at the fullest perfection: it seemed, indeed, sometimes to sit very lightly on them, and i doubt very much if the play upon the words _hiki_ and _pikau_ would have reconciled any of the elders of the tribe to carrying a roasted pig in their arms; or, if they did do so, i feel quite certain that no amount of argument would have persuaded the younger men to eat it: as for slaves or women, to _look_ at it would almost be dangerous to them. the other instance of dodging the law was as follows. i was the first pakeha who had ever arrived at a certain populous inland village. the whole of the inhabitants were in a great state of commotion and curiosity, for many of them had never seen a pakeha before. as i advanced, the whole juvenile population ran before me at a safe distance of about a hundred yards, eyeing me, as i perceived, with great terror and distrust. at last i suddenly made a charge at them, rolling my eyes and showing my teeth; and to see the small savages tumbling over one another and running for their lives was something curious: and though my "demonstration" did not continue more than twenty yards, i am sure some of the little villains ran a mile before looking behind to see whether the ferocious monster called a pakeha was gaining on them. they did run! i arrived at the centre of the village and was conducted to a large house or shed, which had been constructed as a place of reception for visitors, and as a general lounging place for all the inhabitants. it was a _whare noa_, a house to which, from its general and temporary uses, the _tapu_ was not supposed to attach: i mean, of course, the ordinary personal _tapu_ or _tapu rangatira_. any person, however, _infected_ with any of the more serious or extraordinary forms of the _tapu_ entering it, would at once render it uninhabitable. i took my seat. the house was full, and nearly the whole of the rest of the population were blocking up the open front of the large shed; all striving to see the pakeha, and passing to the rear from man to man every word he happened to speak. i could hear them say to the people behind, "the pakeha has stood up!" "now he has sat down again!" "he has said, how do you all do?" "he has said, this is a nice place of yours!" &c. &c. now there happened to be at a distance, an old gentleman engaged in clearing the weeds from a _kumera_ or sweet potato field, and as the kumera in the old times was the crop on which the natives depended chiefly for support, like all valuable things it was _tapu_, and the parties who entered the field to remove the weeds were _tapu pro tem._ also. one of the effects of this temporary extra _tapu_ was that the parties could not enter any regular dwelling-house, or, indeed, any house used by others. the breach of this rule would not be dangerous in a personal sense, but the effect would be that the crop of sweet potatoes would fail. the industrious individual i have alluded to, hearing the cry of "a pakeha! a pakeha!" from many voices, and having never had an opportunity to examine that variety of the species, or _genus homo_, flung down his wooden _kaheru_ or weed exterminator, and rushed towards the town house before mentioned. what could he do? the _tapu_ forbade his entrance, and the front was so completely blocked up by his admiring neighbours that he could not get sight of the wonderful guest. in these desperate circumstances a bright thought struck him: he would, by a bold and ingenious device, give the _tapu_ the slip. he ran to the back of the house, made with some difficulty a hole in the padded _raupo_ wall, and squeezed his head through it. the elastic wall of _raupo_ closed again around his neck; and the _tapu_ was fairly beaten! no one could say he was _in_ the house. he was certainly more out than in; and there, seemingly hanging from, or stuck against the wall, remained for hours, with open mouth and wondering eyes, this brazen head; till at last, the shades of night obstructing its vision, a rustling noise in the wall of flags and reeds announced the departure of my ingenious admirer. some of the forms of the _tapu_, however, were not to be trifled with, and were of a most virulent kind. of this kind was the _tapu_ of those who handled the dead, or conveyed the body to its last resting-place. this _tapu_ was, in fact, the uncleanness of the old jewish law; it lasted about the same time, and was removed in almost the same way. it was a most serious affair. the person who came under this form of the _tapu_ was cut off from all contact, and almost all communication, with the human race. he could not enter any house, or come in contact with any person or thing, without utterly defiling them. he could not even touch food with his hands; which had become so frightfully _tapu_, or unclean, as to be quite useless. food would be placed for him on the ground, and he would then sit or kneel down, and, with his hands carefully held behind his back, would gnaw it in the best way he could. in some cases he would be fed by another person, who, with out-stretched arm, would manage to do it without touching the _tapu'd_ individual; but this feeder was subjected to many and severe restrictions, not much less onerous than those to which the other was subject. in almost every populous native village there was a person who--probably for the sake of immunity from labour, or from being good for nothing else--took up the undertaking business as a regular profession, and, in consequence, was never for a moment, for years together, clear of the horrid inconveniences of the _tapu_, as well as its dangers. one of these people might be easily recognized, after a little experience, even by a pakeha. old, withered, haggard, clothed in the most miserable rags, and daubed all over from head to foot with red paint (the native funereal colour), made of stinking shark oil and red ochre mixed, keeping always at a distance, silent and solitary, often half insane, he might be seen sitting motionless all day at forty or fifty yards distance from the common path or thoroughfare of the village. there, under the "lee" of a bush, or tuft of flax, he gazed silently, and with "lacklustre eye," on the busy doings of the maori world, of which he was hardly to be called a member. twice a day some food would be thrown on the ground before him, to gnaw as best he might, without the use of hands; and at night, tightening his greasy rags around him, he would crawl into some miserable lair of leaves and rubbish; there, cold, half starved, miserable, and dirty, to pass, in fitful ghost-haunted slumbers, a wretched night, as prelude to another wretched day. it requires, they say, all sorts of people to make a world; and i have often thought, in observing one of these miserable objects, that his, or hers, was the very lowest ebb to which a human being's prospects in life could be brought by adverse fate. when i met, or rather saw, a female practitioner, i fairly ran for it; and, believing my readers to be equally tender-hearted, i shall not venture on any more description, but merely say that the male undertaker, such as i have described him, would be an apollo, in comparison with one of these hags. what will my kind reader say when i tell him that i myself once got _tapu'd_ with this same horrible, most horrible, style of _tapu_? i hold it to be a fact that there is not one man in new zealand but myself who has a clear understanding of what the word "excommunication" means: indeed i did not understand what it meant till i got _tapu'd_. i was returning with about sixty men from a journey along the west coast, and was a short distance in advance of the party, when i came to where the side of a hill had fallen down on to the beach and exposed a number of human bones. there was a large skull rolling about in the water, and i took up this skull without consideration, carried it to the side of the hill, scraped a hole, and covered it up. just as i had finished burying it up came my friends, and i saw at once, by the astonishment and dismay depicted on their countenances, that i had committed some most unfortunate act. they soon let me know that the hill had been a burial-place of their tribe, and jumped at once to the conclusion that the skull was the skull of one of their most famous chiefs; whose name they told me. they informed me also that i was no longer fit company for human beings, and begged me to fall to the rear and keep my distance. they told me all this from a very respectful distance, and if i made a step towards them, they all ran as if i had been infected by the plague. this was an awkward state of things, but as it could not be helped, i voted myself _tapu_, and kept clear of my friends till night. at night when they camped, i was obliged to take my solitary abode at a distance under shelter of a rock. when the evening meal was cooked, they brought me a fair allowance, and set it down at a respectful distance from where i sat; fully expecting, i suppose, that i should bob at it as maori _kai tango atua_, or undertakers, are wont to do. i had, however, no idea of any such proceeding; and, pulling out my knife, proceeded to operate in the usual manner. i was checked by an exclamation of horror and surprise from the whole band--"oh, what are you about? you are not going to touch food with your _hands_!" "indeed, but i am," said i, and stretched out my hand. here another scream--"you must not do that: it's the worst of all things. one of us will feed you: it's wrong, wrong, very wrong!" "oh, bother," said i, and fell too at once. i declare, positively, i had no sooner done so than i felt sorry. the expression of horror, contempt, and pity, observable in their faces, convinced me that i had not only offended and hurt their feelings, but that i had lowered myself greatly in their estimation. certainly i was a pakeha, and pakehas will do most unaccountable things, and may be, in ordinary cases, excused; but this, i saw at once, was an act which, to my friends, seemed the _ne plus ultra_ of abomination. i now can well understand that, while sitting there eating my potatoes, i must have appeared to them a ghoul, a vampire; worse than even one of their own dreadful _atua_, who, at the command of a witch, or to avenge some breach of the _tapu_, enters into a man's body and slowly eats away his vitals. i can see it now, and understand what a frightful object i must have appeared. my friends broke up their camp at once, not feeling sure, after what i had done, but i might walk in amongst them, in the night, when they were asleep, and bedevil them all. they marched all night, and in the morning came to my house, where they spread consternation and dismay amongst my household by telling them in what a condition i was coming home. the whole of my establishment at this time being natives, ran off at once; and when i got home next evening, hungry and vexed, there was not a soul to be seen. the house and kitchen were shut up, fires out, and, as i fancied, everything looked dreary and uncomfortable. if only a dog had come and wagged his tail in welcome, it would have been something; but even my dog was gone. certainly there was an old tom cat; but i hate cats: there is no sincerity in them, and so i had kicked this old tom, on principle, whenever he came in my way, and now, when he saw me, he ran for his life into the bush. the instinct of a hungry man sent me into the kitchen; there was nothing eatable to be seen but a raw leg of pork, and the fire was out. i now began to suspect that this attempt of mine to look down the _tapu_ would fail, and that i should remain excommunicated for some frightfully indefinite period. i began to think of robinson crusoe, and to wonder if i could hold out as well as he did. then i looked hard at the leg of pork. the idea that i must cook it for myself, brought home to me the fact more forcibly than anything else how i had "fallen from my high estate"--cooking being the very last thing a _rangatira_ can turn his hand to. but why should i have anything more to do with cooking?--was i not cast off and repudiated by the human race? (a horrible misanthropy was fast taking hold of me.) why should i not tear my leg of pork raw, like a wolf? "i will run a-muck!"--suddenly said i. "i wonder how many i can kill before they 'bag' me? but--i must have some supper." i soon made a fire, and, after a little rummaging, found the _matériel_ for a good meal. my cooking was not so bad either, i thought; but certainly hunger is not hard to please in this respect, and i had eaten nothing since the diabolical meal of the preceding evening, and had travelled more than twenty miles. i washed my hands six or seven times, scrubbing away and muttering with an intonation that would have been a fortune to a tragic actor, "out, damned spot;" and so, after having washed and dried my hands, looked at them, returned, and washed again, again washed, and so on, several times, i sat down and demolished two days' allowance. after which, reclining before the fire with my pipe, and a blanket over my shoulders, a more kindly feeling towards my fellow-men stole gradually upon me. "i wonder," said i to myself, "how long this devilish _tapu_ will last! i wonder if there is to be any end at all to it! i won't run a-muck for a week, at all events, till i see what may turn up. confounded plague though to have to cook!" having resolved as above, not to take any one's life for a week, i felt more patient. four days passed, somehow or another, and on the morning of the fifth, to my extreme delight, i saw a small canoe, pulled by one man, landing on the beach before the house. he fastened his canoe and advanced towards the kitchen, which was detached from the house, and, in the late deplorable state of affairs, had become my regular residence. i sat in the doorway, and soon perceived that my visitor was a famous _tohunga_, or priest, and who also had the reputation of being a witch of no ordinary dimensions. he was an old, grave, stolid-looking savage, with one eye; the other had been knocked out long ago in a fight, before he turned parson. on he came, with a slow, measured step, slightly gesticulating with one hand, and holding in the other a very small basket, not more than nine or ten inches long. he came on, mumbling and grumbling a perfectly unintelligible _karakia_ or incantation. i guessed at once he was coming to disenchant me, and prepared my mind to submit to any conditions or ceremonial he should think fit to impose. my old friend came gravely up, and putting his hand into the little basket pulled out a baked _kumera_, saying, "_he kai mau._" i of course accepted the offered food, took a bite, and as i ate he mumbled his incantation over me. i remember i felt a curious sensation at the time, like what i fancied a man must feel who had just sold himself, body and bones, to the devil. for a moment i asked myself the question whether i was not actually being then and there handed over to the powers of darkness. the thought startled me. there was i, an unworthy but believing member of the church of england as by parliament established, "knuckling down" abjectly to the ministration of a ferocious old cannibal, wizard, sorcerer, high priest,--or, as it appeared very probable,--to satan himself. "blacken his remaining eye! knock him over and run the country!" whispered quite plainly in my ear my guardian angel, or else a little impulsive sprite who often made suggestions to me in those days. for a couple of seconds the sorcerer's eye was in desperate danger; but just in those moments the ceremony, or at least this most objectionable part of it, came to an end. the _tohunga_ stood back and said, "have you been in the house?" fortunately i had presence of mind enough to _forget_ that i had, and said, "no." "throw out all those pots and kettles." i saw it was no use to resist, so out they went. "fling out those dishes" was the next command. "the dishes?--they will break." "i am going to break them all." capital fun this. out go the dishes; "and may the ----." i fear i was about to say something bad. "fling out those knives, and those things with sharp points"--(the old villain did not know what to call the forks!)--"and those shells with handles to them"--(spoons!)--"out with everything." the last sweeping order is obeyed, and the kitchen is fairly empty. the worst is over now at last, thank goodness, said i to myself. "strip off all your clothes." "what?--strip naked!--you desperate old thief--mind your eye." human patience could bear no more. out i jumped. i did "strip." off came my jacket. "how would you prefer being killed, old ruffian?--can you do anything in this way?" (here a pugilistic demonstration.) "strip!--he doesn't mean to give me five dozen, does he?" said i, rather bewildered, and looking sharp to see if he had anything like an instrument of flagellation in his possession. "come on!--what are you waiting for?" said i. in those days, when labouring under what dickens calls the "description of temporary insanity which arises from a sense of injury," i always involuntarily fell back upon my mother tongue; which in this case was perhaps fortunate, as my necromantic old friend did not appreciate the full force of my eloquence. he could not, however, mistake my warlike and rebellious attitude, and could see clearly i was going into one of those most unaccountable rages that pakehas were liable to fly into, without any imaginable cause. "boy," said he, gravely and quietly, and without seeming to notice my very noticeable declaration of war and independence, "don't act foolishly; don't go mad. no one will ever come near you while you have those clothes. you will be miserable here by yourself. and what is the use of being angry?--what will _anger_ do for you?" the perfect coolness of my old friend, the complete disregard he paid to my explosion of wrath, as well as his reasoning, began to make me feel a little disconcerted. he evidently had come with the purpose and intention to get me out of a very awkward scrape, and i began also to feel that, looking at the affair from his point of view, i was just possibly not making a very respectable figure: then, if i understood him rightly, there would be no _flogging_. "well," said i, at last, "fate compels: to fate, and not old hurlo-thrumbo there, i yield--so here goes." let me not dwell upon the humiliating concession to the powers of _tapu_. suffice it to say, i disrobed, and received permission to enter my own house in search of other garments. when i came out again, my old friend was sitting down with a stone in his hand, battering the last pot to pieces, and looking as if he was performing a very meritorious action. he carried away all the smashed kitchen utensils and my clothes in baskets, and deposited them in a thicket at a considerable distance from the house. (i stole the knives, forks, and spoons back again some time after, as he had not broken them.) he then bid me good-by; and the same evening all my household came flocking back: but years passed before any one but myself would go into the kitchen, and i had to build another. and for several years also i could observe, by the respectable distance kept by young natives and servants, and the nervous manner with which they avoided my pipe in particular, that they considered i had not been as completely purified from the _tapu tango atua_ as i might have been. i now am aware, that in consideration of my being a pakeha--and also, perhaps, lest, driven to desperation, i should run away entirely, which would have been looked upon as a great misfortune to the tribe--i was let off very easy, and might therefore be supposed to retain some tinge of the dreadful infection. besides these descriptions of _tapu_, there were many other. there was the _war tapu_, which in itself included fifty different "sacred customs," one of which was this. often when the fighting men left the pa or camp, they being themselves made _tapu_--or sacred, as in this particular case the word means--all those who remained behind, old men, women, slaves, and all non-combatants, were obliged strictly to fast while the warriors were fighting; and, indeed, from the time they left the camp till their return, even to smoke a pipe would be a breach of this rule. these war customs, as well as other forms of the _tapu_, are evidently derived from a very ancient religion, and did not take their rise in this country. i shall, probably, some of these days, treat of them at more length, and endeavour to trace them to their source. sacrifices were often made to the war demon, and i know of one instance in which, when a tribe were surrounded by an overwhelming force of their enemies, and had nothing but extermination--immediate and unrelenting--before them, the war chief cut out the heart of his own son as an offering for victory; and then he and his tribe, with the fury of despair and the courage of fanatics, rushed upon the foe, defeated them with terrific slaughter, and the war demon had much praise, and many men were eaten. the warriors, when on a dangerous expedition, also observed strictly the custom to which allusion is made in st samuel, xxi. , . chapter ix. the tapu tohunga.--the maori oracle.--responses of the oracle.--priestcraft. then came the _tapu tohunga_, or priest's _tapu_, a quite different kind or form of _tapu_ from those which i have spoken of. these _tohunga_ presided over all those ceremonies and customs which had something approaching to a religious character. they also pretended to the power--by means of certain familiar spirits--to foretell future events, and even in some cases to control them. the belief in the power of these _tohunga_ to foretell events was very strong, and the incredulous pakeha who laughed at them was thought a person quite incapable of understanding plain evidence. i must allow that some of their predictions were of a most daring nature, and, happening to turn out perfectly successful, there may be some excuse for an ignorant people believing in them. most of these predictions were, however, given--like the oracles of old--in terms which would admit a double meaning and secure the character of the soothsayer, no matter how the event turned out. it is also remarkable that these _tohunga_ did not pretend to divine future events by any knowledge or power existing in themselves; they pretended to be for the time inspired by the familiar spirit, and passive in his hands. this spirit "entered into" them, and, on being questioned, gave a response in a sort of half-whistling half-articulate voice, supposed to be the proper language of spirits; and i have known a _tohunga_ who, having made a false prediction, laid the blame on the "tricksy spirit," who he said had purposely spoken false, for certain good and sufficient spiritual reasons which he then explained. amongst the fading customs and beliefs of the good old times the _tohunga_ still holds his ground, and the oracle is as often consulted (though not so openly) as it was a hundred years ago, and is as firmly believed in; and this by natives who are professed christians: the inquiries are often on subjects of the most vital importance to the welfare of the colony. a certain _tohunga_ has even quite lately, to my certain knowledge, been paid a large sum of money to do a miracle! i saw the money paid, and i saw the miracle. and the miracle was a good enough sort of miracle, as miracles go in these times. the natives know we laugh at their belief in these things, and they would much rather we were angry, for then they would defy us; but as we simply laugh at their credulity, they do all they can to conceal it from us: but nevertheless the chiefs, on all matters of importance, continue to consult the maori oracle. i shall give two instances of predictions which came under my own observation, and which will show how much the same priestcraft has been in all times. a man--a petty chief--had a serious quarrel with his relations, left his tribe, and went to a distant part of the country, saying that he cast them off and would never return. after a time the relations became both uneasy at his absence and sorry for the disagreement. the presence of the head of the family was also of consequence to them. they therefore inquired of the oracle if he would return. at night the _tohunga_ invoked the familiar spirit, he became inspired, and in a sort of hollow whistle came the words of fate:--"he will return; but yet not return." this response was given several times, and then the spirit departed, leaving the priest or _tohunga_ to the guidance of his own unaided wits. no one could understand the meaning of the response: the priest himself said he could make nothing of it. the spirit of course knew his own meaning; but all agreed that, whatever that meaning was, it would turn out true. now the conclusion of this story is rather extraordinary. some time after this, several of the chief's relations went to offer reconciliation and to endeavour to persuade him to return home. six months afterwards they returned, bringing him along with them _a corpse_: they had found him dying, and carried his body home. now all knew the meaning of the words of the oracle, "he will return, but yet not return." another instance, which i witnessed myself, was as follows:--a captain of a large ship had run away with a maori girl--or a maori girl had run away with a ship captain; i should not like to swear which is the proper form of expression--and the relations, as in such cases happens in most countries, thought it incumbent on them to get into a great taking, and make as much noise as possible about the matter. off they set to the _tohunga_. i happened to be at his place at the time, and saw and heard all i am about to recount. the relations of the girl did not merely confine themselves to asking questions, they demanded active assistance. the ship had gone to sea loaded for a long voyage; the fugitives had fairly escaped; and what the relations wanted was that the _atua_, or familiar spirit of the _tohunga_, should bring the ship back into port, so that they might have an opportunity to recover the lost ornament of the family. i heard the whole. the priest hummed and hawed. "he did not know; could not say. we should hear what the 'boy' would say. he would do as he liked. could not compel him;" and so forth. at night all assembled in the house where the priest usually performed. all was expectation. i saw i was _de trop_, in the opinion of our soothsayer: in fact, i had got the name of an infidel (which i have since taken care to get rid of), and the spirit was unwilling to enter where there was an unbeliever. my friend the priest hinted to me politely that a nice bed had been made for me in the next house. i thanked him in the most approved maori fashion, but said i was "very comfortable where i was;" and, suiting the action to the word, rolled my cloak about me, and lay down on the rushes, with which the floor was covered. about midnight i heard the spirit saluting the guests, and them saluting him; and i also noticed they hailed him as "relation," and then gravely preferred the request that he would "drive back the ship which had stolen his cousin." the response, after a short time, came in the hollow mysterious whistling voice,--"the ship's nose i will batter out on the great sea." this answer was repeated several times, and then the spirit departed, and would not be recalled. the rest of the night was spent in conjecturing what could be the meaning of these words. all agreed that there must be more in them than met the ear; but no one could say it was a clear concession of the request made. as for the priest, he said he could not understand it, and that "the spirit was a great rogue"--a _koroke hangareka_. he, however, kept throwing out hints now and then that something more than common was meant, and talked generally in the "we shall see" style. now here comes the end of the affair. about ten days after this in comes the ship. she had been "battered" with a vengeance. she had been met by a terrible gale when a couple of hundred miles off the land, and had sprung a leak in the bow. the bow in maori is called the "nose" (_ihu_). the vessel had been in great danger, and had been actually forced to run for the nearest port; which happened to be the one she had left. now, after such a coincidence as this, i can hardly blame the ignorant natives for believing in the oracle, for i actually caught myself quoting, "can the devil speak truth?" indeed i have in the good old times known several pakehas who "thought there was something in it," and two who formally and believingly consulted the oracle, and paid a high _douceur_ to the priest. i shall give one more instance of the response of the maori oracle. a certain northern tribe, noted for their valour, but not very numerous, sent the whole of their best men on a war expedition to the south. this happened about forty years ago. before the _taua_ started, the oracle was consulted, and the answer to the question, "shall this expedition be successful?" came. "a desolate country!--a desolate country!--a desolate country!" this the eager warriors accepted as a most favourable response: they said the enemy's country would be desolated. it, however, so turned out that they were all exterminated to a man; and the miserable remnant of their tribe, weakened and rendered helpless by their loss, became a prey to their more immediate neighbours, lost their lands, and have ceased from that day to be heard of as an independent tribe. so, in fact, it was the country of the eager inquirers which was laid "desolate." every one praised the oracle, and its character was held higher than ever. chapter x. the priest evokes a spirit.--the consequences.--a maori tragedy.--the "tohunga" again. these priests or _tohunga_ would, and do to this hour, undertake to call up the spirit of any dead person, if paid for the same. i have seen many of these exhibitions, but one instance will suffice as an example. a young chief, who had been very popular and greatly respected in his tribe, had been killed in battle; and, at the request of several of his nearest friends, the _tohunga_ had promised on a certain night to call up his spirit to speak to them, and answer certain questions they wished to put. the priest was to come to the village of the relations, and the interview was to take place in a large house common to all the population. this young man had been a great friend of mine; and so, the day before the event, i was sent to by his relations, and told that an opportunity offered of conversing with my friend once more. i was not much inclined to bear a part in such outrageous mummery, but curiosity caused me to go. it is necessary to remark that this young chief was a man in advance of his times and people in many respects. he was the first of his tribe who could read and write; and, amongst other unusual things for a native to do, he kept a register of deaths and births, and a journal of any remarkable events which happened in the tribe. now this book was lost: no one could find it; although his friends had searched unceasingly for it, as it contained many matters of interest, and they wished to preserve it for his sake. i also wished to get it, and had often inquired if it had been found, but had always been answered in the negative. the appointed time came, and at night we all met the priest in the large house i have mentioned. fires were lit, which gave an uncertain flickering light, and the priest retired to the darkest corner. all was expectation, and the silence was only broken by the sobbing of the sister, and other female relations of the dead man: they seemed to be, and indeed were, in an agony of excitement, agitation, and grief. this state of things continued for a long time, and i began to feel in a way surprising to myself, as if there was something real in the matter. the heartbreaking sobs of the women, and the grave and solemn silence of the men, convinced me, that to them at least, this was a serious matter: i saw the brother of the dead man now and then silently wiping the tears from his eyes. i wished i had not come, for i felt that any unintentional symptom of incredulity on my part would shock and hurt the feelings of my friends extremely; and yet, whilst feeling thus, i felt myself more and more near to believing in the deception about to be practised: the real grief, and also the general undoubting faith, in all around me, had this effect. we were all seated on the rush-strewn floor; about thirty persons. the door was shut; the fire had burnt down, leaving nothing but glowing charcoal, and the room was oppressively hot. the light was little better than darkness; and the part of the room in which the _tohunga_ sat was now in perfect darkness. suddenly, without the slightest warning, a voice came out of the darkness. "salutation!--salutation to you all!--salutation!--salutation to you, my tribe!--family, i salute you!--friends, i salute you!--friend, my pakeha friend, i salute you." the high-handed daring imposture was successful: our feelings were taken by storm. a cry expressive of affection and despair, such as was not good to hear, came from the sister of the dead chief, a fine, stately and really handsome woman of about five-and-twenty. she was rushing, with both arms extended, into the dark, in the direction from whence the voice came; but was instantly seized round the waist and restrained by her brother by main force, till, moaning and fainting, she lay still on the ground. at the same instant another female voice was heard from a young girl, who was held by the wrists by two young men, her brothers. "is it you?--is it you?--_truly_ is it you?--_aue! aue!_ they hold me, they restrain me: wonder not that i have not followed you; they restrain me, they watch me; but i go to you. the sun shall not rise, the sun shall not rise, _aue! aue!_" here she fell insensible on the rush floor, and with the sister was carried out. the remaining women were all weeping and exclaiming, but were silenced by the men, who were themselves nearly as much excited, though not so clamorous. i, however, did notice two old men, who sat close to me, were not in the slightest degree moved in any way, though they did not seem at all incredulous, but quite the contrary. the spirit spoke again. "speak to me, the tribe!--speak to me, the family!--speak to me, the pakeha!" the "pakeha," however, was not at the moment inclined for conversation. the deep distress of the two women, the evident belief of all around him of the presence of the spirit, the "darkness visible," and the novelty of the scene, gave rise to a state of feeling not favourable to the conversational powers. besides, i felt reluctant to give too much apparent credence to an imposture, which at the very same time, by some strange impulse, i felt half ready to give way to. at last the brother spoke, and asked, "how is it with you?--is it well with you in _that_ country?" the answer came--(the voice all through, it is to be remembered, was not the voice of the _tohunga_, but a strange melancholy sound, like the sound of the wind blowing into a hollow vessel,)--"it is well with me: my place is a good place." the brother spoke again--"have you seen ----, and ----, and ----?" (i forget the names mentioned.) "yes, they are all with me." a woman's voice now from another part of the room anxiously cried out--"have you seen my sister?" "yes, i have seen her." "tell her my love is great towards her and never will cease." "yes, i will tell." here the woman burst into tears, and the pakeha felt a strange swelling of the chest, which he could in no way account for. the spirit spoke again. "give my large tame pig to the priest," (the pakeha was disenchanted at once,) "and my double-gun." here the brother interrupted--"your gun is a _manatunga_; i shall keep it." he is also disenchanted, thought i, but i was mistaken; he believed, but wished to keep the gun his brother had carried so long. an idea now struck me that i could expose the imposture without showing palpable disbelief. "we cannot find your book," said i, "where have you concealed it?" the answer instantly came, "i concealed it between the _tahuhu_ of my house and the thatch, straight over you as you go in at the door." here the brother rushed out; all was silence till his return. in five minutes he came back _with the book in his hand_! i was beaten, but made another effort.--"what have you written in that book?" said i. "a great many things." "tell me some of them." "which of them?" "any of them." "you are seeking for some information, what do you want to know? i will tell you." then suddenly--"farewell, o tribe! farewell, my family, i go!" here a general and impressive cry of "farewell" arose from every one in the house. "farewell," again cried the spirit, _from deep beneath the ground_! "farewell," again from _high in air_! "farewell," again came moaning through the distant darkness of the night. "farewell!" i was for a moment stunned. the deception was perfect. there was a dead silence--at last. "a ventriloquist," said i--"or--or--_perhaps_ the devil." i was fagged and confused. it was past mid-night; the company broke up, and i went to a house where a bed had been prepared for me. i wished to be quiet and alone; but it was fated there should be little quiet that night. i was just falling asleep, after having thought for some time on the extraordinary scenes i had witnessed, when i heard the report of a musket at some little distance, followed by the shouting of men and the screams of women. out i rushed. i had a presentiment of some horrible catastrophe. men were running by, hastily armed. i could get no information, so went with the stream. there was a bright flame beginning to spring up at a short distance, and every one appeared going in that direction: i was soon there. a house had been set on fire to make a light. before another house, close at hand, a dense circle of human beings was formed. i pushed my way through, and then saw, by the bright light of the flaming house, a scene which is still fresh before me: there, in the verandah of the house, was an old grey-bearded man; he knelt upon one knee, and on the other he supported the dead body of the young girl who had said she would follow the spirit to spirit land. the delicate-looking body from the waist upwards was bare and bloody; the old man's right arm was under the neck, the lower part of his long grey beard was dabbled with blood, his left hand was twisting his matted hair; he did not weep, he _howled_, and the sound was that of a heathen despair, knowing no hope. the young girl had secretly procured a loaded musket, tied to the trigger a loop for her foot, placed the muzzle to her tender breast, and blown herself to shatters. and the old man was her father, and a _tohunga_. a calm low voice now spoke close beside me, "she has followed her _rangatira_," it said. i looked round, and saw the famous _tohunga_ of the night. now, young ladies, i have promised not to frighten you with raw-head-and-bloody-bones stories; a sort of thing i detest, but which has been too much the fashion with folks who write of matters maori. i have vowed not to draw a drop of blood except in a characteristic manner. but this story is tragedy, or i don't know what tragedy is; and the more tragic because, in every particular, literally true: and so, if you cannot find some pity for the poor maori girl who "followed her lord to spirit land," i shall make it my business not to fall in love with any of you any more for i won't say how long. chapter xi. the local tapu.--the taniwha.--the battle on motiti.--the death of tiki whenua.--reflections.--brutus, marcus antonius, and tiki whenua.--suicide. a story-teller, like a poet or a pugilist, must be _born_, and not _made_, and i begin to fancy i have not been born under a story-telling planet, for by no effort that i can make can i hold on to the thread of my story, and i am conscious the whole affair is fast becoming one great parenthesis. if i could only get clear of this _tapu_ i would "try back." i believe i ought to be just now completing the purchase of my estate. i am sure i have been keeping house a long time before it is built, which is i believe clear against the rules; so i must get rid of this talk about the _tapu_ the best way i can, after which i will start fair and try not to get before my story. besides these different forms of the _tapu_ which i have mentioned, there were endless others; but the temporary local _tapus_ were the most tormenting to a pakeha: as well they might, seeing that even a native could not steer clear of them always. a place not _tapu_ yesterday might be most horribly _tapu_ to-day, and the consequences of trespassing thereon proportionately troublesome. thus, sailing along a coast or a river bank, the most inviting landing-place would be almost to a certainty the freehold property of the taniwha, a terrific sea monster, who would to a certainty, if his landed property was trespassed on, upset the canoe of the trespassers and devour them all the very next time they put to sea. the place was _tapu_, and let the weather be as bad as it might, it was better to keep to sea at all risks than to land there. even pakeha, though in some cases invulnerable, could not escape the fangs of the terrible taniwha. "was not little jackey-_poto_, the sailor, drowned by the taniwha? he _would_ go on shore, in spite of every warning, to get some water to mix with his _waipiro_; and was not his canoe found next day floating about with his paddle and two empty case-bottles in it?--a sure sign that the taniwha had lifted him out bodily. and was not the body of the said jackey found some days after with the taniwha's mark on it,--one eye taken out?" these taniwha would, however, sometimes attach themselves to a chief or warrior, and in the shape of a huge sea monster, a bird, or a fish, gambol round his canoe, and by their motions give presage of good or evil fortune. when the ngati kuri sailed on their last and fated expedition to the south, a huge taniwha attached to the famous warrior, tiki whenua, accompanied the expedition, playing about continually amongst the canoes; often coming close to the canoe of tiki whenua, so that the warrior could reach to pat him approvingly with his paddle, at which he seemed much pleased; and when they came in sight of the island of tuhua, this taniwha chief called up the legions of the deep! the sea was blackened by an army of monsters, who, with uncouth and awful floundering and wallowing, performed before the chief and his companions a hideous _tu ngarahu_, and then disappeared. the ngati kuri, elated, and accepting this as a presage of victory, landed on tuhua, stormed the pa, and massacred its defenders. but they had mistaken the meaning of the monster review of the taniwha. it was a leave-taking of his favourite warrior; for the ngati kuri were fated to die to a man on the next land they trod. a hundred and fifty men were they--the pick and prime of their tribe. all _rangatira_, all warriors of name, few in number, but desperately resolute, they thought it little to defeat the thousands of the south, and take the women and children as a prey! having feasted and rejoiced at tuhua, they sail for motiti. this world was too small for them. they were impatient for battle. they thought to make the name of kuri strike against the skies; but in the morning the sea is covered with war canoes. the thousands of the south are upon them! ngati awa, with many an allied band, mad for revenge, come on. fight now, o ngati kuri!--not for _victory_, no, nor for _life_. think only now of _utu_!--for your time is come. that which you have dealt to many, you shall now receive. fight!--fight! your tribe shall be exterminated, but you must leave a name! now came the tug of war on "bare motiti." from early morning till the sun had well declined, that ruthless battle raged. twice their own number had the ngati kuri slain; and then tiki whenua, still living, saw around him his dead and dying tribe. a handful of bleeding warriors still resisted--a last and momentary struggle. he thought of the _utu_; it was great. he thought of the ruined remnant of the tribe at home, and then he remembered--horrid thought--that ere next day's setting sun, he and all the warriors of his tribe would be baked and eaten. (tiki, my friend, thou art in trouble.) a cannon was close at hand--a nine-pound carronade. they had brought it in the canoes. hurriedly he filled it half full of powder, seized a long firebrand, placed his breast to the cannon's mouth, and fired it with his own hand. tiki whenua, good-night! now i wonder if brutus had had such a thing as a nine-pounder about him at philippi, whether he would have thought of using it in this way. i really don't think he would. i have never looked upon brutus as anything of an original genius; but tiki whenua most certainly was. i don't think there is another instance of a man blowing himself from a gun. of course there are many examples of people blowing others from cannon; but that is quite a different thing; any blockhead can do that. but the _exit_ of tiki whenua has a smack of originality about it which i like, and so i have mentioned it here. but all this is digression on digression: however, i suppose the reader is getting used to it, and i cannot help it. besides, i wanted to show them how poor tiki "took arms against a sea of troubles," and for the want of a "bare bodkin" made shift with a carronade. i shall never cease to lament those nice lads who met with that little accident (poor fellows!) on motiti. a fine, strapping, stalwart set of fellows, who believed in force. we don't see many such men now-a-days. the present generation of maori are a stunted, tobacco-smoking, grog-drinking, psalm-singing, special-pleading, shilling-hunting set of wretches: not above one in a dozen of them would know how to cut up a man _secundum artem_. 'pshaw! i am ashamed of them. i am getting tired of this _tapu_, so will give only one or two more instances of the local temporary _tapu_. in the autumn, when the great crop of _kumera_ was gathered, all the paths leading to the village and cultivated lands were made _tapu_, and any one coming along them would have notice of this by finding a rope stretched across the road about breast-high; when he saw this, his business must be very urgent indeed or he would go back: indeed, it would have been taken as a very serious affront, even in a near relation, supposing his ordinary residence was not in the village, to disregard the hint given by the rope,--that for the present there was "no thoroughfare." now, the reason of this blockade of the roads was this. the report of an unusually fine crop of _kumera_ had often cost its cultivators and the whole tribe their lives. the news would spread about that ngati so-and-so, living at so-and-so, had housed so many thousands of baskets of _kumera_. exaggeration would multiply the truth by ten, the fertile land would be coveted, and very probably its owners, or rather its _holders_, would have to fight both for it and for their lives before the year was out. for this reason strangers were not welcome at the maori harvest home. the _kumera_ were dug hurriedly by the whole strength of the working hands, thrown in scattered heaps, and concealed from the casual observation of strangers by being covered over with the leaves of the plants: when all were dug, then all hands set to work, at night, to fill the baskets and carry off the crop to the storehouse or _rua_; and every effort was made to get all stored and out of sight before daylight, lest any one should be able to form any idea of the extent of the crop. when the digging of one field was completed another would be done in the same manner, and so on till the whole crop was housed in this stealthy manner. i have been at several of these midnight labours, and have admired the immense amount of work one family would do in a single night; working as it were for life and death. in consequence of this mode of proceeding, even the families inhabiting the same village did not know what sort of a crop their neighbours had, and if a question was asked (to do which was thought impertinent and very improper), the invariable answer was "nothing at all; barely got back the seed: hardly that; we shall be starved; we shall have to eat fern root this year," &c. the last time i observed this custom was about twenty-seven years ago, and even then it was nearly discontinued and no longer general. talking of bygone habits and customs of the natives, i remember i have mentioned two cases of suicide. i shall, therefore, now take occasion to state that no more marked alteration in the habits of the natives has taken place than in the great decrease of cases of suicide. in the first years of my residence in the country, it was of almost daily occurrence. when a man died, it was almost a matter of course that his wife, or wives, hung themselves. when the wife died, the man very commonly shot himself. i have known young men, often on the most trifling affront or vexation, shoot themselves; and i was acquainted with a man who, having been for two days plagued with the toothache, cut his throat with a very blunt razor, without a handle: which certainly was a radical cure. i do not believe that one case of suicide occurs now, for twenty when i first came into the country. indeed, the last case i have heard of in a populous district, occurred several years ago. it was rather a remarkable one. a native owed another a few shillings; the creditor kept continually asking for it; but the debtor, somehow or other, never could raise the cash. at last being out of patience, and not knowing anything of the insolvent court, he loaded his gun, went to the creditor's house, and called him out. out came the creditor and his wife. the debtor then placed the gun to his own breast, and saying, "here is your payment," pulled the trigger with his foot, and fell dead before them. i think the reason suicide has become so comparatively unfrequent is, that the minds of the natives are now filled and agitated by a flood of new ideas, new wants and ambitions, which they knew not formerly, and which prevents them, from one single loss or disappointment, feeling as if there was nothing more to live for. chapter xii. the tapa.--instances of.--the storming of mokoia.--pomare.--hongi ika.--tareha.--honour amongst thieves. there was a kind of variation on the _tapu_, called _tapa_, of this nature. for instance, if a chief said, "that axe is my head," the axe became his to all intents and purposes; except, indeed, the owner of the axe was able to break his "head," in which case, i have reason to believe, the _tapa_ would fall to the ground. it was, however, in a certain degree necessary to have some legal reason, or excuse, for making the _tapa_; but to give some idea of what constituted the circumstances under which a man could fairly _tapa_ anything, i must needs quote a case in point. when the ngapuhi attacked the tribe of ngati wakawe, at rotorua, the ngati wakawe retired to the island of mokoia in the lake of rotorua, which they fortified; thinking that, as the ngapuhi canoes could not come nearer than kaituna on the east coast, about thirty miles distant, that they in their island position would be safe. but in this they were fatally deceived, for the ngapuhi dragged a whole fleet of war canoes over land. when, however, the advanced division of the ngapuhi arrived at rotorua, and encamped on the shore of the lake, the ngati wakawe were not aware that the canoes of the enemy were coming, so every morning they manned their large canoes, and leaving the island fort, would come dashing along the shore deriding the ngapuhi, and crying, "_ma wai koe e kawe mai ki rangitiki?_"--"who shall bring you, or how shall you arrive, at rangitiki?" rangitiki was the name of one of their hill forts. the canoes were fine large ornamented _totara_ canoes, very valuable, capable of carrying from fifty to seventy men each, and much coveted by the ngapuhi. the ngapuhi of course considered all these canoes as their own already; but the different chiefs and leaders, anxious to secure one or more of these fine canoes for themselves and people, and not knowing who might be the first to lay hands on them in the confusion of the storming of mokoia, which would take place when their own canoes arrived, each _tapa'd_ one or more for himself, or--as the native expression is--_to_ himself. up jumped pomare, and standing on the lake shore in front of the encampment of the division of which he was leader, he shouts--pointing at the same time to a particular canoe at the time carrying about sixty men--"that canoe is my back-bone." then tareha, in bulk like a sea elephant, and sinking to the ankles in the shore of the lake, with a hoarse croaking voice roars out, "that canoe! my scull shall be the bailer to bail it out." this was a horribly strong _tapa_. then the soft voice of the famous hongi ika, surnamed "the eater of men," of _hongi kai tangata_, was heard, "those two canoes are my two thighs." and so the whole flotilla was appropriated by the different chiefs. now it followed from this, that in the storming and plunder of mokoia, when a warrior clapped his hand on a canoe and shouted, "this canoe is mine," the seizure would not stand good, if it was one of the canoes which were _tapa-tapa_; for it would be a frightful insult to pomare to claim to be the owner of his "back-bone," or to tareha to go on board a canoe which had been made sacred by the bare supposition that his "scull" should be a vessel to bail it with. of course the first man laying his hand on any other canoe and claiming it secured it for himself and tribe; always provided that the number of men there present representing his tribe or _hapu_ were sufficient to back his claim and render it dangerous to dispossess him. i have seen men shamefully robbed, for want of sufficient support, of their honest lawful gains; after all the trouble and risk they had gone to in killing the owners, of their plunder. but dishonest people are to be found almost everywhere; and i will say this, that my friends the maoris seldom act against law, and always try to be able to say that what they do is "correct"--(_tika_). this _tapu_ is a bore, even to write about, and i fear the reader is beginning to think it a bore to read about. it began long before the time of moses, and i think that steam navigation will be the death of it; but lest it should kill my reader i will have done with it for the present, and "try back," for i have left my story behind completely. chapter xiii. "my rangatira."--the respective duties of the pakeha and his rangatira.--public opinion.--a "pakeha kino."--description of my rangatira.--his exploits and misadventures.--his moral principles.--decline in the number of the natives.--proofs of former large population.--ancient forts.--causes of decrease. when i purchased my land, the payment was made on the ground, and immediately divided and subdivided amongst the different sellers. some of them who, according to their own representations formerly made to me, were the sole and only owners of the land, received for their share about the value of one shilling, and moreover, as i also observed, did not appear at all disappointed. one old _rangatira_, before whom a considerable portion of the payment had been laid as his share of the spoil, gave it a slight shove with his foot, expressive of refusal, and said, "i will not accept any of the payment; i will have the pakeha." i saw some of the magnates present seemed greatly disappointed at this, for i dare say they had expected to have the pakeha _as well_ as the payment. but the old gentleman had regularly check-mated them by refusing to accept any payment; and being also a person of great respectability, _i.e._, a good fighting man, with twenty more at his back, he was allowed to have his way: thereby, in the opinion of all the natives present, making a far better thing of the land sale than any of them, though he had received no part of the payment. i consequently was therefore a part, and by no means an inconsiderable one, of the payment for my own land; but though now part and parcel of the property of the old _rangatira_ aforementioned, a good deal of liberty was allowed me. the fact of my having become his pakeha made our respective relations and duties to each other about as follows-- firstly.--at all times, places, and companies, my owner had the right to call me "his pakeha." secondly.--he had the general privilege of "pot-luck" whenever he chose to honour my establishment with a visit: said pot-luck to be tumbled out to him on the ground before the house; he being far too great a man to eat out of plates or dishes, or any degenerate invention of that nature; as, if he did, they would all become _tapu_ and of no use to any one but himself: nor indeed to himself either, as he did not see the use of them. thirdly.--it was well understood that to avoid the unpleasant appearance of paying "black mail," and to keep up general kindly relations, my owner should from time to time make me small presents, and that in return i should make him presents of five or six times the value: all this to be done as if arising from mutual love and kindness, and not the slightest allusion to be ever made to the relative value of the gifts on either side. (an important article.) fourthly.--it was to be a _sine quâ non_ that i must purchase everything the chief or his family had to sell, whether i wanted them or not, and give the highest market price, or rather more. (another very important article.) fifthly.--the chief's own particular pipe was never to be allowed to become extinguished for want of the needful supply of tobacco. sixthly.--all desirable jobs of work, and all advantages of all kinds, to be offered first to the family of my _rangatira_, before letting any one else have them; payment for same to be about per cent. more than to any one else, exclusive of a _douceur_ to the chief himself, because he did not work. in return for these duties and customs, well and truly performed on my part, the chief was understood to-- firstly.--stick up for me in a general way, and not let me be bullied or imposed upon by any one but himself, so far as he was able to prevent it. secondly.--in case of me being plundered or maltreated by any powerful marauder, it was the duty of my chief to come in hot haste, with all his family, armed to the teeth, to my rescue--after all was over, and when it was too late to be of any service. he was also bound on such occasions to make a great noise, dance the war dance, and fire muskets (i finding the powder), and to declare loudly what he would have done had he only been in time. i, of course, on such occasions, for my own dignity, and in consideration of the spirited conduct of my friends, was bound to order two or three fat pigs to be killed, and lots of potatoes to be served out to the "army;" who were always expected to be starving, as a general rule. a distribution of tobacco, in the way of largess, was also a necessity of the case. thirdly.--in case of my losing anything of consequence by theft--a thing which, as a veracious pakeha, i am bound to say, seldom happened: the natives in those days being, as i have already mentioned, a very law observing people (of the law of _muru_), had, indeed, little occasion to steal; the above-named law answering their purposes in a general way much better, and helping them pretty certainly to any little matter they coveted: yet, as there are exceptions to all rules, theft would sometimes be committed--and then, as i was saying, it became the bounden duty of my _rangatira_ to get the stolen article back, if he was able, and keep it for himself for his trouble, unless i gave him something of more value in lieu thereof. under the above regulations, things went on pleasantly enough: the chief being restrained, by public opinion and the danger of the pakeha running away, from pushing his prerogative to the utmost limit; and the pakeha, on the other hand, making the commonalty pay for the indirect taxation he was subjected to; so that in general, after ten or fifteen years' residence, he would not be much poorer than when he arrived: unless, indeed, some unlucky accident happened, such as pakehas were liable to sometimes in the good old times. mentioning "public opinion" as a restraint on the chiefs' acquisitiveness, i must explain that a chief possessing a pakeha was much envied by his neighbours, who, in consequence, took every opportunity of scandalizing him, and blaming him for any rough plucking process he might subject the said pakeha to; and should he, by any awkward handling of this sort, cause the pakeha at last to run for it, the chief would never hear the end of it from his own family and connections: pakehas being, in those glorious old times, considered to be geese who laid golden eggs, and it was held to be the very extreme of foolishness and bad policy either to kill them, or, by too rough handling, to cause them to fly away. on the other hand, should the pakeha fail in a culpable manner in the performance of his duties--though he would not, as a rule, be subjected to any stated punishment--he would soon begin to find a most unaccountable train of accidents and all sorts of unpleasant occurrences happening; enough, in the aggregate, to drive job himself out of his wits: and, moreover, he would _get a bad name_, which, though he removed, would follow him from one end of the island to the other, and effectually prevent him having the slightest chance of doing any good,--that is, holding his own in the country; as the natives, wherever he went, would consider him a person out of whom the most was to be made at once, since he was not to be depended on as a source of permanent revenue. i have known several industrious, active, and sober pakehas who never could do any good, and whose lives, for a long series of years, were a mere train of mishaps, till at last they were reduced to extreme poverty; merely from having, in their first dealings with the natives, got a bad name, in consequence of not having been able to understand clearly the beauty of the set of regulations i have just mentioned, and from an inability to make them work smoothly. the bad name i have mentioned was short and expressive: wherever they went, there would be sure to be some one who would introduce them to their new acquaintances as "a pakeha _pakeke_,"--a hard pakeha; "a pakeha _taehae_"--a miser; or, to sum up all, "a pakeha _kino_." the chief who claimed me was a good specimen of the maori _rangatira_. he was a very old man, and had fought the french when marion, the french circumnavigator, was killed. he had killed a frenchman himself, and carried his thighs and legs many miles as a _bonne bouche_ for his friends at home at the pa. this old gentleman was not head of his tribe; but he was a man of good family, related to several high chiefs. he was head of a strong family, or _hapu_, which mustered a considerable number of fighting men; all his near relations. he had been himself a most celebrated fighting man, and a war chief; and was altogether a highly respectable person, and of great weight in the councils of the tribe. i may say i was fortunate in having been appropriated by this old patrician. he gave me very little trouble; did not press his rights and privileges too forcibly on my notice; and, in fact behaved in all respects towards me in so liberal and friendly a manner, that before long i began to have a very sincere regard for him, and he to take a sort of paternal interest in me; this was both gratifying to observe, and also extremely comical sometimes, when he, out of real anxiety to see me a perfectly accomplished _rangatira_, would lecture on good manners, etiquette, and the use of the spear. he was, indeed, a model of a _rangatira_, and well worth being described. he was a little man, with a high massive head, and remarkably high square forehead, on which the tattooer had exhausted his art. though, as i have said, of a great age, he was still nimble and active: he had evidently been one of those tough active men, who though small in stature, are a match for any one. there was in my old friend's eyes a sort of dull fiery appearance, which, when anything excited him, or when he recounted some of those numerous battles, onslaughts, massacres, or stormings, in which all the active part of his life had been spent, actually seemed to blaze up and give forth real fire. his breast was covered with spear wounds, and he also had two very severe spear wounds on his head; but he boasted that no single man had ever been able to touch him with the point of a spear. it was in grand _mélées_, where he would have sometimes six or eight antagonists, that he had received these wounds. he was a great general, and i have heard him criticise closely the order and conduct of every battle of consequence which had been fought for fifty years before my arrival in the country. on these occasions the old "martialist" would draw on the sand the plan of the battle he was criticising and describing; and, in the course of time i began to perceive that, before the introduction of the musket, the art of war had been brought to great perfection by the natives: when large numbers were engaged in a pitched battle, the order of battle resembled, in a most striking manner, some of the most approved orders of battle of the ancients. since the introduction of fire-arms the natives have entirely altered their tactics, and adopted a system better adapted to the new weapon and the nature of the country. my old friend had a great hatred for the musket. he said that in battles fought with the musket there were never so many men killed as when, in his young days, men fought hand to hand with the spear: then a good warrior would kill six, eight, ten, or even twenty men in a single fight. for when once the enemy broke and commenced to run, the combatants being so close together, a fast runner would knock a dozen on the head in a short time; and the great aim of these fast-running warriors, of whom my old friend had been one, was to chase straight on and never stop, only striking one blow at one man, so as to cripple him, in order that those behind should be sure to overtake and finish him. it was not uncommon for one man, strong and swift of foot, when the enemy were fairly routed, to stab with a light spear ten or a dozen men, in such a way as to ensure their being overtaken and killed. on one occasion of this kind my old tutor had the misfortune to stab a running man in the back: he did it of course scientifically, so as to stop his running; and as he passed him by he perceived it was his wife's brother, who was finished immediately by the men close behind. i should have said that the man was a brother of one of my friend's four wives; which being the case, i dare say he had a sufficient number of brothers-in-law to afford to kill one now and then. a worse mishap, however, occurred to him on another occasion. he was returning from a successful expedition from the south (in the course of which, by-the-by, he and his men killed and cooked in shortland-crescent, several men of the enemy, and forced three others to jump over a cliff which is, i think, now called soldier's-point), when off the mahurangi a smoke was seen rising from amongst the trees near the beach. they at once concluded that it came from the fires of people belonging to that part of the country, and who they considered as game; they therefore waited till night, concealing their canoes behind some rocks, and when it became dark, landed; they then divided into two parties, took the supposed enemy completely by surprise, and attacked, rushing upon them from two opposite directions at once. my _rangatira_, dashing furiously among them, and--as i can well suppose--those eyes of his flashing fire, had the happiness of once again killing the first man, and being authorized to shout "_ki au te mataika!_" a few more blows, and the parties recognize each other: they are friends!--men of the same tribe! who is the last _mataika_ slain by this famous warrior? quick, bring a flaming brand--here he lies dead! ha! it is his father! now an ancient knight of romance, under similar awkward circumstances, would probably have retired from public life, sought out some forest cave, where he would have hung up his armour, let his beard grow, flogged himself twice a day "regular," and lived on "pulse"--which i suppose means pea-soup--for the rest of his life. but my old _rangatira_ and his companions had not a morsel of that sort of romance about them. the killing of my friend's father was looked upon as a very clever exploit in itself; though a very unlucky one. so after having scolded one another for some time--one party telling the other they were served right for not keeping a better look out, and the other answering that they should have been sure who they were going to attack before making the onset--they all held a _tangi_ or lamentation for the old warrior who had just received his _mittimus_; and then killing a prisoner, whom they had brought in the canoes for fresh provisions, they had a good feast; after which they returned all together to their own country, taking the body of their lamented relative along with them. this happened many years before i came to the country, and when my _rangatira_ was one of the most famous fighting-men in his tribe. this maori _rangatira_ i am describing had passed his whole life, with but little intermission, in scenes of battle, murder, and bloodthirsty atrocities of the most terrific description; mixed with actions of the most heroic courage, self-sacrifice, and chivalric daring, as leaves one perfectly astounded to find them the deeds of one and the same people: one day doing acts which, had they been performed in ancient greece, would have immortalized the actors, and the next committing barbarities too horrible for relation, and almost incredible. the effect of a life of this kind was observable plainly enough, in my friend. he was utterly devoid of what weak mortals call "compassion." he seemed to have no more feeling for the pain, tortures, or death of others than a stone. should one of his family be dying or wounded, he merely felt it as the loss of one fighting man. as for the death of a woman, or any non-combatant, he did not feel it at all; though the person might have suffered horrid tortures: indeed i have seen him scolding severely a fine young man, his near relative, when actually expiring, for being such a fool as to blow himself up by accident, and deprive his family of a fighting man. the last words the dying man heard were these:--"it serves you right. there you are, looking very like a burnt stick! it serves you right--a burnt stick! serves you right!" it really _was_ vexatious. a fine stout young fellow to be wasted in that way. as for fear, i saw one or two instances to prove he knew very little about it: indeed, to be killed in battle seemed to him a natural death. he was always grumbling that the young men thought of nothing but trading; and whenever he proposed to them to take him where he might have a final battle (_he riri wakamutunga_), where he might escape dying of old age, they always kept saying, "wait till we get more muskets," or "more gunpowder," or more something or another: "as if men could not be killed without muskets!" he was not cruel either; he was only unfeeling. he had been guilty, it is true, in his time, of what we should call terrific atrocities to his prisoners; which he calmly and calculatingly perpetrated as _utu_, or retaliation for similar barbarities committed by them or their tribe. and here i must retract the word guilty, which i see i have written inadvertently; for--according to the morals and principles of the people of whom he was one, and of the time to which he belonged, and the training he had received--so far from being guilty, he did a praiseworthy, glorious, and public-spirited action when he opened the jugular vein of a bound captive and sucked huge draughts of his blood. to say the truth, he was a very nice old man, and i liked him very much. it would not, however, be advisable to put him in a passion; not much good would be likely to arise from it: as, indeed, i could show by one or two very striking instances which came under my notice; though, to say the truth, he was not easily put out of temper. he had one great moral rule,--it was, indeed, his rule of life: he held that every man had a right to do everything and anything he chose, provided he was able and willing to stand the consequences; though he thought some men fools for trying to do things which they could not carry out pleasantly, and which ended in getting them baked. i once hinted to him that, should every one reduce these principles to practice, he himself might find it awkward; particularly as he had so many mortal enemies. to which he replied, with a look which seemed to pity my ignorance, that every one _did_ practise this rule to the best of their abilities, but that some were not so able as others; and that as for his enemies, he should take care they never surprised _him_: a surprise being, indeed, the only thing he seemed to have any fear at all of. in truth, he had occasion to look out sharp. he never was known to sleep more than three or four nights in the same place, and often, when there were ill omens, he would not sleep in a house at all, or two nights following in one place, for a month together. i never saw him without both spear and tomahawk, and ready to defend himself at a second's notice: a state of preparation perfectly necessary, for though in his own country and surrounded by his tribe, his death would have been such a triumph for hundreds, not of distant enemies, but of people within a day's journey, that none could tell at what moment some stout young fellow in search of _utu_ and a "_ingoa toa_" (a warlike reputation) might rush upon him, determined to have his head or leave his own. the old buck himself had, indeed, performed several exploits of this nature; the last of which occurred just at the time i came into the country, but before i had the advantage of his acquaintance. his tribe were at war with some people at the distance of about a day's journey. one of their villages was on the border of a dense forest. my _rangatira_, then a very old man, started off alone, and without saying a word to any one, took his way through the forest, which extended the whole way between his village and the enemy, crept like a lizard into the enemy's village, and then, shouting his war cry, dashed amongst a number of people he saw sitting together on the ground, and who little expected such a salute. in a minute he had run three men and one woman through the body, received five dangerous spear-wounds himself, and escaped to the forest; and finally he got safe home to his own country and people. truly my old _rangatira_ was a man of a thousand,--a model _rangatira_. this exploit, if possible, added to his reputation, and every one said his _mana_ would never decline. the enemy had been panic stricken, thinking a whole tribe were upon them, and fled like a flock of sheep: except the three men who were killed. they all attacked my old chief at once, and were all disposed of in less than a minute, after, as i have said, giving him five desperate wounds. the woman was just "stuck," as a matter of course, as she came in his way. the natives are unanimous in affirming that they were much more numerous in former times than they are now, and i am convinced that such was the case, for the following reasons. the old hill forts are many of them so large that an amount of labour must have been expended in trenching, terracing, and fencing them--and all without iron tools, which increased the difficulty a hundred-fold--that must have required a vastly greater population to accomplish than can be now found in the surrounding districts. these forts were also of such an extent that, taking into consideration the system of attack and defence used necessarily in those times, they would have been utterly untenable unless held by at least ten times the number of men the whole surrounding districts, for two or three days' journey, can produce. and yet, when we remember that in those times of constant war--being the two centuries preceding the arrival of the europeans--the natives always, as a rule, slept in these hill forts with closed gates, bridges over trenches removed, and ladders of terraces drawn up, we must come to the conclusion that the inhabitants of the fort, though so numerous, were merely the population of the country in the close vicinity. now from the top of one of these pointed, trenched, and terraced hills, i have counted twenty others, all of equally large dimensions, and all within a distance, in every direction, of fifteen to twenty miles; and native tradition affirms that each of these hills was the stronghold of a separate _hapu_ or clan, bearing its distinctive name. there is also the most unmistakable evidence that vast tracts of country, which have lain wild time out of mind, were once fully cultivated. the ditches for draining the land are still traceable, and large pits are to be seen in hundreds, on the tops of the dry hills, all over the northern part of the north island, in which the _kumera_ were once stored; and these pits are, in the greatest number, found in the centre of great open tracts of uncultivated country, where a rat in the present day would hardly find subsistence. the old drains, and the peculiar growth of the timber, mark clearly the extent of these ancient cultivations. it is also very observable that large tracts of very inferior land have been in cultivation; which would lead to the inference that either the population was pretty nearly proportioned to the extent of available land, or that the tracts of inferior land were cultivated merely because they were not too far removed from the fort: for the shape of the hill, and its capability of defence and facility of fortification, was of more consequence than the fertility of the surrounding country. these _kumera_ pits, being dug generally in the stiff clay on the hill tops, have, in most cases, retained their shape perfectly; and many seem as fresh and new as if they had been dug but a few years. they are oblong in shape, with the sides regularly sloped. many collections of these provision stores have outlived maori tradition, and the natives can only conjecture to whom they belonged. out of the centre of one of them which i have seen, there is now growing a kauri tree one hundred and twenty feet high, and out of another a large totara. the outline of these pits is as perfect as the day they were dug, and the sides have not fallen in in the slightest degree; from which perhaps they have been preserved by the absence of frost, as well as by a beautiful coating of moss, by which they are everywhere covered. the pit in which the kauri grew, had been partially filled up by the scaling off of the bark of the tree; which, falling off in patches, as it is constantly doing, had raised a mound of decaying bark round the root of the tree. another evidence of a very large number of people having once inhabited these hill forts is the number of houses they contained. every native house, it appears, in former times, as in the present, had a fire-place composed of four flat stones or flags sunk on their edges into the ground, so as to form an oblong case or trunk, in which at night a fire to heat the house was made. now, in two of the largest hill forts i have examined (though for ages no vestige of a house had been seen) there remained the fire-places--the four stones projecting like an oblong box slightly over the ground; and their position and number denoted clearly that, large as the circumference of the huge volcanic hill was which formed the fortress, the number of families inhabiting it necessitated the strictest economy of room. the houses had been arranged in streets, or double rows, with a path between them; except in places where there had been only room on a terrace for a single row. the distances between the fire-places proved that the houses in the rows must have been as close together as it was possible to build them; and every spot, from the foot to the hill-top, not required and specially planned for defensive purposes, had been built on in this regular manner. even the small flat top, sixty yards long by forty wide,--the citadel,--on which the greatest care and labour had been bestowed to render it difficult of access, had been as full of houses as it could hold; leaving only a small space all round the precipitous bank for the defenders to stand on. these little fire-places, and the scarped and terraced conical hills, are the only mark the maori of ancient times have left of their existence. and i have reasons for believing that this country has been inhabited from a more remote period by far than is generally supposed. these reasons i found upon the dialect of the maori language spoken by the maori of new zealand, as well as on many other circumstances. we may easily imagine that a hill of this kind, covered from bottom to top with houses thatched and built of reeds, rushes, and raupo, would be a mere mass of combustible matter; and such indeed was the case. when an enemy attacked one of these places, a common practice was to shower into the place, from slings, red-hot stones, which, sinking into the dry thatch of the houses, would cause a general conflagration. should this once occur the place was sure to be taken. this mode of attack was consequently much feared; all hands not engaged at the outer defences, and all women and non-combatants, being employed guarding against this danger, by pouring water out of calabashes on every smoke that appeared. the natives also practised both mining and escalade in attacking a hill fort. the natives attribute their decrease in numbers, before the arrival of the europeans, to war and sickness; disease possibly arising from the destruction of food and the forced neglect of cultivation caused by the constant and furious wars which devastated the country for a long period before the arrival of the europeans: and to such an extent that the natives at last believed a constant state of warfare to be the natural condition of life, and their sentiments, feelings, and maxims became gradually formed on this belief. nothing was so valuable or respectable as strength and courage, and to acquire property by war and plunder was more honourable and also more desirable than by labour. cannibalism was glorious. in a word, the island was a pandemonium. a rugged wight, the worst of brutes, was man; on his own wretched kind he ruthless prey'd. the strongest then the weakest overran, in every country mighty robbers sway'd, and guile and ruffian force was all their trade. since the arrival of the europeans the decrease of the natives has also been rapid. in that part of the country where i have had means of accurate observation, they have decreased in number since my arrival rather more than one-third. i have, however, observed that this decrease has for the last ten years been very considerably checked; though i do not believe this improvement is general through the country, or even permanent where i have observed it. the first grand cause of the decrease of the natives since the arrival of the europeans is the musket. the nature of the ancient maori weapons prompted them to seek out vantage ground, and to take up positions on precipitous hill-tops, and make those high, dry, airy situations their regular fixed residences. their ordinary course of life, when not engaged in warfare, was regular, and not necessarily unhealthy; their labour, though constant in one shape or other, and compelled by necessity, was not too heavy. in the morning, but not early, they descended from the hill pa to the cultivations in the low ground; they went in a body, armed like men going to battle, the spear or club in one hand, and the agricultural instrument in the other. the women followed. long before night (it was counted unlucky to work till dark) they returned to the hill in a reversed order; the women, slaves, and lads, bearing fuel and water for the night, in front: these also bore probably heavy loads of _kumera_ or other provisions. in the time of year when the crops, being planted and growing, did not call for their attention, the whole tribe would remove to some fortified hill, at the side of some river, or on the coast, where they would pass months in fishing and making nets, clubs, spears, and implements of various descriptions; the women, in all spare time, making mats for clothing, or baskets to carry the crop of _kumera_ in, when fit to dig. there was very little idleness; and to be called "lazy" was a great reproach. it is to be observed that for several months the crops could be left thus unguarded with perfect safety, for the maori, as a general rule, never destroyed growing crops, or attacked their owners in a regular manner until the crops were nearly at full perfection, so that they might afford subsistence to the invaders; and consequently the end of the summer all over the country was a time of universal preparation for battle, either offensive or defensive, the crops then being near maturity. now when the natives became generally armed with the musket they at once abandoned the hills, and, to save themselves the great labour and inconvenience occasioned by the necessity of continually carrying provisions, fuel, and water to these precipitous hill-castles--which would be also, as a matter of necessity, at some inconvenient distance from at least some part of the extensive cultivations--descended to the low lands, and there, in the centre of the cultivations, erected a new kind of fortification adapted to the capabilities of the new weapon. _this_ was their destruction. for they built their oven-like houses in mere swamps, where the water, even in summer, sprang with the pressure of the foot, and where in winter the houses were often completely flooded. there, lying on the spongy soil, on beds of rushes which rotted under them--in little low dens of houses, or kennels, heated like ovens at night and dripping with damp in the day--full of noxious exhalations from the damp soil, and impossible to ventilate--they were cut off by disease in a manner absolutely frightful. no advice would they take: they could not _see_ the enemy which killed them, and therefore could not believe the europeans who pointed out the cause of their destruction. this change of residence was universal, and everywhere followed by the same consequences, more or less marked: the strongest men were cut off and but few children were reared. and even now, after the dreadful experience they have had, and all the continual remonstrances of their pakeha friends, they take but very little more precaution in choosing sites for their houses than at first; and when a native village or a native house happens to be in a dry healthy situation, it is often more the effect of accident than design. twenty years ago a _hapu_, in number just forty persons, removed their _kainga_ from a dry healthy position to the edge of a _raupo_ swamp. i happened to be at the place a short time after the removal, and with me there was a medical gentleman who was travelling through the country. in creeping into one of the houses (the chief's) through the low door, i was obliged to put both my hands to the ground; they both sank into the swampy soil, making holes which immediately filled with water. the chief and his family were lying on the ground on rushes, and a fire was burning, which made the little den, not in the highest place more than five feet high, feel like an oven. i called the attention of my friend to the state of this place called a "house." he merely said, "_men_ cannot live here." eight years from that day the whole _hapu_ were extinct; but, as i remember, two persons were shot for bewitching them and causing their deaths. many other causes combined at the same time to work the destruction of the natives. besides the change of residence from the high and healthy hill forts to the low grounds, there were the hardship, over-labour, exposure, and half-starvation, to which they submitted themselves--firstly, to procure these very muskets which enabled them to make the fatal change of residence and afterwards to procure the highly and justly valued iron implements of the europeans. when we reflect that a ton of cleaned flax was the price paid for two muskets, and at an earlier date for one musket, we can see at once the amount of exertion necessary to obtain it. but supposing a man to get a musket for half a ton of flax, another half-ton would be required for ammunition; and in consequence, as every man in a native _hapu_ of, say a hundred men, was absolutely forced on pain of death to procure a musket and ammunition at any cost, and at the earliest possible moment (for, if they did not procure them, extermination was their doom by the hands of those of their country-men who had), the effect was that this small _hapu_, or clan, had to manufacture, spurred by the penalty of death, in the shortest possible time, one hundred tons of flax, scraped by hand with a shell, bit by bit, morsel by morsel, half-a-quarter of an ounce at a time. now as the natives, when undisturbed and labouring regularly at their cultivations, were never far removed from necessity or scarcity of food, we may easily imagine the distress and hardship caused by this enormous imposition of extra labour. they were obliged to neglect their crops in a very serious degree, and for many months in the year were in a half-starving condition; working hard all the time in the flax swamps. the insufficient food, over-exertion, and unwholesome locality, killed them fast. as for the young children, they almost all died; and this state of things continued for many years: for it was long after being supplied with arms and ammunition before the natives could purchase, by similar exertion, the various agricultural implements, and other iron tools so necessary to them; and it must always be remembered, if we wish to understand the difficulties and over-labour the natives were subjected to, that while undergoing this immense extra toil, they were at the same time obliged to maintain themselves by cultivating the ground with sharpened sticks, not being able to afford to purchase iron implements in any useful quantity, till first the great, pressing, paramount want of muskets and gunpowder had been supplied. thus continual excitement, over-work, and insufficient food, exposure, and unhealthy places of residence, together with a general breaking up of old habits of life, thinned their numbers: european diseases also assisted, but not to any very serious extent. in the part of the country in which i have had means of observing with exactitude, the natives have decreased in numbers over one-third since i first saw them. that this rapid decrease has been checked in some districts, i am sure, and the cause is not a mystery. the influx of europeans has caused a competition in trading, which enables them to get the highest value for the produce of their labour, and at the same time has opened to them a hundred new lines of industry, and afforded them other opportunities of becoming possessed of property. they have not at all improved these advantages as they might have done; but are, nevertheless, as it were in spite of themselves, on the whole, richer--_i.e._, better clothed, fed, and in some degree lodged, than in past years; and i see the plough now running where i once saw the rude pointed stick poking the ground. i do not, however, believe that this improvement exists in more than one or two districts in any remarkable degree, nor do i think it will be permanent where it does exist; insomuch as i have said that the improvement is not the result of providence, economy, or industry, but of a train of temporary circumstances favourable to the natives: and which, if unimproved, as they most probably will be, will end in no permanent good result. chapter xiv. trading in the old times.--the native difficulty.--virtue its own reward.--rule, britannia.--death of my chief.--his dying speech. --rescue.--how the world goes round. from the years to , the vessels trading for flax had, when at anchor, boarding nettings up to the tops; all the crew were armed, and, as a standing rule, not more than five natives, on any pretence, allowed on board at one time. trading for flax in those days was to be undertaken by a man who had his wits about him; and an old flax trader of those days, with his ton schooner "out of sydney," cruising all round the coast of new zealand, picking up his five tons at one port, ten at another, twenty at another, and so on, had questions, commercial, diplomatic, and military, to solve every day, that would drive all the "native department," with the minister at their head, clean out of their senses. talk to me of the "native difficulty"--pooh! i think it was in that an old friend of mine bought, at kawhia, a woman who was just going to be baked. he gave a cartridge-box full of cartridges for her; which was a great deal more than she was really worth: but humanity does not stick at trifles. he took her back to her friends at taranaki, whence she had been taken, and her friends there gave him at once two tons of flax and eighteen pigs, and asked him to remain a few days longer till they should collect a still larger present in return for his kindness; but, as he found out their intention was to take the schooner, and knock himself and crew on the head, he made off in the night. yet he maintains, to this day, that "virtue is its own reward:" "at least 'tis so at taranaki." virtue, however, must have been on a visit to some other country (she _does_ go out sometimes), when i saw and heard a british subject, a slave to some natives on the west coast, begging hard for somebody to buy him. the price asked was one musket; but the only person on board the vessel possessing those articles, preferred to invest in a different commodity. the consequence was, that the above-mentioned unit of the great british nation lived, and ("rule, britannia" to the contrary notwithstanding) died a slave: but whether he was buried, deponent sayeth not. my old _rangatira_ at last began to show signs that his time to leave this world of care was approaching. he had arrived at a great age, and a rapid and general breaking up of his strength became plainly observable. he often grumbled that men should grow old, and oftener that no great war broke out in which he might make a final display, and die with _éclat_. the last two years of his life were spent almost entirely at my house; which, however, he never entered. he would sit whole days on a fallen puriri near the house, with his spear sticking up beside him, and speaking to no one, but sometimes humming in a low droning tone some old ditty which no one knew the meaning of but himself, and at night he would disappear to some of the numerous nests, or little sheds, he had around the place. in summer, he would roll himself in his blanket and sleep anywhere; but no one could tell exactly where. in the hot days of summer, when his blood, i suppose, got a little warm, he would sometimes become talkative, and recount the exploits of his youth. as he warmed to the subject, he would seize his spear and go through all the incidents of some famous combat, repeating every thrust, blow, and parry, as they actually occurred, and going through as much exertion as if he was really and truly fighting for his life. he used to go through these pantomimic labours as a duty whenever he had an assemblage of the young men of the tribe around him; to whom, as well as to myself, he was most anxious to communicate that which he considered the most valuable of all knowledge, a correct idea of the uses of the spear, a weapon he really used in a most graceful and scientific manner; but he would ignore the fact that "young new zealand" had laid down the weapon for ever, and already matured a new system of warfare adapted to their new weapons, and only listened to his lectures out of respect to himself, and not for his science. at last this old lion was taken seriously ill, and removed permanently to the village; and one evening a smart, handsome lad, of about twelve years of age, came to tell me that his _tupuna_ was dying, and had said he would "go" to-morrow, and had sent for me to see him before he died. the boy also added that the tribe were _ka poto_, or assembled, to the last man, around the dying chief. i must here mention that, though this old _rangatira_ was not the head of his tribe, he had been for about half a century the recognized war chief of almost all the sections, or _hapu_, of a very numerous and warlike _iwi_, or tribe, who had now assembled from all their distant villages and pas to see him die. i could not, of course, neglect the invitation, so at daylight next morning i started on foot for the native village. on my arrival about mid-day, i found it crowded by a great assemblage of natives. i was saluted by the usual _haere mai!_ and a volley of musketry. i at once perceived that, out of respect to my old owner, the whole tribe from far and near, hundreds of whom i had never seen, considered it necessary to make much of me,--at least for that day,--and i found myself consequently at once in the position of a "personage." "here comes the pakeha!--_his_ pakeha!--make way for the pakeha!--kill those dogs that are barking at the pakeha!" bang! bang! here a double barrel nearly blew my cap off, by way of salute: i did for a moment think my head was off. however, being quite _au fait_ in maori etiquette by this time, thanks to the instructions and example of my old friend, i fixed my eyes with a vacant expression, looking only straight before me, recognized nobody, and took notice of nothing; not even the muskets fired under my nose or close to my back at every step, and each, from having four or five charges of powder, making a report like a cannon. on i stalked, looking neither to the right or the left, with my spear walking-staff in my hand, to where i saw a great crowd, and where i of course knew the dying man was. i walked straight on, not even pretending to see the crowd: as was "correct" under the circumstances; i being supposed to be entranced by the one absorbing thought of seeing "mataora," or once more in life my _rangatira_. the crowd divided as i came up, and closed again behind me as i stood in the front rank before the old chief, motionless; and, as in duty bound, trying to look the image of mute despair: which i flatter myself i did, to the satisfaction of all parties. the old man i saw at once was at his last hour. he had dwindled to a mere skeleton. no food of any kind had been prepared for or offered to him for three days: as he was dying it was of course considered unnecessary. at his right side lay his spear, tomahawk, and musket. (i never saw him with the musket in his hand all the time i knew him.) over him was hanging his greenstone _mere_, and at his left side, close, and touching him, sat a stout, athletic savage, with a countenance disgustingly expressive of cunning and ferocity; and who, as he stealthily marked me from the corner of his eye, i recognized as one of those limbs of satan, a maori _tohunga_. the old man was propped up in a reclining position, his face towards the assembled tribe, who were all there waiting to catch his last words. i stood before him and i thought i perceived he recognized me. still all was silence, and for a full half hour we all stood there, waiting patiently for the closing scene. once or twice the _tohunga_ said to him in a very loud voice, "the tribe are assembled, you won't die silent?" at last, after about half an hour, he became restless, his eyes rolled from side to side, and he tried to speak; but failed. the circle of men closed nearer, and there was evidence of anxiety and expectation amongst them; but a dead silence was maintained. then suddenly, without any apparent effort, and in a manner which startled me, the old man spoke clearly out, in the ringing metallic tone of voice for which he had been formerly so remarkable, particularly when excited. he spoke. "hide my bones quickly where the enemy may not find them: hide them at once." he spoke again--"oh my tribe, be brave! be brave that you may live. listen to the words of my pakeha; he will unfold the designs of his tribe." this was in allusion to a very general belief amongst the natives at the time, that the europeans designed sooner or later to exterminate them and take the country; a thing the old fellow had cross-questioned me about a thousand times: and the only way i could find to ease his mind was to tell him that if ever i heard any such proposal i would let him know, protesting at the same time that no such intention existed. this notion of the natives has since that time done much harm, and will do more, for it is not yet quite given up. he continued--"i give my _mere_ to my pakeha,"--"my two old wives will hang themselves,"--(here a howl of assent from the two old women in the rear rank)--"i am going; be brave after i am gone." here he began to rave; he fancied himself in some desperate battle, for he began to call to celebrated comrades who had been dead forty or fifty years. i remember every word--"charge!" shouted he--"charge! _wata_, charge! _tara_, charge! charge!" then after a short pause--"rescue! rescue! to my rescue! _ahau! ahau! rescue!_" the last cry for "rescue" was in such a piercing tone of anguish and utter desperation, that involuntarily i advanced a foot and hand, as if starting to his assistance; a movement, as i found afterwards, not unnoticed by the superstitious tribe. at the same instant that he gave the last despairing and most agonizing cry for "rescue," i saw his eyes actually blaze, his square jaw locked, he set his teeth, and rose nearly to a sitting position, and then fell back dying. he only murmured--"how sweet is man's flesh," and then the gasping breath and upturned eye announced the last moment. the _tohunga_ now, bending close to the dying man's ear, roared out, "_kia kotahi ki te ao! kia kotahi ki te ao! kia kotahi ki te po!_" the poor savage was now, as i believe, past hearing, and gasping his last "_kia kotahi ki te ao!_"--shouted the devil priest again in his ear, and shaking his shoulder roughly with his hand--"_kia kotahi ki te ao!--kia kotahi ki te po!_" then giving a significant look to the surrounding hundreds of natives, a roar of musketry burst forth. _kia kotahi ki te ao!_ thus in a din like pandemonium, guns firing, women screaming, and the accursed _tohunga_ shouting in his ear, died "lizard skin," as good a fighting man as ever worshipped force or trusted in the spear. his death on the whole was thought happy; for his last words were full of good omen:--"how sweet is man's flesh." next morning the body had disappeared. this was contrary to ordinary custom, but in accordance with the request of the old warrior. no one, even of his own tribe, knows where his body is concealed, but the two men who carried it off in the night. all i know is that it lies in a cave, with the spear and tomahawk beside it. the two old wives were hanging by the neck from a scaffold at a short distance, which had been made to place potatoes on out of the reach of rats. the shrivelled old creatures were quite dead. i was for a moment forgetful of the "correct" thing, and called to an old chief, who was near, to cut them down. he said, in answer to my hurried call, "by-and-by; it is too soon yet: _they might recover_." "oh," said i, at once recalled to my sense of propriety, "i thought they had been hanging all night," and thus escaped the great risk of being thought a mere meddling pakeha. i now perceived the old chief was employed making a stretcher, or _kauhoa_, to carry the bodies on. at a short distance also were five old creatures of women sitting in a row, crying, with their eyes fixed on the hanging objects, and everything was evidently going on _selon les règles_. i walked on. "_e tika ana_," said i, to myself. "it's all right, i dare say." the two young wives had also made a desperate attempt in the night to hang themselves, but had been prevented by two young men, who, by some unaccountable accident, had come upon them just as they were stringing themselves up; and who, seeing that they were not actually "ordered for execution," by great exertion, and with the assistance of several female relations, whom they called to their assistance, prevented them from killing themselves out of respect for their old lord. perhaps it was to revenge themselves for this meddling interference that these two young women married the two young men before the year was out; in consequence of which, and as a matter of course, the husbands were robbed by the tribe of everything they had in the world (which was not much), except their arms. they also had to fight some half-dozen duels each with spears; in which, however, no one was killed, and no more blood drawn than could be well spared. all this they went through with commendable resignation; and so, due respect having been paid to the memory of the old chief, and the appropriators of his widows duly punished according to law, farther proceedings were stayed, and everything went on comfortably. and so the world goes round. chapter xv. mana.--young new zealand.--the law of england.--"pop goes the weasel."--right if we have might.--god save the queen.--good advice. in the afternoon i went home musing on what i had heard and seen. "surely," thought i, "if one half of the world does not know how the other half live, neither do they know how they die." some days after this a deputation arrived to deliver up my old friend's _mere_. it was a weapon of great _mana_, and was delivered with some little ceremony. i perceive now that i have written this word _mana_ several times, and think i may as well explain what it means. this is the more necessary, as the word has been bandied about a good deal of late years, and meanings have been often attached to it by europeans which are incorrect, but which the natives sometimes accept because it suits their purpose. this same word _mana_ has several different meanings; the difference between these diverse meanings is sometimes very great, and sometimes only a mere shade of meaning, though one very necessary to observe; and it is, therefore, quite impossible to find any one single word in english, or in any other language that i have any acquaintance with, which will give the full and precise meaning of _mana_. moreover, though i myself do know all the meanings and different shades of meaning, properly belonging to the word, i find a great difficulty in explaining them; but as i have begun, the thing must be done. it will also be a tough word disposed of to my hand, when i come to write my maori dictionary, in a hundred volumes; which, if i begin soon, i hope to have finished before the maori is a dead language. now then for _mana_. _virtus_, _prestige_, authority, good fortune, influence, sanctity, luck, are all words which, under certain conditions, give something near the meaning of _mana_, though not one of them gives it exactly: but before i have done, the reader shall have a reasonable notion (for a pakeha) of what it is. _mana_ sometimes means a more than natural virtue or power attaching to some person or thing, different from and independent of the ordinary natural conditions of either, and capable of either increase or diminution, both from known and unknown causes. the _mana_ of a priest or _tohunga_ is proved by the truth of his predictions, as well as the success of his incantations; _which same incantations, performed by another person of inferior mana, would have no effect_. consequently, this description of _mana_ is a virtue, or more than natural or ordinary condition attaching to the priest himself; and which he may become possessed of and also lose without any volition of his own. when apollo from his shrine, no longer could divine, the hollow steep of delphos sadly leaving,-- _then_ the oracle had lost its _mana_. then there is the doctors' _mana_. the maori doctors in the old times did not deal much in "simples," but they administered large doses of _mana_. now when most of a doctor's patients recovered, his _mana_ was supposed to be in full feather; but if, as will happen sometimes to the best practitioners, a number of patients should slip through his fingers _seriatim_, then his _mana_ was suspected to be getting weak, and he would not be liable to be "knocked up" so frequently as formerly. _mana_ in another sense is the accompaniment of power, but not the power itself: nor is it even in this sense exactly "authority," according to the strict meaning of that word, though it comes very near it. this is the chiefs _mana_. let him lose the power, and the _mana_ is gone. but mind you do not translate _mana_ as power; that won't do: they are two different things entirely. of this nature also is the _mana_ of a tribe; but this is not considered to be the supernatural kind of _mana_. then comes the _mana_ of a warrior. uninterrupted success in war proves it. it has a _slight_ touch of the supernatural, but not much. good fortune comes near the meaning, but is just a little too weak. the warrior's _mana_ is just a little something more than bare good fortune; a severe defeat would shake it terribly; two or three in succession would show that it was gone: but before leaving him, some supernaturally ominous occurrence might be expected to take place, such as are said to have happened before the deaths of julius cæsar, marcus antonius, or brutus. let not any one smile at my comparing, even in the most distant way, the old maori warriors with these illustrious romans; for if they do, i shall answer that some of the old maori _toa_ were thought as much of in _their_ world, as any greek or roman of old was in his: and, moreover, it is my private opinion, that if the best of them could only have met my friend "lizard skin," in his best days, and would have taken off his armour and fought fair, that the aforesaid "lizard skin" would have tickled him to his heart's content with the point of his spear. a fortress often assailed but never taken has a _mana_, and one of a high description too. the name of the fortress becomes a _pepeha_, a war boast or motto, and a war cry of encouragement or defiance; like the _slogan_ of the ancient highlanders in scotland. a spear, a club, or a _mere_, may have a _mana_; which in most cases means that it is a lucky weapon which good fortune attends, if the bearer minds what he is about: but some weapons of the old times had a stronger _mana_ than this, like the _mana_ of the enchanted weapons we read of in old romances or fairy tales. let any one who likes give an english word for this kind of _mana_. i have done with it. i had once a tame pig, which, before heavy rain, would always cut extraordinary capers and squeak like mad. every pakeha said he was "weather-wise;" but all the maori said it was a "_poaka whai mana_," a pig possessed of _mana_; _for it had more than natural powers_, and could foretell rain. if ever this talk about the good old times be printed and published, and every one should buy it, and read it, and quote it, and believe every word in it--as they ought, seeing that every word is true--then it will be a _puka puka whai mana_, a book of _mana_; and i shall have a high opinion of the good sense and good taste of the new zealand public. when the law of england is the law of new zealand, and the queen's writ will run, then both the queen and the law will have great _mana_: but i don't think either will ever happen, and so neither will have any _mana_ of consequence. if the reader has not some faint notion of _mana_ by this time, i can't help it: i can't do any better for him. i must confess i have not pleased myself. any european language can be translated easily enough into any other; but to translate maori into english is much harder to do than is supposed by those who do it every day with ease; but who do not know their own language, or any other but maori, perfectly. i am always blowing up "young new zealand," and calling them "reading, riting, rethmatiking" vagabonds, who will never equal their fathers; but i mean it all for their good--(poor things!)--like a father scolding his children. but one _does_ get vexed sometimes. their grandfathers, if they had "no backs," had at least good legs; but the grandsons can't walk a day's journey to save their lives: _they_ must _ride_. the other day i saw a young maori chap on a good horse; he wore a black hat and polished wellingtons, his hat was cocked knowingly to one side, and he was jogging along with one hand jingling the money in his pocket; and may i never see another war dance, if the hardened villain was not whistling "pop goes the weasel!" what will all this end in? my only hope is in a handy way (to give them their due) which they have with a _tupara_; and this is why i don't think the law will have much _mana_ here in my time: i mean the _pakeha_ law; for, to say the worst of them, they are not yet so far demoralized as to stand any nonsense of that kind; which is a comfort to think of. i am a loyal subject to queen victoria, but i am also a member of a maori tribe; and i hope i may never see this country so enslaved and tamed that a single rascally policeman, with nothing but a bit of paper in his hand, can come and take a _rangatira_ away from the middle of his _hapu_, and have him hanged for something of no consequence at all, except that it is against the law. what would old "lizard skin" say to it? his grandson certainly is now a magistrate, and if anything is stolen from a pakeha, he will get it back, _if he can_, and won't stick to it, because he gets a salary in lieu thereof; but he has told me certain matters in confidence, and which i therefore cannot disclose. i can only hint there was something said about "the law," and "driving the pakeha into the sea." i must not trust myself to write on these matters. i get so confused, that i feel just as if i was two different persons at the same time. sometimes i find myself thinking on the maori side, and then just afterwards wondering if "we" can lick the maori, and set the law upon its legs; which is the only way to do it. i therefore hope the reader will make allowance for any little apparent inconsistency in my ideas, as i really cannot help it. i belong to both parties, and i don't care a straw which wins; but i am sure we shall have fighting. men _must_ fight; or else what are they made for? twenty years ago, when i heard military men talking of "marching through new zealand with fifty men," i was called a fool because i said they could not do it with five hundred. now i am also thought foolish by civilians, because i say we can conquer new zealand with our present available means, if we set the right way about it (which we won't). so hurrah again for the maori! we shall drive the pakeha into the sea, and send the law after them! if we can do it, we are right; and if the pakeha beat us, _they_ will be right too. god save the queen! so now, my maori tribe, and also my pakeha countrymen, i shall conclude this book with good advice; and be sure you take notice: it is given to both parties. it is a sentence from the last speech of old "lizard skin." it is to you both. "be brave, that you may live." verbum sapienti. glossary. _a pakeha tutua_--a mean, _poor_ european.--p. . _bare motiti_--the island of motiti is often called "_motiti wahie kore_," as descriptive of the want of timber, or bareness of the island. a more fiercely contested battle, perhaps, was never fought than that on motiti, in which the ngati kuri were destroyed.--p. . _e aha te pai?_--what is the good (or use) of him? said in contempt.--p. . _haere mai! &c._--sufficiently explained as the native call of welcome. it is literally an invitation to advance.--p. . _hahunga_--a _hahunga_ was a funeral ceremony, at which the natives usually assembled in great numbers, and during which "baked meats" were disposed of with far less economy than hamlet gives us to suppose was observed "in denmark."--p. . _jacky-poto_--short jack; or stumpy jack.--p. . _kainga_--a native town, or village: their principal headquarters.--p. . _kia kotahi ki te ao! kia kotahi ki te po!_--a close translation would not give the meaning to the english reader. by these words the dying person is conjured to cling to life, but as they are never spoken until the person to whom they are addressed is actually expiring, they seemed to me to contain a horrid mockery, though to the native they no doubt appear the promptings of an affectionate and anxious solicitude. they are also supposed to contain a certain mystical meaning.--p. . _ki au te mataika_--i have the _mataika_. the first man killed in a battle was called the _mataika_. to kill the _mataika_. to kill the _mataika_, or first man, was counted a very high honour, and the most extraordinary exertions were made to obtain it. the writer once saw a young warrior, when rushing with his tribe against the enemy, rendered almost frantic by perceiving that another section of the tribe would, in spite of all his efforts, be engaged first, and gain the honour of killing the _mataika_. in this emergency he, as he rushed on, cut down with a furious blow of his tomahawk, a sapling which stood in his way, and gave the cry which claims the _mataika_. after the battle the circumstances of this question in maori chivalry having been fully considered by the elder warriors, it was decided that the sapling tree should, in this case, be held to be the true _mataika_, and that the young man who cut it down should always claim, without question, to have killed, or, as the natives say, "caught," the _mataika_ of that battle.--p. . _mana_--as the meaning of this word is explained in the course of the narrative, it is only necessary to say that in the sense in which it is used here, it means dominion or authority.--p. . _mere ponamu_--a native weapon made of a rare green stone, and much valued by the natives.--p. . _na! na! mate rawa!_--this is the battle cry by which a warrior proclaims, exultingly and tauntingly, the death of one of the enemy.--p. . _no hea_--literally, from whence? often used as a negative answer to an inquiry, in which case the words mean that the thing inquired for is not, or in fact is nowhere.--p. . _pakeha_--an englishman; a foreigner.--p. . _rangatira_--a chief, a gentleman, a warrior. _rangatira pakeha_--a foreigner who is a gentleman (not a _tutua_, or nobody, as described above), a _rich_ foreigner.--p. . _tangi_--a dirge, or song of lamentation for the dead. it was the custom for the mourners, when singing the _tangi_, to cut themselves severely on the face, breast, and arms, with sharp flints and shells, in token of their grief. this custom is still practised, though in a mitigated form. in past times, the mourners cut themselves dreadfully, and covered themselves with blood from head to feet. see a description of a _tangi_ further on.--p. . _taniwha_--a sea monster: more fully described further on.--p. . _taonga_--goods; property.--p. . _taua_--a war party; or war expedition.--p. . _tena koutou_; _or tenara ko koutou_--the maori form of salutation, equivalent to our "how do you do?"--p. . _tino tangata_--a "good man," in the language of the prize-ring; a warrior; or literally, a very, or perfect man.--p. . _toa_--a warrior of pre-eminent courage; a hero.--p. . _torere_--an unfathomable cave, or pit, in the rocky mountains, where the bones of the dead, after remaining a certain time in the first burying place, are removed to and thrown in, and so finally disposed of.--p. . _tu ngarahu_--this is a muster, or review, made to ascertain the numbers and condition of a native force; generally made before the starting of an expedition. it is, also, often held as a military spectacle, or exhibition, of the force of a tribe when they happen to be visited by strangers of importance: the war dance is gone through on these occasions, and speeches declaratory of war, or welcome, as the case may be, made to the visitors. the "review of the taniwha," witnessed by the ngati kuri, was possibly a herd of sea-lions, or sea-elephants; animals scarcely ever seen on the coast of that part of new zealand, and, therefore, from their strange and hideous appearance, at once set down as an army of taniwha. one man only was, at the defeat of the ngati kuri, on motiti, rescued to tell the tale.--p. . _tupara_--a double gun; an article, in the old times, valued by the natives above all other earthly riches.--p. . _tutua_--a low, worthless, and, above all, a _poor_, fellow--a "nobody."--p. . _utu_--revenge, or satisfaction; also payment.--p. . the end. london: smith, elder and co., little green arbour court, old bailey, e.c. produced from scans of public domain works at the national library of australia.) corporal tikitanu, v.c., by j. c. fussell (author of "letters from private henare tikitanu.") auckland: worthington & co., printers, albert street. . cover design by permission of proprietors auckland weekly news. [illustration: contents.] chap. page i. from elopement to enlistment ... ii. off to the war ... ... iii. the little french nurse ... ... iv. a chat with the nurse ... ... v. a letter to the kaiser ... ... vi. a prisoner ... ... ... vii. earning the v.c. ... ... viii. home again! ... ... _i._ from elopement to enlistment. the first time i remember catching sight of henare tikitanu was when he was acting as referee at a dog-fight in a maori village in the waikato district. [illustration] the dog-fight was no concern of mine. i was just riding past when my attention was drawn to henare. he was endeavouring to see fair play for both the combatants. he was very excited over the affair because another maori, named wiremu, was hampering one dog by pulling his tail. after fruitlessly yelling at wiremu for some time in classical maori, henare suddenly relapsed into pidgin-english, and fired this volley at him: "py cripes, you te ploomin' ole taurekareka,--tinkin' fish--all right. you no good for te fight. more better your ole woman drown you in te hot mud hole when you te piccanini. gar!" then they flew into each other's arms and settled it that way. the dogs looked up in surprise, retired to a safe distance, and watched the proceedings, giving an occasional bark of encouragement. henare won. he deserved to, for he was a clean fighter and a true sport. this event happened about two years before the great war broke out, when henare was eighteen. so it was not surprising that he should have been one of the first of the waikato tribe to volunteer for service at the front, when he had reached twenty-three. but he had his difficulties. you see he had a sweetheart named kiri, a fine maori maiden of twenty; and wiremu wanted her. henare and kiri had been sweethearts from early school-days, and they rather laughed at wiremu's aspirations. but if henare went to the war, it might be different. during their moonlight rambles along the banks of the dark and silent waikato river, henare and kiri talked the matter over. he said he would enlist if they could be secretly married first. he said he would feel more settled, and more disposed to fight, as his forefathers fought of old, inspired by the love and admiration of his wahine. [illustration] kiri was undecided. the war might be long; the distance to france was great; the dangers and risks were many. henare naively chaffed her by saying that he might pick up an american heiress away over in paris if she did not marry him before he enlisted. that settled it. before they left the shade of a beautiful pohutukawa one charming summer's evening they fixed the day and made their plans--talking to one another in soft and musical maori. "you will be true to your absent warrior as he fights beside his pakeha brothers, adding fresh glories to the honour of the noble maori race?" "yes, my brave tikitanu. your kiri will be with you in heart and spirit day and night until your return to the fair land which holds in its bosom the bodies of our noble heroes of days gone by." a few gentle and poetic words like these made them both feel rather sentimental and emotional, so they solemnly rubbed noses and went back to the kianga. these two dusky lovers decided on a secret marriage at ngaruawahia in a fortnight's time. kiri was to go by road to the place, and henare by train from mercer. the appointed day dawned bright and fine, and kiri arrived at ngaruawahia in proper style half-an-hour late. but there was no sign of henare. [illustration] as a matter of fact he did not turn up at all, for he got a bit excited at mercer, and as there were two trains standing end to end at the station he entered the wrong carriage and got out at pukekohe, about thirty or forty miles in the wrong direction. they met again in about two days' time, and after a good deal of both tender and violent maori talk, sprinkled with pidgin-english, the matter was patched up. however, they dropped the elopement idea, rubbed noses duly and canonically, and henare went off and enlisted as a soldier of the king. but he was anxious about his old enemy wiremu. _ii._ off to the war. the relatives of henare and kiri were very proud of henare in his new uniform, and they told him that he must prove himself worthy of the hand of kiri, the maori princess, and grand-daughter of a great warrior chief. henare looked at himself in the glass and felt that he was worthy of her, or any other princess, already. he did not want to seem too cheap, because there was wiremu to be reckoned with. he enjoyed the camp life, the drills and parades, and entered into soldiering with as much ease and good will, as if he had been born to it. the general opinion of the officers was that tiki (or "dickie" as they nick-named him) would give a good account of himself at the front. it was a great day in wellington when the first batch of maori volunteers embarked on the grey troopship. henare and his mates were bubbling over with fun and excitement. the cheering crowds of pakehas and maoris, the fluttering flags, and the cheerful music of the bands, made them all feel that they were off to a grand old picnic. they laughed and joked, and sang until they were hoarse. a few hours later, however, things did not look so bright. these maori lads had never been away from new zealand before, and it was sad to see their beloved land sinking out of sight into the deep blue ocean. when the last trace had disappeared, henare, leaning over the vessel's side, said to honi in a hoarse whisper: "my korry, noo zealan' all gone now." honi replied with affected cheerfulness: "nemine, he jump up again bimeby," and then walked away. all the boys tried to make out that they were not seasick, and poked themselves away into all sorts of nooks and corners to conceal the fact. henare thought that up in the rigging would be a good place, but they soon chased him out of that. he then leant over the taffrail and mused of home and kiri. a voyage to england in these days is eventful for anyone, but it was very much more so for the maori boys. when they had settled down to the routine of life on a troopship, they became keenly interested in it all and never had a "dull" day. the first port of call filled them with much excitement and gratification--and a thirst for further adventures. henare rather prided himself on his letter-writing, and seized every opportunity to exercise his "gift." he disdained to write in his native language, but preferred "te good englan' talk" even when writing to maoris. at the first port he posted several letters to friends in new zealand. one was to kiri and another was to wiremu. to kiri he wrote, among other things: "i no forget about you yet, t'that why i write t'this letter, tell you no forget me. more better you have te british soldier than te frightened bloke like wiremu stoppin' away from te fight. t'this ole troopship take us over te sea all right, and when te war all over he bring us back an' t'then i marry you pretty quick." to wiremu he wrote:-- "py cripes, you look out when i come back if you talk too much wid te kiri. she no belong to you. she my wahine all right. no good yer trick, you better come to te war; no stop home spoilin' te dog fight and try take another feller gel when him away in shermany. me te crack shot now so you look out." after a voyage of nine weeks without serious mishap the maoris landed in england "all well," and ready for the huns. [illustration] _iii._ the little french nurse. it was not very long before the maori boys, who had gone straight to old england, were drafted across to france, and they were soon in the thick of the great war, fighting for all they were worth. henare was well to the fore, and it was often remarked that he would soon distinguish himself or know the reason why. in fact, all the maori boys were as keen and fearless as any of their pakeha comrades, and made a deep impression on all the officers and men about them--and on the germans in front of them too! at every turn henare proved himself a wag, a wit, and a hero. he caused many a hearty laugh by his quaint comments on the anglo-french gibberish, and the churned up conditions of the country--"py korry t'this country like te kramble egg on tose." he called the mixed-up speech "te half-caste langwidge." but everyone was cheerful and witty on that battlefront--though sometimes there was a grim lull in the fun; just before a battle, and in the thick of it. the wittiest men fought the most desperately, but saved their wit for a pick-me-up afterwards. [illustration] during an awful fight over shell-holes and battered trenches, henare was too eager and daring, and the result was a bad wound in the chest by a fragment of shell. he was unconscious and bleeding profusely when picked up by the red cross men, so, after first aid, he was conveyed with all speed to the base hospital. he soon became delirious and was not expected to recover. one night about twelve o'clock he opened his eyes and glared at an attendant standing near his bunk. then, without a moment's warning, he sprang up and grabbed the attendant by the throat yelling at the top of his voice, "py hori, you bally ole nigger wiremu, i catch you t'this time." with some trouble he was put back to bed again, and relapsed into unconsciousness. [illustration] the next time he awoke, a pretty little french nurse, marie bouvard, was sitting by and watching him. she was just a slim little thing, more like a girl of seventeen than a woman of twenty-one. she was a born nurse, her very presence always did the sufferers good. her voice was soft and healing, her touch was gentle and sympathetic, and her footsteps were like the falling of the snow. when marie smiled she was at her best, for her solemn little face brightened up like a sudden burst of sunshine on the flowers. henare watched her calmly for some time without moving, then he closed his eyes, and the man in the next bed heard him murmur,-- "py ... korry, py ... korry, i tink i got to heaven at lars ... t'that the angel face all right ... you bet." * * * * * it is not surprising that under the care of a nurse like the little french marie, the maori hero gradually recovered. when he had reached a certain stage of recovery, he did not appear to be particularly anxious to progress any further. most of marie's patients felt like that. it meant parting with the charming little nurse, and they dreaded it. henare was no exception, though, be it said, kiri was never far from his thoughts. but marie simply fascinated him, and really the nurse herself became very much attached to the noble brown boy from england's far off maoriland. he had been such a splendid patient, and such a grand "case" too. as time went on, during henare's convalescence, he and marie became at least very good friends, and always enjoyed one another's company, and whatever conversation it was possible for them to have, with anglo-french and pidgin-maori as the medium. in the middle of this pretty romance, henare got a letter from kiri, and it had a steadying effect upon his emotions. for patriotic reasons it was written in pidgin-maori. partly it ran,-- "i hope you no get kill too quick yet. wiremu no good for me, he te shirker bloke. t'that why i want you come back without te shot. wiremu tell my mother all te parani gell want to marry te maori soldier. no you get up to that trick with me. good-bye, come back quick when you beat te sherman. i wait." kiri x x x x x [illustration] _iv._ a chat with the nurse. seated cosily in an easy chair, with marie near by at work on some bandages, henare was listening most attentively to her efforts to tell him some of the dreadful sufferings of france in the early days of the war. it took him all his time to make out what she said. the scene was a sadly busy one. there were several interruptions, many were coming and going all the time. fresh batches of broken and groaning men were being brought in every hour; and restored men were taking farewell of nurses and friends before returning to the slaughter. the cannon-boom could be distinctly heard day and night, but it disturbed no one at the hospital, for they had grown accustomed to it. all the while marie was talking, in the midst of this strange sad scene, the irregular punctuation kept on. boom--boom . . . . boom . . . . boom--boom--boom. with many a shrug of the shoulders, and many a shake of her pretty head, marie related to henare all she dared of the brutal and revolting conduct of the germans when first they swept over the border. she told him of the coarseness, the drunkenness, and the bullying of all ranks and grades of the invading huns. every now and again henare ground his teeth, and muttered "py cripes; i pay him out," and "te taipo, te bally taipo." when he heard as much as he could stand, he ventured the remark, "i tink the sherman soldier no hurt te gell and te woman, eh?" marie looked at him a moment, and then said, "what you say, m'sieur?" "i say te ole brute no hurt te wahine an' te piccanini--te woman an' te gell"--he answered slowly. "oh dear me," said marie in real surprise, "did you nefar read ze newspaper?" "oh, my korry," he replied, "i can't read te prenchy langwidge, all te word spell wrong, and te talk all silly." "no, no, no, m'sieur, ze french speech ees ze most beauteeful in all ze land." "werra, where te maori come in?" "ah!" "eh?" when left to himself the manly maori boy pictured up the whole scene as well as he could, and longed to get back to the trench--or over the parapet--to pay out the demons who had outraged marie's noble people. he was getting well unusually quickly, and though loth to leave the charmed spot, he felt that he would soon be fit to fight again. he was busy thinking out all kinds of plans for getting even with the huns; and he formed a mental picture of the kaiser which was not very complimentary to that potentate. henare saw him as a big villain with short, sharp horns above his ears, to match his upturned moustache; small wicked eyes, and a big mouth, with little tusks protruding. [illustration] this image was very vivid to henare's native imagination, and he muttered to himself, "py cripes, that him all right; he just want te cow feet and te monkey tail, then he te ole taipo, straight." * * * * * a week after his chat with the little french nurse, henare was passed as fit for service again. he had made many friends, both french and english, around the hospital; so on the day of his departure he hunted up each one and solemnly shook hands and said "good-bye." he came to marie last of all. she was standing just outside the big, sunlit doorway, watching the far off train of waggons slowly bringing in another batch of wounded men. her sweet little frenchy face looked dreadfully serious--but she turned round with that sunny smile of hers when henare spoke. he shuffled nervously, gave a funny little cough, that he ought to have been ashamed of as a "maori brave," then held out his hand and said, "so long, marie, i go back now. my korry, you make me get well too quick." she put her head picturesquely on one side, took hold of the brown hand held out to her, and said, "au revoir, henri; i hope you weel be vera safe." henare felt queer. sensations passed all over him that he had never known before. the impulse was to pick up this lovely french doll and run right away with it. but he pulled himself up and said, "py cripes, i better go, i tink," and he bolted. on the way back to the lines a new zealander was chaffing henare about marie, and asking him whether he was going to hand over kiri to wiremu. "no ploomin fear," he replied, "not me." "what about marie, then?" henare stopped short and said-- "i tell you bout that, mate. i like to have marie just for te pretty doll. she te beauty, py cripes, yeh. when she put te head on one side an smile, she mak me feel wery funny on te shest, t'that all!" _v._ a letter to the kaiser. "hey boss, what te name of t' place where te kaiser stop?" "potsdam." "eh? no fear! t'that te bally swear word." "no it's not, dicky; that's the place all right." "oh, py korry, i no like to put t'that on te letter; te gell in te post oppis might see him." the officer whom henare addressed laughed heartily, and said-- "your compunction is evidently due to the refining influence of nurse bouvard, eh?" "oh, go on, you got te rat," he replied. when he was quite convinced about the kaiser's address, henare proceeded to make use of his "gift" at letter-writing for an attack on him by post. to kaiser pilly, potdam. i been come all te way from noo zeelan to fight te sherman soldier in parani and make him clear outer t'this country. when i come here some feller been tell me all about t'that dirty trick all te sherman been up to in parani an peljimi. no good you say t'that all gammon, it te true talk all right. what te taipo you want to make te wery big fight for? more better you keep your ole sherman soldier in shermany--t'that te place for him. py cat, he not fit for go any more place--cept herra. i tink you te bally ole fool you tink you goin to beat englan. no good for you try t'that game. what about te maori? he not too many, but py korry he te beggar for the fight. what about te pritis navy? he chase every ploomin sherman ship off te sea; an keep te sherman navy in te wery safe place--friten to come out. what about te wery strong tank, an te wery quick harepeni flyin about everywhere? py cripes, you te wery bad ole man make all te fight for nothing. you goin to get lick bimeby. what te good of t'that silly bloke you got over there--te klown prince? he no good for te fight, only for te smoke an te peer. now, i tell you what we goin to do, straight. we goin to keep on t'this fight till all you sherman bloke plown up sky-high. you want ter fight te pritis; werra, py korry, you got ter fight to te finish up now. no time ter stop an spit on yer hands--got to keep on wid te war widout te holiday. no ploomin harmitis (armistice) for te pritis--we know t'that trick all right. if you had enough an want ter stop te bally fight, i tell yer what yer goterdo: clear out of parani an peljimi, an all te place where ye got no ploomin right to stop in; pay all te peoples for te house an te pretty church you been burn an break him down; give englan all t'that navy which he hidin away in te dark; an, t'then dont you try t'this dirty trick any more, or py cripes you get wipe off te map nex time. t'this letter no te humbug, he te true talk; you find that out bimeby all right. py cripes, you goin ter get it straight for the start this wery bad war. you better hurry up quick an get sorry, plenty more maori boy in noo zeelan gettin ready to come an fight. henare tikitanu. henare took great pains to write what he felt was a very convincing ultimatum--and, after much scratching out and altering, he sealed the letter and gave it to an airman to drop behind the german lines. the censor passed it with a merry laugh. [illustration] _vi._ a prisoner. it was a great relief to henare's troubled mind to get his letter to the kaiser written, and sent off by its famous postman; in his native simplicity he felt that he had dealt the german emperor a blow from which that old fritz would not quickly recover. he had told him as plainly as possible what a maori soldier thought of him, and that of course would affect the kaiser's "_morale_." the incident also got him talked about, until his resourcefulness and bravery came under the notice of the authorities, with the result that henare was made a corporal; which fact he duly mentioned in a postscript to some of his letters--with pardonable pride. he now became more zealous and daring than ever, making quite a business of the war. he was turning out to be one of the best soldiers in the british line; an encouragement and inspiration to all about him. but his zeal and daring often nearly cost him his life, and eventually cost him his liberty. it happened during a most unexpected gas attack. henare lingered too long, was overcome by the poisonous fumes, and was taken prisoner by the germans. he was not badly gassed, so when he recovered enough to walk about he wanted to fight one of the guards, but a london tommy restrained him. henare appeared to be the first maori prisoner captured by the germans, for they regarded him with a good deal of interest, which he resented with expressions that were wasted on his captors. he soon chummed up with his fellow-prisoner--the london tommy, who urged him to be less talkative, so as to avoid trouble. but, as henare could not indulge in his favourite pastime of "letter writing," he persisted in talking to tommy about the war. he told him wonderful stories about gigantic preparations on the british front, and about the inexhaustible resources of new zealand. several of the sentries understood english and henare was listened to with undisguised interest. then he was sent for, and taken between two guards to a german officer, who was very affable to henare, and asked him several kindly and interesting questions. had he quite recovered from his unfortunate "gassing"? did he get enough to eat? was it the kind of food the maoris were used to? and so on. after this the officer told the guards to withdraw twenty paces. he then smiled at henare and asked him, in broken english, whether he would like plenty of money and a certain amount of freedom during his stay in germany. henare grinned and said that would be "kapai." "vell, you shust tell me some leedle tings about der english." "all right, i know plenty ting about him. what yer want ter know?" "ah! dot is goot! now tell me how much damage der german bombs do on london." "wery bad, wery bad. him brake down te shop, te church, te school, and te piccanini." "och! anyting else?" "yeh; kill te plenty ole woman too; my word yeh, te zepp wery bad for ole englan." "haf england got much food?" "not too many; only butter from noo zeelan." the officer made a note of that, as a most significant fact. he then asked: "how many soldiers vos coming from new zealand efery mont?" "oh, tousan an tousan. not enuf ship yet to bring him all." "how many maoris vos der bein trained?" "oh, bout two million, i tink." "gott in himmel! are dey as big as you?" henare grinned and said: "oh, te maori bigger 'n me. me te little bloke, all right. no room for te big maori on te ole troopship i came in." the german looked thoughtful, and a bit suspicious. "are you telling me der truth?" henare fixed his soft brown eyes on the small blue-grey eyes of his questioner, and said, with well-feigned indignation: "oh, py korry, me te sunday school poy; what for you tink me tell a lie?" "vell, i will ask you von more question: "vat do all dose big maoris feed on?" "oh, te pakeha no let te maori eat up te prisoner now, so he eat te poaka." "vat is der poaka?" "te pig, te sher----, i mean te noo zeelan pig. but te maori like te prisoner more better." although the german officer was not at all satisfied with the result of his enquiries, he made up his mind to treat henare well, with the object of getting all the information possible from him. _vii._ earning the v.c. with their usual lack of humour, the germans fondly imagined that they would yet be able to get some valuable information out of the "unsuspecting" native of new zealand; for he seemed so agreeable and talkative! little did those self-conceited teutons understand the maoris! this being so, henare was allowed a certain amount of liberty to ramble about within a given area--well behind the lines. two weeks after his capture a most astounding thing happened--as if it had been long cut and dried. during a semi-bright moonlight night a british plane made its appearance over the camp, and was being duly shelled. presently it wavered like a wounded bird, then rapidly descended to a spare piece of ground near where henare rambled. hurrying towards it he found that it was not "wounded," but had alighted for a minor but necessary adjustment. as henare approached, the airman drew his revolver, but the maori threw up his arms and cried out: "hey! don't shoot! me te pritis prisoner." [illustration] "be the saints," came the reply, "yez don't look much like a prisoner! phat the mischief are yez doing here?" "py korry, you better hurry up--all te sherman looking for you. i tink you better take me up in te sky, too. i can ride." with that they both jumped into the plane, fixed the straps, and flew away. only just in time, however, for bullets and shells soon began once more to liven things up. the plane dived, and swooped, and looped the loop until henare thought his woolly head would drop off. they then had a safe run for an hour, but just as the aeroplane was crossing the german lines she was winged and had to descend in no-man's-land. enemy searchlights soon discovered where they landed, and shells started to dance and sing all around them. the two men left the machine just before it was blown to pieces. they hid for awhile in a crater, until the welcome sound of a tank was heard. presently she was seen lumbering along in the moonlight. henare and the irish airman made for her with all haste, waving their caps. the tank lurched towards them suspectingly, and then came to a standstill. [illustration] when the back door opened a voice called out: "weel naw, an' who might ye be?" the irishman answered: "we're just lookin' for a bhuss to carry us back to the loines." "this wee cabby is no takin' passengers, but maybe ye can squeeze in--for its rough walkin' here." they had not travelled--or lumbered--far when the old tank tumbled headfirst into a deep shell-hole. with difficulty they all crawled out and had a good look at the undignified position of h.m.l.s. with her nose fast in the mud. each one of them said a few simple words suitable to the occasion. henare's contribution was--"py cripes! she can buck worse'n te wild maori hoss." there was nothing for it now but to walk. the enemy shelling became so fierce that the wanderers separated and dodged along--each man for himself--hiding here and there, and sheltering from time to time in large craters. dead and dying men were lying about in all directions--giving evidence of recent heavy fighting. when henare realized this, he forgot his own danger and set to work carrying wounded men--british and german--to the shelter of a crater. [illustration] searchlights were on him nearly all the time, while bullets whistled past him and shells ploughed up the ground. he still pegged away at his noble work, until a bullet found him as he was bringing in his twentieth man--an english captain. he had just managed to roll into the crater with his burden and then collapsed. the red cross picked them all up the next afternoon. henare was in the hospital when he came to. he was staring wildly at the man in the next cot--a big, brown man, bandaged, but grinning away cheerfully. [illustration] yes! it was wiremu all right. he had finally enlisted and the military training had made a man of him. in a desperate battle wiremu was badly wounded, and was one of the first men that henare had carried to the crater. when henare had got over the shock of meeting wiremu, he asked after kiri. "oh, she all right henare, when i left noo zealan. she no forget you. she te brick." and so, far into the night, the gentle murmur of musical maori was heard as these two wounded heroes discussed the war, and old time quarrels, and kiri's loyalty to henare, and also the good times they themselves would have together in new zealand, when the war was won. [illustration] _viii._ home again! it was a very happy maori soldier who was in london a month later, preparing to go before the king and receive the noble and much-coveted badge of v.c. when henare left the kindly french hospital, wiremu was getting over his wound,--more quickly than he wished, for he had completely fallen in love with nurse marie, and was using all the arts and devices known to the civilized maori, to win the affections of that charming little angel of mercy. as for henare himself, he was not again passed for active service, but received orders to return to new zealand, after he had obtained the highest badge of honour at the hands of the king. on the day fixed for the ceremony he was all excitement. he put his things on wrong, and had to take them off again; lost belongings, and wanted to fight those that he suspected of taking them. but the most confusing time was when they were telling him how to behave at the ceremony and in the presence of his majesty. he couldn't remember for five minutes what he had to say and do. at last he said to the officer instructing him-- "py korry, mate, i gettin' too shaky. more better you get te wikitoria cross an bring him to me--an i get home quick." "that would never do, my boy; half the honour is having the medal pinned on by the king himself." "my wurra, i tink you right. we better go now; king hori he get too tire waitin' for us." though still weak, henare had lost all his nervousness when they arrived at buckingham palace grounds. he watched everything with the keenest interest, and did not hesitate to quaintly express his opinion about anything that took his fancy. [illustration] the officers felt a bit anxious when henare showed signs of talkativeness as the king was pinning the v.c. on his breast, but they could see by his majesty's pleasant smile that no harm was being done. no one could help smiling when henare remarked to the king-- "py cripes, you got te wery fine whare here." anyhow, the impressive ceremony passed off without a hitch, and corporal tikitanu, v.c., looked every inch a british soldier and hero--admired of all. the very next thing to be considered was "new zealand" with all speed. * * * * * at last, after an absence of nearly twelve months, into which were crammed the experiences and feelings of years, the maori brave returned to his native land, bringing with him the fame and the honours he had so nobly won. the wildest enthusiasm prevailed at the reception in henare's native village. maori and pakeha customs and phrases followed one another in quick succession in the eager desire to express a joyous welcome. "haeremai's" were shouted at the returned soldier boy from every quarter of the crowd; vigorous nose rubbing threatened to become serious, until it was relieved by the more european ceremony of carrying the hero shoulder high through the excited crowd. when they reached a flag-bedecked platform, maori orators poured forth a flood of poetic welcome, until the women broke down and wailed their solemn tangi. as henare stood up to reply the ground shook with the hakas and feet stamping. it was a real ovation that the loyal brown-boy received. for the sake of the distinguished pakehas present, henare spoke in pidgin-english. he had often heard about the great lord kitchener, so he began by saying: "te pritis soldier no talk too much. he te man of the do things, not t'talk it. t'that why i no got too much for te speech." he then thanked them all very warmly for the kind and unexpected welcome they had tendered him, and concluded with this: "any bloke here want te nice soft job, no good for him go to te sherman war; more better him stop home wid te mudder. but if all you big fat feller want to be te man and te decent bloke, get outer noo zeelan quick and help all your mate lick up te sherman." [illustration] kiri, his faithful maori maiden, was foremost among those who welcomed him home; and the rev. honi maki celebrated their happy wedding a week later. bearing on his body the honourable scars of war, and on his breast the king's acknowledgment of his bravery and loyalty, henare spent his days going in and out among the waikatos and neighbouring tribes, telling them thrilling tales of britain's might and honour; and showing them the terrible need there is for pakeha and maori alike to do and dare--for the sake of britannia, the friend of justice and liberty. [illustration] worthington & co., printers, albert street, auckland-- "letters from private henare tikitanu." by j. c. fussell. [illustration: press opinions] "a very humorous account of the experiences and impressions of a typical maori soldier on the long journey from new zealand to france." --n.z. herald. * * * * * "if you can't raise a smile for private henare there is a fissure somewhere in your diaphragm."... "it is a quaint and appropriate greeting to send to friends across the seas." --the sun, christchurch. * * * * * "the booklet will have a large and ready sale because of its decided merit and originality." * * * * * "they are splendid, and just the thing for sending to the trenches." * * * * * "the letters of the maori soldier, as he sees active service." [illustration: price: one shilling] transcriber notes: passages in italics were indicated by _underscores_. small caps were replaced with all caps. throughout the dialogues, there were words used to mimic accents of the speakers. those words were retained as-is. the illustrations have been moved so that they do not break up paragraphs. errors in punctuations and inconsistent hyphenation were not corrected unless otherwise noted. on page , "villian" was replaced with "villain". on page , "her's" was replaced with "hers". on page , "h.m. l.s." was replaced with "h.m.l.s.". _camp fire yarns of the lost legion_ [illustration] [illustration: t. f. kynnersley, esq., of leighton, salop, d.l., j.p., and late captain and s.o. lonsdale's horse.] camp fire yarns of the lost legion by colonel g. hamilton-browne "maori browne" late commandant in colonial forces author of "with the lost legion in new zealand" "a lost legionary in south africa" london t. werner laurie ltd. clifford's inn this skein of yarns is dedicated to my old friend and comrade in arms during - - thomas f. kynnersley of leighton, co. salop d.l., j.p. and late capt. and staff officer in lonsdale's horse whose fondness for a good story is as keen now as it was in the days of yore when in bivouac or camp we used to spin them preface in introducing these yarns let me state that now i am laid up on the shelf my thoughts go back to those days and nights of the veld and bush, and i frequently feel i would give all the rest of the map if i could again find myself on the open lands of the frontier with a good horse between my knees and a few score of the old boys behind me. now i hold pen instead of carbine and revolver, but why should memories of the old days pass away? let me fancy i sit by the camp fire again, telling yarns as we used to under the dark blue skies and blazing stars of south africa. let me spin you some yarns of the lost legion. contents part i chapter page i. the maori as i knew him ii. how matene failed to convert the lower wanganui iii. how a scout won the new zealand cross iv. a hau hau martyr v. a brush with bushrangers vi. the scout that failed vii. some miraculous escapes i have known viii. a tough swim in bad company ix. held up by a bushranger x. on the scout in new zealand xi. the colonel's fiery tot xii. lost in the new zealand bush xiii. the trooper's regard for his trust and horse xiv. a gruesome flute xv. the doctor and the sentry xvi. how kiwi saved his clothes and the governor lost his dinner xvii. a south sea bubble part ii i. the dÉbut of the lost legion in natal ii. a queer card iii. a conversion that failed iv. jack ashore in v. the conversion of mike o'leary vi. bushed vii. the non-com.'s revenge list of illustrations t. f. kynnersley of leighton salop, capt. and s.o. of l.h., _frontispiece_ rewi fighting chief of the waikatos _to face page_ gateway to maori kianga " a maori girl " yarn spinning in south africa " te tarata, the white terrace, rotomahana " the conversion of mike o'leary " the neglected soldier fame is but a fleeting shadow, glory but an empty name; spite of all that i have gone through, 'tis, i find, a losing game: without interest, without money, nothing can a soldier gain; though he be the sole survivor of a host of comrades slain: what avail these glitt'ring honours, which a queen laid on my breast; though i've sought them from my childhood, would i'd fallen with the rest: then my heart had not been broken life had fled without a sigh; hunger presses--i am fainting-- ought a soldier thus to die? the old shekarry. camp-fire yarns of the lost legion part i chapter i the maori as i knew him camped in a london flat, sick of the turmoil, rows and worries of the big city, with its pushing, hurrying and ill-mannered crowds, can it be wondered at that i let my thoughts often wander far away to the days of my early manhood, when i passed over ten years in the dense and silent, though beautiful, bush of new zealand, or rode across the wild, open and breezy plains of its inland plateaus? during this time i had ample opportunities for observing and studying the natives, both in war and peace: in the former especially, as i not only fought against them, but i also fought side by side with the brothers, cousins and quondam friends of the very men we were engaged against. queer, very queer, people they were, and, to describe them in a few words, i should pronounce them to be bundles of contradictions, whose faults made them hateful, but whose many good qualities rendered them one of the most charming race of people it has ever been my lot to meet. they have been described by numerous writers far more capable than myself, and whose pens are far more graphic than my own, but yet perhaps a few traits in their many-sided characters, that i have experienced myself, may interest you. to begin with, let me speak of their courage, which was displayed in such a marked degree during the long wars that lasted from to , for the whole of which period the maoris were hopelessly outnumbered and, as far as armament went, were equally outclassed. yet these brave fellows fought on and on, and even when the end came, and the shattered remnants of the so-called rebels took refuge in the king country, the new zealand government, fearing to risk further war with the powerful waikato tribes, resorted to what was called the blanket-and-sugar policy, rather than follow te kooti or demand his extradition from king tawhiao, who at that time was just as independent of english rule as france was. the first fighting took place in , and soon general sir duncan cameron had over imperial troops under his command, as well as an equal number of colonial militia and irregulars, and also a powerful naval brigade. he had also a strong force of artillery, and was well supplied with ammunition and stores of all kinds. yet perhaps you will scarcely credit me when i tell you that never at any single moment had he more than natives in arms against him, and that he was never opposed in any single action by even men. it must be borne in mind that sir duncan's force was one of the most powerful that england, up to that time, without the assistance of allies, had ever put into the field; that the men who composed it were all of them good, seasoned men, many of them being veterans of the crimea and mutiny; that the militia were highly trained, most of them old soldiers, under the command of ex-imperial officers; that the irregulars proved themselves to be second to none in the field, and that the natives only possessed old muskets and fowling-pieces. now these numbers are staggering, but absolutely correct, as it is also that the above force made but small headway against this handful of savages; for although sir duncan forced his way into the waikato and held a chain of forts there, yet on the west coast, especially in the districts of taranaki and wanganui, the settlers had to abandon their homesteads, the women and children being sent for safety to the south island, and no man's life was safe beyond rifle range of the forts. this was the state of new zealand in , after six years of incessant war, and it can only be accounted for in the following way:-- to commence, the general and his officers were hidebound with the old traditions and maxims of the british army. they simply would not or could not adapt themselves to the exigencies or tactics of irregular warfare, nor could they be made to understand or believe that a regiment that could march in line like a brick wall might easily be worsted by a mob of savages in a new zealand bush. then again when attacking pahs: the general considered that the correct way to do so was, after a sharp bombardment, to rush the place with the bayonet. who could imagine for a moment that natives could hold their flimsy stockades against men who had stormed the redan and taken delhi at the point of the bayonet. yet they did. rangiriri was assaulted three times, and on each occasion, notwithstanding the splendid devotion and courage of our gallant tommies, they were driven back with great loss. yet on the following day the defenders marched out and laid down their arms. why? for three days they had been without one drop of water. the general knew they had no water, then why did he risk the lives of his splendid men by ordering futile assaults? rangiriri took place in november , and one would have thought that the general might have learned something, by its lesson, of the ways how best to deal with a maori pah; but he had neglected to do so, for in april, the following year, he invested orakau pah, the defenders of which exhibited gallantry seldom equalled and never surpassed in all the annals of human warfare. let me try and give you a brief account, as i heard it some years afterwards from the mouth of one of its defenders: "listen, te parione, i will tell you how i first saw white men and fought against them. it was at orakau, in the land of the waikato tribes, and the fight happened in this manner: "we of the taupo tribes must pay a visit of ceremony to the chiefs and people of the waikatos, and at the same time the uriwera people wished to do the same. our intention was to discuss many things with the waikatos, and to hold a big runanga (deliberation) concerning the war. we journeyed there, although we knew much war was going on, and we were most anxious to hear about and see something of this war, so that we could judge for ourselves the might and fighting customs of the white men. it was necessary for us to do this, as at that time we knew but little of the white man, or the war customs of the soldiers; and as we might have to fight them later on, it was well for us to know their manners in war. we travelled together, in two parties, as our love is not great for the uriwera, and reached the land of the waikatos. these could give us but a short tangi (reception ceremony), as the war was hot in the land and the people much engaged in fighting; but they gave us the orakau pah to dwell in, until such time as the runanga could be held. some chiefs of the waikatos also stayed with us in the pah, as hosts, and food was sent us daily, our women, some forty in number, having to fetch water from a distance, as there was none close to the pah. "we heard daily of the advance of the white men, and we hoped to see them, but did not go near them. it would not have been right to do so: we were on a visit of ceremony, we had no anger against them, and no cause to fight with them. "one day we heard they were quite near, and our hearts were glad, as perhaps we should get our desire and gaze on them. next day they came in sight, long columns of them, each man in his place. and it was good to look at them. they were in great numbers. we had never seen so many men at one time, and our hearts grew dark within us at their might and order. instead of passing on their way as we expected, some of them turned to the right and some moved to our left, until we were quite surrounded; and when they were all placed they stood still and remained quiet. we were surprised and in great wonder; nor could we understand the meaning of this, until there came to us, as herald, the mouth (interpreter) of their war chief, who told us, in the name of the great white queen, to give up the pah, lay down our arms, and render ourselves prisoners to the white men. our head chief told him that we could not do this, that we were not there to fight against the white man, but that we were taupo and uriwera maoris, that we were on a visit of ceremony to the waikatos, and that we had no anger or cause against the soldiers. but the white chief was mad, and sent the mouth again, saying we must give up the pah to him or he would attack us. "our hearts were very dark with fear at the might and number of the soldiers, and we discussed the situation. how could we give up the pah? had not the waikatos lent us their pah to live in? and were we not responsible for the honour of it? how could we give it up? no, we must guard the pah with our lives, or our disgrace would resound through the land and our shame live for ever. we had no wish to fight the soldiers, but we must. now the white man is not ceremonious, for he gave us no time to dress for war, dance the war-dance, nor even to utter our war-cries; for as soon as the herald returned to his chief we saw a taua (war party) leave their army and come straight for the outer fence, and we had to hasten, so as to get into the trench and flanking angles. "very great is the courage of the soldiers, but great is their folly; for this taua moved all in a body, close together, with a young chief walking in front of them with his sword in his hand. soon they came near, and the young chief raised his sword and shouted. the taua at once rushed at us, all of them shouting loud. "our hearts were dark with fear, for the anger of the white man was very great. rewi (a great fighting chief of the waikatos') had told us before to harden ourselves against the anger and shouts of the white men, and had given us orders not to fire until he gave the signal, then all to fire at one time. when the taua was within six fathoms of us he gave the signal, and our fire darted out from under the fence. many of the white men fell, but the rest rushed on, some of them trying to pull down the fence with their hands, others firing through it with their guns, and some thrusting at us with their bayonets. none of them seemed to fear death, though they fell fast. we now fired our second barrels, reloading as fast as we could, the women helping us, the men in the flanking angles also firing, so that the smoke rose in clouds, and the sky resounded with the shouting of the white men and our war-cries. all fear had fallen away from us, and we now saw that the great white chief was ceremonious, as he had only sent such a number of men as we could cope with, all his other men remaining where they had first stopped and not interfering with us. but it was otherwise with the men with whom we were fighting, as they swore at us and called us many bad names. and this was wrong, and filled us with wonder, as we had done them no evil. but perhaps it is the custom of the soldiers to do so. "the fight had lasted but a short time. i had loaded my tupara (double-barrelled gun) twice when a bugle called out, and the soldiers, leaving us, went back. no, they did not run away, they went slowly, looking back at us as if sorry to leave the fight and taking their wounded men with them. "we were greatly elated that we had saved the pah, and thought that now the white men, having no cause of war against us, and having done all that was necessary for both their own honour and ours, would pass on their way, leaving us in peace. "it was also near the time for our evening meal. the waikato women had not, according to their custom, brought us any provisions that day, this having been delayed, we thought, on account of the fight. but as that was now over, there could be no further cause for their not coming, and if our women were to fetch water, it would be ready for the food when it presently arrived. "our women left the pah for this purpose, and had been gone but a short time when they returned and told us that the soldiers would not allow them to pass, and that, on their insisting on doing so, telling the interpreter that there was no water or food in the pah and that they must get some, the mouth had told them that the big chief had given orders that no food or water should be carried into the pah and that if they passed through the soldiers they would be prevented from coming back. so they had returned. "this news filled us with wonder. surely the white chief must be mad. enough fighting had been done for the honour of ourselves and the soldiers. even should he require more, how could he expect our hearts to be strong and for us to be able to fight well if he was to stop us obtaining food and water? it was folly. no man can fight as he should do when he is weak and famished. he had very many men. there had not been maoris, including women, in the pah from the beginning, and some of us had been killed and wounded; so we felt bitter towards the white chief, for our thirst with fighting, shouting and the powder smoke, was great. "next morning we saw many more soldiers had arrived, bringing with them several big guns, and the herald again approached us. this time he told us that if we would not render up the pah the big guns would fire on us. he also said we should have no food or water. to this rewi made answer: 'we will not render up the pah and our honour. enough, we will fight right on for ever.' and we all shouted, 'aké, aké, aké' (for ever, for ever, for ever). "then the white chief sent word: 'save your women, let them come out, they shall pass in safety and honour through the soldiers.' "but the women refused, and rewi answered: 'the women will fight with us.' "no sooner had the herald left us than the big guns began to shoot, also some short, fat guns (cohorns) that threw iron balls up into the air, so that they dropped inside the pah. and these balls, being filled with powder, burst, inside the pah, with great noise, and pieces of iron flew all around, while a great number of soldiers, drawing near, began to fire at the pah, so that soon the whole place was filled with dust and confusion, while the air was torn with the shrieking of the pieces of iron and the whistling of bullets. we were stricken with fear, and were glad to take refuge in the underground houses of the waikatos. and now we understood their reason for building these, and our fear soon left us, when we discovered that all this noise and trouble did us no harm. after this had gone on some time, rewi called to us that a taua was getting ready to attack us, and ordered us to make ready for it. and just then the fire from the big guns ceased, so as to enable us to do so. "this was quite right, for, if they had continued to fire, we could not have left the underground houses, and then should not have had time to get into the trenches to welcome the soldiers. this made us think better of the white chief, who, we now saw, was most ceremonious, as he again only sent as many men against us as we could contend with on equal terms. and in all things, except the matter of food and water, he proved himself to be a great and wise war chief. "the hapu (tribe) of soldiers sent against us this time was not the same tribe as that which had attacked us previously, as they wore another number on their head-dress. and this was as it should be, for the chief had many different tribes in his army, and each of these must be given a chance of honour. but he must have been blind in his great folly, as if he wished to send all his tribes, each in its turn, against us, at the same time refusing us food and water, how could he expect us to keep our hearts strong, so as to be able to resist in a befitting manner those whose turn came later on? then again our powder would fail. but this he had provided against, as i will tell you shortly. "now this new taua acted just the same as the other had done. they all moved in a body, and when the chief, who walked in front, raised his weapon they all ran forward to try and tear down the outer fence. some of them had also brought with them large tomahawks with which to cut it down, and rewi called to us to use our second shots on these men. shouting loudly, the taua charged at us, and when they reached within six fathoms of us our fire rushed to meet them. many of them fell, and those who reached the fence failed to break in, though they did all that brave men could do. the men with the tomahawks were soon shot down, and the fight waxed very hot, although our war-cries were small, our thirst being very great. "soon the bugle again called, and the white men went back slowly and in great anger, some of them shaking their hands at us and swearing loudly. but this we did not heed greatly, as we had decided, among ourselves, that this was their custom and that they did so with no intent to insult us, who had done them no wrong. "soon the big guns began to shoot again: this time at the pekaranga (outer fence), so as to try and break it down. but the fence was made of very many slender manuka poles, lashed firmly to many cross-pieces, these being made fast to stout posts set firmly in the ground, the lower part of the fence being just clear of the ground, so that we could fire under it from the trench that was just behind it. and behind this trench, in which we stood, were the earthworks and heavy palisading of the pah. "now the outer fence being composed in this way, the shot from the big guns only broke one or at the most two sticks of the fence, and then buried themselves in the earth. this did but little harm to us, as the holes made in the fence could be easily repaired and were not nearly large enough for a soldier to pass through. the short, fat guns also began to throw their balls into the pah. but as long as we remained in the underground houses these did us no harm. and it was by them the white chief showed his wisdom, insomuch as he employed these balls to furnish us with powder, so as to enable us to continue fighting, as we quickly discovered that very many of these balls did not burst and from them we extracted very many charges of powder. all these big guns fired with great fury at us for some time, and then ceased, so as to give us the opportunity of getting into the trenches to receive another taua. "this came in the same manner as the previous ones, and went back as they did, not being able to break through the fence, and losing many men. "all the rest of that day the big guns continued to shoot at us and the soldiers to fire into the pah, while we suffered much from the want of food and water. "that evening the mouth came to us again with word from the chief to render the pah and ourselves to him. "this we again refused to do. true, we had fought enough to save the honour of the pah, and we should have left it before, had we been able to do so; but we were, on all sides, surrounded by soldiers, so could not escape. and if we rendered ourselves up as prisoners, we, who were, with but few exceptions, all well-born rangitera (gentlemen), would lose caste and become slaves. therefore we must fight for ever, even if we should have to die from thirst. all that evening, and also at intervals during the night, the big guns fired at us; and we had to take the time between these to lick with our tongues the dew that fell from the sky, so as to try and cool our parched throats, as by now our thirst was very great. "we could get no rest that night, as the white men frequently fired these powder-filled balls into the pah. and we discovered another reason for their use: one being to bring us powder, the other to keep us awake, so as to be ready to resist an attack should the chief desire one to be made. we had thought, at first, they had been intended to kill and injure us, but as they had hurt no one, we now understood their proper use. and we again wondered at a chief who, being so wise in some matters, should be so foolish as to keep us without food and water, as he still had many more tribes to send to fight us. "next morning we saw that the white men had dug, during the night, many rifle pits, and had begun to dig trenches, so as to be able to approach us closely, without our being able to fire at them. escape we had deemed impossible before, but when the mouth came to call us to render ourselves prisoners, we again cried, as loud as our thirst allowed us: 'we fight on; aké, aké, aké.' "that day the big guns fired frequently, and tauas attacked us twice, always in the same manner as i have already told you; but the last taua were very full of anger, and the bugle had to call twice before they left us. "the soldiers also kept on digging their trenches, and kept on firing both from big guns and muskets. "during the night we again tried to quench our thirst with the dew, for we were getting weak and suffering greatly; and rewi with the rest of us chiefs consulted as to what we should do, for we saw that by the next evening the soldiers would have dug their trenches up to the outer fence and that the pah must fall. these were the words of rewi, and we all agreed with them: "'o ye chiefs of taupo and uriwera, we have done all that brave men can do. we have saved the honour of the pah, we must now look to ourselves. the soldiers will enter the pah to-morrow, and we, through the folly of the white chief, will be too weak from famine and thirst to resist them. it is unbecoming that we, who are gentlemen, should render ourselves prisoners; therefore only one thing remains for us to do. we must charge the enemy and try to escape by breaking through them. perchance some of us will succeed, the remainder must die as it befits warriors to die.' "he then told us his plan. 'at midday the soldiers take their meal, leaving only guards in the trenches. we will leave the pah quietly in a body and rush those who are behind the bank--that is, in front of the gate--and we will break through them there. they will be eating. perchance we may find them unprepared.' to this we all agreed, each man determining to escape or die. "next morning we saw the trenches had approached us closely, and so near were they that the soldiers were able to throw great numbers of small balls filled with powder into our trench and the pah itself. these balls burst on reaching us, and were thrown by the hands of the soldiers themselves, not by the big guns, though these also kept firing all the time, and we saw before night came again the pah must fall. "no taua attacked us this morning, as they wished the big guns to break down our defences, as much as possible, before they again assailed us. the sun reached its height and the firing somewhat ceased. rewi said the time was come, and we gathered together at the gate of the pah, all the women being with us. yes, it was certainly the time for the soldiers' meal, and we, who had neither eaten nor drunk for more than three days, tried to laugh when we thought how we were shortly to disturb their eating it. "now, parion, so that you may understand fully how these matters took place, i must tell you that about fathoms from the gate of the pah was a bank, behind which were one of the tribes of soldiers, who bore the number on their head-coverings. this bank had not been dug by them but was natural. it was not a high bank, and it sloped towards us, but was steeper on the other side and afforded the soldiers good protection from such of us as possessed rifles. there had been no trenches dug on this side of the pah, as the ground was hard and rocky, so there was nothing between us and this bank. when we were all ready the gate of the pah was removed, and we all rushed out, but without noise, and ran as fast as we could for the bank; and we had crossed more than half the distance before the soldiers seemed to notice us, as the smoke and dust lay heavy on the pah and around the spots from which the big guns fired. then we were seen, and immediately many bugles gave their calls. there was much shouting, and many soldiers in the trenches jumped out and fired at us, many others running to take their allotted places. there was much confusion. we, however, ran steadily on, turning neither to our right nor our left; nor did we return the fire. we soon came to the bank, and as we ran up the slope we could see the soldiers rising from the ground, on which they were eating, and who, when they saw us running towards them, ran to the bank, fixing their bayonets on their guns. only a few had time to fire at us before we were on them, and with our rush we jumped from the top of the bank right over their heads. some of them thrust bayonets at us, but as they were in confusion we broke through them, or jumped over them, without trouble, only very few of us falling here, and continued to run towards the hills that were not far off. we should have reached these, and most of us would have escaped, but all at once we were cut off and attacked by other men, not soldiers, some of them mounted (colonial irregulars). these men do not have the fine appearance of soldiers, but know more about war, and are greatly to be feared; for they did not wait to get each man into his right place, but attacked us each man as he could, and being, moreover, good fighting men, they killed many of us and delayed us so much that the soldiers, having had time to regulate themselves, reached the hill almost as soon as we did. they were in great numbers and fired heavily on us as we struggled up the hills, all of us so weak that we could scarcely surmount them. the big guns also fired at us, but the horses could not follow us, and so of us escaped, rewi and myself being among these, the remainder dying as it became them. very many of us, however, were wounded; and i must not omit to tell you that thirty of the others who did not escape, through being wounded severely, were taken by the soldiers. these the soldiers treated with honour; nor did they make them slaves or kill them, but conveyed them carefully to big tents, where their wounds were made whole, and they were attended with much care. the women, of whom some were taken, were also treated with honour. but this was the custom of the soldiers once the fighting was finished. they bore no anger towards the maori prisoners, but brought them much tobacco and waipero (rum) to show their good will and appreciation for the trouble the maoris had taken to fight them five times. but on the medicine men learning of this good will on the part of the soldiers, they were angry, and drove them away; which i myself consider to be wrong. but perchance it is the custom of the medicine men. "and now, te parione, i desire your explanation on some matters; for my heart is darkened with indecision as to the reasons the great white chief had in carrying the war on against us in the manner he did. you, who are a fighting man, belonging to the tribes of soldiers, for i have been told your ancestors have all been chiefs among these tribes, may be able to clear my mind on these matters. i will place my ideas before you, then you can make my mind light. "first, why did the chief attack us? we were on a visit of ceremony, not of war. yet he, having a big army, and the waikatos at the time avoiding him, must find war for his men. in so much he was right, and that i understand. again, he showed great knowledge of war, by only sending small bodies of men against us, he having so many that we should have been crushed at once had he sent them all at the same time. he also showed his great wisdom by sending us powder in the iron balls, which also kept us awake at night, so that we might be ready in case he attacked us. but as he did not attack us during the night, it was folly, as a fighting man needs rest. that he did not want to kill us we know, or he would not have made whole the wounded men. again, he could not have wanted the pah itself, to dwell in, or he would not have tried to destroy it with his big guns. and he knew we had no food or water, so must all perish from thirst, in a few days, when he could gain the pah without losing any men at all. he could not want our arms, as his men do not use double-barrelled guns, and if he took them from us we should have been unable to fight him, in case he saw fit to come to taupo from the waikato, seeking war. no, he must have wanted to let each of his tribes enjoy the honour of fighting us in their proper turn. but then why, o te parione, did he forbid us food and water? how could he expect us to render full justice to his men when our great thirst even prevented us from crying our war-cries, or fighting in such a manner as would confer honour on his men whose turn came late. as it was, we could only manage to hold out long enough to fight five of his tribes: and he had many. "and now, te parione, the night grows old, and i have talked much. thinking of orakau excites my thirst and the rum bottle is empty. at daylight you go to shoot ducks, and it is needful to sleep. think over what i have asked you, and to-morrow night, when we talk once again on war, you will be able to set my mind at rest on these matters. war is a great art, and we are never too old to acquire wisdom. perchance that white chief had reasons that, if i understood, would exalt my name should i practise them when we fight again. till then, my guest, rest in peace." the above yarn is greatly epitomised, as my old host not only described most of the blows struck during the fight, but also gave me the roll-call of the maoris, and most of their pedigrees. a maori considers it to be a waste of words not to describe minutely every circumstance of an event, and by doing so differs from our ideas of yarn-spinning, as we consider brevity to be the soul of wit. nor did the brave old warrior lay claim to any special merit that his band of men, armed with old fowling-pieces and muskets, should have resisted the attack of over british troops, should have repulsed five desperate assaults, and for three days have braved the fire of a powerful train of artillery, while at the same time undergoing the torture of thirst. surely their heroic answer to the general's summons to surrender, "ka whawhai tonu, aké, aké, aké" (we fight right on, for ever, for ever, for ever), is worthy of a place among the mottoes of the proudest regiments the world has ever contained. as for their desperate and somewhat successful attempt to escape: the fact that this handful of famished men and women, in broad daylight, should charge and break through the investing lines of their enemies and, but for the intervention of the colonial irregulars, would have nearly all got away, is a wonderful instance of unconquerable courage. perhaps i may be excused for recounting one or two more instances of maori chivalry. during the negotiations that took place at the end of the waikato war, the general asked wirimu thomihana, through his interpreter, how it was that the maoris had not attempted to cut off his convoys at a place called the hog's back?--the said place having such natural difficulties as to render its passage almost impossible, had it been obstructed by a hostile force. thomihana's reply was: "what a foolish question for a great war chief to ask. if we had prevented you from obtaining food, how could you have continued to fight?" [illustration: rewi.] on another occasion two companies of soldiers, while on the line of march, piled their arms, sat down to rest and eat their dinners. not far away a body of maoris were lying _perdus_. these crept up, through the long fern, to the unsuspecting tommies. then, jumping to their feet, rushed through them, seizing _en route_ all the rifles, belts and pouches, they disappeared with them again into the fern. the maori chief presently informed the discomfited and helpless troops that he would not allow his men to injure them, as he considered that both themselves and their officers were far too ignorant of war to be treated as warriors, and that they might therefore return in peace to their camp, where he advised them to learn how to take care of themselves before they again came out to fight. the th regiment had been stationed very many years in new zealand, it being supposed that their existence had been forgotten by the war office, who had most probably lost their postal address. some of the officers and very many of the men had married maori women, so that the regiment was on very friendly terms with the natives. war broke out, and, naturally, the white man and maori were on opposite sides and fought bravely against one another. this did not, however, affect their mutual esteem, for when at sunset the firing ceased numbers of maoris used to leave their rifle pits and stroll over to their opponents' shelter trenches to exchange compliments, while the maori women brought over plentiful supplies of pork and potatoes with which to regale their husbands, who, during the day, had been trying their best to pot their fathers and brothers. these latter, with plenty of quiet chaff, would quietly discuss the prominent events of the past day's fighting, and the possible occurrences of the coming one, with no more animus than teams of cricketers discuss together, at dinner, the events of that day's play. at guard-mounting these friendly enemies would part, and at daylight next morning each would do his level best to put out of action his relative by marriage. this sporting relationship was kept up for some time, until, reinforcements pouring into the country, another regiment was sent to strengthen the haki-hakis (the th), when the maoris, thinking that the new-comers might be enemies to the th, promptly left their rifle pits and, coming over to their opponents, proffered their assistance to drive away the supposed undesirable new-comers, and then continue their own fight. i have frequently talked to maori warriors of their old-time wars, tribe against tribe, when they have related accounts of the awful raids of hongi, heki, rauparaha and others. and these stories not only teem with incidents of splendid courage, but are also blackened by the recital of as many acts of brutality, treachery and cold-blooded slaughter sufficient to satisfy moloch himself: and relate to men who would on one occasion perform feats of heroic chivalry worthy to stand beside those of bayard or sir walter manny, while on the next day they would commit acts that would have been considered bad form in hades even by tilly and cromwell. chivalry was to disappear entirely when the natives adopted the extraordinary and debased form of nonconformist christianity called the pai marire or hau hau faith: at which time, retaining only their courage, they relinquished every other good quality they may ever have possessed. during the bitter and savage fighting of the later sixties, splendid actions were done by these men while attempting to carry off, from the field of battle, their wounded or dead comrades; and their determined resistance, offered up to the last, threw a halo of glory round them that even their cold-blooded murders and torturing atrocities could scarcely obliterate. well i think i have said enough about their courage; let me turn to the next greatest virtue possessed by man--viz. hospitality. the hospitality of the maori was unbounded. the best of everything he had was readily placed at the disposal of his guest, and even should he be so circumstanced as to have only a few potatoes between himself and starvation, these would be cheerfully surrendered for his visitor's consumption; nor was any payment expected, and if offered would have been indignantly refused; notwithstanding the fact that the recipient of the bounty might be a perfect stranger. in those good old days, when the inmates of a pah or kainga saw a white man, of any rank or position, approaching the place, all the women, girls and children would seize mats, or anything else that came handy, and, waving these, cry as loud as they could the greetings of welcome: "hacre mai! hacre mai!" (come to us! come to us!). and these cries would continue, and be joined in by all the inhabitants, until the stranger had entered the village. on doing so, the visitor, provided he were acquainted with strict maori etiquette, would pay no attention to anyone, but, handing his horse over to the nearest boy, pass through the screaming, gesticulating crowd, and seat himself in front of the guest hut, usually the best whare in the village. here he would be faced by all the principal men of the place, who would squat down, in a semicircle, in front of him, the women, boys, girls and men of low degree standing in rear of them, when with one accord the whole multitude would lift up their voices and weep--and when i say weep it was weeping, real weeping, and no make-believe about it. this weeping, known as a tangi, was to me always a matter of wonder, as i could never understand how a maori should be able to turn on the water-tap of his emotions at any moment he might desire to do so. i have frequently seen scores of grand old kai tangatas (man-eaters) squat down and, at will, cry and sob, with big tears hopping down their tattooed cheeks, as bitterly as some tender-hearted little girls would do if their favourite cat had just murdered their pet canary; and these grim old warriors, in less than a minute, would be in more urgent need of a big bandana handkerchief than a small boy with a bad attack of influenza. old men and women would crawl out of their huts, stragglers would hurry up to join the throng, until every man, woman and child belonging to the tribe would be rocking and wailing as if their very heart-strings had been wrung with woe by the most personal disaster. after these lamentations had lasted a few minutes, one of the principal chiefs would rise to his feet and make a short oration, somewhat in this fashion: "you have come to us, o stranger, welcome! welcome! welcome!" then, turning to his people, he would say: "what is the use of this crying? dry your tears. our friend is with us, make him welcome. he is hungry, prepare food for him. he is fatigued, let him rest. bring him water, let him drink. our friend is with us, cease this foolish weeping. our hearts grow light at seeing him." he would then advance to the visitor and offer his hand, in the case of a white man; but if the said stranger should be a native, of rank or family, he would squat down in front of him and rub noses. then, placing their hands each on the other's shoulders, they would dissolve once more into tears, mussle their noses together, and for a minute or two mingle their weepings: this process having to be gone through by the stranger with every man in the village, whose rank entitled him to approach the guest. the salutations having been finished, the stranger was left in peace, everyone retiring, with the exception of a chief, or some particular friend, who would remain to see to his comfort. and here at once the innate good-breeding of the maori came to the front: insomuch as, no matter how anxious the natives were to hear the news, or the purport of the visit, the guest was never pestered with questions, not even as from whence he came, or whither he was going, and it remained entirely to his own discretion as to whether he gave them any information or not. in the meantime, girls brought him water to drink and wash with, others had swept out the whare, brought in fresh fern and laid down new mats for his use. presently the sound of singing would be heard, and a group of girls, carrying small open trays made from the broad, glazed leaves of the flax plant, would, with a dancing step and a little song, approach him and place them in front of him. these trays contained food, such as pork, eels, enunga (fresh-water whitebait), kora (the delicious fresh-water crayfish), potatoes, pigeons, and sweet potatoes, or any of them the village contained. anyhow, the guest might be quite sure it was the very best his hosts had to offer. on their arrival the man who had been looking after him would take a morsel of food from one dish and eat it; then, rising to his feet, he would retire, at the same time wishing his guest a good appetite. everyone else would depart with him, with the exception of one or, perhaps, two girls, who would remain on their knees beside him, to wait on him and tempt him to eat. the evening meal being over, the chiefs would gather round their guest, and, if he should happen to be a man of any importance, long and deep would be the conversation: the subjects ranging from the health and doings of the great white queen and her governor, to the most trivial topics of the day. each man in his turn would state his ideas and reasons, and was listened to with attention; while the guest's words were carefully weighed, and even, if his hearers disagreed with him, the arguments adduced to refute his statements were always expressed in a manner so polite, and in words so carefully chosen, that it was impossible for him to feel personally hurt in regard to his _amour propre_. of course if the visit had been premeditated the stranger would have come amply supplied with tobacco, which would be passed round, and accepted with a _bien aise_ that quite disguised, or rather hid, their intense longing for it, and would be enjoyed with many a hearty grunt of satisfaction and approbation. then the girls would haka (dance with songs) in the moonlight, some of them having placed glow-worms and fireflies in their hair. and the sight of flashing eyes, gleaming white teeth, flowing locks and lovely, swaying figures was sufficient to have made old saint anthony himself sit up; although the words of the songs that accompanied the dances, and the gestures that in part composed them, were of a nature to shock a far less austere saint, and would perhaps have even extracted a blush from an habitué of the old-time jardin mabille. late night would put an end to the festivities, and the stranger, all his comforts well seen to, might retire to his fern bed in peace. it was a point of honour among the maoris to protect their guest, as it was a point of honour, on the part of the guest, to stand by his hosts. in the yarn i spun about orakau, i pointed out how the taupo and uriwera tribes refused to render up the pah lent to them to dwell in by the waikatos, and that sooner than do so they fought to the bitter end. again, in , when te kooti, flying from us, took refuge in the king country, and demanded the protection of the waikatos, this was readily granted him; and the waikato tribes, although they had no personal esteem for him, much less love or even family ties, would have gone to war with us rather than have surrendered him, had the new zealand government demanded him from them. a maori tribe considered it most unfortunate should even an accident befall a guest while dwelling in one of their villages; for if such an occurrence should happen, they ran the risk of being chaffed and held up to ridicule, by the surrounding tribes, for their inability to take care of a visitor. much more so was this the case during war-time. should a white officer be detailed for duty to a native contingent, he would be looked after and his safety guarded in ways almost ludicrous and by no means congenial to himself. this was done, because if that officer were killed or wounded, it would reflect the deepest disgrace on the tribe with whom he served; they would never hear the last of it, not only from their friends, but also from their enemies. and these would continually rate them, and charge them with the accusation that it was through their carelessness or cowardice that the misfortune had happened to the man who had been entrusted to them. the maori was very superstitious. he firmly believed in dreams, visions, omens of all sorts and the gift of prophecy, while the number of unlucky acts he might involuntarily commit during one day was quite sufficient to account for a whole chapter of accidents on the morrow. he regarded the tohungas (magicians) with great respect, so long as their divinations and prophecies panned out; but there are plenty of well-authenticated cases where a warrior has wreaked his vengeance on a tohunga through whose false prognostications the tribe has got into a mess. nor are incidents lacking to show that prophets, who had earned a reputation for themselves, would not rather commit suicide than allow themselves to be proved wrong in their divinations. let me spin you a couple of yarns to illustrate what i have just written. it was in march that the hau hau apostle kereopa, in the course of a few hours, converted the swagger flock of red-hot christians, who, under the guidance of bishop williams, had earned a mighty reputation for sanctity, to the new faith of pai marire. the good bishop and his family, barely escaping with their lives from his own sheep, departed to napier, leaving the hau haus in possession of his residence at waerengahika, at which place they built a pah that was, in november of the same year, attacked by the colonial forces. the hau haus were superior in numbers, but during the first few days the colonials gained some trivial advantages, and on the fourth day began to sap up to the works, which they had surrounded. this day chanced to be a saturday, and the working party were surprised by an attack, in their rear, from a body of the enemy's reinforcements seeking to enter the pah, which they succeeded in doing, the working party having to beat a retreat, with the loss of six men killed and five wounded. this trivial success greatly elated the natives and so bucked up one of the apostles that he at once started in and prophesied nineteen to the dozen. now this johnny possessed that small amount of knowledge that is so dangerous to its owner. he had been brought up at a mission station, and accustomed to going to church, with great regularity, every sunday. he therefore thought that all christians acted in the same way, and that the colonial irregulars would be just as methodical in their religious observance as the goody-goody hangers-on at the various mission stations he was acquainted with. here of course he made a blooming error, for what member of the lost legion ever allowed preaching to interfere with fighting, or carried devotional books about with him when he had to hump his own swag. now this josser, thinking he knew all about the customs of the white man, considered he was quite safe in turning on his prophetic tap. so on the evening after the small success already spoken about he started in and informed his hearers that he had received a revelation, directing the hau haus that on the following day, which was sunday, they were to leave the pah an hour before noon and advance on the white men's shelter trenches, which they would find empty, and that the majority of the latter who had not been turned into stone by the angel gabriel would be surprised at their devotions and fall a prey, without any resistance, to the tender mercies of the hau haus, who, he guaranteed, were to escape, scathless, from wounds or death. these promises seem absurd to white men, but they were implicitly believed by the maoris, who next day acted on the strength of them. the main position of the colonials was in the rear of three strong thorn hedges, two of which flanked the third, and these had all been well trenched and were, of course, held, day and night, by a strong guard; in fact the men lived and slept in them. between the centre hedge and the pah, a distance of less that yards, stretched a smooth meadow, without a particle of cover, and the astonishment of our men was intense when, at o'clock a.m., they saw some hundreds of the hau haus quietly leave the pah and advance in two wedge-shaped columns against the centre of their position. at first they thought it was a general surrender, but the war flags the enemy carried rapidly dispersed that idea; and when the two columns were well between the three hedges, and not yards from any of them, the bugle sounded and a tremendous volley was poured into the misguided maoris, who fell in heaps of dead and wounded men. notwithstanding the awful shock their nerves must have received from this quite unexpected slaughter, these gallant though fanatical warriors at once charged home and tried to force their way through the strong thorn fence, only to be swept away like flies. and soon the survivors had to beat a hasty retreat back to the pah, lashed the whole way by the heavy fire of the white men, who did not go to church. it was during the advance that the incident i originally alluded to took place. the first volley had smashed the hau haus' leading column, the advance of which the apostle led in person; for, to give these prophets only their just due, they never hung back from taking the post of the greatest danger in any of the crazy enterprises that they persuaded their disciples to undertake. well, the first volley knocked over the prophet, who fell badly wounded, but succeeded in regaining his feet, whereupon one of the chiefs, disengaging himself from the mass of stricken and shaken men, deliberately walked up to him, drew his tomahawk and cleft his skull, then, springing forward, led his surviving followers to almost certain death. this might be called an instance of sharp and ready reckoning, but it was by no means a singular case of rough and rapid retribution; so that, taking into consideration the number of apostles who were knocked over, in a legitimate manner, fighting, and those who were tomahawked by furious and disappointed votaries, the trade could scarcely be called a healthy one, and it must have required a great amount of pluck on the man's part who took on himself the prophetic rôle. but, then, what will not some men risk for notoriety? now, having finished with this johnny, let me tell you about another of a somewhat similar kidney. the friendly tribes of the wanganui sent a contingent to the east coast, to assist us during the opotiki expedition, and among them was a first-class, up-to-date prophet named pitau. the wanganui, at this time, were not strong in prophets, so that this man was made much of by his tribe, for although some of the young men had begun to deride prophecy, yet the old warriors still implicitly believed in the ancient cult, and regarded pitau as a valuable adjunct to the field force. now it was the usual custom of the various tribes, when they went to war, to hold deep consultations with their tribal prophets, who for a consideration would advise and foretell what was going to happen, and if the war was going to prove successful or otherwise. it was so in this case. pitau was called on to lift the veil of futurity, and, having gone through the necessary incantations, the oracle spoke as follows:--"you will be successful in all things, o wanganui: only one man will die, and that man will be pitau." now this was distinctly rough on pitau, who must either die or be declared an impostor. anyhow, the oracle had spoken, and the war party started. the wanganui reached opotiki, did their duty well, and on the completion of their service were to take ship for home. up to this time nearly everything had panned out all right for the soothsayer, with regard to his prophecy: the wanganui had been successful and had not lost a single man; but the oracle had distinctly stated pitau was to die himself, yet here he was still alive. it certainly was not his fault, for at the fight at the kiori-kino, and also in other skirmishes, he had done his best to get killed, but seemed to bear a charmed life; yet if he returned home alive, his name and reputation as a high-toned prophet would be gone for ever. the fates, however, gave him one more chance, and he grasped it. canoes, heavily ladened, were pushing off from the shore to the ship: he sprang into one of these, and by his extra weight swamped the canoe. the amphibious natives easily swam ashore, but so did not pitau, for, raising his arms above his head, he allowed himself to sink down to his rest, among the eels and crabs, rather than allow his prophecy to be unfulfilled. surely there are many names on the scroll of martyrs who have laid down their lives, to prove the truth of their convictions, less worthy of fame than that of pitau. and now i think i may spin you a yarn about a personal experience i had of the superstitious fears of the maoris, although by doing so i must confess to a _mauvaise plaisanterie_ i was guilty of perpetrating, and of which i am thoroughly ashamed, that created a greater emotion, among a party of highly respectable old cannibals, than any convulsion of nature would have caused. it happened in this way: i was well aware of the great superstitious dread the maoris had of the green lizard. these, although they exist in new zealand, are rare birds, and during the years i was there i saw but few of them. the maoris, however, believe that at death one of these lizards enters a man's body, and consequently look on them with horror and abhorrence. at the period i am yarning about, i was located at ohinimutu, in the hot lake district, and had made a short visit to the town of napier. during my stay there, while wandering about the streets, i noticed that a speculative storekeeper had added some children's toys to his stock in trade, perhaps the very first that had ever been imported into the country, and as they attracted my attention i stopped to examine them. we are told that old nick is ever ready to prompt an idle man, and he must have been mighty adjacent to me that day, for on my spotting one of those old-fashioned, wooden crocodiles, painted a vivid green with bright-red spots on it, i immediately went into the shop and purchased it. the thing was constructed of small blocks of wood, sawn in such a way, and connected together with string, that when you held it in your hand it wriggled, and looked alive, while it also possessed a gaping red mouth and staring eyes. the confounded insect would not have raised a squall out of a nervous european babe of a year old; but, such as it was, i put it into my kit and, on my return up country, took it with me. in due course of time i reached ohinimutu, where, after a swim in the hot water and a good dinner, i retired to my private abode, a large hut built maori fashion, but with european door and window, as i knew i should have to give audience to some dozen chiefs of the arawa tribe, who would call on me to welcome my return and hear the news. it did not take me long to prepare for their reception, and getting the toy out of my kit, i slipped it up my left sleeve, so that it was hidden. i then sat down in a low camp-chair and awaited my victims, who soon arrived, giving me their words of welcome as they entered, and squatting down in a semicircle in front of the fire, all of them as keen as mustard to hear the news. they were a fine-looking lot of old chaps, ten in number, and some of them almost gigantic in size. old hori haupapa must have stood over seven foot high, when in his prime; and the rest were all big men. anxious as they were to hear the news, still they were far too well-bred to ask any questions, and, as i pretended to be in very low spirits and sat speechless, heaving an occasional deep sigh, they squatted there, conversing in low whispers, with looks full of commiseration for my unhappy state. for a few minutes we sat quiet, then i made signs to the girl who attended on us to hand round the rum and tobacco: which she did. and after each man had been served, letting go a dismal groan, i said: "friends, i thank you for your words of welcome. my heart is very dark. i have dreamed a dream." here i paused to let the poison work; for a dream to a maori audience is always a safe draw, and the muttered grunts and ejaculations, passed round with nudges, showed me they were quite ripe to believe anything. so i continued: "yes, friends, last night i dreamed a dream, and the interpretation of that dream is hidden from me." here i paused again, and slipped the toy into my left hand, which rested on my left knee, while i held their eyes with my own, so that, in the firelit whare, none of them noticed my sleight of hand. then i continued: "i dreamed, o chiefs of the arawa, that we all sat, as we are doing now, by this fire, when lo! out of my left hand crept a ngaraka" (green lizard). here again i paused, but so did not my hearers, for old taupua, glancing nervously at my left hand, at once spotted what he thought to be a dreaded lizard. the grim old warrior let go a howl of consternation and promptly turned a back somersault, thereby drawing the attention of all the others to the noxious reptile; and in one moment these dignified old savages, who would have faced without flinching the fire of a battery of artillery sooner than have committed a gaucherie, were trying to push and struggle through the door, with no more regard to manners or manhood than the ordinary well-dressed englishman displays who pushes ladies on one side while boarding a tram. the first one to reach the door was an ancient, who did not understand the mechanism of a white man's lock, so failed to open it; and in a moment they were climbing over one another's backs, in their frantic endeavours to escape until the end of the whare gave way, and the big chiefs of the arawa tribe precipitated themselves, door and all, into outer darkness, where they formed a confused heap of writhing, howling humanity. at last they struggled free, and each man made for his own hut, all fully convinced that something dreadful was going to happen and that the whole community was past praying for. nor did the panic end here; for in a moment the tribe was roused up and, the awful news being promulgated, in two flirts of a cat's tail, every man, woman and child had cleared out of the kainga. yes, those who had canoes took to them, and those who had none used their legs, and used them to some advantage, for in less time than it takes me to write it the whole of that congregation of peaceful natives had abandoned their happy homes and fled. well, after my first burst of laughter was over, i began to count up the cost of my stupid joke, and at once saw i was likely to have to pay dearly for my fun. to commence with, my hut would have to be rebuilt; but that was a trifle. what i had to fear was the censure of the government, as the defence minister was an old scotsman, without a particle of fun in his whole corpus, so was not likely to view the scatterment of his most pampered tribe with equanimity, and visions of reasons in writing and prosecutions danced before my eyes. it was clear that the first thing to be done was to get the natives to come back to their kainga; but how? i knew full well they would not suffer me to approach within a mile of any of them, and although i had some sterling friends among the fighting chiefs, yet, if i could not get speech with them, so as to explain matters to them, their good will would be of no use to me. fortunately, among the men dwelling at ohinimutu was a ngapuhi native, and i engaged him to act as messenger; but, although he was a red-hot christian, nothing would persuade him to come near, much less touch, the wretched toy. i, however, induced this man to go over to mokoia island, see the principal tribal tohunga, and get him to come across and interview me. fitting him out with a gallon of rum and plenty of tobacco, i despatched my mercury and awaited his return in trepidation. on the morning of the second day he reported himself, and informed me that the tohunga awaited me, but that, as nothing would induce the limb of satan to land, i must go down to the lake, and he would discourse with me from his canoe. so i had to go to the lake and collogue with the old sinner from the point of a jutting-out cape. after i had tried to make him understand the true state of affairs, i produced the toy; but nothing i could say would induce him to believe that it was composed of inanimate wood. no, he could see it move, swore it was alive, and sternly refused to touch it, or even come closer to me, so that he could examine it. at last, happy thought, i suggested i should burn it. to this he consented. so, putting the unfortunate crocodile on the top of a flat stone, i collected some dry sticks and, with him watching every movement, constructed a funeral pyre, and cremated the wretched toy to ashes. then he consented to land and came up to my hut, where he went through many incantations and gesticulations, although he avoided touching or entering it. presently he turned to me and said: "this and all it contains must be at once burned. have you removed anything from it?" i had not; though, expecting something of this sort to happen, i had taken every care that my servant should do so, and that absolutely nothing of value remained within it; so, like a radical minister, i only told half the truth. "set it on fire," quoth he, and this i did with equanimity, as it would only give the maoris the trouble of building me a better one, so that in a few minutes not a vestige of my late mansion remained. as everything that had been contaminated by the penny toy was now supposed to be destroyed, the old tohunga consented to discuss terms of peace, which consisted as follows:--first, that i should hand over, privately, to the tohunga himself, one gallon of rum, three pounds of tobacco and twenty-five pounds of flour, the said tohunga guaranteeing to at once dream a dream directing the natives to rebuild my house, with great rapidity. secondly, that at the general tangi, to be held next day, on the return of the natives, i was to provide ten gallons of rum, twenty pounds of tobacco and half-a-ton of flour, all of which was to be consumed thereat. and lastly, should i on any future occasion go to napier, and discover any more instruments of white man's devilry, i was to bring them to him, when, with a little judicious management, we could work many miracles to our mutual advantage. all these terms having been agreed to, satan's representative among the arawa departed, and the next morning all his congregation, accompanied by many of their country friends, returned, when a big tangi with much feasting and dancing took place; but even my very best friends looked askance at me for a long time, while for some weeks the majority of the women, girls and children would fly from me as if i had the plague. you must not think for a moment that this avoidance was caused by ill will, or that the old chiefs bore me any malice for the shameful trick i had played them, or that i was fined the rum, flour, etc., for the evil i had done. not a bit of it. i was mulct for my misfortune, not for my fault. in their eyes no fault had been committed. if moses himself had returned to tell them i had played them a trick, they would not have believed him. no; had they not seen the beast come out of my hand at the very moment i was relating my dream? trick indeed, not much. they looked on me as an awful example of misfortune, and therefore as a fit and proper personage to be politely robbed. yes, robbed. had i been a maori, not only myself but all my family would have been robbed of every single article we possessed in the world, in payment for the affliction of bad luck that had fallen on me; but as i was a white man this could not be done, so i was fined. for is not this in accordance with the ancient custom or law of muru, which authorises a man smitten by a sudden calamity to be plundered of all he possesses? and what greater calamity was possible to mortal man than to have an obscene lizard grow out of his hand? therefore i was fined. as for trick, nonsense! what man dare make fun of, or render ridiculous, the dignity and majesty of the head chiefs of the arawa tribe? i think i may say a few more words on this extraordinary law of muru--a law that europeans regarded with laughter and contempt; yet it worked very well among the natives, and should any family have met with misfortune and the law not have been put in force against them, they would have considered themselves not only slighted, but insulted. it also, among others, contained one salient good quality, as it caused all personal portable property constantly to change hands, for the family that was plundered one day would, in the ordinary course of events, rob some other family a few days afterwards, so that a canoe, blanket or any household utensil might pass through many hands and, if not worn out during its transits, might at last return to its original possessor. yet to a white man it did seem funny that a party of natives _en route_ to visit another family, and whose canoe should be capsized when landing, were not only robbed of their canoe, but that the unlucky ones would have considered themselves insulted had not their friends immediately annexed it. i remember well that once, while on a journey to visit a pah, accompanied by a chief of some importance, in fact he was a native assessor--_i.e._ a sort of maori j.p. appointed by government--a very queer illustration of the law of muru cropped up. we were to inquire into some trivial case, the defendant being the son of the chief of the place, and the utmost penalty not more than five shillings. just as we reached the pah my companion, who was riding a fine, high-spirited horse, was bucked off, and while in the act of rising received a severe kick on the croup. he was picked up with much solicitude, all the natives condoling with him. the case was tried and settled, the defendant being mulct two shillings and sixpence, and next day, when about to depart, the horses being brought to the gate of the pah, my companion's horse was not forthcoming. at once i demanded the reasons why, and was informed it had been annexed as muru, for throwing and kicking my unfortunate friend, who at once acquiesced in the judgment and thanked the chief of the pah for his courtesy in paying him such an honour. again i was on a visit to a pah situated close to the mouth of a river, on the other side of which was another pah. one day my hosts started out to shoot a huge seine net, and of course the whole population turned out to assist or give advice. the noise, as everyone yelled at the top of his or her gamut, was deafening. however, two large canoes eventually got away with the net on board, and after taking a bold sweep returned to shore and landed the sea end. immediately all hands, redoubling their yells, tailed on to the hauling ropes and pulled and howled with all their might. just as the bag of the net came in view, a huge shark, that had been encompassed in its toils, made a bold dash, broke the net and escaped, letting out, at the same time, many large fish. the excited and disappointed natives were just dragging the net and the still great remainder of the catch up on to the sand, when their neighbours, apprised by the yells that something unfortunate had occurred, dashed across the river in their canoes, and after a sham resistance of a few minutes swept up and carried off all the remaining fish. they might also have confiscated the net, but did not, an old chief confiding to me that the other side of the river was full of rocks, and not suitable for seine netting; moreover, the net was broken and would require repairing. such was the law of muru. of course to yarn about new zealand without saying anything about the custom of tapu would be on all fours with yarning about rome and not mentioning the pope. so here goes for a few remarks about the ancient but very confusing custom of tapu. anything animate or inanimate could be rendered tapu by the will, or even touch, of a man who was tapu himself. tapu might also render a thing so sacred, or might render it so unclean, that to touch that thing would constitute an act of unpardonable sacrilege, or cause the toucher to be looked upon as so defiled as to be ostracised by the whole community, although the act was done innocently and in ignorance. to break a tapu was looked upon, by the superstitious natives, as a direct challenge to the greatly dreaded spiritual powers, and was certain to bring swift and awful punishment. a big chief was tapu, and if he went to war the essence of tapu became doubly distilled, so much so that he could not feed himself, nor even touch food with his hands. nor could he even touch a cup or utensil that did not actually belong to himself, for if he did so, the article he used at once became so tapu that no one else could use it; consequently it became either his personal property, or had to be destroyed. this in a country where there were neither shops nor manufactories was an impossibility, so that at meal-time a chief had to eat apart, and be fed by either a girl or slave. truly the sublime approached the ridiculous, to see a grim, tattooed old warrior squatting down, with a small girl throwing morsels of food into his mouth, or with his head thrown back, and his jaws extended to their full width, receiving a stream of water, poured down his throat, from the spout of an ancient tea-kettle. even an ordinary warrior, not being a slave, lost his back when on the warpath--_i.e._ his back became so tapu that he could carry nothing, much less provisions, on it; and this was also very inconvenient when having to march through a rough, bushed country, without waggons or pack-horses. food could even become tapu, especially that which remained from the portion served out for the use of the chief, even though no part of his body had touched it; and there is a well-authenticated case, that on one occasion a slave, being on the warpath, found some food and ate it. no sooner had he done so than he was informed it was the remains of the dinner of the fighting chief. this news so horrified the poor superstitious wretch that he was at once taken ill with sharp internal pains, and died. the maoris always made their plantations in the bush, frequently at a considerable distance from their kaingas, and these, after the potatoes had been planted, would only be occasionally visited by their owners, who, to protect them, would get the chief or tohunga to tapu the plantation; and this being done, the produce would be quite safe from the depredations of others. about the year some six brace of pheasants were turned loose in the waikato district, and the principal chief put his tapu on them for seven years. these birds increased and throve in a manner truly wonderful. not a maori dare touch one, although long before the period of protection had expired the birds had not only spread all over the waikato district, but also over all the adjoining ones. and they carried their protection with them, for notwithstanding the fact that they had become somewhat of a nuisance to the arawa tribe, who were not in any way subordinate to the waikato chief, yet they respected his tapu, and would have starved sooner than eaten them. it was by making use of this tapu that the wonderful head of game and fish at present in new zealand has been reared and acclimatised. should a chief die within his whare, that hut and everything it contained at once became tapu and was lost to use; for as soon as his body had been removed, the door was at once blocked up, and the hut with its contents allowed to moulder away, no one daring to touch, much less remove, one single article. tapu, therefore, in a manner of speaking, was the antipoise of the law of muru, for if the enforcement of the latter rendered the portable property of an individual or tribe precarious, yet tapu made his title indissoluble; so the two laws or customs got on very well together, and may exist to the present day. i cannot leave my friends the maoris without speaking about their awful cruelty in torturing and killing their prisoners, and in the foul massacres of helpless women and children. yet even in this there may be something said in their favour, especially should you compare them, savages as they were, with the human monsters that every christian european country has produced, when they would be found no more cruel or bloodthirsty. now i don't want to draw parallels in history, but it rather disgusts me to hear alva, tilly, nana sahib, or even te kooti, run down, while such a cold-blooded villain as cromwell is extolled. i was taught as a schoolboy to regard tilly and alva as the incarnations of satan; i suppose because they made it sultry for protestants; but it was not pointed out to me that at the very same time alva and his spanish troops were making it hot for lutherans in the netherlands, the english troops of protestant queen bess were perpetrating infinitely worse brutalities on the helpless irish, while the fiendish cruelties of tilly's wild croats and pandours, at the sack of magdeburg, were equalled, if not surpassed, at drogheda, by oliver cromwell and his canting hypocritical puritans. i am myself an irishman, a protestant, a unionist and an imperialist, just as ready to fight for our king and flag as ever i was during the forty years i passed on the colonial frontiers, but i can blame none of my countrymen for the hatred they feel towards england, provided they fight like men and eschew all cowardly, underhand, secret societies; and i am convinced it will require many centuries to roll past before the recollection of the penal laws and the foul, savage treachery of past english rule is obliterated, while the curse of cromwell will remain for ever. nana sahib and te kooti did not, combined, kill as many helpless women and children as either alva, tilly or cromwell; yet, as they killed all they could, they cannot be blamed for that, and i have no doubt that on their arrival in hades they were assigned just as honourable entertainment and particular attentions as the aristocratic fiend, the priestly murderer or the puritan cut-throat. it must also be remembered that the atrocities committed by te kooti and his fanatical followers might be blamed upon the fiendish faith they had adopted and had never been practised by the maoris during the previous six years of the war, also that they were more or less fighting in defence of their country against invaders. again, te kooti had been the victim of gross injustice, at the hands of the colonial government, insomuch as he had been transported without trial, and that the evidence against him was not only insufficient, but was also of such a nature that the law officers of the crown could find no excuse even to bring him to a trial, so that many of his brutalities were prompted by a desire for utu, a custom universally practised by the maoris. please don't think i have written the above for the purpose of deifying england's enemy, or to slander my own countrymen like a radical little englander, for i would have, at any time, blown the roof off te kooti's head, or that of one of his followers, with as little compunction as i have since shot a mangy jackal; but i have written it simply to show that, if savage new zealand produced one fiend, in the shape of te kooti, christian england produced a worse one in the shape of that sanctimonious hypocrite, oliver cromwell, and that therefore we should not endanger our own glass by throwing stones. i alluded just now to the custom of utu, which means payment or revenge, and is very similar to the law of the jews, that laid down the maxim of an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth--an axiom which the maoris believe in thoroughly. it was the practice of this custom that led to many of the sanguinary combats and massacres that took place between the armed traders and the natives during the first half of the past century. these traders visited new zealand and exchanged muskets, powder, ironware, etc., for flax, whale oil, curios and men's heads. they were a hard-fisted, lawless crowd, who, in their brigs or schooners, well armed with musket, pike and carronade, would anchor in one of the splendid natural harbours and begin their traffic with the haughty, warlike savages. business carried on between such men as these often brought about a row, which a musket shot or a slash from cutlass or tomahawk would not improve, and the ship would then sail away, after most likely the killing or wounding of some natives. the remembrance of the blood spilt would be treasured by the maoris, and the next trader who visited that place would have to pay for the evil deeds of the previous visitor. now the maori looked on all white men as belonging to the same tribe, and the custom of utu allowed any man injured by an individual to wreak his vengeance upon any member of the said individual's tribe, provided his particular enemy were absent. in this he was backed up by all the members of his own tribe, especially if blood had been drawn; for tribal blood must be paid for with blood, and no sicilian clan ever carried out a vendetta more thoroughly than a maori hapu. this being so, the maoris eagerly looked for the next vessel, to take their blood payment for the blood spilt. knowing full well that their canoes and spears were no match for the well-armed ship, they would bide their time and have recourse to treachery. the white men would be received with apparent good will, and, if foolish enough, might be lulled into a mistaken sense of security. this being done, the majority of the crew would be enticed ashore, where, taken off their guard, or separated, they would be attacked, killed and eaten, while the ship, weakened by the loss of so many men, was sometimes boarded and captured, the natives thereby obtaining utu for the original injury done them. maoris were very punctilious about the honour of their tribes and ancestors, this being carried to an extent almost ludicrous. _par exemple_, a year or two before i left new zealand an old woman belonging to one tribe was planting potatoes, and as she shoved each tuber into the ground she called it by the name of one of the principal living chiefs or dead heroes of an adjoining tribe. this came to the ears of the said tribe, who immediately prepared for war, despatching an ultimatum that, unless the plantation and all the spuds it contained were at once destroyed, they would attack their insulting neighbours. the _casus belli_ must seem very absurd to a white man; but it was different to the offended tribe, as when, in the course of events, the murphies became ready for the pot, the scandalous old dame would be able to declare that she was not only devouring their living chiefs, but that, vampire-like, she was feeding upon their defunct ones. i mentioned that the maoris performed many splendid acts of courage in getting away their wounded and even their dead. this was done not only for love or comradeship, but to prevent the enemy from using their flesh in lieu of butcher's meat, and also to save their bones being turned into useful and ornamental articles by their opponents. for instance, let us suppose that during some ancient war, the waikato tribe fighting against the taranaki, the former should have killed and captured the body of a great war chief whom we will call te rawa. the flesh of the dead man, in the first place, would be eaten--a great indignity--but that would not be the end of him, for the bones would be preserved, and turned into fish-hooks, flutes and ornaments, the teeth strung nicely on flax, making a necklace; and it was not pleasant for the victim's descendants to hear that their revered though unfortunate ancestor was still furnishing food and bijouterie for the offspring of his slayer. now all the aforementioned useful articles were called by the name of the man they had, in the first place, belonged to--in this case te rawa. the owner of the fish-hook could boast that he was still eating te rawa, as he would call all the fish caught by that special hook te rawa. then, pointing to the necklace, he might brag he was wearing te rawa, and when inclined for music he would tootle on his flute and proudly declare he was playing te rawa; so that the unfortunate descendants of the poor old defunct, whenever they heard of this, would have to blush under their tattooed skins at the very name of their much-deplored ancestor. it was therefore a most sacred duty to rescue a dead or wounded comrade from the enemy, even when fighting against the white men; for although the natives well knew that we did not use their defunct relatives for rations, nor turn them into musical instruments, yet it had become so strong a custom among themselves to guard against such a possible catastrophe, that they still practised it although unnecessarily. i must revert once more to the custom of utu so as to point out the fair-mindedness of the natives should this law be used against themselves. let me give you just one instance. the circumstance took place after the capture of ngatapa. some hau haus had been taken prisoners, these being shot out of hand and their bodies thrown over a precipice; but six or eight of them remained alive, in our hands, as it was not certain they had participated in the poverty bay massacre. they were confined in a hut awaiting trial and, as all the murdered people were dead, it was a moot point whether these fellows would not get off for want of evidence. one of the men, however, whose relations had been murdered, determined that they should not slip through the clumsy fingers of the law, as alas so many of the blood-stained villains had succeeded in doing. he volunteered to act as one of the guard round the hut and, borrowing another revolver from a mate, he took the first opportunity to enter the hut and deliberately blew out the brains of all the inmates. this act of summary justice was fully approved of by the maoris, as it bore out the custom of utu; for if the defunct hau haus had not murdered the man's family themselves, yet their tribes had done so; and they considered it a square deal, as blood had been paid for by blood. i could yarn on about these queer people for hours and tell you of plenty of other quaint customs, such as their wakes, marriages, etc., also about their industry and other qualities, good and bad, for, faith! they have them mixed like all other people. but if you have followed and appreciated my first attempt it will encourage me to write more of my humble experiences on the frontiers of the empire with the old lost legion i love so well. chapter ii how matene failed to convert the lower wanganui it was in april 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 , 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 th may 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:-- . that a fight should take place the following day on the island of moutoa. . that the freedom of the right of road on the river should be the stake. . 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 men a side should take part in the combat. . 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. . 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 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 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 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 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 hau haus who had landed lay dead, badly wounded and 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 killed and 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 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 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. chapter iii how a scout won the new zealand cross up to the year the victoria cross was not to be won by any officer or man of h.m. colonial forces, although one civilian (cavanagh) had received it during the indian mutiny, yet in new zealand the greatest honour to be won by a britisher was denied to all but those actually serving in h.m. regular army or navy. this being so, the new zealand government obtained royal sanction to issue a similar cross, only manufactured out of gold and silver instead of bronze, to be won by the colonial troops, and this decoration is designated the new zealand cross. the yarn i am now going to spin you is how trooper george hill won his while employed as a scout on the east coast. in march the great hardships, the bitter weather, the large number of wounded and, above all, the cowardice of our allies, the arawa tribe, by far the most pampered by government, and the only new zealand tribe that can be called cowards, necessitated the colonial field force falling back from the high plateau of taupo to fort galatea to recuperate and refit. this gave te kooti leisure to look around for more devilments, and he determined to strike another blow at the settlements on the east coast. calling a meeting of the hau hau tribes at ruatahuna, he proposed to attack the friendly natives and the white settlers at mohaka or te wairoa. the former place was chosen and te kooti, with bloodthirsty fiends, started to carry out the raid. crossing the huiarau ranges they came to the waikare moana lake. here one of those chance occurrences happened that enabled the astute te kooti to keep his hold over the superstitious natives. on reaching the lake he issued orders that no man was to cross over before he did so himself. this order was disobeyed, for a canoe full of warriors at once started. the lake, a very large one and, like all others, surrounded by high mountains, is subject to being swept by sudden and heavy squalls. one of these overtook the disobedient warriors, capsized their canoe and although all managed to get ashore, yet one died from exhaustion, the remainder losing all their arms, food, etc. te kooti took advantage of this disaster and made capital out of it. he informed his men that the order he had promulgated had been issued direct from god, and that the disobedient warriors had been punished for non-compliance with it. then, seeing the weather was propitious, he entered a canoe and crossed in safety, his men following without further misadventure. te kooti by doing so gained much credit in the prophet line and stricter obedience from his superstitious followers. the lake being crossed, they pushed on without delay to the upper mohaka, surprised before daylight the arakaihi village, and butchered every soul in it, man, woman and child, with the tomahawk, so as not to alarm some settlers on the other side of the river. when daylight came they crossed the river and murdered with the greatest brutality two white men with their wives and three little children, as also they did another white settler who was unfortunate enough to fall into their hands alive. not satisfied with his morning's successful battue, te kooti and his gang, now increased to men, hurried on to the lower mohaka, which consisted of two friendly pahs, with a sprinkling of white settlers, a public-house, store, etc. they arrived there early in the day and at once attacked the smallest pah, known as the huke pah. the mohaka friendlies had received news of te kooti's rapid approach and had sent messengers to warn the troops stationed at te wairoa, only nineteen miles away, and the authorities at napier fifty miles distant (of this more anon). nearly all the mohaka warriors were absent, and the garrison of the huke pah consisted of six men and a large number of women and children. one of the defenders, however, named heta, was a grand specimen of a maori warrior, and under his influence they kept the hau haus at bay all that day and night, and might have held out, had not te kooti resorted to stratagem and by a foul piece of treachery succeeded in entering the works early the following morning, when he caused every living being, regardless of sex and age, to be massacred in cold blood. he then turned his attention to the other pah, hiruharama, which was garrisoned by only ten men, but also contained many women and children. here he again tried treachery, but this time failed, as the defenders had seen what had happened at huke and were determined to die fighting. he therefore had to commence to sap up to the palisades, which were old and rotten, but the nature of the ground, very hard limestone, delayed him. it was now that trooper george hill chipped in and took a hand. te kooti's lightning raid had been well conceived and brilliantly carried out, but luck was decidedly in his favour, as unfortunately it so chanced that the officers in charge of the safety of hawke's bay district were on the whole a very poor lot, as far as efficiency went. many of the regular colonial officers had been killed or rendered _hors de combat_ during the previous twelve months, the remainder were with the field forces at the front, so that the duty of guarding the settlements was left in the hands of the militia or volunteer officers, and these were quite unfit to cope with te kooti. they had plenty of good men, both friendly natives and volunteers, with a sufficiency of armed constabulary (the colonial regulars) to give them backbone, but the officers (unfortunately) considered discretion to be the better part of valour and mistook timidity for prudence, so much so that they missed their chance and covered themselves with something like disgrace. at te wairoa the o.c. had at his disposal mounted men, of whom were armed constabulary, splendidly trained and mounted, the other armed settlers, all good men. he also had friendly natives, and the whole of these men were simply spoiling for a fight. with one half of them he could have saved the huke pah, and cut up the hau haus, very many of whom had sacked the public-house and were lying about dead drunk; but he did nothing, for on receipt of the news, which was quickly confirmed, and although he was quite aware of the weakness of the pah's garrison, he asserted he still had doubts as to the truth of his information and only despatched trooper george hill, of the armed constabulary, to see if te kooti was really playing high jinks at the mohaka. trooper hill left te wairoa, on horseback, and rode in the direction of the mohaka. about half-way he met two mounted settlers, lamplough and burton, who, having heard of te kooti's advent, were doing a scout on their own; these men at once offered to accompany him, and did so. on reaching the vicinity of the mohaka they dismounted, tied up their horses and crept up a ridge from which they could observe the place. from this point of vantage they could see the huke pah, with the flag still flying, and also the puffs of smoke from the rifle pits of the enemy, so that they were fairly able to judge the number of the attackers and locate the positions they occupied. as there could now be no longer any doubt that te kooti and his gang were on the warpath, trooper hill, leaving the two settlers, both of them good men, on the ridge to observe the enemy, mounted his horse and returned towards the camp as fast as he could get his horse to go. unfortunately his horse knocked up, but just then he met three of his comrades, who had been sent out to look for him. despatching one of them to te wairoa with his report, hill and the other two men, tew and mitchell, returned to mohaka. here they tied up their horses and joined the settlers on the ridge, so as to keep the enemy under observation and be able to supply the o.c. of the relieving force with information. of course the a.c. troopers never doubted that a relieving force would be sent at once, probably wondered why there was not one on the job already; but they were not accustomed to militia officers. their own officers had no use for timidity, and regarded prudence and discretion as very good horses only to be trotted out at long intervals; anyhow, not one of the men on the ridge would have believed an angel, had he informed them that no relieving party would be sent at all. the five men remained on the ridge till after dark, and then descended to the flat where they had tied up their horses. they had, however, been guilty of an act of folly, insomuch that they had not left one of their number in charge of their mounts, for on reaching the place where they had left them tied up they found one of them had broken his tether rope and had levanted. as it was necessary to find the brute, hill and tew started away on foot to do so, each man taking his own line of search. the other men, instead of remaining quiet, waited a few minutes, then mounted their horses and rode over the flat to assist in the hunt. while doing so, in the pitch darkness, they stumbled over tew and foolishly challenged him in maori. he promptly answered with a carbine shot that killed lamplough's horse. burton, fancying tew to be a hau hau, returned the fire, his horse at once bucking him off and galloping away. the third man, trooper mitchell, hearing the firing and the galloping of the horses, thought they were attacked by the enemy, so, shouting to hill to run, he rode as hard as he could in the direction he fancied his comrade had taken, in order to assist him. he had not gone far when his horse turned turtle over a flax bush, fell with him, getting away and galloping off. all of the five men were now dismounted, each man thinking he was surrounded by hau haus, so they all bolted for an adjacent flax swamp and hid in the water all the remainder of the night--a just punishment for their carelessness and folly. daylight revealed the fiasco, and as they were dismounted they took cover and waited for the relief party that did not come. towards midday maoris turned up under the command of a grand old fighting chief, ihaka whanga, but less than of them were to be relied on, the rest semi hau haus, as much to be feared as trusted. at once the ridge was lined and hill saw that the huke pah had fallen, but that the hiruharama pah still held out though closely invested. the garrison, seeing friends on the ridge, shouted to them for assistance, as there were not enough men to hold the place should it be rushed. among ihaka whanga's party were twenty-five mohaka men, and these were the boys ready and willing to grasp at any plan, no matter how desperate, to relieve their relations and save the honour of their pah. george hill was the man for the emergency. he explained the only plan was to cut their way through the besiegers. he was game to lead, were the twenty-five game to follow? of course they were. so, without any thought of prudence, discretion, or even modesty, hill whipped off his boots, tunic, and riding breeches, so as to be able to run the better, and the gallant twenty-six, shouting their war-cry, charged the hau hau rifle pits. yes, they charged and charged home, for they broke their way, by sheer pluck and hard hitting, right through the ranks of the enemy (hill killing his man _en route_) and reached the gate of the pah, which they entered, only two of them being wounded during the rush. the men left on the ridge opened fire on the hau hau rifle pits, until te kooti sent a party to take them in the rear, when the untrustworthy natives all bolted, the four white men retired, and only old ihaka with two of his men were left. these three splendid warriors held the position to the last gasp, then ihaka gave the word to scatter and try to get away. the two men were caught and killed, but the old veteran managed to elude his pursuers and reach te wairoa in safety, where he gave the o.c. his opinion of his conduct. on hill entering the pah he found it to be manned by small boys and girls, standing on mounds of earth and stones to enable them to fire over the parapet, and that even with his twenty-five men he had not nearly enough hands to man the works. he at once went to the point of the greatest danger, a bastion, and could hear the hau haus sapping through the hard ground. he quickly noticed that the palisades were rotten, so much so that if the enemy could sap near enough to throw a pole, attached to a long rope, over the fence, a strong pull on the rope would cause such a breach that a storming party could at once enter, when numbers must gain the day. fortunately there was in the pah a number of oxen chains; the ends of these he made fast to the big corner posts of the work, and passed the chains outside the weak palisades, so rendering that style of attack abortive. [illustration: a maori girl.] in the bastion with him he had only two men, two small boys and three little girls, supplemented occasionally by the maori clergyman, who, between long prayers for the safety of his flock, hurled all the vituperations and cuss words to be found in the sacred writings at the heads of te kooti and his followers. hill, when he entered the pah, was famished for want of food; he naturally asked for some, and was furnished with a cup of tea, one biscuit and one apple. surprised at such meagre fare, tendered by the most hospitable people on earth, he asked for more and then ascertained that the food he had just eaten was the very last particles of provisions the place contained. but the garrison swore that before they surrendered they would eat their own children rather than let them fall into the hands of te kooti. all the remainder of that day and the ensuing night heavy firing was kept up, the hau haus attempting to tear down the palisades; but they were, thanks to hill's dodge with the oxen chains, unable to gain an entrance, although the defenders had frequently to rush from side to side of the works to oppose them. at daylight next morning it was discovered the enemy had constructed a line of rifle pits, close to the front face of the pah, on which were hoisted flags, and at sunrise, with much bugling, volley after volley was poured into the defenders' works. hill mustered his scanty and tired garrison to repel the expected rush, and lay quiet, having directed his men to reserve their fire till the rush was made. after some considerable time had passed the flags were suddenly withdrawn, the bugling and volleys ceased, and a dead silence ensued. the defenders, on the qui vive for some fresh devilry, sat tight, until one of them, unable to stand the suspense any longer, crept out and crawled to the edge of the cliff to reconnoitre. he reached the edge, took one glance, and was on his feet in a second, letting out a wild whoop of triumph. out tumbled man, woman and child; they lined the edge of the cliff, and with one accord broke into a wild war-dance (the parson leading), for still close, but in full retreat, they saw te kooti and his baffled gang of murderers. oh, but it was a glorious triumph, and must be celebrated with befitting honours, that the great false prophet with his much-feared, blood-smeared warriors had to turn their backs on a nearly defenceless pah, whose garrison consisted chiefly of women and children. trooper george hill, however, had his duty to perform; he had no time for feasts nor triumphs, for although the maoris begged him to remain, assuring him the roads would be ambuscaded, he caught one of te kooti's knocked-up horses and started along the napier road, so as to convey the intelligence that the hau haus had retreated. twelve miles along the track he met with the advance guard of the relieving column, who had taken three days to do a journey that should have been completed in eight hours. the men, mad with the procrastination and incompetency of their officers, were nearly in a state of mutiny, but it was of no avail; for although trooper hill reported te kooti had retreated, and offered to guide the mounted men on his track, and at all events regain the plunder, nothing was done, and the hau haus were allowed to retire in peace. there is no need for me to say any more about the officers, plenty was said about them at the time they were incapable; let them rip. trooper hill, however, did not think he had yet finished his work, for as soon as he had snatched a bite of food he volunteered to go out and scout for some of the unfortunate white women and children who were known to be fugitives or hidden in the wild bush and fern ranges. this he did, and succeeded in finding, relieving and bringing into safety several of the wretched, starving creatures, who otherwise must have died from privations. trooper george hill received the new zealand cross, and i for one say he richly deserved it, not only for the courage he displayed in action, but also his gallant conduct saved the honour and repute of the white man amongst the friendly maoris who were disgusted by the unfortunate behaviour of the officers. chapter iv a hau hau martyr let me spin you a yarn of how a maori was so imbued with fanaticism that he faced in cold blood extinction for the same. many of the hau haus, bloodthirsty, cruel fanatics as they were, whom the colonial forces ruthlessly knocked on the head during the latter half of the new zealand wars, are just as much entitled to be enrolled in the army of martyrs as are the early christians or any other poor devils who have perished by fire or sword for believing and sticking to their faith. again, there are many instances of hau haus who were so strong in their convictions that they of their own free will deliberately offered themselves up to undergo the fiery ordeal by leaving their harbours of safety and, unarmed, trusting alone to spiritual aid, faced certain death; and i have never read of any persecuted communities doing the same. when in the pai marire religion was promulgated by a demented maori named te ua, the two principal promises held out to induce the maoris to join the new religion were: first, that they should be rendered invulnerable in action; and, secondly, that they should be granted the gift of tongues. they were also promised the assistance of legions of angels, and that those white soldiers who were not turned into stone should with the rest of the settlers be driven into the sea, after which the natives should be given the knowledge of all the european arts and sciences. please note he made no promise about a future state, nor, like mahomet, did he invent any gorgeous paradise, thronged with pretty girls, where free drinks would be served out _ad libitum_. now these were queer promises to captivate a maori warrior, as after the first excitement there was but little in them to induce him to abandon christianity and cling to hau hauism. let us take them _seriatim_, remembering at the same time that the maori is an astute reasoner. first of all the promise of invulnerability. well, that would be all right so long as they only had to fight against the white man, but the pakeha was to be driven out, and what would follow then? war was the maori's greatest pleasure, and each tribe hated his neighbour quite as much as he hated the white man. yet his neighbour was to become just as invulnerable as he was to be himself. where, therefore, would be the fun if he could not kill his enemy, eat him, nor turn his bones into useful and ornamental articles? bah! the zest of war would be gone. then again the second promise. what on earth use could the gift of tongues be to a man when there was not to be a single foreigner left in the country with whom to collogue? as for the other promises, they were not worth a row of pins, for if the warriors became invulnerable they wanted no further angelic aid; and as far as acquiring the arts and sciences went, so long as they could learn how to make rum and grow tobacco, all the rest could go swing, they being willing to live as their fathers had lived before them. now i am sure that if the natives had only reasoned as i have just done they would not have thrown off their christianity in such a hurry and become stark raving hau haus; but they seem on this occasion to have lost their wits altogether, for, carried away by the crazy incantations of te ua's apostles, they not only embraced the new faith, but believed in the truth of it, so much so that there are plenty of instances of their laying down their lives for it--and no man can do more. another wonderful thing is that even after four years' continuous fighting, during which period the angel had not only failed to bear a hand, but had not even rendered one man invulnerable, as apostle, priest and warrior had been put out of mess by the white man's bullet, still they were strong in their faith, and there are plenty of instances of hau haus, believing in the promise of the angel, offering their bodies as a target so as to prove the truth of their religion. and now for the yarn. the scene is a maori kainga on the east coast of new zealand, date , time of day about a.m. the village, composed of some twenty huts, stands in a clearing surrounded by dense bush, and in the foreground stands the niu, the sacred pole round which the fanatics perform their mad dances and mystic incantations. i said it was a maori kainga; so it had been, though the only maoris at present inside it are perhaps a score, and these lie about very dead indeed. the remainder of its whilom inhabitants have fled away into the depths of the bush and are safe from the pursuit of the strong party of colonial irregulars, who, having, after a long, wearying night's march, surprised and rushed the place at daybreak, are now in occupation of it. these men, having eaten their frugal meal, and worn out by their overnight's march, with the exception of the guard lie around booted and belted and with their carbines by their sides, trying to get what sleep they can, as at any moment they may again be called upon for active service. on the low fence surrounding the niu ring, which is about thirty feet in diameter, the ground within the magic circle being trampled as hard and smooth as stone pavement by the feet of its former worshippers, lounge some half-dozen officers smoking and dozing. the day is a fine one, the sun shines hot, the white men rest, the hau haus, far away in the recesses of the bush, bind up their wounds and talk of utu (revenge). no, not all of them, for the undergrowth parts and out into the clearing strides a big, stark-naked maori, who, without paying the slightest attention to any of the astonished and by now wideawake men, passes through them and, without apparently seeing the group of officers, enters the niu ring, where, after saluting the pole, he prances slowly round it, chanting in a minor key the words: "hau hau, pai marire" (wind, wind, good, peaceful), over and over again. gradually he gets up steam and, paying no attention to the throng of armed enemies who now surround the mystic circle, he cavorts higher and faster, while his monotonous chant is raised to the full gamut of his deep, bass voice. presently he foams at the mouth, his features become distorted, sweat pours through his skin like water, on his hands held rigid his fingers quiver, while with leaps and bounds his stamping feet beat time to the chant of "hau hau, pai marire." how long this exhibition would have continued the lord only knows, for it was brought to a sudden termination by a big scotch presbyterian sergeant, who, being as bigoted as they make them, could not tolerate the ritual of a foreign denomination, so he stepped out of the crowd of men and, as the fanatic devotee pranced past him, he with a leg as brawny as that of a highland stot let fly a kick, at the same time exclaiming: "hae done, ye pagan, wi yer satanic cantrips." out flew the no. boot, which, catching the unfortunate bounder fair and square on the crupper bone, launched him through space till, the momentum being expended, he landed on his nose at the colonel's feet. "get up," quoth the o.c. in maori, at the same time giving the officious non-com. a look that made the ower-guid mon wilt. "now, what made you come here?" the colonel spoke the language like a native, and what he did not know about hau haus was not worth learning, so he was not in the least bit surprised when the somewhat blown native staggered to his feet and answered him in perfect english: "i came here among you to turn you all into stone, and should have done so had not that man, whose head is fit to be boiled, interrupted me." "ah," replied the o.c., "i know you; you assisted nama to torture women and children at poverty bay." "i did," triumphantly exclaimed the fanatic. "sweet is the blood of women and children." (note this fellow had been mission bred and educated, in fact had acted as a lay bible reader.) "ah, is it," growled the colonel. "sergeant o'halloran, detail four men, take this fellow to that tree and do your duty." the sergeant saluted smartly, quickly told off four men, advanced to his prisoner, whose arm he grasped with a shoulder-of-mutton fist, at the same time exclaiming: "come along wid me, ye bloody-minded fanian." a few steps took them to the huge tortara-tree that had been pointed out, against the trunk of which the sergeant, drawing his revolver, placed the hau hau. "and now," said he, "a christian ye were wance, and a bloody pagan ye are now, bad luck to the likes of ye, but ave ye wist to recant and make yer sowl, sure it's foive minutes i'll give ye to make it.--fall in, boys, tin yards forninst us." now no good soldier man, be he regular or irregular, likes to make one of a firing party, told off to shoot a man in cold blood, law or no law, and it is usual in such cases to detail the worst characters in a regiment to perform that obnoxious duty; but when it comes to letting daylight into a fiend who brags of having tortured helpless women and children, then no frontiersman jibs at making one of a party to do so. therefore, no matter how distasteful the job might be to any of the four men told off on this special occasion, they fell in with great alacrity and brought their carbines to the shoulder like one man. "hurry up, ye spalpeen, and make yer sowl," quoth the sergeant. "you can't shoot me," replied the fanatic, "the great gabriel and all his angels protect me; you can't kill me." "nabocklish" (maybe not), answered the imperturbable non-com., "but by the holy poker we'll have a darned good try. will yez call on the blessed saints or not, ye contumacious blaggard?" "hau hau, pai marire," shouted the fanatic, raising his arms, stretching them to the full extent and turning the hands, palms outwards, towards the firing party. "ah, thin ye won't," growled the now somewhat enraged non-com., "thin go to hell yer own way. ready!" "hau hau, pai marire," yelled the fanatic. "present!" ordered the sergeant. "hau hau, pai marire," triumphantly shrieked the maori. "fire!" "hau hau" bang came all together, and the misguided fanatic, smote full in the chest by four sneider bullets, collapsed and fell on his face as dead as julius cæsar. now was that hau hau, blood-stained brute as he undoubtedly was, a martyr or only a bally fool? remember, he had only a few hours previously escaped from out of a sharp fight in which many of his co-religionists had been killed, and after winning through to safety himself he is so strong in his faith that he voluntarily returns alone and unarmed to justify the truth of his conviction, although he well knows he is facing certain death providing he be wrong in his belief. you may call him which or what you please, but i maintain that he is just as much to be enrolled in the army of martyrs as any of the poor devils who were stretched on red-hot gridirons, or were put to death in other unpleasant ways, for testifying to what they believed to be the truth. chapter v a brush with bushrangers (_told by the old identity_) in australia, during the early seventies, bushrangers were still to the fore, who with cattle-thieves and hostile blacks made the squatters on the back blocks keep their eyes skinned, and the banker in the bush townships cash a cheque with one hand, while he kept the other on his revolver. true the mounted police were very good, none better, but, like the british army, there were not enough of them, and the amount of work in covering, protecting and patrolling such enormous areas of country was far beyond what their limited number could properly do. indeed, there are plenty of well-known cases where the bushrangers have overcome the police, handcuffed them in their own station, then stuck up the bank and, after raiding the town, started off on the best horses in the place and disappeared into the bush, not to be heard of again until they bailed up a coach, or stuck up some station, perhaps miles away. well, to get on with my yarn. some six and thirty years ago i was on leave in australia, and was putting in some of it as a guest on a large cattle run and sheep station owned by two old friends of mine who had already become wealthy men, and who owned an enormous number of cattle and sheep. the house, like most of its sort at that time in australia, was built of split slabs of wood, with a shingle roof. it contained four good-sized rooms and a very wide hall running right through it, which was used as a dining-room and lounge. the kitchen and offices were close to, in rear of the house, and the men's quarters, stables, store and outhouses were near by. the whole block of buildings stood in the open, and was surrounded by wire-fenced paddocks, so that no one could approach within a long distance of the house on any side without being seen. my friends' home staff at that time consisted of six white men, all good and to be relied upon, also two china boy-cooks, and a few aborigines (black fellows) who were used as trackers and stock-riders. all of these men were well armed, so that with our three selves we made a garrison quite able to beat off any attack of bushrangers or blacks. i had come up from brisbane with one of the partners to join in mustering semi-wild cattle, cutting them off from the bush by moonlight and driving them into a mob of tame cattle driven along for the purpose, and then forcing them into a run that led to the stockyards, where they would be drafted and disposed of. there is no more exciting work in the world for a good horseman who is well mounted, can use a stock whip, and who puts no excessive value on his neck or bones. the cutting-out was to begin next week, and some of the best of my friends' numerous and splendid stud of horses had been brought in from the paddocks and fed up on hard food, so as to get them into good fettle and wind for the work. at brisbane and all the way up by cob & co.'s coach we had heard plenty of shaves about bushrangers, especially of one gang led by a scoundrel called ginger, who, having been hunted over the border from new south wales, was making things lively in queensland; as if that colony had not sufficient blackguards of her own growth to look after. these shaves were confirmed at the small bush township, where we left the coach, by the solitary trooper in charge there, who informed my companion that the sergeant and other troopers were away on patrol after this bounder. there was no telegraphic communication in those days, and all the information we could get was that ginger's gang consisted of four, or it might be eight, men. so our traps having been placed in a light cart that had been sent for them, we mounted two slashing horses and rode the forty miles to the station, my friend hearing the news from his head stock-rider, named blake, who had brought over the horses. this man, a splendid stamp of a sidney-side colonial, was convinced we should hear more of mr ginger, but feared we should be disappointed in our muster, as our neighbours, having to look after their own homes, would not come in for it. well, we reached the station, and i put in two days very contentedly indeed, picking and trying my horses, selecting a stock-whip and kit, and amusing myself generally, so much so that on the evening of the second day, after a good dinner, when we were sitting smoking under the verandah, i bothered my head not at all about ginger. presently one of my friends looked up and said: "hallo, here's someone coming, and in no end of a hurry too." we looked and saw the township trooper riding as fast as he could get his horse to travel towards us. he reached us and dismounted, giving his pumped-out horse to one of the blacks who had come for it, and took and drank thankfully the proffered drink, then said: "mr--ginger is in the district, and i have been riding since yesterday morning giving the squatters notice to be on the qui vive. i left your station to the last, as the inspector knows you are well armed and your men are to be relied on." "come and have something to eat first and tell your yarn afterwards," quoth my host, and we adjourned to the hall, where, after the trooper had eaten with the appetite of a half-starved dingo, he informed us that ginger had reached the district, sticking up stations on his way, and that the inspector with fifteen men were on his track. he had evidently intended to stick up the township, but the arrival of the police had prevented this, so he disappeared, and the inspector thought he would make the attempt to break south again. he therefore requested my friend for the loan of as many men and horses as he could spare, so as to accompany the trooper and stop a gap called the divide, through which the scoundrels might try to break, and where he promised to meet them, during the next twenty-four hours, but at the same time warned them not to leave their station short-handed, as it was quite possible ginger, close pressed, might try to stick them up so as to steal fresh horses and food. blake was sent for, a short council of war was held and his proposal that himself, two of the white men and two black trackers should accompany the trooper was decided on. "and perhaps," said he, "the captain here would like to come with us; fighting is in his line, and, my word! if we corner ginger we shall have some." now ginger was no business of mine, unless he attacked me; but, being an irishman, i could not let the chance of a fight pass, and although my friends tried to dissuade me, i determined to go. we were to start at midnight, so we who were to go lay down to get what rest we could, leaving the others to get the horses ready for us. at midnight we were roused up, and after swallowing a mug of tea and some food, a hurried glance over my horse and kit, to see that my water-bag was well filled and properly slung to the d's of my saddle, we started. we were all superbly mounted and well armed, each man carrying two revolvers; i would sooner have carried a carbine, but i was dissuaded, and we had cause to regret it. the fight might have finished much sooner had i done as i judged best; but i was in what was to me a foreign country and, having no official status, gave in to the others. so we started, the blacks leading; and they did lead us. no sooner were we clear of the paddock fences than we broke into a canter, and made for a dense line of bushes about five miles off, and just as we reached it the moon went down. i expected to see the blacks pull up and walk their horses, but not a bit of it. on they went at the same pace. the bush was some miles through, but no crow could have crossed it in a straighter line than they did. on reaching the open ground on the other side we halted and dismounted, for a short time, so as to give our steeds a blow. it was now pitch dark, with not even the glimmer of a star, yet no sooner had we mounted than we broke into a canter again, and rode through open park-like country and bush till the east began to lighten, when we pulled up at a small water-hole. this was the spot our guides had aimed for, and it was at least twenty miles from our starting-point, so it will give you some idea of the marvellous abilities of these creatures. to be able to ride twenty miles at a sharp pace, through trackless country, on a dark night, and exactly strike the spot they aimed for, was to me wonderful. it may not strike you so, but try it. we off-saddled, rubbed down, watered and fed our horses out of their nose-bags, then ate some cold mutton and damper, and dozed for a couple of hours, leaving the blacks to keep watch over us and our horses. saddling up again we rode through clumps of bush and up gently rising ground towards a range of heavily bushed mountains, some ten miles off, through which ran the divide, or pass, we were to guard. we halted when we reached the foot of the range, and took cover in a small clump of bush, off-saddled and sent one black on foot to scout the pass and find by the spoor if anyone had crossed it during the last twenty-four hours. of course, being an utter stranger in the land, i knew nothing of the lay of the country, nor even where the pass was; but a rather acrid discussion took place between the stockriders, who declared we were badly posted, and the trooper, who asserted we were not. unable to give an opinion either way, i was lying down with my head on my saddle when we were roused by some shots. i jumped to my feet just in time to see our scout burst out of a clump of bush and run like a hare towards us, closely followed by four mounted men firing at him. they were about yards off, and had i had my carbine i could easily have covered the black, and perhaps have ended the job there and then; but my carbine was like the dutchman's anchor, left at home, so there was nothing to do but throw our saddles on and try to save him. quick and smart as we were, we were too late to save poor tarpot, who was ridden down and riddled. as each of us got into his saddle he charged, and the bushrangers, seeing us coming, turned and galloped back to the bush from which they had issued. i was the fourth to mount, and as i galloped out of the bush i saw the three men in front of me riding in file as hard as they could gallop, with as much as from twenty to thirty yards between them. this was rot; as, if the bushrangers made a stand on reaching their bush, as they were certain to do, they would simply shoot us down from behind cover, one after the other. i therefore shouted to the leading men to rein in and let us get into line; but their blood was up, and on they went. i pulled out to their left, and blake and the remaining black pulled out to my left. we were therefore in extended line, some fifty yards to the left rear of the last man of the leading three who were in file. the distance was short, and as we were all riding like fiends we soon crossed the open ground between the two clumps of bush. the trooper, who was the leading man, was within thirty yards of entering it when i saw him throw up his hands and fall headlong from his horse. in a second no. had done the same, and a moment later no. went down, horse and man. myself and the other two, riding wide of the line of fire, escaped and, although several shots were fired at us, gained the bush unhurt. then, being on equal terms with the bushrangers, we wheeled our horses to the right and rode at them. just at this moment i heard shouts and shots going on close to, at the other side of the bush, but had no time to inquire if it were friends or foes. i spotted a horse's head coming round a tree-trunk, and was ready for the rider. he appeared, and saw me; but i had him already covered, and had the pleasure of seeing him lurch out of his saddle and come a heavy crumpler. my mates were alongside of me, and we were just going after another bounder, whose horse's hindquarters were disappearing, when an officer and three troopers broke out on us, and called on us to bail up. in less than a minute we explained who we were, and i was just starting off after the fugitives when the officer called on me to halt, and in a rather haughty manner informed me that he was in command of the party, and that he intended to halt until he had collected his scattered men, some of whom were wounded. as he only stated the truth, i was not such a fool as to feel offended with him, so i went with blake to see if anything could be done for our fallen mates. the trooper and the first stockman were both dead, the third man was unwounded, but his horse had been killed, and he had been knocked stiff and silly by the heavy fall. however, after some water and a stiff nip he was soon all right, and swearing he would make the blank-blank-blankety-blank bounders who had killed his pet stock horse and his mate sit up. we quickly caught the loose horses and were soon joined by the officer and his troopers, who were a very fine, smart-looking crowd, but, to my mind, far too big and too heavy for this sort of game. they had two of their number badly wounded, but had wounded and captured three bushrangers, so that, with the one i had put out of mess, ginger could now have only three men with him. the officer, therefore, determined to follow their spoor with our party and four of his own men. messengers were despatched to other patrols and to the nearest station to obtain a conveyance for the wounded men, and we started under the guidance of jampot, our remaining black. "do you think he will be able to track them?" i asked blake. "my word," he replied, "jampot has now a blood feud against ginger, and will follow him to the death. ginger may turn and twist how he likes, but unless he can grow wings, or kill jampot, jampot will kill him." i had seen plenty of tracking in my time--i even had the cheek to fancy myself a bit at it--and had seen good work done both by white men and maoris. i had even seen a tame black fellow after stray cattle; but i was now to see a real warrior black, with a blood feud, at the game. i expected a great deal, and i was not disappointed--in fact i saw more than i had ever imagined to be possible. well, we were ready to start. jampot had made use of the time in transmogrifying himself into a fiend, and he certainly looked a hideous nightmare in his war paint. jumping on his horse, he rode to the end of the bush, circled once or twice to take note of the different spoors, then broke into a canter and rode nearly due south. mile after mile he kept on, over all sorts of ground, through bush and over hard land, never pausing for an instant. "do you mean to tell me that that black fellow can see spoor going at this pace and over such ground as we are now on?" said i to blake. he only nodded his head and muttered: "my word!" this is a great australian expression, and will signify almost anything. we came to a creek, and jampot was off his horse in a second and was examining the rocks round the water-holes. all at once he held up his hand; blake and myself went carefully to him. blake and he talked gibberish for a minute, then, turning to me, the former said: "jampot tells me one of them is badly hit and can't go far." "how on earth does he know that?" "he has seen blood on the trail and can tell by the tracks on these rocks." "tracks?" i said. "where are they?" he spoke to jampot, who immediately put his finger on several places on the rocks. i examined the spots closely, but could see nothing, not even when i used a prospecting-glass i had in my pocket. yet this marvellous savage could distinguish spoor with his naked eye, and had spotted blood-marks on the trail while going at a smart canter in blazing sunshine, where i could only now and then just barely see hoof-marks. jampot was now very keen to go on, so after we had given our horses a blow and a few go-downs of water it was a case of mount and canter. away we went, jampot leading; but now he went slower, and occasionally swerved from his line, bending down and regarding the ground intently. we had only gone a couple of miles or so when he turned in his saddle and, with a grin on his face a fiend would have envied, pointed at a small clump of bushes to his right front, and made directly for them. drawing our revolvers, we followed, to find him dismounted, bending over the body of a dead man. he was a fine-looking, clean-built young fellow, and seemed far too good for the game he had been playing. but there was no time for moralising; so, preventing jampot from mutilating the remains, we again mounted, broke into a canter, and went on. the weight they carried had now begun to tell on the troopers' horses, and they showed signs of having had enough of it: and presently we came to a dead horse. he had been wantonly shot, and it made my blood boil to see the poor brute lie there. we were now approaching a long bare line of hills, and suddenly jampot let a yell out of him and pointed at them. i unslung my field-glasses, and could see three men, dismounted, leading their horses, nearly at the top of the range, and about three miles in front of us. we at once gave our horses the spur and went for them. they reached the summit, paused for a minute or two to give their horses a blow, mounted and disappeared over the sky-line. we reached the hill, jumped off, and hurried up it, leading our horses; but the gallop had finished the troopers' nags, and when we got to the top the officer found, with the exception of my party, he was alone. his horse was done, and even the hard-fed, splendid mounts of myself and mates had begun to show symptoms of distress. quickly unscrewing the top of my flask, i emptied the spirits into my water-bag, and forced my horse to drink the contents. my comrades immediately followed my example and the noble beasts soon bucked up. in the meantime the sergeant had reached the top, and with the officer and blake held a consultation as to where we were, jampot being called on to assist. he spoke to blake, who turned round and ejaculated: "my word, those hounds are making for edwards' station. it's only six miles off. the men are away; there are women and children there, and fresh horses." the officer at once said to me: "you and your party are the best mounted and the lightest weights. jampot may be able to take you a short cut. ride like fury. you may be just in time, and if it comes to fighting you know all about that; but on no account leave there till i come." he said something more about not letting the bushrangers get fresh horses; but his words of wisdom were left behind us, for we were off, and i had the wildest ride i ever had in my life. the slope of the hill was steep and rough, but we tore down it at full pace. our horses, maddened with the spur, almost seemed to fly, clearing rocks and fallen timber as if they were simply straws, while we, rendered desperate by the thought of the danger of the women and children, urged them on with voice and spur, though we wisely gave them their heads and let their mouths alone. they were all bush-bred horses, knew their work and did it without a fault or fall, which would have been certain death to both man and beast. well, we came to the foot of the hill and each man, taking his own line, although jampot still led, galloped through the bush, every man riding all he knew. soon we came to the open and saw the house; yes, and we saw something else, for in front of it stood three knocked-up horses with hanging heads. a paddock with a heavy post-and-rail fence lay between us, so, catching hold of our horses' heads, we sent them at it. over we went, in line, and charged for the house, a woman's scream causing us, if possible, to put on pace. just then we saw a man coming from the stable leading three horses, and he saw us at the same time. our appearance, from an unexpected direction, must have rattled him a bit. the horses he led, excited by the sound of our galloping hoofs, became restive and started plunging, so he let them go as blake rode for him. i heard the pistol shots, but could pay no attention, as out from the french windows rushed two men. they made for the horses, then, seeing they had no chance, turned and opened fire on us. the man nearest me had a big red beard, and i knew he must be ginger, so i rode at him. jampot rode at him too, firing as fast as he could; and this most likely upset ginger's aim as, although i heard bullets whistle past me as i lay on my horse's neck, i was unwounded. when i was within twenty yards of him i fired twice and circled left, so as not to crash into the house. both shots took effect. he fell, and was still trying to cover me when jampot, jumping off his horse, rushed up to him and shot him through the head. blake now joined us, slightly wounded, having accounted for his man, and we found our other mate on the ground badly hurt; he had succeeded in also dropping his man, who, preferring to be hung instead of shot, surrendered. i entered the house and found the ladies unhurt but badly frightened. they, however, with the self-control and handiness of colonial women, at once set to work to tend the wounded. jampot was still amusing himself with the remains of ginger, but, as it is against my principles to allow heathen ceremonies to be performed on a white man, no matter how big a blackguard he has been, i made him desist and help me to look after the horses, the real heroes of the play. the china boy-cook came out of his hiding-place and started to cook huge supplies of food for ourselves and the troopers, who turned up soon afterwards. a swim in a water-hole, a good dinner, a long sleep, and on the following morning myself, blake and jampot returned home. chapter vi the scout that failed (_told by the kia tangata_) scouting, like every other sort of business, has its ups and downs, and a scout may often fail to obtain the information he has gone out to gain, through no fault of his own. he may even lose the number of his mess, be captured, or have to ride or run for his life, notwithstanding the fact that he has played the right game from the start, until something happens, and he fails, frequently through bad luck, or because the vigilance of the enemy renders it impossible to achieve success. it has been my lot, as it has been the lot of many a better man, to fail frequently while scouting, and on more than one occasion i have been spotted by the enemy and have had to ride or run hard to save my bacon, without completing the duty on which i had been despatched. a yarn about one of these occasions may amuse you, although there is but little information as regards scouting in it. it was in the year that we were after te kooti and the rebel hau haus in the taupo district, and were building a chain of forts from napier to lake taupo, so as to cut off the uriwera and east-coast hau haus from the king country and taupo rebels. lake taupo is a huge expanse of water on the high plateau in the centre of the north island of new zealand, and is fed by many rivers, creeks and boiling springs; but there is only one outlet to drain off its superfluous water, and this is called the river waikato, which debouches out of the north-east corner of the lake in a deep and very rapid stream, running east, then bends north and north-west, forming a big bow; then turning to the north it eventually makes a sharp turn to the west, and flows into the pacific ocean south of manakau harbour. this river, fed as it is from the big lake and also by innumerable tributaries, is, although not very broad, a most dangerous one to cross, especially while it is descending from the high plateau, as it either rushes through high banks or tumbles in foaming cataracts among large rocks until at last, as if tired with its exertions, it becomes a well-behaved, navigable river, and forms what was in early times one of the only roads into the interior of new zealand; but during its whole course from the lake to the ocean it is a dangerous one to play with. on the precipitous south bank of this river, some yards from the lake, we were, in , building a redoubt called tapuaeharuru (the place of sounding footsteps), and it was from this fort that i was ordered to ride to te-niho-te-kiori (the rat's tooth), an enormous pinnacle of rock that springs from the ground just where the river starts on its long flow to the north. i was therefore, as it were, to ride along the string of a bent bow and, if successful in reaching this rock, to try and open communications with another column supposed to be in its vicinity. it was not what some people might call a safe journey: road there was none, and the route i had to take was through country that, although it could not be called mountainous nor thickly bushed, was covered with manuka scrub and wire grass, with here and there a clump of heavy timber, while an occasional column of snowwhite steam, rising into the air, denoted a boiling spring. these columns were of different magnitude, and as i knew which side of the river the principal geysers were on, and their situation, as seen from the river and fort, they proved most useful landmarks to me later on in the day. at daybreak one lovely morning i plumped my saddle into a canoe and was ferried across the stream, my horse swimming astern, and on gaining the bank, after drying his back, i carefully saddled-up, lit my pipe and, with a cheery "so long" to the men who had paddled me over, mounted and rode away. as soon as i was out of rifle-range of the camp i was in no man's land, and every native i met would be an enemy. i had twenty-five miles to ride to get to the rat's tooth, and had to depend entirely on my own wit and the good qualities of my horse to save my hair, in case i fell across any parties of wandering hau haus. my orders also directed me to look out for any signs of the enemy, and in case i cut a spoor i was to prospect it and try to ascertain if it were the track of a taua (war party) or not. the horse i rode was indeed a noble brute. standing fifteen hands, he possessed every quality that a scout's horse should. not only was he very well bred, fast and strong, but he combined the manners of a lady with the courage of the lion, could scramble like a cat and swim like a fish; and all these qualities he was destined to display before that day was over. as, if possible, i was to return the same day, i rode light, carrying nothing on my saddle except half-a-feed for my horse and a couple of biscuits for myself. i wore neither tunic nor sword, but carried a carbine, with the usual revolver and knife, while my dress consisted only of a smasher hat, shirt, breeches and boots, with very short-necked spurs. "there is nothing half so sweet in life as love's young dream," sings the poet, but i'll gamble that a smart canter on a high-bred, free-going horse beats dreaming all to fits, and is much better for you. anyhow i thoroughly enjoyed the first part of that ride through the sharp, clear air, notwithstanding that i had to keep every sense on deck, and my thoughts, concentrated by looking out for an enemy or for hostile spoor, were occupied with far sterner matters than love or dalliance. for the first six miles or so i made good progress, the ground being fairly open and the obstacles quite insignificant; but then i reached a part where a chain of heavily bushed hills ran on my left hand for some miles, the river being six miles to my right. the pumice-stone flat over which i was riding was here much cut up by gullies running from the hills to the river; some of them containing creeks, the remainder being dry, but all of them with nearly perpendicular sides, which, except in places, were not to be negotiated by horse or man. as the depth of them varied so did the direction, some of them running into one another, while the others ran direct to the river. these i had to cross, and it was very nasty, dangerous work, in more ways than one. first of all i had to look for a place where my horse could descend into the bed of the gully, at the same time looking out for a place on the other side up which we could scramble. this took time, as occasionally i had to ride a considerable distance up or down the edge before i could find a place suitable either to descend or to get out again; and it would have been an act of madness for me to have gone down into one of these ravines without having spotted a way of getting out again. yet, at the same time, cross them i must. again i had to make mental notes of every crossing, and take bearings, so that i should remember each gully and how to get back. i never forgot for a moment i was in an enemy's country and that perhaps my return journey might be expedited by a taua; besides, i had to keep my eyes open for an ambush, as it was quite possible i had already been spotted from the hills, among which many hau haus might be lurking, as the maoris always make their plantations in the bush. i had crossed some ten of these gullies when i came to a very big one, about forty feet deep and perhaps fifty yards broad. with trouble i could get down into this, but could not see, although i rode a considerable distance along its edge, any way of getting out on the other side. there was, however, another gully running into it that apparently took a northerly direction--the way i wanted to go--and if i entered this one and followed it i might be able to regain the level of the plain farther on. it was a very grave risk to run, but it was a case of hobson's choice, that or none; so, after a long look at the hills, to see if i could spot any signs of danger from them, i hardened my heart, descended with a nasty scramble and made for the entrance of the gully i had seen from the plain. i had no sooner reached the mouth of it than i reined up sharply, for there, clearly defined, and not twenty-four hours old, were the tracks of at least twenty, perhaps thirty, horses that, coming from the north, had turned to the right on reaching the big gully and proceeded towards the hills. as there was no spoor returning, it was evident that a number of the enemy must be located in their bushed recesses, and, in case they should have spotted me, they would most certainly do their best to cut me off. yet, as their horses had used the gully, there must be a way out of it, and if i made a push for it i could take advantage of it to regain the level of the plain; anyhow it was no use staying where i was. i must go back, or go on. naturally, i was keen to complete my duty; so as soon as i had taken a good look at my carbine and revolver i entered the gully and rode forward at a steady pace. for nearly a mile it ran with a few bends due north, the bottom of it being smooth and the sides perpendicular. then the bed began to rise with a gentle slope, until it eventually rose to the level of the plain. its width was in no place more than ten yards across, and it had been formed by some convulsion of nature that had caused the surface to sink, and it looked as if it had been gouged out of the earth. there are plenty of these freaks of nature on the taupo and kaingaroa plains, sometimes like the one i was in, accessible at the ends, and others with precipitous sides all round. well, i had just got to where the gradual slope began when i heard a row behind me and, looking round, saw over twenty natives riding as hard as they could in pursuit. they were still some yards away, and as soon as they saw i had spotted them they started yelling like over-tortured fiends. it was certainly time for me to hump myself, and i increased my pace so as to put a greater distance between us, while i rapidly thought out the best plan to shake off this undesirable company. had i been on open ground i should have regarded the contretemps with placidity, and perhaps have enjoyed picking off a few of these howling sinners, but, mixed up as i was among the network of vile gullies, it was no joke, and the sun was on their side of the hedge. the only feasible plan i could think of, was to follow the enemy's own tracks, as where they had travelled with horses so could i, until i was clear of these confounded gullies. you must remember i was quite ignorant of this part of the country, never having crossed the river before, and only knowing that if i kept due north i should cut the river; and on its banks was the rat's tooth i had to find. the hau haus, on the other hand, would know the country, and all the spots where they could cross the gullies thoroughly, and would, of course, try to cut me off. with these fiends in pursuit i should have no time to look for crossing-places whenever i came across a ravine, and i was sure these existed as far as the range of hills, which still extended for some miles on my left, ran. therefore i must follow the natives' spoor, so as to strike their crossing-places, and make use of them. of course i might fall in with a fresh gang of hau haus, but i had to risk that; needs must when the devil drives; and although i had not old nick behind me in _propriâ personâ_, yet those who were, so remarkably resembled him as to quite make up by quantity any deficiency they lacked in quality. i had not the least fear, bar accidents, of their being able to catch me by riding me down, as my hard-fed, splendid-conditioned horse for pace and staying powers was far and away superior to their half-starved, grass-fed nags; and even if they had a good animal or two, looted from settlers, among them, yet these would have so deteriorated in their brutal hands as to be quite unfit to cope with my gallant mount; besides, in a long chase, like this might be, riding and handling would count a lot, and even if one or two did press me i could back my carbine against their guns, as a maori is a vile shot. all these thoughts passed through my brain during the few minutes i was galloping along the gully and gradually ascending to the level of the plain. but bobby burns speaks the truth when he remarks that the schemes of both mice and men are liable to go crooked; for my hastily and maybe well-thought-out plan was all blown to blue blazes the moment i emerged from the gully, as it was all i could do to swing my horse to the right to prevent riding slap-bang into a big gang of maoris, some of whom were mounted. this party were making for the entry i had just left, for as i shot out of it the nearest of them was within ten yards of me. they straggled in a diagonal line, about yards long, across to what was evidently the outlet to another gully, as in the hurried glance i took of them i saw a horseman emerging as if from the ground. the presence of these bounders, although not exactly astonishing, was most undesirable, and i sent my horse along, so as to escape nearer acquaintance with them; nor did they seem to be quite pleased with me, as they all started yelling like fiends, and those who carried their fire-locks capped at once fired them off in my direction, while with one accord they all began to chase me. it was high time for me to get out of that, but my horse's pace soon carried me clear out of gun-shot danger, and i quickly edged away to my left to try and find, when i reached the gully, which i knew must be close in that direction, a crossing-place, so that i could get round the enemy's flank and still carry out my duty. one thing i was sure of, the hau haus would never give up the pursuit so long as there was the ghost of a chance of catching me. as i expected, i soon came to a ravine running east, towards the river, and at the first glance saw that it was a teaser. over twenty feet in depth, its sides, composed of hard pumice-stone, were quite perpendicular and unnegotiable, even by a monkey. i therefore had to continue along the brink, while a loud, jeering yell made me understand that the natives well knew there was no possibility of my being able to cross it. i was annoyed, more than annoyed, and i determined to solace myself by picking off one of the hilarious bounders, but decided first of all to try the other flank. letting my horse go, i again crossed, diagonally, the enemy's front, only to find myself, after a gallop of not more than yards, brought up by a similar gully. again the jeering yell broke out, and i knew i was cornered between these infernal ravines and the waikato river. i halted and turned so as to take a good look at the pursuing hau haus, and determined to make it hot for the leading man, but was sold again, as i found they had extended in line between the two ravines. they were over a hundred in number, including at least forty mounted men, these latter being scattered among the footmen, with the exception of some eight or ten, who rode together about a hundred yards in rear of the line, with the evident intention of strengthening any part of it, should i charge and try to break through. this for a moment i thought of doing, but on looking towards the spots where the only two outlets i knew of were situated, i saw clumps of men stationed at them, so i was convinced it was no use charging, at least not at this period of the game. the deliberate way the hau haus were advancing showed me that they knew it was impossible for me to break away to either flank, and that they were systematically going to pen me up against the river and try to capture me alive. this i determined they should not do; somehow i was convinced that my day had not yet come, and i had such an inner conviction i was going to wriggle out of my scrape that i felt quite easy about myself and only anxious about my horse. the moment i halted the enemy began to poke fun at me. one shouted: "get fins, like a fish, for yourself and horse, then swim the river." another wag roared out: "grow wings like a pigeon and fly back to your home." this was advice which, although not solicited, could scarcely be called rude. but another ribald ruffian was not only rude but grossly personal, for, running out in front of the line, he howled out, with the most insulting gestures: "render yourself up to us; the women are making ready the ovens, and i hunger for your flesh." i shouted back, and my voice carried far in those days: "you whose head is fit to be boiled" (the most awful insult in the maori tongue), "thou at least shalt not partake of the feast; go feed on the spirits of your fathers." the old sneider carbine, though laughed at nowadays, was true up to yards, and the maori was not more than yards from me. he had just begun to make some nasty, uncalled-for remarks when i proved the correctness of my prophecy to him, by dropping him in his tracks, thereby cutting short what might have been a most eloquent oration. a wild yell with a wilder volley answered my shot, and the line made a kokiri (short charge) in my direction. i only lingered long enough to shout in maori, "i have caught the first man" (a most important and lucky omen in maori warfare), then turned and cantered away out of rifle-range, as it would never do to have my horse wounded. it was high time i should put on my considering cap and think out the situation and my future movements. it would have been far more to my advantage had they followed me in a straggling mob, as then i could have picked off the leaders, and it would have denoted anxiety, on their part, lest i should find some possible crossing by which i could escape; but the quiet, methodical way they were going about their business showed me that they considered my chance of getting away was nil, and that they had made up their minds to risk nothing, that the gullies could not be crossed, so that their intention was to drive me before them to the river's bank, and hive me there at their own convenience, the river being uncrossable. but halt! was the river uncrossable? i knew it to be a very dangerous one, even for such swimmers as my horse and self, who together had crossed many a bad river before; but i was also aware that the natives' great dread of it was caused by superstitious nervousness, just as much as it was caused by its actual dangers. of course there were very many parts of it quite impossible, but perhaps i might find a place where a determined attempt would have a chance of success. anyhow i would go and have a look at it. the river was not more than three miles from me and i cantered steadily towards it, so as not to tire my horse, but still give me time to examine the banks and select the best places to enter, and get out of it, provided i should make up my mind to risk the crossing. it did not take me long to reach the bank, and i rode along it from one gully to the other. both of these ran down to the water's edge, and the bank of the river near both of them was fully twenty feet high, and perpendicular; but half-way between them was a natural depression in the plain, that ran at a gentle slope down to the bank, where it was only four or five feet above the water, which was very deep right up to the bank. this depression slanted upstream, a point in my favour, and this was evidently the place i must take-off from. the river was indeed a noble one, quite yards broad, and evidently of great depth. its enormous volume of water, forcing itself along, confined by the high banks, reminded me of a big fat boy buttoned up tight in a suit of clothes far too small for him, wriggling and writhing about, trying to make them more comfortable. i next turned my attention to the other side, to see if i could spot a place up which we could scramble. the far bank, though lower than the one i was on, was still very steep, and i knew there must be a great depth of water under it; but some yards downstream the land ran out to a point, and there was just the possibility of my horse finding footing there. the current also seemed to set from my side of the river towards this point, and if so it would help me enormously. i tested this by tearing off a branch from a bush and throwing it in, when i saw it rapidly swept towards the spot i hoped to make. the rate at which it was carried also gave me some idea of the tremendous rush of water, the surface of which seemed to writhe and winkle as if in mortal anguish, while the numerous whirlpools informed me what a furious undertow there must be. great was the risk we should run in attempting to cross, yet under the circumstances i determined to run it. i felt certain i was not going under that day, and anyhow a clean death in the sweet, cool water of the river was far preferable to being turned into long pig by my brutal pursuers. then again they might kill my horse and catch me with sufficient life remaining in me to make it worth their trouble to torture it out of me. no fear, i wanted none of that; the river was my dart, especially as my old nurse had always assured me of quite another kind of death than drowning, and, sure, she was known in my part of the world as a knowledgable woman. the few minutes i had sat and watched the stream at the taking-off place, i had talked to and explained matters to my glorious horse. what's that you say? a horse can't understand you? rot! you taxi-cab, motor-busing new chum. a horse you have treated as a pal, and not as a slave, will understand any simple matter you explain to him, far better than the ordinary englishman can understand the beauties of tariff reform. bear that in mind, you mud-splashing, dust-creating greenhorn, if you ever want to become worth your salt on the frontier. anyhow, my horse understood me, and i rode up to the plain again. the hau haus were not far off, and when they saw me regain the level they evidently thought i had funked the river and was going to try to escape on terra firma, for they saluted me with loud laughter and jeers. unbuckling my wallet straps, for i had them on my saddle, although i had left the wallets themselves behind me, i carefully fastened my carbine across the pommel of the saddle and also crossed the stirrups. then, as a farewell to my pursuers, i shouted: "o ye slaves and dogs, i go to bathe in the waikato; come with me, if ye be not afraid." i turned my horse and, gripping my saddle, with thighs and legs like a vice, i started at a canter down the slope, increasing my pace and urging him on with my voice, until at last we charged the river at full gallop. the noble animal knew well what i expected from him, for as soon as i gave him his head he pointed his ears and, gathering himself together at every bound, without a swerve, the slightest balk, or the least hesitation, measured his take-off to a nicety, and leaped far out into the air. i was quite prepared for the plunge. i had twisted my hand well into his mane, and had taken a deep breath as we made the spring. i felt the rush through the air, and saw the shining water below us, that seemed to rise and meet us, but i felt no shock; for although we must have raised the deuce of a splash, and must have sunk somewhat, yet we seemed to come to the surface immediately, and the first sensation i noticed was the current tugging at me, as if trying to pull me out of my saddle. we had taken the water exactly as i hoped we should do--that is, with the horse's head turned well upstream--so that the tremendous force of the current, although it swept us rapidly downstream, yet carried us diagonally across it. my horse was swimming deep but magnificently, and was not a bit flurried or nervous, and although the current kept tugging at me i had small trouble in retaining my seat, while i eased him in every way i could, talking to him and encouraging him the whole passage. the crossing seemed to take but a very short time, and i saw we should reach the bank above the point. i was very glad of this, as the current ran round the point like a mill sluice, and i did not know how it set on the other side, or what sort of a bank there was round it. we neared the shore, and i turned the good nag's head towards it, for him to make his effort, but feared the water would be too deep, as although the bank sloped, yet from the water it looked very, very steep. just as we reached it i felt the noble animal give a tremendous heave, with a mighty rearing plunge; his hind feet must have touched bottom, for he landed with both fore feet on the bank. like a flash i was over his withers, taking the reins with me, and scrambled to my feet on the slope. it was with difficulty i could keep my footing, but i managed somehow, and, tugging at the reins, i shouted his name and encouraged him all i knew. gathering himself together, he made another tremendous spring and, with me scrambling in front of him, in a few bounds he reached the top, where i lavished much praise and many endearments on him, these being cut short by the song of an enfield bullet as it whistled over us; so i led him under cover, loosed his girths, unbuckled my carbine and returned at once to the bank. we had crossed, they might try, and as i had had more of their company than i desired, i intended my carbine to dissuade them; i examined its breech and found that, notwithstanding its bath, it was in good working order, so that was all right. my appearance was greeted with yells, a straggling volley and a frantic war-dance. i never lack in politeness, so, to return their compliments, i danced a step or two myself, shouting, "come to me, come to me"; then, dropping to a prone position, i took careful aim at a johnny who was executing a _pas seul_. my shot spoiled his performance, for he sat down suddenly and was quickly removed by his friends. i have heard that actors retire gracefully from the stage when the gods express their disapproval by heaving defunct cats and doubtful eggs at them, but i should think they would greatly expedite their movements if a man opened out with a carbine. yes, they would quickly leave a clear stage; at least it was so in this case, as the company i disapproved of, cutting their dances short, dispersed in a moment, taking their wounded man with them, and hastened in their exits by two more bullets, both of which, i fancy, touched meat. the hau haus having retired, i returned to my horse, removed the saddle and gave him a good rub-down with a handful of fern; then we lunched together. his oats were none the worse for their ducking, while my biscuits, if pulpy, were palatable, and we enjoyed them. the sun quickly dried me and we made for home. there was no chance of reaching the rat's tooth from the side i was on; besides, i considered it my duty to inform my colonel of the presence of the maoris. another thing, what were they doing there? i suspected they had large plantations of potatoes in that bush, and that when they blundered up against me they were on their way to dig them up and had brought their horses to carry them away on. if my conjectures were right, i now knew where to find them. after a hard, scrambling journey over fern ridges we reached the fort, and i reported to the colonel, who babbled a bit at my failure to complete my duty, but was quite pacified when i told him my conjectures about the potatoes. he was not an irishman, true, but he dearly loved a spud, and if my ideas about them turned out correct, the capture of these potatoes would be of enormous value to us, as the government were at their wits' end how to keep us and our horses supplied with rations, while the loss of them, to the enemy, would be very severe. that night a strong force, on foot, under my guidance, crossed the river and made for the big gully where i had first seen the spoor. we made a smart night's march, hoping to surprise the enemy and catch them on the hop. in that we failed, their outposts being well on the alert; but in the ensuing skirmish we killed a few of them, captured all their horses and an immense quantity of potatoes, large numbers of these having been already dug up and packed ready for transport, so that my friends the hau haus had worked hard for nothing, except our benefit, and i felt very pleased. was i spiteful? i wonder. but somehow, now i have spun the yarn out, something seems to have gone wrong with it; for when i come to look at the heading it distinctly states that the tale is to be a yarn about the scout that failed. and now i come to think it over, i was really not scouting at all, but only trying to open communications with another column, though to do that is certainly the work of a scout, and i moreover was a scout, but yet i was not scouting. then as to failure. sure if i did fail to find the rat's tooth, faith! i found the spuds. therefore the title is a misnomer or i've put the wrong yarn to the right title, or the wrong title to the right yarn, but anyhow, failure or not, you've the yarn, so digest it and make the best of it, as we did the potatoes; and i assure you there was no failure about them. and as now this finale has bothered me as much as those confounded gullies did, i must confess that after partaking of perhaps too many of those spuds, and very good they were, i broke out into poetry in honour of my glorious horse. i will only give you one verse, so don't run away: "a man may love a bow-wow, or a man may love a girl, he may prate on points of pedigree, or rave about a curl, but a trooper can love both of these, in a tiny way of course, for most of his affections are lavished on his horse. oh, some men love a steamer yacht, and some love jaunting cars, and i hear that in a big balloon men soon will visit mars; but here's a toast you all must drink, refuse it if you can, a health to the noble warhorse, god's greatest gift to man." don't throw pannikins at me, but blame potatoes and ration rum taken on an empty stomach. good-night. chapter vii some miraculous escapes i have known "there's a sweet little cherub who sits up aloft and looks after the life of poor jack." dibdin. by miraculous escapes i mean those escapes from death that have been entirely engineered by the power above, who has preserved the life of human beings when they were utterly helpless, and who, for some inscrutable reason, saves one life and allows others to be destroyed. the yarns i am now going to spin will illustrate, i think, what i have written above. about midnight on th september a new zealand field force, under the command of colonel mcdonnell, consisting of white men and friendly natives, left camp, crossed the deep, rapid and icy-cold river waingongora, and started to attack tetokowaru in his stronghold te-ngutu-o-te-manu. i am not going to inflict on you the miserable yarn of the unfortunate fight, as i have written it elsewhere; suffice it to say that the great majority of the white men were untrained new chums, and that over of them bolted at the first volley. the remainder stood their ground, although they refused to extend; so we lost one-third of our number, killed and wounded, in less than a quarter of an hour, and had to retreat, leaving our dead and many wounded men behind us. so that you can understand the position of affairs, i may tell you that colonel mcdonnell, retaining the command of of the white men, had sent the remaining under major von tempsky, to act on the right of his own party, and, as soon as he saw that nothing but a retreat could save the remainder of his force, he sent captain mcdonnell, his brother, to von tempsky with orders for the major to retreat at once, and join up with his own party. this order was delivered, but a few seconds later the major was shot dead. captain mcdonnell then gave the order to captain buck, who promised to carry it out. captain mcdonnell returned to his brother, and the retreat began. instead of immediately obeying the order, captain buck endeavoured to recover the major's body, and was at once shot dead, without having passed the order on to anyone else. the next senior officer, captain roberts, took command of the party; but, as he was ignorant of the order to retreat, he still continued to hold his ground, until he was informed by some of his men that the colonel had retreated. joined by a few friendly natives, he retired by another route, and led the remains of his shattered and worn-out party into camp next morning. having given you a rough idea how things stood with our men on the afternoon of the th (please remember the date), i will now start the yarn. it was late in the afternoon when captain roberts began his retreat, pursued by a party of hau haus. his men, nearly all new chums, behaved badly; but with a few good men, and the friendly natives who had joined him, he kept the enemy at bay till nightfall, when they drew off. now among his party he had a man named dore, one of the wellington rangers, and a new chum. this poor fellow had his arm, just below the shoulder, smashed to pieces by a bullet, fell, fainted from loss of blood, and was abandoned. when he came to, he found himself stripped of everything, with the exception of his tattered and blood-stained shirt. he must have been discovered by the pursuing hau haus, who had evidently thought him dead, but who, although they stripped him, forbore to tomahawk him or mutilate his body. this in itself was a marvel, and shows that that sweet little cherub must have taken his case in hand, as, with one other exception, the hau haus were never known to omit tomahawking and mutilating a dead body. the poor chap hid in a hollow rata-tree, and when it was quite dark attempted to find his way back to camp. he, however, was a new chum, knew nothing of bush work, and consequently lost his way, wandering in a circle, and always returning to the vicinity of the blood-stained pah and ferocious hau haus. this he continued to do for three days; but on the evening of the th he managed to get out of the bush into the open country, and made for the camp. all this time he had been without a bite of food, with a severe raw wound, with only the fragment of a shirt to protect him against the icy-cold sleet and frost, and although all that time in the close vicinity of the hau hau pah, he miraculously escaped being spotted. as i said before, on the evening of the th he found himself in the open country, and struck out for the drift across the flooded waingongora river. he remembered reaching it, then lost recollection. how he crossed that drift, a very bad one even for a strong and healthy man to tackle alone, is more than a miracle; but he always asserted he was fired on while doing so, and fainted on reaching the bank. here he was only two miles from the camp; but his mind became a blank, for he wandered about till the evening of the th, when he was discovered by a patrol, coming out of a clump of bush, and he was brought into camp. now, just consider for a moment what this man dore went through, and what awful dangers he escaped. badly wounded and found by the most savage fanatics on the earth, yet, against their custom, they neither tomahawk nor mutilate him. then he wanders for over five days, through bitter frost and cold, with an open and untended wound; he escapes the notice of the enemy, crosses, while weak from the loss of blood, starvation and pain, a most dangerous river, and yet, when brought into camp, his wound heals long before those of men who are not nearly so badly hurt, and who have not been through his awful experiences. you may call it luck. i maintain it was the work of that sweet little cherub, who, for his own reasons, "bossed up the whole show!" in many of my yarns i have mentioned the massacre at poverty bay that was engineered by that arch-devil, te kooti, and his gang of fiends, called hau haus. on th july te kooti and some hau haus landed at whare-onga-onga, having escaped from the chatham islands. they had overpowered the guard there, seized the schooner _rifleman_, forced the crew to sail them to poverty bay, and had landed some fifteen miles south of the white settlements. owing to the criminal negligence of the government, who, because they wished for peace, persuaded themselves they had got it, the defence force had been disbanded, and even the arms and ammunition removed from the adjacent districts, so that the settlers were almost helpless, while te kooti was soon joined by all the restless fanatics in the country. major biggs, who was in charge of the poverty bay district, made head against te kooti, with whatever men and arms he could scrape together, but with small success. he was also guilty of an unpardonable piece of folly, as he allowed the settlers to remain on their scattered homesteads, and delayed collecting them together for mutual support, although warned to do so by friendly natives, who offered to assist in building defensive works. for this delay he paid dearly, as he and the whole of his family were surprised and, with the exception of one boy, brutally murdered. it was on the night of th november that te kooti made his raid on poverty bay. on that night captain wilson, second in command, was sitting in his house writing, when a party of hau haus, under a fiend called nama, knocked at the door and informed him they had a letter for him from hirini-te-kani, the head chief of the district. the captain, however, had his suspicions, and told them to pass the letter under the door, at the same time arming himself and calling his servant moran to come to his assistance. moran slept in an outhouse; but he succeeded in breaking through the enemy, and joined his master. the hau haus, seeing they could not deceive the captain, tried to force the door open with the trunk of a tree. the captain at once opened fire on them, and forced them to drop it; so they then set fire to the house. the white men fought on until the house was in full flare, when captain wilson accepted the hau hau offer of life for himself and family, provided he surrendered. it was a choice of that, or being all burned alive; and as there was a slight possibility of the hau haus keeping their promise, captain wilson surrendered. carrying a little boy in his arms, and followed by his wife and moran, with the other children, three in number, if i remember rightly, they were surrounded by the hau haus, who led them towards the river. _en route_ he asked one of the natives where they were being taken to, and was at once shot, from behind, through the back. staggering to a bit of manuka scrub, the captain threw the child into it, telling him to run, and in the confusion the youngster was not noticed and hid in the scrub. at the same moment moran was tomahawked, and mrs wilson and the children were savagely treated, bayoneted and left for dead. the children were dead, but mrs wilson still lived. te kooti and his gang remained in the settlement till the morning of the th--mark the date--plundering and murdering all the women and children who had escaped the night of the th, and whom his men found in hiding. on the afternoon of the th a small patrol from tauranganui visited the blood-stained settlement and found little james wilson hidden with a dog in his arms. the boy told them how he was trying to get to tauranganui to bring help for his mother, who was lying wounded in an outhouse at their late home, but he had lost his way. as well as he could, poor child, he also described his miraculous escape. he had hid in the scrub, but next day came back to the spot where his family had been murdered. here he found the bodies of his father, his brothers, his sister and moran, but not that of his mother. he had then wandered back to his old home, hiding whenever he saw anyone, and there, in an outhouse, had found his mother lying dreadfully wounded. the patrol went on to the house and found the poor lady in a dreadful state, but quite conscious. she told them that after the murder of her husband and children she had been most brutally ill-treated and then left for dead. when she came to herself she struggled back to what had been her home, and had taken refuge in an outhouse, where she had been found by her little son, who had kept her alive by scouting for hens' eggs or anything else he could find. now i call the escape of that child miraculous. for a helpless youngster to get away in the first place is wonderful; but that he should have been successful in evading the maori search, of five days, for stragglers, and after finding his mother, to have been able to feed himself and her for seven days, with the food he scouted for, is a bit more than miraculous, and i put it down entirely to that sweet little cherub who sits up aloft. mrs wilson and her son were removed to tauranganui and afterwards to napier. for nine days after she had been found it was hoped she might recover, but her injuries were too great, and she died shortly after she reached the latter place. the above short and very incomplete yarn may give you some idea of the reason why we, members of the lost legion, so cheerfully underwent the great hardships we did to revenge the poverty bay massacre of november . folly, pluck and endurance it is wonderful what a great number of good scouts and men have jeopardised and even lost their lives and the valuable information they have obtained, by a small act of folly, or by refusing to endure hardships for a few hours longer, when by doing so they might have won through safely and have brought to their o.c. the information he so badly wanted. i have known men who, despite years of experience, have rushed out of their camp to tackle a lion with only the one cartridge that was in their rifle; and there are plenty of men who go prospecting or even big-game hunting and have their rifle and ammunition carried for them by a kafir boy. trouble comes, the boy bolts, and they are in a mess. again, i have known men throw away ammunition and rations, rather than endure the fatigue of carrying them on the line of march, and how often has not a night's march or a premeditated attack on an enemy's position been spoilt by some man lighting his pipe or letting off his rifle that he has been told to carry unloaded? the yarn i am going to spin you now will perhaps bear out what i have just written, and though the man who committed the folly extricated himself by a deed of heroism never surpassed and seldom equalled, yet the act of folly he and his mate perpetrated might have led to the loss of three lives, their own included. it was in november . the hau haus (fanatical and rebel maoris) had received a severe defeat at the hands of the colonial forces and friendly natives at waerenga-a-hika, which so broke them up that they were unable to face the music in that district (poverty bay) for a few years. over of them had surrendered. of these some had been transported to the chatham islands, the remainder settling down peacefully for a long time. there were, however, still a large number of the most fanatical and bloodthirsty of the savages who, although unable to make a stand, yet roved about the country in small bands, seeking opportunity to destroy any white man or friendly native whom they might come across. now among the defence force, scattered at posts built for the protection of the settlers, was a big, raw-boned irish sergeant named walsh, who had heard very many extraordinary yarns about some petroleum springs at a place called pakake-a-whirikoka, situated some thirty miles from the post he was in charge of. i do not know what his reasons were; perhaps it was only curiosity, or perchance he had ideas of becoming an oil king. but as things looked quiet and peaceful, he determined to visit them, and persuaded an old settler and his son, named espic, to guide him to the locality. well, they started early in the morning, the time being summer and the weather very hot, and after a long ride of nearly thirty miles reached the steep hill leading to the springs. here they dismounted, and, because they had seen no signs of the enemy, decided to leave their horses in charge of the boy, while they went up the hill, on foot, to examine the springs. this in itself was an act of folly; but they went one worse, for, the weather being hot, and meaning only to be absent a very short time, they left their carbines, coats and all their ammunition at the foot of the hill, rather than endure the slight trouble of carrying them, and started the ascent with only their revolvers. now they had been spotted by one of these bands of hau haus, who, as soon as they saw the two white men go up the hill, crawled up to the horses and captured them, with the arms and ammunition. the boy, however, although fired at, escaped and got away. the hau haus, thinking they had their prey secure, tied up the horses to a tree, and went up the hill after the white men, who, having heard the shots, were returning. as soon as they met, the natives fired a volley, which broke espic's arm and wounded walsh on the forehead and hand. the white men returned the fire, and in the skirmish that followed walsh was again wounded and, the white men's revolvers being now empty, the hau haus, nine in number, rushed them with the tomahawk, to finish them off. in the hand-to-hand scrap that ensued walsh was again twice wounded; but he still fought on, and a hau hau, determining to finish him, put his cut-down gun to walsh's chest and fired. fortunately the bullet must have fallen out of the gun, as walsh only sustained a bad burn on the chest. springing in, he felled his assailant with a tremendous blow from the butt-end of his revolver. this was too much for maori superstition. that a man whom they had badly wounded five times should be able to continue to put up a fight was bad enough; but that he should be able to floor their best man just after that best man had shot him through the chest was more than any decent hau hau could understand. leaving the horses and the stricken man behind them, away they fled, only too anxious to put as great a distance as they could between themselves and the awful tohunga (magician), who refused to be killed. so much for folly and pluck. now i will go on to endurance. no sooner had the astonished and affrighted hau haus bolted than walsh and his mate kicked their prisoner into convalescence and proceeded down the hill, where they found their horses tied to a tree, but the carbines, ammunition, and even saddles, taken away. both men were badly wounded, walsh in five places; but he would neither kill his prisoner nor let him go. passing a rope round his neck, they made shift to mount their horses, bare-backed, and, forcing him to accompany them, they led him that long, hot ride of thirty miles, back to tauranganui, where they arrived that night. yes, faint though they were with the loss of blood, racked with the pain of untended wounds, without a round of ammunition, and hampered by an evil brute of a hau hau, who did everything in his power to retard their progress. yet they would neither kill him nor let him go. that i think is a yarn that illustrates folly, pluck and endurance. chapter viii a tough swim in bad company if you look at the map of the middle island of new zealand you will see the north coast of it, washed by cook's straits, is deeply indented by fiords running inland, and that tory channel and queen charlotte's sound are two of the principal ones. these run in separately for some miles, and then join together and form one sound, which continues for a considerable distance, having on one side, some miles farther south, the important seaport of picton. the island, surrounded by the water of the aforementioned fiords, is known as alapawa or arapawa island, and in the year was divided into two sheep runs and occupied by two firms of squatters who had already acquired a large number of sheep. the scenery up these fiords is magnificent, the densely bushed mountains coming down to the water, which is deep to the very shore, so much so that the largest ship can sail close in and, if her skipper wants to, can make fast to the big trees growing down to the water's edge. the tide runs up and down these fiords at a tremendous rate, and this must be remembered when you read the yarn i am now going to spin you. arapawa island is a range of high mountains, and on the side facing queen charlotte's sound i was staying at one of the sheep stations for the purpose of recuperating my health after a rather long spell in hospital. the year before i had foolishly got in the way of a small piece of lead that, being in a hurry, was travelling very fast. i had stopped it, and had been punished for my imprudence by having to lay up while doctors sunk shafts and drove drives in my corpus and generally prospected me for a lead mine. true, they had not struck the reef; but then they had not succeeded in killing me, and when i got out of their hands i called it a drawn game, and started to get well in my own way. the shafts and the drives had filled up, and i had finished the cure by staying two months in the glorious climate of the sounds, first knocking about in a sailing-boat in the management of which i was a dab, and then assisting my friends by running over the hills after sheep. this exercise, with plenty of good mutton and damper, turning-in just after dark, and turning-out just before sunrise, had perfected my cure, and i was as strong as ever, and in good training. at that time i neither used spirits nor tobacco; i was as hard as iron and as tough as whipcord, and had, moreover, practised swimming, boxing, fencing and other gymnastics from early childhood. the awful hardships of the past wars had done me no harm, but rather good, as they had squeezed the last soft drop out of me, and i was fit for anything. i should have rejoined my troop on the frontier of the north island a fortnight before, but waited to help my friends through with their yearly mustering and sheep-shearing. hands were scarce, and i had never before seen a muster or sheep-shearing, so, my traps having been sent on to picton, i waited for it. well, the shearing was over and the men temporarily taken on for it were paid off. in those days, on the last night before the extra hands were dismissed it was considered the right thing to do for everyone to go on a big burst, and men who had worked hard for weeks, and not touched a drop of spirits, would get blind drunk. so it was at this station, with the exception of myself, who did not touch grog; all hands, masters and men, had a tremendous burst, drinking up every drop of strong rum laid in for the occasion. the following morning at daylight i started for picton in a boat, accompanied by one of the partners and four of the extra hands, all of whom were what is known as suffering a recovery, which means they were very ill from the effects of the previous night's debauch. i had roused them up, got the boat out, and we started on as lovely a morning as i ever saw in my life. my crew, very ill and sulky, lay down in the bottom of the boat, a roomy craft of about twenty-three feet in length, and tried to sleep. well, we made our offing, the sun rose very hot and the wind died away. it was by this time slack water, and, as the men refused to pull an oar, we lay motionless. suddenly i noticed the day darken and the mountains of arapawa island covered with a dense black cloud that was rolling rapidly down them, and knew in a moment we were in for a southerly buster. the air grew rapidly colder, and i shouted to the men to get up and shorten sail; but they would not move. i saw what resembled a dense cloud of dust raised off a very dry road in summer-time coming at us. in a moment it was on us; it was a spray torn from the sea by the force of the squall, and it stung and blinded me. as the squall struck us broadside on, it simply sunk us, turning us over at the same time. i stuck to the tiller until the boat turned turtle, when i was, of course, thrown out, and was swimming at her stern as the keel rose from the water. the boat had a very deep false keel, and i saw that everyone had got hold of it. just as the squall was thinning the boat rolled over and righted herself, and in the lull i shouted to the men to leave go their hold on the gunwale and join me, so that we could try and swing the stern to the wind, when perhaps one man could get in and bail her out. but they would not listen. they all tried to scramble into her at once, and over she went again. this happened twice, and i could not get the men to obey me, or try to do anything to save themselves. they all seemed to be mad with fright; one even kicked savagely at me as i tried to get him to leave go his hold on the keel. i saw the only chance to save my own and their lives was to try to swim ashore, and get help and another boat from the station. i had at least two miles to swim; and that in the teeth of a southerly buster, which i could see was now coming on in full force. i was dressed only in a thin flannel shirt and trousers; the latter i easily tore off, but i determined to keep on my canvas shoes, as i would have a long run round the beach to get to the house--that is to say, if i ever got on shore. this was very problematical, as not only had i the gale to contend against, but i knew the bay and sound swarmed with sharks; and the evening before i had sat on a rock and shot at the brutes as they were tearing to pieces the bodies of a lot of old and worthless sheep that had been killed and thrown into the sea. well, the sharks would have their chance at me now, and turn and turn about is only fair play. in tearing my trousers off i sank a bit, and on coming up i shouted to the men i would try to bring them help, and started. just then down came the true gale. the wind rushing through the tops of the mountains struck the water as if forced through a funnel, and tore it into foam and spray, which not only blinded me, but simply drove me under the water, and i quickly saw i must dodge the fierce blasts by diving. i was a very powerful swimmer and had the lungs and wind of an ostrich, so that, whenever i saw a cloud of water dust coming at me, down i went and swam under water for all i was worth. then, when i had to come up for air, if there was a lull in between the squalls, i would strike out with a good long side-stroke, and make all the way i could. this sort of thing went on for a long time, and i thought of and used every dodge i had ever learned or heard of to save my strength and use it to the very best advantage. my long experience in scouting and despatch-riding had trained me to think quickly and to act decisively. i was as cool as a cucumber and as hopeful as a boy setting out to rob an orchard. the water was warm. i was in splendid fettle, and i had a wild feeling of elation, as i dodged the squalls, that was simply grand, although my eyes ached and smarted with the spray. if it had not been for the danger of my helpless mates i should have simply revelled in my struggle against the elements. as i rose for air, during a lull, i took a good look at the land, and was surprised at the very rapid progress i was making. for a minute i could not understand it. i was certainly drawing more under the lee of the land, and the squalls were not so fierce as at the first start, but still i was quite a mile off, and they were bad enough; but all at once i understood what was befriending me; it was the tide. it had been slack water when the accident had happened, and the tide had turned and was simply helping me all it knew; now i felt certain of getting ashore, bar accidents. yet, bar accidents, i was all right; but there were other things also, as i quickly discovered, for when i determined it was no longer necessary for me to dodge the squalls, and had settled down to a long, steady side-stroke, i glanced to my right, and there, not thirty feet from me, was a long, triangular fin sticking out of the water, which i knew belonged to a shark of the largest size. instinctively i turned to the left. there was another one; and as i raised myself in the water and looked astern of me, there was a third. to say i was in a funk is not to tell the truth; funk does not fully describe my feelings. i knew what funk was; i had been in a funk before, plenty of times. i had been in many a tight and hot corner before. i had often looked at what might be certain death, but then i had weapons in my hand and the prospect of a good fight before i went under; but now i was helpless. there was to be no fight, there could be no fight. i had not even a knife, and had i possessed one i was outnumbered and outclassed. as i trod water for a few moments i knew what real fear was. i had never felt it before, and, thank heaven! i have never felt it since. i can't describe my feelings, and i would not if i could. certainly it was not the fear of death that caused these sensations; but it seemed so hard that i, who had almost overcome my danger, should be turned into long pig for a beastly shark. but my cowardice did not last long. i was still at least three-quarters of a mile from shore; the good tide was still sweeping me in, and my wild irish blood all at once boiled up in me. my duty to myself and mates required me to get on shore, and get on shore i would. if a shark took me, well and good, kismet. stick to my work i would, shark or no shark; so i fell into my stroke, and swam as if there had not been a shark within a degree of latitude of me, escorted by a guard of honour i never want again. yes, i got ashore, those d--d sharks keeping company all the way; and when my foot hit bottom and i stumbled through the shallow water and fell on the sand there they still were, cruising about, not a stone's-throw away, as if they were the most harmless beasts in the ocean. why did they not go for me? i don't know; certainly my time had not yet come, kismet. as soon as i had taken a few breaths i looked for the boat, but could not see her for the dense spray which the gale, now at its worst, was kicking up; so i started to run the four miles round the bay to the station. the rough beach and rocks soon cut my soaked shoes to pieces and, as the soles became detached, i had to run with bare feet, and suffered awfully. fain would i have halted and rested, but my mates' danger spurred me on, and i ran as if a maori, with his tomahawk, were after me. i came to the head of the bay and suddenly remembered that between me and the house there was another very deep indent of the sea. at the mouth it was not more than yards across, but it ran very far inland, and with my feet in the state they were it would take me hours to get round. no, i must swim it; and i was just plunging in, notwithstanding the squalls, which were tearing the surface of the water into dust, when i was struck with the horrid thought of sharks, and for a moment i paused like a coward on the brink. it was only for a moment. curse the sharks! my mates were on the boat; and in i went and crossed after a hard swim. to get to the house, rouse up the other partner and the one remaining man, and to get out a small whale-boat did not take many minutes. we manned the boat, peaked the oars and ran before the gale. we came up to the derelict in mid-sound, rolling over and over, but not a sign of a man was on her, nor was a single body ever found. we ran across the sound, beached the boat, and, when the gale subsided, pulled back. this is, i think, the nearest call i have ever had, and if there is any moral in my yarn it is to leave drink alone, keep in training, do your duty by yourself and mates, and trust to your luck while doing so. since then i have always hated sharks. the curse of cromwell be on them. chapter ix held up by a bushranger (_told by the old identity_) it took place in the early seventies. i was in australia, and was temporarily in command of a body of mounted police, doing duty as gold escort--a very necessary precaution in those days. on one occasion i was travelling up-country, accompanied by four troopers, when a big squatter, a friend of mine, asked leave to ride with my small party, as he was carrying a quantity of gold up-country with him to his station. of course i was delighted to have his company, and we set out. all along the road there were plenty of shaves (rumours) of bushrangers, but for three days we never saw one. at noon on the fourth day we halted at a bush shanty to feed, water and rest our horses. the bush shanties, in those days, were as a rule vile poison shops, the owners and their employees being usually hand in glove with every scoundrel, cattle thief and bushranger in the country, giving them information as to the movements of the police, and in many cases sharing with them their plunder. however, with a party like ours there was nothing to fear, at least so i thought; so when we dismounted and handed over our horses to the troopers to lead to the stockyards, some little distance from the house, myself and my friend entered. it was a long, one-roomed building, with a bar running the whole length of it, and the only door at one end. there was no one inside but the bar-tender, as hang-dog-looking a ruffian as i have ever set eyes on. foolishly, as it proved, as i entered i unbuckled my belt with sword and revolver attached and threw them on a bench by the door. then we strolled together to the far end of the bar and, hot and thirsty with our long ride in the burning sun, called for drinks. glasses in hand, we stood with our backs to the door, and were just about to sample our poison when we heard the ominous words: "bail up!" turning round, i saw a wicked-looking devil standing in the doorway. he had me covered with the heavy revolver he carried in his right hand, while its mate, ready for action, was gripped in his left by his side. he was a well-made, tough-looking chap, very muscular and strong, without carrying an ounce of superfluous flesh, and dressed in the ordinary up-country dress. his face, clean-shaven, was covered by a black mask, but i noticed a well-cut mouth, a determined chin, and his eyes gleamed through the holes of his visor with a glint there was no mistaking, while the hand that held the gun was as steady as a rock. then i realised that he was between me and my weapons, which lay on the bench by the door. a man who has passed years in bush-fighting, scouting and despatch-riding thinks quickly and acts decisively. had there been the slightest tremor in wrist or lips i should have slung my glass at him, and risked a rush; but there was not a sign of a tremble, and i knew that the slightest hostile movement on my part would not only lead to my certain death, but would be quite useless. my friend and the villainous bar-tender, the latter with a broad grin on his ugly mug, had at once bailed up, and as there was no chance of help from my troopers, who by that time must have off-saddled and be attending to the horses at the stock-yard, some way off, i knew we were cornered and beaten. "captain," said the bounder, "i guess i've got you. bail up." "i'll see you d----d first," i replied. "i've got you," he retorted, "and i'm on the shoot. sling your money on the counter, and"--this to my friend--"sling that bag down too." the squatter was standing with his hands above his head, so evidently could not do so, and the bushranger said to me: "captain, sling that bag over here." "rot!" was my discourteous reply; so he turned to the blackguard behind the bar, who was probably in league with him, and said, "joe, you do it." and the bag was promptly thrown to him. then he said to me, and i noticed he changed his voice, dropping the yankee slang and idiom he had previously used, and speaking with a well-modulated and refined accent: "captain, i don't want anything from you." (this was just as well, as i had nothing.) "but," he continued, "how long start will you give me?" i said: "five minutes." "word of honour?" "yes." "so long." and with that he backed out, and in a moment i heard the beat of a horse's hoofs starting at a gallop. my friend was raving mad, and wanted me at once to alarm my troopers, but i said: "no; you'd got your gun with you just now, why did you not use it?" when five minutes had passed i gave the order to saddle up; but of course the man had got clear away. i never knew who he was, but a man shot shortly afterwards by one of my troopers was believed to be he, and most probably was. chapter x on the scout in new zealand (_told by the old kai tongata_) it was in june that te kooti, chief of the rebel hau haus, caught a party of mounted volunteers on the hop, at a place called opepe, on the high plateau near lake taupo. the men, worn out by a long march, and soaked through by the cold winter rain and sleet, had taken shelter on some old whares (huts) and were trying to dry themselves when a few maoris came up, and, declaring themselves to be friendlies, joined them at their fires. more and more of them gradually arrived, until the volunteers were outnumbered, and then, on a signal being given, the natives sprang on their unsuspecting victims, and the tomahawk did the rest. the victors did not stay long at the blood-stained spot. they knew that colonel mcdonnell, colonel st john and, worse than anyone, major ropata te wahawaha, with his friendly ngatiporou, were not far away, and that it behoved them to hump themselves and travel before the avengers could reach them. some of the volunteers had escaped, and two of them joined up with colonel st john's column, with which i was serving, the same evening as the massacre took place. it was at once boot and saddle, and before nightfall we had marched to opepe. colonel st john had reached the spot before us, in fact the men cut up belonged to his column, and he had only left them the morning of the massacre to rest themselves and horses, while he went on to visit a maori chief about ten miles away. next morning we were on the spoor, and followed it through rough pumice-stone gullies for some miles, in pouring rain and sleet, then lost all trace of them in a dense scrub of manuka bush, so we returned to opepe for the night. the following day it was determined to send scouts out to find where the enemy had retreated to. we had followed te kooti since july , when he had escaped with fighting men from chatham islands, had landed at whare-onga-onga, close to poverty bay, and had gathered all the disaffected maoris in the country to him. he had sacked poverty bay, murdering about ninety helpless settlers. he had fought us twice at makaretu and innumerable other places, had captured a convoy of ammunition, had fortified himself at ngatapa, where he had repulsed, with heavy loss, two assaults and had only evacuated the pah when starved out for want of food and water. and although we had, in the pursuit, captured and killed of his men, yet he himself escaped and reached the fastnesses of the uriwera country. in april he had swooped down on the mohaka settlement and had murdered in cold blood seventy whites and friendly natives, and then retreated to taupo country with us at his heels. in fact he had kept us lively for a year, and was going to prevent us getting rusty for two more, until, having lost nearly all his men, he retired into the king country, where we could not follow him; and he lived there quietly for twenty years, and at last died in the odour of sanctity, highly respected by all who knew him. for nearly four years we were on his track: his escapes were numerous and miraculous, we destroyed band after band of the desperate savages who joined him, but although he was wounded twice we never got him. bad luck to it, i'm off the spoor. to get back. it was determined to send out scouts to locate te kooti, and i was chosen with two men to do the job. it was a big contract to handle. one glance at the map will show you lake taupo. we were at the north-east corner, about ten miles from the semi-friendly pah at tapuacharuru (sounding footsteps), our base was at opotiki, eighty miles away, on the bay of plenty coast. there were at that time no roads, no bridle-tracks, no paths; no game existed in new zealand, and there was no food to be procured for man, and but little for horses. no white man, with the exception, perhaps, of a stray missionary, had ever penetrated to that part of the country, which was composed of dense bush, mountains and broken ground covered with manuka scrub, or long fern, which grew from six to ten feet high, and it was in the depth of winter, bitterly cold and wet. the enemy had retreated in the direction of the great volcanoes ruapehu and tongeriro, at the south-east end of the lake, about thirty-five miles from where we were camped, and in an awful country, quite unknown and hostile to us. this country had to be searched, te kooti found and attacked before he established himself in another stronghold and recruited his murderous band of bloodthirsty savages. the columns could not advance and look for him; they had no food to feed man or horse during the time it would take to find him. no, they must fall back nearer the base, and the scouts must find him, and then the troops and horses, well fed, could make a rush for him and perhaps put an end to his career. my orders were that i was to find te kooti and return to opepe, the colonel promising he and the column would meet me there on the sixteenth day, when i was to guide him up to the quarry. how i was to find the bounder, and how we were to live while we were looking for him, was left to me. it was certain that te kooti would be looking out for anyone who might be impudent enough to look for him, and if he caught us our fate was certain, though, of course, we could only guess at the nature of the torture to which we should be subjected. even if we were lucky enough to be able to blow our own brains out before we were captured, the colonel would lose the information he required, and more men would have to be sent; so that it behoved us to keep ourselves and our tracks hidden, and to see without being seen. how we were to live i left to providence; it was beyond me. we were all hardened bushfighters, and we must take our chance. my two companions were queer characters; both of them had been sailors: one of them, pierre de feugeron, a frenchman, the other a kantuarius greek. they had been mates for years, were both splendid scouts, expert bushmen, good shots, and utterly fearless. well, no sooner had i got my orders than we started. our field kit consisted of smasher hats, dark blue serge jumpers that reached to the knee, but during the day were drawn up and fastened round the waist; we wore no trousers, but had shawls round us like kilts. i wore shooting boots and socks; the others went barefooted with sandals. our arms consisted of carbines and revolvers, and we each wore in our belts a tomahawk and sheath knife. on our backs we carried a blanket rolled up, in which was some very bad bacon and worse biscuit, four pounds of each; and with this we were to penetrate thirty-five miles or more into an unknown country, as rough as any in the world, find a wily enemy and, above all, get back with our information. it may not seem much to the man who has never been out of britain, but a colonial will appreciate the job at its true value. we left the camp from the north side, and made a wide detour to the north-east, before we struck to the south-west, to touch the lake. the enemy had retreated almost due south, through a number of rough pumice-stone gullies, and it was more than likely that a sly old bird like te kooti would leave an ambush on his spoor to cut off any scouts that might be sent after him, or, in case a strong party followed him, to give him news of their movements. i did not want to fall into that ambush. i had been in a few before, and did not like them; and so went round to try and cut his spoor a good way south of where we had abandoned it on the previous day. all that day we tramped across deep gullies and through manuka scrub, very often having to head off our road to examine the ground on either side of us, and to take bearings to our rear as well as to our front. a good scout should always do this, as he may have to return a sight faster than he went; and he must remember which way he came; he has no time to think much when a war party is after him. well, as night fell we came to a range of mountains covered with bush, and i reckoned that, with our detour, we had made quite ten miles to the south of opepe, and were well on our way. it had rained all day, except when it sleeted, and of course we were wet through, yet we dare not light a fire. for all we knew we might have been spotted and followed; so we entered the bush, and as soon as it was quite dark moved carefully a mile away and, eating a small handful of biscuits, wrapped ourselves in our shawls and blankets and slept as well as we could. it froze hard that night and the cold was intense; in the morning we were up as soon as a glimmer of day came, and started to cross the range of mountains. the bush was a regular new zealand one, composed of trees of gigantic size, and with a dense undergrowth that nothing but a pig or an elephant could get through. we therefore had to take to the bed of a creek and follow it up to the ridge. the water was icy cold, and the cold drip from the trees and bushes wet us through, although it did not rain. with nothing but a few bits of flint-like biscuit to chew, up we went, and came to the top of the range, and there we rested and got a view of the country. to our west was the lake, and to the south was the cone of tongeriro and the three peaks of ruapehu; between us and them was range after range of hills, below us lay a deep valley, and, tough as we were, i almost feared the job was too tough for us. to despond is one of the last things a scout should do; so after more biscuit off we went again, and, striking another creek, we descended the bed of it till we came to the river that ran through the valley and entered the lake at the foot of it. i determined to descend the bed of this river, as i thought i might cut te kooti's spoor on the beach of the lake, which i determined to examine next morning. i feared to do so that evening, as they might have ambushed the drift, and there was also the dread of the ambuscade he most likely had left behind to watch our camp. this party, after they had watched the column move away, would most likely, provided they had not seen us, be on the march to catch up te kooti. we therefore hid on a fern ridge with the drift in view of us, and fortunate it was for us we did so. we had not been there long when we saw coming from the north, along the beach, a party of twelve natives; and i felt much relieved, for i knew at once that they had not seen us, or they would have been after us, and that i had been quite right to make the detour i had done. they marched quite carelessly, evidently thinking no white man was nearer them than the retreating column, and when they had crossed the drift lit a big fire, cooked food and warmed themselves; then, leaving the fire burning, started at a rapid pace for the south. we watched them round a far cape of the lake, then down we went to their fire and warmed ourselves and cooked a bit of bacon. thankful we were for the warmth and food; but we dare not stay long. i wanted to get the benefit of the open beach, and also to spot their camp fire that night; so, as soon as our frozen limbs were thawed and our food swallowed, we were off, hiding our spoor as well as we could. that night we saw their camp, and envied them as we lay hid in the fern shivering with cold; for again we had a hard frost, and our clothes were far from dry; but a scout must put up with cold, heat, hunger, thirst, and be ready to face, smiling, anything that falls to his lot. the earlier in life he hardens himself to do without rotten sweetstuff the better, and always remember that cigarettes are the invention of the evil one. well, day after day this sort of life went on. if i were to try to describe our adventures day by day they would fill a book; let it suffice that for ten days we lurked through tangled and dripping bush, waded up the bed of mountain torrents, crossed snowclad ranges, and struggled through matted fern, soaked with rain and sleet during the day, and frozen stiff during the bitter nights. our miserable rations were gone. sometimes we found a rotten matti-tree, and from it extracted the white grubs, which we ate thankfully. once we found some potatoes. at last we discovered te kooti, and where he was building his new pah. for one night i prowled round it, and long before morning we were on our way back. for the first two days the same care had to be taken to hide our spoor; it would never do to be caught or killed after all our troubles and sufferings. on the third day i moved down to the lake. we were starving: not just hungry, but absolutely starving. as the evening was coming on, in a small bay i saw the smoke of a fire; that meant maoris camping. they had food of some sort, and we decided to have it. the bay was an inlet, into which a small creek emptied itself, between two low ridges of fern. a short detour led us to the bed of the creek, down which we descended as quietly as otters, while the noise of the stream drowned any slight noise we might make in wading down it. the creek ran into a small clump of tree ferns, and we crept on till we came to where the party was encamped at the mouth of the creek. there were four fine-looking big maoris. their canoe was drawn up on the bank of the creek with the paddles leaning against it. had there been more than four paddles it would have meant that some of the party were absent; but now we knew we had only the four in front to tackle. we dare not use our fire-arms on account of the report. no, the job must be done with tomahawk and knife. we were within twenty feet of them. a glance at my companions and we laid down our carbines, slipped off our blankets and drew our tomahawks and knives. one more look. the four maoris were sitting by their fire, unconscious of our presence. a nod to my mates and we sprang at them. whiz, whiz went my men's knives--they were both past masters at the art of knife-throwing--and over went two maoris with the knives buried up to the hafts in their bodies. i rushed my man, but, surprised as he was, he was a splendid, tough old warrior, and jumped at me, his tomahawk swinging loosely in the air above his head. i had practised hard with the tomahawk for the last two years, but i knew i was no match for the old man. i therefore determined to rush in on him, guard his first blow and use my left fist. (i was very strong in those days, and a good boxer.) throwing up my tomahawk, i guarded a smashing cut at the left of my neck, and although i felt the keen edge of the blade cut my flesh on the left shoulder, the impetus of my charge carried me in, and lashing out with my left i struck him full on the throat. down he went, astonished by this novel mode of attack, and in another moment the head of my tomahawk was buried up to the eye in his brains. when i looked round the fight was over, the only unwounded maori falling an easy prey to the combined attack of my two desperadoes. pierre, a splendid cook, was already looking into the pot that was on the fire, and, declaring the contents to be good pork, not long pig, we were soon enjoying it. to get rid of the bodies did not take long. the marks of the struggle were obliterated, and we were off. two days more and we reached opepe; and, true to his word, my colonel met us with a strong patrol. we were thin, footsore, our legs torn, our kit in rags; but what mattered that? we had done our duty and had got back with valuable information, and as we swallowed some hot tea we did not care for the past--it was past. my wound was nothing--pierre had stitched it up--and as i once more donned my breeches and boots, a clean shirt, and threw my leg over my dear old horse, i was as happy as the day was wet. chapter xi the colonel's fiery tot (_told by the old kai tongata_) during the east coast war the division in which i was serving landed on the beach to seize a "pah," or native stronghold, two days' march inland. as usual we carried four days' rations, including rum. we were led by a fine old colonel, a distinguished crimean officer, who was much liked by the men. he was one of the old "two-bottle men"--or, rather, he was contented with two bottles when he could not get three. at that time i had not acquired a liking for ration rum--raw, fiery stuff--but by the end of the second day's march the colonel had consumed his own allowance and mine too. at daylight on the third day, when we had fallen in beside a creek, and were preparing to attack, he said to me: "give me a tot" (calling me by a nickname i acquired early and retained throughout my active career). "i haven't any rum, sir; you finished mine last night." he bubbled like a furious turkey-cock, and swore i'd drunk more than my share. as i had not tasted a drop, i thought this unfair, but wisely said nothing. it is bad policy to argue with a liverish colonel, when he is two days' march from the nearest drink. then he said: "i must have a tot. i wonder whether the men have any left." i was just promising to inquire when he exclaimed excitedly: "look there!" and lo and behold, a man stepped out of the ranks, then standing easy, and took from his haversack a bottle containing something that looked like rum. he poured some into a pannikin, poured in some water and drank it off. "by heavens," said the old colonel, "i've struck oil." just then i called the men to "attention," and as we went down the ranks inspecting the colonel kept saying: "deuced bad pain in my stomach." as we got opposite the man with the bottle--he was, by the way, the most temperate man in the corps--the colonel's groans became heart-rending. the man thereupon brought out the bottle from his haversack, and said to him: "do you think this would do you any good, sir?" the colonel's face was wreathed in smiles. "aha, my man, just what i wanted," he exclaimed. "give me your pannikin." and he proceeded to pour out for himself a strong "tot." "be careful, sir," said the man, "it's very strong." "ah!" said the colonel, "when you're as old a soldier as i am you'll be able to take your 'tot' neat." and with that he tossed it down. the change that came over his face was marvellous! the smiles were replaced by a look of agonised surprise. he coughed and spluttered, and ejaculated: "shoot the blackguard; he's poisoned me!" then he rushed to the creek and drank more water in ten minutes than he had drunk in the ten previous years. "what have you given the colonel?" i asked the man. "perry & davis's pain-killer," he replied. "will you try some, sir?" i put my tongue to the mouth of the bottle and then said, "no, i'm blowed if i do." for the stuff was like liquid fire, and was hot enough to burn the entrails out of a brass monkey, and if applied externally would have blistered the halo from a plaster saint. it also claimed to cure everything. in that it lied, for it did not cure the colonel's propensity for ration rum, although i must admit it made him very careful for some time to sample his tot before he swallowed it. chapter xii lost in the new zealand bush in spinning this yarn i wish to warn all new chums that, no matter how clever you may fancy yourself to be, you must, when you enter a bush, keep all your senses on deck, or you will run the chance of finding yourself bushed just as easily as the greenest tenderfoot ever exported. true, an old hand will, as a rule, pull through, while the greenhorn will go under; but yet the number of old bushmen who have been lost and who have died is very great, and no one, no matter how experienced he is, or what his training has been, has a right to enter the bush without taking every precaution. this was driven into me very early in my frontier education, and i have saved myself frequently if not from death, yet from many hardships, by always ascertaining i had sufficient of the indispensable articles about me, without which no man should enter the forest or wilderness. perhaps, right here, i may enumerate them. in a dry country a man should always carry a water-bag or bottle, and see that it is in good order and full; he should never stir without plenty of matches, carried in a damp-proof box or well-corked bottle, a flint and steel, a burning-glass, or some means of making a fire. a tomahawk and sheath knife are indispensable; and of course, in africa and countries where there are lions, etc., see that you have plenty of ammunition with you--remember you may want to signal with your rifle--and if possible shove a couple of ship biscuits into your haversack: you may want them, and they do not weigh much. now for the yarn. in i was located at a place called wai-tangi (murmuring water), a native kainga, on lake tarawera, and one day determined to go pigeon and kaka (new zealand parrot) shooting in the densely bushed ranges on the east side of the lake. the lake is a very beautiful one, of large size, surrounded by mountains, among which is the volcano mount tarawera, and at the south-west corner is the creek that leads up to rotomahana and the wonderful terraces. at the date i write about mount tarawera was quiet, and everyone thought it had retired from the volcano business; but some years afterwards, , it took a fit, broke out, blew the terraces galley west, destroyed a great deal of property and killed a good few people, among others my quondam hosts at wai-tangi. now the new zealand kaka and pigeon are, in the fall of the year, very toothsome birds indeed; they get very fat on the berries of the gigantic trees, and the maoris have a very good way of preserving them. i mention these last facts, as, previous to my departure from the kainga, i had told my host, the chief of the place, that i was going to try to kill a great many birds, had requested him to order a woman to make a couple of large bark buckets to preserve them in, and had also intimated i might camp out or stay for a night or two at one or other village on the lake. this was unfortunate, as, subsequently, the maoris took no notice of my prolonged absence and did not come to look for me, as they concluded i was staying somewhere else; and it was only on the day of my return the old chief, having become anxious, started a party of young warriors to paddle round the lake to find out if i were all right. well, i started off in a canoe, taking with me my gun, fifty no. shot cartridges, some tea and sugar, a couple of blankets and half-a-dozen ship biscuits. i should also have taken a young warrior, but as all the natives were engaged on their plantations, i went alone. it was a lovely day, the lake as calm as a millpond and the splendid scenery most entrancing. i paddled slowly out of the little bay at the head of which the kainga stood, and after a few minutes' contemplation of the glorious bushed mountains, whose beauties were reflected as in a mirror on the glass-like water, i struck out across the north-east corner of the lake and made for the east shore, where i meant to beach my canoe in some small bay at the mouth of one of the numerous creeks that ran into the lake, then ascend the bed of the creek, get on the top of the high ranges, where there is comparatively little undergrowth, and shoot my game. after a few miles steady paddling i reached the shore, where there was rather a deep inlet, grounded my canoe on the beach at the head of it, where a fair-sized creek entered the lake, and landed. now i mentioned before that i had made the best use of my frontier education; so at once i dragged my canoe out of the water as far as i could and made fast the painter to a stout tree, then overhauled my belongings. i was dressed in proper bush outfit: a serge jumper, flannel shirt, smasher hat, good strong shooting boots and a shawl round my waist instead of trousers. in my belt i wore a tomahawk and sheath knife, and slung on to the back of it was a strong tin pannikin. i also carried on my belt a leather pouch containing a metal damp-proof box full of matches, a burning-glass, a plug of tobacco and my pipe. my cartridges i wore in a bandoleer over one shoulder, and over the other i wore one of the old-fashioned game bags. i was very strong in those days and did not mind a little extra weight; so after i had lunched on a biscuit and a lump of cold pork i put the remaining biscuits, a tin containing tea and sugar mixed, and a small one holding salt and pepper mixed, into my bag, hid my blankets and paddle, and after a glance to see that my canoe was all right, i entered the creek and started up the range. for some distance the brushwood and undergrowth were too thick for me to be able to see a bird on the tree-tops, but as i got higher up the range the bush thinned out, so that i could occasionally get a shot, and i found when i came to the summit i had bagged three brace of birds. these i hung up on a rata-tree and i out tomahawk and blazed it well, so as to let me know, on my return, it was the point at which i was to descend to the lake. the country i found myself in was very broken, and what had appeared from the lake to be a straight range of mountains running from north to south i found to be a regular jumble of broken ridges, cliffs and spurs that seemed to be mixed into several ranges that took no definite direction at all. this sort of country is very dangerous to explore and, knowing the fact, i ought to have taken precautions and exercised the greatest care. i did neither; for i wandered on after the birds and presently began thinking about some important letters i had lately received from home, and other matters, without even noting any of the salient landmarks, or the turnings and twistings of the broken ridges and spurs i was walking among. nor did i turn round and spot landmarks to guide my return journey. this was an act of folly unpardonable for a scout who knew his work and who was quite aware of the danger he was running. yet the very best and most experienced bushmen sometimes commit an act of folly, and, not being infallible, i had in my turn committed a very grave one. for when the approaching dusk warned me it was time to regain my canoe i turned round, and in a moment knew i was lost. you may ask how it was i knew at once i was lost. i will tell you. every scout worth his salt should carry in his head a map of the road he has been traversing that day, and when he is about to return on the back track he should at once be able to see that road with his mind's eye, its salient points, its landmarks, its difficulties, and everything worthy of note along it. well, when i turned i naturally cast my mind's eye on to my map and found a blank. i had noted nothing from the time i had hung up the birds and blazed the first tree; and i cussed myself for my folly. it was now i felt bush fear; for a desperate longing came over me _to run_ and try to find my way; but this i combated with all my will-power, and after a minute's struggle forced myself to sit down under a tree and think if i could not remember anything that might recall the road to mind; but in vain. the only thing to guide me was that i had shot a pigeon which had fallen into a fork of a tree and stuck there; that incident could be of but little use to me, yet i treasured it. again the desire, stronger than ever, came over me to run and look for the tree i had blazed; and again i had to fight it away. was i, fool as i had been, to lose my head and run mad through the bush like an untrained new chum? not by a jugful. i would camp where i was, and next morning, with a clear head, would try to unravel the puzzle. work was the thing for me, and i turned to. it did not take me long to collect plenty of firewood and make down a good fern bed. water i could hear close by, and when i had filled my pannikin i lit my fire, for night falls quickly in the new zealand bush, and overhauled my stores. i had my gun and over thirty cartridges left, and, besides what food i had brought with me, i had ten fat birds; so there was no fear of starvation for a long time. i had also no fear of thirst, as there is always plenty of water to be found in a new zealand bush; so i was well off, though i could not disguise the danger. anyhow i would have supper and think matters out, over a pipe, afterwards. in next door to no time i had two birds plucked, cleaned, and spitted on a splinter of wood, with a biscuit on a clean piece of bark under them. my pannikin, full of water, on some embers, soon boiled; to this was added some tea and sugar mixed, and i had a feast for the gods. true, i only had my sheath knife and fingers to eat with, but what of that? i was an old campaigner and could dispense with luxuries. then, my meal over, i lit my pipe and thought out my position. i was in a hole, that i knew, and i should require all my bushcraft to get out of it. it was not as if i was in a forest on a plain, but i was in a regular jumble of broken ridges, valleys and spurs, all of them heavily bushed. the only thing i had to look for was a blazed tree with some birds hanging on to it, and i did not know if i were north, south or east of it; nor could i judge my distance from it; for although i knew i had walked about four hours and a half, and that i had turned south when i left the tree, yet, for all i knew, i might have worked round in a circle and at the present moment be due north of it, or have turned farther to the east. my pipe finished, i determined to sleep if i could, so as to be fresh in the morning, and also to try to get rid of the feeling of solitude that now attacked and surprised me. i had frequently had to pass the night alone, aye, many a time, without fire or food, not daring to light the one and having none of the other; yet i had never felt so lonely or deserted before; for although i well knew there was nothing in the new zealand bush that could hurt me, still i kept on looking over my shoulder, or glancing to right and left into the darkness, and i could now realise the feelings that men who had been lost and found had tried to describe to me. they had been tenderfoots. faugh! i was an old hand; i had never funked the hau haus when they had been on the warpath after me. why now should i let these childish qualms assail me and funk shadows? yet they were there; and i confess them to you so that you may know how absolutely necessary it is for you, in case you should ever be in the same fix, no matter how experienced you are, to keep a tight hold over yourself, and not let your nerves get away with you. rolling myself up in my shawl, i lay down on my fern bed (a very comfortable bed it is too, if you know how to make it properly) and, thinking over my plans for the morrow, went to sleep. i awoke at daybreak refreshed and fit. a cold bath in the creek. a good breakfast. then selecting a huge tree, i climbed it by shinning up one of the big pendent vines, and had a good look round. i had hoped to be able to see the lake, but could see nothing of it; nor could i recognise any of the loftier mountains; but i knew the lake must be to the westward of me, and as there seemed to be a higher range in that direction i determined to make for it, though i could see no spur running in a direct line towards it. i therefore descended and, carefully blazing the big tree under which i had camped, started, taking care to blaze all the trees on my line. my reason for doing so (and bear it in mind) was, i had reached the spot where i found myself lost, without going down into any of the deep valleys that surrounded me. had i done so, i must have remembered the fact, as all the valleys were full of dense undergrowth, and i should have had to cut a road through it. i had not used my tomahawk on the previous day, except to blaze the first tree, therefore there must be some way of getting back without using it--if i could only find that way. i was making for the west. suppose after a time i should be certain i was going wrong, i could return with ease along the blazed track back to my camp, and start a new line, which i should also blaze, using a new tomahawk cut on the trees, and if that line failed, return and try again, always using the tree under which i had camped as a starting-point. i might fail half-a-dozen times or more, yet, with patience, i had a good chance to come out right in the end. again, although i did not reckon on it in my case, as i had no hopes of a search party coming to look for me, if you should ever be bushed, and you think it possible for a search to be sent to find you, it is a very good thing to carry out the above plan, and always return to your first camp, as most probably it will be the nearest spot to help; and if you pass your time in blazing lines (being careful to keep your lines distinct) the party looking for you will most likely strike one of your tracks and easily follow it to your assistance. knowing all this, i started, taking a course due west. i had no compass, but as a trained bushman i wanted none, and with all my senses on deck i began blazing trees on my line, taking care to spot every noticeable thing _en route_, and frequently looking back to see my track ran straight. sometimes i fancied i was going right and i felt the impulse to run; but this feeling i at once suppressed, and determined i would play the game to the end. past midday i knew i was wrong, as i came to a steep cliff descending perpendicularly into a deep valley, so i knew i could not have crossed it before. i was disappointed but by no means disheartened; so after a good look around i turned in my tracks and easily regained my camp, where i cooked more birds, had a good supper and slept without any bogeys coming to trouble me. on the morning of the third day i started again and blazed a new line, in a north-west direction; but again i met with disappointment and returned to my base. you may ask how it was that, as a trained scout, i did not try to follow my own spoor back to my starting-point. i will tell you at once. i was far too old at the game to waste my time by doing so. of course i was always on the look-out for any trace i had left; but there is very little soft ground on the top of new zealand ranges, and although i was in a daydream on the first afternoon, yet i knew that, instinctively, i should have avoided any soft or damp ground, also the gloom in a bush is not a good light to track by. an australian black fellow might have been able to follow my spoor, but no one else, so i did not try to. on the morning of the fourth day i started on what i thought to be a hopeless line nearly due north, as i expected to be shut off quickly by a deep valley i had noticed on the previous day; still it was the right game to play and i played it. strange as it may appear, i was not shut off as i had expected, but continued on till i came to a couple of large trees growing so close together that they seemed to spring from the same root. these attracted my attention, and although they were out of my line i went to them. i seemed to remember them in a dim sort of way, and i examined the ground carefully, going on my hands and knees to do so. i also took a good steady look at the country i had just passed over, to see if any glimmer of remembrance would dawn on me; and it did, but so faint that i feared the wish was father to the thought. but yet, those trees! a certainty came to me that i had seen them before, and i crawled round to the other side of them, scanning every foot of ground, and found what might be the spoor of one of my boots. at once i began to feel elated, and again the mad impulse to run came on; but i crushed it back, marked the spoor and forced myself to sit down and smoke a pipe. when i was quite cool i again examined the spoor, determined to restart my line from there and use the trees as a base. i started a new line and had not gone very far when under a tree i saw a lot of pigeon feathers. i at once went on my hands and knees and after a few minutes' search found undoubted spoor; so i knew i was on the right track; and again the desire to run came on, but i squashed it and, blazing the tree well, had a good look round, but could get no certainty as to my route, so went on with my line and during the afternoon found myself blocked, and had to turn back. that evening i shot three birds, and camped at the tree where i had found the feathers. next morning i was off, after a good breakfast, taking a new line west of north, thinking it would only be a short one; but yet i got on farther than i expected, and with my eyes glancing everywhere, all of a sudden i spotted something in the stunted fern, and going up to it found a dead pigeon. looking up, i noticed a fork in the tree close by and recognised it, as the one in which my bird had lodged. i at once tore the feathers off the bird. yes, there could be no doubt, it had been killed by no. shot; and now i was certain i was more than half-way out of the fix. again the crazy desire to run, this time crushed with more difficulty and requiring a pipe. then more blazing, until i began to think i must again be wrong and found myself unduly hastening my steps, and had to use the curb of my will to rein in. i had reached a place where i was thinking seriously of turning back, as i was convinced i had gone wrong, and had in fact halted when i noticed something waving in the wind about yards away to the south. i could only now and then catch a glimmer of it through the trees, but i went towards it. i lost sight of it in the bush, then saw it again, and in a few minutes was standing in front of a blazed rata-tree with six pigeons hanging on it. here was my starting-point; but i was so convinced i had gone wrong that for a minute or two i could not believe my eyesight, and fancied i had gone mad, in fact was so surprised that i had to argue with myself that someone had not moved the tree and the birds. this folly did not last long, and i was quickly in the bed of the creek, descending to the lake. i had just reached the foot of the hill when my foot slipped on a boulder and i came an awful cropper. in a moment i realised i had sprained my left ankle badly and had hurt my left side and shoulder. groaning and cursing with pain, i managed to crawl the remaining way to my canoe, untied the painter, crawled to the place where i had hidden my paddle and blankets, and with much agony got my right shoulder to the bow of the canoe and launched her. it made me shudder with pain to use the paddle--for a maori paddle requires both hands--but it had to be done, and i slowly worked out of the inlet, when to my horror i found i had a strong head wind to contend against. i could never do it, and was painfully turning my canoe to get back to the beach when i heard a deep-chested maori shout come pealing over the water, and looking in the direction from whence it came, i saw a large canoe with a dozen sturdy paddlers bearing down on me. in a few minutes i was in it, lying down on a heap of fern; and i must have fainted, but soon came to, to find the canoe tearing through the water, while fourteen stalwart warriors howled a canoe song to bring me back to life and give time to the paddles. we soon reached wai-tangi, and i was carried up to my hut, all the maoris holding a big tangi (weeping match) over my accident and blaming themselves for the misadventure that had happened to their guest. "te parione" (my maori name) quoth the chief, "your mana (luck) is very great. if you had fallen three days ago where would you have been now?" it was not a nice conundrum to puzzle over, so i went to sleep instead. chapter xiii a trooper's regard for his trust and horse years ago on the taupo line (the road running from napier to lake taupo) everything used by the men garrisoning the forts on the line had to be carried on pack-horses from the town of napier up to the headquarters (opepe), and this necessitated hard work and required hard language on the part of the troopers escorting the pack train, which consisted of some sixty horses and mules. of course the men were held responsible for the goods or valuables entrusted to them, and they regarded this trust as a point of honour that must be guarded even with life. now why a pack-mule or a transport ox won't go without the strongest language i don't know; but they won't; and in making this assertion i am only stating a well-known and proven fact. no matter how good a man may be with a stock-whip, or a waggon-whip, he will not get a journey or trek out of his beasts unless he beguiles them with the most powerful and sultry talk. i have never known a man to love a pack-mule, nor to caress one, and although you will find a trooper fond of and kind to most animals, yet somehow he draws the line at a mule. for his horse he will do anything--beg for it, lie for it, steal for it, halve his last bit of bread with it, and willingly risk his life for it--but not for a pack-mule. no, a pack-mule has few friends, and though men do their duty by them they don't give up their only blanket to them on a bitter cold night; and i have known many a trooper do that for his horse. however, i am getting off the right spoor, so must try back for the yarn. on the taupo line, at the time i mention, about ---the exact date i forget, and is of no consequence---the forces were rationed by a firm of contractors who had the right to run a canteen at each of the forts. the rations were good, but the liquor was bad; and when an old campaigner calls liquor bad, it must be very bad indeed. there were plenty of rows about it, and changes were promised, but somehow it never improved. this being so, it was the usual thing, when the pack train went down-country, for two or three of us who could not face the filth supplied by the contractors to send down a private horse and get up a couple of cases of spirits fit to drink. i was quartered at the time at an outlying station that the pack train did not pass, and one day received a note telling me to come to fort tarawera and get my share of two cases of brandy that had reached there. this i did, and rode over next day, accompanied by a very smart trooper named steve--at least that name will do for him, as he left the lost legion and has been for years a parson in the church of england. good luck to him! now the road, or rather the bridle-track, was a sinful one, partly through bush and partly along the bank of the waipunga river. at one place the path had been scraped out of a very steep hill of loose shale sloping down to the river, which ran about eighty to one hundred feet below it, and it was so narrow that, once on it, you could not turn your horse, nor even dismount. the length of this very bad bit was not more than two hundred yards, but there was a nasty turn half-way, so that it was necessary for you before you entered on it to give a loud shout in case anyone was approaching from the other end; and altogether it was not the sort of road to entice a nervous old gentleman to ride a restive horse along for a constitutional. we reached fort tarawera in safety, and i put in a very pleasant afternoon, hearing the news and yarning with my pals there. towards evening we left with my share of the plunder, which consisted of four bottles of brandy, to ride back the fourteen miles to my station. these bottles we carried in our wallets in front of our saddles, and after a parting drink and cheery good-night we rode gaily away. it was quite dark when we reached the worst part of the road; but in those days neither of us cared for anything, so that after a loud coo-ee we filed on to the bad track, myself leading. previous to our quitting the firm ground, i had said to my companion, in a joking manner: "take care you don't tumble over, steve; remember you are carrying precious brandy." he answered: "all right, i'll look after it." and we started the crossing. just as we got to the very worst part of the road i heard a scuffle, an oath, a rattling crash, and knew in a moment that steve with his horse had gone over the cliff, and rolled down the slope into the river. i was close to the end of the bad part; so, pressing my horse on to the firm ground, dismounted, and led him back to the place of the catastrophe. peering over, i could see nothing, so shouted: "steve, are you much hurt?" the answer came back and there was an exultant ring in the voice: "the brandy is quite safe." "d--- the brandy! are you much hurt?" a mournful reply came back: "poor darkie [his horse] is dead." "but yourself?" "oh, i've only broken my leg," was the answer, given in a tone of the most utter indifference; "i'm all right." "is your head well above water, and can you hang on till i get help from the fort?" "oh yes; i'm all right." so i told him to open one of the bottles and have a nip when he felt he required it, then led my horse to the firm ground, mounted and rode back to tarawera at a gallop. on my return with a party of troopers, ropes and torches, it took us a long time to extricate the poor fellow from his dangerous position, and he must have suffered great agony in being hauled up the steep bank of shifting shale; but at last we managed it, and got him back to the fort, where he soon become convalescent, his only regret, which was very deep--viz. the loss of his horse--being tempered by the fact that he had saved the brandy which had been entrusted to him. as for his own severe and painful injury, he cared nothing: it was certainly a nuisance; but it came in the day's march, and, as there was no fighting going on at the time, was not to be grumbled at. well, as i said before, good luck to him. if he is half as good in the pulpit as he was in the pigskin, the church gained what the legion lost, by his exchange of regiments. chapter xiv a gruesome flute (_told by the old kai tongata_) there was nothing of a picnic about the wars in new zealand. the cold-blooded massacres at poverty bay, mohaka, and scores of other places, as well as the vile tortures practised on any of our men who were unfortunate enough to fall alive into their hands, made us treat the hau haus with very scant mercy; and this savagery was not diminished by the brutal hardships, hunger, cold and toil we underwent while in pursuit of te kooti and his bands of bloodthirsty and fanatical followers. among these was a half-caste, the son of a very prominent white official. as a boy he had been sent to school by his father, and had been highly educated. he had then been entered for the law, but, committing a forgery, had fled to the bush and joined his mother's tribe, then in rebellion. to show and prove his maori blood, on joining them he had murdered, with his own hand, in cold blood, a number of helpless white women and children who had been taken prisoners; and this horrible crime, together with his ferocious courage in action, and further murders, perpetrated whenever he had the chance, caused him to be held in high repute by the hau haus and in bitter detestation by us. to such an evil notoriety had this fiend attained that his father, then high in the government, sent the unnecessary and quite superfluous order, that if his son were captured he was to receive no mercy. this order i carried myself to the officer commanding one of the flying columns that was then operating against rebels who by that time were getting considerably knocked about. it was most dangerous work, despatch-riding in new zealand. you had to travel through a rough and hostile country to find a moving column, or perchance a place the position of which was not known, and even the direction to it most uncertain. the hau haus, always on the look-out to catch the unfortunates employed on this job, would lay ambuscades in the long fern, alongside the footpaths, in such places as it was impossible to avoid passing, or at a ford you were obliged to cross. their dart was to kill your horse and take you alive, if possible, and then god help you if you were unable to blow your brains out--your death would be a very, very hard one. we lost numbers of men this way; and although no officer or man was ever known to shrink the duty, yet we hated it. on the arrival of this most unnecessary order to the column with which i was serving, being first for duty, it was my fate to have to carry it on to another column and then, provided i lived, to rejoin my colonel at the earliest possible moment. now i was aware of the contents of the despatch, and it did not make me more pleased with the job, as i knew i was running the most desperate risks to carry an order absolutely superfluous. long before the despatch had even been penned, had either of the three white columns been lucky enough to catch the bounder whose name was mentioned in it, he would have been shot on the spot; while if rapata and his friendly natives had rounded him up his end would have been quite as certain, though probably more complicated; and any orders on the subject were quite superfluous. well, i was warned to go, and went. i started at daylight, and after a long day's ride, during which i had a few squeaks for my bacon, i fortunately, just as evening was coming on, fell in with the column i was in search of, and delivered my despatches to the o.c. this column was composed of friendly natives, of course on foot, so i dismounted and joined the o.c., who was making for a camping-ground on which to pass the night. we had nearly reached the desired spot when a body of the enemy who, unaware of our presence, were making for the same place opened fire on us. the o.c. and myself were some short distance ahead of the majority of his men, who, after the usual way of native contingents, straggled a good deal when marching into camp. we, however, at once charged, and the enemy gave ground until we came to a long natural opening in the manuka scrub, through which we were moving, and which was about twenty yards across. here we halted and took cover, as we heard the hau hau leader shout to his men to turn and come back quickly, as there were only two white men by themselves and they, the hau haus, could kill them before the others came up. we stood our ground, as we knew our men were close up, and we both carried carbines. all at once i saw a man on the other side of the opening aiming at my companion, and i at once fired and knocked him over; at the same moment my companion fired and hit a man i could not see, but who was aiming at me. our men just then rushed up, and we continued the charge; but the enemy had bolted, and as night was falling fast we did not pursue them, but went up to the two men we had put out of mess. my man was quite dead, and was quickly recognised as a man of no great consequence, though of some reputation as a fighting man. the other one, however, was only wounded, but refused to tell us who he was, and to our questions replied by using the greatest insult in the maori language--_i.e._ called us boiled heads. having a suspicion as to his identity, the o.c. tore the breast of his shirt open, and there across his breast was tattooed the much-cursed name. well, if he had lived like a beast, he met the death of a beast without flinching. two years later, after the wars were over, i was again crossing that part of the country and rode a little out of my way to the scene of the fight, to see if there were any traces of the men we had killed. sure enough the skeleton of the half-caste was at the very spot on which he had fallen. dismounting, i picked up a leg-bone, slipped it under my wallet straps and rode away. later, i had it made up into a maori flute by an old native--they used to make all sorts of useful and ornamental instruments out of human bones--and hung it on the wall of my quarters among other trophies and curios. some time after i was visited by the very official who had been father to this half-caste. he examined my collection of curiosities with some interest, and catching sight of the flute, said: "oh, i used to tootle a bit on a maori flute in my young days." then taking it down he tootled a "wyetta" (a maori song). little did he think he was playing a tune on the leg-bone of his own son; and i was not such a bally fool as to tell him. let sleeping dogs lie is an old and true aphorism, and i did not wish to stir up bitter family recollections by reminding him of a dead one; besides, he was a very big pot indeed, and the head of my department, so that a discreet silence as to who had been the original owner of that flute was sound policy. chapter xv the doctor and the sentry years ago in new zealand there was a chain of forts stretching from the sea to the centre of the island. these forts were intended to keep open the road that had been constructed at great trouble and expense, on which a coach ran every week, conveying the mails and passengers to and from the wonderlands of taupo and rotomahana. the headquarters of the district was at a place called opepe, and consisted of a strong stockaded fort on the top of a pumice-stone hill, or, rather, i should say on a flat piece of ground surrounded by steep-sided gullies, which made it into a hill, and contained sufficient area for the fort and a parade ground. through the gully in front ran the road, and on the other side of the road were the troopers' stables and a hotel for coach passengers, which also held the troopers' canteen. the fort was approached by a zigzag path cut out of the hill, which was here perpendicular, and on the top of the path was posted a sentry. now among the officers stationed at headquarters was a doctor who had medical charge of the district. as far as his profession went, he had scarcely anything to do. the men were all picked men, most of them young; and in that splendid climate, with plenty of good, healthy work to do, sickness was almost unknown. this was very fortunately the case, as the doctor, having, perhaps, too much spare time on his hands, and caring nothing for sport, devoted that time to the worship of bacchus and, at the time i write about, had become scarcely fit to attend to a crocodile, much less a human being. had he not given the regimental sergeant-major a dose for a cold that made that ancient warrior tie himself into complicated knots, then dance and squirm for a week, and even curse him for a year afterwards with a fervency that made the atmosphere tingle and the blue sky grow cloudy? yes, it was fortunate the men were a healthy lot, and the doctor's medicine was not in demand. the medico's appearance was also decidedly against him. he wore his hair and whiskers, which were white, very long. his face was very red, and his nose, bulbous in shape, was purple in colour. he was, moreover, very slovenly in dress and dirty in his habits. it was strange he, being an irishman by birth, should be morose and ill-tempered when sober (i beg his pardon. i don't think i ever saw him really sober), and far from amusing when drunk. so, taking him in the large, he was neither popular nor respected by his brother-officers nor by the men. he had never been on active service, was very nervous of being sent on it, and had a holy dread of fire-arms of all sorts. well, this beauty made it his habit to go down to the hotel every night and booze there by himself. the men's canteen was closed at . p.m., and lights-out was blown at ten. the doctor would leave the hotel at . and proceed up the hill to his quarters; and as by this time he was quite full up, he would climb the steep zigzag path on his hands and knees, and refuse to answer the challenge of the sentry. this caused trouble; he was reported over and over again and the o.c. reprimanded him once or twice, till at last, determining to give him a fright, he ordered the sentry to be served out with some blank ammunition, and that if the doctor again refused to answer the challenge, he was to let rip at him with a blank charge. the following night the doctor began his crab-like ascent. "halt, who goes there?" rang out the challenge. no answer. twice again the challenge was repeated. still no answer. bang went the carbine. a loud yell from the medico, and he rolled over and over to the foot of the hill. promptly the guard turned out. down the hill they ran and found the doctor much shaken by his roll, and sobered by his fright. they brought him up, and next morning at office he complained to the o.c., and charged the sentry with trying to murder him, swore that he had heard the bullet whiz just past his ear, and that it was dangerous to trust a sentry with such a thing as a carbine. the o.c. listened to him and told him he could not punish the sentry for firing at him, as he was performing his duty by doing so, but he would severely reprimand him for making such a bad shot, and the next sentry who missed him would be severely punished. this put the fear of the lord into the doctor; but the force of habit was too strong for him, and the following night he was down at his usual haunt, filled up, and started at . , his usual time, to return in his usual manner; but he took unusual precautions. no sooner had he crept across the road than he started howling at the top of his voice: "friend, friend, friend"; and so on up the hill, past the laughing sentry and guard, across the parade ground and crawled into his quarters, still yelping his protecting cry. this went on for a few nights, until one day he had to visit an out-station. he stayed there that day, got full up and started to return home that night. he must have fallen off his old pony and slept in the fern, for he did not turn up till a.m. next morning. then, having handed over his nag to the stable orderly, he immediately made for the hotel, and began to freshen his nip with more liquor. that day there was a commanding officer's parade, and at o'clock all the officers and men fell in. by . the inspection was over and the men standing at ease, previous to the drill commencing, when the howl of "friend, friend!" was heard coming nearer and nearer. it seems that the doctor, true to the clock, had filled up, and at his usual time, but, oblivious to the fact that it was . a.m., and not . p.m., was making the best of his way to his lair and, by way of protection against the possible murderous attack of the sentry, was singing his usual ditty of "friend, friend!" presently he appeared over the crest of the hill on his hands and knees, crawling across the parade ground towards the quarters, still uttering his doleful howl, when, glancing up, he saw the long line of men looking at him. he staggered to his feet and gazed at them for a full minute, with horror and consternation depicted on his face, then yelled out, "o blessed st bridget, they mean to kill me this night. sure, they've mounted one hundred bally sentries, and they can't all miss me." with that he reeled away, looking over his shoulder and, still yelling his shibboleth of "friend, friend!" ran to earth in the welcome portal of his stronghold. this spectacle was too much for the risibility of the parade; officers and men went into a roar of laughter, which could not be checked for some time. next morning the doctor was informed he must resign or stand a court-martial. he did the former, and we got rid of him, while he retired to some place where he could indulge in his favourite pastime without running into danger from a murderous sentry or of the unkind remarks of a censorious commanding officer. chapter xvi how kiwi saved his clothes new zealand is, of course, famous for its natural beauties and wonders, among them the hot lakes and the terraces of pink and gleaming white stone. the latter, unfortunately, were destroyed by volcanic eruption in the eighties, but, i believe, are forming again. on one occasion when i was located in the hot lake district several prominent colonial officials, with their wives, came up, and i had to show them round. on lake rotorua we had two large whale-boats, and it was arranged that the party should be taken along the lake in these, to the island mokoia, the scene of the romantic story of o hinemoa and tutanekai (the maori hero and leander). the maori yarn differs from the greek, as it was the young lady who did the swimming part of the business, and the hussy was not drowned. mokoia has also been the scene of ruddy war, for it was on this island the arawa tribe took refuge from a dreadful raid of the ngapuhi tribe, under that bloodthirsty monster hongi, who, from the year - , raged through the north island of new zealand like a plague, and destroyed over one-fourth of its inhabitants. [illustration: te tarata: the famous white terraces, rotomahana.] he was one of the first maoris who visited england, having been brought there by kendal to help professor lee with his maori grammar and dictionary. while in england he was much lionised, and received many valuable gifts. he was presented to george iv., who made him presents of a suit of armour and other valuable articles. on his return to sidney he sold all his presents, with the exception of the suit of armour, and bought muskets with ammunition. while in sidney a grim story is told of him. at kendal's dinner-table he met another maori chief belonging to a tribe hostile to the ngapuhi. quoth he to his fellow-guest: "go home, make ready for war, and prepare to be killed and eaten." landing in new zealand, he swept the country bare, killing thousands and eating all he could. at last came the turn of the arawa. sweeping down the east coast, he landed at maketu and twice defeated the arawa, who retired inland and took refuge in their stronghold, the island of mokoia. he followed them and camped on the edge of the lake. every morning the arawa, confident in their fancied security, used to paddle past his camp and cheek him. i do not know if they used to place their thumbs to their noses and stretch their fingers out at him, but they poked fun at him and asked him rude questions, such as: how did he expect to come to makoia? was he growing wings like a duck, or, perchance, fins like a fish? etc., etc. naught would reply the grim old warrior, as he sat, surrounded by his cannibal chiefs, on the high bank of the lake, to his enemy's ribaldry; but he took the opportunity to tapu the splendid canoes as they dashed past him, the jeering crews showing them off to the best advantage. "my skull is the bailing pot of that canoe," said hongi, pointing to the largest and best one. this was a most awful assertion, but it rendered that canoe sacred to hongi, as who, at the division of spoil, could claim a canoe the bailing pot of which was hongi's skull, the most tapu part of his body. this went on day after day, while hongi was having his big war canoes transported from the sea, up creeks, across land, over a range of bushed hills, and through lakes to the scene of action. first of all up a creek, then he had a road cut through a forest, covering a range of hills, until he launched them on lake roto ehu. again, he cut a road through a forest, and launched them on lake roto iti and then up a rapid creek till they emerged on lake roto rua. now, poor arawa, you will find out to your cost how hongi is coming to mokoia! one morning, as the arawa were preparing for their usual daily amusement, they saw, to their horror and consternation, the advancing fleet of their bloodthirsty enemies. the time for jeering and laughter had passed, some tried to escape and a few succeeded, the others stood and fought the hopeless fight of spears and stones versus muskets. the canoes drew near the island and hongi opening fire on the hapless defenders, shot them down in heaps, then, landing, killed or enslaved all that remained of the arawa tribe. the ovens, surrounded with the crumbling bones of the victims, remain still to mark the spot where scores of the unfortunate arawa were cooked and eaten; and these, with ohinemoa's natural hot bath, are the two show places on the beautiful green hill that sits like a gem on the bosom of the dark blue lake. after we had visited mokoia we were to descend the rapid creek up which hongi had brought his canoes and inspect roto iti. the boats were manned by young maoris of splendid physique, whom i dressed for the occasion very prettily, in shirts and trousers of white cotton, with black silk neckerchiefs. they were very proud of themselves in these smart, unaccustomed clothes. when we came to the shallow water, at the head of the creek, it would be necessary for these fellows to jump out of the boat to lighten her, and drag her over into deep water; and i warned them that as english ladies did not like to see men without clothes on they must jump overboard in their smart suits. the three officials went into one of the boats by themselves, with a crew that knew no english, as they wanted to discuss important business, and i escorted the ladies in the other boat. we landed at mokoia, and i showed them the bath and the gruesome ovens, and told them the tales of love and war, and then we re-embarked to visit roto iti. all went well till we reached the shallows at the head of the creek; here the boat grounded and i ordered the crew overboard to push her along. all obeyed and plunged in with their clothes on, as instructed, with one exception. this was the stroke oar, a fine young maori named kiwi, who spoke broken english and was the son of a principal chief. he was very proud of his smart new clothes, and when the other fellows sprang into the water he sat tight. his mates called to him for help, and seeing he did not move i ordered him overboard. but he meant to preserve that suit. with a deep sigh he took off the black silk neckerchief, next he stripped off that immaculate white shirt. he looked at the water, and then at his lovely white trousers. then, with sudden inspiration, he touched the principal lady on the shoulder and said in a deep whisper of despair: "you no like to see me: you look that way." and in another moment he had whipped off his last thread of clothing and joined his comrades in the water. the lost dinner some time after the new zealand wars ended pierre de feugeron settled down at a maori village called wairoa, situated at the head of lake tarawera, and there built himself a two-roomed shanty, which he called the maison de repos, and offered to entertain any tourists visiting the wonders of rotomahana. now pierre was a miraculous cook. he could make a good dinner out of anything, and there is no doubt he would have done well but for his great failing, drink--in his case spelt with a very, very big d. for no sooner had he been remunerated by one lot of tourists than he would at once make off to ohinimutu, where there was a drink shanty, and blow the lot. he was indeed a queer character. in appearance, he was big enough, and looked ferocious enough, for a stage brigand, wearing his hair long and a huge beard. in reality he was as kind-hearted and simple as a child, and, notwithstanding his past life of bloodshed and adventure, he was just as harmless as one. pierre was also great on politics, in more ways than one, for his special brand would depend on the number of tots he had absorbed. when sober he was a legitimist, after he had had a drink or two an imperialist, a few more made a republican of him, and as he got full up he became a communist, an anarchist and a ruddy red. at this stage he would become an awe-inspiring object indeed. armed with a tomahawk in one hand and a huge knife in the other, he would dance a war-dance of the most blood-curdling description, and with rolling r's emit horrible wild yells, in french, broken english and maori, sufficient, unless you had known him, to daunt the courage of bayard himself. yet when the non-com. on duty considered that pierre had _ranged_ himself enough, he only had to send a maori kid to him, with the intimation that the guardroom required him, and pierre, dropping the bombastes furioso business, would immediately make a bee-line for that hospitable abode and fall asleep, sobbing over the sorrows of la belle france. well, it was my duty to escort round the hot lakes any big pot the government chose to send up to me, and the governor, once a year, used to come round, with a large party, and visit the wonders of the district, which, of course, included the marvellous terraces. a noble marquis was at this time proconsul in new zealand, and when i received warning of his advent i also received the straight tip that his excellency, a _bon-vivant_, dearly loved a good dinner, so i determined he should have nothing to complain of while under my care. now it was customary for the governor to camp a night at wairoa _en route_ to the terraces, and also to stay another night there on the return journey, so i determined, albeit with grave doubts, to engage pierre to take charge of the culinary department for the two nights we should be there. for the first night i had no anxieties, as i had kept pierre closely confined to the guardroom for the preceding fortnight; but i was very nervous about the day that i should be at the terraces with the party, when pierre, perchance getting hold of some of the liquor, might raise cain and wreck the dinner. however, i put my trust in providence, and also in the discretion and vigilance of the reliable old non-com. who would be left in charge of the camp during my absence, and to whom i gave instructions to keep a very sharp eye on pierre and his movements; so, hoping for the best, i received his excellency with equanimity. the first night all went well. pierre served up such a _recherché_ dinner that the governor sent for him to be congratulated, and in his enthusiasm offered the old chap a drink. alas! i dare not interfere, though well i knew this meant trouble; for the first tot to pierre was like the first taste of blood to a tiger. pierre picked up a bottle of brandy, and pouring out a bosu'n's nip, drank it off to the health of ze governor, ze great queen victoria, and ze great napoleon, and then took himself off, but, _horrible dictu_, he also took the bottle with him. unfortunately, just at that moment my whole attention was drawn from him by a lady questioning me about his adventures, so he escaped with his plunder without my observing the act. i left the table as soon as possible, and sought out pierre, whom i found walking about on his tiptoes, looking scornfully at the troopers, while he informed them that he himself was pierre de feugeron, ze grand scout. he also demanded their attention, that he himself, and no other man, was pierre de feugeron, ze grand _cordon-bleu_, who had cooked dinners for the emperor, and that the great reine victoria had sent for him to cook ze dinner for herself. le bon dieu save ze queen, ip ip---- he had just reached this stage when i reached for him, and ze grand _cordon-bleu_ retired at the double to his hut; but, alas! i knew nothing about that plundered bottle, which he had planted before my advent. the next morning, after an early breakfast, and after i had reiterated my cautions to the non-com., and my warnings and threats to pierre, we started in canoes for rotomahana, where the governor and his party enjoyed themselves thoroughly, returning in the evening to wairoa. now i must confess that although i placed great faith in both providence and the non-com., yet black care sat on my soul like a wet blanket; and this would have been considerably enhanced had i but known that a sudden stampede of the horses had forced away the non-com. and his men, leaving pierre alone in camp to work his wicked will. all the way back in the canoes the conversation turned on gastronomy, and his excellency, well pleased with the day and having a forty-dollar appetite, looked forward to his dinner, and hoped it would be as good as the one on the previous night. i hoped so too; but coming events cast their shadows before them, and i had my doubts. at last we landed and climbed the steep hill that led to the flat on which the camp was pitched. alas! while still afar off i heard the wild war-whoops and blood-curdling yells i knew so well, and was assured that my very worst apprehensions were more than justified. i at once pushed on, the governor accompanying me, and on our reaching the camp there was our _cordon-bleu_, armed as per usual, dancing a war-dance that would have excited the envious admiration of a crazy hau hau. the governor paused for a moment, and stood aghast in astonishment at the horrible-looking object before us, then full of pluck, for of course he did not know how utterly harmless the old fellow was, rushed up to him and said soothingly: "pierre, how goes the dinner?" pierre briefly answered that the dinner had gone to a place where it must have been overcooked and spoilt long ago. but quoth his excellency: "i am so hungry." "and a ruddy good job too," howled pierre. "it is good for kings and governors to be hungry. i myself am pierre de feugeron, the great communist. i myself am pierre de feugeron, the noble anarchist, and i scorn to cook the dinners of kings and governors." then seeing the rest of the party, who by this time had arrived and were regarding him with awe and astonishment, he at once consigned the governor and the rest of us to the same place as he had committed the dinner, and was proceeding with his _pas seul_ when some maoris, acting on my instructions, took a hand in the game. exit the noble anarchist, to be tied to a tree for the night, to regain his loyalty, while i had to bustle about to knock up an impromptu dinner for my sorrowing and shocked guests. chapter xvii a south sea bubble "so we found no copper island, nor rapid fortunes made, but by strictly honest trading a dividend we paid. and maori browne converted, with an ancient flint-lock gun, a mob of ruddy pagans, beneath the southern sun." i was in auckland with a lot of spare time on my hands. i had come down-country intending to go over to australia, but, having been stuck up by a flooded river for two days, i had missed my boat, and consequently was planted there, as boats at that time were neither so numerous nor ran so often as they do now. on the morning after my arrival i was strolling down queen's street, wondering what i was to do with myself, when i was hailed from the other side of the road, and, looking in the direction from which the coo-ee came, i at once recognised the long red nose and brilliant scarlet hair of a man who had been our regimental surgeon during the past wars. his had been a hard case. out and out the best medical man we had in our service, as far as professional knowledge and skill went, he was still a born fighting man, and was always more anxious, while under fire, to damage the enemy than to repair friends. this inclination was somewhat held in check and restrained by the roman catholic chaplain, a great pal of his who was always in the firing line doing the best he could for any wounded man, be he papist or heretic. well, one day while on a patrol along the east coast, we had a scrap with a few maoris, and the doctor, who happened to be with us, to his huge delight, killed one. now i do not for a moment want to assert that this was the first man the doctor had ever killed. he had, doubtless, during the practice of his profession, killed very many, but it was the first hau hau who had ever fallen to his carbine; for, although a brilliant medico, he was a vile shot, and the dear doctor was greatly elated, so much so that he determined to have a trophy in commemoration of the event. now the maori was a fine big fellow of some rank, and had the skin on his thighs magnificently tattooed, so the doctor, wanting a _spolia opima, faute de mieux_ flayed off and preserved the tattooed portions of the bounder's epidermis, which he cured and subsequently had made into a tobacco pouch. he was very proud of this pouch, and was fond of exhibiting it and making people to whom he showed it guess from what material it was manufactured. he did so once too often; for one night after dining well, though not wisely, he exhibited it in the smoking-room of the club at wellington. the same official was present whose son's leg-bone was afterwards annexed and turned into a flute. he was at that time posing as a goody-goody minister; and, pretending to be shocked, brought such pressure to bear that he forced the medico to resign; and so we lost the services of our best doctor, and the company of a thundering good fellow. all this had happened some time before, and i had not seen him for over a year. we had been great friends, and i was under great obligations to him, as he had on several occasions mended me after i had been broken, and had even saved me my left leg when two other sawbones wanted to amputate it. so you can easily understand i was delighted to meet him, and we at once adjourned to perkins's saloon and proceeded to wet this auspicious meeting. well, no sooner had we lowered our first cocktail than the doctor demanded what i was doing in auckland, and on my telling him i had lost my boat he expressed unfeeling delight and thanked providence for sending and detaining me, as i was the very man he wanted, and i must take charge of a party he had raised to search the south seas for a copper island. now i had not lost a copper island, and should not have known what to do with it if i found one, yet the very mention of the south seas allured me like a honey-pot to a wasp. then as he went on to open out his plans, and tell me the names of the men who had joined him in his scheme, most of whom i knew well, i saw at once, copper island or no copper island, there was every chance of a rollicking good time. so when the men dropped in by twos and threes, perkins's saloon being their rendezvous, and all of them joining the doctor in persuading me, i quite gave way and consented to join with them and take command. a case of champagne was quickly ordered and consumed, drinking luck to the venture, and i found myself chief of forty as reckless, devil-may-care filibusters as ever banded themselves together. do not think, dear reader, we were going to hoist jolly roger, or anything of that sort. no, we were going to search through some of the least-frequented groups of islands to find one of pure copper, and we were all to return fabulously rich. if we could not find the copper island, we might yet find something else of value, and even failing that we would trade with the islanders, gentle or otherwise, for bêche-de-mer, whales' teeth, or anything else we thought could be disposed of to our advantage. trade, i say, not take; we signed articles as gentlemen adventurers with every liberty but no licence. we were, moreover, all of us highly respectable, very moral and well-brought-up young men. every one of us had served and seen years of active service, so all knew the value of discipline. most of us were public school boys, and although we might have found ourselves _de trop_ at an exeter hall spring meeting tea-party, yet we were quite fit to take our places and shine in the beau-monde that at that period graced the south seas. our party for the above purpose had chartered a very large and powerful american schooner, with a skipper, a yankee who knew the south seas well, and who turned out to be a rattling good fellow, two mates, a brace of cooks, a few china boys as flunkeys, and we worked her ourselves. strict discipline was to be maintained. every one of us had put a considerable sum of money into the venture; we all knew one another well, and two days after i had met the doctor we went to sea well armed, well found, and as good a crowd as ever set sail, without a single rotter amongst us. well, one lovely morning we got our anchor and glided out of the splendid harbour before a fine, fair wind, made our offing, then, setting every inch of muslin, started on our quest. the schooner proved herself to be very fast, and also, a few days afterwards, in a bit of a blow, showed herself, although a trifle wet, yet on the whole to be a really good sea boat. the skipper and mates not only proved themselves good seamen, but good fellows; so we were all well contented and looked forward to great profit and more fun. those were the days when a man yearning for excitement could have his fill in the south seas. everyone there did what he liked, unless a stronger man prevented him. those were the days when bully hayes, in his lovely brigantine, _leonora_, swept the seas and established a funk in everyone not too strong or too poor to fear him. bully bragg was still to the fore. the infamous brig, _karl_, and the psalm-singing scotch scoundrel who owned her had not yet been found out, and there were plenty more black bird-catchers, sandalwood traders and others always ready to grab and take anything, provided they were strong enough to do so. we had, however, nothing to fear from savage or picaroon: we were a strong party, with plenty of arms, and all of us well able to use them. we wished to interfere with no one, and whoever interfered with us must take the consequence. so we sailed on, enjoying the day and careless of the morrow. if i were to write half of what happened to us on that glorious trip it would fill books. we met bully hayes and hobnobbed with him, finding him the most obliging and courteous of men. but then we carried two twelve-pounders and fifty good rifles, so we deserved fair treatment, and received it. we landed on very many of the islands, and saw a good deal of the natives. their conduct was mixed. so was ours. we paid well for everything we required in the way of wood, water and fresh provisions, when they were civil to us, and when they were the other thing we still took our requirements, and they took the other thing. so we sailed on, strong in the knowledge of our rectitude and integrity, and confident in our ability to take care of ourselves. well, we had a rollicking good time of it. but we did not find that copper island, nor anything else we wanted of any great value. we therefore turned our attention to trading, in which peaceful pursuit we were very successful. our strength in numbers, our discipline, and our skill with our weapons, overawing most of the savage islanders, enabled us to put in with impunity to places where smaller parties dared not have ventured, and also ensured us fair treatment, a good market and prompt payment. so we prospered as gentlemen adventurers of a highly moral tone deserve to. one day we put in to an island where half the people, under the guidance of an old american missionary, had turned into what they called christians, the remaining half still retaining their ancient superstitions. the missionary was a dear, good old chap, as simple and confiding as a child, and it was very difficult to understand how such a cute nation as america could have produced such a man. i do not know to what brand of fancy religion he belonged, but he was not church of england or roman catholic. anyhow, he was a good man, and we respected him accordingly. now in a bit of a blow we had had a few days before we had been somewhat damaged, and seeing that the lagoon in which we were anchored was a very safe one, and the natives fairly civil, our skipper determined to remain a few days to complete the necessary repairs. so we landed a lot of stores, and started trading for bêche-de-mer, which animal the natives caught in large quantities. during our trading i made the acquaintance of the head devil dodger of the pagan crowd, and found him to be not half a bad old fellow. he was, naturally, rather bitter at the desertion of the half of his parishioners, and gave me to understand that his tithes had so decreased that he could barely make a living, and that the island was not, in his opinion, large enough to support two rival churches. so, judging i was a knowledgeable man, he asked my advice on this point. he also requested my active assistance to aid him in his endeavours to regain his rightful emoluments and status. his first proposal was that he should kill his rival sky-pilot; but that i forbade, and impressed on him the fact that if he hurt the missionary a ship of war would quickly come and blow him and his island galley west. he next proposed that i, to show my friendship, should oblige him so far as to kill the missionary for him. this proposition was, of course, decidedly negatived. then he suggested that i should at least shoot the boss convert, the next cause of my old friend's trouble. again i had to refuse, and explained to him that the quarrel was not mine, and that the white man's god only allowed us to kill one another in pukka (war). then he requested the loan of my rifle to do the deed with himself; but i opened the breech and let him look down the barrel, explaining to him that only a christian could use that weapon, as a heathen, not possessing the spirit of the true faith, might receive damage from the breech. he shook his head and intimated that it was a weary, weary world and full of disappointments. but an old flint-lock musket among the trade goods catching his eye, he begged to examine it, and seeing it had no opening at the breech he at once said that it was the very weapon he had dreamed of with which to right his wrongs. would i give it him? i am not a business man, but yet i suggested that i should like payment for it in bêche-de-mer or whales' teeth. alas! he was a poor man, he had none; but would i not lend him the gun, just to shoot one christian with? i pointed out the dangers he ran in attempting to do such a thing. the mana (spirit) of the christian god was far stronger than the mana of his pagan ancestors, and most likely if i lent him the musket it would only bring trouble on himself, and he would be sorry for it. he, however, refused to grasp my reasoning, sound as it was; so knowing quite well what would happen, i lent him the old flint-lock. he was delighted, and promptly borrowed two handfuls of coarse black powder to feed it with. these he carefully poured down it, then rammed home various chunks of coral, pebbles, etc., topping up with a fid of rag. at my earnest request he moved a short distance from my camp, to a spot where he dug a shallow hole in the sand, in which he lay dogo, and waited with great patience for his christian friend to come along. towards evening come along he did. i knew the bounder by sight and i did not admire him. christianity, as a rule, does not improve the manners of the gentle savage, and it certainly had not added to this johnny's stock of humility, for he swaggered along with as much side as a new-made lance jack, bumptious cheek being written all over him, in fact he looked the very quintessence of insolence and cheap pride. presently he arrived within a few yards of the spot where nemesis awaited him, and where he was to receive a shock that was to fill him with the fear of the lord for a considerable period of time. yes, indeed he was just within a yard or two of the little heap of sand that masked the old devil dodger's ambush when that ancient worthy rose up and, holding the old gun out at the full stretch of both arms, shut his eyes, pulled the trigger and let go. for a moment the powder fizzled in the touch hole, then off it went with the report and recoil of a -pounder. where the charge went the lord only knows, but the report, flame and smoke were quite enough for the christian. he turned and fled, and went round the bay, at a pace that would have won him any marathon race record in the world; and the last thing i saw of him was a black dot on the white beach, disappearing round a far cape and still travelling as if the devil had kicked him edgeways. if the report had upset the equanimity of the convert, the recoil had been equally deadly to the equilibrium of the pagan. struck full in the face by the heel-plate of the old gun, he turned at least three back somersaults; and when he came to the conviction that he was still on this planet he rose up, and after straightening out and arranging his scattered features, he went and looked at the old musket, and solemnly cursed it for at least ten minutes. then seeing it was now in a state of quietude, he gingerly picked it up and, holding it at arm's-length, brought it to me and handed it back, remarking sadly, with a shake of his head: "this gun is no good." here i joined issue with him, and declared it to be a very good gun indeed. had it not knocked him over and over again, and that with the peaceful end of it? had it not made him see more stars in a few minutes than he had ever before seen in his whole life? and if that was the case to himself, had not even the talk of it caused his enemy to run faster and farther than any mortal man had ever been known to run before? well, then, how much more damage would it not have done, with its business end, had it only been directed by a man who possessed proper mana in proportion to the strength of the gun? no, the gun was a good gun, and the fault clearly lay with himself. again i not pointed him out the dangers he ran in attacking a christian? had i not assured him that the mana of the white man's god was far stronger than the mana of his pagan deities? had he believed me and taken my advice? no. then who was to blame? why, undoubtedly himself; and consequently he had suffered for it. this he was forced to allow, but then the same question cropped up again. what was to be done? could i not give him some sound advice? why, certainly. the best course he could pursue would be for himself and people to at once turn christians, and then, if they obeyed the missionary implicitly, they would soon make up the leeway of mana that the others had acquired, and he would be on the same plane as the other josser. to this he agreed, and swore he and his people would be converted right away, and started off hot-toe to summon them. i had just finished telling my comrades about my first attempt at converting the heathen when who should appear but his reverence himself, in a terrible state of fluster. approaching me, he said sorrowfully: "surely i am misinformed: surely you did not lend a musket to one of these heathens with which to kill one of my dear christian converts." i pleaded guilty. "is it not written," i said, "'he that lendeth to the poor giveth to the lord'? this poor chap hadn't a musket of his own so i lent him one." the dear old fellow was very much shocked, but i convinced him that i was fully aware no harm would come from my perhaps injudicious kindness; and finally, on the appearance of my old friend, the knight of the rueful countenance, with his leading people, who one and all declared that they were convinced of the power of the christian god, and that they were all both anxious and willing to join his flock, his sorrow turned to gladness, and he declared that providence worked in wondrous ways, and that now he was convinced that our visit had been a great blessing to his community, although he had had at first grave doubts upon the subject. he also returned thanks for the sudden and wonderful conversion of the heathen, and declared that now the whole island would become the home of one happy family, living together in peace and harmony. i had my doubts; but he was such a good old fellow that we all turned to and built him a swagger church, and endowed it with a spare ship's bell we had on board. so that when we left the dear old innocent took a tearful farewell of us and gave us his blessing; and a really good man's blessing, like a tinker's cuss, does no one any harm. he also prophesied we should all meet again in heaven; but there again i have grave doubts, as i fancy most of our crew were making for a more tropical latitude. well, i have never heard of that island since the day we left it, and i have even forgotten its name; but i have always felt uncertain about the happy-family part of the business, and fear his reverence was premature in the thanks he gave concerning it. for on the day we left, on my presenting the exdevil dodger with an american axe, as a parting gift, he gravely informed me that he felt the mana of the christians rising so strongly within him that as soon as he had acquired a few more hymns and prayers he should feel strong enough to have another go at his enemy, and he thought, this time, he would fetch him, especially as my beautiful present would provide him with a beau-ideal weapon that would do its work quietly and not kick back and destroy its innocent proprietor. i may therefore be forgiven for my doubts on the brotherhood, peace and harmony of that happy family. i have never tried to convert any heathens since, but i sincerely hope that my one attempt proved, in the long run, as profitable as our trip to the south seas did for us. but may i again remark, i hae ma doots. [illustration: yarning around the camp fire] part ii chapter i the dÉbut of the lost legion in natal "there were giants in the earth in those days." moses. of course ninety-nine out of every hundred old war dogs who have the misfortune to retain their pristine longing for hard work and an active life, when they are rapidly approaching the allotted threescore years and ten of their existence, and maybe, like the writer, are incapacitated by rheumatism, sciatica, tic-doloreux, housemaid's knee, liver and the hump from ever participating again in such sports as their hearts yearn for but their age and infirmities render impracticable, sit down, and, instead of employing their remaining years in making their souls, grouse and grumble at their bad luck, blaming everyone except themselves (_bien entendu_) for their bad luck, and maybe poverty, entirely forgetting the glorious years they put in when they were able to lead a charge, rush a kopje, or back a bucking horse with the best. yes, and they are prone to belittle, and perhaps to undervalue, the men who have shouldered them out and taken their places in the fighting line, and who are at present responsible for and are upholding the honour of our gracious king and glorious old flag on the frontiers of our splendid empire. "yes, by gad, sir," growls one old war dog to another, "these present men are not worth their salt, sir. they should have been with us, sir, fifty years ago, then they would have known what privations and hand-to-hand fighting meant. nowadays they are fitted out with flat trajectory magazine rifles, maxim guns, pom-poms, and the lord only knows what else, while we had to fight with old muzzle-loading rifles, sneiders or martini-henry's that were always jamming, etc., etc., etc." grouse, grumble, grouse: and so they go on _ad infinitum_. yes, it is very true men who are approaching the age-limit of threescore years and ten had in their early manhood to fight with inferior rifles to those that our gallant troops are armed with at present, and, speaking from personal experience, deuced good weapons we thought them, and were always game and happy enough to use them when luck sent any fighting our way. well, i have no doubt that in those days our seniors were making the same remarks and passing similar strictures on us, that we nowadays are passing on our successors, and as they in their turn will bestow on theirs. still there is no doubt that, thanks to science and the enormous expenditure of cash, the lot of the present-day fighting-man is infinitely better than it was fifty years ago, while far more men and much better material were employed on a war of conquest during the sixties and the seventies of the last century than were deemed necessary fifty years previously; in fact you may say it has been so way back to the days of romance, when samson used to play a lone hand against the philistines, or even when sir galahad and his compeers used to start out holy-grailing, giant-killing, dragon-hunting or lovely-maiden-rescuing. true, there are nothing like the hardships in modern wars there were in those of the past, although i opine that the turks have just had about as bad a time of it as ever men wanted to face; but then it has been sharp, quick and soon over, and entirely due to their rotten government allowing them to be caught on the hop. (please god the precious gang who at present misrule our country will not put us into a like hole.) still i doubt very much at the present day if you could get troops of any nation to voluntarily face the hardships that pizarro's men had to undergo during the conquest of peru, or any of our young sybaritic loungers to don aluminium waistcoats (much less steel ones) and go for a jaunt crusading as their hardy ancestors did. but, mark time, the majority of the progenitors of our nowadays gilded youths were in those times trading in old clo's or doing a bit of stiff and not wearing metal vests and unmentionables at all at all. however, we will pass over the good ould toimes, when a rale fighting-man had no need to insure himself with lloyd george against unemployment, and comedown to the nineteenth century--in fact the years - , when there were but few english in natal, and the black fiend, dingaan, who had murdered his brother tshaka, ruled the roost in zululand with his army of , bloodthirsty warriors. i am not writing a book on the history of natal, but, as out of every englishmen have probably never heard of tshaka or dingaan, and are just as ignorant of the struggles of the early settlers in the garden colony of south africa, i may state that, although natal was not officially occupied by british troops till , when captain smith of the th regiment marched there with a portion of his corps and a detachment of artillery and built a fort near kongella, in which he was speedily surrounded and besieged by the trek boers under pretorius: yet small parties of englishmen (good lost legionaries every one of them) had years previously taken root in the vicinity of where durban now stands, where they carried on the usual pioneer pursuits, such as hunting and trading with the natives. yes; they had taken root, and meant to hold their own and stick to their foothold in the country, notwithstanding the jealousy and secret enmity of large parties of trek boers, who were crowding into natal for the purpose of forming a dutch republic there. well, the year had been a hot one for the boer trekkers, as in the early part of it pieter retief, a chief, one of their most influential commandants, together with seventy picked boers and from thirty to forty picked hottentots, having visited dingaan's kraal for the purpose of making a treaty, were inveigled, unarmed, into the cattle enclosure, overpowered and brutally murdered. this act of treachery the savage monster quickly followed up with a lightning raid into natal, during which over boers, men, women and children, were butchered with fiendish barbarity. this raid he continued down to port natal, where the aforementioned few englishmen were forced to take refuge on board two ships that, providentially, happened to be in the harbour. later on in the year the boer war punitive expedition, under the celebrated commandant piet uys, were ambushed and badly worsted, having to fall back, with the loss of their o.c. and many men, so that the year is still regarded by the dutch inhabitants of south africa as a very black year indeed. now the zulu raid to port natal had upset the equilibrium of the english settlers, who, being moreover very savage at the losses they had sustained, determined to pay back the zulu potentate in his own coin. first of all they volunteered to join piet uys' commando, but as he entered zululand from the north they were left behind, and so determined to form a punitive column of their own. and, now i have reeled off this prosy prelude, let me tell you how it was i first heard of the exploits of the first band of english lost legionaries, who, although fighting for their own hand, made the english pioneers in natal respected and feared by both boer and savage, while the story also convinced your humble servant that, no matter how good he fancied himself and his lambs to be, still, in the near past, there were better and more daring men tailing on to the halyards of the old rag than either he individually or all his flock collectively were. and now let me trek. it was during the latter end of december , just previous to the zulu war, and forty years after the aforementioned incidents had occurred in natal history, that i was trekking through the thorn country from grey town to rourke's drift, together with the staff of the rd n.n.c., and we were camped for the day on the banks of the tugela river, when there arrived, at the same outspan, an old interior trader, trekking out of zululand. now, as i was particularly anxious to gain all the information i could about that country, i entered into conversation with him, and eventually he accepted my invitation to come over to my waggon, have some lunch and a yarn. tiffin having been discussed and pipes lit we were chatting on the probabilities of the coming war when he noticed my m.h. sporting carbine and heavy b.l. revolver that my servant had just cleaned, and at once requested permission to examine them. after he had done so, and i had explained to him the mechanism of the carbine and the flatness of its trajectory in comparison with the sneider with which he himself was armed, he heaved a sigh, and handing back the weapon said: "ah, if the first english army that invaded zululand had been provided with such guns, instead of old flint muskets, they might have won the day." smelling a yarn i replied: "i thought no english army had ever invaded zululand up to date." my guest smole the pitying smile that an old-timer usually employs when a new chum exhibits his ignorance or puts his foot into it and queried: "did you ever hear of cane?" "oh yes," quoth i; "if you mean the cockatoo agriculturist who had the first row with the boss of the original sheep-raising industry, i have heard of him." "no," responded my companion; "the party i allude to was no relation of his--did not even spell his name the same way, though both of them were handy with their dukes, and prone to go for their neighbours when riled. by the way, what is the strength of your invading force?" "oh," said i, "about white men and an equal number of natives." "and i suppose," queried he, "all your white men are armed with m.h. rifles, and that you will take three or four batteries of artillery, rockets, etc., and that a percentage of your natives will be armed with rifles?" i nodded assent. "well," he continued, "the first english army which invaded zululand, when dingaan was at the zenith of his power, consisted of englishmen, perhaps half-a-dozen dutchmen, hottentots and about natal kafirs, and they had only old m.l. muskets to the whole outfit." "oh, come," said i; "you're trying to pull my leg." "devil a bit," said he. then he spun me the following yarn, which anyone may verify by perusing the late mr d. c. f. moodie's book, "the history of the battles and adventures of the british, the boers and the zulus in south africa," from which volume i have not only refreshed my memory, but have cribbed many paragraphs, which i shall quote during my narration, as i consider the whole story to be so incredible that it requires the evidence of an historian who, although not present himself at the battle, was yet alive at that time and who both knew and conversed with the survivors of the invasion. after the raid made by dingaan on port natal, in , two englishmen, named john cane and robert biggar, together with a few other british adventurers smarting under the losses they had sustained, determined to retrieve them and avenge their injured feeling by making a raid into zululand, for which purpose they mustered britishers, or dutchmen, hottentots who were first-class, up-to-date fighting men and less than kafirs. the number of fire-arms this motley outfit possessed was old-fashioned muskets, which number included a few rifles and sporting guns of that epoch, the great majority of the kafirs carrying only their shields and assegais, and this expeditionary force they called the grand army of natal. thus equipped, these daring lost legionaries crossed the tugela in february , and entered a mountainous broken country, where one of the most bloodthirsty despots that providence ever allowed to exist awaited them, with an army of over , highly trained warriors who had never before been beaten. long odds, my gentle reader? yes; too long odds even for a bellicose irishman wid his back teeth awash wid the crater. still, they did it, and now i am going to quote moodie. having crossed the tugela river the advance guard encountered some zulu spies, and fired upon them, thus opening the ball. ascending the opposite hill they came upon the kraal of "endonda kusuka"--that is, tardy in starting--and surrounded it before daylight. a detachment of dingaan's army was lying there, upon whom they opened fire with their guns; when the inmates of the huts, finding the firing directed low, took hold on the tops of the huts, holding by the sticks which formed the wattle-work. this plan was, however, quickly detected, on account of the huts sinking with the pressure, when the settlers directed their fire higher up, and the people fell, wounded or dead. the whole kraal was destroyed, the people being killed and the huts burnt. as the morning of this awful day dawned, many of those who were attacked lying dead and others being in the pangs of death, one of them said: "you may do with me as you please, and kill me; but you will soon see and feel the great elephant"--meaning dingaan's army. the elephant soon appeared, and crushed them to death under his ponderous feet. the land was very hilly, the hills stretching out something like the fingers of a man's hand when extended, rising to ridges in the centre, and descending to deep ravines on each side; the kraal being near the top of one of these ridges and reaching down the slopes on each side. it was at a short distance from this kraal that the great elephant presented himself and uttered his piercing cry and terrific scream, which, coming from thousands of infuriated savages, wrought to the highest pitch of frenzy, must have had an appalling effect, being enough to make the stoutest heart quail. dingaan did not appear in person in this notable battle, nor were the old warriors allowed to fight, the young men being destined to win the highest honours, and take the weapons of their foes as trophies to perpetuate the memory of their conquest. the zulu captains commanding were umahlebe, zulu and nongalazi. these, with the old warriors, took their stand on the hill, from whence they could see all that passed, and issue their commands accordingly. seven zulu regiments were brought into the field of action. they were flushed with three successive victories--first, the cutting-off of relief and his party at the great place; second, the slaughter of the boers in the weenen district; and third, the defeat of uys and the dispersion of his people. besides they were full of rage at the loss of their cattle, women and children at utunjambeli, and the destruction of the kraal before their eyes, for which they were burning to be revenged. these circumstances led them to fight with a fury which could only be quenched in death. when they were shot down, if they could crawl, they would take an assegai and try to inflict a fatal stab on one of their bitter foes, rendering it needful to fire upon them again and again until dead. the natal army had therefore to fight with the vigour of men whose lives were in a fearful balance, and who were made desperate by the greatness of the impending danger. they were drawn up near the kraal in question, the english and hottentots with muskets in front, and the native aids with assegais in the rear. the first division of the zulu army came on with a fearful rush, but were met by the steady fire and deadly shots of their foes, which cut them down like grass. they were checked, broken, driven back and defeated, many lying dead and dying at the feet of the settlers. robert joyce, or, as he was called, bob joyce, a deserter from the nd regiment, had ten men under him with guns, besides kafirs; and such fearful execution did they do that they cut a pathway through the zulu regiment as they approached, until the zulu commanders ordered a change in the mode of attack. the first division, however, only retreated to make way for the zulu forces to come from different points favoured by the formation of the hill. cane sent ogle's kafirs to attack the zulus on the south-west, whilst he, with the main body of the natal army, took the north-east. when ogle's kafirs had dispersed these, they were to come round and take the zulus in the flank; instead of which, the hour of revenge being come for some affront which they received at cane's hands, when they had dispersed the zulus they fled to the drift, on which the zulu chiefs exclaimed: "o ganti baka balegane"--_i.e._ "they can run, can they?" the sight of them running inspired fresh courage into the zulus, who now closed in from all quarters upon the diminished natal army, coming down as an overwhelming flood, the mighty masses of which it was impossible to resist. the strife was deadly in the extreme. the zulus lost thousands of their people: they were cut down until they formed banks over which those who were advancing had to climb, as well as over the wounded, crawling and stabbing, tenacious of life, and selling it dearly. cane fought hard and died of his wounds. a fine old kafir who was present gave me a description of his death. he was questioned about other matters, but as soon as he came to this his eyes appeared to flash with excitement and his hands moved in all forms to express the firing of the guns and the stabbing with the assegais. he took a stick and held one point to his breast to show where the assegai entered cane's chest. he then gave his companion another stick, to show how a second assegai was buried between cane's shoulders, cane's gun was lying on his left arm, his pipe in his mouth, his head nodding until he fell from his horse and died. his horse was killed close by. the last deed of this man was tragical. one of his own people who had thrown away his badge was coming to snatch the assegai from his back when cane, supposing him to be a zulu, shot him at once over his shoulder. stubbs, another of the englishmen, was stabbed by a boy, and when he felt it was his death wound exclaimed: "am i to be killed by a boy like you?" biggar fell close by. the natal army being surrounded and cut up, heaps of slain lay dead upon the field, to be devoured by beasts of prey, their bones being left to bleach under many summer suns. the work of destruction was, however, not yet complete. no sooner had the leaders fallen than the natal kafirs threw away their badges and shields, and seized the shields of the zulus in order to favour their escape, whilst the swiftness with which they could run was their best defence. but in making their escape the zulus knew their ground, and that the river must be crossed, and they therefore so surrounded them as to compel them to take one only course. in flight then these wretched beings had no alternative but to take a path at the bottom of which there is a descent of feet perpendicular to the river, having deep water at the bottom, and so numerous were the bodies heaped upon each other in this great grave that at length, instead of leaping, they walked over the bodies of those who filled the chasm. one of those who made the leap was upepe, who was stabbed as he went under water by a zulu, who cursed him and said: "i have finished you"; but the death wound was not given, for the man escaped. in order to complete the dire destruction of this day of blood and death, a division of zulus were sent round to cut off those who might escape by the river. these men were to be seen up to the armpits in the stream, stabbing any who might be in danger of escaping; and very few gained the opposite bank and lived. it was here that another leader, blankenburg, was killed. of the few who escaped, some swam, some dived, and some floated along, feigning to be dead. one goba crossed the river four times and was saved at last. petrus roetrzie, or "piet elias" as better known by many, entered the river lower than most of the others, and got into the long reeds of the opposite bank, where the zulus searched for him in vain. in this terrible battle fell john cane, robert biggar, john stubbs, thomas carden, john russell,--blankenburg, richard wood, william wood, henry batt, john campbell,--lovedale and thomas campbell, with two or three other white men, leaving not a dozen to return and tell the tale of woe. of the hottentots three or four returned; and of the kafirs very few except ogle's. the few who escaped arrived at home singly, many of them having been pursued nearly to the bay of durban, owing their deliverance to the shelter of the bush and the darkness of the night. most of the particulars herein recorded i can vouch for as being correct, having conversed with several who were engaged in the transaction, and others who were residing in natal at the time. here endeth the extract that i have taken from moodie's aforementioned history. now, judging by the foregoing account of the battle of the tugela--which it must be remembered has been extracted, word for word, from a history written by a knowledgeable gentleman of undoubted veracity, who not only knew the survivors of the action, but had heard the yarn from their own lips, and that the story told me by the old trader who also had been acquainted with the majority of the men composing the english army, he being a full-grown boy at the time, and resident in port natal, coincided and agreed with mr moodie's narrative in all the principal details--i think i am not far wrong when i assert that the battle of the tugela was a scrumptious one, in which every man engaged must have enjoyed himself to the utmost of his ability, and no one could subsequently grumble at not getting his fair share of the fighting. yet when you come to consider the numbers and equipment of that invading force, and compare them with the resources at lord chelmsford's disposal when he began to play the same game, just forty years afterwards, and which were then declared to be inadequate, you are forced to come to the conclusion that cane and his lost legionaries were a bit over-venturesome. for looking back at my own experience in the legion, i do not think i could ever have found twenty men daring enough to undertake the same contract, and i am quite certain that, even had the men been willing, i individually should never have possessed sufficient pluck to have bossed the show. the story of cane and his daring companions, unheard of in england, is, i fear, being rapidly forgotten in south africa, but should any patriotic natalian with imperialistic convictions wish to perpetuate the memory of those gallant adventurers, who, in despite of boers, savages, the devil, and the gasbags of downing street, formed the advance guard of the settlers in his lovely country, and see fit to raise a subscription to build a cairn in commemoration of the pluck, or call it foolhardiness--if you like--of the first army of natal, i, poor old sinner as i am, will gladly plank down my mite. yes, by gad! i will, even if i have to forgo my baccy for a month to raise the oof. for, by the great gun of athlone! those men were men, and died like men, and may the british empire never run short of lost legionaries of like kidney! and now, before the call of "lights out" is sounded, let me relate briefly another deed of daring, performed by one of the old-time natal settlers, and as i am not writing a history of natal, but only recounting a few well-authenticated facts of heroic bravery, carried through by a handful of lost legionaries, it will suffice to remind my reader that port natal was occupied for the first time by british regular troops in may , when captain smith ( th regiment), with men and two field pieces, arrived there. he at once entrenched himself on the flat ground near where the city of durban now stands, in which camp he was speedily surrounded, and cooped up by an overwhelming number of trek boers. this rendered it absolutely necessary for the beleaguered o.c. to communicate with his superiors at the cape, so as to warn them of his dangerous position, and to request immediate reinforcements. but how to communicate was the problem that required solving, and it was solved, thanks to the devotion and undauntable courage of one of the early settlers, who promptly volunteered to carry the despatch. now despatch-carrying during war-time is by no means a salutary occupation, even when the distance is short, and the country over which it has to be carried is open, with decent roads. what then is the said duty to be called, when the bearer has to traverse a distance of miles, through thick bush, dangerous swamps, rugged mountains, and across innumerable rivers, very many of which have to be negotiated by swimming. also please bear in mind that this delectable country through which the orderly must travel swarmed with hostile tribes, and was infested with wild animals, such as lions, leopards, elephants, etc. troth, i call such a contract a decidedly unhealthy one. yet such was the nature of the road richard king had to travel alone, and bedad! he did it so successfully, for after being ferried across the harbour with two horses, on the night of the th may , he slipped past the boer pickets, and overcoming all the difficulties, and passing through all the manifold dangers met with on the journey, he delivered his despatches ten days after his start. i regret exceedingly i am unable to recount the details of that wonderful feat of skill, pluck and endurance, although i was told them by one of king's relatives, nor am i aware that the yarn has ever been written; for i remember, having done a bit of despatch-riding myself, how much i was entranced by the narrative, and have always considered richard king's exploit to be a record worthy to be treasured in the annals of the "legion that never was listed," and i am sure that most of my readers will allow i am right when i again assert "there were giants on the earth in those days." chapter ii a queer card yes, you are quite right in saying that there must have been many queer as well as hard cases in south africa during the seventies and eighties of the last century. some of these i met, and knew well, and if i had been asked, during that period, to assign the biscuit to anyone of them in particular, i should without hesitation have handed it to one whom i shall call mad conway: a sobriquet he had earned by his wild pranks and escapades. as i said, this was not his name, but anyone who resided either in kimberley, free state or transvaal, during those years, will at once recognise who is hereby designated, or at all events will do so when they have read a few lines further. now mad conway had also another nickname, as he was likewise called, especially by the boers, vrei stadt conway; the prefix having been earned by his numerous deeds of reckless gallantry, performed while fighting for the free state against the basutos, during the war of - . yes; mad conway was a caution, and in his own line of business stood out unique. let me describe him, and recount a few incidents in his wild career. to begin with, he was a cadet of a fine old english county family, some of the members of which were celebrated in the world of english sport during the early part of the nineteenth century, and whose name, like that of osbaldistone, is still treasured by all true votaries of diana. well, conway in no way disgraced the family reputation as a horseman, he being one of the very best i have ever seen, and would, provided his lot had been cast in the shires, have gained a place in sporting song and story as well as his ancestors. after having been sent home from eton for some mad escapade, he joined a crack cavalry corps, and had to send in his papers, owing to his having mistaken his colonel's pet charger for a horse belonging to a newly joined cornet. now this charger was held as sacred in the corps as the mares of mahomet were held by the moslems, but conway, after a heavy night in the mess, converted it, with considerable artistic taste and skill, and a couple of pots of paint, into a zebra. on leaving the service--as he was over head and ears in debt to the jew sharks, who in those days battened on the follies of young officers--troth! they do it still, when not more lucratively employed in the art of bogus company promoting, and other congenial pursuits--his people thought a _tour du monde_ would be a salutary exercise for him, and that if he could pick out some salubrious spot about half-way round, and make a permanent camp there, why, so much the better for them. so mad conway landed in south africa some time in the fifties. now what he originally intended to do there i don't know, and i don't think he knew himself; but he certainly wandered all over the country, taking a hand wherever the chance occurred in any kafir fighting that might be going on, and putting in his spare time big-game hunting and exploring. in both these congenial occupations he quickly gained the reputation of being a man utterly devoid of fear, while the wild and fantastic pranks he would play when he happened to be in a town made him an object of wonder and astonishment to both the phlegmatic boers and the lazy portuguese, some of them even causing his own more up-to-date and reckless countrymen to open their eyes. during this period of his existence he accompanied two successive expeditions that were organised for the purpose of searching the lower reaches and delta of the zambesi for a gold-laden dhow that the portuguese had sunk in the early part of the century, so as to prevent her capture by an english cruiser. on both these occasions conway was the only european who survived the attacks of fever and wild beasts, and although, on the second trip, they actually located the dhow, still, before they could clear the drifted sand from off her his last surviving mate died. conway always declared that, notwithstanding the awful hardships he had undergone, he would have stuck to the job, lone handed, and would have scooped the jack pot himself, but the dop (common boer-made peach-brandy) cask gave out, and as that and quinine were his sole diet, he had to chuck the contract before he could touch the geldt. darned bad luck, he called it, especially as the long war waged by the zambesi natives against the portuguese, at that time breaking out, prevented him from having another try for the plunder. reaching delagoa bay, thanks to the kindness of the officers of one of h.m. cruisers, he wandered up to the transvaal, and took a turn on the early goldfields. doing no good, he drifted away to the free state, where, as aforementioned, he earned the name of vrei stadt conway by his feats of reckless daring. let me recount one of them. during one of the numerous unsuccessful attacks made on the impregnable mountain thaba bosigo, the principal stronghold of the great basuto chief moshesh, a gallant dutchman was wounded and captured by the natives. this poor chap, having been duly tortured, was crucified on the very summit of the mountain. moshesh at once declared that the poor remains were to be regarded as his standard, and at the same time sent an insolent message to the boers, stating the fact, and challenging them to come and pull it down. this brutal and contemptuous message deeply enraged the boers, and was all the more galling as the poor fellow's remains hung in full view of the dutch laagers. something must be done at once; so the farmers' war council determined to recover the body, and called for volunteers to do so. these being forthcoming, the attempt was made, but the party, after fighting its way about half the distance up the mountain, having suffered heavy loss, halted. they caved in, declared the undertaking to be impossible, and point-blank refused to make any further effort. this sensible determination, or pusillanimity--call it which you like, but remember a boer is no coward--did not coincide with conway's temperament, he being one of the leaders. he had declared he would bring that crucified corpse down, or would bust in the attempt, and if his men refused to come any further, why, he and his hottentot arter-rider would go on alone; and, faith! the two of them went. troth, i forgot to tell you before that his mother was irish, and when the best of english hunting blood is crossed with the best of irish fighting blood it is deuced hard to stop the owner when on the warpath. well, subjected to a _feu d'enfer_, these two beauties scaled the almost perpendicular cliffs, and reached the cross, which they pulled down, and removed from it the battered remains. they then turned to descend the mountain, only to find their one path down it blocked by a strong party of the enemy, who had allowed them to do so much, to make sure of capturing them alive, and then the following morning there would be three crosses on the mountain instead of one. this strategy on the part of the natives would have caused most men to despair, and even the bravest of the brave, if cornered in a like manner, could have only hoped to enjoy a last good fight, and sell his life as dearly as possible. mad conway, however, thought otherwise. he had declared he would bring the body down the mountain or bust, and as the basutos had blocked the only path down which he could carry it, why naturally he could only keep his word by throwing it over the krantz, and then, by following it himself, he would at all events balk the enemy of their anticipated fun, and save himself from the horrors of the torture stick. he and his faithful tottie boy, therefore, expended their remaining cartridges, and then, bundling the corpse over the edge of the precipice, jumped after it themselves. no one looking at thaba bosego would believe the possibility of a man going over the edge of its perpendicular krantzes ever reaching the bottom with a semblance of humanity left, much less that he could survive the awful fall without every bone in his body being broken and life crushed out of him. yet mad conway and his tottie boy did so, and miraculously reached the foot of the beetling precipice, not only alive, but comparatively unhurt. then picking up the corpse they carried it, under a hail of bullets, back to the schanze, where the rest of the party awaited them. now these men must have been blessed with charmed lives, for although their scanty clothing was nearly shot off their bodies they only received a few slight flesh wounds, until they were just reaching the safety zone, when conway was knocked over with a bullet through his left leg. well, now i have given you a glance at the heroic side of this queer card, let me turn the tables and spin you another yarn, so as to give you some idea of the mad pranks he was capable of playing. here goes. at one time, during the long protracted struggle between the free state farmers and the basutos, conway was commandant of a small dutch dorp situated close to the border which, like all other free state villages, during war-time was laagered. now conway's commando had in their possession an ancient six-pounder ship's cannon so honeycombed that, had they fired it off, the probability is they would have made a considerable hash of the gun's crew that served it. still, it was a real cannon that, when polished up and mounted on a pair of waggon wheels, looked formidable. well, mad conway had this piece of antique ordnance in charge, and being in his usual state of impecuniosity, and the said cannon being the only available asset he could lay his hand on, he one fine day determined to raise the gentle breeze of affluence and also to remove a possible danger to himself and men by disposing of the ancient bombard to the enemy, whose paramount chief, moshesh, was most anxious to obtain artillery at any price, be it ancient or modern. this nefarious idea having been conceived, he at once sent a message over the border to moshesh offering to sell it for head of prime cattle. moshesh was delighted. all the preliminaries were arranged: the time and place for the transfer of old scrap iron for live stock was fixed upon, and the transaction was carried out, a small party of basutos bringing head of splendid oxen across the border, which they handed over, receiving the old carronade in return. mad conway, many years afterwards, declared to me that it was only when the cattle were safely in his hands that the shameful wickedness of his act struck him, and he realised that, no matter how worthless the cannon might be, still he was an officer in the service of the free state, that he had sold their war material to their enemy, and that by doing so he had forfeited his last shred of honour as an english gentleman. in fact his conscience reminded him that he had placed himself on the same low level as mr judas iscariot, so he at once turned-to, like the hebrew traitor, to purge himself of his shame. now, my gentle reader, don't, please, imagine that conway handed back the cattle, or expended a shilling in buying a rope wherewith to hang himself. no, not by a jugful; for he differed in very many respects from the hebrew gent and when his qualms of conscience became too poignant for him to bear he turned out his commando, made a tremendous forced march, overtook the gun escort, which he surprised and routed, on their own side of the border, and brought back the old thunderer in triumph. now some people may say that conway had been guilty of decided sharp practice over this gun deal, but he always asserted that if old moshesh could not keep possession of a purchased article after it had been delivered to him, and he had taken it across the border into his own territory, then he (moshesh) was the only one to blame, and that he had no cause to grumble. anyhow, the recapture of the gun reinstated conway in his own self-respect, and as the sale of the cattle brought him in some £ , i think you will agree with me that he fared much better than the late judas iscariot, esq. through the unjustifiable interference of the british government, the long war between the free state farmers and the basutos was brought to an end in march , so that mad conway must needs look out for something else to do. he had gained great kudos in the field, and the free state government not only passed a vote of thanks to him, but also determined to add a more substantial token of appreciation, by presenting to him a large farm, the title deeds of which were to be delivered into his hands on the occasion of the last parade of the bloemfontein burghers, previous to their disbandment. well, the function was held, president brand made his speech, and at the end of it commander conway's name was called. the hero of the hour rode to the front, to be welcomed by the plaudits of the men, and the handkerchief-waving of the women. a fine figure of a man, and a superb horseman, mad conway looked well as he reined up beside the president, and one would have thought that the bestowal of such an honour would have made even the most reckless dare-devil in the world conduct himself with decorum. moreover, mr brand was perhaps the one man in south africa who was highly respected, both by briton and boer, and had frequently befriended conway in many ways. but alas! the fates willed otherwise, for the reckless child of impulse, prompted by ate or old nick, as usual, fell away and behaved in a most shocking manner. i said prompted by either ate or old nick. well, maybe they were the original instigators, but they used deputies to carry out their designs, for you see conway had that morning imbibed many klein soupjies, and president brand was wearing a tall bell-topper hat. of course you will understand in a moment that a multifarious number of tots might excite a hot-tempered, reckless fellow such as our friend, but it may puzzle you why the hat of a respectable old gentleman should arouse the somnolent devil in mad conway. let me explain. a tall bell-topper hat was, at that time, and for many years afterwards, an aggression that up-countrymen, be they boers or britons, could not stomach, for even in the latter eighties only two men were allowed to wear them in kimberley--one, as old hands will remember, being chief justice buchanan, and the other donald mckai, the de toits pan market master. no one else, no matter what his status might be, possessed the temerity to appear in public wearing one; for, had he done so, it would have suffered the same fate as the presidential golgotha did, on the occasion of which i am writing. yes, bedad! and it did suffer, for mad conway had no sooner been given the title deeds of the farm, and had uttered a few words of thanks for the complimentary speech, and the honorarium he had received, than he waved his right arm wildly over his head and brought his fist down flop on the presidential bell-topper, which after emitting a drum-like thud, collapsed over the ears of its portly wearer. then there was the deuce to pay and no pitch hot. had anybody else been in conway's boots he would have been massacred at once by the infuriated burghers, but seeing it was conway, and being accustomed to his crazy vagaries, they sat on their horses and stared open-mouthed at the extraordinary spectacle, while the president attempted to struggle out of the ruins of his battered _chapeau_. in a moment conway was himself again, was off his horse and assisting the president in getting rid of his encumbrance, at the same time pouring out a volume of excuses, and censuring himself for his confounded clumsiness. these excuses the dear old man accepted, and, in fact, in a few moments was acting as comforter to the brazen scallywag, so that the latter emerged from what might have been a desperate fix with honour and emolument. now let me tell you how i fell across this queer character. i think it must have been about the end of the year that i, who was at that time working as a digger in bullfontein, received an invitation to dinner from an old brother officer residing at the new rush, for the purpose of meeting mad conway, who had drifted down to the diamond fields from the transvaal. of course, like everyone else in south africa at that time, i had heard heaps of yarns about him, but although we had both served in the same wars we had somehow or other never met; so i joyously accepted the invitation. on my arrival at my friend's house i was introduced to this noted madcap, who turned out to be a well-dressed, well-groomed, well-set-up man, who, although past middle age, looked as hard as iron and tough as whipcord. the dinner passed off well, myself and others being kept in a roar of laughter by the extraordinary yarns he related, together with the inimitable pantomime with which he illustrated them. mad conway had sojourned on the diamond-fields in the earlier days, and had literally been hunted from off them, his exodus being so thoroughly in keeping with the man's whole career that i think you will pardon me should i digress and recount it. you see, it was in this way. conway was as usual over head and ears in debt, and one fine morning he heard that writs were out against him for civil imprisonment. this was an indignity that sent him hopping mad, so jumping on to his horse he galloped to the court house. _en route_ he encountered the bum-bailiff, who, mounted on an old pony, was looking for him, and who was fool enough to try and stop him. waving a sheaf of blue papers in his hand, he called on conway to pull up, at the same time turning his nag athwart the road in an attempt to stop him. it was only an attempt, for the next moment the messenger of the court and his gee-gee were heaped up in the sluit, while his scattered documents were being rapidly torn up by a mob of laughing, cheering diggers. after his successful charge, conway cantered on to the court house, through the sacred portals of which he rode his excited and plunging horse. scattering the limbs of satan and the grimy scum usually to be found in such establishments to the four winds of heaven. "----" shouted he to the horrified magistrate. "i heard you had been signing some d----d arrest papers against me, so i just dropped in to tell you, you can shove them where the monkey shoved the nuts. so long." "stop him! arrest him!" cried his outraged worship, as conway swung his horse round, and two policemen made a half-hearted attempt to do so, but were ridden over and dispersed. "whoop, gone away," yelled conway, as he emerged into the free state road and burst through a squad of mounted police. "if you want to catch me try to." they wanted to catch him very badly, and tried very hard to do so, but the veld was close handy and, lord bless you! they might as well have tried to rope a sunbeam as to round up mad conway once he had gained the open plains; so that after he had played with them until, i presume, he got thirsty, he just turned his horse's head for the free state and cantered across the frontier, leaving his baffled pursuers to ride their knocked-up horses back to the disgruntled beak. this escapade took place just before he joined the irregular forces who were carrying on a desultory sort of warfare with sekukuni. it was while serving with this disorganised crowd that conway mated with an ex-naval lieutenant as like himself in character as two peas are in appearance. faith, they made a bonny half-section, for what one did not know in the way of devilment, the other could teach him. well, it was just before the time when the aforesaid irregular forces were to be reorganised. sir garnet wolseley was on his way up country, so were strong reinforcements, and the atmosphere was thick with shaves as to what was going to happen. now, it was just at this moment this brace of beauties found themselves to be in a dilemma: they were both stonybroke. true, they were accustomed to be so, and as they had both been appointed to irregular corps about to be embodied, possessed smart uniforms and first-rate horses, they thought it would be a hard matter if they could not manage to raise a fortnight's board and lodging of the best, together with the necessary liquid, in liberal quantities, _bien entendu_, from somewhere or other. now half-a-day's ride from where they were located was an up-country dorp, in which was a canteen of such pretensions that the owner, a leery old scotsman, called it a hotel. he was, like many of his countrymen, exceedingly avaricious, and prided himself on his cuteness, making a brag that no one could impose upon him. for many years he had enjoyed the monopoly of such trade as passed through the little township, but latterly another individual had opened an opposition shop, which, as it was slightly more up-to-date, filled the old sinner with apprehension, and rage, especially as hard cash was very scarce in the transvaal at that date. well, it was this close-fisted old boniface that our brace of worthies determined to victimise, although to anyone else an attempt to do so would have looked very hopeless indeed. now mad conway was so well known in the dorp, especially by the said boniface, that it was utterly useless for him to try to obtain credit for a tot of dop, as the publican would sooner see the liquor on his shelves than trust anyone for a shilling. but at the same time he was well aware that conway had held, and was likely again to hold, a fairly high position in military circles. the other partner, however, was a perfect stranger. so this was the way the two scamps worked the oracle. one fine morning conway cantered up to the old scotsman's hotel, into which he strode with a bustling, dutified air. "swan," quoth he, "colonel ---- (mentioning the well-known name of one of sir garnet's principal staff officers) will be here in a few minutes. he is riding in advance of the general, so as to make arrangements for the accommodation of sir garnet and his whole staff, who will be staying in this dorp for some considerable time. the colonel was recommended to go to the new hotel, but i, who am acting as his guide, have persuaded him to try you first of all, to see if you can furnish the necessary requirements. of course you will have to do your very best, furnish the best rooms, supply the very best food and liquor, and all that sort of thing, and the colonel will require a private sitting-room, in which to carry on his correspondence, while he is awaiting the general's arrival." old swan nosed what he thought was going to turn out to be a most profitable bit of business. he had heard of the enormous sums of money squandered by the imperial government during the late zulu war, and his fingers fairly itched at the chance of being thrust into the plunder pot. in a moment he was all smiles and attention, even going so far as to promise to turn out, at a moment's notice, all his usual guests and to reserve the whole of the house for the great man and his staff. throwing open the door of his own cosy sitting-room, he inquired if conway thought that would do until a better one could be provided, and also asked if he should be doing right to invite the colonel to have a drink on his dismounting. "well," said conway, "i should hardly do that, as perhaps colonel ---- may be one of those rabid teetotallers who do not like to drink in public, but you had better place a bottle of whisky, one of brandy, yes, and perhaps one of gin, together with some soda-water, and a box of your very best cigars on that buffet, and if he should help himself you will then know whether he drinks or not. ah, by jove! here he comes." a fine stalwart figure, clothed in undress uniform, rode slowly across the big market square and, reining up at the front door, leisurely dismounted. handing his horse over to the grinning tottie hostler, he coolly scanned the front of the premises and the surroundings. out rushed the obsequious host, more leisurely followed by the debonair but still respectful conway. "ah, conway," drawled the new-comer, "so we have arrived at last, and this is the hotel you recommended, is it? well, perhaps it will do, though i must confess i like the appearance of the other one better. still, i have no doubt our worthy host here will do his best to make us all comfortable, especially as our stay here may be rather a long one. let us step inside and see what accommodation he has to offer, as you know how particular sir garnet is." enter the bandits, who are shown over the house by the palpitating innkeeper, whose ears at the illusion about the more attractive appearance of the rival house are aching as if struck by an acute pang of tic doloreux and he forthwith promises at once to carry out the most frivolous suggestions, and there were many of them, of the somewhat haughty and exacting s.o. "and now you have shown me the house," quoth the latter, "perhaps you will be good enough to show me my private sitting-room, in which i think, conway, as i am somewhat fatigued by my long ride, we might indulge in a biscuit, and on this occasion, although i hardly ever take anything stronger than tea, i think i will venture, mr swan, on a glass of your best sherry or pontac; and by the way, mr swan, at two o'clock you will be good enough to let us have the best and most substantial lunch you can furnish at such a short notice. ah, this will do very nicely"--as the deluded innkeeper threw open the door of his own snuggery and ushered his stonybroke guests inside. the room looked like a cosy miniature bar, for the the small buffet was loaded with bottles, plates of delicately cut sandwiches, biscuits, and a big box of extra-special prime cigars, while the canvas water-cooler was full of bottled ale and soda water. well, our two adventurers were in clover, and so well did they employ their opportunity that old swan, who had been bragging to all his usual bar frequenters about having secured the general's custom, and chuckling to himself over the huge bill that, in the future, he would present, which would be duly paid in bright english gold instead of in worthless transvaalian greenbacks, was fairly wild with greed and pride. there was, however, one small cloud on the horizon: the colonel had stated that he rarely touched anything stronger than tea, and the tea-drinker is not nearly so profitable a customer to an up-country innkeeper as one who imbibes expensive drinks at short intervals during the day. this gloomy conjecture he confided to his circle of cronies, who condoned with him, but the cloud, however, was to be quickly blown away, for after he had summoned his guests to their lunch he rushed back into the bar and exclaimed: "tea-drinker, does he call himself? tea-drinker, ma certes! why, they have finished the sherry; they've finished the pontac; they've finished the brandy and more than half finished the whisky, and the colonel has ordered two big bottles of champagne for their tiffin. yes, and i'm blest if they've turned a single hair. tea-drinker indeed! my word, if the general and the remainder of the staff drink tea like the colonel, and are half as drouthy, they will drink the dorp dry in less than a week." and the old fellow rubbed his hands as he booked the amount for the liquor consumed and chortled over the anticipated profits. well, to cut a long story short, our two penniless heroes lived for over a week on the very fat of the land, their gargantuan repasts and the amount of liquor they consumed causing wonder and astonishment in the quiet dorp. but the end of their bean-feast was at hand. sir garnet, they knew, was in the vicinity. prudence warned them to absquatulate, and they determined to cut their lucky, before the inevitable _dénouement_. one evening, therefore, they informed old swan that the expected great man would arrive the next day, that they were riding out in the morning to meet him, and they conjured him to have things ready for his reception. next morning, with their wallets filled with the best cigars, and their flasks full of the best cognac, they rode gaily away on their quest, and, bedad! it was high time for them to do so, as they had not proceeded two miles out of the dorp before they met the real simon pure, with all his staff, escort and mule waggons _en route_ to the village they had just quitted. well, they were all right: the paymaster had arrived, all arrears would be paid up, the war would start again, they had had a high old time of it, and they lapsed into roars of laughter when they thought of old swan and the fury he would be in when he found out he had been hoaxed. yes, old swan's consternation and rage were beyond description when the general's cavalcade, instead of pulling up at his highly decorated house, proceeded to that of his hated rival, from whence, after a short interview between sir garnet and the landrost, it continued its way to parts unknown. truly the old fellow's provocation was great. not only had he been put to much expense by the alterations to his house, but the bill run up by the two marauders was a very big one, and then the chaff that he would have to submit to, because he, who fancied himself to be more than cute, had allowed himself to be taken in and done down by a well-known bad hat like mad conway. no; it was not to be tolerated, so he called for his horse and his two-shot scatter gun, for the purpose of going in pursuit, but on second thoughts that was far too risky a job, so he got drunk, and goaded at last to desperation by his wife's clacking tongue tried to beat her, but she, being a strong-armed suffragette, took the contract out of his hands and gave him the devil's own thumping. so the poor old fellow subsided and submitted to having his leg pulled with the best grace he could muster. there was, however, a little balm in store for him, as after the two freebooters had had some financial dealings with the paymaster they sent him a good round sum of money; for they were both men who did not object to paying their debts when they had the coin, and remembered to do so. this remittance, although it brought relief to his avarice, still did nothing to assuage his injured self-respect. he had been taken in and hoaxed. the yarn spread all over the country, and he was unmercifully chaffed to the day of his death about the way he had entertained mad conway and the counterfeit colonel. it was, however, to be the last escapade of the latter, as the poor fellow was shortly afterwards killed while gallantly leading a desperate rush at sekukuni's mountains. i, however, had started telling you about my personal experiences with mad conway. well, after i met him at dinner, i saw a good deal of him, and one day he asked me to come for a drive with two of his friends, who owned a very smart turn-out, to a well-known drift across the vaal river, where there was an hotel. we were to start on a saturday afternoon, stay there the night, and return the next day. he promised me a lively time, as two of the team of four horses were unbroken, and the other two, although splendid animals, possessed all the vices that gee-gees can be either born with or acquire. the distance was about twenty-five miles, the road was good, across a dead-level flat, which, like most of those in grigualand west, was thickly sprinkled with ant-heaps, from about a foot to two and a half feet high. well, perhaps the characters of the horses and that of the two other men who were to accompany us, both roaring blades, to say nothing about the well-known recklessness of our jehu, might have made a nervous old gentleman give pause and refuse the invite; but then you see at that time i was not a nervous old party, and although i have no wish to claim an inordinate amount of pluck or recklessness still as i was blue mouldy for the want of a bit of divarsion, and knew conway to be one of the best whips in africa, i gladly accepted. the start was a trifle exciting, our two companions turning up just about half-seas over, while the horses promised to act up to their evil reputations. however, the trap was a brand-new cape cart, and the harness of the very best, so that after some little circus play conway managed to get the nags to move off, and we started. the drive through the diggings was accomplished, thanks to conway's masterly management, in safety, for although we scattered like chaff many groups of niggers, we only upset two parsee pedlars and one chinaman, the balance of the damage done being the demolishment of a coolie's habitation, which was constructed out of material that at one time had been paraffin and sardine tins. this accident caused the pious hindoo who owned the shattered tin-heap to swear horribly and spit just like an angry cat; but i don't think we killed anybody. when we reached the veld and were on the broad, open waggon road, the horses, thanks to the splendid handling of our charioteer, settled down to a swinging pace. there was but little chance of our meeting anyone, the scores of high-heaped produce and wood waggons trekking into kimberley being, at that time of day, all drawn off the road and outspanned, as were also the empty waggons homeward bound, and i firmly believe we should have reached our destination in safety had it not been for the conduct of the other two passengers. the drive was most exhilarating as we rushed through the glorious air, and there was plenty of excitement in it too for a man who was not a glutton; for although the road was a first-class one, and quite flat, yet frequently, when we passed a group of outspanned waggons, the dutchmen's dogs would rush out and bark at us, a proceeding that drove our unbroken and vicious horses nearly mad. yet i thoroughly enjoyed the drive, and no doubt should have done so to the end, as the change from the slogging hard work of the mine, with its dust and dirt, was delightful, while the slashing pace we were going and the wild, fresh, veld wind roused my animal spirits till i felt as exhilarated as a penniless small boy does when he is presented with an unexpected half-crown. but, alas! we had other spirits on board, and our two companions, who occupied the back seat in the cart, partook of them freely, nor did they partake of them in the orthodox manner, as the motion of the swinging cart made the use of a glass and a mixing of _aqua fortis_ with _aqua fontis_ a somewhat difficult matter; so they dispensed with the usual accessories and swigged the whisky neat out of the bottle. now this was a very dangerous proceeding, especially as they had imbibed a fair skinful previous to starting, and what with the natural high spirits engendered by the drive, and the other spirits they loaded up in the aforementioned manner, they became very tight indeed, and decidedly uproarious. first of all they began to sing a song. that was a failure. then they began to chaff old conway, which was dangerous; and then they began to rattle and stamp their feet on the floor of the cart, so as to make the horses more restive, which was both unnecessary and foolish. conway, the muscles of whose arms were swollen to nigh breaking-point, took no notice of their crazy antics, except to order them to stop monkeying, as it was all he could do to hold and guide the half-maddened animals, but they paid no heed to his admonitions. then he cursed them with unction, but that succeeded no better, till at last, thoroughly angry, he shouted out: "oh, you want a smash, do you? well! by gad, you shall have one." and without another word he bundled up the reins, which he threw on to the leaders' backs, at the same time letting go a letter "s" cut with his whip which impartially stung up every horse in the team, and then sitting back he let go one of his well-known wild bursts of laughter. at the moment this happened we were about five miles from the drift. the road was perfect, but some two miles or more farther on there was a sharp bend in it, and the problem to me was, would the maddened horses keep to the road or take to the veld when they came to it. i had not to wait long for the solution. the horses, the moment they felt the whip, and found their heads loose, at once broke into a tearing gallop. reaching the bend in next door to no time, they took to the veld and tore wildly across it, making straight for the long line of willows that marked the river's bank. here we were bound to come a most unholy smash, provided we ever reached it, but i knew there were far too many ant-heaps on the way, and to run against any one of these, which we were sure to do, would be quite enough to upset our apple-cart. from the moment conway threw away the ribbons i knew i must come an awful mucker, and had philosophically prepared myself for the inevitable smash. he simply leant back in his seat, giving vent to his peculiar bursts of laughter, while the other two, sobered up by the danger, howled curses, entreaties and pious ejaculations in a duet that would have been highly diverting under other circumstances. now events that are inevitable usually happen--at least, that is my experience--and we had not travelled far across the veld when the off-side wheel of the cart struck an ant-heap, some two feet high, bang in the middle, when i immediately and involuntarily vacated my seat. yes; i left it in the same manner as a war rocket should leave its trough, and i described the same sort of a flight as one of those infernal machines very often used to do, for when i had described a parabola through the air, and had reached the full height of the trajectory, i turned a complete somersault. then my specific gravity bringing me back to mother earth, i landed on my feet, ran a few yards so as to ease off the momentum of my flight, and came to a halt, devil a cent the worse. this was luck, and i turned round to see what had become of my companions, one or more of whom i feared must be badly hurt. conway was all right, that was evident, as he was sitting on an ant-heap taking a pull at a bottle of whisky that had somehow escaped the debacle. looking round, i saw the horses still galloping, dragging the remains of the cart, smashed to flinders, behind them. they disappeared among the willows, and i could conjecture the awful mess there must be at the foot of the river's bank. i longed to go to their assistance, for i dearly love a horse, but i first turned to our two mates, for although they were, in my opinion, far the worse brutes, still they were human brutes, and fashion makes us serve them first. going to them as they lay amidst a debris of lamps, cushions, karosses, etc., i saw one of them was not only knocked silly but had broken his left arm and, by the way he breathed and looked, i diagnosed concussion of the brain. the other had broken his left leg, had acquired a beautiful gravel rash all over his face and was swearing at old conway with much volubility. i was rendering the poor devils first aid, and begging conway to walk on to the hotel to get more help, when we were hailed from the road by a well-known kimberley sawbones, who, having providentially viewed the smash-up from a cross-road, had borne down to our assistance. a mob of dutchmen and waggon boys were also on their way from the hotel, so i was able to go and look after the horses, borrowing a boer's rifle _en route_. on reaching the poor beasts i found them lying in a tangled heap at the bottom of a steep bank. the cart was smashed to matchwood, and i had to shoot two of the nags, while the others we extricated with great trouble, both of them being badly hurt. this was the finale of my first joy ride with mad conway, and though i enjoyed many subsequent ones, none of them were so exciting as the first. i could yarn to you all night about this extraordinary critter, and on some future date may give you further reminiscences about him; but i think you will allow, from what i have told you, that he was a very queer card indeed. chapter iii a conversion that failed it has always been a source of wonder to me why so many people change their religion, for, although i have never had the time, opportunity, or perhaps the inclination, to study theology in any part of its ramifications, and have never even read the thirty-nine articles which caused the fancy religionists not only to desert their church, but has now enabled them, through their co-operation with rebels, atheists, socialists and a gang of men who, so long as they can hang on to power, are ready to play any dishonourable game, to gratify their rancorous spite in looting the said church, my astonishment still remains. yet very many people of all classes are frequently chucking up the faith of their fathers and joining another. no doubt some of these are actuated by sincere religious convictions, but i think the majority of them are prompted by the desire in some way to better themselves in this life. for instance, to remove an obstacle that prevents them from making an advantageous marriage, to succeed to property, to advance themselves in society or to make money. still, there are plenty of people who swap their fire insurance policy for other motives, not even so respectable as the few i have enumerated, and one sinner told me that, having been a very bad hat during early manhood, he had joined the r.c. church as he had been assured that by doing so he had cleaned his slate of the accumulation of his past sins and had thereby choused old nick. this may or may not have been the case, but anyhow he was very ready to contract fresh obligations with the old gentleman, as before we parted he managed to swindle me out of a fiver; so that after mature consideration i came to the conclusion that he was not a brand that was likely to be snatched from the burning, thanks to his change of religion, but was still a very bad hat indeed. now anyone can understand, although he may not admire, a man who, prompted by greed, love or interest, changes his mode of worship. but the man who i am going to yarn to you about was not an individual of this class, and, moreover, although he was most charitably disposed, and always ready to plank down a cheque for any good purpose, yet as a rule he did not pan out on religious matters at all, and knew as much about dogma as a chimpanzee does about snowballing. but let me start the yarn from the beginning. during the latter eighties, when i was adjutant of the d.f.h., and was located at de toits pan, there lived on the same diamond diggings a man who carried on the trade of baker, and whom i shall designate by his boer name of davy. now davy had begun life as a ship's baker, and having followed the sea for many years had drifted up to the diamond fields in the early times, had started in at his trade and had prospered exceedingly, so that when i knew him he was a rich man, and justly very popular with the diggers. in person he was of medium height, thick-set, with great rounded shoulders, on which was stuck, for he had not much neck to boast of, a huge round head that, owing perhaps to the effects of early piety, was as devoid of hair as a little englander is of patriotism. as regards manners, he was rather brusque, and until he came to know you was a bit repellent, and was totally uneducated. but he was a white man right through, and many a score of women and children would have had to go hungry to roost, during hard times, had good old davy cut off supplying bread, although the betting might be decidedly against his ever pouching a single ticky (threepenny piece) of their money. now, this old worthy, who as a rule never attended any gospel mill, and was as devoid of theologic controversy as one of his loaves of bread, nevertheless, whenever he indulged in an occasional burst always developed the idiosyncrasy that he must change his religion, and would promptly set to work to do so. what faith he had been brought up in originally (if any) i know not, and i doubt if he knew himself, but he tried all there were on the diamond fields (and owing to the polyglot crowd located on the diggings there were many), with the exception of the hebrew, from which ancient cult davy shied, as he always affirmed there was an obstacle in the way, which required to be removed before he could become a proselyte in the synagogue. well, one fine day shortly after davy had exhausted the last available religion, de toits pan was invaded by a commercial traveller in a brand-new fancy faith, the name of which i forget, but it was one freshly imported from america, and was guaranteed to be something quite new, slick and up-to-date. in fact, its votaries might reckon on a first-class ticket up to heaven, without any detention at the custom-house, while, provided they subscribed liberally, they might even expect to be transmitted there in a private fiery balloon. now i never knew the ritual of the band of brothers, as they called themselves, but i knew it was necessary for a recruit, upon his initiation, to be soused over head and ears in water, which was meant to typify that all past sins would be washed away, although i guess it would have taken more than one ducking in cold water to have made an impression on the case-hardened iniquities of some of the converts who joined the movement. yes, by gad! it would have required scalding water, soft soap, soda, and a wire scrubbing-brush to have shifted their moral delinquencies. still, if the tubbing did not purify their immortal souls, it had a salutary effect on their hides, so we can pass that part of the performance as o.k. now, this missionary, spiritual bagman, or call him what you like, was at the first go-off of his raid very successful, doing a great business and roping in very many proselytes, so many, in fact it made the sky-pilots in the older established firms buck up, and look askance. he laboured, however, under one very great disadvantage--viz. there was no building in de toits pan procurable, large enough to contain the necessary water tank, so that until one could be built the numerous recruits had to be taken on the sunday to the modder river, and be ducked therein. well, just as the new movement was in the hey-day of its popularity, good old davy went on one of his rare jamborees, and, _faute de mieux_, at once fell into line, signed on as a brother, and on the following day (sunday) went to the modder river with a number of other neophytes, male and female, to undergo their preliminary water cure. now it chanced that, on the same sunday evening, i happened to be chatting in the de toits pan club, when all of a sudden in dashed davy in a great state of perturbation. rushing up to the bar he demanded a double-headed whisky straight, which he swallowed like an oyster, then promptly held out his glass for another supply. "hullo, davy," quoth one of those present, "you seem to be gulping down the cratur with unction. i thought you would have been nursing your new religious doctrines at this time of night." davy answered him not, but with a growl ordered the barman to refill his glass. "why, davy, what's the matter?" queried another. "what have they been doing to you to capsize you in this fashion, and why don't you take water with your pongello?" "water, indeed," snarled davy. "i sha'n't want no water for another month." and he made a motion to the barman to pass the bottle. "here, ease up, davy," said i. "you've had enough. leave the whisky alone, and come over here. sit down and tell us how you got on this afternoon at the washing fête." "whoi," grumbled the old fellow, whom, it seemed, the third nobbler had somewhat pacified, as he took the offered chair and proceeded to light his pipe, "i didn't get on at all, and this new-fangled religion ain't worth a cuss. 'tain't one as any man with any common-sense 'ud cotton to, and as for the sky-pilot, he's jist as hignorant as a howl." "well, well, tell us all about it. did you imbibe the faith?" "faith, be d----d!" he growled. "i didn't imbibe nothing except a gallon or two of modder river water." and he expectorated with disgust. however, after he had been smoothed down a bit, and had had another tot, he bucked up and related his tribulations as follows:-- "you see, boys," said he, "i went down to the modder river this afternoon, with a large party of other converts. the shepherd, as 'e calls his blooming self, 'e comes along too, and brings two or three of the sharps as 'elps 'im. well, when we got there we finds a couple of tents pitched: one for the ladies, and one for us men, to take off our duds in. well, after a bit, one of the sharps, he comes to me, and sez he: 'brother, we's going to commence along with you.' so 'e shows me into the tent, and sez he: 'brother, remove your gaudy 'abiliments and put on this 'ere garb of simplicity.' and with that 'e 'ands me a sort of a nightgown which came to about me knees. as soon as i was togged out, feelin' a bit ashamed of meself rigged out like that, he leads me down to the river bank and there was the shepherd, as 'e calls hisself, long, thin, herring-gutted devil, standing up to his middle in the water. 'enter, brother,' he sings out to me, 'and 'ave your manifold sins swabbed away.' i wades in and whin i reaches 'im the water took me up to the chin. he begins his palaver, and before i knowed where i was 'e puts his two hands on me shoulders and ducks me bloomin 'ead under. he fair took me by surprise 'e did, or i'd 'ave took an extra breath of air. as it was, i lost me footin', and 'ad to struggle to come up. me old skull-cap comes off and i got me 'ead above water, but no sooner did 'e see me old bald pate appear than he shoved it down agin, and kep' on a-doing so until i was near drownded. should 'ave bin, i believe, 'ad i not managed to giv' 'im a punch in the bread-basket which shut 'im hup like a pair of scissors, and then i scrambles out and runs to the tent nigh water-logged. presently along 'e comes, and sez 'e to me, sez 'e: 'brother, wherefore did you assault me while in the water?' and i sez to 'im: 'you ain't no brother of mine. what for did yer try to drown me?' 'brother,' sez 'e, 'i knew not you was so bald, and when yer 'ead appeared above the surface of the river i laboured under the delusion it was another portion of yer hanatomy, and so as to prevent what might 'ave become an indecent hexhibition i pressed it hunder agin and continued to do so.' 'well,' sez i, 'yer religion may be a darned foine one, and yer may be a darned foine shepherd, but whin yer don't know the difference between a conwert's bows and 'is starnpost 'tain't no religion for me, and i 'ud scorn to belong to it or own yer as a brother or shepherd, so ye and yer 'ole gang can go to h----.' and with that i left 'im and came 'ome as fast as i could git." now although i think that on this one occasion old davy's plea, like himself, was a good un, and that he, under the aforementioned circumstances, was fully justified in doubting the _bona fides_ of this fancy religion through the lack of acumen and also the gross ignorance on the part of the shepherd, still, as one swallow does not make a summer, this one legitimate case of perversion does not, in my eyes, justify the large number of people who chop or change their faith and are always thronging to hear some half-crazy tub-thumper, be he a long-haired, red-nosed revivalist, unctuous mormon or any other hypocritical expounder of a new cult. chapter iv jack ashore in yes, i've had the honour and pleasure of serving in the same outfit as h.m. bluejackets, and i will maintain that the british sailor is second to none either as a fighting man or love-maker, the only man, in my unbiassed opinion, to equal him in the above pursuits being the irish soldier. now jack and pat both keenly appreciate a bit of fun and devilment, but i think, in pursuit of divarsion, jack must be assigned the cake, as during his hours of relaxation, while at liberty, on shore, he frequently displays a bit of originality in his pranks that, in fairness i must confess, land him ahead of my dear, reckless, light-hearted countrymen. during the new zealand wars the maoris called the naval brigade te ngati jacks, and they insisted that they belonged to a different people from the remainder of h.m. forces; for you never could convince the old-time maori warrior that the loose-clad, rollicking, gallant sailor was of the same blood as the tight-buttoned-up, stiff and more stolid, though equally brave, soldier. this erroneous idea was, i think, also in a great measure due to the fantastic capers jack cut while enjoying his well-earned liberty on shore, during which treasured moments he strove to cram into twenty-four hours all the fun, and also as many of the minor vices, as he could manage to indulge in, and i am only doing him justice when i state he usually succeeded in participating in as much devilment during those few hours as would satisfy an ordinary healthy tommy for a year. times, customs and manners have greatly altered since , and although there can be no doubt that, changed as in many respects our fleet men are from the sailors of the past generation, still the same courage and devotion exists in our present-day, highly trained, splendid naval seamen as ever instigated the grand old hearts of oak, who boxed yards about, pulled on bits of string called halyards, braces, etc.; and, totally ignorant of electricity, cursed steam. moreover, there has been a great change for the better in the conduct and sobriety of our ever-popular and much-loved bluejackets when ashore on short leave. settlers, old identities, in colonial seaport towns, will, i am sure, endorse what i have written above, for although during the forty years i lived in the colonies i never heard of one of h.m. bluejackets committing a crime, still some of their sprees were rather alarming to nervous people, while they shocked the puritanical, hypocritical humbugs, of whom there is always a superfluity wherever the union jack flies. for these cattle, being able to indulge in their pet vices _sub rosa_, or else being too narrowminded to make allowance for the festive pranks of high-spirited men, let loose for a few short hours after being cooped up on board ship for months at a stretch, where they have been subjected to the most severe discipline in the world, hold up hands in horror at poor jack's frolics, and call the brave fellow, whose mess tins they are not worthy to swab out, a drunken, profligate sailor-man, unfit to be at large in this world, and sure to be damned in the next. yet many of jack's sprees were most diverting to the looker-on, as he would frequently introduce into his frolics some originality that, simple in itself, and most probably quite unpremeditated, still compelled anyone with the smallest spark of humour in his composition to thoroughly appreciate. i am now going to spin you a yarn about one bluejacket's spree that, if it does not amuse you, at all events afforded myself and some of my comrades, just down from the frontier, a hearty laugh. the scene was wellington, new zealand, the date somewhere about the end of , when, the long war having burnt itself out, and the sharp fighting having smouldered itself away to the ordinary frontier defence work, myself and a few of my comrades had, for the first time for nearly six years, the chance of returning for a period to civilisation and enjoying such comforts and luxuries as were at that time to be obtained in the capital of new zealand. this we were doing with a relish only to be enjoyed by men who have for years been living, or rather enduring, a hard bush life, utterly debarred from the ordinary pleasures of society, and the refinement of ladies' companionship. we were doing ourselves well, and going very strong, when the fun was enhanced by the arrival of a squadron of h.m. ships, with whose officers we fraternised, notwithstanding the fact that they ran us very close, if they did not quite cut us out, in the favour of the fair new zealand ladies, for both officers and men of h.m. royal navy are as hard to contend against in the rosy lists of love as they are to beat in the ruddy game of war. no matter if there may have been a trifle of jealousy between us in those days it did not matter a row of pins, and we all enjoyed rattling good times. but hold hard, i am off the trail of my yarn, and so must try back. well, the squadron anchored, squared yards, and, after the ships had been put into apple-pie order, in due course of time, leave was given to the crews, and the starboard watches came ashore to enjoy themselves for twenty-four hours. this they did; and my word they made the town of wellington lively, opening the eyes and elevating the hands of the unco guid in a way that, to such lost sinners as ourselves, was most exhilarating. in those days, i know not if such be the case now, every sailor had the fixed conviction that he was a perfect master of equitation, and no sooner did he get ashore than he yearned to ride a horse, or, failing to obtain one, a mule, a donkey, a cow or even a goat came not amiss. some four-footed beast must be obtained by hook or by crook, or, if saddle animals were quite unobtainable, then he must drive or be driven. well, the starbowlins came ashore and painted the town a vivid red, and the streets soon became full of bluejackets, mounted on every description of animal, some of the poor beasts having to carry double, while now and again you would see some cart-horse, very long in the back, ridden by three laughing, shouting sailors, the whole of the cavalcades galloping and sidling up and down the main roads cheered to the echo by their admiring messmates, while the riders, with their bell-bottomed slacks rucked up above the knees, their elbows square with their ears, and a rein, or as jack termed it a yoke-line, in either hand, held on like grim death to a dead nigger. yet numerous were the falls and collisions that took place, and it appeared to be fully understood that, should a rider be pipped, his loose horse and empty saddle should be the lawful prize of the lucky shipmate who first captured them, and sometimes you could see half-a-dozen or more jacks trying to board the said prize from both sides and ends of the unfortunate quadruped at one and the same time. many of the horses could and did buck a bit, but this did not seem to daunt jack one iota; in fact, buck-jumping appeared to rather enhance the value of the mount, and i saw some wonderful and determined attempts to stick on viciously bucking animals, the rider hanging on manfully by gullet plate and cantle, yea, you might say with teeth and toe-nails, yelling, "whoa, whoa, you----!" at the top of his gamut, while his admiring comrades howled their applause, every man-jack of them anxious to try his luck the moment the temporary horseman should be grassed. of course it must be remembered that all of these men had been accustomed to jockey the yard-arm of a plunging ship, and as jack is by nature and training utterly fearless, i should have bet my bottom dollar that any one of them would have unhesitatingly tried to have ridden old nick himself, had he chanced to have come along on four legs. here i'm off the right spoor of my yarn again, so must circle and pick it up. it was on the afternoon of the said day, a number of us were gathered together in the billiard-room of the club, when a tremendous cheer from the crowded street caused us to make for the verandah, to see what had caused such an uproar. and this is what we spotted. but mark time, as i must digress again for a moment. years before cobb & co. introduced into new zealand their american coaches some speculative settler had imported one of the original london omnibuses, a vehicle of great length, on which the top passengers sat back to back, with their knees up to their chins on what was known as knife-boards, and gained these perches by crawling up perpendicular iron ladders fastened to either side of the door. a more unsuitable trap could not have been invented for new zealand roads, so that shortly after its arrival it was stowed away and forgotten by the general public. its owner, however, was a cute fellow, for hearing of the probable invasion of sailors, he had the old ramshackle caravan made roadworthy, horsed it, and, on the landing of jack, promptly chartered it to a large party of them, so that it was the sudden appearance of this prehistoric tramcar, rumbling along the street, that had evoked the burst of applause which had attracted our attention. truly jack had rigged and fitted out the old shandrydan handsomely, as flags, streamers and wreaths decorated it wherever it was possible to make them fast. nor was she indifferently manned, as even musicians had been provided, for, perched along the driver's footboard, two more than half drunk fiddlers and a half-section of equally intoxicated fifers sawed and blew for all they were worth. the coachman sat on the usual raised seat in the centre of the fore cross-bench, and on either side of him lolled two huge quartermasters who, cigar in mouth and arms crossed, tried to appear quite at their ease and preterhumanly sober. the roof of the vehicle was overcrowded with brawny bluejackets all rollicking drunk, who demonstrated their good will to the passers-by and the laughing spectators in the windows by holding out to them bottles of liquor, while at the same time they exchanged badinage of a saline nature with their messmates thronging the side-walks. the inside of the old omnibus was occupied by only two men, who ostentatiously sniffed at and frequently tasted huge bottles of make-believe medicine, while at intervals they exhibited to the onlookers grotesque imitations of surgical instruments, and, in case it required any further explanation as to what the interior of the vehicle was intended to represent, over the windows and doors were chalked such notices as--sick-bay, dead-house, boozers-locker, etc. all this was funny enough, but although the appearance of the old rattle-trap somewhat surprised us, still there was nothing, after all, extraordinary in its existence, nor in its festive crew, and we should merely have laughed and forgotten the circumstance had we not spotted, the moment it came abreast of us, a wondrous appendage to the vehicle itself, for at the tail-end over the door protruded two stout poles, from which was suspended a large-sized stable wheelbarrow. now what in the name of comus could jack want with a wheelbarrow? its presence roused our curiosity, so that we at once made for the stables, where our horses were carefully locked up, mounted and followed the festive show that had taken the road towards the hut (a small village a short distance along the sea coast from wellington and a very pretty drive). our journey in search of knowledge was not to take us far, for we had only just caught up to the slowly moving caravan when, as it turned a sharp corner, one of the crew, rather more drunk than the others, lost his balance, tumbled off the top and landed on the road, which fortunately for him was at this spot heavy sand, with a concussion that would have killed or seriously maimed any sober landlubber. in a moment a shout of "man overboard" was raised and a stentorian voice howled out: "hard down with your helm, back the main yard, heave to," and in almost the same breath: "pipe away the jolly-boat." out rang a shrill pipe: "jolly-boats away," and in a second down was lowered the wheelbarrow, down slid two men, and before even a woman could get breath for a squeal, or any of the horrified spectators could gather round the unfortunate, who lay on the road striking out with his arms and legs as if swimming, they ran the wheelbarrow up to him, dumped him in, ran him back to the door of the sick-bay, into which he was promptly hauled and administered to by the attendants. "hook on and hoist jolly-boat" was the next order, the crew of which, disdaining the use of ladders, scrambled up the side, and the wheelbarrow was run up and made fast. then came the order, "square away the main yard," the coachman whipped up his horses and away they went before the gaping populace could remember or make use of a single pious ejaculation. now this was very funny, and we all enjoyed a hearty laugh, but jack was far from the end of his farcical frolic, as there was, not far ahead, a house, half inn, half farm, owned by a fine, bluff old sea-dog who had himself served as bos'n in the royal navy, and as they were sure to halt--i beg pardon, heave to--there, thither, expecting more fun, we determined to follow them, and were not sorry we did so, as no sooner were they abreast of the house, which was situated a few feet from the roadway, than h.m.s. _shandrydan_ was again skilfully hove to, the jolly-boat was lowered and manned, and the strident voice sang out: "pipe all hands ashore to lay in wood and water." then as a combined movement took place to vacate the roof: "vast heaving, you thirsty swabs; see the sick-bay cleared first, the fiddlers and idlers, and then the rest of you take your blooming turn." the order was carried out to the letter, each man as he got into the barrow being run up to and shot out on to the verandah, every one of them on recovering his feet touching his cap to the host, who stood beside the open door, and saluting him with the words: "come on board, sir." we had seen enough, so cantered gaily back to the club, myself thinking how extremely useful the jolly-boat would be later on, always provided the crew of it were teetotallers, in assisting their messmates to their quarters when h.m.s. _shandrydan_ had finished her cruise and her gallant crew's back teeth were awash with their potations. yes, the idea of carting along the wheelbarrow was not only humorous but it demonstrated profound forethought on the part of the jacks, and i maintain that no soldier in the world, not even my beloved countrymen, would ever have the nous to devise such a whimsical, and at the same time provident, entertainment, so i therefore declare that her late majesty's bluejackets were the first in devilment as they ran the irish tommy neck and neck in war. "here's good luck to the crowd of them!" chapter v the conversion of mike o'leary "whin a man's that cross and crabbed that his sowle's as black as paint, an' his contrary conversation wud petrify a saint, and he will ate mate on fast days, an scornes the praste as well, ould nick will soon be after him, to escort him straight to (the guard room)." quin. years ago i was soldiering in south africa, and at that time owned a few horses, my own private property and nothing to do with the government. i used to race a bit in a small way, just for the sport, and it became necessary for me to employ a groom who must be my own private servant. now grooms were hard to get, especially at the price i could afford to pay, and i did not want a man of the sundowner stamp. one evening my servant came to me and informed me that a man had come into camp who was looking out for a job and he thought he would do. on my asking him why he thought he would do (for quin, though an irishman, was, wonderful to relate, no horseman and had no knowledge of horses) replied: "the man is an irishman, a small man, a knowledgeable man, and also a townie of my own." so i decided to see him, and mike o'leary was ushered in. directly i saw him i seemed to know him, but for a time could not place him, till at last it flashed through my mind he must be charles lever's corney delaney come to life again, or at all events the creature in front of me must be a descendant of his. not that the dress was similar, for my man wore breeches and boots, both of which wanted renewing, but the head, the face, the cross, crabbed expression and the general appearance were exactly like the immortal corney as depicted by phiz in "jack hinton." he was a tough, wiry little fellow, showing, as we say out in the colonies, the marks of the whalaby. he stood rigidly to attention, after glancing at myself and belongings with a sneering grin that would have excited the envy of satan himself. so i opened fire with the remark: "you are an old soldier." "i am," quoth he; "and served in the th, god bless them! they wor a rigimint you could be proud of, not a tearing lot of divils the likes of what you've got here. bad scran to them! it's neither soldiers or peelers they be." "well, well," i said, "leave the men alone. i want a groom. are you one?" "it's a lot of grooms you do be wanting, judging by the look of your troop horses," he snarled. "leave the troop horses alone. i want a man as my own private servant. do you want work of that sort?" "i may take you on trial," he rejoined, "for did i not serve under your honourable father, sir george brown, in the crimee." now sir george brown was not my father, nor any relation to me, but mike o'leary would have it so, and sir george was trotted out of his grave and thrown in my teeth as long as mike lived. well, he was not a promising lot, but i was so hard up for a man, and the horses wanted so much looking after, that i took him on. as a groom he was perfect; never have i seen a man his equal. the horses took to him, and he was devoted to them. but, by the lord harry! he was a blister to everyone else on the station. how he had ever been enlisted in the th the lord only knows, and how he had ever existed in the regiment is a mystery to me to this day. his tongue was as sharp as a double-edged sword, and as bitter as gall, but the little fiend could fight like a gamecock, and was as hard as iron, so that when his remarks were resented he was always ready to back his words up with his hands, until at last most of the troopers were only too glad to leave mike alone. as regards myself, he showed me neither deference nor respect, would never say sir when addressing me, and would openly and audibly criticise my riding, my personal appearance, my drill, and my dress, and none of these to my credit. poor sir george was also brought to the fore every day, and the difference between us as to morals, manners, sport, or anything else that might be on the tapis, was pointed out and expatiated upon, and never in my favour. the little beast became quite obnoxious to me, but he did so well by the horses that i could not part with him, and came at last to look on him as a trial sent by providence to humiliate me, and as a punishment for my sins; so i was bound to accept him as such, and put up with him. well, things went on like this till one day, when i came in from a long patrol, i found quin on the sick list and that mike o'leary had installed himself in his place as servant. now if i had wanted him to come and look after me, nothing on earth would have made him come, but as he knew he was the last man on the station whose presence i desired in my rooms, of course there he was and there he evidently intended to stick. in vain i told him he would be overworked looking after both myself and the horses. "sure, and don't i know that?" he snarled. "it's little thanks i'll get from the likes of you, who spends your money on debauchery and blaggardism, and pays your servants, who works their fingers to the bone, as little as ye can; but i knows my duty to your honourable father, god rest his sowle, and while that useless baste quin is skulking, i'll be here to see you to bed when you come home drunk every night." what was to be done? i though matters over, and at last determined to attack mike on his only weak spot. mike i knew to be a rigid r.c., but he was also saturated with superstitions. he had all those of the usual irish peasant, and a good many more of his own. he firmly believed in witches, ghosts and fairies, good and bad, and was convinced that the devil himself was frequently knocking around looking for someone to transport to tropical regions. as to his religion, mike was very devout, with one exception--he would eat meat on fridays. "fast, is it?" he would say. "a soldier may ate his rations." "but you are not a soldier now, mike." "well, and whose fault is that now? did not i put my pride in my pocket and offer to join your blackguards, and did not that t.s.m. tell me i was too small? bad luck to the lout! was i not fighting in the crimee with your honourable father before he was breeched? it's little the likes of him is fit to be t.s.m., but what can you expect when the captain ought to be at skule learning manners! it's little of an officer you'll ever make." exit mike, with a well-directed boot after him. it was an uphill job, but i worked and worked away at him. i even persuaded the good father de rohan to go for him and preach abstinence to him, and even threaten him with pains and penalties if he did not put the muzzle on. but no good. then i began to pretend that the rooms were haunted, and that rather fetched him, but yet, though he was uncomfortable, it did not quite hit the right spot. at last fortune played into my hands. a lieutenant who had been away on long leave rejoined and was sent up to my station. he was a very tall, thin man, very dark, with straight features, large eyebrows and moustache, and mike had never seen him before. the first night he joined we were talking over our pipes, after dinner, when he mentioned a very swell fancy-dress ball he had been to. at once i asked him in what character he had gone. of course he replied: "mephistopheles." had he brought his dress out with him? yes, he had it in his kit. would he do me a very great favour? why, certainly. then i told him about my incubus, mike, and i earnestly requested him to put his dress on the next night and play the devil for mike's benefit. of course he was only too delighted to assist, and the plot was duly laid. that night i went to my quarters. there was mike, with his usual pleasant remarks and sneer. i stopped short and said sternly: "you have been smoking." "begorra i've not," said he. "then you have been lighting those beastly sulphur matches." "i've not," said he. i walked over to the dressing-table, looked in the glass, then started back, and let out at him. "have done with your fooling tricks. how dare you grin over my shoulder like that?" "i did not," he replied. "if it was not you it must have been the devil then," i said sternly. "and i don't wonder at it, when such a cross-grained ugly beggar as you sits in my quarters alone at this time of night. take care, mike," i said impressively; "take care. remember what father de rohan told you. if you will eat meat on friday, and will quarrel and insult everyone, the devil will be after you in earnest. "what's that?" i cried, looking hard past him. "get out of this, mike; the company you keep here when i'm out is not safe for a christian man." he turned very white, was evidently very uncomfortable, crossed himself over and over again, and bolted. next morning he brought two sticks, when he came to my room, which he crossed on the fire hearth, and when he turned up at night-time he had evidently been to the canteen, for he was pot-valiant and i could see he had a bottle with him. "i suppose you will be afraid to stay in the rooms alone," i said, as i left for dinner. [illustration: the divil, bedad!] "i will not," said he; but i saw the blue funk rising in him. it was a friday. "did you eat meat to-day?" i asked. "i did that," he replied, "and i will." "well, god help you," i said. "it's great danger you are in this night." it was midnight when the lieutenant, fully got up in a most perfect fancy dress, and looking his part to perfection, appeared in the mess hut. in his hand he carried a few inches of time fuse, and also a huge fork, known in the service as the tormentor. the cook uses it to take the men's meat out of the boilers. we all crept up to my quarters, which consisted of a hut with two rooms in it, in the front one of which was the victim. to light the fuse and pass it under the door was the work of a moment, then to open the latter and step in took no longer. mike, who had been absorbing courage from the bottle, had fallen asleep, but was waked up by a prod from the tormentor. he woke with a growl of rage, that changed into a yell of consternation, when he saw the terrific figure regarding him through the sulphury smoke of the fuse. "mike o'leary," said a deep voice, "i've come for you." poor mike, who had fallen back open-mouthed, with the sweat of fear trickling off him, whimpered: "oh no, good mr devil; wait for the master." "no," thundered the voice; "it's you i want, not your good, kind master, who's been a friend to you, and who you sneer at, insult and deride, and who, protestant as he is, tries to stop your greedy sin of eating meat on fast days. come on!" and he made a pass at mike with the tormentor, which mike dodged by going over backwards, chair and all. "i'll never cheek him again, by this, and by that, i won't!" yelled mike, as he got another prod in a fleshy part, "and i'll never touch meat again, i won't." but at that he fainted. he soon came round, and was on his knees telling his beads when we entered the room, as if we were going to have a parting smoke before turning in. "what the deuce have you been up to, mike?" i said. "who has been here? what is the cause of this awful smell, and what have you been making such a row about?" "o holy mary! sor," whined mike; "he's been here." "who the devil has been here, you drunken blackguard?" i shouted. "oh, dear sor, oh, kind sor, don't spake disrespectfully of the ould gentleman; shure he's been here, and has just left. oh, sor; i'll repent, i will. for god's sake send for the holy father. what will i do? what will i do?" we got him to his quarters at last, and next morning mike was a changed man. although still by nature cross-grained, yet a more respectful servant or a better comrade could not be found on a month's trek, and he stayed with me till he died, two years afterwards, regretted by everyone who knew him. _r.i.p._ chapter vi bushed in very many parts of the world, which on the map are painted red and collectively called the british empire, there are huge tracts of country covered with forests of all sorts, which are known to the inhabitants of the different colonies by various names, and these have exacted a heavy toll of human life from the venturesome traveller, prospector, hunter, or others, who have entered their recesses on their own business or pleasure. if the scrub of australia, the bush of new zealand, the forests of canada, and the wilds of africa could only be examined with a microscope, the remains of thousands of men would be discovered who, having been bushed (_i.e._ lost in the forest), have died of hunger, thirst or exhaustion, and whose remains, unfound, have wasted away until only a few mouldering bones, some tattered rags, and a few fragments of rusty metal remain to tell the tale and act as a warning to others. i have on two occasions been the finder of the remains of men who have been lost. one on the taupo plains, who disappeared and who, although he was missed and looked for, was not found until three years after his disappearance, when i, quite by chance, stumbled on the poor chap's bones, which were identified by a glass eye. the other case was the bones of a white man i found while shooting in south africa. who or what he had been never transpired. that he had been a white man was evident, but when or how he had been lost i never found out. i remember well that after i had searched the vicinity for anything that could have been used as a clue to his identity, i stood over the poor bones and moralised. this poor chap must have belonged to someone in the world who cared for him. yet here he lay nameless, and unknown, his bones to be buried, as soon as my hunting boys with knife and tomahawk could scoop out a hole, by a man who was a perfect stranger to him, or, for all i knew to the contrary, we might have been comrades in two or three wars, or have hobnobbed together scores of times. however, there, under a tree, his bones lie, and i have no doubt that all marks of his grave, even the cross i cut out on the tree, to mark the spot, have long ago disappeared, and yet it is quite possible to this day there are people hoping and wondering if he will turn up. in the colonies men disappear very rapidly, and they are not readily missed. so they do in this great wilderness, london, whose hidden mysteries far and away outnumber all the frontier mysteries of the british empire put together, but yet somehow the picture of a man lost in the bush, dying, alone, of starvation, thirst and exhaustion seems, if not so pathetic, at least more romantic than the scores of hungry, ragged and homeless creatures who wander about the embankment, or the slums of the mighty city. very many times during my life on the frontiers of the various colonies in which i have served i have been called on to assist in the search for a missing man; sometimes we have been successful, and have found our man alive, sometimes we have found him dead, and often we have searched in vain, the poor chap having disappeared, as if taken from earth in a chariot of fire. i could fill a book with yarns of cases of people being lost and found, and of being lost and not found, but the most wonderful case i know of is that of a young colonial, who was lost for forty days, yet was found alive, and who i believe to be still living. in i had taken command of the de beer's company expedition to mashonaland, consisting of sixty white men, forty colonial boys (natives), and eighteen waggons. the above i was to conduct from kimberley to salisbury, a trek of about miles. it was no joke. very many of my men were quite raw hands, and just after we had left kimberley the heaviest rains ever known in south africa came on, so that the rivers became flooded, the swamps impassable, and the roads, such as they were, so rotten that the heavily laden waggons sank to their bed plates every few minutes. however, i at last passed tuli, and proceeded some eighteen miles on the umzinguani river, where i determined to halt for a fortnight, so as to rest and recuperate my worn-out oxen. in tuli the o.c. of the b.s.a. police had told me that some days before i reached that place a man had been lost from some waggons that had been outspanned at the umzinguani river. up to date he had not been heard of, so he requested me to make a careful search and try to discover any trace of the missing man. i promised to do so, and asked for all the particulars. the man was a colonial of dutch descent, who was acting as orderly to some dominican nursing sisters _en route_ to salisbury. they had outspanned across the river, in the early morning. after breakfast the man had taken his rifle, had entered the bush on the down-river side of the road, to try and shoot a buck for fresh meat, but had never returned. the waggons had waited three days for him, and then trekked on. i also ascertained that some twelve miles farther on the road was crossed by a big creek, that ran into the river some miles below the drift. this being the case, i failed to see how a colonial man, _provided he kept his head_, could be lost, as the area in which the occurrence happened was surrounded on all sides by good landmarks. it was in fact an irregular triangle, bounded on one side by the river, on another by the creek, and on the third by the road. provided he struck the road, he had only to turn to his left to reach the outspan. if he struck the river he would only have to follow it up and find his waggons, and if he came across the creek he would only have to follow it to the road or river. this seems easy enough; but, as an old and experienced scout, i knew there were fifty sorts of trouble that might have happened to him, or he might have been guilty of a score of follies, all inexcusable but all committed frequently, even by old hands. he had gone away without his coat, that we knew; he might also have gone without matches--this was quite likely--and probably with only two or three rounds of ammunition. it was a very bad lion country: he might have tackled one and got the worst of the encounter; he might have been hurt by a wounded buck, sprained his ankle, broken his leg or otherwise hurt himself. it is folly, a man going shooting alone in a south african bush. anything may happen in a moment, and then a man by himself is helpless and unable to send for assistance. we reached the umzinguani river at daylight, crossed the drift and outspanned. after breakfast i collected the men, explained my plans to them and drew them a rough map of the area over which our search was to be made. i selected seventy men, black and white, for the job, and my plan was to extend these men some ten or twelve yards apart and, keeping our right on the river's bank, to move down in line till we came to the spot where the creek ran into the river. then, if we found no trace or spoor of him, to swing round and return to the road, taking, of course, a new line parallel to, and touching, the first one; and to enable us to do this correctly i ordered the man on the left flank to blaze the trees on his line, so that we should know we were not going over the same ground twice, nor leave a gap between the lines of search. i had plenty of old hands among my men, both black and white, and on reaching the junction of the river and creek i was certain the work had been done thoroughly, although nothing had been found. at the junction i found a lot of dutchmen, some twenty in number, who were outspanned there. they were trek riders, who, after delivering their loads in salisbury, had hauled off the road and camped for the purpose of resting their oxen and shooting big game to make biltong. they had heard nothing of the lost man, but insisted on helping me to look for him. that afternoon we searched the new line of country back to the road, the right-hand man blazing the trees _en route_, but found nothing except game and lion spoor. the next day we started from where we had left off and took a new line, the left-hand man blazing the trees, while the right-flank man worked down the line of the previous afternoon. i did not rush the men, as i had no hopes of finding the poor fellow alive, but yet i hoped to find his rifle--a lion could not eat that--or some trace of him, so i told the men to search carefully and not hurry. i had two bugles with me, and the men shouting to one another, so as to keep in touch, made plenty of noise, that the poor chap must have heard if alive. the bush was an open one, with little undergrowth, so we had a good chance of finding anything out of the common. we kept up this search ten days, until i was convinced every bit of ground in the triangle had been prospected; but we found absolutely nothing. then we said good-bye to the dutchmen and continued our journey. some weeks afterwards a post cart passed me going to salisbury and the corporal in charge of it told me a wonderful tale. the dutchmen had remained at their camp some time after my departure, and the day before they moved off one of them, while out shooting, had found a white man concealed in an ant-bear hole. he was stark naked, and in a dreadfully emaciated condition, the nails torn off his hands and his teeth actually worn down to his gums. he was quite mad, but the dutchman carried him to his waggon, and trekked into tuli; where he was taken into the hospital, and with careful nursing restored to reason and health. he afterwards came up to salisbury, where i was staff officer. i knew him well, and held frequent conversations with him regarding his woeful experiences. his story is a very short one. he had left the waggons after breakfast for a stroll, with his rifle, three cartridges and no matches. all at once it dawned on him he was lost, so he started running (_a fatal mistake_), and remembers no more. up to the time he was found, quite close to the dutchman's camp, over forty days had elapsed. how he had lived he had no idea. the state of his hands and teeth showed he must have grubbed roots and gnawed them; but he must have obtained water from either the creek or river, and, mad as he was, one of them should have guided him to safety. again, how did he escape my search and that of other parties who had looked for him? what became of his rifle, boots and clothes? and, above all, why did not a lion skoff him? to these and heaps of other queries i can only say that truth is stranger than fiction, that i have told the yarn as it happened, and can't answer conundrums. in the above yarn i have told you that the lost man began to run, and have noted it was a fatal mistake. yes, it is a fatal mistake to begin to run when you discover you are lost, for i can assure you that it is not a difficult matter for even an old and experienced scout to lose himself, if he lets his mind and attention wander. but now i will spin you a yarn about one of my men who was lost on the same trek to mashonaland. this man was a fine, strapping fellow about thirty years of age. he was a well-educated mechanic, a good athlete and football-player, but a new chum in the bush and at frontier work. we were at the time trekking along the limpopo river, a very bad bit of country indeed, and i had given my men warning not to leave the waggons. i had also tried to teach the new chums some simple facts in bushcraft. the country here swarmed with feathered game: partridges, pheasants, and guinea-fowls. it was my custom to walk on before the train of waggons, on the trek, with my gun, and shoot plenty of these birds sunning themselves on the road. one evening when the men were inspanning, a very noisy job when you have eighteen waggons, i took my gun and strolled along as usual. the road was about thirty yards broad, and well-defined, the wide river running some one hundred yards on the right-hand side of it. i had progressed about two hundred yards from the outspan, but was still well within earshot and sight of it, when i saw the man i have mentioned come rushing through the trees and thorn bushes, down the slope on the left-hand side of the road. at first i thought he had gone mad, and so, for a time, he was. he had lost his hat, his khaki clothes were torn to rags, his face worked convulsively, with his eyes bulging out of his head, while the perspiration ran down him in streams. he reached the road within a yard or two of me; but he neither saw me, the road, nor the river in front of him. i jumped forward and seized him, saying: "what's the matter with you? what are you doing here?" he struggled for a moment, as if to try and break away; then some expression came into his face, and he gasped out: "oh, thank god, major, you have found me. i knew you would look for me." [illustration: bush track.] [illustration: punga (tree fern).] "look for you?" i said. "why, what's gone wrong with you?" "oh, sir," he cried--and, strong man as he was, he shook with fear--"i'm lost in the bush." "lost in the bush?" i said. "what do you mean? don't you see you are on the road? don't you see the waggons? don't you hear the row the boys are making inspanning, or see the river in front of you?" "i do now, sir; but i saw nothing, and heard nothing, when you caught hold of me. oh, thank god you found me." as he was quite unnerved, i took him back to my waggon, and gave him a tot, at the same time making inquiries as to the time he had left the camp; and i found out he had not been absent more than an hour. so much for the rapidity with which bush fear unnerves a new chum, no matter how strong he is, unless he has the will-power to fight against it. on questioning this man, subsequently, he told me he had only strolled into the bush for a few minutes, then tried to find the waggons, had failed to do so, started running, and remembered no more. fortunately he had run in a circle that crossed the road; had he circled in the other direction, nothing could have saved him, and another case of the bush having claimed a white man's life would have been registered. now anyone would think that one experience of that sort would have been enough for that man, but it was not, for, some time afterwards, he again went off by himself, and again got lost. at this time we were trekking through very rough country, full of steep, high granite kopjes, and, notwithstanding my strict orders to the contrary, he left the waggons, and went into the bush alone. on his absence that night being reported to me, i took a party of colonial blacks with a couple of mashonas and ascended a big kopje, at the foot of which we were outspanned, and from that height examined the country. it was not long before i spotted a fire, about two miles away, that was evidently a white man's fire; so i at once had an answering fire lit, and carefully took the bearings of the one i saw. at daybreak i sent a party of men, under an experienced old hand, to bring in the straggler. they reached the place and found the remains of the fire, but he had gone. not content with his first folly, the stupid fellow had evidently tried to find his way back to us, and lost himself again. for two days we looked for him, and on the third the late mr alfred beit, who was travelling up to mashonaland, brought him into my camp, having come across him, in a dazed condition, quite by chance, some miles back on the road. you may depend that the reception he got from me was a very warm one, and that i took most effectual precautions to prevent him leaving the waggons again. chapter vii the non-com.'s revenge, or the curate and the snake i was proceeding up-country in south africa with a small party of troopers and led horses. the day before i was to start the bishop came to me and said: "one of my young men has to go up to headquarters. do you mind taking him with you? he is quite new to the country and, as he is not well off, he can't afford the heavy coach fare. you are taking up led horses. he tells me he can ride a little, and you would be doing a very great kindness if you would take him." now the bishop and myself were rather pals in our way; for although, as a rule, i did not trouble the church much, yet i have always had the greatest respect for the cloth, and perhaps, as this youngster might be a varsity or public school man, he would be company for me on my -mile ride. so i said: "all right, bishop; trot him round to the lines to-morrow morning with his traps, an hour before sunrise, and he will find us ready to start. remember, it is a hard ride, roads bad, rivers full, horses only half broken, and warn him to be punctual." next morning the two light mule waggons that were to accompany us were inspanned and ready to load, the horses saddled, early coffee drank, but no curate. now this was bad. nothing ever goes quite right the first trek. mules are new to their places in the span; men, with their last night's heads on them, are sulky; the officer a bit sharp, so as to knock them into shape; the half-broken horses restive; while the non-com. in charge of the waggons is anxious to pack them, and can't do so, to his satisfaction, until he has all the baggage to his hand. consequently the curate, or, as the men profanely termed him, the bally sky-pilot, not having turned up to time, he was being growled at and cursed. at last he came, his kit consisting of paper bags, parcels and band-boxes. how he ever expected them to stand the rough usage of the road the lord only knows. then he paraded in a field kit composed of a long black coat, short black trousers, low shoes and white socks. such a get-up to ride miles in i had never seen, and my men eyed him with wonder and astonishment. he came up to me and introduced himself, though he evidently did not think it worth while to apologise for keeping us waiting, but trusted we were going to have fine weather, that he would have a quiet horse, that the men did not swear, that we should meet no wild animals, above all, snakes. in fact he was so full of trust that i had to cut him short, and when he suggested the advisability of saying a few prayers before we started on this very dangerous journey i told him sharply to get on his horse, as smart as he could, and then he could pray there as long as he liked. this was not perhaps quite polite; but no officer likes to be kept waiting when he is on the point of starting on a journey, and, as i said before, tempers are crisp for the first trek. i had selected for him a quiet old troop horse; and it was well i had done so, as when he started to mount he tumbled over on the other side, and when at last we got him into his saddle he gave endless trouble: first of all his stirrup leathers were too long, then too short, and he was such a noodle, unable to do anything for himself, that a man had to keep on dismounting every few minutes to render him assistance. now there is no class of men in the world more respectful to clergy, of any denomination, than the up-country man, be he miner, farmer or trooper. a parson or priest is always made welcome at any camp he may choose to call at, and the best in that camp is placed at his disposal. the men, no matter how wild and godless, will listen to him with attention, so long as the time is fit and the homily straight; but the minister must have tact. it is by no means wise for a pastor to preach a sermon against bad language when the waggon is stuck in a drift, or when the cook's mate upsets the bucket of tea into the fire; no, it is better for him, under these circumstances, to bide his time, close his ears, retire a short distance and commune with himself. now this johnny had not the tact of an ostrich. he had already made a bad impression on us by being late, his wonderful get-up, and by his utter helplessness. this would have been looked over, and the men, thoroughly good-natured, would have done their best for him, and have taken all the care in the world of him, provided he would have left their souls alone, at least during the trek. leading unbroken horses, for the first day or two, is no joke. they try to break away, and sometimes do so, when they at once head back for their old feed-grounds, have to be rounded-up and recaught; and it does not improve men's tempers when this occurs, and they drop a big d, to have a useless new chum, who, sitting like a monkey on his horse, with his trousers rucked up to his knees, raises his hands and says: "oh, my dear, dear man, where do you expect to go if you use such horrid language? oh, how can you say that? please don't be so profane," etc., etc. likewise at the first drift, a very bad one, with a rotten bottom, a very steep pull-out, mules jibbing and waggons sticking, it is not pleasant to have an ignorant josser interfering and making himself more objectionable every minute, by praying out loud that evil should not happen to him for being in the company of such godless men. this he did, and before we reached the first outspan he had made himself decidedly unpopular; and he did not improve matters there. i have always made it a rule, when i am trekking with a small party, to take my food in company and at the same camp fire with the men, who will never take a liberty with an officer doing this--it draws the feeling of comradeship tighter, and also only one man is required to do the cooking. now the new chum objected to this, and that in an audible voice. he informed me he did not care to sit at the same fire as troopers, most of whom were low fellows. by the same token, most of them were gentlemen by birth, while some of them were varsity and public school men to boot, and all of them thorough good fellows. i lost my temper with the ass, and told him he could light a fire for himself, or, if he preferred it, could sit with the kafirs, but if he required food he had better come and have it. this he did with a very bad grace, and noticing the old waggon non-com. (a strict roman catholic) cross himself before beginning his food, had the worse taste to attack the old fellow's religion and preach at him for his bad language at the drift. the grizzled old warrior said nothing, but i could see a grin come over his face that i knew predicted danger to the new chum; and presently he began to talk about snakes and lions. the curate opened his ears wide, taking in all that was said, and by the time we were ready to inspan for the evening trek he had become very nervous. that afternoon he rode with two or three of the troopers, who filled him up to the chin with wonderful and awful yarns about snake bites and lion stories; so that when we halted for the night he dare not move out of the light thrown by the camp fire. he did not object to sharing the evening meal with the men, but again made himself very offensive to the non-com., and, on the latter serving out the evening ration of rum, made most uncalled-for remarks, and preached us a sermon on temperance, and the evils of strong drink. well, the ration was drunk, the last pipe smoked, the sentry posted and the blankets laid down. again he started to fuss. where was he to sleep? he had never slept out in the open before. he could not sleep without undressing. was there not great danger from wild animals and snakes? and he had no blankets in his kit to begin with. the old non-com. looked after him like a mother, the men gave up blankets for his use, and at last all turned in; but as i fell off to sleep i saw the non-com. go to a thorn-tree and select, with much care, a branch. the new chum had undressed, said most voluminous prayers and, tired out by the journey, fallen asleep. everything was quite quiet, when suddenly we were all roused by the most piercing yells. a frontier man is awake and on the alert in a moment, and i at once demanded what the row was about. the parson, nearly mad with terror, screamed out he had been bitten by a serpent and must die; he also held out to me his naked arm, on which i saw two small punctures with drops of blood oozing out of them. to tie a piece of rhimpie round his arm above the wound, and twist it tight with a cleaning rod, jab a penknife into the punctures, and suck them, at the same time ordering the patient to hold his bally row, and the non-com. to bring a pannikin of rum, did not take long, and i at once administered a tot that would have made an old bos'n cough and splutter. then i had him walked about and in a few minutes gave him another quartermaster's nip, which got well home on him, and he became very drunk indeed. of course as soon as i saw him drunk i knew he was safe, and told him to stop whimpering, get into his blankets and go to sleep. he did certainly stop whimpering, but he refused to go to bed, or go to sleep. no, he declared he would not go home till morning. his holiness sloughed off him like a serpent's skin, and in a few minutes, to the huge delight of my godless troopers, he began to tell very naughty stories and to sing very ribald songs. he likewise, in his nightgown (a garment never before seen in that part of the world), began to show us some can-can steps, and at last behaved in such a manner that i was forced to tell him i would have him pegged out and gagged if he did not hold his row. on this he consigned us all to the place it was his duty to guide us away from, got into bed, burst into tears, and sobbed himself to sleep. i saw by the chuckling of the men, and the unholy grin of the non-com., some joke had been perpetrated; but as i could see i was not to be informed of it i gave the order "lights out," turned over and went to sleep. next morning, an hour before daybreak, the rouse went, blankets were bundled up, horses were quickly rubbed over, saddled, and while they were eating their half-ration of mealies the waggons were packed and early coffee served out. but oh! the wretched new chum! he was stiff from the ride of the previous day, yet, sore as his body was from the unaccustomed saddle, his head was much worse. he groaned when he was roused up and told to turn out. could he not be allowed to sleep longer? what had happened? was there no soda water? oh dear, oh dear. the non-com. proffered a pannikin of hot coffee and recommended a tot in it. the curate took the coffee but refused the tot, although the non-com. swore it was the best medicine in the world for anyone who had been on the bust the night before, and assured the poor wretch that he himself always doctored himself with one, after he had had a wet night. anyhow he must get up, as the waggons had to be packed, and we should move off the moment the horses and mules had finished their feed. he could not or would not, so i was called, and went to him. i saw in a moment the miserable wretch was unable to ride, so ordered the non-com. to make a place for him on one of the waggons, which was done, and, making him dress, we put him on to it. at the midday halt he was better, and at the night outspan he was so well that he began to get aggressive again. the men stood it for a bit, and then one of them repeated one of his own stories, and another started to sing one of his songs. he rushed to me and complained; but i pointed out to him that the song and story were his own, which he had favoured us with the night before, and therefore he could not grumble. this sort of thing went on all night, and when the rum ration was served out, and he indignantly refused to share it, he was politely requested to favour the men with a discourse on the evils of drink, and bad company. of course the men treated him with the greatest respect in my presence, but when they could get him alone he caught it, and even at the camp fire sly shots were fired at him, such as low fellows, get drunk, shocking language, filthy songs, etc., etc., until the poor wretch was nearly driven mad with shame and contrition, and hung on to me so much that he became a perfect nuisance. this went on for a couple of days, when at a wayside house where the mail coach stopped i had become so sick of him, and also, i must confess, sorry for him, that i paid his coach fare and persuaded him to continue his journey by it, an offer he thankfully accepted. and so i got rid of him, with equal pleasure. it was after he had left us i was let into the joke that had so amused the men on the night of the catastrophe. the old non-com., incensed by the new chum's tactless interference with his mules, his language and his religion, and knowing full well the course i should pursue in counteracting a case of snake bite, had taken advantage of the camp being asleep to jam into his victim's arm the thorns i had seen him go to the tree to get, and then on the alarm being given had declared he had seen a snake, so in this crafty way had gained his revenge. the new chum proved no good up-country, and in a few months was sent back to england, where it is to be hoped he has found a better sphere for his talents than in trying to convert members of the lost legion. and now this skein is ended it is the profound hope of an old lost legionary that the perusal of them has not bored you, and he only wishes he had been in better form to do justice to the kind support he has received from the press and public. _salue!_ the riverside press limited, edinburgh * * * * * extracts from reviews of a lost legionary in south africa _demy vo. s. d. net. fully illustrated_ _the nation_, _ th august _.--"the book is full of adventure and anecdote, and colonel brown's simple unaffected style is well suited to the story he tells." _illustrated london news_, _ st august _.--"from cover to cover the book is packed full of lively incidents, told in a quick, easy and vivid style, which holds the reader from the first page to the last.... it should find many readers all the empire over." _evening standard_, _ th july _.--"a more natural writer never published a book. for strong epithet allied to pungent diction he has not his superior outside rabelais." _yorkshire weekly post_, _ th august_ (or _ th august_) _ _.--"the new book is as good reading as the one before, which is saying a great deal for it." _glasgow herald_, _ th july _.--"the book is to be commended for its real interest and exciting narrative, combined with humour and plain-speaking." _dublin times_, _ th august _.--"to those who wish to know something of the life of a soldier and the kind of fighting that was done in those early days for the aggrandisement of the empire, we can give no better advice than to procure this book. it is full of candid criticism and genuine information." _the graphic_, _ th july _.--"'a lost legionary in south africa,' by colonel g. hamilton-browne, known as maori browne, contains some excellent stories." _review of reviews_, _july _.--"a book with the right ring; mainly concerned with fighting. the author preaches with rough and ready eloquence an impromptu sermon which will amuse, arrest and convince." _belfast news letter_, _ th august _.--"the book is written in the same attractive style as its predecessor, and there are many striking passages in it." books of travel _demy vo. cloth bindings. all fully illustrated_ through india and burma with pen and brush by a. hugh fisher. s. net alone in west africa by mary gaunt. s. net china revolutionised by j. s. thompson. s. d. net new zealand by dr max herz. s. d. net the diary of a soldier of fortune by stanley portal hyatt. s. d. net off the main track by stanley portal hyatt. s. d. net with the lost legion in new zealand by colonel g. hamilton-browne ("maori browne"). s. d. net a lost legionary in south africa by colonel g. hamilton-browne ("maori browne"). s. d. my bohemian days in paris by julius m. price. s. d. net with gun and guide in n.b. columbia by t. martindale. s. d. net siam by pierre loti. s. d. net memoirs of _the life and labours_ of the rev. samuel marsden, of paramatta, senior chaplain of new south wales; and of his early connexion with the missions to new zealand and tahiti. edited by the rev. j. b. marsden, m.a., author of "the history of the early and later puritans," etc. etc. london: the religious tract society; , paternoster row; , st. paul's churchyard; and , piccadilly: and sold by the booksellers. introductory note. the editor would make his kind acknowledgments to the church missionary and london missionary societies for the free use of the hitherto unpublished correspondence of mr. samuel marsden in their hands; and to j. s. nicholas, esq., who accompanied mr. marsden on his first visit to new zealand, for the use of a valuable manuscript account of his residence in new south wales, containing much information respecting mr. marsden. he has also had before him a manuscript life of mr. marsden by lieut. sadleir of paramatta, from which several extracts are made. and lastly, he would acknowledge the courtesy of those surviving friends who have placed in his hands mr. marsden's autograph letters to themselves or deceased members of their families. from these several sources the work has been chiefly compiled. the editor may be permitted to add, that the similarity of his name having led to the general conclusion (which however is incorrect) that he was related to mr. samuel marsden, he has been repeatedly urged to publish his life. at length this request being renewed by the religious tract society, into whose hands some valuable papers and documents had fallen, he was induced to comply with their wishes, under the conviction that the facts and incidents, as well as the moral grandeur, of mr. marsden's life, were too important to be suffered to lie any longer in comparative obscurity. there are ample materials for a much larger volume; but of course the editor has been obliged to select what appeared to be most suitable for general usefulness. contents. page introductory note iii chapter i. early life of mr. samuel marsden--his appointment to new south wales--voyage, and arrival in the colony chapter ii. discovery and early history of new south wales--becomes a penal settlement--its state, moral and religions, on mr. marsden's arrival chapter iii. mr. marsden appointed to the magistracy--objections to this considered--cultivates land--charge of secularity considered--his connexion with the london missionary society, and care of its polynesian mission--revisits england in distant view of sydney (_engraving_) chapter iv. various measures devised for the benefit of new south wales--the establishment of missions in new zealand--friendship with dr. mason good chapter v. return to the colony--duaterra--his strange adventures--mr. marsden's labours in new south wales--aborigines--their habits--plans for their civilization chapter vi. mr. marsden's correspondence with the london missionary society--buys the brig active--his first voyage to new zealand--journal of events chapter vii. death of duaterra--trials of mr. marsden in the colony--libel of philo-free--letter to the rev. george burder--to dr. mason good--sympathy of his friends in england--congratulations of the th regiment, and mr. m's acknowledgment--letters of lord gambier, rev. c. simeon, and mrs. fry chapter viii. tooi and teterree--mr. marsden's second voyage to new zealand--progress of the gospel there--shunghie--his ferocity--mr. marsden returns to new south wales--third voyage to new zealand--malicious charges brought against him in his absence--a commission of inquiry--its result--letters, etc.--approbation of the government the bay of islands, new zealand (_engraving_) chapter ix. fourth visit to new zealand--trials and successes of the various missions--shipwreck and danger of mr. marsden and the rev. s. leigh--returns home--letter to avison terry, esq. chapter x. aborigines--south sea mission--fresh slanders on mr. marsden's character--his pamphlet in self-defence--letter of messrs. bennett and tyerman--libels and action at law--verdict--case of ring--pastoral letters of mr. marsden: to a lady; on the divinity of christ--fifth voyage to new zealand--letters, etc. chapter xi. death of dr. mason good--malicious charges brought against mr. marsden and confuted--sixth voyage to new zealand-- frightful state of the island--battle of the maories--their cannibalism--progress of the mission--mr. marsden's return--death of mrs. marsden--anticipation of his own decease chapter xii. state of new south wales--the aborigines--cruelties practised upon them--attempts to civilize and convert them--they fail--mr. marsden's seventh visit to new zealand--his daughter's journal--affection of the natives--progress of the mission--danger from european vices--returns in h. m. s. rattlesnake to sydney paramatta church (_engraving_) chapter xiii. mr. marsden's ministerial pursuits and journeys--love of the country and of patriarchal story--his old age--its mental features--anecdotes--love of children--bishop broughton--his reverence for mr. marsden's character--mr. marsden's views of death, etc.--his habits of prayer--his illness and death chapter xiv. character of mr. marsden--his life and labours appendix i. progress of the gospel and of civilization in new zealand, since mr. marsden's decease appendix ii. state and prospects of the protestant mission at tahiti, under the french protectorate life of the reverend samuel marsden. chapter i. early life of mr. samuel marsden--his appointment to new south wales--voyage, and arrival in the colony. samuel marsden, whose life is sketched in the following pages, was not ennobled by birth or rank, nor was he greatly distinguished by splendid talents. yet he was, in the true sense, a great man; and he was an instance, one of the most striking of modern times, of the vast results which may be accomplished when an honest heart, a clear head, and a resolute mind and purpose, are directed, under the influence of the grace of god, to the attainment of a noble object. while he lived he shared the usual lot of those whose large philanthropy outruns the narrow policy of those around them. his motives were seldom understood, and in consequence he was thwarted and maligned. nor was it till death had removed him from the scene that either the grandeur of his projects or the depth of his self-denying, unobtrusive piety was generally appreciated. at length, however, his character has begun to be revered. it is perceived that he was, at least, a far-sighted man; and that in his own labours he was laying the foundations for the successes of thousands; while in the church of christ he is had in reverence as the apostle of new zealand--a title of high distinction, yet by no means misapplied to one who, in the simplicity of his faith as well as in zeal and self-denying labours, was truly an apostolic man. of his early life the memorials are but scanty. his father was a tradesman at horsforth, a village in the neighbourhood of leeds; and both his parents are known in the traditions of his family as having been persons of integrity and piety, attached to the ministry of the wesleyan methodists. he was born on the th of july, , and after receiving the elements of learning at a village school, was placed in the free grammar-school of hull, of which the celebrated dr. joseph milner, the ecclesiastical historian, and brother to the no less eminent dr. isaac milner, dean of carlisle, was then head master. here he was on the same form with dr. dealtry, the late rector of clapham and chancellor of winchester. of his early youth little more is known; for his modesty, rather than any sentiment of false shame, to which indeed his whole nature was opposed, seldom permitted him to speak of himself, or to dwell upon the adventures or incidents of his early life. he was removed from school to take his share in his father's business; but he now had higher thoughts, and longed to be a minister of christ. that he was a young man of more than ordinary promise is at once evident from the fact, that he was adopted by the elland society and placed at st. john's college, cambridge, to study for the ministry of the church of england. the elland society, so called from the parish in which its meetings are held, is an institution to which the cause of evangelical truth in the church of england has been much indebted for the last sixty or seventy years. it is simply an association of pious members of the church of england, who assist young men of enlightened zeal and suitable talents with the means of obtaining an education with a view to the christian ministry. in its early days, the funds were supplied by thornton, simeon, wilberforce, and others like minded with themselves; and the society was managed by a few devoted clergymen of yorkshire and the neighbouring counties; amongst whom were venn of huddersfield and joseph milner. to this society samuel marsden was introduced by his friend the reverend mr. whittaker, a neighbouring clergyman; and not without some apprehensions, it is said, on the part of the latter, lest his simple and unassuming manner should create a prejudice against him. such anxieties were superfluous. the milners themselves had fought their way to eminence from the weaver's loom, and well knew how to distinguish real worth, however unpretending. the piety, the manly sense, and the modest bearing of the candidate, at once won the confidence of the examiners; and he was sent to college at their expense. of his college life we are not aware that any memorials have been preserved. he was, no doubt, a diligent student; and from the warm friendship which grew up between himself and mr. simeon in after life, we may infer that he profited from his ministry. he had not yet completed his studies or taken his degree, when, to his great surprise, an offer was made to him by the government, of a chaplaincy in what was then designated "his majesty's territory of new south wales." that a post of such importance should have been offered, unsolicited, to a student hitherto quite unknown, is supposed to have been owing to the influence of mr. wilberforce. he had already secured the appointment of more than one pious chaplain to the colony, and from its commencement had always been anxious to promote its moral and religious welfare. at first, mr. marsden declined the tempting offer; for such it undoubtedly was to a young man in his circumstances, although no human sagacity could then foresee its vast importance. he was naturally anxious to complete his studies, and he had a deep and unaffected sense of his own incompetence, while yet so young and inexperienced. the offer, however, was repeated and pressed upon him, when he modestly replied, that he was "sensible of the importance of the post--so sensible, indeed, that he hardly dared to accept it upon any terms, but if no more proper person could be found, he would consent to undertake it." the choice reflects, no doubt, great credit upon the sagacity and spiritual discernment of those who made it. "young as he was," says one who knew him well in after life, dr. mason good, "he was remarkable for a firmness of principle, an intrepidity of spirit, a suavity of manner, a strong judgment, and above all, a mind stored with knowledge and deeply impressed with religious truth, which promised the happiest results." he was accordingly appointed as second chaplain to the settlement in new south wales, by a royal commission, bearing date st january, . he was ordained shortly afterwards, and proceeded at once to hull, from whence he was to take his passage in a convict transport, the only conveyance, at that period, for the far distant colony; a banishment of half a world. on the st of april, he was married to miss elizabeth tristan, in whom, for upwards of thirty years, he found not only an affectionate and faithful wife, but a companion singularly qualified to share his labours and lighten his toils. disinterested and generous as he was, even to a fault, it was to her admirable management that not only his domestic comfort, but even his means of assisting others so profusely, was owing in no small degree. while at hull, an incident occurred which shows to what an extent, even thus early in life, he possessed the art of gaining the respect and warm affection of those who knew him however slightly. while waiting for the sailing of the ship, he was frequently asked to officiate in various churches. one sunday morning, when he was just about to enter the pulpit, a signal-gun was heard; his ship was about to sail, and it was of course impossible for him to preach. taking his bride under his arm, he immediately left the church and walked down to the beach; but he was attended by the whole congregation, who, as if by one movement, followed in a body. from the boat into which he stepped he gave his parting benedictions, which they returned with fervent prayers, and tender farewells. he now found himself in a new world. what contrast could indeed be greater, or more distressing? the calm, though vigorous pursuits of cambridge, and the pious circle of warm christian friends, were at once exchanged for the society of felons, and the doubly irksome confinement of a convict-ship. from his journal, which has been fortunately preserved, we make the following extracts, omitting much which our space does not permit us to insert. "_sunday, th august, ._--this morning we weighed anchor, with a fair wind, and have sailed well all the day. how different this sabbath to what i have been accustomed to! once i could meet the people of god, and assemble with them in the house of prayer; but now am deprived of this valuable privilege; and instead of living among those who love and serve the lord jesus, spending the sabbath in prayer and praise, i hear nothing but oaths and blasphemies. lord, keep me in the midst of them, and grant that i may neither in word or deed countenance their wicked practices." it was not till the th of september that the fleet in which his ship sailed finally left cork. the war with france was then raging, and her fleets were still formidable; so that our merchantmen only ventured to put to sea in considerable numbers, and under the convoy of a ship of war. "_cork, th september._--this morning the signal was given by the commodore for all the ships under his convoy to weigh anchor and prepare for sea. about nine o'clock the whole fleet was under sail, which consisted of about forty ships. the wind was very fair, so that we were quickly in the main ocean. i was soon affected by the motion of the vessel; this rendered me quite unfit for any religious duties. oh! how miserable must their state be who have all their religion to seek when sickness and death come upon them. lord, grant that this may never be my case. "_monday, rd october._--i have this day been reading a portion of dr. dodd's 'prison thoughts.' what an awful instance of human infirmity is here! what need of humility in every situation, but more especially in the ministerial office! how needful the apostle's caution, 'let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall.'" the two following entries will be read with pain. the mercantile marine of england is still capable of great improvement in matters of religion, but we hope the instances are few in which the commander of a first rate merchant vessel would follow the examples they record. "_sunday, th september._--how different is this sabbath from those i have formerly known, when i could meet with the great congregation! i long for those means and privileges again. 'oh, when shall i come and appear before god?' yet it is a great consolation to me to believe that i am in the way of my duty. i requested the captain to-day to give me permission to perform divine service to the ship's company; he rather hesitated, _said he had never seen a religious sailor_, but at length promised to have service the following sunday. "_sunday, th october._--the last sabbath the captain promised me i should have liberty to perform divine service to-day, but to my great mortification, he now declines. how unwilling are the unconverted to hear anything of divine truth!" but mr. marsden was not one of those who are discouraged by a first repulse. the next sunday relates his triumph, and, from this time, divine service, whenever the weather allowed, was statedly performed, though the captain was a grossly immoral man, and mr. m. was constantly subject to annoyance. "_sunday, th._--i arose this morning with a great desire to preach to the ship's company, yet did not know how i should be able to accomplish my wish. we were now four ships in company. our captain had invited the captains belonging to the other three to dine with us to-day. as soon as they came on board i mentioned my design to one of them, who immediately complied with my wish, and said he would mention it to our captain, which he did, and preparations were made for me to preach. i read part of the church prayers, and afterwards preached from the rd chapter of st john, the th and th verses: 'as moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness,' etc. the sailors stood on the main deck, i and the four captains upon the quarter-deck; they were attentive, and the good effects were apparent during the remainder of the day. "_thursday, th december._--i have been reading of the success of mr. brainerd among the indians. how the lord owned and blessed his labours to the conversion of the heathen! nothing is too hard for the lord. this gives me encouragement under my present difficult undertaking. the same power can also effect a change upon those hardened ungodly sinners to whom i am about to carry the words of eternal life. "_january st, ._--a new year. i wish this day to renew my covenant with god, and to give myself up to his service more than ever i have done heretofore. may my little love be increased, my weak faith strengthened, and hope confirmed." in this humble yet trustful spirit, mr. marsden entered his new field of labour. on board the ship there were a number of convicts, whose daring wickedness--in which, indeed, they were countenanced by the whole conduct of the captain and his crew--grieved his righteous soul from day to day; while at the same time it prepared him, in some measure, for scenes amidst which his life was to be spent. "i am surrounded," he says, "with evil-disposed persons, thieves, adulterers, and blasphemers. may god keep me from evil, that i may not be tainted by the evil practices of those amongst whom i live." his last sermon was preached, "notwithstanding the unwillingness there was in all on board to hear the word of god," from the vision of dry bones (ezekiel xxvxii.) "i found some liberty, and afterwards more comfort in my own soul. i wish to be found faithful at last, and to give up my account with joy to god." to add to his anxieties, mrs. marsden was confined on shipboard, in stormy weather, and under circumstances peculiarly distressing, "though both the mother and daughter did well." but the same day the scene brightened; the perils and privations of the voyage were drawing to a close, and they were in sight of their future home--that magnificent australia--destined hereafter to assume, perhaps, a foremost place among the nations of the earth, though scarcely known to europe when mr. marsden first stepped upon its shores; and valued only by the british government as a settlement for the refuse of our jails. he thus gives utterance to the feelings of a grateful heart:-- "_march nd._--i shall ever retain a grateful sense of the mercies received this day, and the deliverances wrought. the lord is good, and a stronghold in the day of trouble, and knows them that fear him.... as soon as i had the opportunity to go upon deck, i had the happiness again to behold the land: it was a very pleasing sight, as we had not seen it since the rd of december. we came up with the cape about noon." in a few days, mr. marsden had taken up his abode in the "barracks" of paramatta, a few miles from port jackson, and entered upon his arduous and toilsome duties as chaplain to the colony. his first sunday in australia is thus described:--"saw several persons at work as i went along, to whom i spoke, and warned them of the evil of sabbath-breaking. my mind was deeply affected with the wickedness i beheld going on. i spoke from the th chapter of revelation.--'behold the great day of his wrath is come; and who shall be able to stand?' as i was returning home, a young man followed me into the wood, and told me how he was distressed for the salvation of his soul. he seemed to manifest the strongest marks of contrition, and to be truly awakened to a sense of his danger. i hope the lord will have many souls in this place." he had, for a short time, a single associate, in the rev. mr. johnson, the senior chaplain, a good and useful minister, but unequal to the difficulties peculiar to his situation. this gentleman soon relinquished his appointment, and returned to england. and thus mr. marsden was left alone with a charge which might have appalled the stoutest heart, and under which even his would have given way, had he not learned to cast himself for help on one who comforted the apostle, under circumstances of the keenest suffering, with the assurance, "my grace is sufficient for thee." on that grace our missionary chaplain trusted; and he found it all-sufficient. chapter ii. discovery and early history of new south wales--becomes a penal settlement--its state, moral and religious, on mr. marsden's arrival. the colony in which mr. marsden was now entering on his labours, and on which he was to leave the impression both of his holy zeal, and his far-sighted practical wisdom, is one of whose history our readers may naturally wish to have some account. we shall therefore suspend our narrative for a few pages, and lay before them a brief sketch of the earlier days of the great australian colony. europeans are indebted for their first knowledge of the existence of the vast country which now bears the name of australia, to the enterprise of spain and holland, when these nations were at the head of the world's commerce, two centuries and a half ago. in , luis de torres, who was sent out by the spanish government on a voyage of discovery, passed through the straits which still bear his name, and which separate new guinea from the greater continent of australia; but he was not aware of its vast extent, and merely concluded that the coasts along which he sailed were those of a group of islands. just about the same time, the dutch explored the eastern shores of what has since been termed the gulf of carpentaria; and their knowledge of australia was extended by subsequent voyagers, of whom the chief was abel tasman. in , he discovered van diemen's land, which was long supposed to be a part of the great continent named by the dutch new holland--the australia of modern times. known as tasmania, van diemen's land now immortalizes the great sea-captain. but these discoveries led to no immediate results of importance; and for upwards of a century new holland was laid down, in charts and maps, as a region whose coasts were not defined, and whose interior was utterly unknown. early in the reign of george the third a noble spirit of enterprise animated the british government. voyages of discovery were undertaken in the southern seas, under captains wallace, carteret, and others; and at length the celebrated captain cook may be said to have retrieved a new world from romance and fable, and to have made it over to england and to the best interests of mankind. on the evening of the th of april, , unknown land was descried from the mast-head of the "resolute," of which cook was the commander. the rugged coast of a vast continent seemed to extend far beyond the sweep of the telescope; and as the sun went down, the vessel, after soundings, dropped her anchor within a spacious bay. the smoke of distant fires told that the land was not without inhabitants; and it was determined, if possible, to open a communication with them. in the morning, a boat was rowed on shore, and the first englishman set his foot upon australia. a forest extended to the beach, and dipped its branches into the sea; while an abundant variety of beautiful flowering shrubs delighted the eye; and from this circumstance "botany bay" received its european name. a dismal solitude prevailed; for the natives, one or two of whom had been observed crouching behind the rocks, fled in terror to the woods as the boat approached. after spending a few hours on shore in search of water and fresh vegetables, and in the vain attempt to communicate with the savages, the boat returned at night. the bay was found to abound with fish; and the sailors were glad to relieve the weary monotony of their many months at sea, as well as to provide an agreeable change from their diet of salt meat and mouldy biscuits, in fishing both with nets and lines. fish too was a wholesome diet for the sick; and at this period, even in the navy, sickness, especially from the scurvy, almost invariably attended a long voyage. the natives, seeing the men thus employed, discovered in our sailors some tastes common to themselves, and at length ventured towards the fishermen in a couple of light canoes. after paddling about for some time in evident suspense, they ventured to approach the boat, then came still nearer and shouted, and having caught a few beads which were thrown out to them, immediately retired. gaining courage from the peaceful conduct of our sailors, who were instructed to continue their fishing without any attempt to follow them, the natives soon returned with a canoe laden with fine fish, which they readily bartered for such trifles as the boat was provided with. they were invited, by signs, to come on board the ship lying in the offing, which they soon ventured to do in considerable numbers. at first, they seemed harmless, scarcely understanding the use of the various novelties on ship board, and not much surprised by them; and honest, until the sight of ten or twelve fine turtle crawling on the deck proved too great a temptation. first, by signs they begged for some of these, and then, not succeeding, made a childish attempt to carry them off by force. they set little value on the beads and baubles which generally have so great a charm for savages. nothing tempted them to barter but turtle or iron tools and nails, neither of which could well be spared. on shore it was found almost impossible to approach them; such was the distrust and dismay with which they evidently regarded the intrusion of their strange visitors. on further acquaintance the savages were discovered to be a singularly helpless and timid race. their country appeared to be very thinly peopled, and that chiefly along the coast, for fish were plentiful and wild animals were few. of the latter, the largest was scarcely bigger than a greyhound, and the first sight of it caused great amazement to the sailors, one of whom rushed into the tent which had been pitched on the shore for the use of the sick, declaring, with horror depicted on his countenance, that he had seen an evil spirit. he described it as having assumed the colour of a mouse with two fore-paws, but that it sat upon its hind quarters "like a christian." an animal answering this description was soon after shot, and the flesh, when roasted, proved excellent food; it was called by the natives the kangaroo, and had hitherto been quite unknown to europeans. there were no beasts of prey; unless wild dogs deserved that title, but the long grass concealed vast numbers of snakes and scorpions. at night, the forests were disturbed by the hideous flight of huge bats; by day, they echoed to the whooping of cockatoos and the screaming of innumerable parrots. crows and a few wild pigeons were occasionally seen, and the rocks abounded with wild fowl, while now and then an eagle might be seen soaring far above. such were the first impressions which englishmen received, from their great voyager, of that vast continent. on the return of captain cook, the accounts he brought home of new south wales suggested to the government the idea of making it a vast prison-house for convicted felons, who had now become a sore burden, as well as a cause of grave uneasiness, to this country. its distance and its solitude recommended it to their choice. it would effectually rid the mother country of a dangerous class--this was the argument of the selfish; and it would afford the lost the opportunity of starting afresh in life--this was the hope of the few benevolent and humane who cared for the welfare of convicted felons. no one thought of the future grandeur of australia. none wrote or spoke at present of our duties to the aboriginal savages, or probably wasted a thought on the subject of their conversion. in , botany bay was selected by sir joseph banks, who had sailed with captain cook as a naturalist and scientific observer, as a most eligible site for a penal settlement. but the project was no sooner broached than it had to encounter the most determined opposition from the public, to most of whom it seemed no doubt utterly chimerical and absurd. the "gentleman's magazine," the great organ of literature and science at that time, led the van. at first the editors affected to treat the scheme as an extravagant hoax; afterwards they tell their readers "with what alarm they read in the public prints that so wild a project was actually to be carried into execution." however, "it could never be countenanced by any professional man after a moment's reflection. not only the distance, but the utter impossibility of carrying a number of male and female felons across the line, without the ravages of putrid disorders sweeping them off by the score, must for ever render such a plan abortive. the rains, the heats, tempests, tornados, and mountainous seas to be encountered, were enough to deter the most reckless of human life from such a hazardous enterprise. if any such desperadoes could be found, they ventured to foretell that their fate would for ever be a warning to others not to repeat the attempt." the subject was not suffered to rest; a few months afterwards sylvanus urban--for under this name the editors of that able journal have for upwards of a century disguised themselves--returned to the charge. "the ostensible design of the projector," they say, "to prepare a settlement for the reception of felons on the most barren, least inhabited, and worst cultivated country in the southern hemisphere, was beyond belief." moreover, "botany bay was beyond the reach of succour or assistance from any european settlement." then again the lavish expense of such an establishment was another serious objection. "it was said that it was to consist of a post-captain, a governor, with a salary of _l._ a-year, a master, and commander. a lieutenant-governor, with _l._ a-year, four captains, twelve subalterns, twelve sergeants, and one hundred and sixty rank and file from the marines; a surgeon, chaplain, and quartermaster. the whole equipment, army, navy, and felons, were to be supplied with two years' provisions, and all sorts of implements for the culture of the earth, and hunting and fishing. some slight buildings were to be run up until a proper fort and a town could be erected. if such a report could be true, the expense would equal that of an expedition to the south seas against an enemy." if such extravagance were repeated with every freight of felons, "it would furthermore extinguish all hope of paying off the national debt." we leave the reader to smile while he muses on the short-sightedness even of wise men, and the strange fluctuations of human opinion. the government persevered in spite of these prophetic warnings; which probably represented the general state of feeling on the subject among educated men in england, with whom, in those days, _sylvanus_ was no mean authority. accordingly, in march , eleven sail, consisting of the frigate sirius, an armed tender, three store-ships, and six transports, assembled at portsmouth, having on board five hundred and sixty-five male, and one hundred and ninety-two female convicts, under captain arthur phillip, an experienced officer, who was appointed governor of the new colony. the fleet set sail from the mother bank, on the th of may, , and after a tedious voyage of eight months, the whole convoy arrived safely in botany bay in the middle of january, . but captain cook's description of the country surrounding the bay was found far too flattering--the harbour being exposed to tempestuous gales, which often rolled a heavy sea upon the beach, while the land was deformed with swamps and barren sand banks. on pressing forward to a neighbouring creek, marked by captain cook as a mere boat harbour, governor phillip had the satisfaction to find one of the finest havens in the world, in which a thousand sail of the line might ride in safety. it was then called port jackson. the different coves of this harbour were examined with all possible expedition, and the preference was given to one which had the finest spring of water, and in which ships might anchor so close to the shore that, at a very small expense, quays could be constructed where the largest vessels might unload. this cove is about half a mile in length, and about a quarter of a mile across at the entrance. in honour of lord sydney, the governor distinguished it by the name of sydney cove. on the twenty-sixth of february, , the british colours were displayed on these shores; the plan of an encampment, the first rude outline of the metropolitan city of sydney, was formed. the spot chosen was at the head of the cove, near a stream of fresh water, which stole silently along by a thick wood now the site of crowded streets, the stillness of which for the first time since the creation was then broken by the rude sound of the labourer's axe, and the hum of busy men. the anniversary of this great event has for some years been a festival in new south wales. governor phillip landed with a thousand and thirty souls; his live stock consisted of six head of horned cattle and seven horses. the town and district of sydney has now a population of three hundred thousand souls; every year the increase is enormous; and the ratio of each year's increase exceeds the last. these figures, however, make but a feeble impression upon us at a distance. the colonists feel a warmth of enthusiasm such as only the sight of the marvellous contrast can create. we copy the following extract from the sydney herald on one of these anniversaries--"the nativity of the city of sydney and of the colony of new south wales." "when we compare the town and the country as they are now with what they were then, we may well be proud of british enterprise, and of the local resources which it has so rapidly and triumphantly developed. how forcibly are we reminded of the miraculous transformation foretold by the inspired son of amoz--'the wilderness and the solitary place shall be glad for them, and the desert shall rejoice and blossom as the rose.' let the imagination attempt this day to realize the enchanting contrast. as we look upon the noble ships riding in our harbour, and the steamers, yachts, wherries, and boats innumerable, gliding to and fro amid the joyous excitements of the regatta, let us picture the three humble boats which, this day fifty-seven years,[a] were slowly creeping up the unknown waters of port jackson, in quest of a sure resting-place for our first predecessors. as we cast our eye over the elegant buildings which now skirt our shores on either side, and over the crowds of well-dressed men, women and children, who are keeping holiday on this our national festival, let us think of the dense woods which then frowned on governor phillip, of the profound silence that reigned around him, of the awful sense of solitude with which he and his little band must have been impressed, and of the exultation they would have felt could they have foreseen that, within so brief a term, the wilderness they were approaching would have become 'replenished' with a teeming population, and have been 'subdued' to the beauty and affluence of civilized life." [a] this was published in . but the dark side of this romantic picture must not be withheld. the infant colony was chiefly composed of the worst class of felons; they were the days of barbarous justice even in england, and it would often be difficult to say why some convicts were sentenced to transportation, while others for lighter causes were punished with death. there was, at that time, a fearful indifference to human life in our penal code. punishment was its sole object; amendment was seldom if ever contemplated. amongst the convicts there was every shade of crime, but scarcely any corresponding gradation of punishment. the truth is, true religion was at its lowest ebb, and pure philanthropy, in consequence, all but unknown; a formal, heartless religion prevailed; and, as one of its fruits, a stern and iron code of law. the convict-ship, which has now become a reformatory school, was rivalled in its horrors only by the slave-ship; indeed if the physical suffering was greater in the latter, in moral torture and mental defilement the hold of the convict-ship had, beyond all doubt, the bad pre-eminence. the prisoners consisted of the most abandoned persons of all nations; british, dutch, and portuguese sailors, the polite swindler, and the audacious highwayman, with their female accomplices. they were shipped off in chains; during the passage outward a detachment of soldiers was constantly on guard; and the voyage was seldom accomplished without bloodshed. the secret plots, in which the prisoners were continually engaged, broke out into open mutiny whenever circumstances offered a chance of success; for this purpose a storm, a leak, or a feigned sickness, was readily taken advantage of. when signs of such disturbances showed themselves, the ringleaders were seized and tried in a summary way by court martial; but the sailors often refused to enforce the sentence, so that it became necessary to compel obedience with loaded muskets. the hold of a convict-ship presented a melancholy picture of human depravity. in the course of the voyage most of the felons survived the sense of shame: the sounds of ribaldry and boisterous mirth, mingled with catches from the popular songs of the day, issued unceasingly from the prisoners' deck; this uproar was ever and anon increased by more riotous disturbances, blows and bloodshed followed; and occasionally the monotony of the voyage was broken by mock trials among the prisoners, to show that even in the most profligate and abandoned the principle of justice was not altogether destroyed. when a prisoner committed an offence against his fellows, a judge was appointed, advocates were assigned to the prosecutor and the accused, a jury was sworn to try according to the evidence, witnesses were examined, and the prisoner, being found guilty, was sentenced to an immediate and brutal punishment. from such elements the society of new south wales was formed. most of the convicts, after a short servitude, obtained tickets-of-leave, and settled upon the parcels of land allotted to them by government; and by the improvement of such opportunities they easily drew a subsistence from the soil; others devoted themselves to the care of cattle; while many more, as the colony increased, betook themselves to trade, by which means large fortunes were frequently acquired. many of the convicts in the course of a few years contrived to amass great wealth, which was expended in the extension, or improvement of their property. the results of such industry were to be seen in the cleared inclosures, the neat orchard, and the trim garden that here and there surrounded a well-built brick-house. even here honest labour seems to have been crowned with success. free settlers were at present few in number, and the convict on his plot of land had many advantages over them. from acquaintance with the climate and the modes of cultivation best suited to the soil, as well as the easiest method of carrying on agricultural operations, he had learned to avoid many fruitless experiments. he understood the habits and character of the servants who assisted him, for the labourers were all of them felons; and he himself had probably shared the same cell, and worked in the same gang. he understood their principles of action; and they were infected with his prejudices. they lived together, ate at the same board and slept under the same roof. thus a good understanding was maintained between them by his connivance with their follies or their vices. the men themselves always preferred a master who had been a prisoner to a free settler of stricter virtue, and a disposition less akin to their own; and for such an one they would make extraordinary exertions, of great importance at seed time and harvest, which a better master could not obtain at any cost. a brotherhood and close fellowship, the fruit of old associations, sprang up among the convict population. many considered themselves as martyrs to the vengeance rather than the justice of the law; others, transported for political offences, regarded themselves in the light of patriots. in short a unity of interest cemented them; and each newly arrived convict ship was heartily welcomed. when it anchored in the harbour boats swarmed around it, the decks were crowded, the new comers were loaded with presents of fresh bread and other luxuries. they were pressed with eager inquiries after absent friends, the comrades they had left in english jails. they were greeted with the heartiness of old companions, and without reluctance exchanged the close confinement of the convict ship for the fellowship of their old acquaintance on shore. the colony at this time abounded with irish who had shared in the rebellion of , and who generally brought with them a fair knowledge of agriculture without very industrious habits. they attached little turpitude to their offences, considering themselves rather as sacrificed to the cause of freedom. indeed it is well ascertained that some of them had been banished without even the formality of a trial, some without any specific sentence as to the term of their transportation, victims to the angry spirit of the times. they are described as, for the most part, conducting themselves with great propriety in the hope of one day regaining their freedom, and being restored to their long absent friends. such men as these proved excellent colonists, and successful settlers. the criminal history of the colony in its first years discloses a dreadful list of both crimes and punishments. small bodies of the convicts occasionally broke loose, fled to the woods, and there, setting all restraints at defiance, became reckless and ferocious. the dread of punishment did not restrain them from robbery, murder, and the most appalling crimes. the risks were well calculated, for the chances of conviction were few, and punishment was uncertain. if they were detected, a convict, being dead in law, could not be summoned as a witness. the jury would probably be composed of men who had been sharers in crimes of equal magnitude, perhaps old associates. the prisoners would be defended by convict attorneys, a nefarious class with which the colonial courts were filled. ineffectual attempts were made to exclude these men, but the influence they had been suffered already to attain, made this impracticable. amongst the most notorious of them was one who obtained a large practice by dint of his ingenuity, and managed the most important business in the colony. he had been some years previously sentenced to transportation for life, for forging a will. he had resorted to the ingenious device of putting a _fly_ into the mouth of a dead man, and then guiding his hand to trace his signature to the writing; and, upon the trial, he swore, with audacious assurance, that he saw the testator sign the will while _life_ was in him. in passing sentence, the late lord ellenborough took the opportunity of congratulating the profession on getting rid of such a pest. the records of the court are scarcely less painful than the history of the criminals themselves. the punishments adjudged were frightfully severe. if they did not reclaim the prisoner, they must have hardened him beyond recovery, if indeed they did not in many instances torture him to death. the men thus punished were already convicts it is true, and more than usual severity may have been justified. but no penal code emanating from a people professing the name of christ may inflict savage and barbarous penalties. they recoil with disgrace upon the legislation which exacts them, and a whole nation is degraded in the person of its own malefactors; while god's displeasure is evident both in the increase and audacity of criminals on the one hand, and in the loss of humane and virtuous sentiments throughout the community on the other. we have taken three cases as a specimen of the method in which justice was dealt out to criminals in the early days of the colony in new south wales. "john allen, stealing in dwelling-house to the value of forty shillings. publicly whipped, hundred lashes, confined in solitary cell at paramatta on bread and water for six months, and hard labour at newcastle three years." "michael hoare and james gilchrist, feloniously and burglariously breaking and entering schoolhouse at kissing point, and stealing from there divers articles of property. twelve months solitary confinement at paramatta, two years hard labour in jail gang, then transported for life to newcastle." "john hale, robert holton, and peter allen, killing a bullock with intent to steal the carcase. solitary confinement on bread and water for three years in paramatta jail, afterwards two years labour in jail gang there, and afterwards transportation for life to newcastle."[b] [b] see wentworth's colony of new south wales, second edition, . such was the sphere of mr. marsden's labours, such the difficulties with which he had to contend, and the system, too, which, as a magistrate, he was even called upon to administer. a more hopeless task could scarcely have been undertaken; but he set himself vigorously to work, looking to the strong one for strength, and the fruit was "seen after many days." chapter iii. mr. marsden appointed to the magistracy--objections to this considered--cultivates land--charge of secularity considered--his connexion with the london missionary society, and care of its polynesian mission--revisits england in . the retirement of the senior chaplain left mr. marsden in sole charge of the spiritual concerns of the infant colony. he had now to officiate at the three settlements of sydney, paramatta, and hawkesbury without assistance. the nature of the population, consisting as it did of a mass of criminals, rendered his ministerial labours peculiarly distressing. the state of morals was utterly depraved; oaths and ribaldry, and audacious lying were universal; marriage, and the sacred ties of domestic life, were almost unknown, and those who, from their station, should have set an example to the convicts and settlers, encouraged sin in others by the effrontery of their own transgressions. under discouragement such as would have subdued the spirit of most men, did he, for the long period of fourteen years, continue at his post; cheered it is true with occasional gleams of success, but upon the whole rather a witness against abounding vice, than, at present, a successful evangelist. nor were domestic trials wanting to complete that process of salutary discipline by which "the great shepherd of the sheep" was preparing his servant for other and wider scenes of labour, and for triumphs greater than the church in these later days had known. his firstborn son, a lovely and promising child scarcely two years old, was thrown from its mother's arms by a sudden jerk of the gig in which they were seated, and killed upon the spot. it would be impossible to describe the agonized feelings of the mother under such a bereavement, nor were the sorrows of the father less profound. he received the tidings, together with the body of his lifeless boy, we are told, with "calm, and even dignified submission," for "he was a man who said little though he felt much." a second stroke, still more painful, was to follow. mrs. marsden, determined not to hazard the safety of another child, left her babe at home in charge of a domestic while she drove out. but her very precaution was the occasion of his death: the little creature strayed into the kitchen unobserved, fell backwards into a pan of boiling water, and its death followed soon after. thus early in his ministerial career the iron entered his own soul, and taught him that sympathy for the wounded spirit which marked his character through life. [illustration: distant view of sydney.] but from these scenes of private suffering we must turn aside. the public life and ministerial labours of mr. marsden require our attention; and as we enter upon the review of them we must notice two circumstances which from the very outset of his career exposed him to frequent suspicion and obloquy, both in the colony and at home, and formed in fact the chief materials, so to speak, out of which his opponents wove the calumnies with which they harassed the greater portion of his life. he had scarcely arrived at his post when he was appointed a colonial magistrate. under ordinary circumstances, we should condemn in the strongest manner the union of functions so obviously incompatible as those of the christian minister and the civil judge. to use the words of a great living authority on judicial questions, a late lord chancellor,[c] "it is the union of two noble offices to the detriment of both." yet it seems in the case before us, that the office was forced upon mr. marsden, not as a complimentary distinction, but as one of the stern duties of his position as a colonial chaplain, who was bound to maintain the authority of the law amidst a population of lawless and dangerous men. port jackson, or botany bay as it was generally called, was then and long afterwards merely a penal settlement. the governor was absolute, and the discipline he enforced was, perhaps of necessity, harsh and rigid. resistance to the law and its administrators was of daily occurrence; life and property were always insecure, and even armed rebellion sometimes broke out. if the government thought it necessary, for the safety of this extraordinary community, to select a minister of the gospel to fill the office of a magistrate, he had no alternative but to submit, or else to resign his chaplaincy and return home. mr. marsden chose to remain; moved by the hope of being able to infuse something of the spirit of the gospel into the administration of justice, and to introduce far higher principles than those which he saw prevailing amongst the magistrates themselves. in both of these objects he succeeded to an eminent extent, though not till after the lapse of years, and a remonstrance carried by himself in person to the government at home. justice was dealt even to the greatest criminals more fairly, and the bench of magistrates grew at length ashamed, in the presence of the chaplain of paramatta, of its own hitherto unabashed licentiousness. but the cost was great. he was involved in secular business from day to day, and that often of the most painful kind. his equal-handed justice made him a host of personal enemies in those whose vices he punished; and, still more, in those whose corrupt and partial administration of the law was rebuked by the example of his integrity. in the share he was obliged to take in the civil affairs of the colony differences of opinion would naturally arise, and angry feelings would, as usual follow. of course he was not free from human infirmity, his own temper was sometimes disturbed. thus for years, especially during his early residence in new south wales, he was in frequent collision with the magistrates, and occasionally even with the governor. again and again he would have resigned his commission, but was not allowed to do so; meanwhile his mind was often distracted and his character maligned. to these trials we shall be obliged to refer as we trace his steps through life; but we mean to do so as seldom as we can, for the subject is painful, and, since few men can ever be placed in his circumstances, to most of us unprofitable. [c] lord brougham. another point on which mr. marsden's conduct has been severely, and yet most unjustly blamed, is that he was engaged in the cultivation of a considerable tract of land. avarice and secularity were roundly charged upon him in consequence; for it was his painful lot through life to be incessantly accused not only of failings of which he was quite guiltless, but of those which were the most opposite to his real character. a more purely disinterested and unselfish man perhaps never lived. one who under the constant disturbance of every kind of business and employment, still "walked" more "humbly with his god," is not often to be found. yet the cry once raised against him was never hushed; until at length, having rung in his ears through life, as a warning to him, no doubt, even in his brightest moments of success, that he should "cease from man," it was suddenly put to shame at last and buried with him in his grave. the circumstances were these: when he arrived in the colony, in the beginning of , it was yet but six years old. the cultivation of land had scarcely begun; it was therefore dependent on supplies of food from home, and was often reduced to the brink of famine. one cask of meat was all that the king's stores contained when mr. marsden first landed on those shores from which the produce of the most magnificent flocks and herds the world has ever pastured was afterwards to be shipped. governor phillip, as we have seen, had laid the foundation of the colony amid scenes of difficulty and trial which it is fearful to contemplate. in september, , captain hunter arrived, and following in the steps of his predecessor, exerted himself in clearing land and bringing it under cultivation. to effect this he made a grant to every officer, civil and military, of one hundred acres, and allowed each thirteen convicts as servants to assist in bringing it into order. mr. marsden availed himself of the grant, and his farm soon exhibited those marks of superior management which might have been looked for by all who were acquainted with the energy of his character and his love of rural pursuits. where land was to be had on such easy terms, it was not to be desired or expected that he should be limited to the original grant. he soon possessed an estate of several hundred acres--the model farm of new south wales;--and, let it not be forgotten, the source from whence those supplies were drawn which fed the infant missions of the southern seas, while at the same time they helped their generous owner to support many a benevolent institution in his own parish and neighbourhood. years afterwards he was induced to print a pamphlet in justification of his conduct in this as well as other particulars on which it was assailed; and as we copy an extract from it, our feeling is one of shame and sorrow that it should ever have been required. he says, "i did not consider myself in the same situation, in a temporal point of view, in this colony as a clergyman in england. my situation at that period would bear no such comparison. a clergyman in england lives in the very bosom of his friends; his comforts and conveniences are all within his reach, and he has nothing to do but to feed his flock. on the contrary, i entered a country which was in a state of nature, and was obliged to plant and sow or starve. it was not from inclination that my colleague and i took the axe, the spade, and the hoe: we could not, from our situation, help ourselves by any other means, and we thought it no disgrace to labour. st. paul's own hands ministered to his necessities in a cultivated nation, and our hands ministered to our wants in an uncultivated one. if this be cast upon me as a shame and a reproach, i cheerfully bear it, for the remembrance never gives me any cause of reproach or remorse." monsieur perron, a commander sent out by the french government to search for the unfortunate la perouse (who had recently perished in an exploratory voyage to the islands of the south pacific), visited mr. marsden's farm in , and records, with the generous admiration his countrymen have never withheld from english enterprise and industry, his astonishment and delight. "no longer," he exclaims, "than eight years ago, the whole of this spot was covered with immense and useless forests; what pains, what exertions must have been employed! these roads, these pastures, these fields, these harvests, these orchards, these flocks, the work of eight years!" and his admiration of the scene was not greater than his reverence for its owner, "who," he adds, "while he thus laboured in his various important avocations was not unmindful of the interests of others. he generously interfered in behalf of the poorer settlers in their distresses, established schools for their children, and often relieved their necessities; and to the unhappy culprits, whom the justice of their offended country had banished from their native soil, he administered alternately exhortation and comfort." indeed, it would be no easy task to enumerate all the schemes of social, moral, and spiritual enterprise upon which mr. marsden was now employed, and into all of which he appears to have thrown a force and energy which is generally reserved, even by the zealous philanthropist, for some one favoured project. thus the state of the female convicts, at a very early period, especially attracted his attention. their forlorn condition, their frightful immoralities--the almost necessary consequence of the gross neglect which exposed them to temptation, or rather thrust them into sin--pressed heavily upon him, and formed the subject of many solemn remonstrances, first to the authorities abroad, and when these were unheeded, to the government at home. the wrongs of the aborigines, their heathenism, and their savage state, with all its attendant miseries and hopeless prospects in eternity, sank into his heart; and under his care a school arose at paramatta for their children. the scheme, as we shall explain hereafter, was not successful; but at least it will be admitted "he did well that it was in" his "heart." he was often consulted by the successive governors on questions of difficulty and importance, and gave his advice with respect, but at the same time with honest courage. amusing anecdotes are told of some of their interviews. a misunderstanding had occurred between governor king and himself, which did not, however, prevent the governor from asking his advice. mr. marsden was allowed to make his own terms, which were that he should consider governor king as a private individual, and as such address him. much to his credit, the governor consented. mr. marsden then locked the door, and in plain and forcible terms explained to _captain_ king the faults, as he conceived, of _governor_ king's administration. they separated on the most friendly terms; and if we admire the courage of the chaplain, we must not overlook the self-command and forbearance of the governor. with a dash of eccentricity the affair was honourable to both parties. another instance of mr. marsden's ready tact and self-possession may be mentioned. governor king, who possessed, by virtue of his office, the most absolute power, was not only eccentric but somewhat choleric. on one occasion, when mr. marsden was present, a violent dispute arose between the governor and the commissary-general. mr. marsden not being at liberty to leave the room, retired to a window, determined not to be a witness of the coming storm. the governor, in his heat, pushed or collared the commissary, who in return, pushed or struck the governor. his excellency, indignant at the insult, called to the chaplain, "do you see that, sir!" "indeed, sir," replied mr. m., "_i see_ nothing," --dwelling with jocular emphasis on the word see. thus good humour was immediately restored, and the grave and even treasonable offence of striking the representative of the sovereign was forgotten. these trifling circumstances are worth relating, not only in illustration of mr. marsden's character, but of the history of the earlier days of the colony. but graver duties had already devolved upon him. amongst the unpublished manuscripts of the london missionary society, there is one document of singular interest, in connexion with the name of samuel marsden. it is a memorandum of seventeen folio pages on the state and prospects of their missions to tahiti and the islands in the south seas, dated "paramatta, th january, ," and "read before the committee" in london--such was the slow, uncertain communication fifty years ago with a colony now brought within sixty days' sail of england--"on the th of april, ." foremost in the literature of another generation will stand those treasures which slumber, for the most part unvalued and undisturbed, on the shelves of our missionary houses. for men will surely one day inquire, with an interest similar to that with which we read of the conversion of britain in the dim light of ingulphus and the saxon chronicle, or the venerable bede, how distant islands were first evangelized, and through what sorrows, errors, and reverses, the first missionary fought his way to victory in continents and islands of the southern hemisphere. and of these, the document which now lies before us will be esteemed as inferior to none in calm and practical wisdom, in piety, or in ardent zeal tempered with discretion. the circumstances which called it forth were these. the tahitian mission, the first great effort of the london missionary society, and indeed the first protestant mission, with perhaps one exception,[d] to savage tribes, had hitherto disappointed the sanguine expectations of its promoters. we trust we shall not be thought to make a display of that cheap wisdom which consists in blaming the failures of which the causes were not seen until the catastrophe had occurred, if we say that, great and truly magnificent as the project was, it carried within itself the elements of its own humiliation. the faith and zeal of its founders were beyond all human praise; but in the wisdom which results from experience, they were of course deficient. "to attempt great things, and to expect great things," was their motto; but they did not appreciate the difficulties of the enterprise; nor did they duly estimate the depth of the depravity of the savage heart and mind. dr. haweis, a london clergyman of great piety and note in those days, preached before the society when the first missionary ship, the duff, was about to sail. he described to his delighted audience the romantic beauty and grandeur of the islands which lie like emeralds upon the calm bosom of the southern ocean, and anticipated their immediate conversion as soon as they should hear the first glad tidings of the gospel. the ship sailed from the tower wharf, with flags flying and banners streaming, as if returning from a triumph, amidst the cheers of the spectators. amongst the crowd there stood a venerable minister of christ, leaning upon the arm of one who still survives--himself a veteran in the service of his lord. as they turned slowly away from the exciting scene, the aged minister mournfully exclaimed, "i am afraid it will not succeed: there is too much of man in it." his words were prophetic; for nearly twenty years no success followed, but one sweeping tide of disappointment and disaster;[e] till, at length, when, humbled and dejected, about the year , the missionaries, as well as the society at home, in despair had almost resolved to abandon the station, the work of god appeared in the conversion of the king of tahiti; and with a rapidity to be compared only to the long, cheerless, period in which they had "laboured in vain, and spent their strength for nought," the missionaries beheld not only tahiti, but the adjacent islands transformed into christian lands. [d] that of the moravians to labrador. the wesleyans had a mission in the west indies, and the society for the propagation of the gospel had long had the care of the danish missions at malabar. but none of these were missions, in the strict sense, among savages. [e] this anecdote we relate on the authority of the younger minister, from whom we received it. the elder one was the rev. samuel bradburn, the friend and associate of wesley.--editor. it was in the midst of these disasters that mr. marsden was consulted, and wrote the memorandum to which we have referred. if in some places he seems to lay too great stress upon what may appear to the reader prudential considerations of inferior importance, let us remind him that on these very points the missionaries had betrayed their weakness. their own quarrels and even the gross misconduct of some few amongst them, were not less painful to the church at home than their want of success. we make a few extracts: "... the first and principal object for the consideration of the directors is to select men properly qualified for the mission; unless persons equal to the task are sent out nothing can be done. it may be asked, who are proper persons, and what are the requisite qualifications? to the question i would reply in general terms. a missionary should be a man of real sound piety, and well acquainted with the depravity of the human heart, as well as experimental religion; he should not be a novice; he should not only be a good man in the strictest sense of the word, but also well informed, not taken from the dregs of the common people, but possessed of some education, and liberal sentiments. he should rather be of a lively active turn of mind than gloomy and heavy. a gloomy ignorant clown will be disgusting even to savages, and excite their contempt. the more easy and affable a missionary is in his address, the more easily will he obtain the confidence and good opinion of the heathen. "in my opinion a man of a melancholy habit is altogether unqualified for a missionary; he will never be able to sustain the hardships attending his situation, nay, he will magnify his dangers and difficulties and make them greater than what in reality they may be. a missionary, were i to define his character, should be a pious good man, should be well acquainted with mankind, should possess some education, should be easy in address, and of an active turn. some of the missionaries who have come to this colony, are the opposite character to the above. they are totally ignorant of mankind, they possess no education, they are clowns in their manners. if the directors are determined to establish a mission in these islands there is another object to be attended to; they must send out a sufficient body and furnish them with the means of self-defence. unless the missionaries are able to protect themselves from the violence of the natives, they will be in constant danger of being cut off by them. their lives, if unprotected by their own strength, will hang sometimes perhaps upon the fate of a single battle between two contending chiefs. can any idea be more distressing than for the lives of a few defenceless missionaries to depend upon the sudden whim or turn of an enraged savage, without the means of self-defence? see them driven, in order to escape the savage fury of the natives, into holes and caverns of the rocks, suffering every hardship that nature can bear from hunger, toil, and anxiety, without so much as the prospect of relief in time of danger from europe, or accomplishing in the smallest degree the object of the mission. yet this must and will be the case, unless the missionaries are furnished with the means of self-defence, and are able to convince the natives of their superiority in point of skill and protection." many will condemn this counsel. nor do we feel bound to justify it to the letter. a reasonable degree of caution in avoiding danger, and under great emergency in preparing measures for self-defence, may be allowed even to the missionary. yet experience shows that his safety chiefly lies in cultivating and exhibiting the spirit of him who "suffered the just for the unjust," and "when led as a lamb to the slaughter, yet opened not his mouth." various prudential hints follow, on marriage and other delicate subjects. the reader will smile to learn that fifty years ago it was a question at missionary boards whether married men were not disqualified for missionary work. it was argued that their wives would be exposed to ill-usage from the natives, and that they themselves would be diverted by the anxieties or the comforts of home from their proper calling. mr. marsden combats both of these objections. "it appears to me that a married woman, coming along with her husband in the mission, would have no extraordinary dangers to apprehend from the natives, and would, if a prudent woman, prove the greatest comfort and protection to her husband, sweeten his toils and sustain his burdens." beyond this even mr. marsden's views did not yet extend. the time had not yet come when experience should drive the friends of missions, in the failure of many a plausible theory, to fall back simply on the new testament, not merely for their principles, for this they did, but for the best and safest precedents in missionary work. they forgot how large a share of the honours of the primitive church in its labours for christ belong to the weaker sex. that a missionary's wife might be no less, nay in some instances far more, successful than her husband was a thought not yet entertained in missionary counsels. they did not foresee that the instruction of the native woman, and the christian education of the heathen child, would soon become the special province of the missionary's wife. mrs. wilson had not yet arisen "a mother in israel," nor mrs. judson, nor others whose fame is only less in missionary annals, because their work has been carried on in places less interesting, or at least less open to the world's gaze, than calcutta and burmah. nor can we give more than a hesitating and partial consent to some of the following observations: "civilization must pave the way for the conversion of the heathen. as the natives in these islands are totally unconnected with the commercial world, however friendly disposed they may be towards strangers, they are, nevertheless, in a state of gross ignorance and barbarity. they must, from their social situation, their great distance from the civilized part of the world, be less prepared to receive the gospel than the esquimaux on the coast of labrador or the negroes in the west indian islands, and other parts of the heathen world where the moravians in general send their missionaries. the heathens in these islands are, in the strictest sense, in a state of nature. hence it becomes the indispensable duty of the missionaries to use every means for their civilization, and not to imagine they are already prepared to receive the blessings of divine revelation." true, they were not prepared. but here we are at variance alike with dr. haweis on the one hand, and mr. marsden on the other. "the preparation of the heart," the wise man tells us, "is from the lord;" and this is a kind of preparation which civilization will not supply. it is easy, as we have said, to find fault with men who, whatever their mistakes, deserve the veneration of the church. let it be borne in mind that of savage life, its horrors, its ferocity, its cannibalism, england then knew but little. had they been favoured with the experience we now possess, they would have felt more deeply how impotent a weapon is civilization to hew down the strongholds of satan in a heathen land; their failures perhaps would have been fewer, and their successes more speedy if not more complete. a true christian missionary, amongst savages, must be of necessity a civilizer. his own pure and quiet homestead, adorned with the arts of life, his cultivated garden, his neatly fenced paddock, the corn-field which soon follows, and then the mill--all these, and, we may say, all the habits and circumstances of his life, directly tend to civilize; and thus the process of outward reformation goes on amongst the surrounding tribes, while the spiritual seed is being sown in the native heart. and it will sometimes happen that native tribes are civilized before they are converted, simply because the carnal mind rejects the spiritual lesson, while selfishness, or the mere love of imitation, (equally powerful in the breast of children and of savages) induces them readily to adopt european habits. but after all we question whether the native heathen thus outwardly changed is one whit more likely to embrace the gospel than before. there is, however, much truth in the following remarks; they show a thoughtful mind, and they prove too, if we are not mistaken, that the gospel of jesus christ has lost nothing of its pristine force after the lapse of eighteen centuries; for the christian missions of our own day have triumphed amidst some difficulties against which even the apostles had not to contend. "the conduct of the apostles cannot exactly apply as a guide to the missionaries in these islands; st. paul was sent to preach a crucified jesus, not to savage, but to civilized heathens; to greece and rome, to nations noted for their politeness of manners and human learning, the inhabitants both of greece and rome had obtained the highest degree of civilization, they were"--intellectually, of course, mr. marsden must be understood to mean--"prepared for the reception of the gospel; their philosophers had for ages been making diligent inquiries after the true god; they had erected altars and the most magnificent temples for the worship of some superior being whom they knew not. this is not the case with the natives of these islands.... it is unnecessary for me to contrast the situations of the primitive apostles and the present missionaries, and to point out their vast difference. sacred and profane history will furnish the missionaries with this information, provided they will study their records." mr. marsden continued to be through life the confidential adviser of the london missionary society, and the warm friend and, as they passed to and fro upon their voyages, the kind host of their missionaries. his character was now established. the colony was rapidly increasing in importance; and yet no change had been made in its government, which was still committed to the absolute direction of a single mind, that of the colonial governor. he too was a military officer, and not always one of high position and large capacity, or even of the purest morals; for by such men the governorship of his majesty's territory in new south wales would have then been disdained. mr. marsden had done much, but much more remained to be accomplished. there were mischiefs that lay far beyond his reach, and spurned control. on the first establishment of the colony all the military officers were forbidden to take their wives with them--the governor and chaplains were the only exceptions--and there is one instance of a lady whose love to her husband led her to steal across the ocean in the disguise of a sailor, who was actually sent home again by governor phillip without being permitted to land. our readers may anticipate the consequences which followed in an almost universal licentiousness. the most abandoned females often appeared fearlessly before the magistrates, well knowing that they would have impunity even for the greatest crimes; and male offenders used their influence to obtain a judgment in their favour. expostulation, remonstrance, and entreaty mr. marsden had tried in vain. "of all existing spots in new south wales the court of judicature at sydney," it was publicly affirmed, "was the most iniquitous and abandoned;" and at length a rebellious spirit broke out, and the authority of the governor, even in his military capacity, was at an end. the efforts of the faithful chaplain were now thwarted at the fountain head, and his life was not unfrequently in danger. mr. marsden's sagacity fastened the conviction on his mind that a crisis was at hand, which could only be averted by the interference of the government at home. he therefore asked for, and obtained, permission to revisit england. his fears were just; he had already assisted in quelling one rebellion, and another of a more serious nature broke out soon after he embarked, which drove the governor from the colony, and ended in his recall, and the establishment of a new order of things. the spiritual fruit of mr. marsden's labours had not yet been great, but already the foundations had been laid for extensive usefulness. on the eve of his departure, he was presented with a gratifying address, bearing the signatures of three hundred and two persons, "the holders of landed estates, public offices, and other principal inhabitants of the large and extensive settlements of hawkesbury, nepean, and portland-head, and adjacent parts of new south wales," conveying "their grateful thanks for his pious, humane, and exemplary conduct throughout this whole colony, in the various and arduous situations held by him as a minister of the gospel, superintendent magistrate, inspector of public, orphan, and charity schools, and in other offices." they thank him too for "his attention and cares in the improvement of stock, agriculture, and in all other beneficial and useful arts, for the general good of the colony, and for his unremitting exertions for its prosperity," and conclude thus:--"your sanctity, philanthropy, and disinterestedness of character, will ever remain an example to future ministers; and that god, whom we serve, may pour down his blessings upon you and yours to the latest posterity, is the sincere prayer of those who sign this address." chapter iv. various measures devised for the benefit of new south wales--the establishment of missions in new zealand--friendship with dr. mason good. mr. marsden returned home in his majesty's ship buffalo, after an absence of fourteen years. on the voyage he had one of those hair-breadth deliverances in which devout christians recognise the hand of god. the buffalo was leaky when she sailed, and a heavy gale threatening, it was proposed that the passengers should quit the ship and take refuge in a stauncher vessel which formed one of the fleet. mr. marsden objected, mrs. marsden being unwilling to leave mrs. king, the wife of governor king, who was returning in the same vessel, and who was at the time an invalid. in the night, the expected storm came on. in the morning, the eyes of all on board the crazy buffalo were strained in vain to discover their companion. she was never heard of more, and no doubt had foundered in the hurricane. on his arrival in london he waited on the under secretary of state to report his return, and learned from him that his worst fears had been realized, and that the colony was already in a state of open insurrection, headed by the "new south wales corps," who were leagued with several of the wealthier traders. the insurrection was, however, suppressed, and lieut.-colonel macquarie was sent out with his regiment to assume the government. lord castlereagh, the colonial minister, was quick to perceive the value of such an adviser on the affairs of australia as mr. marsden, and encouraged him to lay before the government a full statement of his views. seldom has it happened to a private individual to be charged with weightier or more various affairs, never perhaps with schemes involving more magnificent results. as the obscure chaplain from botany bay paced the strand, from the colonial office at whitehall to the chambers in the city where a few pious men were laying plans for christian missions in the southern hemisphere, he was in fact charged with projects upon which not only the civilization, but the eternal welfare, of future nations were suspended. nor was he unconscious of the greatness of the task. with a total absence of romance or enthusiasm--for his mind was wanting in the imaginative faculty on which enthusiasm feeds--he was yet fully alive to the possible consequences of his visit to his native shores, and intensely interested in his work. he aimed at nothing less than to see australia a great country; and, with a yet firmer faith, he expected the conversion of the cannibal tribes of new zealand and the society islands; and this at a time when even statesmen had only learned to think of new south wales as a national prison, and when the conversion of new zealanders was regarded as a hopeless task, even by the majority of christian men, and treated by the world with indifference or scorn. in fact, during this short visit he may be said to have planned, perhaps unconsciously, the labours of his whole life, and to have laid the foundation for all the good of which he was to be the instrument. let us first turn to the efforts he made for the settlements in new south wales. the improvement of the convict population was his primary object, and his more immediate duty. he had observed that by far the greater number of reformed criminals consisted of those who had intermarried, or whose wives had been able to purchase their passage over, and he suggested that those of the convicts' wives who chose to do so should be permitted to accompany their husbands even at the public expense. this was refused, and it was almost the only point upon which his representations failed; but, as a compromise, the wives of the officers and soldiers were permitted to accompany their husbands, and not less than three hundred immediately went with a single regiment. to encourage honesty and industry he recommended not only remission of the sentence to the well conducted convict, but a grant of land to a certain extent; with which the government complied. but he had no weak and foolish sympathy with crime, and long after the period at which we are now writing, he continued to incur the hatred of a certain class by protesting, as he never ceased to do, against the monstrous impropriety of placing men, however wealthy, who had themselves been convicts, on the magisterial bench. amongst the convicts he had observed that the greater number were acquainted with some branch of mechanics or manufactures; at present, they were unemployed, or occupied in labour for which they were unfit, and which was therefore irksome to themselves and of no advantage to the colony. he therefore suggested that one or two practical mechanics with small salaries, and one or two general manufacturers, should be sent out to instruct the convicts. but here a serious obstacle presented itself; for this was the age of commercial prohibitions, and it was objected that the manufacturers of the mother country would be injured by such a step. mr. marsden met the objection at once. if the government would but accede to the proposal, "he would undertake that the enormous expense at which the country was for clothing the convicts should entirely cease within a certain period." the wool of the government flocks and the flesh of the wild cattle was already sufficient to provide both food and raiment for the convicts without any expense to the parent state, and all he prayed for was, the opportunity of turning those advantages to the best account. these requests were granted, and on the same night, and at his own cost, he set off by the mail for warwickshire and yorkshire in search of four artisans and manufacturers, who were soon upon their way to the scene of their future operations. the vast importance of australia as the source on which the english manufacturer must at some future day depend for his supplies of wool, had already occupied his thoughts. he found that within three years his own stock without any care on his part, (for his farm was entirely managed in his absence by a trusty bailiff who had been a convict,) had upon an average been doubled in number and value. with the energy which was natural to him, he carried some of his own wool to leeds, where he had it manufactured, and he had the satisfaction to learn that it was considered equal, if not superior, to that of saxony or france. his private letters abound with intimations that ere long australia must become the great wool-producing country to which the english manufacturer would look. he was introduced to king george the third, and took the liberty, through sir joseph banks, of praying for a couple of merino sheep, his majesty's property, to improve the breed; and his last letter from england, dated from the cowes roads, mentions their reception on board. we anticipate a little, but must quote the letter, were it only to let the reader see how possible it is to be at once diligent in business and fervent in spirit. "we are this moment getting under weigh, and soon expect to be upon the ocean. i have received a present of five spanish sheep from the king's flock, which are all on board; if i am so fortunate as to get them out they will be a most valuable acquisition to the colony. i leave england with much satisfaction, having obtained so fully the object of my mission. it is the good hand of our god that hath done these things for us. i have the prospect of getting another pious minister. i am writing to him on the subject this morning, and i hope he will soon follow us.... on sunday i stood on the long boat and preached from ezekiel xviii. : 'when the wicked man turneth away,' etc. it was a solemn time, many of the convicts were affected. we sang the hundredth psalm in the midst of a large fleet. the number of souls on board is more than four hundred. god may be gracious to some of them; though exiled from their country and friends, they may cry unto him in a foreign land, when they come like the jews of old to hang their harps upon the willows, and weep when they remember zion, or rather when they remember england."[f] [f] to avison terry, esq., hull. the spiritual wants of the colony were not forgotten. he induced the government to send out three additional clergymen and three schoolmasters; and happily the selection was intrusted to his own judgment. a disciple in the school of venn and milner, he knew that the ordinances of the church, though administered by a moral and virtuous man, or by a zealous philanthropist, were not enough. he sought for men who were "renewed in the spirit of their minds;" who uttered no mere words of course when they said at their ordination that they "believed themselves moved thereto by the holy ghost." but here again his task was difficult; clergymen of such a stamp were but few; the spirit of missionary enterprise was almost unfelt; and, to say the truth, there was a missionary field at home, dark and barbarous, and far too wide for the few such labourers of this class whom the lord had yet "sent forth into his harvest." mr. marsden, however, nothing daunted, went from parish to parish till he met with two admirable men, the rev. mr. cowper and the rev. robert cartwright, who, with their families, accompanied him on his return. his choice was eminently successful. in a short account of mr. marsden, published in australia in , they are spoken of as still living, pious and exemplary clergymen, the fathers of families occupying some of the most important posts in the colony, and, "notwithstanding their advancing years and increasing infirmities," it is added, "there are few young men in the colony so zealous in preaching the gospel, and in promoting the interests of the church of england." the schoolmasters too, we believe, did honour to his choice. he had already established two public free-schools for children of both sexes, and he was now able to impart the elements of a pious education, and to train them in habits of industry and virtue. into all these plans the archbishop of canterbury cordially entered, and wisely and liberally left it to the able founder to select his agents and associates. mr. marsden likewise urged upon the home administration the necessity of a female penitentiary; and obtained a promise that a building should be provided. that he was deeply alive to the importance of an institution of this kind, is manifest in his own description of the state of the female prisoners in the earlier years of the colony, and the deplorable picture he draws of their immorality and wretchedness. "when i returned to england in ," he says, "there were upwards of fourteen hundred women in the colony; more than one thousand were unmarried, and nearly all convicts: many of them were exposed to the most dangerous temptations, privations and sufferings; and no suitable asylum had been provided for the female convicts since the establishment of the colony. on my arrival in london in , i drew up two memorials on their behalf, stating how much they suffered from want of a proper barrack--a building for their reception. one of these memorials i presented to the under secretary of state, and the other to his grace the archbishop of canterbury. they both expressed their readiness to promote the object." years, however, passed before the consent of the colonial governor could be gained; and mr. marsden's benevolent exertions on behalf of these outcast women were for some time frustrated. the variety of his engagements at this time was equal to their importance. he had returned home charged with an almost infinite multiplicity of business. he was the agent of almost every poor person in the colony who had, or thought he had, important business at home. penny-postages lay in the same dim future with electric telegraphs and steam-frigates, and he was often burdened with letters from ireland and other remote parts (so wrote a friend, who published at the time a sketch of his proceedings in the "eclectic review,") the postage of which, for a single day, has amounted to a guinea; which he cheerfully paid, from the feeling that, although many of these letters were of no use whatever, they were written with a good intention, and under a belief that they were of real value. he had already been saluted, like the roman generals of old, with the title of common father of his adopted country; and one of his last acts before he quitted england, was to procure, by public contributions and donations of books, "what he called a lending library" (so writes the reviewer,[g] and the expression seems to have amused him from its novelty), "consisting of books on religion, morals, mechanics, agriculture, and general history, to be lent out under his own control and that of his colleagues, to soldiers, free settlers, convicts, and others who had time to read." in this, too, he succeeded, and took over with him a library of the value of between three and four hundred pounds. [g] eclectic review, vol. v. pp. - . it was during this two-years'-visit to his native land, that mr. marsden laid the foundation of the church of england mission to new zealand. in its consequences, civil and religious, this has already proved one of the most extraordinary and most successful of those achievements, which are the glory of the churches in these later times. this was the great enterprise of his life: he is known already, and will be remembered while the church on earth endures, as the apostle of new zealand. not that we claim for him the exclusive honour of being the only one although we believe he was, in point of time, the first who began, about this period, to project a mission to new zealand. the wesleyans were early in the same field. the rev. samuel leigh, a man whose history and natural character bore a marked resemblance to those of mr. marsden, was the pioneer of methodism, and proved himself a worthy herald of the cross amongst the new zealanders. a warm friendship existed between the two. on his passage homewards he was a guest at paramatta; and no tinge of jealousy ever appears to have shaded their intercourse, each rejoicing in the triumphs of the other. still, mr. marsden's position afforded him peculiar facilities, and having once undertaken it, the superintendence of the new zealand mission became, without design on his part, the great business of his life. he had formed a high, we do not think an exaggerated, estimate of the maori or new zealand tribes. "they are a noble race," he writes to his friend john terry, esq., of hull, "vastly superior in understanding to anything you can imagine in a savage nation." this was before the mission was begun. but he did not speak merely from hearsay: several of their chieftains and enterprising warriors had visited australia, and they ever found a welcome at the hospitable parsonage at paramatta. sometimes, it is true, they were but awkward guests, as the following anecdote will show; which we present to the reader, as it has been kindly furnished to us, in the words of one of mr. marsden's daughters. "my father had sometimes as many as thirty new zealanders staying at the parsonage. he possessed extraordinary influence over them. on one occasion, a young lad, the nephew of a chief, died, and his uncle immediately made preparations to sacrifice a slave to attend his spirit into the other world. mr. m. was from home at the moment, and his family were only able to preserve the life of the young new zealander by hiding him in one of the rooms. mr. m. no sooner returned and reasoned with the chief, than he consented to spare his life. no further attempt was made upon it, though the uncle frequently deplored that his nephew had no attendant in the next world, and seemed afraid to return to new zealand, lest the father of the young man should reproach him for having given up this, to them, important point." the church missionary society, which had now been established about seven years, seemed fully disposed to co-operate with him; and at their request he drew up a memorial on the subject of a new zealand mission, not less important than that we have already mentioned, to the london missionary society, on the subject of their polynesian missions. he still lays great stress upon the necessity of civilization going first as the pioneer of the gospel; "commerce and the arts having a natural tendency to inculcate industrious and moral habits, open a way for the introduction of the gospel, and lay the foundation for its continuance when once received" "... nothing, in my opinion, can pave the way for the introduction of the gospel but civilization." ... "the missionaries," he thought, "might employ a certain portion of their time in manual labour, and that this neither would nor ought to prevent them from constantly endeavouring to instruct the natives in the great doctrines of the gospel." ... "the arts and religion should go together. i do not mean a native should learn to build a hut or make an axe before he should be told anything of man's fall and redemption, but that these grand subjects should be introduced at every favourable opportunity, while the natives are learning any of the simple arts." he adds that "four qualifications are absolutely necessary for a missionary--piety, industry, prudence, and patience. without sound piety, nothing can be expected. a man must feel a lively interest in the eternal welfare of the heathen to spur him on to the discharge of his duty." on the three other qualifications, he enlarges with great wisdom and practical good sense; but the paper has been frequently printed, and we must not transfer it to these pages. it is no dishonour done to mr. marsden if we say that, in mature spiritual wisdom, the venerable men who had founded the church missionary society, and still managed its affairs, were at this time his superiors. strange indeed it would have been had the case been otherwise. they listened gratefully and with deep respect to the opinion of one so well entitled to advise; they determined on the mission, and they gave a high proof of their confidence, both in the practical wisdom and sterling piety of their friend, in consulting him in the choice of their first agents. but they did not adopt his views with regard to the importance of civilization as the necessary pioneer to the gospel. so long ago as the year , they thought it necessary to publish a statement of the principles upon which their mission was established. "it has been stated," they say, "that the mission was originally established, and for a long time systematically conducted, on the principle of first civilizing and then christianizing the natives. this is wholly a mistake. the agents employed in establishing the mission were laymen, because clergymen could not be had; and the instructions given to them necessarily correspond with their lay character. the foremost object of the mission has, from the first, been to bring the natives, by the use of all suitable means, under the saving influences of the grace of the gospel, adding indeed the communication to them of such useful arts and knowledge as might improve their social condition." the committee's instructions to their first agents in the mission abundantly sustain these assertions. mr. william hall and mr. john king were the two single-hearted laymen to whom, in the providence of god, the distinguished honour was committed of first making known the gospel in new zealand. they bore with them these instructions, ere they embarked in the same vessel in which their friend and guide mr. marsden himself returned to australia:--"ever bear in mind that the only object of the society, in sending you to new zealand, is to introduce the knowledge of christ among the natives, and in order to this, the arts of civilized life." then after directing messrs. hall and king "to respect the sabbath day," to "establish family worship," at any favourable opportunity to "converse with the natives on the great subject of religion," and to "instruct their children in the knowledge of christianity," the instructions add--"thus in your religious conduct you must observe the sabbath and keep it holy, attend regularly to family worship, talk to the natives about religion when you walk by the way, when you labour in the field, and on all occasions when you can gain their attention, and lay yourselves out for the education of the young." mr. thomas kendall followed; a third layman, for no ordained clergyman of the church of england could yet be found. the same instructions were repeated, and in december, , when the rev. john butler, their first clerical missionary, entered on his labours in new zealand, he and his companions were exhorted thus--"the committee would observe that they wish, in all the missions of the society, that the missionaries should give their time as much as possible, and wholly if practicable, first to the acquisition of the native language, and then to the constant and faithful preaching to the natives." it is subsequently added--"do not mistake civilization for conversion. do not imagine when heathens are raised in intellect, in the knowledge of the arts and outward decencies, above their fellow-countrymen, that they are christians, and therefore rest content as if your proper work were accomplished. our great aim is far higher; it is to make them children of god and heirs of his glory. let this be your desire, and prayer, and labour among them. and while you rejoice in communicating every other good, think little or nothing done till you see those who were dead in trespasses and sins, quickened together with christ." these passages fully exhibit the views of the committee of this evangelical society with regard, not only to the new zealand, but to all their other missions. nor do they stand alone; every missionary association, taught in many instances by bitter disappointment, has long since discovered that the arts and sciences do not prepare the way of the lord amongst the heathen abroad; just as they leave unsanctified our civilized heathendom at home. but we must return from our digression, which its great importance must excuse. before he left england, mr. marsden formed or renewed an acquaintance with many great and good men, mr. wilberforce, sir george grey, the rev. daniel wilson, late bishop of calcutta, the rev. charles simeon, the rev. josiah pratt, dr. olinthus gregory, and others whose names are dear to the church of christ. but we must particularly notice the friendship which he formed with dr. mason good as productive of the highest blessings to his friend, and of much advantage to himself. the life of this excellent and accomplished person was published by dr. olinthus gregory, soon after his death, in . he tells us that dr. mason good, when he became acquainted with mr. marsden, had long professed socinian principles, but of these had recently begun to doubt, while he had not yet embraced the gospel of christ so as to derive either comfort or strength from it. he was anxious and inquiring; his father had been an orthodox dissenting minister, and he himself a constant student and indeed a critical expositor of the bible. he had published a translation of the book of job, with notes, and also a translation of solomon's song of songs. he saw in the latter a sublime and mystic allegory, and in the former a poem, than which nothing can be purer in its morality, nothing sublimer in its philosophy, nothing more majestic in its creed. he had given beautiful translations of many of the psalms; but with all this he had not yet perceived that christ is the great theme of the old testament, nor did he understand the salvation of which "david in the psalms, and all the prophets," as well as job the patriarch "did speak." his introduction to mr. marsden, in such a state of mind, was surely providential. he saw, and wondered at, his self-denial; he admired the true sublimity of his humble, unassuming, but unquestionable and active piety. "the first time i saw mr. marsden," says his biographer, "was in january, ; he had just returned from hull, and had travelled nearly the whole journey on the outside of a coach in a heavy fall of snow, being unable to secure an inside place. he seemed scarcely conscious of the inclemency of the season, and declared that he felt no inconvenience from the journey. he had accomplished his object, and that was enough. and what was that object, which could raise him above the exhaustion of fatigue and the sense of severe cold? he had engaged a rope-maker who was willing, at his (mr. marsden's) own expense, to go and teach his art to the new zealanders." so writes dr. olinthus gregory. as a philosopher who loved to trace phenomena to their causes, dr. mason good endeavoured to ascertain the principles from which these unremitting exertions sprang; and, as he often assured his friend, dr. gregory, he could trace them only to the elevating influence of divine grace. he could find no other clue; and he often repeated the wish that his own motives were as pure, and his own conduct as exemplary as those of mr. marsden. thus light broke in, and at length he received the gospel "as a little child," and began to adorn it by his conduct. for several years he was an efficient member of the committee of the bible society, and of that of the church missionary society. to the latter especially he devoted himself with the utmost activity and ardour, and at his death, which occurred in , the committee transmitted to mrs. good a resolution expressive of the very high value they set on his services, and of the heavy loss they were conscious they sustained by that event. the resolution was accompanied by a letter of cordial sympathy from the pen of the rev. edward bickersteth, the secretary. when dying he was, heard, without any suggestion or leading remark from those around him, to repeat with quivering lips the text, "all the promises of god in him (christ jesus) are yea, and in him amen." "what words," said he, "for a dying man to rest upon!"[h] [h] see life of dr. mason good, by dr. olinthus gregory. chapter v. return to the colony--duaterra--his strange adventures--mr. marsden's labours in new south wales--aborigines--their habits--plans for their civilization. mr. marsden took what proved to be his last leave of his native land in august . resolute as he was, and nerved for danger, a shade of depression passed across him. "the ship, i understand," he writes to mrs. mason good, "is nearly ready. this land in which we live is polluted, and cannot, on account of sin, give rest to any of its inhabitants. those who have (sought) and still do seek their happiness in anything it can give, will meet nothing but disappointment, vexation, and sorrow. if we have only a common share of human happiness, we cannot have or hope for more." a few weeks afterwards he addresses the same christian lady thus:-- "cambridge, august , . "yesterday i assisted my much esteemed friend, mr. simeon, but here i shall have no continuing city. the signal will soon be given, the anchor weighed, and the sails spread, and the ship compelled to enter the mighty ocean to seek for distant lands. i was determined to take another peep at cambridge, though conscious i could but enjoy those beautiful scenes for a moment. in a few days we shall set off for portsmouth. all this turning and wheeling about from place, to place, and from nation to nation, i trust is our right way to the heavenly canaan. i am happy in the conclusion, to inform you that i have got all my business settled in london much to my satisfaction, both with government and in other respects. the object of my mission has been answered, far beyond my expectations. i believe that god has gracious designs towards new south wales, and that his gospel will take root there, and spread amongst the heathen nations to the glory of his grace. "i have the honour to be, dear madam, "yours, in every christian bond, "samuel marsden." his prayers and devout aspirations for new zealand had been heard on high, and "the way of the lord" was "preparing" in a manner far beyond his expectations, ardent as they seem. the ship ann, in which he sailed, by order of the government, for new south wales, carried with her one whom providence had raised up to act a part, only less important than his own, in the conversion of that benighted land. the ship had been some time at sea before mr. marsden observed on the forecastle, amongst the common sailors, a man whose darker skin and wretched appearance awakened his sympathy. he was wrapped in an old great coat, very sick and weak, had a violent cough, accompanied with profuse bleeding. he was much dejected, and appeared as though a few days would close his life. this was duaterra, a new zealand chieftain, whose story, as related by mr. marsden himself, is almost too strange for fiction. and as "this young chief became," as he tells us, "one of the principal instruments in preparing the way for the introduction of the arts of civilization and the knowledge of christianity into his native country," a brief sketch of his marvellous adventures will not be out of place. when the existence of new zealand was yet scarcely known to europeans, it was occasionally visited by a south sea whaler distressed for provisions, or in want of water. one of these, the argo, put into the bay of islands in , and duaterra, fired with the spirit of adventure, embarked on board with two of his companions. the argo remained on the new zealand coast for above five months, and then sailed for port jackson, the modern sydney of australia, duaterra sailing with her. she then went to fish on the coast of new holland for six months, again returning to port jackson. duaterra had been six months on board, working in general as a common sailor, and passionately fond of this roving life. he then experienced that unkindness and foul play of which the new zealander has always had sad reason to complain. he was left on shore without a friend and without the slightest remuneration. he now shipped himself on board the albion whaler, captain richardson, whose name deserves honourable mention; he behaved very kindly to duaterra, repaid him for his services in various european articles, and after six months cruising on the fisheries, put him on shore in the bay of islands, where his tribe dwelt. here he remained six months, when the santa anna anchored in the bay, on her way to norfolk island and other islets of the south sea in quest of seal skins. the restless duaterra again embarked; he was put on shore on norfolk island at the head of a party of fourteen sailors, provided with a very scanty supply of water, bread, and salt provisions, to kill seals, while the ship sailed, intending to be absent but a short time, to procure potatoes and pork in new zealand. on her return she was blown off the coast in a storm, and did not make the land for a month. the sealing party were now in the greatest distress, and accustomed as he was to hardship, duaterra often spoke of the extreme suffering which he and his party had endured, while, for upwards of three months, they existed on a desert island with no other food than seals and sea fowls, and no water except when a shower of rain happened to fall. three of his companions, two europeans and one tahitian, died under these distresses. at length the santa anna returned, having procured a valuable cargo of seal skins, and prepared to take her departure homewards. duaterra had now an opportunity of gratifying an ardent desire he had for some time entertained of visiting that remote country from which so many vast ships were sent, and to see with his own eyes the great chief of so wonderful a people. he willingly risked the voyage, as a common sailor, to visit england and see king george. the santa anna arrived in the river thames about july , and duaterra now requested that the captain would make good his promise, and indulge him with at least a sight of the king. again he had a sad proof of the perfidiousness of europeans. sometimes he was told that no one was allowed to see king george; sometimes that his house could not be found. this distressed him exceedingly; he saw little of london, was ill-used, and seldom permitted to go on shore. in about fifteen days, the vessel had discharged her cargo, when the captain told him that he should put him on board the ann, which had been taken up by government to convey convicts to new south wales. the ann had already dropped down to gravesend, and duaterra asked the master of the santa anna for some wages and clothing. he refused to give him any, telling him that the owners at port jackson would pay him in two muskets for his services on his arrival there; but even these he never received. mr. marsden was at this time in london, quite ignorant of the fact that the son of a new zealand chief, in circumstances so pitiable, lay on board a south sea whaler near london bridge. their first meeting was on board the ann, as we have stated, when she had been some days at sea. his sympathies were at once roused, and his indignation too; for it was always ill for the oppressor when he fell within the power of his stern rebuke. "i inquired," he says, "of the master where he met with him, and also of duaterra what had brought him to england, and how he came to be so wretched and miserable. he told me that the hardships and wrongs which he had endured on board the santa anna were exceedingly great, and that the english sailors had beaten him very much, which was the cause of his spitting blood, and that the master had defrauded him of all his wages, and prevented his seeing the king. i should have been very happy, if there had been time, to call the master of the santa anna to account for his conduct, but it was too late. i endeavoured to soothe his afflictions, and assured him that he should be protected from insults, and that his wants should be supplied." by the kindness of those on board, duaterra recovered, and was ever after truly grateful for the attention shown him. on their arrival at sydney, mr. marsden took him into his house for six months, during which time he applied himself to agriculture; he then wished to return home, and embarked for new zealand; but further perils and adventures were in prospect, and we shall have occasion to advert to them hereafter. for the present we leave him on his voyage to his island home. the ann touched on her passage out at rio janeiro, and mr. marsden spent a short time on shore, where his active mind, already, one would suppose, burthened with cares and projects, discovered a new field of labour. the ignorance and superstition of a popish city stirred his spirit, like that of paul at athens. he wrote home to entreat the church missionary society, if possible, to send them teachers; but this lay not within their province. from a letter of sir george grey's, addressed to himself, it appears that he had interested some members of the english government upon the subject, and that while at rio he had been active in distributing the scriptures. but he was now to resume his labours in australia, where he arrived in safety, fondly calculating upon a long season of peaceful toil in his heavenly master's service. his mind was occupied with various projects, both for the good of the colony and of the heathen round about. his own letters, simply and hastily thrown off in all the confidence of friendship, will show how eagerly he plunged, and with what a total absence of selfish considerations, into the work before him: "to john terry, esq. "paramatta, october , . "dear sir.--i received your kind and affectionate letter, also a bottle of wheat, with the hull papers, from your brother; for all of which i feel much indebted. we had a very fine passage, and i found my affairs much better than i had any reason to expect. the revolution had caused much distress to many families, and the settlement has been thrown much back by this event. my wishes for the general welfare of the colony have been more successful than i expected they would be. the rising generation are now under education in almost all parts of the country. the catholic priests have all left us, so that we have now the whole field to ourselves. i trust much good will be done; some amongst us are turning to the lord. our churches are well attended, which is promising and encouraging to us. my colleagues are men of piety and four of the schoolmasters. this will become a great country in time, it is much favoured in its soil and climate. i am very anxious for the instruction of the new zealanders; they are a noble race, vastly superior in understanding to anything you can imagine a savage nation could attain. mr. hall, who was in hull, and came out with us with an intention to proceed to new zealand as a missionary, has not yet proceeded, in consequence of a melancholy difference between the natives of that island and the crew of a ship called the 'boyd.' the ship was burnt, and all the crew murdered; our people, it appears, were the first aggressors, and dearly paid for their conduct towards the natives by the loss of their lives and ship. i do not think that this awful event will prevent the establishment of a mission at new zealand. time must be allowed for the difference to be made up, and for confidence to be restored. i wrote a letter to mr. hardcastle, and another to rev. j. pratt, secretary to the society for missions to africa and the east, and have pointed out to them the necessity of having a ship constantly employed in visiting the islands in the south seas, for the convenience, safety, and protection of the missionaries, either at otaheite and new zealand, or at any other island upon which they may reside.... "your's respectfully, "(signed) samuel marsden." great projects are not to be accomplished without many disappointments. the first attempt is seldom the successful one. in spiritual things, this may be regarded as the established rule, or law, in accordance to which the head of the church controls while he purifies his servants' zeal. they are made to feel their weakness. where they expect honour they meet with opposition, perhaps with scorn. their favourite plans are those which bring, for a time, the least success and the greatest anxiety. thus they are taught the great lesson of their own weakness, and the only less important one of the insignificance of others in whom they trusted. and thus, too, in the painful but salutary school of adversity, they learn that the highest wisdom is, after all, simply to accept the cross of christ, and to cast themselves on the unerring guidance of the holy spirit; and, in a word, "to cease from man." the new governor, general macquarie, had arrived out a few months before mr. marsden. he was an able commander, and had the good of the colony much at heart; and he had a task of no little difficulty to perform, in reducing what was still a penal colony, just recovering from a state of insurrection, into order and obedience. his powers were great; he considered them absolute. mr. marsden, too, was justly tenacious of public morality and virtue, and still more so of the spiritual independence of the ministerial character. it seems that the rights of the governor on the one side, and those of the ministers of religion on the other, had not been accurately defined by the government at home, and thus a collision between two minds so firm and so resolute as those of the governor and mr. marsden, was inevitable. occasions of difference soon arose; the governor anxious, we doubt not, to raise their character and elevate their position, with a view to the future welfare of the colony, placed several of the convicts on the magisterial bench, treated them with respect, and even invited them to his table. with these men, mr. marsden refused, as a magistrate, to act, or to meet them in society on equal terms. some of them were notoriously persons of a bad and vicious life; while none of them, he thought, could, without gross impropriety, punish others judicially for the infraction of that law which they themselves had broken. he would gladly have resigned his magisterial office, but the governor knew the worth of his services, and refused to accept his resignation, which was repeatedly tendered. the new magistrates were of course offended, and became his bitter foes; and some of them harassed him for twenty years with slanders and libellous insults, until at length an appeal to the laws of his country vindicated his reputation and silenced his opponents. differences of opinion may exist as to the wisdom of governor macquarie's conduct in these civil affairs, and many will perhaps justify his proceedings; but every right-minded man will condemn without hesitation the attempts which he made to lord it over the consciences of the established clergy and other christian ministers in the colony, in the discharge of their purely ministerial work. he wished to dictate even to the pulpit. mr. marsden relates that he once sent for him to the government-house, and commanded him to produce the manuscript of a sermon which he had preached nearly a year before: he did so; when the governor severely commented upon it, and returned it with the remark that one sentence, which it is more than probable he did not understand, was "almost downright blasphemy." the junior clergy were of course still more exposed to the same despotic interference. the governor wished to prescribe the hymns they should sing, as well as the doctrines they should teach; and he repeatedly insisted on their giving out, during divine service, secular notices of so improper a character, that the military officers in attendance expressed their disgust. happy it was for the colony of new south wales that he met with an opponent firm and fearless, and at the same time sound in the faith, such as the senior chaplain. on him menaces and flattery were lost. the governor, at one time, even threatened him with a court-martial; nor was the threat altogether an empty one, for he actually brought one of the junior chaplains, mr. vale, before a court-martial, and had him dismissed the colony. these are painful facts, and such as, at this distance of time, we should gladly pass over in silence; but, in that case, what could the reader know of the trials through which mr. marsden passed? yet amidst all these distractions his letters testify that he possessed his soul in peace, and that "no root of bitterness, troubled" him. he speaks with respect of the governor, gives him credit for good intentions, and acknowledges the many benefits he conferred upon the colony; and when at length he was on the eve of returning home, governor macquarie himself bore testimony to the piety, integrity, and invaluable services of the only man who had dared patiently yet firmly to contend with him during a long course of years. the records of ministerial life offer little variety, but to pious minds they are not without interest. mr. marsden rose early, generally at four o'clock during the summer; and the morning hours were spent in his study. to a christian minister a few hours of retirement in the morning are indispensable, or the mind is distracted and the day is lost. very early rising is a question of health and constitution as well as of conscience, and we lay no burden upon those who cannot practise it. to those who can, the habit is invaluable. three friends of mr. marsden present us with different examples in this matter. simeon's twenty volumes of horæ homilicæ, or outlines of sermons, were all written between five and eight o'clock in the morning. thomas scott, the commentator, seldom had more than three hours a-day in his study and those three were early ones. wilberforce on the other hand laments that he could do nothing till he had had his "full dose of sleep." those who cannot rise early may still make the day long by turning to account the fragments of time and vacant half-hours which are so recklessly permitted by most men, especially strong men, to run to waste. in the early days of the colony, mr. marsden used to officiate in the morning at st. philip's, sydney. roads were bad and conveyances scarce, and he often walked a distance of fifteen miles to paramatta, where he conducted another service and preached again. his preaching is described as very plain, full of good sense and manly thought, and treating chiefly of the great foundation truths of the gospel. man a lost sinner and needing conversion, christ an almighty saviour pardoning sin, the holy ghost an all-sufficient sanctifier, guide, and comforter, carrying on the work of grace within the soul. those who came to hear a great preacher went away disappointed; those who came to pass a listless hour were sometimes grievously disturbed. the authenticity of the following anecdote has been assured to us by mr. marsden's surviving friends. he was one day walking by the banks of the river, when a convict as he passed plunged into the water. mr. marsden threw off his coat, and in an instant plunged in after him and endeavoured to bring the man to land. he contrived however to get mr. marsden's head under the water, and a desperate struggle for life ensued between them; till mr. marsden, being the stronger of the two, not only succeeded in getting safe to shore but in dragging the man with him. the poor fellow, struck with remorse, confessed his intention. he had resolved to have his revenge on the senior chaplain, whose offence was that he had preached a sermon which had stung him to the quick; and he believed, as a sinner exasperated by the reflection of his own vices does frequently believe, that the preacher had meant to hold him up to the scorn of the congregation. he knew too that the sight of a drowning fellow-creature would draw out the instant help of one who never knew what fear was in the discharge of duty; and he threw himself into the stream confident of drowning mr. marsden, and then of making good his own escape. he became very penitent, was a useful member of society, and greatly attached to his deliverer, who afterwards took him into his own service, where he remained for some years. we cannot give a more painful illustration of the malignity with which he was pursued, than to state that the current version of this story in the colony was, that the convict had been unjustly punished by mr. marsden as a magistrate, and took this method of revenge. he made the most, too, of his opportunities. at a time when there were very few churches or clergymen, and the settlers were widely scattered over large tracts, he frequently made an itinerating ministerial visit amongst them. he was everywhere received with the greatest cordiality and respect. on arriving at a farm, a man on horseback was immediately dispatched to all the neighbours within ten or twelve miles to collect them for public worship. the settlers gladly availed themselves of these opportunities, and assembled, in numbers varying from sixty to eighty, when divine service was conducted in a vacant barn or under the shade of a verandah. the next day, he proceeded twenty or twenty-five miles further on in the wilds, and again collected a congregation. these tours would often extend over ten days or a fortnight, and were repeated as his more settled duties permitted. thus his name became a household word, pronounced with love and gratitude far beyond the limits of his parish, or even of the colony; and probably he found some of his most willing hearers amongst those to whom he thus carried in their solitude the glad tidings of a salvation which when offered to them week by week at home they had neglected or despised. yet his duties as principal chaplain were not neglected. from a general government order, dated september, , it appears that amongst them were those of an overseer, or chief pastor of the church. "the assistant chaplains are directed to consider themselves at all times under the immediate control and superintendence of the principal chaplain, and are to make such occasional reports to him respecting their clerical duties as he may think proper to require or call for." a high tribute to his worth under the circumstances in which he was placed by his opposition to the governor. the chaplains frequently sought his protection against arbitrary power, and he willingly fought their battles and his own in defence of liberty of conscience and the right of conducting god's worship undisturbed. his connexion with his clerical brethren seems to have been uniformly happy, and the same remark is true of the missionaries of various denominations, not a few in number, who, during a period of twenty years, were virtually under his control. he had undoubtedly the rare power of governing others in a very high degree, and it was done noiselessly and with a gentle hand; for the men who govern well seldom obtrude their authority in an offensive manner, or worry those they should control with a petty interference. he had the same kind of influence, and probably from the same cause, over the very horses in his carriage. he used, in driving from sydney to paramatta, to throw the reins behind the dash-board, take up his book, and leave them to themselves, his maxim being "that the horse that could not keep itself up was not worth driving." one of the pair was almost unmanageable in other hands, but it was remarked that "captain" always conducted himself well when his master drove, and never had an accident. amongst his strictly pastoral cares, two schools for orphans had a foremost place. a female orphan school was first proposed, and mr. marsden undertook the direction of the work, and became treasurer to the institution. from its formation in to the year , two hundred children were admitted. it may be a question whether the children of living parents, however ignorant or even dissolute they may be, should be totally withdrawn from parental sympathies. the presence of a child may restrain, and its artless remonstrances are often known to touch, a vicious father or mother whom no other influence can reach; and dr. guthrie's recent experiment in edinburgh seems to show us that the best method of christianizing both child and parent is to instruct the former well by day, and to send him home at night a little missionary to his parents, where other teaching would be scorned. but in the case of orphans no such questions occur, and we must look upon an orphan school with unmixed satisfaction. a male orphan school followed in due course, in which the boys were instructed in some trade and then apprenticed. in both schools the moral and religious training was the chief consideration; yet mr. marsden's connexion with them was attributed by his enemies to a sordid motive, and even those in power, who should have known him better, gave public currency to these injurious reports. the fact was that when the institutions were founded the treasurer was allowed a small per centage upon the receipts, as a clerical fee or stipend; this he allowed to accumulate until he resigned the office, when he presented the whole sum to the institution. the committee absolutely refusing to accept it, he purchased cattle from the government to the full amount, and made a present of them to the orphan schools. soon after his return from england it became necessary to erect new schools. the work was long and tedious, and owing to the want of labour in the colony, and the idle and drunken habits of the labourers, nearly ten years elapsed before they were completed, and the work too was often at a stand for want of funds. these, however, mr. marsden--whom no pecuniary obstacles could daunt--supplied, in a great measure, out of his own purse, till his advances amounted to nearly _l._; and his disinterested conduct in the end occasioned him very considerable loss. to the latest period he never ceased to take the warmest interest in the prosperity of these institutions. "i am sure," says his daughter, "my father's parish was not neglected. he was well known to all his parishioners, as he was in the habit of constantly calling upon them. he was very attentive to the sick, whether at their own homes or at the government hospital. he also took great interest in the education of the young. it was through his instrumentality that many schools were established. his sunday school, at the time of which i speak, was in a more efficient state than any i have since seen; but this my brother-in-law, the rev. t. hassell, had a great deal to do with, as he was then acting as my father's curate. the factory for the reception of female convicts was built entirely by his suggestion, and to their religious and moral improvement he devoted a good deal of his time. it was principally owing to his endeavours to get this and other institutions in good order that much of his discomfort with his fellow-magistrates and government officers arose." the aborigines of australia were, even when the colony was first settled, comparatively few in number; and in painful conformity with universal experience, they have wasted away before the white man, and will probably disappear in time from the face of the earth. if the new zealander stands highest in the scale of savage nature, the native australian occupies perhaps the lowest place. so low, indeed, was their intellect rated, that when the phrenological system of drs. gall and spurzheim began to occupy attention, some forty years ago, the skulls of several of them were sent over to england to be submitted to the manipulations of its professors, with a view of ascertaining whether the creator had not thrust into existence a whole race of idiots--men who had neither reason to guide them on the one hand, nor well-developed instinct on the other. they are supposed to be a mixture of the malay and negro races, but they have nothing of the muscular strength of the negro, nor of his mental pliancy, and both in body and mind are far below the pure malay. in the infancy of the colony they rambled into the town of port jackson in a state of nudity, and when blankets were presented to them they were thrown aside as an incumbrance. they seemed to have no wants beyond those which the dart or spear--never out of their hands--could instantly supply. their food was the opossum, but when this was not to be found they were by no means delicate; grubs, snakes, putrid whales, and even vermin were eagerly devoured, though fish and oysters were preferred. they are a nomad or wandering people, always moving from place to place in search of food, or from the mere love of change. during the winter, they erect a hut, resembling a beehive, of rude wicker-work besmeared with clay; but in general a mere hurdle, such as we use in england for penning sheep, placed to windward in the ground, is all their shelter; under this they lie with a fire kindled in the front of it. our english stragglers have made themselves well acquainted with their habits, frequently living amongst them for weeks together in the bush. these all agree in admiration of the skill with which they throw the dart, which seldom misses, even from a child's hand, to strike its prey. they are peaceable and inoffensive to strangers, and kind to their "gins," or wives, and to their children, unless their savage natures are aroused, when they become horribly brutal and vindictive. few savage tribes have been found whose ideas on religion are less distinct. they believe in a good spirit, _royan_, and a bad one, _potoyan_; but like all savages--like all men, we may say, either savage or civilized, who know not god--they dread the evil spirit far more than they love the good one. they offer no prayer, and have no worship or sacrifices. civil government is unknown; authority in the tribe depends on personal strength or cunning. a wandering life with abundance of provisions, amongst their native woods, shores, and mountains, is the sum of all the little happiness they know or seek. some efforts were made in the early period of the colony on their behalf. a district near port jackson was assigned them, and they were encouraged to reside in it; but it was very soon deserted. the roving habits of the aborigines made any settled residence irksome; and their wants were so few that they would neither engage in trade, nor submit to labour for the sake of wages. it retained the name of the black town for many years; but the black men have long since deserted it. governor macquarie, after consulting with mr. marsden, then attempted a farm, and, in connexion with it, a kind of reformatory school at paramatta, where they were to be civilized and cured of their migratory habits, and instructed in the christian religion. mr. marsden took a warm interest in the scheme, as he did in everything that concerned the welfare of the aborigines. still it failed; for it was founded, as experience has shown, upon wrong principles. mr. marsden, however, is not to be blamed for this; since governor macquarie, having now conceived a violent prejudice against him, omitted his name from the committee of management, although the institution was placed in his own parish, introducing those of two junior chaplains; and it was not till the governor's retirement that he took an active part in its affairs. but the character of the institution was then fixed, and its approaching failure was evident. two faults were interwoven with it, either of which must have proved fatal. in the first place, the attempt to confine a nomad, wandering tribe within the precincts of a farm, or to bring them to endure, except it had been by force, the discipline of lads in an english workhouse, was upon the very face of it absurd. these, we must remember, were the early days of english philanthropy amongst wild black men. she had yet to make her blunders and learn her first lessons. why should a nomad race be settled upon the workhouse plan, or even confined to an english farm? why should they not rather be encouraged to dwell in tents, carry civilization with them into their own woods and mountains, and, roam, free and fearless, over those vast regions which god had given them to possess, until at last they themselves shall wish to adopt the settled habits of european christians? a roving life in the wilderness is not of necessity an idle or a barbarous one. abraham, isaac, and jacob were highly civilized, and eminently devout. "arabians" and "dwellers in mesopotamia," wanderers of the desert, heard the word with gladness, and received the holy ghost upon the day of pentecost. but we do not read that they were required to live in cities, and abandon the long-cherished wilderness, with all its solemn associations and grand delights. and we have not so mean an opinion of christianity as to believe that it can thrive only in towns well paved and lighted, or in farms neatly fenced and artificially cultivated. the true missionary must track the wandering savage into the desert, and there make himself his guide and friend; and teach him that the gospel of jesus christ is indeed of god, inasmuch as it is fitted, as no human contrivance can be fitted, for man, whatever his outward circumstances or his mode of life; that it knows no difference between the dweller in the tent, and in "cities, tall and fenced up to heaven." "barbarian, scythian, bond or free," are all alike welcome to its blessings; and we can see no good reason why there should not be christian tribes in the wilderness, as there were patriarchal churches in the plains of the euphrates, long before the law was given on mount sinai. the other mistake was the same which has tainted other missions in their infancy, and to which we have made some allusion. it was thought necessary to prepare the savage mind for christianity, by the preliminary discipline of a civilizing process. this is inverting the order in which god proceeds: "the entrance of thy word giveth light." when the voice of god speaks within, and not before, the demoniac quits "his dwelling amongst the tombs;" no longer "tears off his raiment" like a brute beast, unconscious of shame; ceases to be "exceeding fierce," and is now found "sitting at the feet of jesus, clothed, and in his right mind." a few efforts upon this, the right evangelical principle as we conceive, have been made from time to time amongst these degraded aborigines; but the success has not been great. a wide field still remains, thinly peopled and spiritually uncultivated. if these lines should be read by our christian friends in australia, to them we would venture to commend the glorious enterprise. let there be one colony at least in which the aborigines shall share the intruder's prosperity. let the vast centre of the australian continent one day rejoice in its thronging tribes of christian aborigines. mr. marsden's view of the native character may be gathered from the following statement, which he published in self-defence when charged with indifference as to their conversion. "more than twenty years ago, a native lived with me at paramatta, and for a while i thought i could make something of him; but at length he got tired, and no inducement could prevail upon him to continue in my house; he took to the bush again, where he has continued ever since. one of my colleagues, the rev. r. johnstone, took two native girls into his house, for the express purpose of educating them; they were fed and clothed like europeans; but in a short time they went into the woods again. another native, named daniel, was taken when a boy into the family of mrs. c.; he was taken to england; mixed there with the best society, and could speak english well; but on his return from england he reverted to his former wild pursuits." in reply to the inquiries made by mr. marsden, who once met daniel after he returned to his savage state, he said; "the natives universally prefer a free and independent life, with all its privations, to the least restraint." without multiplying instances quoted by mr. marsden, the trial he made with an infant shows that his heart was not unfriendly towards these people. "one of my boys, whom i attempted to civilize, was taken from its mother's breast, and brought up with my own children for twelve years; but he retained his instinctive taste for native food; and he wanted that attachment to me and my family that we had just reason to look for; and always seemed deficient in those feelings of affection which are the very bonds of social life." this boy ran away at rio from mr. marsden, when returning from england in , but was brought back to the colony by captain piper; and died in the sydney hospital, exhibiting christian faith and penitence. "i mentioned to the governor," he adds, "some of these circumstances, but not with any view to create difficulties; so far from it, that i informed him that i was authorized by the church missionary society to assist any plan with pecuniary aid, that was likely to benefit the natives of the colony." a mission was in fact set on foot by this society; but from various causes, it failed, and was abandoned. chapter vi. mr. marsden's correspondence with the london missionary society--buys the brig active--his first voyage to new zealand--journal of events. richard baxter, after describing his ministerial labours at kidderminster in preaching and visiting from house to house, has these remarkable words: "but all these, my labours, even preaching and preparing for it, were but my recreations, and, as it were, the work of my spare hours; for my writings were my chiefest daily labour." mr. marsden had his recreations, too. amidst the anxieties of his colonial chaplaincy he found or made opportunities to conduct a work which of itself would have been sufficient to exhaust the energies and to immortalize the memory of any other man. we devote this chapter to a short, and, of necessity, imperfect sketch of these his _recreations_ in the missionary field. on his return from england in , he found disastrous tidings of the tahitian mission awaiting his arrival. disheartened by their utter want of success, divided amongst themselves, distracted with fears of danger from the natives, several of the missionaries had fled from their posts, and taken refuge in new south wales. the work appeared to be on the eve of ruin, and it was owing in no small measure to the firmness and wise conduct of mr. marsden that it was not, for a time at least, abandoned. "sooner," he exclaims, in one of his letters to the society at home, "than _that_ shall be the case, i will give up my chaplaincy, and go myself and live at otaheite." yet it was no easy task to inspire others with his own courage, or to impart his hopeful spirit to a desponding band of men. he felt the difficulty, and acted towards them in the most considerate manner. instead of at once insisting on their return, he received them into his family, where it is scarcely necessary to say they were treated with that patriarchal hospitality for which the parsonage of paramatta was famed. when a few months had passed, and their spirits were cheered and their health restored, the question of their return to tahiti was introduced and quietly discussed. their kind and pious host had never for an instant doubted of their ultimate success. we have perused numerous letters addressed by him to the london missionary society, and to various friends in england; but in not one of them is the shadow of a doubt expressed as to the triumph of the gospel in tahiti and the society islands; and we may extend the remark to the new zealand mission, as shown by his correspondence with the church missionary society a few years later. about this period a reaction had taken place in england amongst religious people. the fond hopes they had unwisely entertained of seeing vast results wherever the gospel was introduced among the heathen and upon the first proclamation of it, had been grievously disturbed; and now the tide ran in the opposite direction. nothing appears to have given mr. marsden more uneasiness than the general lukewarmness of the church of christ at home, and their despondency as to the success of missions. he speaks of his "anxious days and sleepless nights." but his own courage never failed; and this high undoubting faith, it is beautiful to observe, rests always on the same foundation. it was not, much as he respected them, his confidence either in the societies at home, or in their missionaries abroad, but simply in the promises of god, in the power of the gospel, and in the unchanging love of christ for his "inheritance" among the heathen. thus the missionaries were induced to return to their deserted posts; and not only so, but to resume their work in a higher spirit of faith and cheerfulness. it was not long before hopeful signs broke out, and within ten years pomare the sovereign became a christian king, and the island of tahiti a christian land. the distance of these missions from australia, and the difficulty of communicating with them, suggested to mr. marsden the advantage of employing a vessel entirely on missionary service. when his mind was once made up he lost no time; the consent of the societies in england could not all at once be gained; so he resolved, at his own cost, to purchase a missionary ship, the first probably that ever floated on the deep, and bought the active, a brig of a hundred tons burden, for the service of the two great missions on which his heart was fixed. the following letter, addressed to the rev. george burder, though written two years later, is introduced here to complete our summary of the re-establishment of the tahitian mission: "paramatta, june , . "rev. and dear sir,--i received a short letter from you by the late arrivals, and found you had not got any very interesting accounts from the brethren at otaheite. the last account i had from them, they were going on exceedingly well, and the lord was owning and blessing their labours. you will hear i lately visited new zealand, and also my views of that island. finding that the societies in london could not make up their minds, neither as a body nor as individuals, to send out a vessel, i at last determined to purchase one for the purpose on my own account. the various expenses attending it have created me some little pecuniary difficulties; but they are only known to myself, and not such as will be attended with any serious consequence. i hope in a little time i shall be able to surmount them; whether i shall keep the vessel in my own hands or not, i am not certain as yet. i cannot do it without some assistance at the first; if i could, i certainly would not trouble any of my friends. the vessel has been twice at new zealand, and is gone a third time. when she returns i intend her to visit the brethren at otaheite. it is my intention that she should sail in august next to otaheite. the brethren there have been labouring hard to build a vessel for themselves, which is almost completed. i have agreed to take a share with them in her. during the time the brethren have been building their vessel, the work of the lord appears to have prospered very much, far beyond all expectation." he adds, "i estimate the expenses of the vessel at _l._ per annum, and i think, if i am not mistaken in my views, that her returns will not be less than _l._ per annum, and perhaps more. i may venture to say i should not call on the two societies for more than the sum i have stated, namely, _l._ per annum from this time. i will not demand anything if the returns cover the expenses for the use of the vessel." these returns were to be obtained by "freighting the active with the produce of the industry of the natives, and trading with them in return." this would "stimulate their exertions, correct their vagrant minds, and enrich them with the comforts and conveniences of civil life." the letter closes with suggesting yet another mission; for the large heart of the writer saw in the approaching triumph of the gospel in his favourite missions only a call to fresh exertions. even as paul, when he had "fully preached from jerusalem round about unto illyricum," sighed after fresh labours, and still remoter conquests for his lord. "i wish to mention to you that it would be a great object if the society would turn their thoughts a little to the friendly islands. new zealand being on one side, and the society islands on the other, with labourers now upon them, the friendly islands ought not to be left destitute. these islands are very populous, and as the london missionary society first began the work there, i think they should renew their attempt. i cannot recommend any establishment upon any of the islands in the south seas, unless commerce is more or less attended to, in order to call forth the industry of the natives. provided the society as a body will not consent to have anything to do with commerce, i see no reason why a few pious friends might not, who wish to aid the missionary cause. you cannot form a nation without commerce and the civil arts. a person of information who is well acquainted with the friendly islands informed me that the labour of a hundred thousand men might be brought into action upon these islands in producing sugar, cordage, cotton, etc.... a hundred thousand men will never form themselves into any regular society, and enjoy the productions of their country without commerce. should the society have any doubts upon the point, let them authorize an inquiry into the state of these islands, when there is an opportunity to examine them, and a report of their inhabitants and their productions laid out before them." mr. marsden then describes the openings at new zealand, and concludes a long letter thus: "i have stated my sentiments with great haste. you will excuse the hasty scrawl. i can assure you my sincere wish and prayer to the great head of the church is that all may prosper that love him. i am, dear sir, yours affectionately, s. marsden." a postscript adds:-- "since writing this letter, i have determined to keep the active in my own hands." let us now turn to the new zealand mission, which occupied, from this time, so large a portion of mr. marsden's public life. we have mentioned the designation of two laymen, messrs. hall and king, for this mission by the church missionary society in . they sailed from england, with mr. marsden, in , and were soon after followed by mr. kendall, and the three assembled at new south wales, intending to sail thence without delay for the scene of their future work. but here fresh difficulties arose. mr. marsden's intention was to accompany them, and in person to meet the first dangers, and lay, as it were, the first stone. but this the new governor absolutely forbade. to him, and in fact to most men in his circumstances, the whole scheme seemed utterly preposterous. the idea of converting the savages of new zealand was the chimera of a pious enthusiast--a good and useful man in his way, but one who was not to be allowed thus idly to squander the lives of others, to say nothing of his own. nor in truth were the governor's objections altogether without foundation. the last news from new zealand was that an english ship, the boyd, had been seized and burned by the cannibals in the bay of islands, and every soul on board, seventy in all, killed and eaten. the report was true, save only that, out of the whole of the ship's company, two women and a boy had been spared to live in slavery with the savages. a new zealand chief had sailed on board, as it afterwards appeared, and had been treated with brutal indignities similar to those which duaterra suffered from the captain of the santa anna. he smothered his resentment, and, waiting the return of the boyd to the bay of islands, summoned his tribe, who, on various pretences, crowded the deck of the ship, and at a given signal rushed upon the crew, dispatched them with their clubs and hatchets, and then gorged themselves and their followers on the horrible repast. all then that mr. marsden could obtain at present was permission to charter a vessel, if a captain could be found sufficiently courageous to risk his life and ship in such an enterprise, and to send out the three missionaries as pioneers; with a reluctant promise from the governor that if on the ship's return, all had turned out well, he should not be hindered from following. for some time no such adventurous captain could be found. at length, for the sum of _l._ for a single voyage, an offer was made, but mr. marsden looked upon the sum as far too much; and this, with other considerations, induced him to purchase his own missionary brig, the active, in which messrs. hall and kendall finally set sail for the bay of islands. they carried a message to duaterra, entreating him to receive them kindly, and inviting him, too, to return with them to paramatta, bringing along with him two or three friendly chiefs. duaterra, after his visit to mr. marsden, on his way from england, had again suffered great hardships from the perfidy of the master of the frederick, with whom he had embarked from new south wales under an express engagement to be set on shore at the bay of islands, where his tribe dwelt. he was carried to norfolk island, and there left; and, to aggravate his wrongs and sorrows, the vessel passed within two miles of his own shores and in sight of his long lost home. he was defrauded too of his share of the oil he had procured with his companions, worth _l_. a whaler found him on norfolk island, almost naked and in the last stage of want, and brought him once more to australia and to his friend and patron mr. marsden. a short stay sufficed; he sailed again from sydney, and soon found himself, to his great joy, amongst his friends in new zealand. on the arrival of the active with its missionaries--the first messengers of christ who landed on its shores--he was there to greet them, and to repay, a thousandfold, the kindness of his friend the minister of paramatta, in the welcome he secured for these defenceless strangers. they carried with them too a present which, trifling as it may seem, was not without its share of influence in the great work; the story is suggestive, and may serve a higher purpose than merely to amuse the reader. duaterra had been provided by mr. marsden with a supply of wheat for sowing on his return to new zealand. no such thing as a field of grain of any kind had yet waved its golden ears on that fertile soil. to this accomplished savage the honour belongs of first introducing agriculture into an island destined, within forty years, to rival the best farms of england both in the value of its crops and the variety of its produce. the neighbouring chiefs and their tribes viewed with wonder first the green ears and then the growing corn. the wild potato, the fern, and a few other roots were the only produce of the earth they were yet acquainted with, and when duaterra assured them that his field of wheat was to yield the flour out of which the bread and biscuits they had tasted on english ships were made, they tore up several plants, expecting to find something resembling their own potato at the root. that the ears themselves should furnish the materials for a loaf was not to be believed. duaterra meant to impose upon them, or else he had been duped himself, but they were not to be cajoled with the tales of a traveller. the field was reaped and the corn threshed out, when duaterra was mortified with the discovery that he was not provided with a mill. he made several attempts to grind his corn with the help of a coffee-mill borrowed from a trading-ship, but without success; and now, like the inventor of steam navigation, and other benefactors of their species nearer home, he was laughed at for his simplicity. it is strange that the ancient roman _quern_, a hollow stone in which the grain was pounded, the rudest form in fact of the pestle and mortar, should not have occurred to him; but the total want of invention is an invariable characteristic of savage nature. at length the active brought the important present of a hand-mill for grinding corn. duaterra's friends assembled to watch the experiment, still incredulous of the promised result; but when the meal began to stream out beneath the machine their astonishment was unbounded; and when a cake was produced, hastily baked in a frying-pan, they shouted and danced for joy, duaterra was now to be trusted when he told them that the missionaries were good men. and thus the first favourable impression was made upon the savage maories, whose race was in the next generation to become a civilized and christian people. messrs hall and kendall, having introduced themselves and their mission in new zealand, now, in obedience to their instructions, returned to sydney accompanied by duaterra and six other chiefs, amongst whom was duaterra's uncle the famous shunghie, or hongi, the most powerful of new zealand chieftains; such was the confidence which mr. marsden's name, together with the good conduct of the missionaries, had now inspired. the active reached new south wales on the nd of august, . nothing could exceed the joy which mr. marsden experienced on the successful termination of the voyage, and being filled with an earnest desire to promote the dissemination of the gospel amongst the new zealanders, and having obtained the governor's permission, he determined to accompany the missionaries on their return to the bay of islands. to his friend, avison terry, esq., he wrote just before he sailed, oct. , --"it is my intention to visit new zealand and see what can be done to promote the eternal welfare of the inhabitants of that island. i have now several of the chiefs living with me at paramatta. they are as noble a race of men as are to be met with in any part of the world. i trust i shall be able, in some measure, to put a stop to those dreadful murders which have been committed upon the island for some years past, both by the europeans and the natives. they are a much injured people, notwithstanding all that has been advanced against them. the time is now come, in my opinion, for them to be favoured with the everlasting gospel; and i trust to hear the joyful sound in those dark and dreary regions of sin and spiritual bondage. i have long had the most ardent wish to visit these poor heathen, but have never till the present time obtained permission. i have submitted my views to the church missionary society, and solicited their aid. the expense of establishing a mission here will at first be very considerable." ... [here he mentions his purchase of the active, etc.] "should the society approve of my views, no doubt they will give their support, but if they cannot enter into them in the manner i do, i cannot expect that assistance from them which may be required. my own means will enable me to set the mission on foot in the first instance, and i have little doubt but it will succeed." zeal such as this, tempered with discretion and guided by the "wisdom which cometh from above," in answer to many believing prayers, could scarcely fail of its sure reward. on the th of november, , he embarked on his great mission, with a motley crew, such as (except perhaps on some other missionary ship) has seldom sailed in one small vessel--savages and christian teachers and enterprising mechanics, their wives and children, besides cattle and horses. of this strangely assorted company he gives the following description: "the number of persons on board the active, including women and children, was thirty-five; the master, his wife and son, messrs. kendall, hall, and king, with their wives and children, eight new zealanders, (including duaterra and his uncle the great warrior shunghie or hongi) two otaheitans, and four europeans belonging to the vessel, besides mr. john lydiard nicholas and myself; there were also two sawyers, one smith, and a runaway convict whom we afterwards found on board, a horse and two mares, one bull and two cows, with a few sheep and poultry. the bull and cows have been presented by governor macquarie from his majesty's herd." on the th december, they were in sight of land; the next day, the chiefs were sent on shore, and a friendly communication was at once opened with the natives. but even before they had landed "a canoe came alongside the active, with plenty of fish, and shortly afterwards a chief followed from the shore, who immediately came on board." mr. marsden's fame, as the friend of the new zealanders, had arrived before him. "i told them my name, with which they were all well acquainted.... we were now quite free from all fear, as the natives seemed desirous to show us attention by every possible means in their power." the active dropped her anchor a few days after at wangaroa, near the bay of islands, the scene of the massacre of the boyd's crew, and there amongst the very cannibals by whose hands their countrymen had fallen so recently the first christian mission to new zealand was opened. a fierce and unholy revenge had been taken, in the murder of tippahee, a native chieftain, and all his family, by an english crew who had visited wangaroa after the boyd's destruction, and tippahee, as mr. marsden always maintained, suffered unjustly, having had no share in the dreadful massacre. but thus it was; and amongst a people so exasperated did these servants of the most high god venture forth as the heralds of the gospel. seldom since the words of the prophet were first uttered have they had, in reference to missionaries, a more significant, or a more correct appropriation than they now received. "how beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings, that publisheth peace; that bringeth good tidings of good, that publisheth salvation." mr. marsden's journal of this his first visit to new zealand is a document of singular interest, and when published at the time in england, it made a deep impression. it is written in plain and forcible language, and is characterized by that vein of good sense and practical wisdom which so distinguished him. there is no display of his own sufferings, trials and privations, no affectation of laboured and studied expression, no highly coloured and partial representation of the savage condition of the natives. all his aim is to lay the truth before the society and the friends of missions, and in doing so he has written with a degree of accuracy and honest feeling, which while they inform the understanding at once reach the heart. from this unpretending record, a few selections will be laid before the reader. and here, too, we would, once for all, acknowledge our obligations to his "companion in travel," j. l. nicholas, esq., to whose manuscript journal of the visit to new zealand, as well indeed as for other communications of great interest on the subject of mr. marsden's life and labours, we shall be much indebted through the future pages of our work. duaterra and shunghie had often told of the bloody war, arising out of the affair of the boyd, that was raging, while they were at paramatta, between the people of wangaroa (the tribe of tippahee) and the inhabitants of the bay of islands, who were their own friends and followers; the wangaroans accusing the people of the bay of islands of having conspired with the english in the murder of tippahee. when the active arrived, several desperate battles had been fought, and the war was likely to continue. mr. marsden was determined to establish peace amongst these contending tribes. he was known already as the friend of duaterra and shunghie; he now felt that he must convince the other party of his good intentions. he did not come amongst them as an ally of either, but as the friend of both; he resolved therefore to pass some time with the wangaroans; and with a degree of intrepidity truly astonishing even in him, not only ventured on shore, but actually passed the night, accompanied by his friend mr. nicholas alone, with the very savages who had killed and eaten his countrymen. after a supper of fish and potatoes in the camp of shunghie, they walked over to the hostile camp distant about a mile. they received the two white strangers very cordially. "we sat down amongst them, and the chiefs surrounded us." mr. marsden then introduced the subject of his embassy, explained the object of the missionaries in coming to live amongst them, and showed how much peace would conduce in every way to the welfare of all parties. a chief, to whom the europeans gave the name of george, acted as interpreter; he had sailed on board an english ship, and spoke english well. mr. marsden tells us how the first night was passed: "as the evening advanced the people began to retire to rest in different groups. about eleven o'clock mr. nicholas and i wrapped ourselves in our great coats, and prepared for rest. george directed me to lie by his side. his wife and child lay on the right hand, and mr. nicholas close by. the night was clear; the stars shone bright, and the sea in our front was smooth; around us were innumerable spears stuck upright in the ground, and groups of natives lying in all directions, like a flock of sheep upon the grass, as there were neither tents nor huts to cover them. i viewed our present situation with sensations and feelings that i cannot express, surrounded by cannibals who had massacred and devoured our countrymen. i wondered much at the mysteries of providence, and how these things could be. never did i behold the blessed advantage of civilization in a more grateful light than now. i did not sleep much during the night. my mind was too seriously occupied by the present scene, and the new and strange ideas it naturally excited. about three in the morning i rose and walked about the camp, surveying the different groups of natives. when the morning light returned we beheld men, women, and children, asleep in all directions like the beasts of the field. i had ordered the boat to come on shore for us at daylight; and soon after duaterra arrived in the camp." in the morning he gave an invitation to the chiefs to breakfast on board the active, which they readily accepted. "at first i entertained doubts whether the chiefs would trust themselves with us or not, on account of the boyd, lest we should detain them when we had them in our power; but they showed no signs of fear, and went on board with apparent confidence. the axes, billhooks, prints, etc., i intended to give them were all got ready after breakfast; the chiefs were seated in the cabin in great form to receive the presents, i sat on the one side, and they on the other side of the table; duaterra stood and handed me each article separately that i was to give them. messrs. kendall, hall, and king, with the master of the active and his son, were all one after the other introduced to the chiefs. the chiefs were at the same time informed what duty each of the three persons were appointed to do. mr. kendall to instruct their children, mr. hall to build houses, boats, etc., mr. king to make fishing lines, and mr. hanson to command the active, which would be employed in bringing axes and such things as were wanted from sydney, to enable them to cultivate their lands and improve their country. when these ceremonies were over, i expressed my hope that they would have no more wars, but from that time would be reconciled to each other. duaterra, shunghie, and koro koro shook hands with the chiefs of wangaroa, and saluted each other as a token of reconciliation by joining their noses together. i was much gratified to see these men at amity once more." the chieftains now took their leave, much pleased with the attention of mr. marsden, and still more so with his presents; and they promised for the future to protect the missionaries and never to injure the european traders. some of the presents excited no little wonder; no new zealander, except the few who like duaterra had been on foreign travel, had ever seen either cows or horses, for the largest quadruped yet naturalized in the island was the pig, and even that had been introduced but recently. duaterra had often told his wondering countrymen of the horse and its rider, and in return was always laughed at; but when the horses were now landed and mr. marsden actually mounted one of them, they stood in crowds and gazed in mute astonishment. these traits of infant civilization are not without their use to those who may hereafter be cast among barbarous tribes, or may attempt their improvement. the first sunday on which the one true god was worshipped in new zealand since the creation, will be for ever memorable in her annals. it was also christmas-day, the th of december, , "a day much to be remembered." mr. marsden thus describes it: "duaterra passed the remaining part of the previous day in preparing for the sabbath. he inclosed about half an acre of land with a fence, erected a pulpit and reading desk in the centre, and covered the whole either with black native cloth or some duck which he had brought with him from port jackson. he also procured some bottoms of old canoes, and fixed them up as seats on each side of the pulpit, for the europeans to sit upon; intending to have divine service performed there the next day. these preparations he made of his own accord; and in the evening informed me that everything was ready for divine service. i was much pleased with this singular mark of his attention. the reading-desk was about three feet from the ground, and the pulpit about six feet. the black cloth covered the top of the pulpit, and hung over the sides; the bottom of the pulpit, as well as the reading-desk, was part of a canoe. the whole was becoming, and had a solemn appearance. he had also erected a flagstaff on the highest hill in the village, which had a very commanding view. "on sunday morning, when i was upon deck, i saw the english flag flying, which was a pleasing sight in new zealand. i considered it as the signal and the dawn of civilization, liberty and religion, in that dark and benighted land. i never viewed the british colours with more gratification; and flattered myself they would never be removed, till the natives of that island enjoyed all the happiness of british subjects. "about ten o'clock we prepared to go ashore, to publish for the first time the glad tidings of the gospel. i was under no apprehension for the safety of the vessel; and, therefore, ordered all on board to go on shore to attend divine service, except the master and one man. when we landed, we found koro koro, duaterra, and shunghie, dressed in regimentals, which governor macquarie had given them, with their men drawn up, ready to be marched into the inclosure to attend divine service. they had their swords by their sides, and switches in their hands. we entered the inclosure, and were placed on the seats on each side of the pulpit. koro koro marched his men, and placed them on my right hand, in the rear of the europeans: and duaterra placed his men on the left. the inhabitants of the town, with the women and children, and a number of other chiefs, formed a circle round the whole. a very solemn silence prevailed--the sight was truly impressive. i rose up and began the service with singing the old hundredth psalm; and felt my very soul melt within me when i viewed my congregation, and considered the state they were in. after reading the service, during which the natives stood up and sat down at the signals given by koro koro's switch, which was regulated by the movements of the europeans, it being christmas day, i preached from the second chapter of st. luke's gospel and tenth verse, 'behold, i bring you glad tidings of great joy," etc. the natives told duaterra that they could not understand what i meant. he replied, that they were not to mind that now, for they would understand by-and-by; and that he would explain my meaning as far as he could. when i had done preaching, he informed them what i had been talking about. duaterra was very much pleased that he had been able to make all the necessary preparations for the performance of divine worship in so short a time, and we felt much obliged to him for his attention. he was extremely anxious to convince us that he would do everything in his power, and that the good of his country was his principal consideration. "in this manner, the gospel has been introduced into new zealand; and i fervently pray that the glory of it may never depart from its inhabitants till time shall be no more." the confidence of the natives in mr. marsden was now unbounded, and scarcely less was the confidence he reposed in them; and he resolved upon a short coasting voyage, with the view of exploring their different harbours, and making arrangements for the future extension of the mission. many of the chiefs and warriors, led by duaterra, wished to sail with him, and without the slightest misgiving, twenty-eight savages, fully armed after the fashion of their country, were invited on board the active, manned as she was by only seven europeans. "i do not believe," mr. nicholas observes, "that a similar instance can be shown of such unlimited confidence placed in a race of savages known to be cannibals. we are wholly in their power, and what is there to hinder them from abusing it? next to the overruling providence of god, there is nothing but the character of the ship, which seems to have something almost sacred in their eyes, and the influence of mr. marsden's name, which acts as a talisman amongst them. they feel convinced that he is sacrificing his own ease and comfort to promote their welfare." their leave of absence having nearly expired, mr. marsden and his companions were now obliged to prepare for their voyage homeward. they had laid the foundations of a great work--how great, none of them could tell. but they were full of faith in god, while, as patriots, they exulted in the prospect of extending the renown of dear old england. mr. marsden, in his conversations with the natives, explained to them the nature of our government, and the form of trial by jury; he discoursed with them upon the evils of polygamy, and showed his marked abhorrence of their darling vices--theft and lying. a chisel being lost from the active a boat was sent on shore, manned by duaterra and other chieftains, to demand restitution; the culprit was not found, nor the implement restored; but a whole village was aroused from its slumbers at midnight, and the inhabitants literally trembled with fear of the consequences when they saw the angry chieftains, though no harm was permitted to ensue. an example of high integrity was always set. mr. marsden might, for instance, have obtained land, or timber, or, in short, whatever he required in exchange for ammunition and muskets; but he sternly interdicted the sale or barter of these articles upon any terms whatever, and to this resolution he always adhered. again and again does he express his determination, as well in this its earliest stage as in later periods of the mission, rather to abandon the whole work, which was far dearer to him than life itself, than to suffer it to be tainted by what he considered so nefarious a barter. "i further told them," he says, "that the smith should make axes or hoes, or any other tools they wanted; but that he was on no account to repair any pistols or muskets, or make any warlike instruments, no not even for the greatest chiefs upon the island." and he "took an opportunity, upon all occasions, to impress upon their minds the horrors their cannibalism excited; how much their nation was disgraced by it, and dreaded on this account." one thing still remained to be done. the missionaries possessed no land, and were liable, after his departure, to be removed or driven out at the mere caprice of the tribes amongst whom they settled. he therefore determined, if possible, to purchase for them a small estate. it consisted of about two hundred acres; and the first plot of ground to which england can lay claim in new zealand was formally made over in a deed, of which mr. nicholas has fortunately preserved a transcript. it was executed in the presence of a number of chiefs, who were assembled to take leave of the active on the day before she sailed, and ran as follows:-- "know all men to whom these presents shall come, that i, anodee o gunna, king of rangheehoo, in the island of new zealand, have, in consideration of twelve axes to me in hand now paid and delivered by the reverend samuel marsden of paramatta, in the territory of new south wales, given, granted, bargained, and sold; and by this present instrument do give, grant, bargain, and sell unto the committee of the church missionary society for africa and the east, instituted in london, in the kingdom of great britain, and to their heirs and successors, all that piece and parcel of land situate in the district of hoshee, in the island of new zealand, bounded on the south side by the bay of lippouna and the town of rangheehoo, on the north side by a creek of fresh water, and on the west by a public road into the interior, together with all the rights, members, privileges, and appurtenances thereto belonging; to have and to hold to the aforesaid committee of the church missionary society for africa and the east, instituted in london, in the kingdom of great britain, their heirs, successors, and assigns, for ever, clear and freed from all taxes, charges, impositions, and contributions whatsoever, as and for their own absolute and proper estate for ever. "in testimony whereof i have to these presents, thus done and given, set my hand at hoshee, in the island of new zealand, this twenty-fourth day of february, in the year of christ, one thousand eight hundred and fifteen. (signatures to the grant.) "thomas kendall. "j. l. nicholas." to this was affixed a complete drawing of the "amoco," or tattooing of gunna's face, done by shunghie, on one side of which he set his mark. we need scarcely remind the reader how closely this transaction resembles the famous contract of william penn with the native indians, by which he became possessed of pennsylvania. much and justly as penn has been admired, mr. marsden's conduct is even more worthy of respect. penn sought to found a colony, to place himself at its head, and to associate his own name with it through generations to come. the chaplain of paramatta had not even these motives of honest and laudable ambition; he sought nothing for himself, nothing for his country, nothing even for the church of which he was a member, and which he warmly loved. his one aim was to evangelize new zealand; to bring a nation of cannibals from darkness into the marvellous light of the gospel, and from the power of satan unto god. his own name appears on the instrument only as the agent or representative of a missionary society in whom the property was vested; and yet at the time the purchase was made he was uncertain whether the bare expenses of his voyage, or even the cost and charges of his vessel, would ever be repaid to him. he sought neither wealth, nor honour, nor preferment, but acted with a simple aim to the glory of god. the memorial of such a name can never perish amongst men; and should it be forgotten, still his record is on high. mr. marsden returned from his first voyage to new zealand accompanied by no less than ten chiefs, and landed at sydney on the rd of march, . he and mr. nicholas immediately presented themselves to the governor, who "congratulated them on their safe return," from what, in common with all the colony, he regarded as a most perilous and rash adventure. chapter vii. death of duaterra--trials of mr. marsden in the colony--libel of philo-free--letter to rev. george burder--to dr. mason good--sympathy of his friends in england--congratulations of the th regiment, and mr. marsden's acknowledgment--letters of lord gambier, rev. c. simeon, and mrs. fry. it was not to be expected that a career of unbroken success and easy triumph should crown the infant mission in new zealand. reverses and delays were to be looked for; they were in the nature of the work itself; and for such trials mr. marsden was prepared. but he had scarcely arrived at paramatta before he was involved in sharper conflicts. no doubt they were a part of god's discipline of love: for if paul required "a thorn in the flesh" lest he "should be exalted above measure," meaner disciples may surely expect to meet with stern rebuffs, in their career of usefulness and honour; and they will even learn to accept them with a thankful and a joyous heart. the first discouragement was the death of duaterra. mr. marsden had left him sick; and four days after his departure he expired, surrounded by his heathen countrymen, from whose superstitions, even to the last, he was by no means free. "he appeared at this awful moment," mr. marsden writes, describing his last interview, "not to know what to do. he wished me to pray with him, which i did; but the superstitions of his country had evidently a strong hold upon his mind; the priest was always with him, night and day. duaterra seemed at a loss where to repose his afflicted mind; his views of the gospel were not sufficiently clear to remove his superstitions; and at the same time he was happy to hear what i had to say to him. what horrors do these poor people suffer when they come to die!" his favourite wife, dahoo, was inconsolable; and while shunghie and his near relatives cut themselves with knives till the blood gushed out, she sought and found an opportunity to put a period to her own life by hanging herself, at a short distance from the body of her husband. none of the natives, not even her relatives, appeared shocked or surprised. "her mother," mr. kendall wrote, "wept while she was composing the limbs of her daughter; but she applauded her resolution, and the sacrifice which she had made for the man she so tenderly loved. her father observed her corpse without any apparent concern. i could not discover a tear at the time it was brought before him. two of her brothers smiled on the occasion, and said, 'it was a good thing at new zealand.' it is common for women to act thus when their husbands die; they think that they then go to them." mr. marsden, for a time, was almost overwhelmed. "i could not but view duaterra, as he lay dying, with wonder and astonishment; and could scarcely bring myself to believe that the divine goodness would remove from the earth a man whose life appeared of such infinite importance to his country, which was just emerging from barbarism and superstition. no doubt but he had done his work and finished his appointed course, though i fondly imagined he had only just begun his race. he was in the prime and vigour of manhood: i judge his age to be about twenty-eight years. in reflecting on this awful and mysterious event, i am led to exclaim, with the apostle of the gentiles, 'oh the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of god! how unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding out!'" he was indeed a noble specimen of human nature in its savage state. his character was cast in the mould of heroes: at the very period of his death, after ten years of as much privation, danger, and hardship as nature could well bear, his courage was unsubdued, and his patriotism and enterprise unabated. he told mr. marsden with an air of triumph, "i have now introduced the cultivation of wheat into new zealand; new zealand will become a great country; in two years more i shall be able to export wheat to port jackson, in exchange for hoes, axes, spades, tea and sugar." he had made arrangements for farming on a large scale, and had formed his plan for building a new town, with regular streets, after the european mode, on a beautiful situation which commanded a view of the harbour and the adjacent country. "i accompanied him to the spot," says mr. m.; "we examined the ground fixed on for the town, and the situation where the church was to stand." had he lived he would have been the ulysses of his ithaca--perhaps its alfred; and nothing in his whole life gives us a juster idea of mr. marsden's sagacity and keen perception than the fact of his singling out duaterra, a sick and apparently dying common sailor on shipboard, and training him to be a powerful instrument, in god's hands, for the civilization of new zealand. other trials followed the death of duaterra. fresh wars broke out. one hostile tribe encamped in sight of the mission premises, and, no longer restrained by mr. marsden's presence, threatened, not indeed to expel the missionaries, but to kill and eat them. for months together the affrighted band kept watch night and day; their children were laid to sleep in their cots dressed, to be ready for instant flight, and the boat was always kept afloat, with its oars and sail in readiness. the storm blew over, and they remained stedfast at their posts. soon afterwards, the wesleyan methodists established their important and successful mission in the island, and the missionaries gained strength from each other in society and mutual counsel. the first wesleyan missionary, the rev. samuel leigh, was well known at paramatta, and mr. marsden viewed his labours with thankfulness and hope; but the reports which reached him from time to time of the difficulties to which the missions were exposed still added much to his anxieties. and now a series of persecutions began, which, while they never cowed his brave spirit, harassed and disturbed him more than those who were acquainted only with the outward features of his strong, dauntless character would have readily believed. it is greatly to his honour that all the sufferings to which he was exposed--newspaper libels, official misrepresentations, and personal abuse--arose immediately out of his endeavours to raise the morals of the colony, and to protect the unhappy women who came out as convicts, and were at that time exposed by most iniquitous neglect to still further degradation. just before his departure for new zealand, he had addressed an official letter to the governor, calling his attention to the present state of paramatta and its neighbourhood, as far as it related to its public morals and police, and especially with regard to the female convicts, of whom upwards of one hundred and fifty, besides seventy children, were employed in a government factory there, and whose condition, as far as we can venture to describe it, may be gathered from the following passage. the scene is painful; it is the dark side of our colonial history; but those who will not listen to these recitals can know but little of the obligations which society is under to such men as howard and samuel marsden, or to heroic women, such as mrs. fry. in his letter to the governor he says: "the number of women employed at the factory is one hundred and fifty; they have seventy children. there is not any room in the factory that can be called a bed-room for these women and children. there are only two rooms, and these are both occupied as workshops; they are over the jail, and are about eighty feet long and twenty wide. in these rooms there are forty-six women daily employed, twenty spinning wool upon the common wheel, and twenty-six carding. there are also in them the warping-machine, etc., belonging to the factory. these rooms are crowded all the day, and at night such women sleep in them as are confined for recent offences, amongst the wheels, wool, and cards, and a few others, who have no means whatever of procuring a better abode. the average number of women who sleep in the factory is about thirty in the whole. many of these women have little, and some no bedding; they all sleep on the floor. there is not a candle or bedstead belonging to the factory. i do not deem it either safe or prudent that even thirty women should sleep in the factory, which has been crowded all day with working people; the air must be bad and contagious. were the magistrate to compel even half the number of women, with their children, to sleep in the factory which belong to it, they could not exist. not less than one hundred and twenty women are at large in the night to sleep where they can." he urges upon the governor the necessity of at least providing lodgings in barracks for these poor creatures. "when i am called upon," he adds, "in the hour of sickness and want to visit them in the general hospital, or in the wretched hovels where they lodge, my mind is often oppressed beyond measure at the sight of their sufferings.... and if their dreary prospect beyond the grave be viewed in a religious light it far exceeds in horror the utmost bounds of human imagination. as their minister i must answer ere long at the bar of divine justice for my duty to these objects of vice and woe, and often feel inexpressible anguish of spirit, in the moment of their approaching dissolution, on my own and their account, and follow them to the grave with awful forebodings lest i should be found at last to have neglected any part of my public duty as their minister and magistrate, and by so doing contributed to their eternal ruin. so powerful are these reflections at times that i envy the situation of the most menial servant who is freed from this sacred and solemn responsibility, namely, the care of immortal souls.... i am of opinion that no clergyman was ever placed in so painful and trying a situation as far as relates to the moral and religious state of the people committed to his care. i see them devoted to vice, and infamy, and extreme wretchedness while living, and when they come to die suffering all the horror of mind and anguish of spirit that guilt can possibly inspire, without the means of applying any remedy in either case.... i humbly conceive it is incompatible with the character and wish of the british nation that her own exiles should be exposed to such privations and dangerous temptations, when she is daily feeding the hungry, and clothing the naked, and receiving into her friendly, i may add pious bosom, strangers whether savage or civilized of every nation under heaven." the governor courteously replied, acknowledging the receipt of his letter; but no further steps were taken; and after waiting eighteen months "without the most distant prospect of obtaining relief for the female convicts from the colonial government," he sent a copy of his own letter, with the governor's answer, to the british government at home. by them it was submitted to a select committee of the house of commons, when, in , the state of our jails came under the consideration of parliament, and was afterwards printed in their report; lord bathurst, the colonial secretary, having previously submitted it to governor macquarie, requesting his opinion on the several matters it contained. great exasperation followed; it seemed for a time as if the whole colony, with scarcely an exception, had risen as one man to crush the principal chaplain, who alone had dared to expose its profligacy and to check its abuses. the storm indeed had begun to mutter around his head before lord bathurst's communication was received. the "sydney gazette," which was under the immediate control of the governor, was allowed to publish from week to week the most scandalous libels upon his character. at length, a letter appeared signed philo-free, which mr. marsden suspected, and at length discovered, to have been written by the governor's secretary; it was aimed not merely against himself--this he could have borne in silence--but against the conduct and the moral character of the missionaries in the south sea islands, whose reputation he felt it his duty at every hazard to protect. he therefore appealed to the laws for shelter and redress, and two successive verdicts justified the course he took. there were at the time many, even of his warm friends, in england, who were almost disposed to blame him for a too sensitive and litigious spirit. but when the whole case lay before them, the wisest and the mildest men absolved him from the charge, and heartily approved his conduct. in the place of any comments of our own we will lay before the reader, in his own words, some of mr. marsden's views upon the subject. they will see the principles by which he was actuated, and they will learn with amazement how great the difficulties with which the friends of missions have had to contend from their own countrymen. the first letter is addressed to the rev. george burder, and was read, as appears from the endorsement it bears, in the committee of the london missionary society, july th, , having been received on the th of june. "paramatta, dec. , . "rev. sir,--i wrote to you very fully by mr. hassall, and informed you what state i was in at that time. since that period i have had many hard struggles to maintain my ground. a very shameful attack was made upon me and the missionaries in the south sea islands by the governor's secretary, in an anonymous letter which he published in the sydney gazette, and of which you are already informed. since my last i have brought the secretary to the criminal bar for the libel. every means were used to pervert judgment that the cunning and art of certain persons could exert. after three days' contest, i obtained a verdict against the secretary. this was a matter of much joy to all who loved the cause of religion, and also to the colony in general. the trouble, anxiety, and expense of the trial were very great, as i had only truth on my side. when i had got a verdict i hoped to enjoy a little quiet, but the next gazette in the report made of the trial, being so false and scandalous, and casting such reflections on me and my friends, i was compelled to appeal to cæsar once more; and last tuesday the cause was heard before the supreme court, when i obtained a verdict again. the supreme judge, justice field, is a very upright man, and acted with great independence in the cause. a verdict was given in my favour to the amount of _l._, with costs. the expense to the secretary will not be much less than _l._ none can tell what i have suffered in my mind for the last five years, on account of the missions, from the opposition of those in power. "i must request the society to use their interest with the british government to check those in authority here from exposing the missionaries, and those connected with them, to the contempt of the whole world by such scandalous anonymous publications as that of which i complain. i have been very anxious to leave the colony altogether, from the continual anxiety i have suffered, and the opposition thrown in the way of every measure i have wished to promote, for the advancement of the kingdom of christ among the heathen." yet he had, in truth, no ground for this despondency. st. paul laid the foundations of flourishing churches amidst "a great fight of afflictions;" what wonder if one of the greatest of protestant missions in a later age should share in trials from which "the churches in macedonia and achaia" were not exempt? the letter proceeds thus: "i am very happy to inform you that all goes on well at the islands, notwithstanding the contests here. i have forwarded to you, by this conveyance, all the letters; from them you will learn the affairs of the missionaries: i hope all the brethren have joined them. four thousand of the natives can now read. i send you one of pomare's letters to me. mr. john eyre has translated it. you will see what the views of the king are. he is now writing a dictionary of his own language, and one of the chiefs is employed at the press. i am very sorry they did not meet the king's wishes with regard to the printing press, and set it up at tahiti, where he lives; taking it away from him was unwise.... the main work is done now, as far as respects the planting of the gospel. their native idols are burned in the fire, and many have 'tasted that the lord is gracious' amongst the inhabitants. they sing, and read, and pray, and teach one another, so that there can be no fear that religion will be lost in the islands again. the work has evidently been of god, and he will carry it on for his own glory. they will now also have their vessel, by which means they can visit the different islands and port jackson. i should wish much to see them turning their attention to agriculture, etc., so as to induce habits of industry among the natives, so that the natives of the society islands may rank with civilized nations." the letter closes, after a minute detail of the affairs of their missions, with an appeal, which, even at this distance of time, must be read with pain, and which nothing short of mental agony would have wrung from such a pen. "i rely with confidence on the society for their support and protection. unless his majesty's ministers will interfere, i may expect similar attacks from the same quarter. if this should be the case, it cannot be expected i should remain in the colony to be ruined in my character, circumstances, and peace of mind. the last seven years have been very dreadful. a solitary individual cannot withstand the influence of those in power, armed with such a deadly weapon as the public papers, and every other means of annoyance at their command. i have written on the subject to lord bathurst.... "i remain, rev. sir, yours affectionately, "samuel marsden. "to rev. george burder." in the same strain he writes to his friend dr. mason good, inclosing the letter of philo-free, and other documents. amongst other threats, representations to the archbishop and the bishop of london had been muttered in the colony, with a view no doubt of inducing them to withdraw him from his post. "should you learn," he says, "that any representations are made to the bishops, and you should deem it necessary, i will thank you to send them the documents i have transmitted, or any part of them, for their information. i should also wish mr. wilberforce to be acquainted with them, if you will at any time take the trouble to lay them before him." then turning to brighter objects, he has the following remarkable passage: "with regard to new zealand, i must refer you to the rev. josiah pratt, (secretary to the church missionary society). great difficulties have opposed the establishment upon that island; but i hope they will all be overcome in time. we have sent two young men to england, as we think this will greatly tend to enlarge their ideas, and prepare them for greater usefulness in their own country. i have no doubt, but that new zealand will soon become a civilized nation. if i were inclined to become a prophet i should say, that all the islands in the south seas will afford an asylum for thousands of europeans hereafter, and new south wales will give laws to, and regulate, all their governments in the course of time. the gospel, humanly speaking, could not be planted in the south sea islands, unless our government had established a colony in new south wales. the british government had no view of this kind when they first formed the colony. how mysterious are all the ways of divine providence! yet may the divine footsteps be traced, if we mark attentively what is passing in the world. god, the governor of this world, orders all things according to his infinite mind, and all things well." he soon had reason to adopt a happier strain. the trial was severe, the more so perhaps from the ardour of his own temperament, which, no doubt, required the chastisement, which became in the highest sense a blessing both to himself and others. writing to the same friend, rd october, , he says: "when i take a retrospect of all that has passed in this colony since my return, i see, with wonder and gratitude, the divine goodness overruling the wills and affections of sinful men, and making all things unite in promoting his glory. 'philo-free' will not be without its benefit to the great cause. had this libel never appeared, the character, constitution and object of the church, and london missionary societies would not have been known in this settlement for many years to come; nor would they have gained the friends which they will eventually do here." letters of congratulation flowed in rapidly, both on account of his missionary exploits in new zealand, and of his personal triumph in new south wales. we can afford only to give a specimen of each; the one to show how the successes of the gospel thrilled english christians with joy in the infancy of missions; and the other to exhibit the warm affection with which the great missionary leader of the southern seas was regarded by his friends at home. "from william terry, esq., "hull, th may, . ..."the account, you gave in your letter, as well as those sent to the church missionary society, which appeared in the missionary register, were very gratifying to all who have at heart the prosperity of zion. i have felt peculiarly interested in the journal of your voyage to new zealand, and when at our (st. john's) church the old hundredth psalm was sung, i felt much elevated in praise to our almighty saviour, that at the same period of the year, and exactly two years before, you had been enabled to proclaim the glad tidings of his salvation, and to commence with the same divine song upon the heathen shores of new zealand. god grant that it may be the dawn of a brighter day: that the lord of all may be adored by all the uncivilized world; that the sun of righteousness may arise and go on to shine with increasing and transforming light and influence upon them, and upon all others who are yet sitting in darkness and in the shadow of death! may he bless all human attempts to promote so glorious a cause, and particularly your own zealous efforts; and may he, for the sake of the same, continue, if it please him, your valuable life for many years to come. i know, from the arduous post which you occupy, that your time must be entirely filled up, and that you can find very little leisure for a correspondent like me, who can render you little or no service.... our esteemed friends, the rev. messrs. dykes, scott, clarke, and foster, are all very well, being in mercy continued yet to this highly favoured town. mr. scott has obtained the living of st. margaret's since the death of mr. barker, and has engaged an excellent curate, a young man of high birth of the name of sibthorpe, who seems very faithful, and will, i hope, be abundantly useful. may the lord bless you and your young family with all temporal and spiritual blessings! and may he bless and direct all your zealous endeavours to promote his cause among the heathen, and to spread the knowledge and saving influence of his truth to all within your influence!" dr. mason good, writing on the subject of the libel, under the date of april, , says: "the triumph you have gained is indeed complete ... persevere, then, my dear friend, in the same good and great and magnanimous course. the eyes of the world are upon you, and what is more, the eye of him who governs the world, and will never fail to give efficacy to his own instruments, and ultimate success to his designs. to this time, however, notwithstanding all the terrible threats that have been thrown out against you, not a single syllable of complaint has arrived from any one; do not therefore let your spirits fail. depend upon esteem and support at home, for your perseverance and manly conduct have produced a very deep and popular sensation in every quarter in which you would wish to stand well." in addition to these gratifying testimonies from home, mr. marsden received a public mark of approbation from the officers of the th regiment, then stationed in the colony, who with a high and chivalrous sense of what was due to one who single handed had so long maintained the cause of truth and righteousness, stepped forward to offer their tribute of respect. he replied as follows:-- "to col. molle and the officers of the th regiment. "paramatta, th oct. . "gentlemen,--i had the honour to receive your public letter under date th may, , and nothing could have given me more real gratification than the very handsome manner in which you have communicated your kind and friendly sentiments to me on the issue of the trials i instituted against the author of the libel, 'philo-free.' i beg, gentlemen, to return you my most grateful acknowledgments for the honour you have done me, and to assure you that this mark of your good will to me, in bearing your testimony to my conduct, will ever be held in the highest estimation by me; and i trust i shall retain to the latest moment of my life a grateful sense of your favour to me as an individual, and at the same time never forget the public service you rendered to this colony from the time you landed to the day of your departure, by your firmness and gentlemanly conduct, as british officers, and by your good and prudent example as members of the community." after these expressions of gratitude he turns aside to remark upon the former condition of the colony, and the services which the th regiment had rendered in the cause of virtue. proud as this regiment may justly be of honours won in far different scenes, it will not, we are assured, nor will its countrymen, regard with other feelings than those of high satisfaction, the following tribute to its moral worth and character. may every regiment in the british army deserve a similar eulogy from men who, like job of old, and we may add, like the chaplain of new south wales, 'know not to give flattering titles.' "when you first arrived in new south wales every barrier against licentiousness was broken down, every fence swept away. there were a few, and but a few, who resolved to stand their ground, and preserve that line of conduct which the wisest and best men consider essential as marking the distinction between the good and the evil." and again: "had you not arrived in new south wales and acted the honourable part you did, the few who were marked for future conquest would not have been able to have stood out longer, but must have either yielded to superior force, or have withdrawn from the colony. some would not have had strength of mind sufficient to have carried on a perpetual warfare against such an unequal force, and thus would not have been able to meet the expense of continued resistance. you just arrived in time to turn the wavering balance, and to inspire the desponding with hopes." a vote of thanks, in the most cordial terms, was also presented to him at the anniversary meeting of the church missionary society, at the freemasons' tavern, in . it would have been presented to the annual meeting of the previous year, but it was a mark of respect which had never yet been paid to any individual by the society. "the circumstances, however, which have lately transpired," so writes his friend, dr. mason good, who was a member of the committee, "the severe and important battle you have fought, and the triumph you have so gloriously achieved, have induced the society to step out of their usual routine on this occasion, and to show, not only to yourself, but to the world at large, the full sense they entertain of the honourable and upright part you have taken, and their unanimous determination to give you all their support. i agree with you most fully that your contest has not been a personal one, but that the important objects of the society have been at stake, and that the victory you have obtained is of more importance to the cause of virtue, honour, and true religion, and more especially to the cause of christian missions in australasia, than to yourself." we shall conclude our notice of these painful conflicts with two letters, the one from lord gambier, the other from the venerable simeon. the former breathes the warm heart of a sailor and the mature wisdom of an experienced christian. and thus while british soldiers were ready to acknowledge the integrity of mr. marsden, the navy, as represented by one of her great heroes, stood forward likewise in his behalf. "dear sir,--i was happy to hear of your health and welfare by your letters to me of the nd january and the th march, , which came to my hands in due time, though they were rather longer, i believe, in their passage than is usual. i deeply lament with you that your very zealous and arduous exertions to extend the kingdom of our gracious lord, and to diffuse the knowledge of the glorious gospel of salvation among the inhabitants of the dark regions around you, should meet with the spirit of opposition from the persons in the colony whom you naturally would look to for support and assistance. and very grievous indeed it is that you should stand almost alone and single in a work of charity that exceeds the praises of human language to express its excellence and blessed effects upon the race of mankind. mr. pratt will have informed you that a special meeting of the committee of the church missionary society was held last month for the sole purpose of deliberating upon the communication you have made to him of the state of the affairs of the society, and the disgraceful letter that appeared in the 'sydney gazette,' signed 'philo-free.' the result of the committee's consultation was, that your letters on this subject should be referred to the consideration of the vice-presidents of the society, requesting them to take such measures as they deemed most advisable to relieve you from the distressing and painful situation in which you were placed. i had the satisfaction of being present at the meeting of the vice-presidents; the bishop of gloucester and mr. wilberforce were of the number. mr. pratt was also present, and as he will communicate to you the judgment that we passed upon the occasion it is unnecessary for me to add anything thereto; but i cannot forbear to express to you the admiration i entertain of your conduct, your zeal, perseverance, and unremitted exertions in the blessed and glorious cause in which you are engaged. may our gracious lord be your shield; may his powerful arm protect you against all your adversaries, and enable you to overcome them all with the weapons of a christian warfare, meekness, patience, faith, and charity; and may he lay them all at your feet.! may his grace be sufficient for you, and give you strength to go on as you have done in his service, to the glory of his name and to the salvation of the heathen nations around! you have achieved great things in new zealand. may the seed you have sown there be like the grain of mustard, and grow to a large tree; and may you finally receive the bright reward of your labours, and have that blessing pronounced upon you, 'well done, good and faithful servant, enter thou into the joy of thy lord.' there is a fine field for missionary labours in new zealand, and i anticipate the happiest consequences to the race of men in that country from the establishment you have made among them, and i think it very probable that they will make more rapid progress in the knowledge and practice of christianity and civilization than any heathen nation to whom the gospel has been preached. may you live to see this verified! "with cordial and earnest wishes for your health and prosperity, i remain, dear sir, with sincere regard, "your faithful and humble friend and servant, "gambier." mr. simeon, of cambridge, wrote to him in the same strain of encouragement:-- "dec. , . "last summer i was at hull, and saw mr. scott and other of your friends and relatives. it was a joy to me to see how ardent was their love towards you. i commissioned mrs. scott to tell you, in general terms, that your character and cause were duly appreciated by the government and by the house of commons. i take for granted that mr. wilberforce has given you particulars. it was from him that i was enabled to declare the general result. "i am overwhelmed almost with work. eleven volumes will be out in the spring. the first six will make their appearance in less than a month; it is of the same nature as my former work, though distinct from it. it is on all the finest passages from genesis to revelation. it is entitled 'horæ homileticæ,' as being homilies for the assistance both of clergy and laity." in this age of "reformatories," when the treatment of our prisoners has become a popular question, it is impossible to read without deep interest such letters as the following. mr. marsden had taken up the cause of the degraded female prisoners in new south wales. mrs. fry in england hears of his benevolent exertions, and hastens to express her joy; and thus she writes to the prison-philanthropist of the southern world:-- "mildred's court, second month, th, . "respected friend,--i have received thy letters, one sent by deputy-commissary-general allan, and the other written some time before, but only arrived within a day or two of each other. i am sorry that i happened to be out when deputy-commissary-general allan called, but i hope soon to see him, and to consult with him as to the steps best to be taken to improve the condition of the female convicts in new south wales. much influence has already been used here, and the subject has been brought before the house of commons. i some time ago obtained a copy of thy letter to the governor of new south wales, and the information contained in it has been much spread in this country, and it is quite my opinion that some beneficial alterations will in time take place; but the present parliament being so soon to be dissolved, owing to the death of the king, i fear will retard their progress; but much is doing in this country, and i trust that much is likely to be done. many of us are deeply interested in the welfare of the poor convicts as to their situation here, and their voyage, and when they arrive in botany bay. and if life and ability be granted us, i trust that much will in time be accomplished; but all these things require patience and perseverance, which i hope we shall be endowed with, both here and on your side of the water. i am sorry thou hast had so many trials and discouragements in filling thy very important station, and i cannot help hoping and believing that thy labours will prove not to be in vain; and even if thou shouldst not fully see the fruit of thy labours, others, i trust, will reap the advantage of them, so that the words of scripture may be verified, 'that both he that soweth and he that reapeth may rejoice together.' i consider myself greatly obliged by thy valuable communications, and i think it would be very desirable that thou shouldst let us know exactly what sort of place is wanted for the women, and what would be its probable expense, as it would enable us more clearly to state what we wish for. and i should think our government would give the necessary directions to have the work done. i remain, etc., thy friend, elizabeth fry." through such toils and conflicts our predecessors of the last generation passed, before they could lay effectually the foundations of those great principles of humanity and justice in the public mind, which are now yielding their abundant fruit. chapter viii. tooi and teterree--mr. marsden's second voyage to new zealand--progress of the gospel there--shunghie--his ferocity--mr. marsden returns to new south wales--third voyage to new zealand--malicious charges brought against him in his absence--a commission of inquiry--its result--letters, etc.--approbation of the government. the new zealand mission still continued to occupy mr. marsden's thoughts. he seems to have been always alert, turning every hint to account, seizing every occasion and employing every likely instrument to promote the grand design. the excellent quality of the new zealand flax had not escaped him. he induced two young new zealanders, whom he had brought with him to paramatta, to visit england, which they did in h. m. ship kangaroo, and were placed under the care of his friends in london. "i wish on no account," he writes to mr. pratt, "that they should be idle; if they cannot be useful in forming a vocabulary, (of the maori language of which he was now anxious that a grammar should be prepared) let them be _put into a rope walk_, and be kept close to labour while they remain in england." they were both chieftains, tooi and teterree; still the reader must not suppose the rope walk was to them a degrading employment. mr. marsden had another object in view besides their improvement, and he wished to impart to his friends in london something of his own enthusiasm in behalf of the maorie race. "the society will see," he says in his letter to the secretary, mr. pratt, "from these two young men what the natives of new zealand are. they are prepared to receive any instruction that we can give them; they are fine young men, and in temper and natural parts very like their countrymen in general." they seem to have deserved the character here given them. we insert a letter from each, written while they were in england. the first is addressed to mr. pratt while tooi was on a visit amongst the manufactories of staffordshire and shropshire. "madeley, sept. , . "dear sir,--i am much obliged and thank you, mr. pratt, for the letter you sent me. i so pleased when mr. pratt finds a ship. i want a ship to go home. i have been to coalport. i made four cups. mr. rose tell me, 'you soon learn.' 'yes,' i say, 'very soon learn with fingers, but book very hard,' etc. "to mr. pratt. thomas tooi." the other letter is in a graver strain from teterree to mr. marsden. "church missionary house, october , . "my dear friend,--i like englishman much; he love new zealand man. i very sick in missionary house, and very near die; nothing but bone. kind friend missionary pray for me every night. "i kneel down in my bed-room every night, and pray to jesus christ our saviour to learn me to read the book. "very nice country england. i never see the king of england; he very poorly, and queen charlotte very poorly too. "i see the iron make, and bottle blow. tooi blow a bottle, and i blow a bottle. i make four cups at china work, etc. farewell, good friend. "teteree." their english education being completed, the young chieftains returned to paramatta, and mr. marsden embarked a second time for new zealand, taking tooi and teterree with him, with several missionaries, three mechanics and their families. they landed at rangheehoa, in the bay of islands, on the th august. the rival chiefs shunghie and koro-koro now contended for the site of the new missionary settlement which mr. marsden contemplated, each being anxious that his own domain should be preferred, and offering a grant of land. the spot was selected at kiddee kiddee (or keri-keri) a district in the territory of shunghie, at the head of a fine harbour; but such was the distress of the disappointed chieftain, whose part was taken by young tooi, that mr. marsden almost relented: "he made strong appeals to our feelings, and urged his request by every argument that he could advance, so that we were obliged to promise to accompany him on the next day to parroa, and that we would build him and tooi a house if the situation pleased us, and send one or two europeans to reside amongst them." the stores were now landed, and all the beach exhibited a scene of happiness and busy civilization; fourteen natives sawing timber, others cutting knees, etc.; "a sight more grateful to a benevolent mind could not possibly have been seen; our hearts overflowed with gratitude. we viewed the various operations with delight, and considered them the dawn of civil and religious liberty to this land of darkness, superstition, and cruelty." such were the comments which the missionary leader noted down at the time, and in reading them we are made to feel how much christian benevolence excels the mere selfishness of the most enterprising colonist. simply for the good of others, without the hope or wish of reaping any other advantage than that of extending the kingdom of god amongst a savage race, the little missionary band, self exiled, and consecrated to a life of unknown toil and hardship, exult in laying the foundations of their settlement, as the jews of old exulted when they began to build their temple to the living god. on the next sabbath day, the work was consecrated with prayer and praise. mr. marsden's simple language best describes the scene:-- "_august ._--we assembled on the beach for public worship, as there was no place sufficiently spacious to hold the people. we were surrounded with natives and a number of chiefs from different districts. "it was gratifying to be able to perform worship to the true god in the open air, without fear or danger, when surrounded by cannibals with their spears stuck in the ground, and their pattoo-pattoos and daggers concealed under their mats. we could not doubt but that the time was at hand for gathering in this noble people into the fold of christ. their misery is extreme, the prince of darkness has full dominion over their souls and bodies; under the influence of ignorance and superstition many devote themselves to death, and the chiefs sacrifice their slaves as a satisfaction for the death of any of their friends. this is a tyranny from which nothing but the gospel can set them free." [illustration: the bay of islands, new zealand.] during this three months' sojourn, besides the attention which mr. marsden gave to the missions in the bay of islands, he made a circuitous journey of seven hundred miles, exploring the country with a view to more extensive operations. his arrival over land and in health, at the bay of islands, on his return, relieved the minds of his anxious friends the missionaries, and "gave them additional cause," they say, "to bless and thank god for his protecting care, and that he had again heard and answered our supplications." "there is not one in ten thousand, i think," writes mr. hall, "who could or would have borne the privations, difficulties, and dangers, which he has undergone. i pray that he may reap the fruits of his labour by the new zealanders turning from their degraded state to serve the only living and true god." mr. marsden's journal of this second visit will be valuable in time to come, as perhaps the best record in existence of the character and habits of a wonderful people, on whom civilization had not yet dawned, and whose spiritual darkness was profound. he landed, during a coasting voyage, with young tooi, on the small island of motooroa. "the first object that struck my eye was a man's head stuck on a pole near the hut where we were to sleep; the face appeared beautifully tattooed; it was the head of a chief who was killed by shunghie's people. the sight," he says, "naturally excited feelings of horror in my breast." most men would have felt something of alarm. but mr. marsden seems to have been a perfect stranger to fear; and if courage, whether physical or moral, makes a hero, he must be ranked high in the heroic class. he merely adds, "this caused me to value more and more the blessing of divine revelation, and the blessing of civil government." in his journal on a tour to the river shukeangha, he writes thus: "_september , ._--after we had passed the swamp, we came into a very open country, for many miles round covered with fern. the part through which we walked was gravelly, and not very good in general. "the wind increased toward evening, and blew strong from the rainy quarter, so that we had the prospect of a very wet night, without a single tree to shelter us from the storm for about eight miles from the swamp we had passed. at this distance was a wood, through which our road lay, which we were anxious to reach, if possible, in order to shelter ourselves from the wind and rain. with this hope we pushed forward, and arrived at the edge of the wood about nine o'clock. the rain now began to fall heavily. the natives cut branches of fern and boughs of trees, and made us a little shed under the trees, to afford us some shelter. the blackness of the heavens, the gloomy darkness of the wood, the roaring of the wind among the trees, the sound of the falling rain on the thick foliage, united with the idea that we were literally at the ends of the earth, with relation to our native land, surrounded with cannibals whom we knew to have fed on human flesh, and wholly in their power, and yet our minds free from fear of danger--all this excited in my breast such new, pleasing, and, at the same time, opposite sensations, as i cannot describe. "while i sat musing under the shelter of a lofty pine, my thoughts were lost in wonder and surprise, in taking a view of the wisdom and goodness of god's providential care, which had attended all my steps to that very hour. if busy imagination inquired what i did there, i had no answer to seek in wild conjecture: i felt with gratitude that i had not come by chance; but had been sent to labour in preparing the way of the lord in this dreary wilderness, where the voice of joy and gladness had never been heard: and i could not but anticipate with joyful hope the period when the day-star from on high would dawn and shine on this dark and heathen land, and cause the very earth on which we then reposed to bring forth its increase, when god himself would give the poor inhabitants his blessing. after reflecting on the different ideas which crowded themselves upon my mind, i wrapped myself up in my great coat, and lay down to sleep." he visited an island where he met with a singular spectacle. a number of natives were at work, breaking up the ground with a sort of spatula, or wooden spade, to plant their sweet potato. amongst these was koro-koro's head wife, or queen. "her majesty was working hard with a wooden spade, digging the ground for potatoes, with several of the women and some men." the royal infant lay on the ground sprawling and kicking by her side; "the old queen earnestly requested that i would give her a hoe, showing me the difficulty she had in digging with a stick; a request with which i promised to comply." we leave the reader to admire at leisure the homeric simplicity of the scene, or to indulge in those sentiments of contemptuous pity to which englishmen are possibly more prone. in another place, he found the head wife of shunghie, though perfectly blind, digging in the same manner, surrounded by her women, and apparently with as much ease as the rest. the offer of a hoe in exchange for her spatula was accepted with joy. the scene drew forth these reflections: "when we viewed the wife of one of the most military chiefs, possessing large territories, digging with a spatula for her subsistence, this sight kindled within us the best feelings of the human heart. if a woman of this character, and blind, can thus labour with her servants, what will not this people rise to, if they can procure the means of improving their country, and of bettering their condition? their temporal state must be improved by agriculture and the simple arts, in connexion with the introduction of christianity, in order to give permanence and full influence to the gospel among them. our god and saviour, who is loving to every man, and whose tender mercies are over all his works, is now, blessed be his name, moving the hearts of his servants to send relief to the poor heathen, even to the very ends of the earth." the journal affords us repeated evidences of a phenomenon, which recent occurrences in india have at this moment deeply impressed on the heart of england,--one with which both divines and legislators ought to have been acquainted (for it is not obscurely referred to in the word of god), but which a foolish and spurious benevolence has led many to deny--namely, that the most satanic ferocity frequently lurks under gentle manners, and is even to be found in connexion with the warmest natural affection. nothing, for instance, can be more affecting than the meeting of tooi and his sister, after the absence of the former in england. tooi himself anticipated _a scene_, and half ashamed, when he saw his sister at a distance, tried to avoid the interview in public, and requested mr. marsden to order off the canoe in which they were approaching. but her love could not be restrained; in an instant she sprang into the boat, fell on her knees, and clung to tooi. he saluted her in return; when she gave vent to her feelings in tears and loud lamentations, which she continued for about an hour. "tooi conducted himself with great propriety, suppressing all his wild feelings, and at the same time treating his sister with all the soft and tender feelings of nature. i could not but view his conduct with admiration." when tooi was in england, he had been taught to read and write, and instructed in the doctrines of christianity; and he and his companion teterree were general favourites, from their gentle manners and quick intelligence. they were one day taken to st. paul's by mr. nicholas, who naturally supposed they would be lost in astonishment at the grandeur of the building, but they expressed neither surprise nor pleasure; on which that gentleman makes this just remark; "it is only things of common occurrence, i suspect, that strike the mind of a savage. the faculties must be cultivated to fit them for the enjoyment of the beautiful or the sublime." one thing, however, did strike them, and caused no small excitement. in walking up fleet-street, they suddenly stopped before a hair-dresser's shop, in the window of which were some female busts. they screamed out "wyenee! wyenee!" (women! women!) taking them for dried heads of the human subject. "i took some pains," adds their kind conductor, "to beat this notion out of them, lest they should tell their countrymen on their return that europeans preserved human heads as well as new zealanders." these bursts of feeling were, it seems, quite natural; intense sorrow or savage exultation, the extremes of tenderness and of brutality, were indulged by turns, without any suspicion on their part of insincerity in either. immediately after, mr. marsden mentions that he passed a canoe in which he recognised an old acquaintance, hooratookie, the first new zealander introduced into civil society--governor king having once entertained him with great kindness. hooratookie was grateful; spoke of the governor's daughter, then a child, with unfeigned regard, calling her by her christian name, maria. but looking into his large war-canoe, capable of holding from sixty to eighty men, with provisions, mr. marsden observed on the stern the dried head of a chief. "the face was as natural as life, the hair was long, and every lock combed straight, and the whole brought up to the crown, tied in a knot, and ornamented with feathers, according to the custom of the chiefs when in full dress. it was placed there as an incentive to revenge. it is possible the death of this chief may be revenged by his children's children; hence the foundation is laid for new acts of cruelty and blood from generation to generation." mr. marsden's fame now preceded him, and wherever he went, he was received not with rude hospitality, but with courteous respect. one chieftain offered up an ovation and prayer on their arrival. "he invoked the heavens above and the earth beneath to render our visit advantageous to his people, and agreeable to us, and that no harm may happen to us, whom he esteemed as the gods of another country. we heard the profane adulations with silent grief, and could not but wish most ardently for the light of divine truth to shine on such a dark and superstitious mind." yet this man was a ferocious cannibal; and when mr. marsden expressed his anxiety for the safety of the missionaries after he should have left them, he was calmed by the assurance that, as we had done them no harm, they had no satisfaction to demand, "and that as for eating us, the flesh of a new zealander was sweeter than that of an european, in consequence of the white people eating so much salt." from this the conversation turned to that of eating human flesh, which they defended with arguments which to them appeared, no doubt, perfectly conclusive. they alleged that fishes, animals, and birds, preyed upon each other; and that one god would devour another god, therefore there was in nature sufficient warrant for the practice. shunghie explained how it was the gods preyed on each other, "and that when he was to the southward, and had killed a number of people and was afraid of their god, he caught their god, being a reptile, and ate part of it, and reserved the remainder for his friends." shunghie, the greatest of new zealand warriors, was at the same time a striking instance of that union of gentleness and ferocity which characterized this people. to the missionaries his kindness was always great, and his respect for mr. marsden knew no bounds. an instance of his good feeling may here be noticed. in the beginning of , a naval expedition, under his command, sailed from the bay of islands. it consisted of thirty canoes, and about eight hundred men. its object was to obtain peace with his enemies at the north cape. the chief took an affectionate leave of the settlers, and told them that if he fell they must be kind to his children; and if he survived, he would take care of their families when they should die. the expedition returned, however, in about a fortnight, his people having quarrelled with those of wangaroa, into which place they had put for refreshment; and being afraid, he said, that the wangaroa people would attack the settlers in his absence, he, for the present, abandoned the expedition. shunghie was again preparing for war when mr. marsden paid his second visit to new zealand; his army, to the number of several thousand men, were already assembled; his war-canoes were ready, and all his preparations complete; yet in deference to the remonstrances of mr. marsden, he again abandoned his scheme of conquest or revenge, and dismissed his followers. shunghie paid a visit to england about the year . his majestic person, graceful manners, and gentle yet manly disposition were much admired. he was one of nature's nobles; what might not be expected from such a man when he returned home again? george the fourth invited him to carlton palace, and received him with marked attention, presenting him with some military accoutrements and costly fire-arms. yet the heart of a savage never ceased to beat beneath this polished exterior, while his pride was fanned to madness by the consideration he received in england. "there is," he exclaimed, "but one king in england; there shall be only one king in new zealand." returning by way of sydney he there happened to meet with inacki, another chief, with whom he had an ancient feud. he told him that when they got back to new zealand he would fight him. inacki accepted the challenge, and shunghie accordingly assembled, on his return to new zealand, no fewer than two thousand men to attack inacki. the latter was prepared to receive him, and for some time the event of the battle that ensued was doubtful. at length shunghie, who had the greatest number of muskets, and who had arranged his men in the form called, in roman tactics, the cuneus, or wedge, placing himself at the apex and directing those behind him to wheel round the enemy, from the right and left, or to fall back into their original position as opportunity offered, shot inacki. the savage shunghie immediately sprang forward, scooped out the eye of the dying man with his knife, and swallowed it; and then, holding his hands to his throat, into which he had plunged his knife, and from which the blood flowed copiously, drank as much of the horrid beverage as the two hands could hold. amongst the horrible superstitions of the maories, one was that the eye of a victim thus devoured became a star in the firmament, and thus the ferocious shunghie sought for honour and immortality. with the sword which he had received as a present from king george in england, he immediately cut off the heads of sixteen of his captives in cold blood; this was done to appease the spirit of his son-in-law, who had fallen in battle. in this battle, shunghie and his tribe were armed with muskets, his opponents only with the native weapons, the club and spear. his victory, therefore, was an easy one, but his revenge was cruel. a new zealand traveller, who visited the spot in , says: "the bones of two thousand men still lie whitening on the plain, and the ovens remain in which the flesh of the slaughtered was cooked for the horrible repasts of the victorious party, and yet so numerous were the slaves taken prisoners that the nga-puis (the tribe of which shunghie was the head) killed many of them on their way to the bay of islands merely to get rid of them."[i] such was the gentle shunghie when his viler nature was let loose--a frightful specimen of human nature, varnished by education, but unvisited by the grace of god. we turn aside for a moment to describe a scene in bright contrast with these revolting details. amongst the few who escaped the general slaughter was koromona, a chief who became blind soon afterwards, but hearing archdeacon w. williams preach at matamata, was converted. "for the last four years," says the traveller above mentioned, "koromona has been a native teacher, and may be seen every sabbath day with his class instructing them in the truths of the scripture with an earnestness which is truly admirable; he is now about to start to preach christianity to a tribe which has not yet received it. his memory is wonderful; he knows the whole of the church service by heart, and repeats hymns and many long chapters verbatim." thus the gospel won its victorious way, and proved itself triumphant over hearts no less depraved and passions no less degraded than those of shunghie himself. no earthly power could have effected such a change; it was wrought by that "gospel" which is truly "the power of god unto salvation to every one that believeth." [i] savage life and scenes in australia and new zealand. by george french angas, london, . amidst such scenes the missionaries dwelt in peace. war, and its inseparable and more hideous companion, cannibalism, showed themselves at their gates, but were not allowed to hurt them. under the good providence of god, their security was owing, in a great measure, to the prudence and courage with which mr. marsden planned and carried out his projects. himself a stranger to fear, he infused courage into those around him, and both he and they felt secure under the shield and buckler of the almighty. no doubt the fearlessness of mr. marsden won the admiration of these savages and contributed not a little to his safety. his journal abounds in instances such as that which follows. the scene is in a maori village, and the writer is surrounded with cannibals. "after conversing on several subjects, we had supper, sung a hymn, and then committed ourselves to the angel of the everlasting covenant, and so lay down to rest; a number of the natives lay around the hut and some within. i slept well until daybreak, being weary with walking." he appears to have arrived at home, after this second visit to new zealand, towards the close of november, . in february, , he was once more on his way back to new zealand. his letters bear ample testimony to a fact which all who were acquainted with him in private life observed, that his heart was full of affection, and that his home was the scene of his greatest happiness. he had not returned, it is true, to be greeted with public honours; on the contrary, he was still a marked man. the governor and many of the leading men in the colony were prejudiced against him. we believe it is to this period of his life that an anecdote which we give on the best possible authority belongs. the governor had consented to his recent visit to new zealand with reluctance, and had limited the period of his absence with military precision, threatening at the same time to deprive him of his chaplaincy unless he returned within the given time. the last day arrived, and the expected vessel was not in sight. the governor repeated his determination to those around him, and mr. marsden's friends were filled with anxiety, and his wife and family at length gave up all hope. towards evening the long-wished-for sail appeared in the offing, and at eight o'clock in the evening mr. marsden quietly walked into the governor's drawing-room with the laconic and yet respectful address, "sir, i am here to report myself." but within the bosom of his family all was peace, and his presence shed light and joy on everything around him. his circumstances were prosperous--for his farm, which was almost entirely committed to mrs. marsden's care, was now a source of considerable income; his children were growing up to manhood under their parents' roof; his circle of friends and visitors was large, for there were no bounds to his simple hospitality; and the clergy of the colony, men like minded with himself, had now begun to regard him not only with affection, but with the reverence which belongs to years and wisdom and wide experience. yet at the call of duty this veteran was ready, on the shortest notice, to resume a life of such toil and hardship as nothing could have rendered welcome, its novelty once over, but motives the most solemn and commanding. h.m.s. dromedary, captain skinner, was directed by government to proceed from sydney to the bay of islands to receive a cargo of new zealand timber for trial in the dockyards of england; and sir byam martin, controller of the navy, knowing something of the energy of mr. marsden's character, and his great acquaintance with new zealand, requested that he would accompany the dromedary, which was joined by the coromandel, in order to facilitate the object of their visit. with this request he felt it his duty to comply. he arrived in new zealand on the th of february, and embarked on board the dromedary to return on the th of november. thus nearly the whole year was given to the service of new zealand. the time was not lost. on his arrival, a difficulty occurred which he only could have set at rest. the natives had come to the determination to exchange nothing, nor to do any kind of work, except for muskets and powder. his first business was to assemble the few european settlers, the advanced guard of that mighty band of european colonists which was soon to follow, and to persuade them not on any account to supply the natives with these weapons of war, in their hands so sure a source of mischief. with regard to the duty of the missionaries there could be no doubt; and this he explained to all the powerful chiefs. they had come among them to preach the gospel of peace, how then could they be expected to furnish the means and implements of destruction? in writing to the missionary society at home he says, and he must have written such a sentence with an aching heart, "i think it much more to the honour of religion and the good of new zealand even to give up the mission for the present, than to trade with the natives in those articles." after a short time spent in the bay of islands, at the mission, he proceeded, sometimes in company with europeans, but for the most part alone, upon a tour of many hundred miles through regions yet untrodden by the foot of civilized men, mingling with the native tribes, accompanying them in their wanderings from place to place, teaching the first lessons of civilization and gospel truth, and receiving everywhere from these savages the kindest attention and the most hospitable welcome in return. on their way to tourangha, he writes, under the date of june : "the day was far spent when we reached the plain. we walked on till the sun was nearly set, when we stopped and prepared for the night. the servants, who had the provisions to carry, were very tired. there were no huts on the plain, nor any inhabitants, and we were therefore compelled to take up our lodging in the open air. i was very weary, having had no rest the preceding night; and having come a long day's journey, so that i felt that rest would be very acceptable, even on a heap of fern or anything else. "the peculiar scene that surrounded me, furnished the mind with new matter for contemplation on the works and ways of god. the mystery of his providence, and the still greater mystery of his grace, were all unsearchable to me. i had come from a distant country, and was then at the ends of the earth, a solitary individual, resting on an extensive wild, upon which no civilized foot had ever before trodden. my companions were poor savages, who nevertheless vied with each other in their attentions to me. i could not but feel attached to them. what would i have given to have had the book of life opened, which was yet a sealed book to them,--to have shown them that god who made them, and to have led them to calvary's mount, that they may see the redeemer who had shed his precious blood for the redemption of the world, and was there set up as an ensign for the nations. but it was not in my power to take the veil from their hearts, i could only pray for them, and entreat the father of mercies to visit them with his salvation. i felt very grateful that a divine revelation had been granted to me; that i knew the son of god had come, and believed that he had made a full and sufficient sacrifice or atonement for the sins of a guilty world. with compassionate feelings for my companions, under a grateful sense of my own mercies, i lay down to rest, free from all fear of danger." it was during this tour that the following letter was addressed to the lady of his excellent friend dr. mason good. it is long, but the reader will scarcely wish that it had been shorter. let it stand on record as an evidence of the power of true religion in maintaining amidst the rudest scenes, and the rough warfare of an adventurous life, all the gentleness and affection of the most refined and polished society of a christian land. "new zealand, sept. , . "dear madam,--your kind favour arrived in the bay of islands september , the evening i returned from a long journey. i had no sooner cast my eye over your letter, than busy imagination transported me from the solitary woods, dreary wastes, and savage society of new zealand, into 'the polished corner' of guilford-street, and surrounded me with every cordial that could refresh the weary traveller, revive the fainting spirits, and blow the languishing spark of christian love with a heavenly flame. i had literally been living for weeks a savage life, as far as outward circumstances went. i ate, i slept in the thick wood, in a cave, or on the banks of a river, or sea, with my native companions, wherever the shadows of the evening, or gathering storm compelled us to seek for shelter. every day as i advanced from tribe to tribe, i was introduced to new acquaintances; my object was to gain from observation and experience that knowledge of savage life which i could not learn from books, and to make myself well acquainted with the wants, wishes, and character of the native inhabitants, to enable me, if my life should be spared, to aid to the utmost of my power in their deliverance from their present temporal miseries, which are great upon them, and from their much sorer bondage to the prince of darkness. i am happy in having obtained this object to a certain extent, at the expense of a few temporal privations, and a little bodily evil. when i have lain down upon the ground after a weary day's journey, wrapped up in my great coat, surrounded only by cannibals, i often thought how many thousands are there in civil life, languishing upon beds of down, and saying, with job, 'in the evening would god it were morning,' while i could sleep free from fear or pain, far remote from civil society under the guardian care of him who keepeth israel. though i everywhere met with the greatest kindness from the natives, as well as hospitality, for they always gave me the best fern-root, potato, or fish in their possession, yet i could never have duly estimated the sweets of civil life, and the still greater mental gratification of christian communion, if i had not passed through these dark regions of satan's dominions, on which the dayspring from on high hath never cast a single ray. you cannot conceive how great a feast your letter was, after so long a fast. i was instantly present with every person you mentioned, and lived over again some of those happy moments i once spent under your hospitable roof. a sacred warmth flowed round my soul, my heart was sweetly melted under the influence of that pure and undefiled religion which dropped from your pen, like the heavenly dew, as it ran through every line. what shall we call those pure sensations that thus warm and captivate the soul? do they flow from the communion of saints, or at these delightful moments does some invisible seraph touch our lips with a live coal from god's altar? if you have ever experienced similar feelings, their recollection will explain more fully my meaning than my words can express. when these lines meet your eye, may they find your soul rapt up to the third heaven! but to where am i now wandering? the veil of the flesh is not now rent, we have not yet entered into the holy of holies. though god has given you and your seed the land of goshen, and you have light continually in your dwelling, yet you are still in egypt, while i am constrained to dwell in mesech, and to dwell in these remote and dark tents of kedar. but, my dear madam, seas and continents will not long separate the people of god. i humbly hope the day is at no great distance, when we shall join the spirits of just men made perfect. at present you abound with blessings.... jacob often thought of bethel, and when in his afflictions he seemed to have forgotten that sacred spot, god said unto him, 'arise and go to bethel, and dwell there.' it will always be safest for us to dwell also at bethel. i must now close, as my paper is nearly full, and your patience must also be tired when it comes to your turn to read what i have written. "remember me to your sister, mrs. skinner. tell mr. good i received his last letter, and will answer it at a more convenient season. i was on my passage to port jackson in a small schooner, but adverse winds drove me back almost dead with sea-sickness. i have been here since february last, and when i shall get home i am uncertain; i venture no more in the schooner. mrs. m. wants me back, as she has much upon her hands. it gave me great satisfaction to hear my son had arrived safe. i knew your kindness would far exceed my wishes. i will endeavour, as far as able, to pay all my debts when i see mr. good and you face to face; till then you must give me credit, and if i do not pay you, you will be sure to receive both principal and interest in the resurrection of the just. "i remain, dear madam, "yours, in the bonds of christian love, "samuel marsden." the immediate object of his visit being accomplished, he returned to sydney, where a strange reception awaited him. governor macquarie had sent to lord bathurst a despatch in answer to the statements of the senior chaplain, already noticed, in which he brought heavy charges against the latter, which deeply affected his character, not only as a magistrate, but as a christian man and a minister. the office of a magistrate he had been compelled to undertake in common with the other clergy of the colony, who were all included in the commission of the peace. for this there was no justification except hard necessity. mr. marsden, however, had long been weary of the irksome task, and had once and again requested the governor to accept his resignation. this the governor had expressly declined to do, on the ground that "his services as a magistrate were too beneficial to the public;" but in fact, it would seem, only that he might have the opportunity of inflicting upon him the annoyance of a formal dismissal, which was shortly afterwards notified in the "sydney gazette." lord bathurst, in consequence of the governor's despatch, determined upon a step which gave great satisfaction to mr. marsden's friends at home, and sent out a commissioner to investigate upon the spot the truth of these and various other matters affecting the state of the colony, which had now obtained public notoriety, and had already engaged the attention of the british parliament; and commissioner bigge arrived during mr. marsden's absence to manage the inquiry. on his return we find him seeking a public and searching examination of his whole conduct. addressing a letter to the commissioner, he says: "i am happy to meet every charge that can be brought against me. i have no wish to do more than set my character right in the opinion of his majesty's government and in that of the christian world; and i am unfeignedly thankful to you for the fair opportunity you afford me to justify my public and private conduct." among the many charges brought before the commission of inquiry was that already preferred against mr. marsden by the governor in his despatch to lord bathurst, namely, that he had been guilty of extraordinary severity as a magistrate. another, scarcely consistent with the first, was, that more profligacy and depravity were to be found amongst the convicts of paramatta than in any other district, and that this was owing to the neglect of the senior chaplain. perhaps it would have been impossible to have brought forward any two charges of a more painful nature. happily the first was easily disproved, or rather it fell at once to the ground for want of proof. the second was the more cruel, because, while the facts bore out the statement, mr. marsden was the only public man in the colony who was not guilty, by his silence at least, to some extent of the iniquities which the governor affected to deplore. paramatta was, in fact, the receptacle of the most hardened and depraved of the convict class; it received the sweepings of the jails in every district. there were nearly two hundred women and seven hundred male convicts there, while the factory was so small as not to be able to contain more than sixty women, and the remainder were obliged to find lodging for themselves or to sleep in the open fields. this was mr. marsden's answer to the commissioner; it was a repetition of the remonstrance which he alone had had the courage, two years before, to present to the governor, and then to remit home to england. thus he found himself arraigned as the cause of those very evils--evils, too, lying at his own door--which he had obtained so much obloquy for attempting to remove. the reflection is a trite one, but it will bear to be repeated, that the christian philanthropist must look for his recompense in heaven, and not from man. "if when ye do well and suffer for it, ye take it patiently, this is acceptable with god, for even hereunto were ye called." a third charge was that he had squandered public money in building the female orphan house. he showed, however, on his defence, that the lieutenant-governor, judge-advocate, and others, who formed the committee, had examined the accounts and passed them every quarter, and that the governor had himself afterwards approved of them, and published them in the "sydney gazette" three years before the charge was made. it now appeared further that mr. marsden had advanced largely to the institution; to the amount indeed of more than eight hundred pounds, for the mere cost of the building; "and this," he says, "must have been known to the governor, as i was obliged to apply to him for repayment for some of these sums, and received an answer that he could not assist me." such are some of the trials which they must learn to encounter who would be brave and fearless soldiers of the cross. they must expect to have their motives censured, their tempers blamed, their actions misconstrued, sometimes by men as good, or, at least, as honest as themselves. governor macquarie left the impression of his genius upon the youthful institutions of australia, where his memory is still honoured as that of a great man; yet his conduct to mr. marsden was oppressive and unjust. it is consoling to know that there had been nothing in the personal conduct of the latter unworthy of his sacred calling. the commissioner, in the conclusion of the investigation, inserts, for mr. marsden's information, the governor's testimonial of his character, which, considering the charges brought against him, certainly does go far to prove that misapprehension and exasperated feelings had betrayed his excellency into a warmth and precipitancy of which, in moments of less irritation, he felt ashamed. "the governor admits that mr. marsden's manner to him has been constantly civil and accommodating, and that nothing in his manner could provoke the governor's warmth. the governor admits his qualifications, his activity, and his unremitting vigilance as a magistrate, and in society his cheerful disposition and readiness to please." while this inquiry was pending at sydney, the governor addressed a letter to lord sidmouth, and published it in england. it was a defence of his own line of policy against various attacks which had been made against it in the house of commons by the hon. h. grey bennett and others. in the course of his defence, the governor not only ridiculed mr. marsden's letter on the necessity of a female factory, and his account of the melancholy condition of the convict women, but charges him with being himself accustomed to traffic in spirituous liquors, and in consequence of being displeased at having so many public-houses in his neighbourhood. malicious, and absurd as the accusation was, carrying with it its own refutation, it found some who were weak or wicked enough to believe, or however to repeat it. it was revived in the colony, and republished in one of the sydney newspapers after mr. marsden's death. such is the tenacity of slander. "only throw mud enough," says the eloquent mr. burke, "and some of it will be sure to stick." mr. marsden felt his character so seriously compromised that he wrote home to the minister in self-defence, and also addressed a statement of the case to the new governor, sir thomas brisbane. after showing the absurdity, and indeed the impossibility, of the charge, since, in the first place, the governor himself had granted a monopoly to certain contractors to purchase and land all spirits brought to the colony, and that in the second he had no licence, he adds: "such is the watchful eye that was kept upon my whole conduct by night and by day, if i had been guilty of that or any other impropriety, it would have been impossible for me to have escaped detection." so far as any pretence of truth could have been urged in support of this foul slander, namely that "he kept a public-house for the sale of ardent spirits, selling them in any quantity from a pint to a puncheon," it may be stated in his own words: "in the infancy of the colony, previously to my arrival, barter was established among all classes from the governor downwards. as there was neither beer nor milk, tea nor sugar, to be purchased at any price, wine and spirits became the medium of exchange. as the colony progressively advanced in agriculture, commerce, and wealth, barter gradually decreased, and money transactions became more general. i can affirm that for the last eighteen years i have not had in my possession as much spirits as would allow my servants half a pint a head per week. and at no period of my residence did i ever purchase spirits for sale."[j] [j] rations of spirits, as in the navy, would seem at this time to have been regularly served out to the servants and labourers in the colony. these were not the only troubles through which he was called to pass. but enough has been said both to explain the difficulties in which mr. marsden was placed and to clear his character from the vile aspersions cast upon it. it is with pleasure that we turn from these false and disgraceful charges to follow him in those christian and philanthropic pursuits which have given splendour to his name. on the arrival of sir thomas brisbane, in , to assume the government of new south wales, mr. marsden immediately waited upon him, when he received the assurance of his countenance and support, not only as a colonial chaplain, but as the representative of the great missionary work going forward in new zealand. such encouragement was opportune; he thanked god and took courage; for the difficulties were great, and from time to time grievous disappointments and vexations had occurred. it was about this time that the seminary at paramatta, for the education of new zealanders, was abandoned. it had its origin with mr. marsden, and was conducted for some time in his own house. it was indeed one of his most favourite plans, and its failure was a severe disappointment. it was found, however, that the change of habits and of climate was injurious to the health of the new zealanders, while the results were not always such as might have been desired. but nothing could damp his ardent zeal, or quench his spirit of enterprise. "i see," he says, writing to his friends at home, "the way preparing for the spread of the gospel. i feel the fullest conviction that the south sea islands will now receive the blessing of civilization and the gospel. the work is great, and many difficulties may oppose it. the foundation is now firmly laid, and no power on earth can overturn it. to impart these blessings to the new zealanders is an object worthy of the british nation: a more noble undertaking could not be suggested to the christian world." this at least was not the mere declamation of the platform, but the deliberate expression of the views of one who had toiled and suffered in the cause for twenty years, and had scarcely been cheered, at present, with the sight of a single new zealand convert. "here," at least, "is the patience of the saints." his home duties were not neglected; nor was his the easy philanthropy which overlooks the humble claims of the rustic flock or obscure parish, while it stalks abroad on some heroic enterprise which may feed the vanity, while it satisfies the conscience, of the actor. through his exertions paramatta had now its association in behalf of the bible society, which already collected funds for the parent society in england. an early report from this institution contains a remarkable account of his visits to the sick bed of a young woman, whose experience beautifully illustrates the text, that the scripture "is able to make us wise unto salvation through faith which is in christ jesus." it brings the writer also before us incidentally as a spiritual pastor and an enlightened minister of christ. "some time ago," says mr. marsden, "i was called on to visit a young woman, about twenty years of age, in one of our districts, who was extremely ill, and who wished very much to see me before she died. on my arrival at her father's house, i found her heavily afflicted, and death appeared to be at no great distance. i sat by her bedside with the bible in my hand; expecting to find her, as i have but too often found others in similar circumstances, ignorant of the first principles of religion. "i read a portion of this sacred book to her, and was most agreeably surprised to find that she not only understood the letter but the spirit of the scriptures. "i asked her father how she became so well acquainted with the scriptures: he said he did not know--she was always reading her bible at every opportunity, and sometimes sat up whole nights for that purpose. he observed, she was a very dutiful daughter: he had a large family, and she, being the eldest, and very industrious, was of great service to her mother and the younger branches of the family; the only indulgence which she desired was to be allowed to read the bible when her work was done; but he could not account for her attachment to it; and it seemed very strange to him that she should attend to it so much. i asked him if she was in the habit of going to church, as i did not personally know her. he said she went sometimes, but was generally prevented, from the distance and the large family which she had to attend to. "this young woman may be said to have obtained her religion wholly from the bible. none of the family knew anything of the bible but herself. i visited her during the whole of her sickness, from the time she sent for me, until she fell asleep in jesus. her faith was simple, her views of the way of salvation clear. she gave me many proofs of this, in the various conversations which i had with her during her sickness. the bible was more precious to her than gold; she had found it, under the influence of the divine spirit, her counsellor and her guide, and by it she had been brought to a knowledge of the only true god, and jesus christ whom he had sent; and hereby she was filled with a hope full of immortality. previously to her last sickness, she had enjoyed good health: it was in the prime of youth and vigour that she had read her bible, and loved it, so that she had not to seek god, for the first time, in this trying moment; but found him a present help in sickness and in the approach of death. the bible had testified of christ to her: she had found eternal life revealed therein; and the divine promises were both great and precious to her soul." such instances of faith, and of the happy effects of a simple reliance upon the atonement, were at that time of rare occurrence in the colony. instances of conversion simply from the reading of the scriptures are not perhaps so rare as we generally suppose. lieutenant sadleir, who himself resided at paramatta, has remarked upon this occurrence: "it is gratifying to the reflecting mind to observe such glimmerings of light in the midst of so much darkness. although found in obscurity and in the cottage of the peasant, it proved that there were some who had not bowed the knee to the baal of universal licentiousness." mr. marsden's anxiety for the female convicts was not to be abated by ridicule or opposition. we find him, in august, , addressing a letter to dr. douglas, the police magistrate of paramatta, on their behalf. some of the sentiments are beautifully touching. the substance of the plea on their behalf is "that these poor creatures, who are confined in the penitentiary, and who have committed no offence in these settlements, be allowed the privilege of attending at least once on the sabbath day on public worship." the request was surely reasonable, and in urging it he rises to a pathetic eloquence: "there is no nation under the heavens in whose bosom the wretched and unfortunate finds so warm a reception as in our own. the unhappy situation of the female convicts during their confinement in the different jails in the empire interests the best feelings of the human heart. they are instructed by the counsels of the wise, consoled by the prayers of the pious, softened by the tears of the compassionate, and relieved by the alms of the benevolent. the noble senator does not pass over their crimes and their punishments unnoticed; he is anxious for the prevention of the former, and the mitigation of the latter; nor does the wise politician consider them beneath his care." he then speaks with natural exultation of "the watchful eye with which the british government provides for their wants and conveniences during their voyage to new south wales, even more liberally than for the brave soldiers and sailors who have fought the battles of their country, and never violated its laws;" and then follows a sentence which leaves us uncertain whether more to admire his patriotism or the gentleness of his nature and the warmth of his heart: "this apparently singular conduct may seem as if the british government wished to encourage crime and afterwards reward it; but upon a nearer view this principle of action will be found to spring spontaneously from virtue, from that inherent, laudable, christian compassion and anxiety, which the father of the prodigal felt for his lost son, which kept alive the spark of hope that he might one day return to his father's house and be happy. this parable of our blessed saviour's most beautifully exhibits the character of the british nation towards her prodigal sons and daughters, and is more honourable to her than all the victories she has achieved by sea and land." the welfare of the female convict population lay near to mr. marsden's heart; scarcely his beloved new zealanders and their missions engaged more of his affection. his plans for the improvement of their temporal condition, and his incessant labours for their spiritual welfare, occupied no small portion of his time and thoughts; and there is good reason to believe that his labours amongst these outcasts were not "in vain in the lord." standing, as we should have thought, himself in need of encouragement, he stimulated the languid zeal of others. mrs. fry and other philanthropists were now engaged in their great work of amending our prison discipline at home. we have inserted a letter from that excellent lady to mr. marsden. his answer to it must have cheered her spirits amidst the many disheartening toils to which she was exposed. "the wellington had just arrived when," he says, "i went on board, and was highly gratified with the order which appears to have been maintained in that vessel. i could not have conceived that any ship could have been fitted up to have afforded such accommodation to the unfortunate female exiles as the wellington was. all the women looked clean, healthy, and well. they had not that low, vicious, squalid, dirty look which the women at former periods have had when they first arrived. i believe there has been very great attention paid by the master and surgeon to their morals and comfort, in every possible way. the very sight of the arrangements of the vessel showed that the humane and benevolent wishes of the christian world had been carried into effect, and proved beyond all contradiction that order and morality can be maintained upon so long a voyage in a female convict ship.... the present inquiry into the state of this colony, before the committee of the house of commons, will greatly benefit this country. i can speak from painful experience that for the last twenty-six years, it has been the most immoral, wretched society in all the christian world. those who are intimate with the miseries and vices of large jails alone can form any idea of the colony of new south wales. i know what newgate was when i was in london, in the years and . i was then in the habit of seeing that miserable abode of vice and woe. what has since been done in newgate may be done elsewhere, if suitable means are adopted by those in authority, seconded by individual exertions; much might be done in these colonies towards restoring the poor exiles to society, with the countenance and support of the government. great evils are not removed without great difficulties. when i visited the wellington, i saw much had been done in england, and more than i could have credited, had i not been an eye witness of the situation of the females." sir thomas brisbane, the new governor, was not slow to perceive the worth of services such as those which mr. marsden had rendered to the colony, and pressed him to accept once more the office of a magistrate. in reference to this, "i wish," says mr. marsden, in a letter to dr. mason good, "to avoid the office if i can; but i fear it will not be in my power, without giving offence. the judges as well as the public and the magistrates have urged me to take the bench at the present time." in the same letter, he adds: "i feel happy that i have stood firm against all calumnies and reproaches, and have been the instrument of bringing to light the abominations that have been committed here: and some of the evils are already remedied." the friends of religion and virtue in england could not fail to sympathize with him, being well assured that substantially he was fighting the cause of true piety and equal justice, against profligacy and oppression. mr. wilberforce wrote to him in the year , with his usual warm affection:-- "though i may be a somewhat doubtful and unfrequent correspondent, i am not an uncertain friend; and where good will, as in your instance, is grounded on early esteem, and cemented by the consciousness of having many mutual friends, i should be ashamed if that should suffer any decay from the impression not being often renewed. it was with no small concern that i heard that anything unpleasant had occurred. i had meant to endeavour to obtain a sight of any letters or papers to our common friends, and to have consulted with them whether any, and if any, what measures, could be taken for the benefit of your colony, or in your own support, which, without a compliment, i hold to be in a degree coincident.... and now, my dear sir, farewell: but i ought not to conclude without congratulating you on the progressive advancement, as i trust, of the religious and moral interests of your australian world, and begging that you will always inform me unreservedly whenever you conceive i can be of use publicly, or to yourself personally. "i remain, with much esteem and regard, "my dear sir, "your sincere friend, "w. wilberforce." the report of commissioner bigge was made public soon afterwards; and with it the clouds which had gathered so long around the chaplain of paramatta were at last dispersed. he was too prominent a mark not to be again assailed. always in the front of the battle when the oppressed required protection, or evil doers in high positions his bold assaults, it was not in the nature of things that he should lead a very quiet life. his calling was peculiar; so were his talents; and the latter were admirably fitted for the former. but for the present his triumph was complete, and the government at home appreciated his faithful service. the document which follows requires no further comment. it was not received till some time had elapsed, but we insert it here as a fitting conclusion to the chapter:-- "private secretary's office, sydney, th april, . "reverend sir,--i have the honour to acquaint you, by command of his excellency the governor, that earl bathurst, having taken into consideration your long and useful services in the colony of new south wales, has determined upon increasing your stipend to the sum of four hundred pounds sterling, per annum. "i have further the pleasing satisfaction of coupling with it his lordship's instructions to the governor, to acquaint you that it has been done in consideration of your long, laborious, and praiseworthy exertions in behalf of religion and morality. "i have the honour to be, reverend sir, "your obedient servant, "john ovens, _private secretary._ "to the rev. samuel marsden, principal chaplain." chapter ix. fourth visit to new zealand--trials and successes of the various missions--shipwreck and danger of mr. marsden and the rev. s. leigh--returns home--letter to avison terry, esq. in july, , we find mr. marsden again taking ship and embarking for new zealand; his intention being to visit the stations of the church missionary society, and to arrange its affairs. since his last visit fresh causes for anxiety had appeared. in consequence of shunghie's misconduct, the natives were now alienated from the missionaries; they had become indifferent to education and agricultural improvements; and the gospel, it was too evident, had made little progress hitherto. shunghie declared that as to himself, "he wanted his children to learn to fight and not to read." the maories about the settlement insisted upon being paid for their services in fire-arms and ammunition. "since shunghie's return," writes one of the missionaries, "the natives, one and all, have treated us with contempt. they are almost past bearing; coming into our houses when they please, demanding food, thieving whatever they can lay their hands on, breaking down our garden fences, stripping the ship's boats of everything they can. they seem, in fact, ripe for any mischief; had mr. marsden himself been amongst us, much as he deserves their esteem, i believe he would not escape without insult; but the lord is a very present help in time of trouble." amongst the missionaries themselves certain evils had appeared, the growth of a secular and commercial spirit, which had injured their cause, and threatened to frustrate the great end for which the mission was projected. mr. marsden heard of these untoward events, and hastened his departure, full of anxiety, but not abating one jot of his confidence in the final triumph of god's cause. what his feelings were his own journal testifies:-- "i am still confident that this land of darkness and superstition will be visited by the day-star from on high. the glory of the lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together, for the mouth of the lord has spoken it. o lord, let thy kingdom come; thy will be done on earth as it is done in heaven. i have suffered so much annoyance and persecution for some time past, from unreasonable and wicked men, that i am happy in leaving the colony for a little time, in which i have experienced so much annoyance. in reflecting upon the state of new zealand there are many things which give me both pleasure and pain. i am happy the church missionary society has not relinquished the cause, but have sent out more strength to carry on the work. many have been the discouragements from the misconduct of some of the servants of the society; but i am confident that the sword of the spirit, which is the word of god, will in time subdue the hearts of these poor people to the obedience of faith." he was accompanied on his voyage by the reverend henry williams and his family, who now went out to strengthen the new zealand mission, of which he soon became one of the most effective leaders. one of bishop selwyn's first steps when he was appointed bishop of new zealand, was to make mr. henry williams one of his archdeacons, and since then he has been designated to a new zealand bishopric in a district inhabited exclusively by christianized maories. could mr. marsden have foreseen the course which awaited his companion, how would his soul have been cheered! but it was for him to sow in tears, and for others to reap in joy. the field was not yet ripe for the harvest; other men laboured, who now sleep in the dust, and we of this generation have entered into their labours. mr. marsden was not mistaken in his estimate of his new companion. indeed he appears to have been very seldom mistaken in the judgments he formed about other men. "i think," he notes, "that mr. williams and his family will prove a great blessing to the society. i hope he will be able to correct and remedy, in time, many evils that have existed, and also to set an example to the rest what they as missionaries should do." this was his fourth visit to new zealand, and though in some respects it was painful, yet in others there was ground for joy. the cloud which the prophet saw from carmel, though no greater than a man's hand, foretold abundance of rain; and so now too, at length, after nine years' toil, a few hopeful symptoms appeared amongst the maories. their anxious visitor observed with much pleasure, he says, that since his last visit, the natives in general were much improved in their appearance and manners; and now for the first time he heard them, with strange delight, sing some hymns and repeat some prayers in their own language. this convinced him that, notwithstanding the misconduct of a few of the europeans, the work was gradually going on, and the way preparing for the blessings of the gospel. "i have no doubt that the greatest difficulties are now over, and that god will either incline the hearts of those who are now in new zealand, to devote themselves to their work, or he will find other instruments to do his work." yet he had a painful duty to discharge. firm as he was and lion-hearted when danger was to be met, his nature was very gentle, and his affections both deep and warm; and he had now to rebuke some of the missionaries whom he loved as his own soul, and even to dismiss one of them. of those whom he had been obliged to censure, he writes thus:--"they expressed their regret for the past, and a determination to act in a different way for the future. some, i have no doubt, will retrace their steps, and will be more cautious and circumspect, but i have not the same confidence in all. some express sorrow, but i fear not that which worketh repentance." again he remarks: "missionary work is very hard work, unless the heart is fully engaged in it. no consideration can induce a man to do habitually what he has a habitual aversion to. the sooner such a one leaves the work, the better it will be for himself and the mission." but though compelled to blame, he did not forget to sympathize. "the present missionaries, though some of them have erred greatly from the right way, yet have all had their trials and troubles. some allowance must be made for their peculiar situation, and their want of christian society, and of the public ordinances of religion." several chiefs, among whom was tooi, warmly took up the cause of the missionary who had been dismissed. the conversation which followed is a beautiful illustration of the too much forgotten scripture which tells us that "a soft answer turneth away wrath," while at the same time it presents an interesting view of the maori mind and character at this critical period of their national history. "tooi addressing me, said a missionary had informed him that day that he was going to leave new zealand, and the chiefs wished to know whether this person had been dismissed for selling muskets and powder to the natives. to this i replied that mr. ---- was directed by the gentlemen in england who had sent him out as a missionary, not to sell muskets and powder; that it was not the custom in england for clergymen to sell muskets and powder; and that no missionary could be allowed to sell them in new zealand. as several of the chiefs present had been at port jackson, i observed that they knew that the clergymen there did not sell muskets and powder. they knew that i had not one musket in my house, and that they had never seen any when they were with me. they replied, they knew what i said was true. i further added we did not interfere with the government of new zealand; they did what they pleased, and the missionaries should be allowed to do what they pleased. tooi said that this was but just, and observed, 'we are at present in the same state as the otaheitans were some time back. the otaheitans wanted only muskets and powder, and would have nothing else, and now, as they knew better, they wanted none; and the new zealanders would care nothing about muskets when they knew better, which they would in time.' all the chiefs acquiesced in the observations tooi made. i was happy to find their minds were so enlarged, and that they had begun to take such proper views of the subject. i said, tooi's remarks upon the conduct of the otaheitans were very just, and told them that the queen charlotte brig, which had sailed from the bay the preceding day, belonged to the young king pomare; that the otaheitans had sent oil and various other articles to port jackson, and that they had received in return, tea, sugar, and flour, and clothing, as they wanted these articles, and that the new zealanders might in time have a ship of their own to procure sperm oil, spars, etc., which they might sell at port jackson, and many of them were able to kill the whales, having been employed on board the whalers. when they got a vessel of their own, they would soon be equal to the otaheitans, and give over their cruel wars. they expressed much pleasure at having a vessel of their own. after some further explanation the chiefs were satisfied that mr. ---- had violated our laws and had brought all his distress upon himself." the conduct of the natives confirmed the impression which mr. marsden had previously formed, and which their subsequent history down to the present day entirely sustains, that they are a noble race of men, of considerable mental capacity, of great perseverance and enterprise, who never lose sight of an object upon which they have once set their minds; powerful reasoners upon any subject that has come within their knowledge; possessed of a quick perception and a natural sagacity, which enables them to form a just acquaintance with human nature as it presents itself before them. who would not wish that they too may form a happy exception to the rule which seems in every land to condemn the native population to waste away before the advances of european enterprise? who would not desire that the maorie tribes may long be a great and powerful nation, protected, but not oppressed by english rule? mr. marsden now paid a visit at wangaroa, to the wesleyan missionary station there. over the wesleyan missions he had of course no control or oversight, such as that with which he was intrusted towards the missions of the london missionary society in the south sea islands. this, however, did not prevent his taking an affectionate interest in their affairs. he found mr. leigh, the founder of their mission, very ill, and invited him to return with him on a voyage of health and recreation to port jackson; and having taken leave of the church missionary brethren with solemn and affectionate counsels he embarked on the th of september, , with feelings which he thus describes. "i now felt much pleasure in the prospect of a speedy return to my family and people, and being very weary with various toils and anxieties both of body and mind, i longed for a little rest, and retired to my cabin with much thankfulness and comfort. i had cause to be thankful for continual good health during the period i had been in new zealand, as i had not lost one day. i felt great confidence in the rev. mr. williams, and i doubt not that god will prosper the work, and raise up a seed in this benighted land to serve him; for many shall come from the south as well as the north, and shall sit down with abraham, isaac, and jacob in the kingdom of god." but his bright visions were overcast. like the first and greatest of christian missionaries, it was ordained that he, too, "should suffer shipwreck and be cast upon a desert island." his own journal gives us the story of his danger and deliverance. "_sunday th._--this morning we weighed anchor. i spent some time this day reading the scriptures with the rev. s. leigh, our subject for contemplation was the st chapter of st. paul to the romans. the weather was very threatening and stormy; the wind from the eastward and strong, blowing directly into the mouth of the harbour. we lay in korororika bay, on the south side of the harbour, and had to sail along a lee rocky shore. in working out with the wind dead on the land, the ship being light and high out of the water she would not answer her helm, and twice missed stays. the lead was kept continually sounding, and we soon found ourselves in little more than three fathoms water, with a rocky bottom and a shoal of rocks on our lee, and it was then high water. when the captain found the situation we were in, he immediately ordered to let go the anchor, which was done. when the tide turned the ship struck, the gale increased, and the sea with it; a shipwreck was now more than probable; there appeared no possible way to prevent it. the rev. mr. leigh was very ill, and felt the disturbance much, mrs. leigh also being very ill. i requested the captain to lend me the boat to take mr. and mrs. leigh to the nearest island, where we arrived very safely, the island being but two miles distant. the natives expressed much concern for us, made a fire, prepared the best hut they could, which was made of bulrushes, for our reception. i requested them to send a canoe to rungheehe, to inform mr. and mrs. hall of the loss of the ship, and to bring their boat to assist in bringing the people to land. at the same time, i desired they would tell the natives to bring a large war canoe. the natives for some time alleged that their canoe would be dashed to pieces by the waves, but at length i prevailed upon them. they had between five and six miles to go, through a very rough sea. about three o'clock, messrs. hall, king, and hanson, arrived in mr. hall's boat, and a large war canoe with natives; they immediately proceeded to the ship, and we had the satisfaction to see them arrive safe, and waited until dark with the greatest anxiety for their return. the rain fell in torrents, the gale increased, and they had not returned; we lay down in our little hut full of fear for the safety of all on board. the night appeared very long, dark, and dreary. as we could not rest, we most anxiously wished for the morning light, to learn some account of them. "_september th._--when the day arrived we had the happiness to see the vessel still upright, but driven nearer the shore. no boat or canoe from her; the gale still increased; about mid-day we saw the mainmast go overboard. the natives on the island screamed aloud when the mast fell. i concluded they had cut away the mast to relieve the vessel. we spent the rest of this day in great suspense, as we could not conjecture why all the passengers should remain on board in the state the ship was in. at dark in the evening mr. hall returned, and informed us that the bottom of the vessel was beaten out, and that both her chain and best bower cable were parted; and that she beat with such violence upon the rocks when the tide was in that it was impossible to stand upon the deck; at the same time, he said, there was no danger of any lives being lost, as he did not think the vessel would go to pieces, as she stood firm upon the rock, when the tide was out. he said, the passengers on board had not determined what they would do, or where they would land as yet; they wished to wait till the gale was abated. mr. hall's information relieved us much; as it was now dark, the wind high, and the sea rough, we could not leave the island, and therefore took up our lodgings in our little hut. "the natives supplied us with a few potatoes and some fish. my pleasing prospect of returning to port jackson was at an end, for some time at least. i was exceedingly concerned for the loss of so fine a vessel on many accounts, as individuals who are interested in her must suffer as well as the passengers on board, and spent the night in reflections on the difficulties with which i was surrounded; while the raging of the storm continued without intermission. "_tuesday th._--at the return of day we discovered the ship still upright, but she appeared to be higher on the reef. i now determined to return to kiddee-kiddee in mr. hall's boat with mr. and mrs. leigh. we left the island for the missionary settlement, where we arrived about nine o'clock. our friends had not heard of the loss of the ship until our arrival, as there had not been any communication between the different settlements in consequence of the severe weather. we were very kindly received by the brethren; i informed them in what situation we had left the ship, and requested that every assistance might be given to land the passengers and luggage. the wreck was about twelve or fourteen miles from the settlement. four boats were immediately sent off; mr. hall's boat took the women and children to rungheehe, and two of the boats returned with part of our luggage, and we went to the station of the rev. henry williams. all the brethren rendered every aid in their power. the boats on their return brought the welcome news that all was well on board, and mr. leigh did not appear to have suffered much injury from the wet and cold he endured on the island, though in so weak a state. divine wisdom has no doubt some wise ends to answer in all that has befallen us. the word of god expressly says all things shall work together for the good of them that love god, and the scripture cannot be broken. "we cannot see through this dark and mysterious dispensation at the present time; the why and wherefore we must leave to him who ordereth all things according to the counsel of his own will. as the gale continued with unremitting violence, if we had gone out to sea we might have been cast on shore under more dangerous and distressing circumstances. our shipwreck has been a most merciful one, as no lives have been lost, nor anything but the ship." the shipwreck of the brampton--for that was the vessel's name--occurred on the th of september, and in consequence mr. marsden was detained in new zealand until the th of november, when he returned home in the dragon, and arrived at sydney in the beginning of december, . the interval was not lost; for he seems to have been one of those who gather up the fragments of time, and turn to the best account the idle hours and spare moments of life. he drew up some excellent rules for the guidance of the missionaries and christian settlers in their intercourse with the shipping which now began to visit the bay of islands. he encouraged the erection of a school-house for the natives. "the foundation," he says, "must be laid in the education of the rising generation. the children possess strong minds, are well-behaved and teachable. they are capable of learning anything we wish to teach them." during his detention he also addressed a circular letter to the missionaries respecting a grammar in the maori or new zealand language, pointing out the necessity of adopting some more systematic method both for its arrangement and pronunciation. this led to a new vocabulary of the native language, and in a short time to a new method of spelling. we have, of course, retained mr. marsden's orthography of new zealand names, but we may remark, by the way, it is very different from that which has been since introduced. shunghie became e'hongi; kiddee kiddee, keri keri; and so in other instances. but even mr. marsden, with all his sagacity, did not penetrate new zealand's future, nor foresee in how short a time the well-known and familiar sounds of english towns and villages would be transferred to that still savage island, superseding even in maori lips their native designations. it seems probable that the new zealand language may, in the course of another generation, come to be known only by the grammar which the missionaries compiled and the scriptures which they have since translated. but whatever be its fate, it is in a high degree sonorous and expressive, and had it but an antique literature, a tallessin or an ossian, it could never perish. without a literature of its own no spoken language can long endure against the assaults of that which is evidently destined to be the universal speech of trade and commerce, the english tongue. on the other hand the literature of a language, or even of a dialect, embalms it after it has ceased to be a spoken tongue even to the end of time. and lastly, a political object occupied some of mr. marsden's time and thoughts. the incessant and desolating wars which the native tribes waged against each other were, he saw, the great obstacle to the progress of new zealand. the missions were always insecure, for the country was always more or less disturbed. civil war is, under all circumstances, the bane, and, if persisted in, the ruin of a country; add the ferocity of new zealand warfare, its cannibalism and its undying spirit of revenge, and nothing more was wanted to degrade the finest country under heaven into a very pit of darkness. all this mr. marsden felt; he conceived that if he could succeed in establishing some one chief as supreme, a plan of government might be drawn up securing life and property throughout the island. he consulted shunghie, wyatto riva, and other powerful chieftains. shunghie's ambitious spirit would have embraced the proposal, the condition being, of course, that he should be the sovereign; but the jealousy of the rest prevented anything like unanimity. riva justly remarked that to have any superior would degrade them; yet all the chiefs appeared tired of war and the unsettled state consequent upon it. so the project failed. at length he returned home, accompanied by six new zealand youths, whose eagerness was such that they gladly promised to sleep upon the deck rather than miss the opportunity. mr. leigh, the wesleyan missionary, was also his fellow voyager. mr. leigh's opinion of mr. marsden and his labours is highly gratifying, and not the less so as coming from one who belonged to another society. "the shipwreck," he says, "which we have experienced will, i have no doubt, prove favourable to the reputation of the new zealanders. for several days we were in their power, and they might have taken all that we had with the greatest ease; but instead of oppressing and robbing us, they actually sympathized with us in our trials and afflictions. mr. marsden, myself, and mrs. leigh, were at a native village for several days and nights, without any food but what the natives brought us; what they had they gave us willingly, and said--'poor creatures! you have nothing to eat, and you are not accustomed to our kind of food.' i shall never forget the sympathy and kindness of these poor heathens. "i do hope that the rev. s. marsden will be successful in his endeavours to put an end to the frequent wars in new zealand. i have heard many natives and chiefs say, 'it is no good to go to fight and eat men; we wish to cease from war, and retire to some peaceful place.' i pray god that this object may be soon effected among this people. the christian world, and especially the church missionary society, will never be able fully to appreciate the valuable labours of the rev. samuel marsden. his fervent zeal, his abundant toil, and extensive charity in the cause of missions, are beyond estimation. may he live long as a burning and shining light in the missionary world!" within a few days of his return home, mr. marsden, the impression of his visit still fresh upon his mind, wrote the following interesting letter:-- "paramatta, december , . "my very dear sir,--i now sit down to thank you for your very valuable presents, which you were so kind as to send me for the natives of new zealand. they arrived a little before i sailed for that island. i was at van diemen's land when the vessel which brought them arrived at port jackson. on my return from the southern settlements i prepared for new zealand. your spades, axes, etc., made the hearts of many rejoice; and they are now dispersed over the country, from the north cape to the thames. when i arrived at the bay of islands there were several chiefs there, who had fled for safety in the late wars, but returned when peace was restored, and took with them some of your presents. i have just returned from new zealand, having been absent about twenty weeks; was shipwrecked, but no lives were lost. the natives have made considerable advances in civilization, and i have no doubt they will become a great nation in due time. much has been done already to better their situation. i believe their agriculture has increased more than twenty-fold since they have got hoes, but it will be many years before every man in the island will be able to procure a hoe. the church missionary society has done much for them, and their labour has not been in vain. all that is wanted now is faithful missionaries to labour amongst them; it will be very difficult to find such men. there are even very few pious men who are qualified to be missionaries; it requires much self-denial, much patience, and much perseverance, united with the wisdom of the serpent and the innocence of the dove. men, also, of education and knowledge are wanted; ignorant men, though possessed of piety, will be found ill-qualified for a mission in new zealand. the natives are a wise and understanding people, and will pry into the very secrets of every man who resides amongst them. their study is human nature in all its bearings; they talk more of the heart of man than we do, and of the evil that is lodged there. they will soon find out a man's real character, whether he is ignorant or wise, prudent or foolish, and will estimate the benefits which they are likely to derive from his knowledge, his good temper, his charity, and will esteem him or despise him accordingly. a wise and prudent man will have great influence over them, while they would laugh at an ignorant man. a good farmer or mechanic would be much esteemed, because they would be benefited by him. i have gained considerable knowledge of their customs and manners in my last visit. cannibalism is interwoven through the whole of their religious system. they offer up human sacrifices as sin offerings. whenever the gospel shall be revealed to them they will very easily understand the doctrine of the atonement. they demand a sacrifice or an atonement for almost everything which they consider as an injury. human sacrifices are offered for the death of their friends, whether they are slain in battle or die a natural death. their eating human flesh has its origin in superstition. they pay great attention to all the ceremonies of their religion, and are very much afraid of offending their god. as for their wars, these will not be prevented until an object can be found that will employ their active minds. agriculture and commerce are the only means that promise to remedy their civil wars; when these can be brought into operation they will have a beneficial effect. it is only the sword of the spirit, which is the word of god, that can subdue their hearts to the obedience of faith. i am of opinion that civilization and christianity will go hand in hand, if means are used at the same time to introduce both, and one will aid and assist the other. to bring this noble race of human beings to the knowledge of the only true god and jesus christ is an attempt worthy of the christian world. i believe as god has stirred up the hearts of his people to pray for them, and to open both their hearts and their purses he will prosper the work, and raise up a people from amongst these savages to call him blessed. in time the voice of joy and gladness will be heard in the present abodes of cruelty, darkness, and superstition. i consider every axe, every hoe, every spade, in new zealand as an instrument to prepare the way of the lord. they are silent but sure missionaries in the hands of the natives of that country. i was very happy to learn that your dear mother was still alive, and all your family were well at present. remember us kindly to your mother, if still alive, and to mrs. terry and our other friends. "i am, yours affectionately, "samuel marsden. "to avison terry, esq." chapter x. aborigines--south sea mission--fresh slanders on mr. marsden's character--his pamphlet in self-defence--letter of messrs. bennett and tyerman--libels and action at law--verdict--case of ring--pastoral letters of mr. marsden: to a lady; on the divinity of christ--fifth voyage to new zealand--letters, etc. scarcely had mr. marsden returned to paramatta when we find him in correspondence with the new governor on the subject of the aborigines of australia. they were already wasting away in the presence of the european colonists like snow before the sun. their restless and wandering habits seemed to present insuperable difficulties, whether the object were to convert or merely to protect them. his memorandum to the governor, and subsequent correspondence with the church missionary society, show his anxiety for their welfare and the largeness of his heart. each new project, as it came before him, was welcomed with serious attention, while at the same time there was no fickleness, no relaxation of his efforts in his old engagements and pursuits. but he was not allowed to connect his name with the evangelization of these poor heathen. various attempts have been made by different denominations to bring them into the fold of christ, but hitherto with very small success. it seems, at length, as if christians had acquiesced in the conclusion that their conversion is hopeless, that we can do nothing more than to throw over them the shield of the british government, and prevent their wholesale destruction by lawless "squatters" and "bush-rangers." we shall return, however, to the subject hereafter. his interest in the mission to the south sea islands continued unabated. the london missionary society had deputed the rev. daniel tyerman and george bennett, esq., to visit these missions, and bring home in person a report of all they might see upon the spot. on their voyage, they stayed awhile at sydney, and mr. marsden addressed a letter to them, which shows his own zeal in the cause, and the painful apathy or profane contempt of others. such memorials, in this day of comparative fervour, ought not to be forgotten. when a livingstone returns home to receive a shower of honours from a grateful country let us not forget the venerable pioneers in the same missionary work, and the different treatment they experienced. the contrast will call forth emotions both of gratitude and of shame. "sydney, november , . "gentlemen,--i know of no circumstance that has given me more satisfaction than your mission to the south sea islands. the attempt to introduce the arts of civilization and the knowledge of christianity amongst the inhabitants of those islands was confessedly great. an undertaking of such a new and important nature could not be accomplished without much labour, expense, anxiety, and risk, to all who were concerned in the work. the missionaries, for the first ten years, suffered every privation in the islands, from causes which i need not state. they called for every support and encouragement to induce them to remain in the islands, and to return to their stations, after they had been compelled to take refuge in new south wales. during these ten years, i used every means in my power to assist the missionaries, and to serve the society islands. during the next ten years, the ruling powers in this colony manifested a very hostile spirit to the mission. as i felt it my pleasure as well as my duty to support the cause, i fell under the marked displeasure of those in authority, and had a painful warfare to maintain for so long a period, and many sacrifices i had to make. the ungodly world always treated the attempt to introduce the gospel among the natives of the islands as wild and visionary, and the christian world despaired of success. "in those periods of doubt and uncertainty in the public mind, i suffered much anxiety, as very great responsibility was placed on me. sometimes, from one cause and another, my sleep departed from me; though i was persuaded god would bless the work. the work is now done; this your eyes have seen, and your ears heard; in this i do rejoice and will rejoice. i wish you, as representatives of the society, to satisfy yourselves, from friends and foes, relative to my conduct towards the mission for the last twenty-five years. you must be aware that many calumnies have been heaped upon me, and many things laid to my charge which i know not. my connexion with the missionaries and the concerns of the mission has been purely of a religious nature, without any secular views or temporal interests; and my services, whether they be great or small, were gratuitous. the missionaries, as a body, are very valuable men, and as such i love them; but some of them, to whom i had been kind, have wounded me severely, both here and elsewhere. i have always found it difficult to manage religious men; what they state, though in a bad spirit, is generally believed by the christian world. i need not enter into the circumstances which urged me to purchase the queen charlotte, as you are in full possession of them; you are also acquainted with the reason why her expenses became so heavy, the fall of colonial produce more than twenty per cent. in so short a period, which no one could have anticipated at that time, and the increased duty of one hundred per cent. upon tobacco. if these two circumstances had not occurred, there would have been no loss to any individuals or the mission. i inclose the statement of the accounts of the queen charlotte, and shall leave the matter in your hands, to act as you think proper. i shall also leave the society to make their own account of the interest upon the l. i borrowed. i have no doubt but the society will be satisfied that i had no motive but the good of the mission, and that, as christian men who fear god, they will do what is just and right. i shall therefore leave the matter in your hands. "i have the honour to be, gentlemen, "your most obedient, humble servant, "samuel marsden." while thus engaged, he was still a faithful minister of the gospel in its richest consolations, and a bold opponent of vice. his position as a magistrate not only obliged him to reprove but to punish sin. the task was difficult, when the real offender, in too many cases, was not the wretched culprit at the bar of justice, but some rich and insolent delinquent, beyond the reach of the limited powers of a colonial magistrate. in consequence of mr. marsden's fearless conduct in a case we shall not describe, he was at length formally dismissed from the magistracy. all that is necessary to be known, in order to vindicate his character, is contained in an extract of a letter written by himself to mr. nicholson, dated paramatta, th august, : "my very dear sir," he says, "i have still to strive against sin and immorality, which brings upon me the hatred of some men in power; this i must expect from those who live on in sin and wickedness.... you would hear of the whole bench of magistrates at paramatta being dismissed at one stroke, five in number--messrs. ... and your humble servant. we fell in the cause of truth and virtue. if certain individuals could have knocked me down, and spared my colleagues, i should have fallen alone; but there was no alternative but to sacrifice all at once. i glory in my disgrace. as long as i live i hope to raise a standard against vice and wickedness. we have some herods here who would take off the head of the man who dared to tell them that adultery was a crime." he was still subject to the most annoying insults. imputations, ludicrous from their absurdity and violence, were heaped upon him. in reading the libels which were published in the colony, and in england too, about this time, we should suppose that the man against whom they were aimed was some delinquent, notorious even in a penal settlement. he was openly accused of being "a man of the most vindictive spirit,"--"a turbulent and ambitious priest,"--a "cruel magistrate"--an "avaricious man." these charges, amongst many more, were contained in a work in two volumes octavo, professing to give an account of australasia, which reached a third edition, and to which the author's name was attached. as if these were not sufficient to grind his reputation to the dust, further charges of hypocrisy and bigotry were thrown in. these last were easily repelled; to refute the others was more difficult, inasmuch as facts were involved which it was necessary to clear up and place in a just light before the public. it might have seemed magnanimous to despise such assailants, and meet them with silent pity. and yet we doubt whether such magnanimity would have been wise, for with a blemished reputation his usefulness would have been at an end; since his accusers were not anonymous hirelings, but magistrates and men of high position in the colony. he referred the matter to his friends at home, placing his character in their hands. he was willing to institute an action for libel, if this step were thought advisable; or else to lay a statement of his wrongs before the house of commons; and he transmitted the manuscript of a pamphlet, in self-justification, to his friend dr. mason good. it was accompanied with a letter, remarkable for the modest estimate of his own abilities, as well as for true christian meekness: "i have requested our mutual friend, baron field, esq., to show the documents to you, and to consult with you on the propriety of publishing them. i have much more confidence in your superior judgment than in my own.... many hard contests," he says, "i have had in this colony. but god has hitherto overruled all for good, and he will continue to do so. as a christian i rejoice in having all manner of evil spoken of me by wicked men. as a member of society, it is my duty to support, by every lawful means, an upright character. the good of society calls upon me to do this, from the public situation i hold, as well as that gospel which i believe; on this principle i think it right to notice mr. w.'s work. i leave it," he adds, "to you and my other friends to publish what i have written or not, as you may think proper, and with what alterations and arrangements you may think necessary. i do not know how to make a book, any more than a watch, but you have learned the trade completely; i therefore beg your assistance, for which i shall feel very grateful." but even these anxieties could not engross his confidential correspondence. in the same letter we have pleasant mention of new zealand and its missionaries:--"i have no doubt about new zealand; we must pray much for them, and labour hard, and god will bless the labour of our hands." nor is science quite forgotten:--"i have sent you a small box of fossils and minerals, by captain dixon, of the phoenix, from point dalrymple principally; the whole of them came from van diemen's land." mr. wilberforce and other friends of religion were consulted; and under their advice his pamphlet was published in london, though not till the year . it is entitled, "an answer to certain calumnies, etc., by the rev. samuel marsden, principal chaplain to the colony of new south wales." it contains a temperate, and at the same time a conclusive answer, to all the charges made against him. to some of these we have already had occasion to refer; others have lost their interest. the charge of hypocrisy was chiefly grounded on the fact that a windmill, on mr. marsden's property, had been seen at work on sunday. but "the mill," he says, "was not in my possession at that time, nor was i in new south wales. i never heard of the circumstance taking place but once; and the commissioner of inquiry was the person who told me of it after my return from new zealand. i expressed my regret to the commissioner that anything should have taken place, in my absence, which had the appearance that i sanctioned the violation of the sabbath-day. as i was twelve hundred miles off at the time, it was out of my power to prevent what had happened; but i assured him it should not happen again, _for the mill should be taken down_, which was done." how few, it is to be feared, would make such a sacrifice, simply to avoid the possibility of a return of the appearance of evil! the charge of bigotry arose out of his interference with mr. crook, a person in the colony who had formerly been intended for the south sea mission. it was at the request of the missionaries themselves, that mr. marsden, as agent of their society, had been led to interfere; but he was represented, in consequence, as "a persecutor of dissenters." messrs. bennett and tyerman were then in australia; and in answer to mr. marsden's request that "they would do him the favour to communicate to him their impartial opinion, how far he had in any way merited such an accusation, either as it respects mr. c. or any other missionary belonging to the london missionary society," he received a grateful acknowledgment of his services, which we are happy to insert:-- "sydney, may , . "rev. and dear sir,--we have to acknowledge the receipt of your letter of the th inst., requesting our opinion, as the representatives of the london missionary society, on one of the malicious charges against you in the outrageous publication lately come to the colony. it is with the utmost satisfaction we state, as our decided opinion, that the charge of intolerance or persecution towards mr. crook, or any other missionary connected with the london society, or, indeed, connected with any other missionary society, is utterly untrue. we believe it to have originated in malice or culpable ignorance, and to be a gross libel. "we rejoice, sir, to take the opportunity to say that the south sea mission, and all its missionaries, have been, and continue, to be, exceedingly indebted to your singular kindness and persevering zeal in their behalf. no temporal reward, we are persuaded, would have been equivalent to the most valuable services which you have so long and so faithfully rendered to this mission and its missionaries. after all your upright and perfectly disinterested kindness towards the missionaries, when they have been residing on the islands,--when they have been residing in the colony, on their way from england to the islands,--when they have voluntarily returned from the islands to the colony,--and when, from dire necessity and cruel persecution, compelled to flee from the scenes of their missionary labours, and take up their residence here; that you have met with so much calumny, and so few returns of grateful acknowledgment, for all you have done and borne on their behalf, is to us a matter of surprise and regret. "allow us, dear sir, to conclude by expressing our hope, that the other envenomed shafts aimed at you in this infamous publication, will prove as impotent as that aimed at you through that society, in whose name, and as whose representatives, we beg to renew its cordial thanks and unqualified acknowledgments. and desiring to present our own thanks in the amplest and most respectful manner, "we remain, rev. and dear sir, most faithfully, "your obliged and obedient servants, "george bennett. "daniel tyerman." the case of james ring, we cannot pass unnoticed. it shows the cruelty with which mr. marsden's reputation was assailed on the one hand, and his own firm and resolute bearing on the other. ring was a convict, who for his general good conduct had been assigned as a domestic servant to mr. marsden. he was permitted by the latter, in accordance with the usual custom, to work occasionally at his own trade--that of a painter and glazier, on his own account, and as a reward for his good conduct. he was frequently employed in this way by the residents at paramatta; amongst others by the chief magistrate himself. this man having been ill-treated and severely beaten by another servant, applied, with mrs. marsden's approbation, to the magistrates of paramatta for redress; instead of receiving which, he was charged by them with being illegally at large, and committed to the common jail. mr. marsden was then absent on duty in the country: on appearing before the bench of magistrates upon his return home, he at once stated that he had given permission to ring to work occasionally for himself, and that therefore if there was any blame it lay with him, and not the prisoner. the magistrates not only ordered mr. marsden to be fined two shillings and sixpence per day for each day his servant had been thus at large, under the assumed plea of his transgressing a general government order, but also ordered ring to be remanded to jail and ironed; and he was subsequently worked in irons in a penal gang. "at this conviction there was no informer, nor evidence," (we are now quoting mr. marsden's words, from a statement which he made before a court of inquiry instituted by lord bathurst, the colonial minister at home, to investigate the subject at mr. marsden's request,) "but the bench convicted me on my own admission that i had granted indulgence to my servant to do jobs in the town. there were two convictions, the first was on the th of may, . on the rd of the same month, without a hearing, or being present, without informer, evidence, or notice, on the same charge i was convicted in the penal sum of ten pounds. on the th of june, a convict constable entered my house with a warrant of execution, and levied the fine by distress and sale of my property." these convictions took place under an obsolete colonial regulation of , made in the first instance by governor king, to meet a temporary emergency; but virtually set aside by a general order of governor macquarie's, of a much later date, granting the indulgence under certain regulations, with which mr. marsden had complied. mr. marsden says, in his official defence, that he "was the only person in the colony who was ever fined under such circumstances, since the first establishment of the colony, to the present time." and he adds a statement which, had it not come down to us thus accredited under his own hand, would have seemed incredible, namely that "the two magistrates by whom the fines were inflicted, dr. ---- and lieut. ----, were doing, on that very day, the same thing for which they fined me and punished my servant, and i pointed that out to them at the time they were sitting on the bench, and which they could not deny." denial indeed was out of the question, since, says mr. marsden, "one of dr. ----'s convict servants, henry buckingham, by trade a tailor, was working for me, and had been so for months. lieut. ---- at that very time also had two convict servants belonging to dr. harris, working for him at his own house." in vain did mr. marsden appeal to the governor; even he was afraid to breast the torrent, which for a time bore all before it. "he found no reason to interfere with the colonial law." mr. marsden prayed him at least to bring the matter before a full bench of magistrates, in whose hands he would leave his character; this, too, the governor declined, whereupon as a last step, he laid the affair before the supreme court for its decision; prosecuting the magistrates, and obtaining a verdict for the amount of the fine so unjustly levied. they now affected to triumph in the small amount of the damages in which they were cast, "wishing," he says, "to make the world believe that the injury i had sustained was proportionally small." and thus even his forbearance and his christian spirit in rendering good for evil, were turned against him; for he had instructed his solicitor expressly, not to insert in the indictment the count or charge of malice, but merely to sue for the recovery of the amount of the fine. he states the case thus in simple and forcible language. "i may here observe, the only error it appears i committed originally was in not prosecuting the magistrates for vindictive damages before the supreme court. had i alleged malice, i must have obtained a verdict accordingly; but i sought for no vindictive damages; i sought redress no further than to set my character right with the public. to have done more than this would not have become me, according to my judgment, as a minister of the gospel, and i instructed my solicitor, mr. norton, merely to sue for the amount of the award which had been levied on my property by warrant and distress of sale. the court gave me the amount i prosecuted for, with costs of suit, and with this i was perfectly satisfied." for two whole years this miserable affair lingered on. the unfortunate man ring at length gave way to despondency, made his escape from the colony, and found his way to new zealand, but was never heard of more. mr. marsden was much concerned for ring's misfortunes, and deplored his rashness in making his escape when all his sufferings were unmerited. "i knew," he says, "if he should return to england and be apprehended as a returned felon, his life would be forfeited." such even to a recent period was the severity of our penal code, an escaped felon was consigned to the gallows. with a view of preventing this additional calamity, he wrote to the right honourable mr. robert peel, his majesty's secretary of state for the home department, under date of july ; and having stated the case, he says: "i feel exceedingly for ring; should he return to england and fall a sacrifice to the law, i should never forgive myself unless i used every means in my power to save him. the above statement of facts might have some influence with the executive in saving his life, if the circumstances of the case could reach the throne of mercy." the contents of this letter were transmitted by mr. peel to lord bathurst the colonial secretary, and his lordship ordered the governor of new south wales to establish a formal inquiry into the case. a court was accordingly summoned at sydney, consisting of the governor assisted by two assessors, the chief justice and the newly-appointed archdeacon scott, before which mr. marsden was cited to appear. he did so, the whole affair was investigated, and the result was, as the reader will have anticipated, not only mr. marsden's entire acquittal of the charges which wantonness and malice had preferred, but the establishment of his reputation as a man of high courage and pure integrity, and a christian minister of spotless character. the christian reader will probably ask what were the effects of these various trials upon mr. marsden's mind and temper? did he become selfish and morose? were his spiritual affections quickened? as a minister of christ, did his light shine with a more resplendent ray, or was it disturbed and overcast with gloom? to suggest and answer such inquiries are the proper uses of biography, especially the biography of religious men. with regard, then, to his habitual temper and tone of mind nothing can be more cheering than a letter, which we now insert, written to a lady in solitude, when the storm of insult and misrepresentation was at its highest pitch. "paramatta, december , . "dear mrs. f.,--i received your kind letter by mr. franklane, and was happy to learn that you and your little boy were well. the circumstance to which you allude is not worthy to be had in recollection for a single moment, and i hope you will blot it out of your remembrance for ever; we are so weak and foolish, and i may add sinful, that we allow real or imaginary trifles to vex and tease our minds, while subjects of eternal moment make little impression upon us. it is a matter of no moment to our great adversary, if he can only divert our minds from attending to the best things. he wishes at all times 'a root of bitterness' should 'spring up' in our minds, as this will eat like a canker every pious feeling, every christian disposition. 'learn of me,' says our blessed lord, 'for i am meek and lowly in heart, and ye shall find rest unto your souls.' 'the meek will he guide in judgment, and the meek will he teach his way.' it is for want of this meekness, this humility of mind, that we are soon angry. the apostle exhorts us 'to be kindly affectioned one towards another,' and live in unity and godly love, and 'bear ye one another's burdens, and so fulfil the law of christ.' situated as you are, remote from all christian society, and from the public ordinances of religion, you will want, in a very especial manner, the consolations which can only be derived from the holy scriptures. you are in a barren and thirsty land where no water is; you have none to give you to drink of the waters of bethlehem, and you must not be surprised if you grow weary and faint in your mind. though god is everywhere, and his presence fills heaven and earth, yet all places are not equally favourable for the growth of religion in our souls. we want christian society; we want the public ordinances; we want social worship. all these are needful to keep up the life of god in our souls. without communion and fellowship with god, without our souls are going forth after him, we cannot be easy, we cannot be happy; we are dissatisfied with ourselves, and with all around us. a little matter puts us out of humour, satan easily gains an advantage over us, we become a prey to discontent, to murmuring, and are prone to overlook all the great things the lord hath done for us. under your peculiar circumstances you will require much prayer, and much watchfulness; religion is a very tender plant, it is soon injured, it requires much nourishing in the most favourable situations, but it calls for more attention, where it is more exposed to blights and storms. a plant removed from a rich cultivated soil, into a barren uncultivated spot soon droops and pines away. i hope this will not be the case with you, though you must expect to feel some change in your feelings of a religious nature. without much care the sabbaths will be a weariness; instead of your soul being nourished and fed upon this day, it will sicken, languish, and pine. i most sincerely wish you had the gospel preached unto you; this would be the greatest blessing, but it cannot be at present. there is no man to care for your souls, you have no shepherd to watch over you, and must consider yourselves as sheep without a shepherd. you know how easily sheep are scattered, how they wander when left to themselves, how soon the wolves destroy them. it is impossible to calculate the loss you must suffer, for want of the public ordinances of religion. my people, says god, perish for lack of knowledge. you know it is true that there is a saviour, you have your bible to instruct you, and you have gained much knowledge of divine things, but still you will want feeding on the bread of life, you will want jesus to be set before your eyes continually as crucified. you will want eternal things to be impressed upon your minds from time to time. though you know these things, yet you will require to have your minds stirred up, by being put in remembrance of these things. as you cannot enjoy the public ordinances, i would have you to have stated times for reading the scriptures and private prayer; these means god may bless to your soul. isaac lived in a retired situation, he had no public ordinances to attend, but we are told he planted a grove, and built an altar, and called upon the name of the lord. this you have within your power to do. imitate his example, labour to possess his precious faith, and then it will be a matter of little importance where you dwell. with the saviour you will be happy, without him you never can be. when you once believe on him, when he becomes precious to your soul, then you will seek all your happiness in him. may the father of mercies give you a right judgment in all things, lead you to build your hopes of a blessed immortality upon that chief corner stone, which he hath laid in zion; then you will never be ashamed through the countless ages of eternity. "mrs. m. and my family unite in kind regards to you, wishing you every blessing that the upper and nether springs can afford. "in great haste. i remain, dear mrs. f----, "yours very faithfully, "samuel marsden." systematic theology, or indeed deep learning in any of its branches, sacred or profane, mr. marsden had never cultivated. his life had not been given to abstraction and close study, but to the most active pursuits. activity, however, is not inconsistent with deep thoughtfulness, and it affords some aids to reflection and observation, which often lay the foundation for a breadth of mind and a solid wisdom to which the mere student or man of letters seldom attains. mr. marsden, too, was well acquainted with his bible, and, above most men, with himself. thus, without being in any sense a learned divine, he was an instructive minister, and often an original thinker. his early acquaintance with dr. mason good had led him deeply to consider the question of the deity of christ and the following letter upon this all-important doctrine proves how capable he was of standing forward in its defence, and how deeply alive he was to its importance. it was addressed to one who had begun to doubt upon the subject of our lord's divine nature. "paramatta, june , . "my dear sir,--i ought to have answered your letter long ago, but was prevented from one thing and another, which called away my attention when i was determined to write. i received the books you sent me. that respecting our lord's divinity i read with care and attention. i found nothing in it that would satisfy me; there was no food to the soul, no bread, no water of life. i found nothing that suited my ruined state. i know i have destroyed myself by my iniquities, that i am hopeless and helpless, and must be eternally undone unless i can find a divine saviour who is able and willing to answer all the demands of law and justice. if i were alone in the world, and no individual but myself believed that jesus was god over all blessed for evermore, and that he had died for my sins, that the penalty due to them was laid upon him, i know and am persuaded unless i believed this i could not be saved. i find no difficulty in my mind in praying to him, because i believe he is able to save. the dying thief did this in the very face of death: 'lord, remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom.' jesus promised that he should be with him that very day in paradise. stephen, we are told, was a man full of faith and the holy ghost; he was mighty in the scriptures, so that none of the jewish priests were able to withstand his arguments which he advanced in support of the doctrine that jesus was the son of god. when he was brought to the place of execution his only hope of eternal life was in jesus. 'lord jesus, receive my spirit,' was his dying prayer. he fled to him as the almighty god at this most awful period. no other foundation can any man lay than that is laid, says st. paul, which is christ jesus. it is to no purpose to quote scripture on this important doctrine, i mean any particular passage, for jesus is the sum and substance of them all. i am fully convinced that no man can have a well-grounded hope of salvation unless he believes in the divinity of our lord and only saviour. i would ask you, why should you not have as firm a hope as any other man in the world of eternal life, if you do not believe in the divinity of our lord? admitting that you have the same view as the author of the work you sent me to read, of god and religion, i may put the question to you, can you depend on the foundation your hope stands upon? does it now give you full satisfaction? are you sure that you are right? i believe jesus to be a divine person, i believe him to be god over all; i have no doubt upon this point, and i believe that all will be saved by him who trust in him for salvation. this doctrine is as clear to me as the sun at noon-day, and while i believe this doctrine it administers comfort to my mind, and gives me hope of a better state. i envy none their views of religion. i am satisfied with my own, though i am not satisfied with the attainments i have made in it, because i have not made those advances in divine knowledge in all the fruits of the spirit i might have done. this is matter of shame, and regret, and humiliation. examine the christian religion as it stands revealed, with prayer for divine illumination, and that god who giveth wisdom to all who call upon him for it will impart it to you. i have never met with a socinian who wished me to embrace his faith, which has surprised me. i feel very differently. i wish all to believe in our lord, because i believe this is necessary to salvation, as far as i understand the scriptures; and i would wish all men to be saved, and to come to the knowledge of the truth. i would not change my views of religion for ten thousand worlds. but i must drop this subject, and reply to your last note. * * * * * "our affectionate regards to mrs. f.; accept the same from, "dear sir, yours very sincerely, "samuel marsden." he remembered with gratitude his early friends, and was now in a condition to repay their kindness, and in his turn to repeat the christian liberality which had once been extended to himself. from a private letter to the rev. j. pratt, we venture to make the following interesting quotation: "i believe in the year i first turned my attention to the ministry, and from the year to i received pecuniary assistance, more or less, from the elland society, but to what amount i never knew. first i studied under the rev. s. stores, near leeds. in , i went to the late rev. joseph milner, and remained two years with him. from hull i went to cambridge, and in i left cambridge, was ordained, and came out to new south wales. i shall be much obliged to you to learn, if you can, the amount of my expenses to the elland society. i have always considered _that_ a just debt, which i ought to pay. if you can send me the amount i shall be much obliged to you. i purpose to pay the amount from time to time, in sums not less than _l._ per annum. when i close the society's accounts on the st of december next, i will give your society credit for _l._, and will thank you to pay the same to the elland society on my account. when i know the whole amount, i will then inform you how i purpose to liquidate it. should the elland society not be in existence, i have to request that the church missionary society will assist some pious young man with a loan, per annum, of not less than _l._, to get into the church as a missionary. in the midst of all my difficulties god has always blessed my basket and my store, and prospered me in all that i have set my hand unto. the greatest part of my property is in the charge of common felons, more than a hundred miles from my house, in the woods, and much of it i never saw, yet it has been taken care of, and will be. a kind providence has watched over all that i have had, and i can truly say i feel no more concern about my sheep and cattle than if they were under my own eye. i have never once visited the place where many of them are, having no time to do this. we may trust god with all we have. i wish to be thankful to him who has poured out his benefits upon me and mine." the practical wisdom, the spirit of calm submission to the divine will when danger appears, and the simple faith in christ displayed in the following letter require no comment, nor will its affectionate and paternal tone pass unnoticed. it appears to have been written to a lady on the eve of a voyage to england. we could wish that a copy of it were placed in the hands of every lady who may be compelled to go to sea. "paramatta, may , . "my dear mrs.----,--should you sail to-morrow it will not be in my power to see you again. i feel much for your very trying situation; why and wherefore you are so severely exercised remains at present known to the only wise god. if time does not reveal the mystery, eternity will. clouds and darkness are round about the paths of the almighty, and his footsteps are not known. you must now cast yourself and your little ones upon the bosom of the great deep. remember always that he who holdeth the waters in the hollow of his hand, will continually watch over you and yours; winds and seas are under his sovereign control. we are prone to imagine that we are in much more danger on the seas than on dry land, but this is not really the case; our times are all in his hands, and if we only reflected that the hairs of our heads are all numbered, we should often be relieved from unnecessary and anxious fears. as for myself, i am constrained to believe that i am as safe in a storm as in a calm from what i have seen and known. should you meet with raging seas and stormy winds, let not these distress you; they can do no more to injure you than the breath of a fly, or the drop of a bucket, without divine permission. the promise is, 'when thou passest through the waters i will be with thee.' this is sufficient for the christian to rest upon. you must live near to god in prayer. labour to get right views of the redeemer, who gave his life as a ransom for you. humble faith in the saviour will enable you to overcome every trial and bear every burden. no doubt but that you will have many painful exercises before you see the shores of old england. tribulations will meet us, and follow us, and attend us all our journey through, and it is through much tribulation we must enter the kingdom of god. could you and i meet on your arrival in london, and could we put our trials in opposite sides, it is very probable that mine would overbalance yours during the period you were at sea. you are not to conclude when the storm blows hard, the waves roar, and seas run mountain high, that you are more tried and distressed than others. "i hope the captain will be kind to you and the children; if he should not you will have no remedy but patience. should the servant woman behave ill, you must submit to this also, because you can do no good in complaining. should the woman leave you ... this is no more than what has happened to my own family. i should recommend you to give the children their dinner in your own cabin; never bring them to table but at the particular request of the captain. this precaution may prevent unpleasant disputes. you will soon see what the feelings of the captain and his wife are, and regulate your conduct accordingly. when i returned to england, when i entered the ship i resolved that i would not have any difference with any one during my passage; whatever provocations i might meet with, i would not notice them; and that resolution i kept to the last. "if you take no offence at anything, but go on quietly your own way, those who would wish to annoy you, will cease to do so, finding their labour in vain. never appear to see or hear anything that you have not the power to remedy. if you should even know that the persons intended to vex you, never notice their conduct. there will be no occasions for these precautions if your companions on board be such as they ought to be. "let your passage be pleasant or not, take your bible for your constant companion. the comfort to be derived from the divine promises will always be sweet and seasonable. 'they that love thy law,' says the psalmist, 'nothing shall offend them.' if jesus be precious to your soul, you will be able to bear every trial with divine submission. to believe that jesus is your saviour, and that he is god over all blessed for evermore, will make you happy in the midst of the sea, as well as on dry land. wishing you a safe and pleasant passage, and a happy meeting of your friends in england, and praying that the god of all grace may preserve you and yours in his everlasting kingdom, i subscribe myself, "yours respectfully, "samuel marsden." more than two years had now passed since mr. marsden's last visit to new zealand. the close of the year found him preparing for another, his fifth voyage, of twelve hundred miles, to the scene of those missions he had so long regarded with all a parent's fondness. a great change had just taken place in the conduct of several chiefs towards the missionaries in consequence of their fierce intestine wars. at wangaroa the whole of the wesleyan missionary premises had been destroyed; the property of all the missionaries was frequently plundered, and their lives were exposed to the greatest danger. the worst consequences were apprehended, and the missionaries, warned of their danger by the friendly natives, were in daily expectation of being at least stripped of everything they possessed, according to the new zealand custom. for a time the wesleyan mission was suspended, and their pious and zealous missionary, mr. turner, took refuge at sydney, and found a home at the parsonage of paramatta. the clergy of the church mission deeply sympathized with him. mr. henry williams writes: "the return of mr. turner will be a convincing proof of our feelings on this point. in the present unsettled state of things we consider ourselves merely as tenants for the time being, who may receive our discharge at any hour." his brother, the rev. william williams, in another communication says: "we are prepared to depart or stay according to the conduct of the natives; for it is, i believe, our united determination to remain until we are absolutely driven away. when the natives are in our houses, carrying away our property, it will then be time for us to take refuge in our boats." as soon as the painful intelligence reached new south wales, mr. marsden determined to proceed to the bay of islands, and use his utmost exertions to prevent the abandonment of the mission. he was under no apprehension of suffering injury from the natives; and his long acquaintance with their character and habits led him to anticipate that the storm would soon pass away. accordingly, he sailed for new zealand in h.m.s. rainbow, and arrived in the bay of islands on the th april, . he had reached the period of life when even the most active crave for some repose, and feel themselves entitled to the luxury of rest; but his ardent zeal never seems to have wanted other refreshment than a change of duties and of scene. he found the state of things improved; peace had been restored; and the missionaries were once more out of danger. he conferred with them, and gave them spiritual counsel. as far as time would permit, he reasoned with the chiefs upon the baneful consequences of the late war, and, at the end of five days from his arrival, he was again upon the ocean, on his way back to sydney. "he was not wanted in new zealand;" in australia, besides domestic cares, many circumstances combined to make his presence desirable. thus he was instant in season, out of season; disinterested, nay indifferent and utterly regardless of the honours and preferments which even good men covet; and ever finding in the work itself, and in him for the love of whom it was undertaken, an abundant recompense. brief as the visit was, it confirmed his faith, and reassured his confidence in the speedy conversion of new zealand. he found the missionaries living in unity and godly love, and devoting themselves to the work. "i trust," he says, "that the great head of the church will bless their labours." in consequence of his co-operation with the missionaries, the beneficial labours of the press now for the first time reached the maori tribes. during a visit to sydney, mr. davis had carried through the press a translation of the first three chapters of genesis, the twentieth of exodus, part of the fifth of matthew, the first of john, and some hymns. these were small beginnings, but not to be despised; they prepared the way for the translation of the new testament into maori, which was printed a few years afterwards at the expense of the british and foreign bible society. the importance of this work can scarcely be estimated, and it affords a striking example of the way in which that noble institution becomes the silent handmaid, preparing the rich repast which our various missionary societies are ever more distributing abroad, with bounteous hand, to feed the starving myriads of the heathen world. nor was the polynesian mission forgotten by its old friend. the london missionary society now conducted its affairs on so wide a basis, and to so great an extent, that mr. marsden's direct assistance was no longer wanted. but how much he loved the work, how much he revered the missionaries, those who shall read the extract with which this chapter concludes will be at no loss to judge. "paramatta, february , . "my dear sir,--it is not long since i wrote to you, but as a friend of mine is returning, the rev. mr. nott, who has been twenty-seven years a missionary in the society islands, i could not deny myself the pleasure of introducing him to you. mr. nott was one of the first missionaries who was sent out to the islands. like caleb, he always said the missionaries were able to take the land. he remained a long time in tahiti alone, labouring by himself when all his colleagues were gone, and lived with and as the natives, under the full persuasion that the mission would succeed. he remained breaking up the ground, sowing the gospel seed, until he saw it spring up, and waiting until part of the harvest was gathered in, until many of the poor heathen crossed the river jordan, with the heavenly canaan full in view. such have been the fruits of his patient perseverance and faith. should his life be spared, i shall expect to see him again in fourteen months returning to his labours, to die amongst his people, and to be buried with them. "i venerate the man more than you can conceive: in my estimation, he is a great man: his piety, his simplicity, his meekness, his apostolic appearance, all unite to make him great in my view, and more honourable than any of the famed heroes of ancient or modern times. i think mrs. good will like to see such a character return from a savage nation, whom god has so honoured in his work. i shall leave mr. nott to tell his own story, while you listen to his report.... "i remain, my dear sir, "your's affectionately, "samuel marsden." "to john mason good, m.d." chapter xi. death of dr. mason good--malicious charges brought against mr. marsden and confuted--sixth voyage to new zealand--frightful state of the island--battle of the maories--their cannibalism--progress of the mission--mr. marsden's return--death of mrs. marsden--anticipation of his own decease. the shadows of evening now began to fall on him whose life had hitherto been full of energy, and to whom sickness appears to have been a stranger. he had arrived at the period when early friendships are almost extinct, and the few who survive are dropping into the grave. the year witnessed the death of dr. mason good. nearly twenty years had elapsed since he and mr. marsden had taken leave of one another; but their friendship had not cooled during that long term of absence; it seems rather to have gained strength with distance and declining years. dr. mason good felt, and gratefully acknowledged, that to the conversations, and yet more to the high example of mr. marsden, he owed it, under god, that he was led to seek, through faith in jesus, that holiness and peace which he found at last, and which shed so bright a lustre on his closing years. he had seen in his friend a living instance of disinterestedness, zeal, and humility combined, all springing from the love of god, and directed for christ's sake towards the welfare of man; such as he had never seen before--such as, he confessed, his own socinian principles were incapable of producing. far his superior as a scholar and a man of genius, he perceived and felt his inferiority in all that relates to the highest destinies of man; he sat, as a little child, a learner, in his presence; and god, who is rich in mercy, brought home the lessons to his soul. nothing, on the other hand, could exceed the respect, almost amounting to reverence, mingled however with the warmest affection, with which mr. marsden viewed his absent friend. in every difficulty he had recourse to him for advice; more than once he intrusted the defence of his character and reputation entirely to his discretion. a correspondence of nearly twenty years, a few specimens of which are in the reader's hand, show the depth of his esteem. upon his death a fuller tide of affection gushed out; while he wrote thus to the mourning widow:-- "paramatta, november , . "my dear mrs. good,--a few days ago we received two letters from your daughter m--, informing us of the death of your much revered husband. i had seen his death noticed in one of the london papers, but had not received any other information. i feel for all your loss. he was a blessing to the christian world, and to mankind at large. no one i esteemed more, and his memory will always be dear to me. when i was with you, he and i had many serious conversations on the subject of religion. "his great talents, united with his child-like simplicity, interested me much. i always experienced the greatest pleasure in his company, as well as advantage; in knowledge i found myself an infant in his presence, but yet at perfect ease. his gentle manners, his mild address, often made me forget to whom i was speaking; and after retiring from his presence i, on reflecting, have been ashamed that i should presume to talk to him as i had done, as if he were my equal. i never could account for the ease and freedom i felt in his company, in giving my opinion upon the various subjects we were wont to converse upon. he was a very learned man, and knew a thousand times more of men and things than i did, excepting on the subject of religion; here i always felt myself at home; and he would attend to what i said with the sweetest simplicity and the greatest openness of mind. in our various conversations on the most important doctrines of the gospel, he manifested a humble desire to know the truth, though he proceeded with great caution. i experienced no difficulty in my own mind in urging the truths of religion upon him, by every argument in my power. i always saw, or thought i saw, the day-star from on high dawning upon his mind; and my own soul was animated and refreshed whenever the subjects of the gospel engaged our conversation. perhaps our mutual friend, dr. gregory, may remember the observations i made to him, on what passed between your dear husband and myself, respecting religion, and what were my views of the state of his mind at that time; the period to which i allude was when he joined the church missionary society, or intended to join it. i had the firmest conviction in my mind that he would embrace the gospel, and cordially believe to the salvation of his soul. i could never account for that love which i have continued to have for dr. good, even here at the ends of the earth, but from the _communion of saints_. though the affliction of yourself and your dear daughters must be severe, having lost such a husband and father, yet you cannot sorrow as those without hope; you must be satisfied that the lord has taken him away from the evil to come; and as he cannot now return to you, comfort one another with the hope that you shall go to him. he finished his course with joy, and the work that had been given him to do; and came to the grave like a shock of corn that was fully ripe. this consideration should reconcile you to the divine dispensation, and constrain you to say, 'not my will, but thine be done.' you and your dear husband had travelled long together; few in this miserable world were so happy and blessed as you were for so long a period. remember all the way the lord hath led you in this wilderness; recall to mind his mercies of old, and bless his name. i have long wished to see you face to face; but that wish will never be gratified. the day may come when, in another and a better world, we may recount all our travels here below. we are sure that we are fast approaching to the end of our journey, and shall soon arrive at the banks of jordan. let us labour, my dear madam, to keep the promised land in view. you have the consolation of your two amiable daughters' company. i have never thought of mrs. n. but with feelings of sympathy, and regret for her loss in the death of her excellent husband. how mysterious are the ways of god! we cannot account for them now, but we shall know hereafter. as a father pitieth his own children, so is the lord merciful unto them that fear him. mrs. neale may derive comfort from the divine promises. there are many made to the widow and the fatherless, and god is never unmindful of his promises. when we arrive in mount zion, we shall then be satisfied with all the divine dispensations, and see cause to bless god for the severest. give my love to miss good; tell her how much i am obliged to her, for the communication she has made to me respecting her dear father.... "i am yours, very sincerely," he was still subject to the persecutions of "unreasonable and wicked men," and was again compelled to vindicate his conduct in a pamphlet, which issued from the press at sydney, in . transmitting a copy to his friend, the rev. josiah pratt, he says: "i consider myself a proscribed person these last few years. all the charges against me are contained in this pamphlet. my public offences, my illegal acts, the charges against me for inflicting torture to extort confession, for which i have been condemned unheard, and suffered as guilty. what an ungodly world may think or say of me, is of little moment; but i do not wish to lose the good opinion of my christian friends, and fall in their estimation." he returns to the subject in his correspondence with other christian friends; for the apprehension that in him the cause of religion might seem to have received a wound, lay heavy on his mind. "i should feel much," he says, writing to mr. d. coates, "if the cause of religion should suffer in my personal conduct; but i hope it will not. i hope i have said enough to satisfy the christian world that i am clear in this matter. to justify my public conduct, was an act due to my family and to all my christian friends, as well as the general interests of religion." nor was it merely the breath of slander that assailed him: he mentions in a private letter to the rev. edward bickersteth, an act of grievous wrong inflicted by the british government. "i and my family were all struck off the public victualling books in the latter part of governor macquarie's administration, without any compensation. the rev. r. cartwright and the rev. william cooper, with their families, were also struck off from the public stores at the same time. they have both had their claims settled since governor darling arrived. one received _l._, and the other more than _l._; but i have received nothing. my claim is equally just, had i only served the same period as my colleagues, though i have served nearly twenty years longer than either of them. i can only attribute this act of injustice to some hostile feeling in the colonial office. governor darling has always shown me every attention i could wish." yet he uttered no protest; he raised no clamour for redress. "i mention this circumstance to you," he adds, "_confidentially_: when the truth of my case is laid before the public, perhaps my superiors may think differently of my conduct, and do me common justice." whether he obtained redress we are not informed. the occurrence shows the depth and bitterness of those hostile feelings, which we can trace to no other cause on his part than his boldness in rebuking vice, and his fidelity to the cause of his lord and master. the year found mr. marsden once more upon the ocean. for neither increasing years nor the vexations through which he had passed damped his ardour in the missionary cause. his mind was stedfastly fixed on the progress of the gospel in new zealand, and there he was anxious once more in person to assist in carrying on the work. he felt that his time was growing short, and hastened, "before his decease," to "set in order the things which were wanting." he perceived, too, with mingled feelings, that new zealand was about to undergo a great change. his efforts to induce the chiefs to unite under one head or sovereign elected by themselves, had totally failed. shunghie had been slain in battle, and his ambitious projects of gaining a new zealand throne by conquest were at an end. war was the natural condition of all the maori tribes, and this, rendered more deadly, though possibly less ferocious, by the introduction of fire-arms, was fearfully thinning their numbers from year to year. they were subject, too, to periodical returns of a terrible scourge, a disease resembling the influenza, which cut off multitudes. on the whole, it was calculated, that not more than a hundred thousand maories now survived; while twenty years before, when the island was first visited, the numbers were at least two hundred thousand. it was evident that they could not long maintain their independence as a nation. european ships began to crowd the bay of islands. english settlers were already making their way into their choice and fertile lands. to minds less sagacious than mr. marsden's, the result could be no longer doubtful--new zealand must become an english colony. he foresaw the necessity, and, though at first with reluctance, cordially acquiesced in it, even for the sake of the maories themselves. his concern now was to prepare them for a measure which must sooner or later take place. everything was in a lawless state; the progress of the missions was greatly interrupted, and his presence was once more highly necessary. his own anxiety was great, first on behalf of the missions which had so long been the especial objects of his care; and then for new zealand at large that the policy of great britain should respect the rights of the native tribes and pledge itself to their protection. on his arrival in new zealand, in march, , he was greeted before the ship had cast anchor by the messrs. williams and others of the missionary band, who hastened on board, and expressed their joy at his unexpected appearance among them. it was a critical moment, for they were in greater anxiety and difficulty than they had experienced at any former period of the mission. the natives were at open war, and but a day or two before a great battle had been fought on the opposite beach of the bay of islands, in which about fourteen hundred had been engaged. the alleged cause of the war was the misconduct of an english captain who had offered indignities to some native women on board his vessel. one tribe espoused his cause, while another came forward to avenge the insult. six chiefs had fallen in the battle, and a hundred lives were lost; several whaling vessels were lying in the bay, and their crews as well as the missionary stations, were in the utmost peril from the revenge of the victorious tribe, which now lay encamped at keri-keri. there was not an hour to be lost. mr. marsden crossed the bay with mr. henry williams early the next morning, to visit the camp as a mediator. the chiefs, many of whom from different parts of the island, had formerly been acquainted with mr. marsden, all expressed their gratification at meeting him again. after conversing with them on different points connected with proposals of peace, the two friendly mediators crossed over to the camp of their opponents, and entered at once on the subject of their mission. they spoke to them of the evils of war, and more particularly of the civil war in which they were engaged. "they heard all we had to say with great attention, and several of them replied to the different arguments we had used. they contended that we were answerable for the lives of those who had fallen in the battle, as the war had been occasioned by the misconduct of the captain of a vessel one of our own countrymen; they wished to know what satisfaction we would give them for the loss of their friends who had been slain. we replied that we could give them no satisfaction, that we condemned his conduct, and were sorry that any of our countrymen had behaved so badly, and that we would write to england and prevent his return." this the savages requested that mr. marsden would not do; they longed for his return, that they might take their own revenge. mr. marsden then proceeded to inform them that he had had an interview with the chiefs on the other side, who were willing to come to terms of peace, and wished him to assist in settling their quarrel. this information was received in a friendly way by the greater part: one or two still wished to fight. the mediators now returned to the beach, which they found covered with war canoes and armed men. a war council was held, and the rev. henry williams stated the business upon which they had come amongst them. the natives listened attentively. many of the chiefs gave their opinion in turn, with much force and dignity of address. these orations continued from an early hour in the morning, till the shades of evening were closing. it was finally agreed that the mediating party should proceed the next morning to the opposite camp and repeat what had taken place. after a long discussion, it was concluded that two commissioners from each party should be appointed, along with mr. marsden and mr. williams, to conclude the terms of peace. having now urged all that was in their power to bring about a reconciliation, they walked over the ground where the battle had been fought; a dreadful scene under any circumstances, unutterably loathsome, where cannibals were the contending parties. "the remains of some of the bodies that had been slain were lying unconsumed on the fires; the air was extremely offensive, and the scene most disgusting. we could not but bitterly lament these baneful effects of sin, and the influence of the prince of darkness over the minds of the poor heathen." the next day was sunday, it was spent by mr. williams at the camp, for it was not considered safe at present to leave the savage warriors, whose angry passions smouldered. mr. marsden proceeded to the station, and preached to the infant church. never was the gospel of christ placed in finer contrast with the kingdom of darkness, and the appalling tyranny of the god of this world. mr. marsden's pen thus describes the scene as he sketched it upon the spot: "the contrast between the state of the east and west side of the bay was very striking. though only two miles distant, the east shore was crowded with different tribes of fighting men in a wild savage state, many of them nearly naked, and when exercising entirely naked; nothing was to be heard but the firing of muskets, the noise, din, and commotion of a savage military camp; some mourning the death of their friends, others suffering from their wounds, and not one but whose mind was involved in heathen darkness without one ray of divine knowledge. on the other side was the pleasant sound of the church going bell; the natives assembling together for divine worship, clean, orderly and decently dressed, most of them in european clothing; they were carrying the litany and the greatest part of the church service, written in their own language, in their hands with their hymns. the church service, as far as it has been translated, they can write and read. their conduct and the general appearance of the whole settlement reminded me of a well-regulated english country parish. in the chapel, the natives behaved with the greatest propriety, and joined in the church service. here might be viewed at one glance the blessings of the christian religion, and the miseries of heathenism with respect to the present life; but when we extend one thought over the eternal world how infinite is the difference!" these were trying times undoubtedly. the missions had existed fifteen years, and yet the powers of darkness raged in all the horrors of cannibal warfare, close to the doors of the missionary premises. on the following tuesday morning, mr. marsden was aroused from his bed by a chief calling at his window to tell him that the army was in motion, and that a battle seemed to be at hand. he arose immediately and was informed that thirty-six canoes had been counted passing between the main and the island. he immediately launched the missionary boat and proceeded to meet them. "when we came up to them we found they had left their women and children on the island, and that they were all fighting men, well armed and ready for action in a moment's notice. i counted more than forty men in one war canoe." yet amongst these infuriated savages the missionaries felt no alarm. "we were under no apprehension of danger; both parties placed the utmost confidence in us, and we were fully persuaded the commissioners would be cordially received." if the event had turned out otherwise mr. marsden and his friends had notice given them by the native commissioners, of whom we have spoken, that they would be seen alive no more. "the three native commissioners accompanied us in a small canoe which they paddled themselves. they brought their canoe between our two boats, and in that position we approached the beach. they told us if they were killed, we must be given up to their friends as a sacrifice for the loss of their lives." the missionaries' confidence was not misplaced; "the whole day was spent in deliberation; at night, after a long oration, the great chief on one side clove a stick in two to signify that his anger was broken. the terms of peace were ratified, and both sides joined in a hideous war dance together; repeatedly firing their muskets. we then took our departure from these savage scenes with much satisfaction, as we had attained the object we were labouring for." such scenes did not for an instant disturb the firm faith and confidence of the great missionary leader. coming from the midst of them he could sit down in the missionary hut and write as follows: "the time will come when human sacrifices and cannibalism shall be annihilated in new zealand, by the pure, mild and heavenly influence of the gospel of our blessed lord and saviour. the work is great, but divine goodness will find both the means and the instruments to accomplish his own gracious purposes to fallen man. his word, which is the sword of the spirit, is able to subdue these savage people to the obedience of faith. it is the duty of christians to use the means, to sow the seed and patiently to wait for the heavenly dews to cause it to spring up, and afterwards to look up to god in faith and prayer to send the early and latter rain." even now the "day-spring from on high" had visited this savage race. in no part of the world was the sabbath day more sacredly observed than by the converts in the missionary settlements; their lives gave evidence that their hearts were changed. spiritual religion, deep and earnest, began to show its fruit in some of them; others were at least much impressed with the importance of eternal things. mr. marsden was waited upon one evening by several native young men and women who wished to converse on religious subjects; when they came in their anxious countenances explained the inward working of their minds; their object was to know what they must do to be saved. he endeavoured to set before them the love of jesus in coming from heaven to die for a ruined world, and mentioned many instances of his love and mercy which he showed to sinners while on earth. "when i had addressed them at some length," he adds, "a young native woman begun to pray." "i never heard any address offered up to heaven with such feelings of reverence, and piety, so much sweetness and freedom of expression, with such humility and heavenly mindedness. i could not doubt but that this young woman prayed with the spirit, and with the understanding. she prayed fervently that god would pardon her sins and preserve her from evil; and for all the natives in the room, that they might all be preserved from falling into the temptations by which they were surrounded. her very soul seemed to be swallowed up with the sense she had of the evil and danger of sin, and the love of jesus, who came to save sinners. her voice was low, soft and harmonious; her sentences were short and expressed in the true spirit of prayer. i never expected to have seen, in my day, any of the natives of this barbarous nation offering up their supplications for pardon and grace, to the only true god, with such godly sorrow and true contrition." amongst the audience in the room were the aged widow and two daughters of the great shunghie. when they rose from their knees the ex-queen exclaimed, "astonishing, astonishing!" and then retired; "and i confess," adds mrs. marsden, "i was not less astonished than she was." the young woman he learned had for some time lived upon the mission premises, and conducted herself in all respects as a christian, adorning the gospel she professed. a few days after we find mr. marsden "marrying an englishman to a native christian woman, who repeated the responses very correctly in english which she well understood; she conducted herself with the greatest propriety, and appeared neatly dressed in european clothing of her own making, for she was a good sempstress." mr. marsden considered, he says, this marriage to be of the first importance; and the new zealanders appear to have been of the same mind, and to have done due honour to the occasion: for "the company came in a war canoe and brought their provisions with them, a pig and plenty of potatoes." shortly afterwards, he united a young native man and woman in marriage, they were both christians, domestic servants to mr. clarke, one of the missionaries, and seemed to have a great affection for each other. the young man was free and of a good family; the young woman was a slave, having become such by capture; for all their prisoners of war if not massacred were reduced to slavery. mr. clarke therefore redeemed her from her master, for five blankets, an axe, and an iron-pot. a chief seldom allowed any of his female slaves to marry, always reserving a number of them as wives for himself. we must therefore suppose that the price was a very liberal one. the effects of christianity were now apparent in some favoured spots, and mr. marsden returned home again full of hope and consolation. he had witnessed already changes far greater than he had ever hoped to see, sanguine as he was of ultimate success. so confident was he in the good feeling of the natives towards himself, that he had taken one of his daughters with him, and she accompanied him in his visits to the chiefs, one of whom, known by the title of king george, demanded her in marriage for his son; "an honour," writes her father, "which i begged permission to decline." fearful indeed had been the condition of females hitherto amongst these savages, as the following extract, with which we conclude our notice of mr. marsden's sixth visit to new zealand, sufficiently attests. he is describing the great change which christianity had effected among the new zealanders. "on one of my former visits to new zealand, sitting in the room i am at present in, the natives killed and ate a poor young woman just behind the house. but what a wonderful change the gospel has wrought! in this little spot, where so late hellish songs were sung and heathen rites performed, i now hear the songs of zion, and the voice of prayer offered up to the god of heaven. so wonderful is the power of god's word." he returned home greatly cheered and well qualified "to comfort others with the comforts wherewith" he himself "was comforted of god." to mrs. good, the widow of his departed friend, he wrote as follows, soon afterwards: "paramatta, august , . "my dear mrs. good,--we received miss good's letter, which gave us much concern to learn that you had met with such severe trials.... how mysterious are the ways of god! we cannot comprehend them now, but we are assured, that what we know not at present we shall know hereafter. our heavenly father has promised that all things shall work together for good to them that love god, and the scriptures cannot be broken. he willingly suffers none of his children to be afflicted. in the end we shall find that he hath done all things well. at present our trials may bear heavy upon us, but st. paul tells us they are but for a moment, and eventually will work for us a far more exceeding weight of eternal glory. job, when he had lost all his children and property exclaimed, 'naked came i out of my mother's womb, and naked shall i return; the lord gave and the lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the lord.' we know infinite wisdom cannot err in any of his dispensations towards us, and he will never leave or forsake them that trust in him. i pray that the father of mercies may support you under all your trials and afflictions. the very remembrance of the pleasure i experienced in the society of your ever-to-be-revered husband is very refreshing to my mind. we often speak of you all, and humbly pray that we may meet again in another and a better world. i am now almost seventy years old, and i cannot but be thankful, when i look back and consider how the lord hath led me all my life long. i have gone through many dangers by land, by water, amongst the heathen and amongst my own countrymen, robbers and murderers, by night and by day; but though i have been robbed, no personal injury have i ever received, not so much as a bone broken. i have also had to contend with many wicked and unreasonable men in power, but the lord in his providence ordered all for good. most of them are now in the silent grave, and i have much peace and comfort in the discharge of my public duty, and i bless god for it. i have visited new zealand six times. the mission prospers very much; the lord has blessed the missionaries in their labours, and made their work to prosper. "i am happy to say my family are all pretty well.... mrs. m. enjoys her health well at her age, so that we have everything to be thankful for. the colony increases very fast in population; women arrived from europe a few days ago. provisions are very cheap and in great plenty. our number increases some thousands every year, so that there is a prospect of this country becoming great and populous. your daughter mentions the sheep; she will be astonished to hear that one million eight hundred thousand pounds of wool, were exported last year from new south wales to england, and we may expect a very great annual increase from the fineness of the climate, and the extent of pasturage.... wool will prove the natural wealth of these colonies and of vast importance to the mother country also. we are very much in want of pious ministers.... none but pious men will be of any service in such a society as ours.... i should wish to go to england again to select some ministers, if i were not so very old; but this i cannot do, and therefore i must pray to the great head of the church, to provide for those sheep who are without a shepherd. "may i request you to remember us affectionately to mrs. neale and dr. gregory--i pray that you and yours may be supported under every trial, and that they may be all sanctified to your eternal good. i remain, dear mrs. good, "yours affectionately. "samuel marsden." in , mrs. marsden died. she had long been patiently looking forward to her great change, and her last end was full of peace. years had not abated his love for his "dear partner;" so he always called her when, after her decease, he had occasion to speak of her. he showed her grave, in sight of his study window, with touching emotion to his friends, and felt himself almost released from earth and its attractions when she had left it. his own increasing infirmities had led him to anticipate that he should be first removed, and the parsonage house being his only by a life tenure, he had built a comfortable residence for his widow, which however, she did not live to occupy. by this bereavement he was himself led to view the last conflict as near at hand; henceforward it constantly occupied his mind, and formed at times the chief subject of his conversation. he sometimes spoke of it amongst his friends with a degree of calmness, and at the same time with such a deep sense of its nearness and reality, as to excite their apprehensions as well as their astonishment. he stood on the verge of eternity and gazed into it with a tranquil eye, and spoke of what he saw with the composure of one who was "now ready to be offered, and the time of whose departure was at hand;"--his last text before he had quitted new zealand. yet he was not at all times equally serene. returning one day from a visit to a dying bed, he called at the residence of a brother minister, the rev. r. cartwright, in a state of some dejection. he entered on the subject of death with feeling, and expressed some fears with regard to his own salvation. mr. cartwright remarked upon the happiness of himself and his friend as being both so near to their eternal rest, to which mr. marsden seriously replied with emphasis, "but mr. c----, _if_ i am there." "if, mr. marsden?" rejoined his friend, surprised at the doubt implied. the aged disciple then brought forward several passages of scripture bearing upon the deep responsibility of the ministerial office coupled with his own unworthiness; "lest i myself should be a castaway;" "if we hold the beginning of our confidence stedfast unto the end;" remarking on his own sinfulness,--every thing he had done being tainted with sin,--on his utter uselessness,--and contrasting all this with the holiness and purity of god. at another time, coming from the factory after a visit to a dying woman, and deeply impressed with the awfulness of a dying hour in the case of one who was unprepared to die, he repeated in a very solemn manner some lines from blair's once celebrated poem on the grave-- "in that dread moment how the frantic soul raves round the walls of her clay tenement, runs to each avenue and shrieks for help, but shrieks in vain. how wistfully she looks on all she is leaving; now no longer hers. a little longer, yet a little longer. oh! might she stay to wash away her crimes, and fit her for her passage." he then spoke on the plan of salvation and the grace offered by the gospel with great feeling. the holiness and purity of god appeared at times to overwhelm his soul; contrasting it, as he did, with his own sinfulness, and viewing it in connexion with the fact that he must soon stand before his awful presence. yet he speedily recovered his habitual peace, recalling the blessed truth that "there is now no condemnation to them which are in christ jesus." he was still on the whole a most cheerful christian, joying and rejoicing in the hope of a blessed immortality. and as he drew near his journey's end his prospects were still brighter and his peace increased. chapter xii. state of new south wales--the aborigines--cruelties practised upon them--attempts to civilize and convert them--they fail--mr. marsden's seventh visit to new zealand--his daughter's journal--affection of the natives--progress of the mission--danger from european vices--returns in h.m.s rattlesnake to sydney. history affords but few examples of a change such as new south wales had undergone since mr. marsden landed from a convict ship in the penal settlement of botany bay in the year . the gold fields had not yet disclosed their wealth, nor did he live to see the stupendous consequences which resulted from their discovery in , the rush of european adventurers, and the sudden transformation of the dismal solitudes of bendigo and ballarat into the abode of thousands of restless, enterprising men, with all the attendant circumstances, both good and evil, of civilized life. but australia was already a vast colony; in almost everything except the name, an empire, self-supporting, and with regard to its internal affairs, self governed, though still under the mild control, borne with loyalty and pride, of the english sovereign. the state of society was completely changed. for many years, the stream of emigration had carried to the fertile shores of australia not the refuse of our jails, but some of the choicest of our population; the young, the intelligent, the enterprising, and the high principled, who sought for a wider field of action, or disdained to live at home, useless to society, and a burden to their relatives. large towns such as sydney, victoria, geelong and melbourne, with their spacious harbours crowded with shipping, were already in existence, and english settlers had covered with their flocks those inland plains which long after mr. marsden's arrival still lay desolate and unexplored. the religious condition of australia was no less changed. all denominations were now represented by a ministry, and accommodated in places of worship not at all inferior to those at home. the church of england had erected sydney into a bishopric, of which the pious and energetic archdeacon broughton was the first incumbent, and the number of the colonial clergy had been greatly increased; under all these influences the tone of social morality was improved, and real spiritual religion won its triumphs in many hearts. mr. marsden was now released from those official cares and duties as senior chaplain which once so heavily pressed upon him. beyond his own parish of paramatta his ministerial labours did not necessarily extend, and in his parish duties he had the efficient aid of his son-in-law and other coadjutors. [illustration: paramatta church.] the one spot on which no cheering ray seemed to fall, the sterile field which after years of laborious cultivation yielded no return, was the native population, the aborigines of new south wales. we have mentioned some of the many futile attempts made for their conversion; more might be added; for various missions were devised,--by the society for the propagation of the gospel in foreign parts, aided by the colonial government; by the wesleyan and the church missionary societies; and by the london missionary society; but none of these met with much success, and we fear all have been in turn abandoned. the mission of mr. threlkeld, on the margin of lake macquarie deserves especial notice. it was continued for upwards of fourteen years; during the first six years at the charges of the london missionary society, but owing to the heavy expense, and the slow progress of the mission, they withdrew from it after an outlay of about three thousand pounds. mr. threlkeld was reluctant to give up the mission, and pursued it for some time from his own resources and those of his friends, with a small grant of a hundred and fifty pounds a-year from the british government, who also made over ten thousand acres of land to be held on trust on behalf of the natives. mr. threlkeld seems to have been admirably fitted for his work; he had been the fellow labourer of the martyr john williams, of erromanga, and left the tahitian mission in consequence of heavy domestic afflictions. he had spent much time in acquiring a knowledge of the language of the "blacks" or aborigines, of which he drew up a grammar, besides translating some portions of scripture, watts's hymns, and other suitable works. he had generally three or four tribes resident around him upon the land granted for their use. occasionally he employed from twelve to sixty of them in burning off the timber and clearing the land, an employment which they liked best. at this they would continue for eight or ten days at a time, until some native custom, or the report of the hostile intention of some neighbouring tribe, called them off, perhaps never to return. harmless as they seemed, their customs were ferocious; the tribes were constantly at war, and upon human life they set no value; they had no law against murder, and consequently no punishment for it. a man may murder his wife, or child, or any other relative with impunity; but if a person murder another who is no way connected with him, the nearest of kin to the murdered person will sometimes avenge his death; though this seldom happens unless the delinquent and the sufferer are of different tribes. it is only as they become acquainted with the customs of europeans that human life is regarded. in their native wilds they sport with the sufferings both of man and beast. at different periods, mr. threlkeld erected huts, but in these they could not be induced to live, alleging the accumulation of vermin and the fear of other natives coming in the night and spearing them without a possibility of escape. on urging them to plant corn on a piece of ground he had prepared for them, they replied it would be useless, as the tribes from the neighbouring sugar loaf mountain, although on friendly terms, would come down and take it away when ripe. mr. threlkeld attributed the failure of his mission partly to the want of funds, but still more to the influx of european settlers. he deeply deplored the want of legal protectors, both to prevent the ferocious attacks of the blacks upon each other, and to protect them from the white man's atrocities. "i am firmly of opinion," adds mr. threlkeld, in the annual report of his mission for the year , "that a protector of aborigines will be fully employed in investigating cases of the cruelty of european settlers, which are both numerous and shocking to humanity, and in maintaining their civil rights." he had but too much reason to express himself thus. the cases of oppression which he himself describes, are most revolting. in one instance, a stockman, or herdsman, boasted to his master of having killed six or seven black men with his own hands, when in pursuit of them with his companions; for they were hunted down in mere wantonness and sport. he was merely dismissed from his employer's service. in another, a party of stockmen went out, some depredation having been committed by the blacks in spearing their cattle, took a black prisoner, tied his arms, and then fastened him to the stirrup of a stockman on horseback to drag him along. when the party arrived near their respective stations they separated, leaving the stockman to conduct the prisoner to his own hut. the black, when he found they were alone, was reluctant to proceed, and struggled to get free, when the stockman took his knife from his pocket, coolly stuck the black in the throat, and left him for dead. the poor fellow crawled to the house of a gentleman dwelling on the plains, told his tale, and died. these are but specimens of cruelties, too numerous and too horrible to relate. the blacks, of course, retaliated, and military parties were sent out against them. on the st october, , the executive council of the colony declared in their minutes, "that the outrages of the aboriginal natives amount to a complete declaration of hostilities against the settlers generally," but they forgot to add that these hostilities had been provoked in every instance by the wanton aggression of the europeans. martial law was again proclaimed in october, , against the natives, and the governor at length determined to call upon the inhabitants to take up arms, and join the troops in forming a military cordon, by means of which he proposed to drive the aborigines into tasman's peninsula. the inhabitants responded to the call, and an armed force of between two and three thousand men were in the field from the th october till the th november; but the attempt entirely failed. mr. marsden lived to see the beginnings of a better system, though from his advanced age he was now no longer able to take an active part in the formation of new institutions. before his death, a society had been formed in the colony for the protection of the aborigines, and government had also appointed protectors to defend them against wanton outrage. this was a great advance in a colony where, lieutenant sadleir (who had the charge of the school at paramatta for the aborigines) tells us, that on his first tour up the country he saw the skull of a celebrated native, in which was visible the hole where the ball had penetrated the forehead, placed over a gentleman's bookcase in his sitting-room; "a trophy," he says, "which he prized very much, of his success in one of those exterminating excursions then sometimes undertaken, when the natives were hunted down like beasts of prey to be destroyed." but it was not till the year that an act was passed by the legislative council giving extensive powers to certain "commissioners of lands," who were also magistrates of the territory, to put a stop to the atrocities so extensively committed beyond the boundaries, both by the aborigines and the european settlers. the governor drew attention to this act in a proclamation worthy of his high office. "as human beings," he remarks, "partaking of our common nature, as the aboriginal possessors of the soil from which the wealth of the country has been principally derived, and as subjects of the queen, whose authority extends over every part of new holland, the natives of the colony have an equal right with the people of european origin to the protection and assistance of the law of england. "his excellency thinks it right further to inform the public that each succeeding despatch from the secretary of state marks in an increasing degree the importance which her majesty's government, and no less the parliament and the people of great britain, attach to the just and humane treatment of the aborigines of this country, and to declare most earnestly and solemnly his deep conviction that there is no subject or matter whatsoever in which the interests as well as the honour of the colonists are more essentially concerned." his excellency was soon called upon to bring his professions of impartial justice to the test. a few weeks only after the date of the proclamation, seven monsters in human shape, convicts who had been assigned as stockmen to some of the settlers in the interior, influenced, it would seem, by no other motive than a fiendish determination to exterminate the unhappy natives, set out on horseback in pursuit of their victims. one charles kilmaister was their leader. they were traced in their progress, inquiring after blacks, and at last it appeared they arrived at a hut near the orawaldo, commonly called the big river, beyond liverpool plains. here they discovered a little tribe of about thirty natives, men, women, and children, including babes at their mothers' breasts, assembled in the bush, unsuspicious of danger, and unconscious of offence. it was on sunday. they immediately approached their victims, who, terrified at their manner, ran into kilmaister's hut, crying for protection; but they appealed to hearts of stone. the bandits having caught them as it were in a trap, dismounted and followed them into the hut, and, despite of their entreaties, tied them together with a rope. when all were thus secured, one end of the rope was tied round the body of the foremost of the murderers, who, having mounted his horse, led the way, dragging the terrified group after him, while his infamous companions guarded them on all sides. onward they were dragged till a fitting place in the bush was reached, when the work of slaughter commenced, and unresisting, these hapless wretches, one after the other, were brutally butchered. fathers, and mothers, and children, fell before the previously sharpened swords of their executioners, till all lay together a lifeless mass, clinging to each other even in death, as with the throes of natural affection. but one shot was fired, so that it was presumed one only perished by fire-arms. the precise number thus immolated has not been accurately ascertained, but it is computed not less than thirty lay stretched on their own native soil. the demon butchers then placed the bodies in a heap, kindled an immense fire over them, and so endeavoured to destroy the evidence of their unheard-of brutality. the eye of providence, however, was not to be thus blinded; and although for a time the miscreants imagined they had effectually disguised their horrible work, circumstances led to their apprehension. birds of prey were seen hovering about the spot where the unconsumed remains yet rotted on the ground. stockmen in search of their strayed cattle were attracted to the place, supposing they should find their carcasses. in this way it was that the ribs, jaw-bones, half-burned skulls, and other portions of human skeletons were found, while symptoms of the conflagration in the vicinity were likewise discovered. this led to inquiry, and ultimately to the discovery of the horrible truth. the place was fifty miles from the nearest police station. the whole of the villains were apprehended, and their own admissions and conduct, both previous and subsequent to the atrocious deed, added to a chain of circumstantial evidence, left no doubt of their guilt. it chanced that the night previous to the murders a heavy rain had fallen, and traces were thus discovered of horses feet, as well as of the naked feet of the wretched natives, on the way to the field of death. the chief witness, a respectable man, scarce dared, however, to return to the district, so strong was the sympathy expressed towards these miscreants, even by persons of influence, some of whom were magistrates. all possible pains were taken to save them from condign punishment; subscriptions were made for their defence, and counsel retained, but in vain; their guilt was established beyond a doubt, and sir george gipps, the governor, suffered the law to take its righteous course. yet the progress of humanity and righteousness was very slow, and mr. marsden did not live to see equal justice, not to speak of gospel truth or english liberty, carried to the aborigines. in the very year of his death, an effort was made by the attorney-general of the colony to pass a bill to enable the courts of justice to receive the evidence of the blacks, hitherto inadmissible. the chief justice of australia gave his sanction to the measure. in laying this bill before the council, as the law officer of the crown, the attorney-general gave some painful instances of its necessity. there was then, he said, lying in his office a very remarkable case, in which there was no doubt a considerable number of blacks had been shot, but in consequence of not being able to take the evidence of the blacks who witnessed the transaction, it was impossible to prosecute, although there was proof that certain parties went into the bush in a certain direction with fire-arms, and that shots were heard. the dead bodies of blacks were afterwards found there, the skulls of some of them being marked with bullets. on the other hand five blacks were convicted of a larceny, and could be convicted of no higher offence, although those who heard the case must have been convinced that they had murdered two white men; but, because the blacks, who knew how the murder was committed, could not be heard as witnesses, it was impossible to prosecute them for the murder. the bill only went so far as to allow the blacks to be heard,--"to allow them to tell their own story; the jury might believe them or not as their evidence was corroborated circumstantially, or by other witnesses." yet this simple instalment of justice was denied, and the bill was rejected by the legislative council. such are some of the crimes through which even england, just and generous england, has ascended her dazzling throne of colonial empire. when we tear aside the veil of national pride, how gloomy are the recesses of our colonial history; how large the amends which britain owes to every native population which god has intrusted to her care! mr. marsden was now seventy-two years of age. on every side the friends of his youth were falling, and he was bowed down with bodily infirmities, the natural consequence of a life of toil. he often pointed to an aged tree which grew in sight of his windows, as an emblem of himself. it had once stood in the middle of a thick wood, surrounded on all sides with fine timber; which the waste of years and the ruthless axe had levelled; now it stood alone, exposed to every blast, its branches broken off, its trunk decayed and its days numbered. yet he resolved to pay another, his seventh, and, as it proved, his last visit to new zealand. it was thought by his friends, that he would never live to return. his age and infirmities seemed to unfit him for any great exertion of either mind or body; but having formed the resolution, nothing could now deter him, or divert him from it. he sailed on the th february, , in the pyramus, accompanied by his youngest daughter, and he seemed to be cheered by the reflection that if he should die upon his voyage he should die in his harness and upon the battle field on which god had chosen him to be a leader. and yet his sturdy spirit scarcely bowed itself to such misgivings. as on former visits, he had no sooner landed than his whole soul was invigorated by scenes from which most others would have shrunk. he landed on the southern side of the island, at the river hokianga, and remained amongst the wesleyan missionaries for about a fortnight; after which he crossed over to the bay of islands, carried all the way in a litter by the natives. in this way he visited the whole of the missionary stations in the neighbourhood of the bay of islands, as well as kaitaia, a station at the north cape. on the arrival of h. m. s. rattlesnake, he accompanied captain hobson (afterwards governor of new zealand), to the river thames, and the east cape, returning at length to sydney in that ship, where he arrived on the th of july after an absence of five months. when entering the heads of port jackson, one of the officers of the ship observed, "i think mr. m. you may look upon this as your last visit to new zealand;" upon which he replied, "no i don't, for i intend to be off again in about six weeks, the people in the colony are becoming too fine for me now. i am too old to preach before them, but i can talk to the new zealanders." of this, his last visit, we must give some account. captain livesay of the pyramus, in a valuable letter to mr. nicholas, has given some interesting reminiscences of his passenger:-- "devonport, november , . "my dear sir,-- ... i looked forward to meeting you with inexpressible delight, to talk about our much esteemed friend mr. marsden, and compare notes about new zealand; but we are born to disappointment, although i shall still look forward to have that pleasure on my return to england. "from the last account i had of mr. marsden, previous to my quitting new zealand, i was informed that the trip had done him much good. when he left the ship, and indeed when i last saw him, which was a month afterwards, he used to walk with a great stoop; he was then able to walk upright, and take considerable exercise. the dear old man! it used to do my heart good to see his pious zeal in his master's cause. nothing ever seemed a trouble to him. he was always calm and cheerful, even under intense bodily suffering, which was the case sometimes from the gravel, which caused him great distress. his daughter martha was a very great comfort to him; she was constantly with him, and very affectionate in her attentions. i did hope my next voyage would have been to new south wales, that i might have the pleasure of seeing him once more, should god have spared him so long; but that thought must now be given up." ... the remainder of the letter has reference to the state and prospects of new zealand. the sentiments are honourable to a british sailor. how happy it would have been for the maori race, had all english captains who visited the bay of islands, been such men as captain livesay! he says, "it affords me great satisfaction to find that a committee are forming for the colonization of new zealand, on the scale you intimate. it is very much to be desired indeed; as the poor natives are becoming a prey and a sacrifice to a set of dissolute wretches who do all in their power to sink the savage into the perfect brute, or by design and craft to cheat them out of all their possessions. even those who call themselves respectable, are amongst this number, and one or two, to my certain knowledge, have purchased an immense extent of land for a mere song, depriving the rising generation of all their claims. the new zealanders are upon the whole, a fine and intelligent race, capable of much if well directed. they are accused of low cunning, and covetousness in their dealings with the europeans. let the question be asked, who taught them to be so? why, the europeans themselves. they are said to be ferocious. i maintain that they are not half so much so as our own ancestors in the barbarous times of britain; and where christianity has been properly introduced, they are quite a different race of beings. let but the ill weeds that have taken root there be torn up, and the wholesome plant of industry and sobriety, with the spirit of the gospel, sown in its place, and all the savage will soon cease to be." the "ill weeds" were springing up apace, and, as a consequence, the missionary cause was once more in peril. an english barque had lately been wrecked upon the coast, but fortunately mr. guard the captain, his wife, two children, and the crew, twenty-eight in all, escaped to land. at first, according to the statement of the captain, the natives treated them with kindness, which they soon exchanged, under what pretext, or in consequence of what provocations on either side, it would be useless to ask, for open hostilities. a quarrel was got up between two native tribes, and an engagement followed, in which twelve europeans, and about forty maories fell. guard and his party were taken prisoners. it shows how great an improvement had taken place amongst the natives, that they were not massacred and devoured; but, on condition of returning with a cask of powder as a ransom for himself and the rest, guard and five of his men were allowed to proceed, without further molestation, to sydney; where he laid the matter before sir richard bourke the governor. relying on the accuracy of guard's narrative, the governor, with the advice of the executive council, requested captain lambert to proceed with h.m.s. alligator, which happened to be lying in port jackson, to obtain the restoration of the british subjects, then in the hands of the new zealanders. he was instructed to abstain from any act of retaliation, and to obtain the restoration of the captives by amicable means; and guard and his five men returned in the same ship. soon after the arrival of the party at new zealand, guard recognised the chief who was now the proprietor of the shipwrecked woman and children; and the unsuspicious native rubbed noses with him in token of amity, at the same time expressing his readiness to give up his prisoners on receiving the "payment" guaranteed to him. this, however was not the way in which the affair was to be settled; guard and his sailors seized him as a prisoner, and dragged him into the whale boat in which the party had gone ashore. the cruelty practised towards this unfortunate man, and the fearful havoc committed by the english, we gladly pass over. such iniquitous transactions reflect but little credit on us as a christian or a civilized people; and they were, moreover, in direct opposition to the benevolent instructions of sir richard bourke. the british subjects were restored; as indeed they might have been without the loss of a single life, through the intervention of the missionaries, and of the british resident at the bay of islands, and the expedition having gained its object by force and stratagem, returned to sydney with the troops and the liberated captives. this painful affair, as well as other acts of outrage, on the part of the natives, which were its natural consequence, made a deep impression at the time, and were a source of great uneasiness to mr. marsden. he saw at once the danger to which they exposed the missionaries and their cause, and felt, no doubt, a just reliance on himself. unarmed and unprotected, had he been upon the spot, he would have accomplished more in his own person than all those warlike measures had effected, which anew embittered the maori race against the europeans. his record of his farewell visit was probably not kept with his former accuracy; but the chasm is well supplied by the interesting journal of his daughter, some extracts from which the reader will peruse with pleasure. we have the whole scene placed before us by her graceful pen, and we gain some glimpse into her father's character, which we should certainly not have gathered from his own modest, self-forgetting, memoranda. "_february , sunday._--had service on deck. the rev. mr. wilkinson read prayers, and my father preached. the sailors were very attentive; the service was truly interesting from its novelty and the impressiveness of the scene; nothing around us but the wide waste of waters. "_ th._--at the suggestion of captain l----, reading in the evenings was introduced. we began the history of columbus, by washington irving, and the arrangement is that we are to read by turns." the weather proved boisterous, and it was not before the st they made the land. "_ nd._--up early on deck to view the land, which presented a very bold and romantic appearance. "not being able to obtain a pilot, the captain determined, lest he should lose the tide, hokianga being a bar harbour, to take the vessel in himself. the dead lights were put in, and every arrangement made as we approached the bar. not a voice was heard but that of the captain and the two men in the chains, heaving the lead. every sailor was at his station, and the anchors in readiness to let go at a moment's warning. we sounded as shallow as 'a quarter less four,' when the ladies became alarmed, though we were obliged to keep our fears to ourselves, as the gentlemen very politely left us. the wind being light, the fear was the breakers would have overtaken the ship, thrown her upon her beam ends, and rendered her unmanageable; but providence guided and preserved us. "i seldom remember a more beautiful scene; the moon is near its full, and the banks of the river are very high, covered with the most luxuriant foliage. we were so delighted with the scenery that we would willingly have stayed up all night. as we proceeded up, the mountains appeared to lessen into hills. several native hamlets, and two or three residences of europeans, show that the busy hand of man has been engaged in the work of redeeming the wilderness from the wild dominion of nature. anchored near the wesleyan mission station, where we were kindly welcomed by mr. and mrs. turner. the mission here has been established nearly nine years; they have a neat chapel and one or two comfortable houses, and are about to form an additional station. the missionaries related several instances of the melancholy death of various new zealanders who have opposed the progress of the mission. one chief became so incensed against the 'atua,' for the death of his child, that he formed a circle of gunpowder, placed himself in the centre, and fired it. the explosion did not immediately destroy him; he lingered a few weeks in dreadful agony, and then died. "_saturday._--the natives are coming in great numbers to attend divine worship. mr. turner preached, and afterwards my father addressed them. they listened with earnest attention, and were much pleased. many of the old chiefs were delighted to see my father, and offered to build him a house, if he would remain. one said, 'stay with us and learn our language, and then you will become our father and our friend, and we will build you a house.' 'no,' replied another, 'we cannot build a house good enough, but we will hire europeans to do it for us.' "the whole congregation joined in the responses and singing, and though they have not the most pleasing voices, yet it was delightful to hear them sing one of the hymns commencing 'from egypt lately come.'" the journey across from hokianga to the waimaté, as described by miss martha marsden, shows, in the absence of railroads and steam carriages, an agreeable if not expeditious mode of conveyance. "took leave of mrs. turner; and, mounted in a chair on the shoulders of two new zealanders, i headed the procession. my father, mr. wilkinson, and the two children, were carried in 'kaw-shores,' or native biers, on which they carry their sick. we entered a forest of five miles, then stopped to dine. the natives soon cooked their potatoes, corn, etc., in their ovens, which they scoop in the sand, and after heating a number of stones, the potatoes are put in, covered with grass and leaves, and a quantity of water poured upon them; they were exquisitely steamed. as i approached one of the groups sitting at dinner, i was much affected by seeing one of them get up and ask a blessing over the basket of potatoes. "five miles from waimaté i left my chair, mounted on horseback, and reached waimaté for breakfast. old nini accompanied us the whole way, and told my father if he attempted to ride he would leave him. the natives carried him the whole way with the greatest cheerfulness, and brought him through the most difficult places with the greatest ease. the distance they carried him was about twenty miles." the state of all the missions with regard to their spiritual work was now full of hope. of the wesleyan mission mr. marsden himself reports, "i found that many were inquiring after the saviour, and that a large number attended public worship. the prospect of success to the church of england mission is very great. since my arrival at the missionary station i have not heard one oath spoken by european or native; the schools and church are well attended, and the greatest order is observed among all classes. i met with many wherever i went, who were anxious after the knowledge of god. wherever i went i found some who could read and write. they are all fond of reading, and there are many who never had an opportunity of attending the schools who, nevertheless, can read. they teach one another in all parts of the country, from the north to the east cape." the native tribes were still at war with each other, and with the european settlers--the miserable effect of captain guard's rash conduct. from the missionary station at pahia mr. marsden's daughter counted one morning twenty-one canoes passing up the bay. a battle followed, which she witnessed at a distance, and the europeans all around fled to the missionary station. in the engagement three chiefs fell; a second fight occurred soon afterwards. "we have heard firing all day," she writes; "many have been killed; we saw the canoes pass down the river containing the bodies of the slain." mr. marsden himself was absent on a visit to the southward, or his presence might possibly have prevented these scenes of blood. wherever the venerable man appeared, he was received by the converted natives with christian salutations and tears of joy; the heathen population welcomed him with the firing of muskets and their rude war dances. wherever he went, he was greeted with acclamations as the friend and father of the new zealanders. one chieftain sat down upon the ground before him gazing upon him in silence, without moving a limb or uttering a single word for several hours. he was gently reproved by mr. williams for what seemed a rudeness. "let me alone," said he, "let me take a last look; i shall never see him again." "one principal chief," writes mr. marsden, "who had embraced the gospel and been baptized, accompanied us all the way. we had to travel about forty miles, by land and water. he told me he was so unhappy at hokianga that he could not get to converse with me from the crowds that attended, and that he had come to waimaté to speak with me. i found him to be a very intelligent man, and anxious to know the way to heaven." while at kaitai he held a constant levée, sitting in an arm-chair, in an open field, before the mission house; it was attended by upwards of a thousand maories, who poured in from every quarter; many coming a distance of twenty or thirty miles, contented to sit down and gaze on his venerable features; and so they continued to come and go till his departure. with his characteristic kindness and good nature he presented each with a pipe and fig of tobacco; and when he was to embark at last, they carried him to the ship, a distance of six miles. before leaving new zealand, he wrote to the church missionary society an account which glows with pious exultation, describing the success with which the head of the church had at length been pleased to bless the labours of his faithful servants. since his arrival, he says, he had visited many of the stations within the compass of a hundred miles. it was his intention to have visited all of them, from the north to the east cape; but from the disturbed state of the country "it was not considered prudent for him to go to the south," where he still contemplated further efforts "when the country should be more settled in its political affairs." he had "observed a wonderful change: those portions of the sacred scriptures which had been printed have had a most astonishing effect; they are read by the natives in every place where i have been; the natives teach one another, and find great pleasure in the word of god, and carry that sacred treasure with them wherever they go. great numbers have been baptized, both chiefs and their people." he had met with some very pious chiefs, who had refused to share in the present war, and avowed their resolution to fight no more. one of them, at his own cost, had built a chapel, or place of public worship, which was visited by the missionaries; in this he himself taught a school, assisted by his son. "waimaté, once the most warlike district in the island, is now," he says, "the most orderly and moral place i was ever in. my own mind has been exceedingly gratified by what i have seen and heard." old age, it seems, is not always querulous; its retrospects are not always in favour of the past; the aged christian walks with a more elastic step as he sees the fruit of his labour, and anticipates his own great reward. "mine eyes," he concludes, "are dim with age like isaac's; it is with some difficulty i can see to write." nor had the weakness and credulity of advancing years led him to take for granted, as in second childhood old age is wont to do, the truth of first impressions, or the accuracy of every man's reports. he still gave to every subject connected with missions the closest attention, penetrated beneath the surface, and formed his own conclusions. while in new zealand, for instance, he addresses the following queries to mr. matthews, one of the missionaries, on the subject of education:-- "april, . "... i will thank you to return me what number of native young men there are employed from your station on the sabbath in visiting the natives, i mean the numbers who occasionally visit their countrymen and instruct them. what schools there are at the station, and who are the teachers? have you an infant school, or a school for men and boys? a school for women? what do they learn? do they learn to read and write? do they understand figures? have they renounced generally their former superstitions? at what period of the day do they attend school? have they any meeting in the week-days for prayer and religious instruction? do they appear to have any views of the lord jesus christ as a saviour? any information you can give me, along with your brethren, will be very acceptable to the lovers of the gospel in new south wales." "samuel marsden." on one point only he met with no success. he had not yet quite abandoned the pleasing dream of a maori nation, united under one chief; a christian people, governed by a code of native law. tahiti naturally encouraged these bright visions, and seemed to show how easily they might be realized. there, for ten years past, under king pomare, the wondrous spectacle had been presented to the world of a whole people, under the guidance of their king, rejecting idolatry, and with it all the base usages of savage life, and working out their own national regeneration; framing a tahitian code of law on the sound principles of christian jurisprudence, and cordially adopting it. why should not a similar state of things be brought about in new zealand? the instrumental agency in both islands was the same; namely, that of christian missionaries, chiefly, if not entirely, english christians, who carried with them, it might be supposed, to both islands the same reverence for order, and with it the same love of liberty. were the maories an inferior race, compared with the aborigines of the tahitian group? on the contrary, the difference was rather in favour of the maori; he was the more athletic, and consequently the more vigorous in his mental development; indeed, upon the whole, he stands unapproached by any other tribe of man uncivilized and in a state of nature; unless we go back to the heroic ages and find his equal amongst ancient greeks at the dawning of their somewhat fabulous history. yet the project failed; and mr. marsden was now obliged mournfully to admit that new zealand's only hope lay in her annexation to the british crown. the two causes of the failure of these otherwise reasonable expectations are to be found, no doubt, first, in the circumstances of the maori tribes, and secondly, in the pernicious effects produced by european traders and settlers. tahiti was happy in possessing one sovereign. new zealand was unfortunate in its multitude of petty chieftains. when the heart of king pomare was gained, the confidence of a loyal and devoted people was at once won over. there was no rival to foment rebellion, or to seize the occasion of a religious festival, when he and his people were unarmed, to make inroads on his territory. with the assistance of his council, and under the advice of the faithful missonaries, a code of law was easily prepared, suited for all his subjects, and adapted to every part of his little kingdom. in new zealand, on the contrary, the chiefs, each of whom claimed to be perfectly independent of the rest, were constantly at enmity with each other. the violent passions of civil war never slept--hatred, revenge, and jealousy. the missionaries, if cherished by shunghie, were hated or feared by shunghie's opponent. their direct influence in the politics of the maories was therefore, of necessity, slight. but the chief hindrance arose from the mutual animosities of the chiefs, and the want of confidence in each other which universally prevailed, both among chiefs and people. and it must be confessed with sorrow, that the evil example of the europeans provoked the natives to fresh crimes, and indisposed them to all the restraints of civil government. the polynesian islands had, up to this period, known neither commerce nor colonization. except a chance visit from a man-of-war, a european ship was scarcely ever seen; or the few which came and went were connected with the missions, and were manned by decent if not religious crews. the polluting influence of a debauched and drunken body of seamen, rolling in constant succession to its shores, had not yet tainted the moral atmosphere of tahiti and its neighbouring group. and colonization had not even been attempted; the natives were left in full possession of their soil, no man making them afraid. in new zealand all this was reversed. wicked seamen infected even savages with new vices; and lawless settlers set an example of injustice, shocking even to new zealanders. for these evils it was evident there was but one remedy, the strong hand of british rule. take the following sketch from the pen of mr. marsden. after describing the happy state of the christian settlement at waimaté, he goes on to say: "on the opposite side of the harbour, a number of europeans have settled along with the natives. several keep public-houses, and encourage every kind of crime. here drunkenness, adultery, murder, etc. are committed. there are no laws, judges, nor magistrates; so that satan maintains his dominion without molestation. some civilized government must take new zealand under its protection, or the most dreadful evils will be committed by runaway convicts, sailors and publicans. there are no laws here to punish crimes. when i return to new south wales, i purpose to lay the state of new zealand before the colonial government, to see if anything can be done to remedy these public evils." "i hope in time," he says again, in a letter, dated may th, , from pahaia, to the rev. james matthews, "the chiefs will get a governor. i shall inform the europeans in authority how much they are distressed in new zealand for want of a governor with power to punish crime. the bay of islands is now in a dreadful state.... it is my intention to return to new south wales by the first opportunity." that opportunity soon appeared, and the venerable founder of its missions, the advocate of its native population, the friend of all that concerned its present or spiritual welfare, took his last leave of the shores of new zealand. preparations were made for his reception on board h. m. s. rattlesnake. the signal gun was fired, and all the friends from waimaté and keri-keri arrived to accompany their revered father to the beach, "where," says one of them who was present, "like paul at miletus, we parted with many benedictions: sorrowing most of all that we should see his face again no more. many could not bid him adieu. the parting was with many tears." his happy temperament always diffused pleasure and conciliated friendship. on board the rattlesnake he was welcomed with warm, affectionate, respect. captain hobson, who was afterwards for a time governor of new zealand, knew his worth, and felt honoured by his company; and mr. marsden fully appreciated the high character and courtesy of the commander, whose widow retains a handsome piece of plate presented to her husband by his grateful passenger, as a memorial of the happiness he enjoyed on this his last voyage homewards. the chaplain of the rattlesnake noted down an affecting conversation with the aged minister upon his voyage, which we are permitted to insert:-- "we enjoyed a most lovely evening. i had a long conversation with mr. marsden on deck. he spoke of almost all his old friends having preceded him to the eternal world; romaine, newton, the milners, scott, atkinson, robinson, buchanan, mason good, thomason, rowland hill, legh richmond, simeon, and others. he then alluded in a very touching manner to his late wife; they had passed, he observed, more than forty years of their pilgrimage through this wilderness in company, and he felt their separation the more severely as the months rolled on. i remarked that their separation would be but for a short period longer. 'god grant it,' was his reply; then lifting his eyes towards the moon, which was peacefully shedding her beams on the sails of our gallant bark, he exclaimed with intense feeling. 'prepare me, lord, for thy right hand, then come the joyful day.'" chapter xiii. mr. marsden's ministerial pursuits and journeys--love of the country and of patriarchal story--his old age--its mental features--anecdotes--love of children--bishop broughton--his reverence for mr. marsden's character--mr. marsden's views of death, etc.--his habits of prayer--his illness and death. mr. marsden had now passed the allotted span of human life, though his days were not yet "labour and sorrow." entering upon his seventy-second year with stooping gait and failing eyesight and a decaying memory, he had otherwise few of the mental infirmities of age. he was still a perfect stranger to fear, as well as to that nervous restlessness and susceptibility which wears the appearance of it, though often found, as may be daily observed, in connexion with the truest courage. after his return home from his last voyage he was attacked, when driving with his youngest daughter, upon one of his excursions in the bush, by two famous bush rangers wormley and webber, part of a gang who for a period of two years kept the whole country in a state of terror. one of the ruffians presented a loaded pistol at his breast and another at his daughter's, threatening with horrid imprecations to shoot them both, if they said a word, and bidding his daughter to empty her father's pockets into their hands. perfectly undismayed, mr. marsden remonstrated with them on their wicked course of life, telling them at last that he should soon see them again, he had no doubt, on the gallows. at parting, though charged, with the usual threats, not to look behind him, he turned round, and continued, while they were in sight, to warn them in the same strain of the certain consequences of a life of crime. his admonition was soon verified; the wretched men were apprehended for other outrages and sentenced to death, and he himself attended them from the condemned cell to the place of execution. these excursions into the country around paramatta, where he had gone about for a period of nearly forty years doing the work of an evangelist or home missionary, were continued to the last. to wind through devious paths in the bush in his one horse chaise, where his good horse _major_ seemed as if trained to penetrate, gave him the highest pleasure. the way was often trackless, and he was obliged to ask his companion whether the trace of a cartwheel could be seen. yet there was an instinctive feeling of safety in his company, and a refreshment in his conversation, which always made the vacant seat in the gig prized by those who knew and loved him. "as he drove along," says a christian lady, the wife of captain b---- who was his companion on some of his last journeys, "wherever he went there was always to be found some testimony to that goodness and mercy which had followed him all the days of his life. some ebenezer he could raise where helped perhaps in an encounter with a bushranger, having only the sword of the spirit with which to defend himself and disarm his foe, or some bethel, it might be, where like jacob he had been enabled to wrestle and prevail. with such a companion no one could be a loser. on these excursions, no matter to what distance, he seemed to think preparations needless, he would travel miles and miles without any previous consideration for his own comfort or convenience. even a carpet-bag was an encumbrance. he had been too long accustomed to make his toilet with the new zealander, and take with him his meal of fern-root, to be particular, or to take thought, what he should eat, or wherewithal should he be clothed." his love of the country and of rural scenes gave a strong colouring, and great originality to his preaching as well as to his own religious character. he called his estate "the plains of mamre." this property we may remind the reader had been presented to mr. marsden in the early days of the colony, when land uncleared was absolutely worthless, to eke out his insufficient stipend. it had now become valuable, and he was exposed both in the colony and in england to many unjust remarks, even from those who should have known him better, on the score of his reputed wealth. his own justification of himself is more than sufficient. being told that he was charged with avarice, "why," said he, "they might as well find fault with abraham whose flocks and herds multiplied. abraham never took any trouble about it, nor do i. i can't help their increasing;" and he added, a remark so true and of such pregnant import that it ought for ever to have put to silence this miserable carping; "it was not for myself, but for the benefit of this colony and new zealand, that i ever tried to promote agriculture or the improvement in sheep or cattle." had he done nothing else for australia, his introduction of merino sheep with a view to the growth of wool would have marked him down upon the roll of her greatest benefactors. through life his choicest topics in the pulpit had been the patriarchs, their lives and characters but as he grew old, he seemed unconsciously to rank amongst their number; to fall into and become one of their own body; himself a christian patriarch. it was the frequent remark of his friends that he spoke of abraham, isaac and jacob, just as if he had lived in their times, heard their conversations, and been well acquainted with them. it is much to be regretted that more full and accurate reports of his sermons and conversations should not have been kept. the truth and originality of his remarks would have made them invaluable. when seated in his chair upon the lawn before his house, surrounded by his family and friends, his conversations took the prevailing turn of his mind, and he used to dwell on the incidents of patriarchal life with a depth of feeling and a power of picturesque description of which one would be glad that the memorials should not have been allowed to perish. at an examination of the king's school at sydney, the headmaster having requested him to ask the boys some questions upon scripture history, forgetting the business in hand, he broke out into a long and interesting address on patriarchal life and manners. the end contemplated by the headmaster was of course frustrated, "but we dare say," says the colonial journalist who tells the story, "there are many young persons now growing up into manhood, who, to this day remember the pious and excellent observations of the venerable man." his old age exhibited some traits not always to be found, even in good men, after a long life passed among scenes of danger or amidst the hardening warfare of personal animosities. though to the last bold in reproving sin his real character was that of gentleness and the warmest social affection. none but the bad were ever afraid of him; on the contrary, his presence diffused a genial light and warmth in every company. cruel savages and little children loved him alike; the wisest men gathered instruction from his lips, while they found pleasure in his simple courtesy and manly open heartedness. he brought home with him in the rattlesnake from new zealand, several maori youths; "they seemed to love and respect their _matua_, as they called him, more than any one, or anything, besides. they used to run after his gig like joyous children, and to attempt to catch his eye as if to bask in the sunshine of his benevolent countenance." "they delighted;" says mrs. b----, to whose manuscript of mr. marsden's last years of life we are again indebted, "to come to our barrack apartments with him, always making their way to the bookcase first, take out a book and point upwards, as if everybody who had anything to do with 'matua' must have all their books leading to heaven. pictures pleased them next; when they would direct each others' attention to what they considered worthy of notice, with extraordinary intelligence; but when the boiled rice and sweets made their appearance, digging their elbows into each others' sides, with gesticulations of all sorts, and knowing looks, putting their fingers to their mouths, and laughing with greedy joy, mr. marsden all the time watching their movements, and expressive faces, as a kind nurse would the gambols and frolics of her playful charge, saying with restrained, but grateful emotion, 'yes, sir, nothing like bringing the gospel at once to the heathen. if "music charms the savage breast," sir, why should not the sweetest sounds that ever met man's ear do more? why, sir, the gospel turns a worse than savage into a man, ay, and into a woman too.' he then related to us the anecdote of a new zealand woman who, for the last remaining years of her life preached the gospel among her own sex, having acknowledged to him, that before he had brought the word of god to new zealand, and the spirit applied it to her heart, she had killed and eaten nineteen children." his last communication to the church missionary society, dated december th, , and received after his death, is full of hope for his beloved new zealanders. "i am happy to say the mission goes on well amidst every difficulty. i visited many places in my last voyage from the north cape to cloudy bay. the gospel has made a deep impression upon many of the natives, who now lead godly lives." the letter, which is written in a large and straggling hand, as though the pen were no longer under its usual firm control, concludes with these touching words: "i am now very feeble. my eyes are dim, and my memory fails me. i have done no duty on the sabbath for some weeks through weakness. when i review all the way the lord has led me through this wilderness i am constrained to say, _bless the lord, o my soul, etc_, "yours very affectionately, "samuel marsden." the innocent games of children pleased him to the last. when such meetings were more rare than they have now become, the children of the paramatta school once a year assembled on his lawn, and then his happiness was almost equal to their own. in his own family, and amongst the children of his friends, he would even take his share in their youthful gambols, and join the merry party at blind man's buff. though, as he said of himself, he "never sang a song in his life, for he learned to sing hymns when ten years old, and never sang anything else," yet he was charmed with the sweet and hearty voices of children joining in some innocent little song, and it pleased him better still if it finished off with a noisy chorus. yet all this was consistent with his character as a grave, wise old man. though mirthful, he was never frivolous; in a moment, if occasion called for it, he was ready to discuss the most serious subjects, or to give his opinion upon matters of importance; and he had the enviable talent of mingling even pious conversation with the sports of children. it was observed that though always unembarrassed in the presence of strangers whatever their rank or importance might be, he never seemed completely happy but in the company of persons of true piety. he does not appear to have spoken very freely in ordinary society on the subject of personal religion, still less on the subject of his own experience; but his emotions were deep, and out of the fulness of the heart his lips would speak, in the midst of such a circle, of the loving-kindness of the lord. the sense of his own unworthiness seems to have been always present. of all god's servants he might have been, as he verily thought himself to be, the most unprofitable; and when any circumstance occurred which led him to contrast the justice of god to others who were left to die impenitent, with the mercy shown to himself, he spoke with a humiliation deeply affecting. with scenes of vice and human depravity few living men were more conversant than he, yet to the last such was the delicacy of his conscience that the presence of vice shocked him as much as if the sight were new. "riding down to the barracks one morning," says the lady whose narrative we have already quoted, "to invite captain b---- and myself that day to dinner to meet the bishop, he had passed what, alas! used to be too frequent an object, a man lying insensible and intoxicated in the road. his usually cheerful countenance was saddened, and after telling us his errand, we could not but ask the cause of his distress. he gave us the unhappy cause, and turning his horse's head round to leave us, he uttered with deep emotion-- 'why was i made to hear thy voice and enter while there's room?' throughout the day the subject dwelt upon his mind; after dinner the conversation turned to it, and he was casually asked who was the author of the hymn he had quoted in the morning. he shook his head and said, 'i cannot tell, perhaps it was watts, or wesley,' and several hymn books were produced in which the bishop and others instituted a fruitless search, the bishop at length saying, 'i can't find the hymn, mr. marsden.' 'can't you, sir,' was the reply, 'that is a pity, for it is a good hymn, sir--says what the bible says, free sovereign grace for poor sinners. no self-righteous man can get into heaven, sir, he would rather starve than take the free gift.' in the course of the day the conversation turning upon new zealand, the bishop expressed the opinion, once almost universal though now happily exploded, an opinion, too, which mr. marsden himself had regarded with some favour in his younger days, that civilization must precede the introduction of the gospel; and his lordship argued, as mr. marsden himself had argued thirty years before, in favour of expanding the mind of savages by the introduction of arts and sciences, being impressed with the idea that it was impossible to present the gospel with success to minds wholly unenlightened. mr. marsden's answer is thus recorded--'civilization is not necessary before christianity, sir; do both together if you will, but you will find civilization follow christianity, easier than christianity to follow civilization. tell a poor heathen of his true god and saviour, point him to the works he can see with his own eyes, for these heathen are no fools, sir--great mistake to send illiterate men to them--they don't want men learned after the fashion of this world, but men taught in the spirit and letter of the scripture. i shan't live to see it, sir, but i may hear of it in heaven, that new zealand with all its cannibalism and idolatry will yet set an example of christianity to some of the nations now before her in civilization.'" it will not be out of place to offer a passing remark upon mr. marsden's conduct to dr. broughton, the first bishop of sydney. as an episcopalian, sincerely attached to the church of england, he had long desired the introduction of the episcopate into the colonial church, of which, as senior chaplain, he himself had been the acknowledged leader for so many years. when the appointment was made it was a matter of just surprise to his friends that he was passed over in silence, while an english clergyman was placed over him to govern the clergy, amongst whom he had so long presided, and whose entire respect and confidence he had gained. there is no doubt that his integrity and fearless honesty had rendered him somewhat unacceptable to men in power, and that to this his exclusion is, in a great measure, to be ascribed. but this slight brought out some of the finest features in his truly noble character. he had never sought either honours, wealth, or preferment for himself. if a disinterested man ever lived it was samuel marsden. the only remark which his family remember to have heard him make upon the subject was in answer to a friend, who had expressed surprise at the slight thus put upon him, in these words--"it is better as it is; i am an old man; my work is almost done." and when dr. broughton, the new bishop, arrived in the colony, he was received by mr. marsden not with cold and formal respect but with christian cordiality. when the new bishop was installed he assisted at the solemn service; the eloquent author of the "prisoners of australia,"[k] who chanced to be present, thus describes the scene--"on a more touching sight mine eyes had never looked than when the aged man, tears streaming down his venerable cheek, poured forth, amidst a crowded and yet silent assemblage, the benediction upon him into whose hands he had thus, as it were, to use his own metaphor, 'yielded up the keys of a most precious charge;' a charge which had been his own devoted care throughout the storms and the tempests of a long and difficult pilotage. and now like another simeon, his work well nigh accomplished, the gospel spreading far and wide over the colony and its dependencies, and the prayer of his adopted people answered, he could say without another wish, 'lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation.'" though differing from him, we may add, on some points, mr. marsden retained to the last sincere regard for bishop broughton, who in return fully appreciated the high and lofty character of his senior chaplain. "well!" said he one day when he heard of his last illness, breaking out after a thoughtful silence, "if there ever was a truly honest man, mr. marsden certainly is one;" and after his death he publicly expressed his "deep sense of the loss he had experienced, and the painful void he felt in the absence of his aged and faithful companion who had so often stood by his side, whose genuine piety and natural force of understanding," said he, "i held in the highest esteem while he lived, and still retain them in sincerely affectionate remembrance." [k] london: hatchard, . conscious that in the course of nature his decease could not be far distant, death was now his frequent meditation. he viewed its approach without levity and without alarm. familiar through life with death in every form, his feelings were not blunted; he still felt it was a solemn thing to die, but he had experienced the love of him who had tasted death for every man, and was no longer "subject to bondage through fear of death." he continued his pastoral visits to the sick and dying to the last, and some of those who were raised from a bed of languishing, and who survived their pastor, speak of the affectionate kindness, the delicacy and tenderness, as well as the deep-toned spirituality of mind he showed in the sick chamber, as something which those who had not witnessed it would be backward to credit. one of the last letters which he penned filled three sides of folio paper, addressed to a friend who had met with a severe accident in being thrown from a carriage; it contained the most consoling and scriptural aids and admonitions; it was unfortunately lost by its possessor on a voyage to india, or it would have proved, we are assured, an acquisition to our memoir, of real interest and importance. as he stepped out of his gig, his family easily perceived from his manner if he had been visiting the chamber of death, and never presumed to break a sacred silence that was sure to follow his deep-drawn sigh till he was pleased to do so himself. this he did in general by the solemn and subdued utterance of a text from scripture, or some verse of a favourite hymn. the tears often fell down his aged cheeks while slowly articulating, in a suppressed voice, "blessed are the dead which die in the lord;" or from one of watts's hymns. "oh could we die with those that die," etc. after this touching relief he seemed to feel more at liberty to speak on future events connected with his own decease, when he should be sitting down, as he frequently said, with abraham, isaac, and jacob, in the kingdom of god. indeed his happy, social spirit led him to connect the joys of heaven with the society of saints and patriarchs and his own departed friends. sitting at dinner with the bishop and others as his guests, his mind abstracted itself from the surrounding scene, and he addressed the christian friend to whose notices of his last days we have already had recourse: "you know, madam, you and i are to take an alphabetical list some day of all the names of the good men i expect soon to meet in heaven; there will be (counting them up upon his fingers) john wesley, isaac watts, the two milners, joseph and isaac, john newton and thomas scott, mr. howels of long acre, and matthew henry----" here the conversation of the party broke off the solemn reverie. yet all this tranquillity was consistent with that natural fear of death which for the wisest purposes god has implanted in man, and which adam must have known in paradise, or else the divine prohibition and the threatened penalty, "in the day that thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die," could have had no force and appealed to no motive. "in the month of september, after his last voyage, he called at the house of his friend, the rev. mr. cartwright, with a young lady from new zealand, to introduce her to mrs. cartwright. the door was opened by his aged and now deeply afflicted friend and brother in the ministry, for mrs. cartwright had expired in the night, after a few hours' illness. mr. marsden, with his usual cheerfulness of manner, said, 'well! i have brought miss w. to introduce her to mrs. cartwright.' 'stop! stop, my friend,' responded the mourner, in a solemn manner, 'don't you know that mrs. cartwright is dead?' 'dead? dead?' replied mr. marsden. 'oh no; oh no. you must be in joke; it is too serious a matter to make a joke of, mr. cartwright.' 'indeed,' responded mr. cartwright, 'it is too true. come, and i will convince you,' and then led him to the room where the remains of his departed wife lay. mr. marsden approached the body, saying, 'oh! she is not dead; no, no, she is not dead;' (the bright complexion remaining unchanged), 'she is not dead;' and then, passing his hand over the face, the cold chill of death dissipated the delusion. 'yes, she is dead, she is dead,' and leaving the room, he hurried away to give vent to his feelings." as he contemplated his own near approach to the eternal state, a few chosen passages of scripture fell often from his lips; and it was remarked they were almost the only repetitions he made use of; for his mind was richly stored with scripture, which he seemed to bring forth with endless variety, and often in the happiest combination; but now he often repeated the words of job, "he cometh forth like a flower, and is cut down; he fleeth also as a shadow, and continueth not," chap. xiv. . and those of zechariah, "your fathers, where are they? and the prophets, do they live for ever?" chap. i. . like cornelius, he had been a devout man, a man of prayer through life. he believed in the promises of effectual aid from god the holy spirit, to carry on the work of grace in his own soul. nerved with this faith, he waged a ceaseless war against corruptions within, and temptations from without. and while he viewed the promises of assistance from the holy spirit, as given not to supersede our own exertions, but to animate them, he simply trusted to him to become the author of his complete sanctification. and all the blessed fruits of faith were found richly clustering round his character. it was his constant habit, after his return from a journey, to spend some time in his room alone, engaged, no doubt, in holy communing with god. when he prayed in the family, or before his sermon in the pulpit, where he seldom used a form, the rich and fervid unction, the variety and copiousness of his supplications and thanksgivings, seemed to intimate how closely he had been wont to commune in secret with his heavenly father. the fifty-first psalm now often supplied the words for many a humble confession of sin, and many an earnest aspiration for larger supplies of the holy spirit's sanctifying influences, both in the pulpit and elsewhere. he appears always to have held frequent communion with god in ejaculatory prayer throughout the day. to one whose engagements were so many, and whose interruptions were necessarily so frequent, the practice was no doubt most beneficial. thus the lamp of god in his soul was always trimmed, and the light went not out as age and infirmities drew on. his friends now remarked his frequent abstraction from the scenes around, while his moving lip and solemn gesture significantly intimated the direction of his mind, and the occupation of his thoughts. his mind became daily more spiritual, and even when in the midst of visitors he seemed often to be absorbed in silent prayer. "an incident which seems to show that he had a presentiment of his approaching end occurred on the last sunday on which the holy communion was administered before his death. although in his usual health, he did not assist in the service, as he always had done for a long period of forty-five years in the same congregation; and when the officiating minister was ready to distribute the bread and wine, he remained in his pew, apparently overcome by his feelings. a pause ensued, when, as he still did not attempt to move, the rev. henry bobart, his son-in-law, thought it advisable to take the elements to him. many of his congregation were affected to tears, impressed with the belief that they might not again receive from his venerable hands those emblems of the saviour's love. he had never yet been present at the church without assisting at the solemn rite. such fears were but too truly and sadly realized. on the sunday evening, at the parsonage, it was the custom, at family worship, to read one of a course of sermons. the sunday before his death, when he was still apparently as well as usual, he requested that the one in course for that evening might be laid aside and bradley's sermon the 'morrow unknown,' from the text 'boast not thyself of to-morrow,' substituted. some slight objection was made; but on his again expressing his wish, it was of course complied with. the remarks made by him upon the subject during the evening excited the apprehensions of his family that the coming week might be one of trial, but they little thought that ere the next sabbath one so loved and revered would be removed from them." on tuesday the th of may, , a few of his friends visited him at his own house; he wore his usual cheerfulness, and they wished him, as they thought, a short farewell as he stepped into his gig on a journey of about five and-twenty-miles. in passing through the low lands contiguous to windsor, the cold suddenly affected him, and he complained of illness on his arrival at the house of his friend, the rev. mr. styles, the chaplain of the parish. erysipelas in the head broke out, and a general stupor followed, so that he became insensible. his mind wandered amongst the scenes to which his life had been devoted, and he uttered a few incoherent expressions about the factory, the orphan school, and the new zealand mission. "though he spoke but little," says his friend, mr. styles, in his funeral sermon, "yet in his few conscious moments he said quite enough to show that the saviour whom he served through life was with him in the time of trial. a single remark was made to him by a bystander on the value of a good hope in christ in the hour of need. 'yes,' said he, 'that hope is indeed precious to me now;' and on the following evening, his last on earth, he was heard repeating the words 'precious, precious,' as if still in the same strain of thought which that remark had suggested. soon after, inflammation having reached the brain, his spirit was released. on saturday morning, the th of may, he entered--who can doubt?--upon the enjoyment of his 'eternal and exceeding great reward.'" * * * * * he was buried in his own churchyard at paramatta. upwards of sixty carriages formed the mourning train, and a numerous assemblage of mourners, including most of the public functionaries in the colony, followed him to the grave. of these, some who had in years long past thwarted and opposed him came at last to offer an unfeigned tribute of deep respect. a few had been his early associates in the ministry, and in every good word and work. the majority were a youthful generation, to whom he was only known as a wise and venerable minister of god. his parishioners had been most of them brought up under his instructions, and had been taught from their infancy to look up to him with respect and love. the solemn burial service was read by the rev. dr. cowper, who first came out to the colony at mr. marsden's solicitation. he stood over the grave and addressed the mourners on the early devotedness of their departed friend and pastor to the great work of the ministry, told them how solemnly he had dedicated himself to god before he left england in his youth, and reminded them of the fidelity with which through evil and good report he had endured his master's cross, despising the shame. australia seemed at length fully to appreciate his worth. it was quite fitting, and indeed an additional tribute to his integrity, that some mutterings of calumny should be uttered by ungodly men, even as the grave closed over him, and that a priest of the apostate church of rome should catch them up, and gladly give expression to them. with this exception the colony was unanimous, as were the friends of religion in england, and throughout the world, in mourning for him as for one who had been great as an evangelist in the church of christ, and as a philanthropist second to none who have ever devoted their lives to the welfare of their fellow creatures. it was proposed to erect a monument to his memory by public subscription; the proposition was warmly approved on all sides, and subscriptions were offered to a considerable amount. whole families became subscribers--parents, and children, and domestic servants, all ready thus to testify their reverence. on further consideration, it was thought better to erect a church to his memory on a piece of his own land, which he himself had devised for that purpose, to which the name of marsfield should be given; and the design, we believe, has been carried into effect, at the cost of about six thousand pounds. the public press, not only in australia but in england, published biographical sketches of his life and labours, with articles on his motives and character. the great missionary societies recorded his death with becoming feelings of reverential love. the notice of him in the minutes of the church missionary society, the reader will not be displeased to find in these pages. it was read at their annual meeting at exeter-hall, and published in their thirtieth report. "the committee of the church missionary society record the death of the late rev. samuel marsden with feelings of deep respect for his personal character and gratitude to the great head of the church, who raised up, and who so long preserved, this distinguished man, for the good of his own, and of future generations. "in him the committee recognise an individual whom providence had endowed with a vigorous constitution, both of body and mind, suited to meet the circumstances which ever attend a course of new and arduous labours. entering upon the duties of his chaplaincy forty-five years ago, at a time when the colonists of new south wales were, for the most part, of abandoned character and suffering the penalty of the law, he, with admirable foresight, anticipated the probable future destinies of that singular and important colony, and never ceased to call the attention of both the local and home governments to the great duty of providing for the interests, both temporal and spiritual, of the rapidly increasing population by a proportionate increase in the number of colonial chaplains. "in the discharge of his diversified duties, the native energies of his mind were conspicuously exhibited in the undisturbed ardour, public spirit, and steady perseverance, with which his various plans of usefulness were prosecuted; while his high natural gifts were sanctified by those christian principles, which from his youth up, he maintained and adorned, both by his teaching and by his life. "but it is to his exertions in behalf of christian missions that the committee are bound especially to call the attention of the society. while he omitted no duty of his proper ministerial calling, his comprehensive mind quickly embraced the vast spiritual interests, till then well nigh entirely unheeded, of the innumerable islands of the pacific ocean, whose 'inhabitants were sitting in darkness, and in the shadow of death.' "under the influence of these considerations, mr. marsden zealously promoted the labours of the different societies which have established missions in the south seas. and it is to his visits to new zealand, begun twenty-five years ago, and often since repeated, and to his earnest appeals on behalf of that people, that the commencement and consolidation of the society's missions in the northern island are to be attributed. "in calling to mind the long series of eminent services rendered to the society by mr. marsden, the committee notice with peculiar satisfaction the last visit made by him, in the year , to the society's missions in new zealand--a visit justly termed by the lord bishop of australia 'apostolical.' with paternal authority and affection, and with the solemnity of one who felt himself to be standing on the verge of eternity, he then gave his parting benediction to the missionaries and the native converts." and thus was the man honoured in his death, whose life had been one long conflict with obloquy and slander. with few exceptions his enemies had died away, or been gradually led to abandon their prejudices, and many of them now loved and revered the man whom they had once hated or despised. this, however, is but the usual recompense of a life of consistent holiness. god often allows his servants to live and even to die under a cloud of prejudice; but sooner or later, even the world does homage to their virtues and confesses its admiration of the christian character, while the church of christ glorifies god in the grace which made their departed brother to shine as a light in the world. chapter xiv. character of mr. marsden--his life and labours. the reader may naturally expect in conclusion a summary of mr. marsden's character. in attempting this, we are by no means insensible to the difficulty of the undertaking. indiscriminate eulogy, and the arrogance which affects to blame in order to establish its own claim to superior wisdom, are both alike impertinent and unbecoming. yet it is not easy to speak of one whose motives were so high, whose labours so constant and self-denying, and whose triumphs so remarkable, without enthusiasm. while, on the other hand, those infirmities which may generally be detected even in the best men, and which truth requires to be impartially noted down, did not much affect his public life; and we have felt all along as we have written with the disadvantage of having known him only by the report of others. still, however, something should be attempted. the character of mr. marsden is too instructive to be lost; perhaps few great men ever lived whose example was more calculated for general usefulness,--for the simple reason that he displayed no gigantic powers, no splendid genius; he had only a solid, well ordered, mind, with which to work,--no other endowments than those which thousands of his fellow men possess. it was in the _use of his materials_ that his greatness lay. mr. marsden was a man of a masculine understanding, of great decision of character, and an energy which nothing could subdue. he naturally possessed such directness and honesty of purpose, that his intentions could never be mistaken; and he seemed incapable of attempting to gain his purpose by those dexterous shifts and manoeuvres which often pass current, even amongst professing christians, as the proper, if not laudable, resources of a good diplomatist, or a thorough man of business. when he had an object in view, it was always worthy of his strenuous pursuit, and nothing stopped him in his efforts to obtain it, except the impossibility of proceeding further. had his mind been less capacious such firmness would often have degenerated into mere obstinacy; had it been less benevolent and less under the influence of religion, it would have led him, as he pressed rudely onwards, to trample upon the feelings, perhaps upon the rights, of other men. but he seems, whenever he was not boldly confronting vice, to have been of the gentlest nature. in opposing sin, especially when it showed itself with effrontery in the persons of magistrates and men in power, he gave no quarter and asked for none. there was a quaintness and originality about him, which enabled him to say and do things which were impossible to other men. there was a firmness and inflexibility, combined with earnest zeal, which in the days of the reformers would have placed him in their foremost rank. none could be long in his society without observing that he was a man of another mould than those around him. there was an air of unconscious independence in all he did which, mixed with his other qualities, clearly showed to those who could read his character, that he was a peculiar instrument in the hands of god to carry out his own purposes. these traits are illustrated by many remarkable events in his life. when he first arrived in new south wales, while theft, blasphemy, and every other crime, prevailed to an alarming extent among the convicts, the higher classes of society, the civil and military officers, set a disgraceful example of social immorality. such is the account given by a sydney periodical a few weeks after mr. marsden's decease, which goes on to say: "many an individual of a more plastic nature might have been moulded by the prevailing fashion of the age in which he lived, and instead of endeavouring to struggle against the tide of popular opinion, would have yielded in all probability to its seducing influence. such was not the case with mr. marsden. when he was opposed on all hands, and even by the civil and military authorities of the day, he faithfully performed his duty, and careless of the powerful coalitions combined for his destruction, 'all the ends he aimed at were his country's, his god's, and truth's.' educated in the school of the milners, the simeons, and the fletchers, he was not disposed to flatter the vices of any man; but with plainness and sincerity of speech, he discoursed 'of righteousness, temperance and judgment to come.'" he has been known to rebuke sin at a dinner-table in such a manner as to electrify the whole company. once, arriving late, he sat down in haste, and did not for a few minutes perceive the presence of one who should have been the wife of the host, but who stood in a very different relation to him. mr. marsden always turned a deaf ear to scandal, and in the excess of his charity was sometimes blind to facts which were evident enough to others. the truth now flashed upon him, and though such things were little thought of in the colony, he rose instantly from the table, calling to the servant in a decided tone to bring his hat, and without further ceremony, or another word, retired. that such a man should raise up a host of bitter enemies is not to be wondered at. to these qualities his great successes in life, under god, were due. the young chaplain who single handed confronted and at length bore down the profligacy of new south wales, and the shameless partiality of its courts of justice (the immediate result and consequence of the licentious lives and connexions of the magistrates) planned, and was himself the first to adventure upon the mission to new zealand. against the rashness of this attempt the timid expostulations of his friends, the hesitation of the captains who declined so perilous an adventure, and even the remonstrances of governor macquarie himself weighed not a feather in the scale. he saw his way clearly; it was the path of duty, and along it he must go. and when, ten years afterwards, scarcely a nominal convert had been won from among the cannibals, when tens of thousands of good money had been spent, when the church at home was almost weary of the project, and half disposed to give it up, he was still true as ever to the cause. he neither bolstered up his courage with noisy protestations, nor attempted to cheer the languid zeal of others by the slightest exaggerations, but quietly went forward calmly resting upon the two great pillars, the _commands_ and the _promises_ of god. so again with respect to the polynesian missions; at first he showed little of that enthusiasm in which some of its promoters were caught as in a whirlwind, and carried off their feet. but high principle endures when enthusiasm has long worn out. and it was to the firm and yet cheering remonstrances of samuel marsden, and to the weight which his representations had with the churches of christ in england, that the directors were indebted for the ability to maintain their ground, and that this perhaps the most successful of protestant missions, was not finally abandoned upon the very eve of its triumphs. while he embraced large and comprehensive projects, it was one of his striking peculiarities that he paid close attention to minute details. some minds beginning with the vast and theoretical, work backwards into the necessary details; others setting out upon that which is minute and practical, from the necessities of the hour and the duties of the day before them seem to enlarge their circle and to build up new projects as they proceed. the former may be men of greater genius, but the latter are in general the more successful, and to these mr. marsden belonged. the cast of his mind was eminently practical. no crude visions of distant triumphs led him away from the duties which belonged to the scene and circumstances in which providence had placed him. paramatta was for many years the model parish of new south wales, although its pastor was the soul of the new zealand mission, and of many a philanthropic enterprise besides. commissioner biggs, in his "report of inquiry," which was published by order of the house of commons, observes that "mr. marsden, though much occupied by the business of the missions which he conducted, and by the superintendence of the orphan school which he had himself called into existence, was remarkably attentive to the duties of his ministry." "the congregation at paramatta appeared to me to be more respectable than at the other places of worship, and the choral parts of the service were admirably performed by the singers, who have been taught under the direction of the rev. s. marsden." he was well known to all his parishioners, to whom he paid constant ministerial visits; his attention to the sick, whether at their own homes or the government hospital, was unremitting, and here his natural shrewdness, sharpened as it was by his spiritual penetration, showed itself in his insight into the true character of those he dealt with. nothing disgusted him more than a want of reality. high professions from inconsistent lips were loathsome to him, and his rebukes were sometimes sharp. a gentleman, whose habits of life were not altogether consistent with christian simplicity and deadness to the world, had been reading "mammon," when that volume had just made its appearance, and with that partial eye with which we are too apt to view our own failings, had come to the flattering conclusion that by contrast with the monster depicted in "mammon," the desires he felt to add field to field and house to house, were not covetousness, but that diligence in business which the scriptures inculcate. in the happy excitement of the discovery, he exultingly exclaimed, "well, thank god, i have no covetousness." mr. marsden, who had read no more about covetousness than he found in the bible, had sat silent; rising from his chair, and taking his hat, he merely said, "well, i think it is time for me to go: and so, sir, you thank god that you are not as other men are. you have no covetousness? havn't you? why, sir, i suppose the next thing you'll tell us is that you've no pride;" and left the room. but when he spoke to a modest inquirer, these roughnesses, which lay only on the surface, disappeared. to the sick, his manner was gentle and affectionate, and in his later years, when he began, from failing memory and dimness of sight, to feel himself unequal to the pulpit, he spent much of his time in going from house to house and amongst the prison population, exhorting and expounding the scriptures. upon one of these occasions, a friend who accompanied him relates that he made a short journey to visit a dying young lady, whose parents on some account were strangely averse to his intrusion, pastoral though it was. but the kindness with which he addressed the sufferer, whom he found under deep spiritual anxieties, and the soothing manner in which he spoke and prayed with her, instantly changed the whole bias of their minds. "to think," they exclaimed when he left the house, "of the aged man, with his silver locks, coming such a distance as seventeen miles, and speaking so affectionately to our feeble child!" "at paramatta, his sunday-school," his daughter writes, "was in a more efficient state than any i have since seen;" and the same remark might probably be applied to his other parochial institutions, for whatever he did was done with all his heart; and he was one of those who easily find coadjutors. their example seems to shed an immediate influence. and his curates and the pious members of his flock were scarcely less zealous and energetic than himself. he found time to promote missionary meetings, and to encourage the formation of tract and bible societies, as well as other benevolent institutions, at sydney and other places. on many occasions he delivered interesting speeches, and not long before his death he presided at a bible society meeting at paramatta, when, in the course of an affectionate address, he alluded to his beloved new zealand. new zealand was near his heart, and he now seldom spoke of it without being sensibly affected. relating an anecdote respecting mowhee, a converted new zealander, he was completely overcome, and burst into tears. his manner of preaching was simple, forcible, and persuasive, rather than powerful or eloquent. in his later years, when he was no longer able to read his sermons, he preached extempore. his memory, until the last year or two of his life, was remarkably tenacious: he used to repeat the whole of the burial service _memoriter_, and in the pulpit, whole chapters or a great variety of texts from all parts of scripture, as they were required to prove or illustrate his subject. he was seldom controversial, nor did he attempt a critical exposition of the word of god. his ministry was pure and evangelical. "you can well remember him, my hearers," says the preacher, in his funeral sermon, "as having faithfully preached to you the word of god; clearly did he lay before you the whole counsel of god. man was represented by him as in a condemned and helpless state, lying in all the pollution and filthiness of his sin, totally unable to justify himself wholly or in part, by any works of righteousness which he can do; god, as too pure to look upon iniquity without abhorrence, and yet too merciful to leave sinners to their sad estate without providing a refuge for them; christ, as all in all to the sinner; as wisdom to enlighten him, as righteousness to justify him, sanctification to make him holy in heart and life, as complete redemption from the bondage of sin and death into the glorious inheritance of heaven; the holy spirit of god as the only author of aught that is good in the renewed soul; faith as the only means of applying the salvation of the gospel to the case of the individual sinner; justification by faith; the necessity of regeneration; holiness indispensable. all these were represented by your departed minister as the vital doctrines of the gospel, and the mutual bearing and connexion of each was clearly shown. and this he has been doing for nearly forty-five years." dwelling on the outskirts of civilization and of the christian world, he was too deeply impressed with the grand line of distinction between christianity and hideous ungodliness, whether exhibited in the vices of a penal settlement or the cannibalism of new zealand, to be likely to attach too much importance to those minor shades of difference which are to be met with in the great family of jesus christ. as his heart was large, so too was his spirit catholic. he was sincerely and affectionately attached to the church of england. he revered her liturgy, and in her articles and homilies he found his creed, and he laboured much to promote her extension. yet his heart was filled with love to all those who name the name of christ in sincerity. wherever he met with the evidences of real piety and soundness of doctrine, his house and his purse flew open; and orthodox christians of every denomination from time to time either shared his hospitalities or were assisted in their benevolent projects with pecuniary aid. with what delicacy this was done may be gathered from such statements as the following, which is copied from the "colonist" newspaper, september th, : "an attempt having been made to build a scotch church in sydney, the colonial government for a time opposed the scheme, and in consequence some of its friends fell away. then it was that the late samuel marsden, unsolicited, very generously offered the loan of _l._ to the trustees of the scotch church, on the security of the building and for its completion. this loan was accordingly made; but as it was found impracticable to give an available security on the building, mr. marsden agreed to take the personal guarantee of the minister for the debt." in the same spirit he presented the wesleyan methodists with a valuable piece of land on which to erect a chapel, at windsor. this act of christian charity was acknowledged by their missionaries in a grateful letter. mr. marsden's reply is full of warmth and feeling. "you express your acknowledgment for the ground at windsor to build your chapel and house upon. i can only say i feel much pleasure in having it in my power to meet your wishes in this respect. to give you the right hand of fellowship is no more than my indispensable duty; and were i to throw the smallest difficulty in your way i should be highly criminal and unworthy the christian name, more especially considering the present circumstances of these extensive settlements, 'where the harvest is so great and the labourers are so few.' ... the importation of convicts from europe is very great every year; hundreds have just landed on our shores from various parts of the british empire, hundreds are now in the harbour ready to be disembarked, and hundreds more on the bosom of the great deep are hourly expected. these exiles come to us laden with the chains of their sins, and reduced to the lowest state of human wretchedness and depravity. we must not expect that magistrates and politicians can find a remedy for the dreadful moral diseases with which the convicts are infected. the plague of sin, when it has been permitted to operate on the human mind with all its violence and poison, can never be cured, and seldom restrained by the wisest human laws and regulations. heaven itself has provided the only remedy for sin--the blessed balm in gilead; to apply any other remedy is lost labour. in recommending this at all times and in all places, we shall prevail upon some to try its effect; and whoever do this we know they will be healed in the selfsame hour. i pray that the divine blessing may attend all your labours for the good of immortal souls in these settlements." his private charities displayed the same catholic spirit. his disinterestedness was great, and his only desire seemed to be to assist the deserving or to retrieve the lost. he was not foolishly indifferent to the value of money, as those who had business transactions with him were well aware; but its chief value in his eyes consisted in the opportunities it gave him to promote the happiness of others. hundreds of instances of his extraordinary liberality might be mentioned, and it is probable that many more are quite unknown. the following anecdotes, furnished by his personal friends, will show that his bounty was dealt out with no sparing hand. a gentleman, at whose house he was a visitor, happened to express a wish that he had three hundred pounds to pay off a debt. the next morning mr. marsden came down and presented him with the money, taking no acknowledgment. the circumstance would have remained unknown had not the obliged person, after mr. marsden's decease, honourably sent an acknowledgment to his executors. all he assisted were not equally grateful. travelling with a friend in his carriage, a vehicle passed by. "paddy," said he, calling to his servant, "who is that?" on being told, "oh," said he, "he borrowed from me two hundred pounds, and he never paid me." this was his only remark. yet he was not tenacious for repayment, nor indeed exact in requiring it at all where he thought the persons needy and deserving. the same friend was with him when a man called to pay up the interest on a considerable sum which mr. marsden had lent to him. he took a cheque for the amount, but when the person retired, tore it up and threw it into the fire, remarking, "he is an honest man. i am satisfied if he returns me the principal; that is all i want." on another occasion, a friend who had been requested to make an advance of fifty pounds to a needy person, but was unable to do so, mentioned the case to mr. marsden, with, "sir, can you lend me fifty pounds?" "to be sure i can," was the answer, and the money was instantly produced. when he called, shortly afterwards, to repay the loan, mr. marsden had forgotten all about it. "indeed i never looked to its being repaid." the rev----, being pressed for a hundred pounds, walking with mr. marsden, mentioned his difficulties. mr. marsden at once gave him a hundred pounds, simply remarking, "i dare say that will do for you." a lady had come to the colony at the solicitation of her family, with the view of establishing a school of a superior class for the daughters of the colonists. at first she met with little success. mr. marsden saw the importance of her scheme, and at once invited her to paramatta, offering her a suitable house and all the pecuniary aid she might require, and this under the feeling of a recent disappointment in an undertaking of the same nature. of the large sums he expended on the new zealand mission from his own private resources it is impossible even to conjecture the amount, to say nothing of a life in a great measure devoted to the service. he one day called upon a young man of enterprise and piety, whom he was anxious to induce to settle in new zealand, and offered him fifty pounds per annum out of his own purse, as well as to raise a further sum for him from other sources. nor should it be forgotten, in proof of this disinterestedness, that with all his opportunities and influence in new zealand, he never possessed a single acre of land there, or sought the slightest advantage either for himself or for any member of his family. another feature in his character was his unaffected humility. this was not in him the nervous weakness which disqualifies some men for vigorous action, rendering them either unconscious of their power, or incapable of maintaining and asserting their position, and consequently of discharging its obligations. this, though often called humility, is, in fact, disease, and ought to be resisted rather than indulged. mr. marsden's mind was vigorous and healthy; he took a just measure of his powers and opportunities, as the use he put them to proves abundantly. there was nothing in him of the shyness which disqualifies for public life; he was bold without effrontery, courageous without rashness, firm without obstinacy; but withal he was a humble man. his private correspondence will have shown the reader how anxious he was to submit his own judgment, even on questions affecting his personal character, to what he considered the better judgment of his friends at home. to vanity or ostentation he seems to have been a perfect stranger. there is not a passage in his correspondence, nor can we learn that a word ever fell from his lips, which would lead us to suppose that he ever thought himself in any way an extraordinary man. flattery disgusted him, and even moderate praise was offensive to his feelings. when the life of his friend, dr. mason good, appeared from the pen of dr. olinthus gregory, it contained an appendix, giving an account of his own labours and triumphs at paramatta and in new zealand. this he cut out of the volume with his penknife, without any remark, before he permitted it to lie upon his table or to be read by his family. he was so far from thinking he had accomplished much, either in the colony or amongst the heathen, that he was rather disposed, in his later days, to lament that his life had been almost useless; and indeed he was heard more than once to express a doubt whether he had not mistaken his calling, and been no better than an intruder into the sacred ministry. perhaps failing health and spirits were in part the cause of these misgivings, but his unfeigned humility had a deeper root. it originated in that evangelical piety upon which all his usefulness was built. he saw the holiness of god, he saw his divine perfection reflected in his law, and though he had a clear, abiding sense of his adoption through the grace of our lord jesus christ, this did not interfere with a clear conception too of his own unworthiness. when told one day, by a justly indignant friend, how basely he was misrepresented, "sir," he exclaimed, and the solemnity of his manner showed the depth of his meaning, "these men don't know the worst. why, sir, if i were to walk down the streets of paramatta with my heart laid bare, the very boys would pelt me." such was samuel marsden, a man whose memory is to be revered and his example imitated. "not merely a good man," says the preacher of his funeral sermon, "who filled up the place allotted to him on earth, and then sank into his grave; not merely a faithful minister of christ, who loved and served his saviour and turned many to repentance, but more than either of these. rightly to estimate his character we must view him as a peculiar man, raised up for an especial purpose." and he adds-- "as luther in germany, and john knox in scotland, and cranmer in england, were sent by the head of the church, and fitted with peculiar qualifications to make known his glorious gospel, hidden in romish darkness, so too, no less truly, was samuel marsden raised up in this southern hemisphere, and admirably fitted for the work, and made the instrument of diffusing the light of that same gospel, and of bringing it to bear on the darkness of new zealand and the isles of the sea, and upon the darkness, too, no less real, of the depravity of society in early australia." appendix i. progress of the gospel and of civilization in new zealand, since mr. marsden's decease. the great work of mr. marsden's life was undoubtedly the new zealand mission; but he was also, as we have seen, the early friend, the wise adviser, and not unfrequently the generous host of that devoted band of men who first essayed the introduction of the gospel to the society islands. each of these missions has been attended with astonishing success; each has produced what may be called magnificent results,--results which already far exceed, in some respects, the most sanguine hopes, extravagant as at the time they seemed to be, of mr. marsden and his early coadjutors some fifty years ago. yet in other respects their disappointment would have been great had they lived to witness the present state of things, whether in new zealand or tahiti. instead of native tribes growing up into christian brotherhood, and asserting a national independence, these beautiful islands have bowed to a foreign yoke. instead of native churches they have rather assumed the form of offshoots and dependencies of british churches. a great work has been accomplished, and its fruits will never cease to ripen. but events have occurred which only prophets could have foreseen; changes have taken place which neither political sagacity nor the saintly wisdom of those good men who first projected our foreign missions amidst storms of insult, or, what was worse to bear, the withering influences of a contemptuous neglect, anticipated. it is often so in this world's history. our successes, our trials, the events which happen to us, our national history, and that of the church of christ, scoop out for themselves fresh channels, and flow still onwards, but in the direction perhaps least of all expected. our readers are, we trust, so far interested in the details already given as to desire some further acquaintance with the later history of these great missions since mr. marsden's death. this we propose to give, briefly of course, for the subject would fill a volume; and such a volume, whenever it shall be written well and wisely, will be received with delight by every intelligent member of the whole catholic church of christ. we shall direct our attention in the first place to new zealand. attempts to colonize upon a large scale, attended with constant aggressions upon the native tribes, had occurred before mr. marsden's death, and awakened his anxiety. a new zealand company was formed in , with the avowed object of purchasing land from the maories, and settling large tracts of the island with english emigrants. it made no provision for the spiritual welfare of the natives, nor indeed for that of the european settlers; and it was evident that, however well-intentioned, the project in the hands of a mercantile company would be effected, as such schemes always have been effected, only at the cost of injustice and oppression to the natives. meanwhile danger was threatening from another quarter. louis philippe now sat upon the throne of france. though not ambitious of military conquest, he was cunning and unprincipled, and anxious to extend the power of france by force or fraud. her colonial possessions she had lost during her long war with england, and now scarcely one of them remained. he saw and coveted the islands of the southern ocean, and resolved to repair his colonial empire by the addition of these splendid and inviting prizes. it was said, and we believe with truth, that a frigate was already equipped and on the very point of sailing for new zealand with secret orders to annex that island to the crown of france, when the english government, tardily and with sincere reluctance, resolved to anticipate the project and claim new zealand for the queen of england. this was done, and the island was formally annexed to the english crown, and in january, , became an english colony. for once the story of colonial annexation is neither darkened with crime nor saddened with war and bloodshed. the measure was essential both to the security of the natives and to the work of the protestant missions. lawlessness and anarchy were universal: the maori tribes were slaughtering one another; the white man was slaughtering the maori tribes. for the native laws were obsolete, and the laws of england no man yet had the power to enforce. there was, too, on the part of england, and it was strongly expressed in the british parliament, a determination to secure, as far as possible, not only the safety but the independence of the natives under their old chiefs, and to leave them in possession of their ancient usages and forms of government. in fact, the authority of queen victoria was to be that of a mild protectorate rather than an absolute sovereignty. the chiefs were to acknowledge the supremacy of the crown as represented in the governor. to him, and not as heretofore to the field of battle, with its horrors and cannibalism, were their disputes to be referred; and in all doubtful questions english law, its maxims and analogies, were to be held supreme. upon these easy terms the most fastidious will find little to blame in our annexation of new zealand. the maories did not exceed, it was computed, one hundred thousand souls. suppose they had been twice that number, still they could scarcely be said to _occupy_ the whole of an island of the size of ireland, and quite as fruitful. there was still room for a vast influx of europeans, leaving to the natives wide tracts of land far beyond their wants, either for tillage or the chase, or for a nomad wandering life, had this been the habit of the maories. and when the threatened seizure by france is thrown into the scale, few protestants, of whatever nation they may be, will hesitate to admit that the conduct of england in this instance was both wise and just. the maories in general accepted this new state of things with satisfaction. those of them who resided on the coast and in the neighbourhood of the bay of islands saw that the aggression of the colonists was restrained, and that their own safety was secured. further in the interior, where the want of an english protectorate was less felt, heart-burnings occurred, fomented, as usual, by designing men, and aggravated by the occasional outrage of individuals. some of the tribes resisted, and a war broke out, though happily neither bloody nor of long duration, in which the maories maintained the reputation of their native valour, even against english regiments. nor was it till the year that the peace of the island and the supremacy of the english crown were perfectly restored and asserted. for a time the progress of the gospel was triumphant. for example, archdeacon william williams could report that the number of communicants in the eastern district, beneath his care, had risen from twenty-nine in , to two thousand eight hundred and ninety-three in ; and these were "members of the congregation who were supposed to walk in the narrow way. here then," he exclaims, "is abundant encouragement; the little one is become a thousand. in the course of ten years, there has been time for the novelty of christianity to wear away; but, while some are gone back again to the beggarly elements of the world, hitherto the lord has blessed his vineyards with increase." in other districts the progress of the gospel was equally gratifying. at tauranga, out of a population not exceeding two thousand four hundred, upwards of eight hundred partook of the lord's supper; and yet there were many native christians who, from various causes, had been kept away from this ordinance. other denominations of protestant christians had likewise their trophies to exhibit to the "praise of his grace," who had crowned their labours with success. "the facilities," reports one missionary, upon the eastern coast, "the facilities for usefulness are great; the coast might become one of the most interesting missionary gardens in the world. crowds can be got together at any time for catechizing; the dear children are all anxious for schooling; the native teachers and monitors put themselves quite under your hands; and they are, i think, a very improving and improvable class." similar reports reached home from almost every station in new zealand. at the intervention of a missionary of the church of england, a wesleyan missionary, and an english lay gentleman, (the surveyor-general,) the waikato and wangaroa tribes, bent on mutual slaughter, laid down their arms at the instant the battle should have joined. they had had their war-dance; some random shots had even been fired; their mediators had begun to despair; when at length, towards evening, they agreed to leave the subject in dispute between them (the right to a piece of land), to sir george grey, the governor, and te werowero, a native chieftain, for arbitration. the question was put to the whole army, "do you agree to this?" four hundred armed natives answered with one voice, assenting. the question was put a second time, and they again gave their consent. "the surveyor-general giving the signal, we all," says the missionary, "gave three hearty cheers; after which the natives assembled for evening-prayers, and," he adds, "i trust i felt thankful." the accounts that reached england, filled men's hearts with astonishment; even upon the spot, men long enured to the spiritual warfare with idolatry, were amazed at the greatness of their triumph. they wrote home in strains such as the following. "rotorua is endeared to us by every tie that should endear a place to a missionary's heart. we came hither, to a people utterly debased by everything that was savage. now, there is not a village or place around us, where the morning and evening bell does not call to prayer and praise, and where the sabbath is not observed. i am sometimes astonished when i look back upon the past, and remember what we have passed through. if i think only of those scenes which occurred to us during the southern war, the remembrance seems appalling. now peace reigns in every border; the native chapel stands conspicuous in almost every pa; wars seem almost forgotten; and for new zealand, the promise seems fulfilled, 'i shall give thee the heathen for thine inheritance, and the uttermost parts of the earth for thy possession.'" new zealand was at length, outwardly at least, a christian land. bishop selwyn had, in , taken charge of the church of england and the oversight of her missions, and other denominations assumed a fixed and settled character. the missionary began to merge and disappear in the stated minister. the ancient warrior chieftain too, was fading fast from sight; and we cannot deny that, savage as he was, we part from him with some feelings of respect. who that has a heart to feel, or any imagination capable of being warmed by strains of exquisite pathos, can read unmoved the last words of the dying karepa? the scene is in the lonely village of te hawera, of which he was the chief. mr. colenzo, the missionary, arrived just as his people, with loud cries, sitting around his new-made tomb, bewailed his departure. at night they gathered around their spiritual father in his tent, and one of the natives thus related the last words of karepa. "he summoned us all," said he, "to come close around him, and with much love exhorted us; talking energetically, as was his custom, a long while, he said:--'you well know that i have brought you, from time to time, much riches, muskets, powder, hatchets, knives, blankets. i afterwards heard of the new riches, called faith. i sought it. i went to manawatu; in those days a long and perilous journey, for we were surrounded by enemies; no man travelled alone: i saw the few natives who, it was said, had heard of it; but they could not satisfy me. i sought further, but in vain. i heard afterwards of a white man at otaki, and that with him was the spring where i could fill my empty and dry calabash. i travelled to his place, to otaki, but in vain; he was gone--gone away ill. i returned to you, my children, dark minded. many days passed by; the snows fell, they melted, they disappeared; the buds expanded, and the tangled paths of our low forests were again passable to the foot of the native man. at last we heard of another white man who was going about over mountains and through forests and swamps, giving drink from his calabash to the secluded native--to the remnants of the tribes of the mighty, of the renowned of former days, now dwelling by twos and threes among the roots of the big trees of the ancient forests, and among the long reeds by the rills in the valleys. yes, my grandchildren, my and your ancestors, once spread over the country as the koitarekè (_quail_) and krivi (_apteryx_) once did; but now their descendants are even as the descendants of these birds, scarce, gone, dead, fast hastening to utter extinction. yes, we heard of that white man; we heard of his going over the high snowy range to patea, all over the rocks to turakiráe. i sent four of my children to meet him. they saw his face; yes you, you talked with him. you brought me a drop of water from his calabash. you told me he had said he would come to this far-off isle to see me. i rejoiced, i disbelieved his coming; but i said he may. i built the chapel, we waited expecting. you slept at nights; i did not. he came, he emerged from the long forest, he stood upon te hawera ground. i saw him. i shook hands with him; we rubbed noses together. yes, i saw a missionary's face; i sat in his cloth house (_tent_); i tasted his new food; i heard him talk maori; my heart bounded within me; i listened; i ate his words. you slept at nights; i did not. yes, i listened, and he told me about god, and his son jesus christ, and of peace and reconciliation, and of a loving father's home beyond the stars. and now i, too, drank from his calabash and was refreshed, he gave me a book, as well as words. i laid hold of the new riches for me, and for you, and we have it now. my children, i am old; my teeth are gone, my hair is white; the yellow leaf is falling from the táwai (_beech tree_); i am departing; the sun is sinking behind the great western hills, it will soon be night. but, hear me; hold fast the new riches--the great riches--the true riches. we have had plenty of sin and pain and death; but now we have the true riches. hold fast the true riches, which karepa sought out for you.' "here he became faint, and ceased talking. we all wept like little children around the bed of the dying old man--of our father. he suffered much pain, from which he had scarcely any cessation until death relieved him." but new zealand was now passing through a dangerous crisis. the maori ceased to exist in his savage state. cannibalism was a mere tradition. of the ancient superstitions scarcely a trace was left. european arts and manners were introduced in almost every part of the island, and new zealand took her place amongst other civilized communities. still, under new circumstances fresh dangers threatened her. the church of rome saw from afar and coveted so glorious a possession; and in the course of a single year a romish bishop and sixteen priests landed at wellington, and a second bishop with his troop of priests and nuns at auckland. for a while the childish simplicity of the maori character, fond of show and a stranger to suspicion, gave them great advantage; and the missionaries of evangelical churches viewed their progress with serious apprehension. but as the novelty wore off the maori christian discovered that popery was but a hollow pretence, without heart, or life, or abiding consolation, and whole tribes which had been led astray returned with their chiefs to purer churches in search of better pasturage. lately the translation of the whole of the bible has been completed, and in this we have the best antidote, under god, to the progress of this baneful superstition. new zealand, too, besides its several protestant bishops of the church of england, its zealous missionaries, and stated ministers of every evangelical denomination, has now at length a native ministry of her own maories, few as yet in number, but holy men, men of competent learning and gifts of utterance, who have evidently been called of god. one of these, the rev. riwai te ahu, who was ordained by bishop selwyn, is not only highly esteemed by all the natives of whatever tribe they may be, but by the english too; and he is entirely supported by internal resources, by regular contributions from the natives, and a private grant from the governor himself. we can understand something of the joy with which an honoured missionary, one of the oldest labourers in the field, sat and listened in the house of prayer while he officiated, assisted by the rev. rota waitoa, the only two maori ministers of the church of england in new zealand, and his own early converts, "the one reading prayers, and the other preaching an admirable sermon to his own native tribe." other churches have similar triumphs. the wesleyans have three native assistant ministers, and probably these are not all, for it may be presumed that a great work is going forward in so large an island, of which our missionary societies have no official reports, and by agents who are no longer responsible to them. thus it is often found that in the interior some village or hamlet has become christian where no european missionary was ever seen. native converts have done their own work. still the church in new zealand is in an infant state, surrounded by many dangers. the influx of europeans, the sudden increase of wealth and luxury, the introduction of a new and foreign literature from england, bearing as it were upon its wings all that is bad as well as all that is lovely and of good report in theology, politics, and morals, may well cause, as indeed it does create, the deepest concern to those who have at heart the purity of the maori faith, and the continued progress of the gospel. it is not for those who know that the gospel is the power of god unto salvation, to doubt for a moment of its ultimate success; but the firmest faith may, at the same time, be apprehensive and anxious, if not alarmed, for the fiery trial that awaits her,--not of persecution, but of wealth and luxury, and the sad example of every european vice. let the reader help them with his prayers. we cannot close our sketch of the progress of christianity in new zealand, without some allusion to the canterbury association, one of the most remarkable attempts of modern times to colonize on christian principles, or rather perhaps we should say, to carry abroad the old institutions of england, and plant them as it were full blown in a new country. the design was not altogether original, for the new england puritans of the seventeenth century, had led the way, in their attempts to colonize at boston and in new england, in the days of charles i. they would have carried out the principles, and worship of the brownites to the exclusion of other sects, though happily for the freedom of religion, their design was soon found to be impracticable, and was only partially accomplished. the canterbury association was formed on high church of england principles, "avowedly for the purpose of founding a settlement, to be composed in the first instance of members of that church, or at least of those who did not object to its principles." its early friends now admit that their project was, in some of its parts, utopian and impracticable. the idea, if ever seriously entertained, of excluding by a test of church membership those whose profession differed from their own was abandoned by most of the colonists as soon as they had set foot on the shores of new zealand. in , otakou or otago, in the southern part of the middle island, was colonized by an association of members of the free church of scotland; and in , the first colonists were sent out to the church of england settlement, founded in the vicinity of banks's peninsula, by the canterbury association. the site made choice of possessed a harbour of its own, an immense extent of land, which it was supposed might easily be brought under cultivation, and removed from danger of disturbance from the natives, of whom there were but few, an extent of grazing country unequalled in new zealand, and a territory "every way available for being formed into a province, with a separate legislature." the plan was to sell the land at an additional price, and appropriate one third of the cost to ecclesiastical purposes. the sums thus realized by sales of land, were to be placed at the disposal of an ecclesiastical committee, who were empowered to make such arrangements as they might think fit to organize an endowed church in the colony. a bishopric was to be at once endowed, a college, if not a cathedral, was to be connected with it, a grammar-school of the highest class, was to be opened as well as commercial schools; and all the luxuries of english country life, including good roads, snug villas, well cultivated farms; and good society, were to be found by the future settler, after a very few years of probationary toil. the scheme was warmly taken up at home, and within a single twelvemonth from the th december, , when the first detachment arrived, nearly three thousand emigrants had seated themselves in the canterbury plains. the towns of lyttelton and christchurch were founded, and operations on a large scale were fairly begun. of course bitter disappointment followed, as it too often does with the early colonists, whose expectations are unduly raised by the romantic stories told them in england. but we must quote a passage from "archdeacon paul's letters from canterbury," just published. it may be of use to other emigrants, into whatever region of the world they go. "restless spirits, who had never yet been contented anywhere, expected to find tranquillity in this new arcadia, where their chief occupation would be to recline under the shadow of some overhanging rock, soothing their fleecy charge with the shepherd's pipe, remote from fogs and taxation and all the thousand nameless evils which had made their lives a burthen to them at home. "alas! the reality was soon found to be of a sterner type-- 'these are not scenes for pastoral dance at even, for moonlight rovings in the fragrant glades: soft slumbers in the open eye of heaven, and all the listless joys of summer shades.' long wearisome rides and walks in search of truant sheep and cattle; bivouacs night after night, on the damp cold ground; mutton, damper, (a kind of coarse biscuit,) and tea (and that colonial tea) at breakfast, dinner, and supper, day after day, and week after week, and month after month; wanderings in trackless deserts, with a choice of passing the night on some bleak mountain side or wading through an unexplored swamp; and, after all this labour, finding perhaps that his flock are infected, and that no small amount of money as well as toil must be expended before he can hope for any profit at all;--these are the real experiences of a settler's early days in a young pastoral colony." yet, upon the whole, the founders of the settlement consider that it has answered all reasonable expectations. none of the early settlers have been driven home by the failure of their prospects, and few have been so even from qualified disappointment. the plains of canterbury have a thoroughly english look, dotted in every direction with comfortable farm-houses, well-cultivated inclosures, and rickyards filled with the produce of the harvest: and the great seaport of the colony, lyttelton, is well filled with shipping. christchurch boasts at length its college, incorporated and endowed. it became an episcopal see, too, in , under the first bishop of christchurch; it has its grammar school and sunday schools. here, too, as well as at lyttelton, the wesleyans have taken root, and, besides chapels, have their day and sunday schools. from the first, the scotch church was represented by some enterprising settlers. the decorum of religion is everywhere perceptible; "i believe," writes a nobleman, whose name stands at the head of the association, "that no english colony, certainly none of modern days, and i hardly except those of the seventeenth century has been better supplied with the substantial means of religious worship and education. no one doubts the great material prosperity and promise of the colony; and no one denies that it is the best and most english-like society in all our colonies.... sometimes a very vain notion has been entertained that we meant or hoped to exclude dissenters from our settlement. of course, nothing could be more preposterous. what we meant was to impress the colony in its origin with a strong church of england character. this was done by the simple but effectual expedient of appropriating one third of the original land fund to church purposes, but this was of course a voluntary system." thus new zealand stands at present. the lonely island of the southern ocean approached only fifty years ago with awe by the few adventurous whalers which dared its unknown coasts and harbours, now teems with english colonists. the dreaded new zealander has forsaken his savage haunts and ferocious practices, and may be seen "clothed and in his right mind," and sitting to learn at the feet of some teacher of "the truth as it is in jesus." the face of the country has undergone a corresponding change. and in many places, the scene is such as to force the tears from the eye of the self-exiled settler; the village spire and the church-going bell reminding him of home. what the future may be, we shall not even hazard a conjecture. let it be enough to say that a mighty change has already been accomplished, and that its foundations were laid, and the work itself effected more than by any other man, by samuel marsden. appendix ii. state and prospects of the protestant mission at tahiti under the french protectorate. at the period of mr. marsden's decease, the tahitian mission, over which he had watched with parental solicitude from its infancy, presented an aspect even more cheering than that of new zealand. idolatry had fallen; its idols were utterly abolished; they had found their way to the most ignoble uses, or to the museums of the curious, or those of the various missionary societies in great britain. so complete was their destruction that natives of tahiti have actually visited the museum of the london missionary society within the last few years, and there seen, for the first time in their lives, a tahitian idol. but a dark cloud already skirted the horizon, and the infant church was soon to pass through the purifying furnace of a long, relentless, wearying, and even bitter persecution. the revolution of had placed louis philippe on the throne of france. during the earlier years of his reign, the church of rome was deprived of much of that power and dignity which it had enjoyed under the elder bourbons. as to any hold on the affections of the people of france, this it seldom boasted,--certainly not within the last hundred years. yet the crafty king of the french was not unwilling to give to his restless priesthood the opportunities both of employment and renown in foreign parts; especially if in doing so he could extend his own power, and add a wreath to that national glory so dear to frenchmen. the priests were therefore instructed to direct their attention to the south sea islands. animated partly by hatred to england, they succeeded in effecting a settlement in the society islands. the first of them, who arrived there, called columban (though his original name was murphy), came in rather strange guise. "he was clad like a man before the mast, smoked a short pipe, and at first was mistaken for what he appeared to be. he had an old english passport, and among other pious tricks, endeavoured to make use of the lion and the unicorn, to prove to the natives that he was sent by the king of great britain."[l] two others, caret and laval, arrived soon afterwards. the law of the island forbade foreigners to reside without obtaining the sanction of the queen. the priests, accordingly, when their arrival became known, were ordered to depart. they refused; comparing the protestant missionaries to simon magus, and claiming for themselves the exclusive right to instruct the tahitian people. after some delay, however, they left, and went to the grambier islands. captain lord e. russell, then with his ship of war at the island, publicly declared, that "if the priests had remained in the country, anarchy and confusion, disastrous to the island, would have inevitably ensued." this was in december, . [l] wilkes's tahiti, etc. in september, , m. montpellier, accompanied by murphy-columban, arrived at tahiti. he was followed in by captain du petit thouars in the frigate venus, who made no secret in avowing to our english officers that he was looking out for a suitable island on which to hoist the french flag for the purpose, he added, of forming a penal settlement. returning to paris, thouars was raised to the rank of rear-admiral, and sent back to the pacific with his flag in la reine blanche on a secret expedition. he seized on two of the marquesas islands, built a fort on each, and garrisoned them with four hundred men. he now wrote home, demanding thrice that number of troops and four ships of war for the maintenance of his conquest; but he had further objects in view. false representations had probably been made to the french government with regard to the removal of caret and laval; and captain du petit thouars was instructed to demand satisfaction at tahiti for injuries done to french subjects. a desire of conquest no doubt inflamed guizot the french minister--alas! that a protestant should thus have tarnished his fame--as well as his royal master; but hatred of protestantism had its full share in these nefarious proceedings. one m. henicy, who accompanied the antoine french frigate to tahiti, in the summer of , thus writes of the english missionaries: "ferocious oppressors, shameless monopolizers, trafficking in the word of god, they have procured for themselves a concert of curses. their ministers are found to be vile impostors." caret, murphy, and the other priests now returned to tahiti. a french consul was appointed, a worthless, profligate man; he professed, however, to be a zealous friend of the true faith, anxious for missionary labourers to convert the deluded tahitian protestants. very little progress, however, could be made in this spiritual work; the natives obstinately preferred sermons to masses, and possessed so little taste as to reject pictures and rosaries while they still read their bibles. it was evident that efforts of a more strenuous kind, though, such as the church of rome is never unwilling to resort to when persuasion fails, must be tried. and now it was announced that the island was placed under the protection of france; to this arrangement, it was pretended, the chiefs of tahiti and the queen herself had consented; nay, that they had solicited the protection of france. this unblushing falsehood was immediately exposed, and we now know, from queen pomare herself, that all the proceedings in this disgraceful affair had their origin in fraud and treachery. they were chiefly carried out by the french consul, who is accused of having, under false pretences, prevailed on certain chiefs of the island to affix their signatures, in the name of the queen, to a document, the object of which was to induce the king of the french to take tahiti under his protection, the pretence being grounded on a false statement, which accused some native chiefs, and the representatives of other nations, of bad conduct and various crimes. when the queen was apprised of this document, she called a council of her chiefs, with an assembled multitude of natives and foreigners; and, in the presence of the british, french, and american consuls, denied all knowledge of it, as also did the chiefs themselves who signed it. they declared that the french consul brought it to them in the night, and that they put their names to it without knowing what it contained. the governor, being one of the persons imposed upon, wrote to the british consul, mr. cunningham, declaring that the parties subscribing did not know what were the contents of the letter which the french consul brought them to sign, and that they affixed their names to it, as it were, in the dark. the translator also affirmed that it must have been written by some person not a tahitian; its idiom being foreign, its orthography bad, words misapplied, and the handwriting even foreign. but the most convincing evidence of the forgery was the declaration of two of the chiefs who signed the document, tati and ulami, to the following effect: "that all men may know, we, who have signed our names hereunto, clearly and solemnly make known and declare, as upon oath, that the french consul did wholly dictate and write the letter, said to be written by the queen pomare and her governors, requesting protection of the king of the french. through fear we signed it. it was in his own house, and in the night time, that the document was signed by us. and we signed it also because he said, if you will sign your names to this, i will give you one thousand dollars each when the french admiral's ship returns to tahiti. (signed) "tati, "ulami." this disgraceful plot was carried on in the absence of the queen. she was no sooner made acquainted with it, than she addressed a short and dignified protest and remonstrance to the queen of great britain, the president of the united states, and the king of the french. few diplomatic notes are more worthy of a place in history than that which was addressed to louis philippe. "peace be to you. i make a communication to you, and this is its nature,-- "during my absence from my own country a few of my people, entirely without my knowledge or authority, wrote a letter to you, soliciting your assistance. i disavow any knowledge of that document. health to you. (signed) "pomare." but the french consul proceeded to form a provisional government of three persons, placing himself at the head of it as consul-commissary of the king. the triumvirate behaved with the greatest insolence, not only to the poor queen, but even to the british flag. captain sir t. thompson, with the talbot, lay in the harbour. the queen arrived and hoisted the tahitian flag, which the talbot saluted. a letter from the consul-commissary and the two french officials with whom he was associated was addressed as a protest to the gallant captain, "holding him responsible to the king of the french, his government and nation, for the consequences of such disrespect, and for a measure so hostile towards france." sir thomas knew his duty too well to answer the affront, or in any way to notice it; but he could only look on with silent sorrow and disgust, he had no power to interfere. the queen also received an insolent letter from the consul; he even forced himself into her presence, and behaved in a rude and disrespectful manner. "he said to me," she writes, in a letter to the captain of the talbot, "shaking his head at me, throwing about his arms, and staring fiercely at me, 'order your men to hoist the new flags, and that the new government be respected.' i protested against this conduct, and told him i had nothing more to say to him." bereft of other hope, the insulted and greatly injured pomare wrote a most touching and pathetic letter to queen victoria. it was published in the newspapers, and went to the heart of every man and woman in britain who had a heart to feel for dignity and virtue in distress, "have compassion on me in my present trouble, in my affliction and great helplessness. do not cast me away; assist me quickly, my friend. i run to you for refuge, to be covered, under your great shadow, the same as afforded to my fathers by your fathers, who are now dead, and whose kingdoms have descended to us." she explains how her signature was obtained. "taraipa (governor of tahiti) said to me, 'pomare, write your name under this document (the french deed of protection); if you don't sign your name you must pay a fine of , dollars, to-morrow and the following day; and should the first payment be delayed beyond two o'clock the first day, hostilities will be commenced, and your country taken from you. on account of this threat," says the queen, "against my will i signed my name. i was compelled to sign it, and because i was afraid; for the british and american subjects residing in my country in case of hostilities would have been indiscriminately massacred. no regard would have been paid to parties." there was no exaggeration in this pathetic statement; it is confirmed by a letter--one of the last he ever wrote--from john williams, the martyr missionary, who called at tahiti, march , on his last fatal voyage to the new hebrides. "you will doubtless see by the papers the cruel and oppressive conduct of the french. a sixty-gun frigate has been sent here to chastise the queen and people of tahiti for not receiving the roman catholic priests; and the captain demanded dollars ( , ?) to be paid in twenty-four hours, or threatened to carry devastation and death to every island in the queen's dominion. mr. pritchard and some merchants here paid the money and saved the lives of the people. the french would only hear one side of the question, but demanded four things within twenty-four hours: dollars ( , ), a letter of apology to the french king, a salute of twenty-one guns, and the hoisting of the french flag." in short, the island became a french dependency, and the poor queen was left with the mere shadow of her former sovereignty. and so it remains to this day. a strong feeling of indignation was aroused in england. missionary meetings, particularly a noble one at leeds, were held, pledging themselves to do all in their power to induce our government to exert its legitimate influence with the government of france to restore to the queen of tahiti her just independence, and to all classes of her subjects their civil rights and religious freedom. but the english government was either infatuated or afraid. lord aberdeen, secretary of state for colonial affairs, stated in the house of lords that, "although he was not sufficiently informed of the precise grounds upon which the french government had acted, or of the complaints made against the authorities in those islands which had led to the convention; yet he had no apprehension as to the establishment of the french in those seas, nor that our commercial or political interests would be affected by it." he stated that "he had received the most unqualified assurance that every degree of protection and encouragement would be afforded to the british missionaries residing in those islands; that in granting the protectorship to the french king, it had been stipulated that all the places of worship at present existing would receive protection, and that the fullest liberty would be given to the missionaries to exercise their functions." and he concluded by saying, "that he reposed the fullest confidence, not only in the king of the french himself, but in the minister, who at this moment was the principal adviser of that monarch." but a righteous god looked on. this king was driven from his throne, and died an exile in england; while his minister, m. guizot, who sacrificed his protestantism to his ambition in this matter, after escaping with difficulty in , from a mob who would have torn him to pieces, saw himself compelled to give up for ever all hope of recovering power in france. from that time to the present all political power and influence has centred in the french governors, who have been sent out from europe, and their subordinate officers. pomare still lives, revered by her people, but without being able to exercise any one independent act of sovereignty; and the native chiefs and governors who formerly took a prominent part in all public affairs, and in their respective districts possessed great influence, are without a vestige of authority, except in those instances in which they have been induced to accept office under the french governor. in , a treaty, so called, was framed, which did indeed provide for "the freedom of religious worship, and especially that the english missionaries shall continue in their labours without molestation." "the same shall apply," says its fifth article, "to every other form of worship: no one shall be molested or constrained in his belief." but this treaty was probably intended only to cajole those whom it could not intimidate, and in practice it is a mere dead letter. the treaty itself is brief and informal, and evidently drawn up in haste, or perhaps with a view, from the absence of precision in its language, to provide for its more easy violation. yet if the language in which it is couched conveys any meaning the treaty provides that the people of the island, and the english missionaries in the prosecution of their labours amongst them, shall continue to enjoy unrestricted religious liberty. now it might be urged, and with some plausibility, by the french authorities in tahiti, that the people are still allowed, as heretofore, to attend their public worship, and to retain their bibles and christian books. they might even maintain, that although a number of romish priests, with a bishop at their head, have been thrust upon the island, no protestant missionary has been expelled by the act of the authorities. the substantial truth of these statements cannot be denied, and yet there is abundant evidence that the clauses of the treaty guaranteeing the religious liberty of the islanders and the missionaries have, for every practical purpose, been palpably and grossly violated. the places of worship have not indeed been closed, but the english missionaries have, from time to time, been placed under such severe restrictions that four of their number, finding themselves entirely debarred from the free exercise of their ministry, left the island in . there are at present but two missionaries remaining. one of these is solely engaged in the operations of the press, but without permission to preach to the people; and the other--far advanced in age--is merely permitted, by a kind of sufferance, to remain at his post, and to minister to his own flock, though prohibited from extending his labours to other districts. so far as the churches and congregations scattered over the island are still supplied with the means of religious instruction, it is by the agency of natives, many of whom were formerly trained to the work by the missionaries. but these native preachers are subject to the constant inspection and interference of the authorities, and they hold their offices solely by sufferance. it will thus be seen, that although the english missionaries have not been forcibly ejected from the island, the object aimed at by the french authorities has, through the artful policy they have adopted, been effectually attained. the missionaries have been silenced, disowned, and cast aside. in pursuance of the same cautious and subtle policy, the french rulers have not ventured to excite or irritate the people by sanctioning any hasty measures for enforcing conformity to the roman catholic faith; still they have encouraged the formation of elementary schools, in which the young people are taught by priests appointed by the government, and everything is done to give undue importance to these schools, so that the pupils taught in them may, at the periodical examinations, appear to more advantage than those under native masters. notwithstanding the prevalence of a system so calculated to ensnare and mystify the minds of a simple unsuspicious people, it is a most remarkable and gratifying fact that instances of apostasy to romanism have been exceedingly rare, and that the bulk of the people continue stedfast in their attachment to the pure scriptural truths taught them by the missionaries. to account for this it should be borne in mind that the churches and congregations still assemble as heretofore for divine worship under native pastors, some of whom are known to be pious, devoted, and well qualified men. then again, through the active and efficient agency of the rev. w. howe, who, though prohibited from preaching, still remains in charge of the mission press at papeete, the native pastors and people have been well supplied with religious books. and it is further to be noted that the natives generally are amply provided with copies of the sacred scriptures in their own language, which will no doubt, in the good providence of god, prove an effectual safeguard against popish error and superstition. in the year , five thousand copies of the entire tahitian bible, revised by the rev. messrs howe and joseph, and generously provided by the british and foreign bible society, were sent out in the missionary ship john williams for circulation in tahiti and the other islands of the society group; and again, in , three thousand copies of the new testament were despatched to tahiti, chiefly for the use of schools. in proof that the social and political troubles of the island have not had the effect of diminishing the number of its christian population, the following most satisfactory statement, furnished by mr. howe, dated th july, , may be adduced. "i have been comparing the number of persons in church fellowship at the present time with the numbers respectively before the establishment of the french protectorate, and at the period when it had become fully established. in , there were about one thousand six hundred and eighty church members in tahiti and eimeo. in , when the island of tahiti was supplied by three foreign missionaries, and the students in the seminary, the report of the society stated the number of church members to be upwards of one thousand six hundred, which is probably equal to that of . almost ever since that period the districts have been entirely supplied by native pastors only, with the exception of bunaauia; and there are at the present time upwards of one thousand six hundred members on the two islands, and many are now seeking admission. it must also be borne in mind that during the interval between and the present time, the population of the two islands has been reduced by epidemic disease and removals at least one thousand, a large proportion of whom were church members from middle to old age, so that the present number in fellowship is comprised of the strength and pride of the nation, and the proportion of communicants to the population is greater than it has ever been." of the kind of annoyance to which the missionaries are exposed, and of the influences which are brought to bear against them, the reader will be able to judge after perusing the account of a prosecution lately instituted by the romish bishop against the rev. mr. howe. in the autumn of , the roman catholic bishop having issued a catechism in which the doctrines and superstitions of popery were dogmatically stated, and protestantism as grossly misrepresented, mr. howe felt constrained, by a sense of christian fidelity, to publish in reply a firm but temperate refutation. for this publication a criminal action was commenced against him by the bishop; but so vexatious and unfounded were the charges that the legal officer of the government, on whom it devolved to prosecute, though urged by the governor, declined to bring the case into court, for which he was suspended from his office; and when at length the case was carried before the proper tribunal, the charges against our missionary were dismissed. but the bishop, notwithstanding his signal discomfiture, was not to be diverted from his object; he determined to renew the contest, in the hope that by a change of tactics his ultimate object might be secured. the _criminal_ prosecution already described was brought to a termination in december. on the following th of march, mr. howe received notice that his inveterate opponent had entered a _civil_ action against him; and although the charges brought forward were essentially the same, they were put into such a shape, and contained statements so grossly exaggerated, that in order to meet them mr. howe was compelled to remodel his reply. after various delays, the trial at length commenced, in the court of first instance, on the th april, , and in proof of the malevolence by which the bishop was actuated, it may be stated that he demanded , francs damages, the suppression of the tatara-taa,[m] and that mr. howe should pay all the expenses of the courts, and also for copies of the judgment for distribution. [m] the native name of the publication issued by mr. howe, in refutation of the bishop's catechism; which the latter charged to be libellous. the following is a summary of the proceedings, which excited the liveliest interest in the island, both among the natives and the foreign residents. "my pleadings," writes mr. howe, "were so successful that the court declared itself incompetent to judge the case, and fined his lordship francs, and condemned him to all the expenses of that court and those of the preceding chambers. "the judgment was read on the rd of may. on the th i received notice that the bishop had appealed to the imperial tribunal, and demanded that the previous judgment should be rescinded. "this tribunal met on the th, when i objected to one of the judges, giving as my reasons that an intimacy existed between him and the bishop, which rendered his sitting as a judge in the case illegal. my objection was sustained by the court. "on the th, i objected to his lordship's advocate, as being under the sentence of banishment for political offences, and by which he had forfeited his civil rights. this was also sustained by the court. "on the th, the bishop himself appeared to plead his own cause, and he likewise objected to one of the judges, but his objection was overruled. suffice it to say, that after having made several unsuccessful attempts to prove my defence unsound, the bishop beat a retreat, and said that if i would consent to submit my cause to arbitration he would withdraw the action. i demanded that his cause, to which this is an answer, should be submitted to the same test, and he consented. "the court then retired, and on its return announced its judgment to be, that the decisions of the previous courts were sustained, and that the bishop should pay all the expenses of this appeal, as well as the expenses of the previous courts. by this step his lordship cannot appeal again, either to the administration here, or to the court of cassation in france." it is gratifying to learn, that through this long and painful affair, our missionary not only had the countenance of the british and american consuls, and the fervent prayers of the native converts, both in public and private, but that even the french officers, greatly to their honour, openly expressed their sympathy. in order more fully to appreciate the result of this protracted contest, it should be borne in mind that the real point at issue was, whether the cause of protestant christianity, as represented by mr. howe, should be permitted to hold a footing in the island; that mr. howe stood alone, unsustained, excepting by a stedfast confidence in the justice of his cause, and the generous aid and sympathy of friends, french, english, and native, who rallied round him in the time of need; that his potent adversary could reasonably calculate on the countenance and encouragement of the authorities, who, as frenchmen and roman catholics, would naturally be disposed to favour the interests of their own church, and to repress what they had been taught to regard as heresy. but in the providence of god, the presiding judges of the french tribunals before which the cause was heard magnanimously regardless of all prejudices on the score of nationality or religion, delivered a judgment which, while completely exculpating the accused, reflected the highest honour upon their own discernment, impartiality, and justice. while, therefore we devoutly recognise the hand of god so conspicuously manifest in overruling and directing this trial, or rather series of trials, to so merciful an issue, we would add the expression of our hope and belief that so long as the cause of protestant christianity is represented in tahiti by men like-minded with mr. howe, and so long as the courts of justice on the island are presided over by men who, without fear or favour, dispense their judgments in accordance with the principles of truth and equity, the light of the gospel, which has for so many years made glad the hills and valleys of tahiti, can never be extinguished. london: printed by w. clowes and sons, stamford street. * * * * * publications of the religious tract society. biographical works. the life of francis, lord bacon, lord chancellor of england. by the rev. joseph sortain, a.b. of trinity college, dublin. with a portrait engraved on steel. foolscap vo. _s._ _d._ extra cloth boards. luther: his mental and spiritual history. by barnas sears, d.d. mo. with portrait of luther. _s._ _d._ cloth boards. the life of amelia opie. by miss brightwell. with portrait. foolscap vo. _s._ cloth boards; _s._ _d._ extra cloth boards, gilt edges. memoir of old humphrey; with gleanings from his portfolio in prose and verse. with steel-plate portrait. the twenty-ninth thousand. mo. _s._ cloth boards; _s._ _d._ cloth extra. memoir of lady warwick. with her diary, a.d. to . with a portrait. mo. _s._ cloth boards. the henry family memorialised. by sir j. b. williams. mo. _s._ _d._ cloth boards; _s._ half-bound. the christian lady of the seventeenth century. by sir j. b. williams, knt., ll.d. a new edition. _s._ _d._ cloth boards; _s._ _d._ half-bound. missionary in syria; or, the life of mrs. s. l. smith, late of the american mission in syria. mo. _s._ cloth boards; _s._ _d._ half-bound. the prison visitor; or, the life of miss sarah martin, of great yarmouth; with extracts from her writings and journals. mo. _s._ cloth boards. memoir of john lang bickersteth, late of rugby school. with a preface by the rev. j. bickersteth, m.a. mo. _s._ cloth boards. the useful christian; or, memoir of t. cranfield. mo. _s._ _d._ cloth boards; _s._ half-bound. the life of harlan page. mo. _s._ cloth boards. the life of felix neff. mo. _s._ _d._ cloth boards. the pastor in affliction; or, the life of the rev. h. mowes. with preface by the rev. j. davies, b.d. mo. _s._ cloth boards; _s._ _d._ half-bound. the swiss reformer; or, the life of william farel. mo. _s._ cloth boards. the swiss pastor; or, the life of the rev. f. gonthier. mo. _s._ cloth boards. the lives of the popes. parts i., ii., iii., and iv. _d._ each, fancy cover; _d._ cloth boards. or may be had in two volumes, _s._ _d._ each; _s._ extra boards. biography of eminent christians. _s._ cloth boards; _s._ _d._ cloth extra. the church in the army; or, memoirs of officers and soldiers. mo. _s._ _d._ cloth boards; _s._ half-bound. new educational series. _recommended to the attention of heads of colleges, members of universities, and principals of public and private schools._ the history of england; from the invasions of julius cæsar to the year . by thomas milner, a.m., f.r.g.s. mo. with two maps. _s._ cloth boards. the history of greece; from the earliest times to a.d. . by professor stowell, d.d. mo. with a map. _s._ _d._ cloth boards. the history of rome; from the earliest times to the fall of the empire. by thomas milner, a.m., f.r.g.s. mo. with three maps. _s._ cloth boards. [questions on ditto. mo. _d._] a universal geography: in four parts: historical, mathematical, physical, and political. by thomas milner, a.m., f.r.g.s. illustrated by ten coloured maps. mo. _s._, cloth boards. lives of illustrious greeks. by professor stowell, d.d. mo. _s._ cloth boards. the bible handbook; an introduction to the study of sacred scripture. by joseph angus, d.d., member of the royal asiatic society. mo. with a map. _s._ cloth boards; _s._ half-bound. [questions on ditto. mo. _d._] paley's horÃ� paulinÃ�. with notes and a supplementary treatise, entitled horÃ� apostolicÃ�. by the rev. t. r. birks, a.m., late fellow of trinity college, cambridge. with a map. mo. _s._ cloth boards. paley's evidences of christianity. with introduction, notes, and supplement. by the rev. t. r. birks, a.m. mo. _s._ cloth boards. the analogy of religion to the constitution and course of nature. also, fifteen sermons. by joseph butler, d.c.l. with a life of the author, a copious analysis, notes, and indexes. by joseph angus, d.d. _s._ _d._ cloth boards. the elements of moral science. by francis wayland, d.d. with notes and analysis by joseph angus, d.d. mo. _s._ cloth boards; _s._ _d._ half-bound. biblical and theological works. a biblical cyclopÃ�dia; or, a dictionary of eastern antiquities, geography, natural history, etc. edited by john eadie, ll.d. with maps and pictorial illustrations. a new edition, vo. _s._ _d._ cloth boards; _s._ _d._ calf. christian encouragement; or, attempts to console and aid the distressed and anxious. by john sheppard. royal mo. _s._ boards; _s._ half-bound; mo. edition, _s._ boards; _s._ morocco. christian philosophy. by alexander vinet, d.d. mo. _s._ _d._ boards; _s._ half-bound. commentary on the romans. by professor hodge. mo. _s._ _d._ cloth boards; _s._ _d._ half-bound. essays on the evidences, doctrines, and practical operation of christianity. by joseph john gurney. mo. _s._ cloth boards. harmony of the four gospels, in the authorized version. by edward robinson, d.d., ll.d., author of "biblical researches in palestine." with explanatory notes and reference to parallel and illustrative passages. two maps. royal mo. _s._ boards. jacob's well. by the rev. g. a. rogers, m.a. mo. _s._ _d._ cloth boards. leighton's (archp.) practical commentary on the first general epistle of st. peter. vols. mo. _s._ cloth; _s._ half-bound; royal mo. with portrait, _s._ cloth boards; _s._ calf. pocket paragraph bible: according to the authorized version; with an entirely new selection of copious references, prefaces, and notes. with maps. _s._ cloth boards; _s._ roan gilt; _s._ french morocco; _s._ turkey morocco; flexible back, _s._ rome; its temper and its teachings. by geo. h. davis. foolscap vo. _s._ _d._ cloth boards. the annotated paragraph bible. the old testament, according to the authorized version, arranged in paragraphs and parallelisms, with explanatory notes, prefaces to the several books; and an entirely new selection of references to parallel and illustrative passages. with maps and engravings. super-royal vo. _s._ cloth boards. the atonement: being four discourses by the lord bishop of gloucester, dr. chalmers, w. archer butler, m.a., and robert hall, m.a. foolscap vo. _s._ _d._ cloth boards. the attraction of the cross. designed to illustrate the leading truths, obligations, and hopes of christianity. by gardiner spring, d.d. mo. _s._ cloth boards; _s._ half-bound. the benefit of christ's death. originally written in italian by aonio paleario. an introduction by the rev. john ayre, m.a. mo. _s._ _d._ bound in cloth. the book of psalms, according to the authorized version: arranged in parallelisms. with a preface and explanatory notes. _s._ extra cloth boards; _s._ _d._ with curtain-flaps to cover edges. the divine life: a book of facts and histories. by the rev. john kennedy, m.a., f.r.g.s. foolscap vo. _s._ _d._ cloth boards. the essentials of christianity, theoretically and practically considered. by the late rev. joseph milner, m.a. foolscap vo. _s._ cloth boards. the great question; will you consider the subject of personal religion? by henry a. boardman, d.d., of philadelphia. royal mo. _s._ _d._ cloth boards. the great usurper. ( thess. ii. .) royal mo. _s._ _d._ cloth boards. the justified believer: his security, conflicts, and triumph. by w. b. mackenzie, m.a. _s._ boards. the lights of the world; or, illustrations of character, drawn from the records of christian life. by the rev. john stoughton. royal mo. _s._ _d._ boards; _s._ extra boards. the new biblical atlas, and scripture gazetteer. containing twelve superior maps and plans, together with descriptive letterpress. super-royal vo. _s._ _d._ plain; _s._ outlines coloured; _s._ _d._ on imperial drawing paper, full coloured, and bound in boards. the new testament pocket commentary. mo. _s._ _d._ cloth boards. the old testament pocket commentary. with numerous explanatory and illustrative notes. mo. vols., _s._ _d._ each, _s._ _d._ cloth boards; or in one volume, _s._ _d._ the stars of the east: or, prophets and apostles. by the rev. john stoughton. royal mo. _s._ _d._ cloth boards; _s._ extra boards, gilt. thoughts chiefly designed as preparative or persuasive to private devotion. by john sheppard. royal mo. _s._ boards; _s._ half-bound. mo. edition, _s._ _d._ boards. water from the well-spring, for the sabbath hours of afflicted believers. by edward bickersteth, m.a. royal mo. _s._ cloth boards. * * * * * transcriber's notes: missing punctuation has been added and obvious punctuation errors have been corrected. alternate spellings have been retained. footnotes have been moved closer to their reference points as an aid to the reader. the following printer errors have been corrected: page vi: "the bay of islands, new zealand (_engraving_)" added to the table of contents. page : "aud" changed to "and" (discovery and early history of). page : "shoolhouse" changed to "schoolhouse" (breaking and entering schoolhouse at kissing point). page : "set set" changed to "set" (in fact set on foot) page : "misssionaries" changed to "missionaries" (the advice of the faithful missionaries). page : "asistant" changed to "assistant" (three native assistant ministers). page : "cantrebury" changed to "canterbury" (the canterbury association). page : "copions" changed to "copious" (a copious analysis, notes, and indexes.) old new zealand, a tale of the good old times; and a history of the war in the north against the chief heke, in the year . told by an old chief of the ngapuhi tribe. by a pakeha maori. with an introduction by the earl of pembroke. london: richard bentley and son, publishers in ordinary to her majesty the queen, new burlington street. . chiswick press: c. whittingham, tooks court, chancery lane. contents. page introduction ix preface to the original edition xxiii chapter i. introductory -- first view of new zealand -- first sight of the natives, and first sensations experienced by a mere pakeha -- a maori chief's notions of trading in the old times -- a dissertation on "courage" -- a few words on dress -- the chief's soliloquy -- the maori cry of welcome chapter ii. the market price of a pakeha -- the value of a pakeha "as such" -- maori hospitality in the good old times -- a respectable friend -- maori mermaids -- my notions of the value of gold -- how i got on shore chapter iii. a wrestling match -- beef against melons -- the victor gains a loss -- "our chief" -- his speech -- his _status_ in the tribe -- death of "melons" -- rumours of peace and war -- getting the pa in fighting order -- my friend the "relation eater" -- expectation and preparation -- arrival of doubtful friends -- sham fight -- the "taki" -- the war dance -- another example of maori hospitality -- crocodile's tears -- loose notions about heads -- tears of blood -- brotherly love -- capital felony -- peace chapter iv. a little affair of "flotsam and jetsam" -- rebellion crushed in the bud -- a pakeha's house sacked -- maori law -- a maori lawsuit -- affairs thrown into chancery chapter v. every englishman's house is his castle -- my estate and castle -- how i purchased my estate -- native titles to land, of what nature -- value of land in new zealand -- land commissioners -- the triumphs of eloquence -- magna charta chapter vi. how i kept house -- maori freebooters -- an ugly customer -- the "suaviter in modo" -- a single combat to amuse the ladies -- the true maori gentleman -- character of the maori people chapter vii. excitement caused by first contact with europeans -- the two great institutions of maori land -- the muru -- the tapu -- instances of legal robbery -- descriptions and examples of the muru -- profit and loss -- explanation of some of the workings of the law of muru chapter viii. the muru falling into disuse -- why -- examples of the tapu -- the personal tapu -- evading the tapu -- the undertaker's tapu -- how i got tabooed -- frightful difficulties -- how i got out of them -- the war tapu -- maori war customs chapter ix. the tapu tohunga -- the maori oracle -- responses of the oracle -- priestcraft chapter x. the priest evokes a spirit -- the consequences -- a maori tragedy -- the "tohunga" again chapter xi. the local tapu -- the taniwha -- the battle on motiti -- death of tiki whenua -- reflections -- brutus, marcus antonius, and tiki whenua -- suicide chapter xii. the tapa -- instances of -- the storming of mokoia -- pomare -- hongi ika -- tareha -- honour amongst thieves chapter xiii. "my rangatira" -- the respective duties of the pakeha and his rangatira -- public opinion -- a "pakeha kino" -- description of my rangatira -- his exploits and misadventures -- his moral principles -- decline in the numbers of the natives -- proofs of former large population -- ancient forts -- causes of decrease chapter xiv. trading in the old times -- the native difficulty -- virtue its own reward -- rule britannia -- death of my chief -- his dying speech -- rescue -- how the world goes round chapter xv. mana -- young new zealand -- the law of england -- "pop goes the weasel" -- right if we have might -- god save the queen -- good advice history of the war in the north of new zealand against the chief heke introduction. in the good old times of conquest and colonization (i like to be particular about my dates and places), the civilized nations of the day followed a simple policy in regard to the savage races with whom they came in contact, which may be roughly described as going their own way, and punishing the natives if they didn't conform to it, without troubling themselves much about what the aforesaid natives thought or felt on the subject. if they understood the meaning of it so much the better for them, if they did not it could not be helped. holding themselves to be morally and intellectually far superior to the savages, they maintained that it was the savage's business to understand and conform to their notions, and not their business to regard the savage's. as for giving savages the rights of civilized men it was seldom thought of; savages were to be treated as such. i do not exactly know when this sort of native policy was first practised, but i know that it has lasted, with modifications, even to our day, and is to be seen in full working order in more than one part of the globe. and let me remark (pace the philanthropists) that it is not always the unwisest or cruellest policy that can be followed, for this reason, that it is simple, consistent, and easily understood. the man or the nation that consistently follows its own path, turning aside for no consideration, soon becomes at least thoroughly known if not intelligently understood. and misconceptions and misunderstandings are the most fruitful of all causes of bloodshed between civilized and savage races. let me confess, moreover, that there have been moments when i have felt certain carnal hankerings after that same old native policy. when, for instance, i had just left the french colony of new caledonia, where amicable relations with the natives were preserved, and the country made as safe as italy from end to end by the simple expedient of regularly and invariably executing a certain number of natives for every white man that they disposed of, without much inquiry into the motives of the murderers; and had returned to new zealand to hear of a most lively massacre at poverty bay, perpetrated by three hundred maori gentlemen, very well up in their old testaments and extremely practical in the use of the new,[ ] who having satisfied the more pressing demands of their appetite upon the field of their exploit, had shown the sacred light of civilization that was burning within them by _potting the remainder of the corpses in tins_ and sending them as presents to their friends in the country, and had then departed to the mountains, filled with the comfortable conviction that nothing worse than imprisonment would follow the improbable event of their capture, that after a year or two of most enjoyable skirmishing the matter would be allowed to drop, and that they would most of them go to their graves well-honoured and unhung.[ ] [footnote : they made cartridges of them. these were the hau haus, a sect of maories who, when the prestige of christianity first began to wane in the native mind, abolished the new testament, retained the old, which was more to their taste, and by mixing with it a large quantity of their old heathenism, produced a religion entirely devoted theoretically and practically to plunder and blood.] [footnote : i regret to say that the strict propriety (according to the received code of that day) with which the poverty-bay massacre, and the fighting which followed it, were prosecuted on both sides, was marred by the scandalous behaviour of a settler whose name i forget; this man's wife and child were mutilated, killed, &c., at the massacre; it was done in a most correct way, but somehow made him most unaccountably and unreasonably angry. he joined the expedition that was sent in pursuit of the murderers, and in one of the first engagements some dozen of them were made prisoners. at night he approached them, and, taking treacherous advantage of their guileless confidence, asked them if they had participated in the massacre, feast, &c.; and they, never dreaming that they had anything to fear from the admission, innocently answered in the affirmative, whereon this monster, knowing well that the poor fellows would escape capital, or even very serious, punishment, on the grounds that they were prisoners of war, or had brown skins, or excellent motives, or a deficient moral sense, or a defective education, deliberately shot the whole lot with his revolver. i need hardly mention that had this act been performed by a maori upon white men by way of "utu" (revenge, payment) for some of his tribe that had been killed, it would have been quite "tiku" (correct, proper); but for a white man so to behave was scandalous. i forget what punishment was awarded him: let us hope he got what he deserved; and may this story be a warning to those who let their angry passions rise. the leader of the hau hau expedition was a ruffian called te kooti. the chief of the native contingent that joined in their pursuit was a maori, of the old-fashioned sort, named ropata. a friend of mine asked him one day what he thought would be done with te kooti if he were taken. "oh, you'll make him a judge," answered ropata, coolly. "what do you mean?" asked my friend. "well," said ropata, "the last two rebels you caught you made native assessors, and te kooti's a much greater man than either of them; so i don't see how you can do less than make him a judge. but you won't if _i_ catch him," he added, with a grin.] at moments like these i have had ideas on native policy that i dare not utter in the latitude of exeter hall, and the era of the nineteenth century. but when new zealand was colonized the feeling of the english public was distinctly philanthropical towards native races (especially at a distance), and the old policy was thoroughly discarded, for one, in its general theory and intention at least, more enlightened and more humane. speaking broadly, i think one can see all through the chequered course of our maori policy an earnest desire to treat the native as a man and a brother; to give him the status of a civilized man whenever it was possible to do so; and when not possible to consider and make due allowance for the fact of his being uncivilized, and to guide and lead him towards civilization by just and generous treatment, and appeals to his moral and intellectual faculties. i do not wish to dwell upon the dangerous extravagances into which such a policy might and did occasionally run--such as letting off one native cut-throat by treating him as a civilized prisoner of war, and reprieving the next on the ground that he was a poor untutored savage who knew no better, to the utter destruction and confusion of all sense of power, justice, and security--great as was the amount of mischief that they did, but will confine myself to what i believe was the main cause of the almost total failure of this noble and, in the main, plausible policy. it is quite evident that to give it a chance of success it must have been founded on a thorough understanding of the native character. it is no use making signs to a man who cannot understand them, it is no use uttering the most lovely moral precepts in language that is sure to mislead him. it was in this first necessary step that i hold that we failed, with brilliant individual exceptions no doubt, who, however, only served to make the confusion worse with their gleams of light. narrow-minded enthusiasm, ignorance, and carelessness all contributed their quota to the mischief, and their favourite blunder consisted in jumping at conclusions concerning native character from certain analogies with our own. it did not occur to many of us that actions which marked the presence of certain qualities in the english character, might mark the presence of very different ones in the maori, and _vice versâ_, or that qualities which marked the presence of certain other qualities in the englishman might be very differently accompanied in the native; we did not realize the fact that the maori reflected, argued, and acted in a way that was often as incomprehensible to us as our way was to him. when we observed a band of native converts singing a hymn before advancing to battle we were filled with admiration at their piety, without perceiving that those deeper religious feelings which alone could have produced such a manifestation amongst englishmen were entirely absent.[ ] when christianity spread through the tribes with amazing rapidity, we rejoiced over their capability for accepting the doctrines of high and pure religion, never perceiving that they accepted it simply because they thought from our superiority in ships, arms, tools, and material prosperity in general, that the "mana" (_i.e._, luck, power, prestige) of christianity must be greater than that of their old superstition, and would be quite ready to leave it again when they found out this was a mistake, their minds being as void of the higher religious elements as those of many savages far below them in intellectual powers. when we heard of a native chief supplying his enemy with food or ammunition to enable him to carry on the war we were charmed with his generous chivalry, and immediately endowed him with all the virtues that usually accompany such behaviour in an englishman, blind to the fact that the chief simply liked fighting as we might like eating or sleeping, and furnished his enemy with arms and ammunition just as we might furnish one's cook with money to buy meat with.[ ] [footnote : the maori notion of prayer reaches no higher than the thing we call an incantation. one day i was talking to the old pakeha maori (_i.e._ a white man who lives amongst the maories) on the subject of missionary labour. at last he said, "i'll tell you a story that will establish your name for ever at exeter hall, only you musn't tell it quite the same way that i do. i was here at the time when both the protestant and roman catholic missionaries were first beginning to make their way in the country; and the maories of my tribe used to come to me and ask me which had the greatest 'mana' (_i.e._ fortune, prestige, power, strength)--the protestant god or the romanist one. i was always a good churchman, and used to tell them that the protestant god could lick the other into fits. there was an old irish sailor about five miles from me who used to back up the roman catholic god, but i had a long start of him, and moreover _was the best fighting man_ of the two, which went a long way. in a short time i had about two hundred of the most muscular, blood-thirsty, hard-fighting protestants you could wish to see. "well; it so happened that one day we had a little difference with some of our neighbours, and were drawn up on one side of a gully all ready to charge. i liked the fun of fighting in those days, and was rigged out in nothing but a cartridge-box and belt, with a plume of feathers in my hair, and a young woman to carry my ammunition for me; moreover, i had been put in command of the desperate young bloods of the tribe, and burned to distinguish myself, feeling the commander of the old guard at waterloo quite an insignificant person in regard to myself in point of responsibility and honour. "lying down in the fern, we waited impatiently for the signal to charge; had not we, on the last occasion worth speaking of, outrun our elders, and been nearly decimated in consequence? shall it not be different now? see! there is the great war-chief, the commander of the 'taua,' coming this way (he was a real 'toa' of the old stamp, too seldom found among the degenerate maories of the present day). little cared he for the new faith that had sprung up in the last generation; his skill with the spear, and the incantations of his 'tohungas' (_i.e._ priests or magicians), had kept him safe through many a bitter tussle; his 'mana' was great. straight to me he came and addressed me thus:--'look here, young fellow! i've done the incantations and made it all square with my god; but you say that you've got a god stronger than mine, and a lot of our young fellows go with you; there's nothing like having two gods on our side, so you fellows do the proper business with him, and then we'll fight.' could anything have been more practical and business-like than this? but i was quite stuck up; for though i could have repeated a prayer from the liturgy myself, my worthy converts, who philosophically and rightly looked upon religion merely as a means to an end (_i.e._ killing the greatest possible quantity of enemies), were unable to produce a line of scripture amongst them. "there was an awkward pause; our commander was furious. suddenly one discovers that he has a hymn-book in his pocket. general exultation! 'now!' cries the old chief, foaming at the mouth with excitement, 'go down upon your knees (i know that's the custom with your god) and repeat the charm after him. mind you don't make a mistake, now, for if one word is wrong, the whole thing will be turned topsy-turvy, and we shall be thrashed.' "and then, having repeated one hymn word for word on our knees, i and my converts charged, and walked into the amorites no end; but whether it was the hymn or the fighting that did it is of course an open question to this day."] [footnote : of the maori's passion for fighting for its own sake, with the chivalrous appearance that it somewhat misleadingly bore, i will give an instance. a certain chief had a missionary whom he desired to get rid of. whether he was tired of his sermons, disliked his ritual, or what, i cannot say. however, he forwarded him on to another chief, with his compliments, as a present. chief number two not being in need of a chaplain, having no living vacant, and having perhaps, too, a suspicion that the missionary was unsound in some respect from the careless way he was disposed of, declined him, and returned him untried. chief number one was insulted, and declared that if chief number two had not known his superiority in arms and ammunition, he would not have dared to behave in such manner. when this came to the ears of number two, he divided his arms, &c., into two halves, and sent one to the enemy, with an invitation to war. a distinguished friend of mine in new zealand once asked a maori chief who had fought against us on the waikato, why, when he had command of a certain road, he did not attack the ammunition and provision trains? "why, you fool!" answered the maori, much astonished, "if we had stolen their powder and food, how could they have fought?" sometimes two villages would get up a little war, and the inhabitants, after potting at each other all day, would come out of their "pas" in the evening and talk over their day's sport in the most friendly manner. "i nearly bagged your brother to-day." "ah, but you should have seen how i made your old father-in-law skip!" and so on. after one or two had been really killed, they would become more in earnest. i have heard old archdeacon ----, of tauranga, relate how in one of these petty wars he has known the defenders of a pa send out to their adversaries to say they were short of provisions, who immediately sent them a supply to go on with. also how he has performed service on sunday between two belligerent pas, the inhabitants of which came out to pray, and met with the most perfect amity, returning to their pas when service was over, to recommence hostilities on monday morning. the fact is, that they were, as the pakeha maori says, a race so demoralized by perpetual war that they had got to look instinctively upon fighting as the chief object in life. how difficult it was for the average englishman to see this at first, and how misleading traits such as i have mentioned might be to him, it is not hard to imagine.] by radical misconceptions, such as these, we succeeded in creating in our imaginations an ideal maori about as true to the life as a fenimore cooper indian. and then we proceeded to impress the real maori with moral lessons that he could not understand, and with practical examples that he interpreted all wrong, to appeal to qualities and ideas that he did not possess, and ignore those that he did possess, till in spite of our patience and goodwill we became puzzled by and disgusted with him, and he contemptuous of and utterly bewildered by us. i have heard several comments upon us and our policy from intelligent natives, none of them very flattering to our sagacity or consistency, but i will only give one which struck me as being a most striking comment upon a policy that aimed at conciliation, forbearance, and patient improvement of the maori. "you are a good people, but you have no fixed plan and no understanding either in matters of peace or war. no man can tell when you will fight or when you will give presents to buy peace, or at what sudden moment you will stop doing one and begin the other. no man can tell your reasons nor the meaning of what you do." this man had evidently caught some vague glimmerings of the meaning of our policy which only confused him the more. a little knowledge is a dangerous thing. from the faithful pictures of maori character, ideas, and feelings contained in these two little books, the observant reader will easily perceive how mistakes and misconceptions as to what they were, and might become, and as to how they should be treated, sprang up in the english mind. it is true that the maori question, with all its hopes and fears, has practically come to an end. the bubble of maori civilization has burst, the idea, that seemed at one time not unlikely to become an actual fact, of a native race becoming truly christianized and civilized, and prospering side by side with their white brothers, has gone where many a noble and well-fought-for idea has gone before. the true level of the maori, intellectually and morally, has become tolerably well known; moreover, his numbers are diminishing year by year. but the english nation is, and i hope always will be, in contact with many nations of different blood and various forms and degrees of civilization, and as long as this is the case it cannot be too much impressed upon that extremely powerful and somewhat hasty and headstrong body, the british public, that human nature is not the same all over the world, that one man's meat is another man's poison, that there is no code either of logic or of feeling or of morals universally accepted by humanity, that every difference in custom makes some difference in mind; so that (if that public wishes, as i believe it does, to manage the races with whom england comes in contact, not so much by force as by intelligent and beneficial moral influence) the first thing to be done is to gain an unwarped, accurate, and thorough knowledge of the customs, character, and opinions of the races in question. if these two little books should suggest to any careless englishman that foreigners of dark complexion are not all like either those white men who seem to have got into brown or black skins by mistake, whom one reads about in anti-slavery books and some missionary reports, or those equally tiresome black dummies whom one reads about in another sort of book who have no marked characteristic or intelligible custom except shooting spears and arrows at people for no apparent reason, i shall be glad to have introduced them to an english public; and let me assure those who care more for amusement than instruction that they will be amply repaid by their perusal. i hope the pakeha maori will pardon my impertinence in giving a personal sketch of him to his english readers on the plea that his writing would not be complete without one. he was, i believe, sixty years old when i first saw him, but, in spite of his age, looked the finest man for strength, activity, and grace i had ever seen. six feet three in height and big in proportion, with a symmetry of shape that almost disguised his immense size, i felt i could well understand the stories i had heard of his popularity and his feats amongst the maories, especially when i watched the keen, bright expression of his humorous irish face. in manner and conversation he was the very opposite of what one would expect of a man who had lived since his boyhood among savages. with a real love, and a considerable knowledge of literature, a keen appreciation of all intellectual excellence, and a most delightful humour, i think i never came across so charming a talker as the man whom i may not inaptly christen the "lever" of new zealand. pembroke. preface to the original edition. to the english reader, and to most of those who have arrived in new zealand within the last thirty years, it may be necessary to state that the descriptions of maori life and manners of past times found in these sketches owe nothing to fiction. the different scenes and incidents are given exactly as they occurred, and all the persons described are real persons. contact with the british settlers has of late years effected a marked and rapid change in the manners and mode of life of the natives, and the maori of the present day are as unlike what they were when i first saw them as they are still unlike a civilised people or british subjects. the writer has therefore thought it might be worth while to place a few sketches of old maori life on record before the remembrance of them has quite passed away; though in doing so he has by no means exhausted an interesting subject, and a more full and particular delineation of old maori life, manners, and history has yet to be written. old new zealand; a tale of the good old times. by a pakeha maori. "of anthropophagi, and men whose heads do grow between their shoulders." old new zealand. chapter i. introductory. -- first view of new zealand. -- first sight of the natives, and first sensations experienced by a mere pakeha. -- a maori chief's notions of trading in the old times. -- a dissertation on "courage." -- a few words on dress. -- the chief's soliloquy. -- the maori cry of welcome. ah! those good old times, when first i came to new zealand, we shall never see their like again. since then the world seems to have gone wrong somehow. a dull sort of world this now. the very sun does not seem to me to shine as bright as it used. pigs and potatoes have degenerated; and everything seems "flat, stale, and unprofitable." but those were the times!--the "good old times"--before governors were invented, and law, and justice, and all that. when every one did as he liked,--except when his neighbours would not let him, (the more shame for them,)--when there were no taxes, or duties, or public works, or public to require them. who cared then whether he owned a coat?--or believed in shoes or stockings? the men were bigger and stouter in those days; and the women,--ah! money was useless and might go a begging. a sovereign was of no use except to make a hole in and hang it in a child's ear. the few i brought went that way, and i have seen them swapped for shillings, which were thought more becoming. what cared i? a fish-hook was worth a dozen of them, and i had lots of fish-hooks. little did i think in those days that i should ever see here towns and villages, banks and insurance offices, prime ministers and bishops; and hear sermons preached, and see men hung, and all the other plagues of civilization. i am a melancholy man. i feel somehow as if i had got older. i am no use in these dull times. i mope about in solitary places, exclaiming often, "oh! where are those good old times?" and echo, or some young maori whelp from the three kings, answers from behind a bush,--no hea. i shall not state the year in which i first saw the mountains of new zealand appear above the sea; there is a false suspicion getting about that i am growing old. this must be looked down, so i will at present avoid dates. i always held a theory that time was of no account in new zealand, and i do believe i was right up to the time of the arrival of the first governor. the natives hold this opinion still, especially those who are in debt: so i will just say it was in the good old times, long ago, that, from the deck of a small trading schooner in which i had taken my passage from somewhere, i first cast eyes on maori land. it _was_ maori land then; but alas! what is it now? success to you, o king of waikato. may your _mana_ never be less!--long may you hold at bay the demon of civilization, though fall at last i fear you must. plutus with golden hoof is trampling on your landmarks. he mocks the war-song; but should _i_ see your fall, at least one pakeha maori shall raise the _tangi_; and with flint and shell as of old shall the women lament you. let me, however, leave these melancholy thoughts for a time, forget the present, take courage, and talk about the past. i have not got on shore yet; a thing i must accomplish as a necessary preliminary to looking about me, and telling what i saw. i do not understand the pakeha way of beginning a story in the middle; so to start fair, i must fairly get on shore, which, i am surprised to find, was easier to _do_ than to describe. the little schooner neared the land, and as we came closer and closer, i began in a most unaccountable manner to remember all the tales i had ever heard of people being baked in ovens, with cabbage and potato "fixins." i had before this had some considerable experience of "savages," but as they had no regular system of domestic cookery of the nature i have hinted at, and being, as i was in those days, a mere pakeha (a character i have since learned to despise), i felt, to say the least, rather curious as to the then existing demand on shore for butchers' meat. the ship sailed on, and i went below and loaded my pistols; not that i expected at all to conquer the country with them, but somehow because i could not help it. we soon came to anchor in a fine harbour before the house of the very first settler who had ever entered it, and to this time he was the only one. he had, however, a few europeans in his employ; and there was at some forty miles distance a sort of nest of english, irish, scotch, dutch, french, and american runaways from south sea whalers, with whom were also congregated certain other individuals of the pakeha race, whose manner of arrival in the country was not clearly accounted for, and to enquire into which was, as i found afterwards, considered extremely impolite, and a great breach of _bienséance_. they lived in a half savage state, or to speak correctly, in a savage and-a-half state, being greater savages by far than the natives themselves. i must, however, turn back a little, for i perceive i am not on shore yet. the anchoring of a vessel of any size, large or small, in a port of new zealand, in those days, was an event of no small importance; and, accordingly, from the deck we could see the shore crowded by several hundreds of natives, all in a great state of excitement, shouting and running about, many with spears and clubs in their hands, and altogether looking to the inexperienced new-comer very much as if they were speculating on an immediate change of diet. i must say these at least were my impressions on seeing the mass of shouting, gesticulating, tattooed fellows, who were exhibiting before us, and who all seemed to be mad with excitement of some sort or other. shortly after we came to anchor, a boat came off, in which was mr. ----, the settler i have mentioned, and also the principal chief of the tribe of natives inhabiting this part of the country. mr. ---- gave me a hearty welcome to new zealand, and also an invitation to his house, telling me i was welcome to make it my home for any unlimited time, till i had one of my own. the chief also--having made some enquiries first of the captain of the schooner, such as whether i was a _rangatira_, if i had plenty of _taonga_ (goods) on board, and other particulars; and having been answered by the captain in the most satisfactory manner,--came up to me and gave me a most sincere welcome. (i love sincerity.) he would have welcomed me, however, had i been as poor as job, for pakehas were, in those days, at an enormous premium. even job, at the worst (a _pakeha_ job), might be supposed to have an old coat, or a spike nail, or a couple of iron hoops left on hand, and these were "good trade" in the times i speak of; and under a process well understood at the time by my friend the chief, were sure to change hands soon after his becoming aware of their whereabouts. his idea of trade was this:--he took them, and never paid for them till he took something else of greater value, which, whatever it might be, he never paid for till he made a third still heavier haul. he always paid just what he thought fit to give, and when he chose to withdraw his patronage from any pakeha who might be getting too knowing for him, and extend it to some newer arrival, he never paid for the last "lot of trade;" but, to give him his due, he allowed his pakeha friends to make the best bargain they could with the rest of the tribe, with the exception of a few of his nearest relations, over whose interests he would watch. so, after all, the pakeha would make a living; but i have never heard of one of the old traders who got rich by trading with the natives: there were too many drawbacks of the nature i have mentioned, as well as others unnecessary to mention just yet, which prevented it. i positively vow and protest to you, gentle and patient reader, that if ever i get safe on shore, i will do my best to give you satisfaction; let me get once on shore, and i am all right: but unless i get my feet on _terrâ firmâ_, how can i ever begin my tale of the good old times? as long as i am on board ship i am cramped and crippled, and a mere slave to greenwich time, and can't get on. some people, i am aware, would make a dash at it, and manage the thing without the aid of boat, canoe, or life preserver; but such people are, for the most part, dealers in fiction, which i am not: my story is a true story, not "founded on fact," but fact itself, and so i cannot manage to get on shore a moment sooner than circumstances will permit. it may be that i ought to have landed before this; but i must confess i don't know any more about the right way to tell a story, than a native minister knows how to "come" a war dance. i declare the mention of the war dance calls up a host of reminiscences, pleasurable and painful, exhilarating and depressing, in such a way as no one but a few, a very few, pakeha maori, can understand. thunder!--but no; let me get ashore; how can i dance on the water, or before i ever knew how? on shore i will get this time, i am determined, in spite of fate--so now for it. the boat of my friend mr. ---- being about to return to the shore, leaving the chief and mr. ---- on board, and i seeing the thing had to be done, plucked up courage, and having secretly felt the priming of my pistols under my coat, got into the boat. i must here correct myself. i have said, "plucked up courage," but that is not exactly my meaning. the fact is, kind reader, if you have followed me thus far, you are about to be rewarded for your perseverance. i am determined to make you as wise as i am myself on at least one important subject, and that is not saying a little, let me inform you, as i can hardly suppose you have made the discovery for yourself on so short an acquaintance. falstaff, who was a very clever fellow, and whose word cannot be doubted, says--"the better part of valour is discretion." now, that being the case, what in the name of achilles, hector, and colonel gold (_he_, i mean _achilles_, was a rank coward, who went about knocking people on the head, being himself next thing to invulnerable, and who could not be hurt till he turned his back to the enemy. there is a deep moral in this same story about achilles which perhaps, by and bye, i may explain to you)--what, i say again, in the name of everything valorous, can the worser part of valour be, if "discretion" be the better? the fact is, my dear sir, i don't believe in courage at all, nor ever did; but there is something far better, which has carried me through many serious scrapes with _éclât_ and safety; i mean the appearance of courage. if you have this you may drive the world before you. as for real courage, i do not believe there can be any such thing. a man who sees himself in danger of being killed by his enemy and is not in a precious fright, is simply not courageous but mad. the man who is not frightened because he cannot see the danger, is a person of weak mind--a fool--who ought to be locked up lest he walk into a well with eyes open; but the appearance of courage, or rather, as i deny the existence of the thing itself, that appearance which is thought to be courage, that is the thing will carry you through!--get you made k.c.b., victoria cross, and all that! men by help of this quality do the most heroic actions, being all the time ready to die of mere fright, but keeping up a good countenance all the time. here is the secret--pay attention, it is worth much money--if ever you get into any desperate battle or skirmish, and feel in such a state of mortal fear that you almost wish to be shot to get rid of it, just say to yourself--"if i am so preciously frightened, what must the other fellow be?" the thought will refresh you; your own self-esteem will answer that of course the enemy is more frightened than you are, consequently, the nearer you feel to running away the more reason you have to stand. look at the last gazette of the last victory, where thousands of men at one shilling _per diem_, minus certain very serious deductions, "covered themselves with glory." the thing is clear: the other fellows ran first, and that is all about it! my secret is a very good secret; but one must of course do the thing properly; no matter of what kind the danger is, you must look it boldly in the face and keep your wits about you, and the more frightened you get the more determined you must be--to keep up appearances--and half the danger is gone at once. so now, having corrected myself, as well as given some valuable advice, i shall start again for the shore by saying that i plucked up a very good appearance of courage and got on board the boat. for the honour and glory of the british nation, of which i considered myself in some degree a representative on this momentous occasion, i had dressed myself in one of my best suits. my frock coat was, i fancy, "the thing;" my waistcoat was the result of much and deep thought, in cut, colour, and material--i may venture to affirm that the like had not been often seen in the southern hemisphere. my tailor has, as i hear, long since realized a fortune and retired, in consequence of the enlightenment he at different times received from me on the great principles of, not clothing, but embellishing the human subject. my hat looked down criticism, and my whole turn-out such as i calculated would "astonish the natives," and cause awe and respect for myself individually and the british nation in general, of whom i thought fit to consider myself no bad sample. here i will take occasion to remark that some attention to ornament and elegance in the matter of dress is not only allowable but commendable. man is the only beast to whom a discretionary power has been left in this respect: why then should he not take a hint from nature, and endeavour to beautify his person? peacocks and birds of paradise could no doubt live and get fat though all their feathers were the colour of a quaker's leggings, but see how they are ornamented! nature has, one would say, exhausted herself in beautifying them. look at the tiger and leopard! could not they murder without their stripes and spots?--but see how their coats are painted! look at the flowers--at the whole universe--and you will see everywhere the ornamental combined with the useful. look, then, to the cut and colour of your coat, and do not laugh at the maori of past times, who, not being "seized" of a coat because he has never been able to seize one, carves and tattoos legs, arms, and face. the boat is, however, darting towards the shore, rapidly propelled by four stout natives. my friend ---- and the chief are on board. the chief has got his eye on my double gun, which is hanging up in the cabin. he takes it down and examines it closely. he is a good judge of a gun. it is the best _tupara_ he has ever seen, and his speculations run something very like this:--"a good gun, a first-rate gun; i must have this; i must _tapu_ it before i leave the ship [here he pulls a piece of the fringe from his cloak and ties it round the stock of the gun, thereby rendering it impossible for me to sell, give away, or dispose of it in any way to anyone but himself]; i wonder what the pakeha will want for it! i will promise him as much flax or as many pigs as ever he likes for it. true, i have no flax just now, and am short of pigs, they were almost all killed at the last _hahunga_; but if he is in a hurry he can buy the flax or pigs from the people, which ought to satisfy him. perhaps he would take a piece of land!--that would be famous. i would give him a piece quite close to the _kainga_, where i would always have him close to me; i hope he may take the land; then i should have two pakehas, him and ----. all the inland chiefs would envy me. this ---- is getting too knowing; he has taken to hiding his best goods of late, and selling them before i knew he had them. it's just the same as thieving, and i won't stand it. he sold three muskets the other day to the ngatiwaki, and i did not know he had them, or i should have taken them. i could have paid for them some time or another. it was wrong, wrong, very wrong, to let that tribe have those muskets. he is not their pakeha; let them look for a pakeha for themselves. those ngatiwaki are getting too many muskets--those three make sixty-four they have got besides two _tupara_. certainly we have a great many more, and the ngatiwaki are our relations, but then there was kohu, we killed, and patu, we stole his wife. there is no saying what these ngatiwaki may do if they should get plenty of muskets; they are game enough for anything. it was wrong to give them those muskets; wrong, wrong, wrong!" after-experience enabled me to tell just what the chief's soliloquy was, as above. but all this time the boat is darting to the shore, and as the distance is only a couple of hundred yards, i can hardly understand how it is that i have not yet landed. the crew are pulling like mad, being impatient to show the tribe the prize they have made,--a regular _pakeha rangatira_ as well as a _rangatira pakeha_ (two very different things), who has lots of tomahawks, and fish-hooks, and blankets, and a _tupara_, and is even suspected to be the owner of a great many "pots" of gunpowder! "he is going to stop with the tribe, he is going to trade, he is going to be a pakeha _for us_." these last conclusions were, however, jumped at, the "pakeha" not having then any notions of trade or commerce, and being only inclined to look about and amuse himself. the boat nears the shore, and now arises from a hundred voices the call of welcome,--"_haere mai! haere mai! hoe mai! hoe mai! haere mai, e-te-pa-ke-ha, haere mai!_" mats, hands, and certain ragged petticoats put into requisition for that occasion, all at the same time waving in the air in sign of welcome. then a pause. then, as the boat came nearer, another burst of _haere mai!_ but unaccustomed as i was then to the maori salute, i disliked the sound. there was a wailing melancholy cadence that did not strike me as being the appropriate tone of welcome; and, as i was quite ignorant up to this time of my own importance, wealth, and general value as a pakeha, i began, as the boat closed in with the shore, to ask myself whether possibly this same "_haere mai_" might not be the maori for "dilly, dilly, come and be killed." there was, however, no help for it now; we were close to the shore, and so, putting on the most unconcerned countenance possible, i prepared to make my _entrée_ into maori land in a proper and dignified manner. chapter ii. the market price of a pakeha. -- the value of a pakeha "as such." -- maori hospitality in the good old times. -- a respectable friend. -- maori mermaids. -- my notions of the value of gold. -- how i got on shore. here i must remark that in those days the value of a pakeha to a tribe was enormous. for want of pakehas to trade with, and from whom to procure gunpowder and muskets, many tribes or sections of tribes were about this time exterminated or nearly so by their more fortunate neighbours who got pakehas before them, and who consequently became armed with muskets first. a pakeha trader was therefore of a value say about twenty times his own weight in muskets. this, according to my notes made at the time, i find to have represented a value in new zealand something about what we mean in england when we talk of the sum total of the national debt. a book-keeper, or a second-rate pakeha, not a trader, might be valued at say his weight in tomahawks; an enormous sum also. the poorest labouring pakeha, though he might have no property, would earn something--his value to the chief and tribe with whom he lived might be estimated at say his weight in fish-hooks, or about a hundred thousand pounds or so; value estimated by eagerness to obtain the article. the value of a musket was not to be estimated to a native by just what he gave for it; he gave all he had, or could procure, and had he ten times as much to give he would have given it, if necessary, or if not, he would buy ten muskets instead of one. muskets! muskets! muskets! nothing but muskets, was the first demand of the maori; muskets and gunpowder at any cost. i do not, however, mean to affirm that pakehas were at this time valued "as such,"--like mr. pickwick's silk stockings, which were very good and valuable stockings, "as stockings"--not at all. a loose, straggling pakeha--a runaway from a ship for instance,--who had nothing, and was never likely to have anything, a vagrant straggler passing from place to place,--was not of much account even in those times. two men of this description (runaway sailors) were hospitably entertained one night by a chief, a very particular friend of mine, who, to pay himself for his trouble and outlay, eat one of them next morning. remember, my good reader, i don't deal in fiction; my friend eat the pakeha sure enough, and killed him before he eat him, which was civil, for it was not always done. but then, certainly, the pakeha was a _tutua_, a nobody, a fellow not worth a spike nail; no one knew him; he had no relations, no goods, no expectations, no anything: what could be made of him? of what use on earth was he except to eat? and, indeed, not much good even for that--they say he was not good meat. but good well-to-do pakehas, traders, ship captains, labourers, or employers of labour, these were to be honoured, cherished, caressed, protected, and plucked. plucked judiciously, (the maori is a clever fellow in his way,) so that the feathers might grow again. but as for poor, mean, mere, _pakeha tutua,--e aha te pai?_ before going any farther i beg to state that i hope the english reader or the new-comer, who does not understand maori morality--especially of the glorious old time--will not form a bad opinion of my friend's character, merely because he eat a good-for-nothing sort of pakeha, who really was good for nothing else. people from the old countries i have often observed to have a kind of over-delicacy about them, the result of a too effeminate course of life and over-civilization, which is the cause that, often starting from premises which are true enough, they will, being carried away by their over-sensitive constitution or sickly nervous system, jump at once, without any just process of reasoning, to the most erroneous conclusions. i know as well as can be that some of this description of my readers will at once, without reflection, set my friend down as a very rude, ill-mannered sort of person. nothing of the kind, i assure you, miss. you never made a greater mistake in your life. my friend was a highly respectable person in his way; he was a great friend and protector of rich, well-to-do pakehas; he was, moreover, a great warrior, and had killed the first man in several different battles. he always wore, hanging round his neck, a handsome carved flute, (this at least showed a soft and musical turn of mind,) which was made of the thigh-bone of one of his enemies; and when heke, the ngapuhi, made war against us, my friend came to the rescue, fought manfully for his pakeha friends, and was desperately wounded in so doing. now can any one imagine a more respectable character?--a warrior, a musician, a friend in need, who would stand by you while he had a leg to stand on, and would not eat a _friend_ on any account whatever, except he should be very hungry. the boat darts on; she touches the edge of a steep rock; the "_haere mai_" has subsided; six or seven "personages"--the magnates of the tribe--come gravely to the front to meet me as i land. there is about six or seven yards of shallow water to be crossed between the boat and where they stand. a stout fellow rushes to the boat's nose, and "shows a back," as we used to say at leap-frog. he is a young fellow of respectable standing in the tribe, a far-off cousin of the chief's, a warrior, and as such has no back; that is to say, to carry loads of fuel or potatoes. he is too good a man to be spoiled in that way; the women must carry for him; the able-bodied men of the tribe must be saved for its protection; but he is ready to carry the pakeha on shore--the _rangatira pakeha_, who wears a real _koti roa_, (a long coat,) and beaver hat! carry! he would lie down and make a bridge of his body, with pleasure, for him. has he not half a shipful of _taonga_? well, having stepped in as dignified a manner as i knew how, from thwart to thwart, till i came to the bow of the boat, and having tightened on my hat and buttoned up my coat, i fairly mounted on the broad shoulders of my aboriginal friend. i felt at the time that the thing was a sort of failure--a come down; the position was not graceful, or in any way likely to suggest ideas of respect or awe, with my legs projecting a yard or so from under each arm of my bearer, holding on to his shoulders in the most painful, cramped, and awkward manner. to be sacked on shore thus, and delivered like a bag of goods thus, into the hands of the assembled multitude, did not strike me as a good first appearance on this stage. but little, indeed, can we tell in this world what one second may produce. gentle reader, fair reader, patient reader! the fates have decreed it; the fiat has gone forth; on that man's back i shall never land in new zealand. manifold are the doubts and fears which have yet to shake and agitate the hearts and minds of all my friends as to whether i shall ever land at all, or ever again feel _terrâ firmâ_ touch my longing foot. my bearer made one step; the rock is slippery; backwards he goes; back, back! the steep is near--is passed! down, down, we go! backwards and headlong to the depths below! the ebb tide is running like a sluice; in an instant we are forty yards off, and a fathom below the surface; ten more fathoms are beneath us. the heels of my boots, my polished boots, point to the upper air--ay, point; but when, oh, when again, shall i salute thee, gentle air; when again, unchoked by the saline flood, cry _veni aura_? when, indeed! for now i am wrong end uppermost, drifting away with the tide, and ballasted with heavy pistols, boots, tight clothes, and all the straps and strings of civilization. oh, heavens! and oh earth! and oh ye little thieves of fishes who manage to live in the waters under the earth (a miserable sort of life you must have of it!) oh maori sea nymphs! who, with yellow hair--yellow? egad--that's odd enough, to say the least of it; however the maori should come to give their sea nymphs or spirits yellow hair is curious. the maori know nothing about yellow hair; their hair is black. about one in a hundred of them have a sort of dirty-brown hair; but even if there should be now and then a native with yellow hair, how is it that they have come to give this colour to the sea-sprites in particular?--who also "dance on the sands, and yet no footstep seen." now i confess i am rather puzzled and struck by the coincidence. i don't believe shakespeare ever was in new zealand; jason might, being a seafaring-man, and if he should have called in for wood and water, and happened to have the golden fleece by any accident on board, and by any chance put it on for a wig, why the thing would be accounted for at once. the world is mad now-a-days about gold, so no one cares a fig about what is called "golden hair;" nuggets and dust have the preference; but this is a grand mistake. gold is no use, or very little, except in so far as this--that through the foolishness of human beings, one can purchase the necessaries and conveniences of life with it. now, this being the case, if i have a chest full of gold (which i have not), i am no richer for it in fact until i have given it away in exchange for necessaries, comforts, and luxuries, which are, properly speaking, riches or wealth; but it follows from this, that he who has given me this same riches or wealth for my gold, has become poor, and his only chance to set himself up again is to get rid of the gold as fast as he can, in exchange for the same sort and quantity of things, if he can get them, which is always doubtful. but here lies the gist of the matter--how did i, in the first instance, become possessed of my gold? if i bought it, and gave real wealth for it, beef, mutton, silk, tea, sugar, tobacco, ostrich feathers, leather breeches, and crinoline,--why, then, all i have done in parting with my gold, is merely to get them back again, and i am, consequently, no richer by the transaction; but if i steal my gold, then i am a clear gainer of the whole lot of valuables above mentioned. so, upon the whole, i don't see much use in getting gold honestly, and one must not steal it: digging it certainly is almost as good as stealing, if it is not too deep, which fully accounts for so many employing themselves in this way; but then the same amount of labour would raise no end of wheat and potatoes, beef and mutton: and all farmers, mathematicians, and algebraists will agree with me in this--that after any country is fully cultivated, all the gold in the world won't force it to grow one extra turnip, and what more can any one desire? so now adam smith, mcculloch, and all the rest of them may go and be hanged. the whole upshot of this treatise on political economy and golden hair, (which i humbly lay at the feet of the colonial treasurer,) is this:--i would not give one of your golden locks, my dear, for all the gold, silver, pearls, diamonds, _mere ponamus_--stop, let me think,--a good _mere ponamu_ would be a temptation. i had once a _mere_, a present from a maori friend, the most beautiful thing of the kind ever seen. it was nearly as transparent as glass; in it there were beautiful marks like fern leaves, trees, fishes, and--i would not give much for a person who could not see almost _anything_ in it. never shall i cease to regret having parted with it. the emperor of brazil, i think, has it now; but he does not know the proper use of it. it went to the minister many years ago. i did not sell it. i would have scorned to do that; but i did expect to be made knight of the golden pig knife, or elephant and watch box, or something of that nature: but here i am still, a mere pakeha maori, and, as i recollect, in desperate danger of being drowned. up we came at last, blowing and puffing like grampuses. with a glance i "recognised the situation:"--we had drifted a long way from the landing place. my hat was dashing away before the land breeze towards the sea and had already made a good "offing." three of the boat's-crew had jumped over-board, had passed us a long distance, and were seemingly bound after the hat; the fourth man was pulling madly with one oar, and consequently making great progress in no very particular direction. the whole tribe of natives had followed our drift along the shore, shouting and gesticulating, and some were launching a large canoe, evidently bent on saving the _hat_, on which all eyes were turned. as for the pakeha, it appears they must have thought it an insult to his understanding to suppose he could be drowned anywhere in sight of land. "'did he not come from the sea?' was he not a fish? was not the sea solid land to him? did not his fire burn on the ocean? had he not slept on the crests of the waves?" all this i heard afterwards; but at the time had i not been as much at home in the water as anything not amphibious could be, i should have been very little better than a gone pakeha. here was a pretty wind up! i was going to "astonish the natives," was i?--with my black hat and my _koti roa_? but the villain is within a yard of me--the rascally cause of all my grief. the furies take possession of me! i dart upon him like a hungry shark! i have him! i have him under! down, villain! down to the kraken and the whale, to the taniwha cave!--down! down! down! as we sank i heard one grand roar of wild laughter from the shore--the word _utu_ i heard roared by many voices, but did not then know its import. the pakeha was drowning the maori for _utu_ for himself, in _case_ he should be drowned. no matter, if the maori can't hold his own, it's fair play; and then, if the pakeha really does drown the maori, has he not lots of _taonga_ to be robbed of?--no, not exactly to be robbed of, either; let us not use unnecessarily bad language--we will say to be distrained upon. crack! what do i hear? down in the deep i felt a shock, and actually heard a sudden noise. is it the "crack of doom?" no, it is my frock-coat gone at one split "from clue to earing"--split down the back. oh if my pistols would go off, a fiery and watery death shouldst thou die, caliban. egad! they have gone off--they are both gone to the bottom! my boots are getting heavy! humane society, ahoy! where is your boat-hook?--where is your bellows? humane society, ahoy! we are now drifting fast by a sandy point, after which there will be no chance of landing--the tide will take us right out to sea. my friend is very hard to drown--must finish him some other time. we both swim for the point, and land; and this is how i got ashore on maori land. chapter iii. a wrestling match. -- beef against melons. -- the victor gains a loss. -- "our chief." -- his speech. -- his _status_ in the tribe. -- death of "melons." -- rumours of peace and war. -- getting the pa in fighting order. -- my friend the "relation eater." -- expectation and preparation. -- arrival of doubtful friends. -- sham fight. -- the "taki." -- the war dance. -- another example of maori hospitality. -- crocodile's tears. -- loose notions about heads. -- tears of blood. -- brotherly love. -- capital felony. -- peace. something between a cheer, a scream, and a roar, greet our arrival on the sand. an english voice salutes me with "well, you served that fellow out." one half of my coat hangs from my right elbow, the other from my left; a small shred of the collar is still around my neck. my hat, alas! my hat is gone. i am surrounded by a dense mob of natives, laughing, shouting, and gesticulating in the most grotesque manner. three englishmen are also in the crowd--they seem greatly amused at something, and offer repeated welcomes. at this moment up comes my salt-water acquaintance, elbowing his way through the crowd; there is a strange serio-comic expression of anger in his face; he stoops, makes horrid grimaces, quivering at the same time his left hand and arm about in a most extraordinary manner, and striking the thick part of his left arm with the palm of his right hand. "_hu!_" says he, "_hu! hu!_" "what _can_ he mean?" said i. "he is challenging you to wrestle," cried one of the englishmen; "he wants _utu_." "what is _utu_?" said i. "payment." "i won't pay him." "oh, that's not it, he wants to take it out of you wrestling." "oh, i see; here's at him; pull off my coat and boots; i'll wrestle him; his foot is in his own country, and his name is--what?" "sir, his name in english means 'an eater of melons;' he is a good wrestler; you must mind." "_water_-melons, i suppose; beef against melons for ever, hurrah! here's at him." here the natives began to run between us to separate us, but seeing that i was in the humour to "have it out," and that neither self or friend were actually out of temper, and no doubt expecting to see the pakeha floored, they stood to one side and made a ring. a wrestler soon recognises another, and my friend soon gave me some hints that showed me i had some work before me. i was a youngster in those days, all bone and sinew, full of animal spirits, and as tough as leather. a couple of desperate main strength efforts soon convinced us both that science or endurance must decide the contest. my antagonist was a strapping fellow of about five-and-twenty, tremendously strong, and much heavier than me. i, however, in those days actually could not be fatigued; i did not know the sensation, and could run from morning till night. i therefore trusted to wearing him out, and avoiding his _ta_ and _wiri_. all this time the mob were shouting encouragement to one or other of us. such a row never was seen. i soon perceived i had a "party." "well done, pakeha!" "now for it, melons!" "at him again!" "take care, the pakeha is a _taniwha_; the pakeha is a _tino tangata_!" "hooray!" (from the british element). "the pakeha is down!" "no he isn't!" (from english side). here i saw my friend's knees beginning to tremble. i made a great effort, administered my favourite remedy, and there lay the "eater of melons" prone upon the sand. i stood a victor; and like many other conquerors, a very great loser. there i stood, _minus_ hat, coat, and pistols, wet and mauled, and transformed very considerably for the worse since i left the ship. when my antagonist fell, the natives gave a great shout of triumph, and congratulated me in their own way with the greatest goodwill. i could see i had got their good opinion, though i scarcely could understand how. after sitting on the sand some time my friend arose, and with a very graceful movement, and a smile of good nature on his dusky countenance, he held out his hand and said in english, "how do you do?" i was much pleased at this; the natives had given me fair play, and my antagonist, though defeated both by sea and land, offered me his hand, and welcomed me to the shore with his whole stock of english--"how do you do?" but the row is not half over yet. here comes the chief in the ship's boat. the other is miles off with its one man crew still pulling no one knows, or at all cares, where. some one has been off in a canoe and told the chief that "melons" and the "new pakeha" were fighting like mad on the beach. here he comes, flourishing his _mere ponamu_. he is a tall, stout fellow, in the prime of life, black with tattooing, and splendidly dressed, according to the splendour of those days. he has on a very good blue jacket, no shirt or waistcoat, a pair of duck trousers, and a red sash round his waist; no hat or shoes, these being as yet things beyond a chief's ambition. the jacket was the only one in the tribe; and amongst the surrounding company i saw only one other pair of trousers, and it had a large hole at each knee, but this was not considered to detract at all from its value. the chief jumps ashore; he begins his oration, or rather to "blow up" all and sundry the tribe in general, and poor "melons" in particular. he is really vexed, and wishes to appear to me more vexed than he really is. he runs, gesticulating and flourishing his _mere_, about ten steps in one direction, in the course of which ten steps he delivers a sentence; he then turns and runs back the same distance, giving vent to his wrath in another sentence, and so back and forward, forward and back, till he has exhausted the subject and tired his legs. the englishmen were beside me and gave a running translation of what he said. "pretty work this," he began, "_good_ work; killing my pakeha; look at him! (here a flourish in my direction with the _mere_.) i won't stand this; not at all! not at all! not at all! (the last sentence took three jumps, a step, and a turn-round, to keep correct time.) who killed the pakeha? it was melons. you are a nice man, are you not? (this with a sneer.) killing my pakeha! (in a voice like thunder, and rushing savagely, _mere_ in hand, at poor melons, but turning exactly at the end of the ten steps and coming back again.) it will be heard of all over the country; we shall be called the 'pakeha killers;' i shall be sick with shame; the pakeha will run away, and take all his _taonga_ along with him. what if you had killed him dead, or broken his bones? his relations would be coming across the sea for _utu_. (great sensation, and i try to look as though i would say 'of course they would.') what did i build this pa close to the sea for?--was it not to trade with the pakehas?--and here you are killing the second that has come to stop with me. (here poor melons burst out crying like an infant.) where is the hat?--where the _koti roa_?--where the shoes?--(boots were shoes in those days.) the pakeha is robbed; he is murdered! (here a howl from melons, and i go over and sit down by him, clap him on the bare back, and shake his hand.) look at that--the pakeha does not bear malice; i would kill you if he asked me; you are a bad people, killers of pakehas; be off with you, the whole of you, away!" this command was instantly obeyed by all the women, boys, and slaves. melons also, being in disgrace, disappeared; but i observed that "the whole of you" did not seem to be understood as including the stout, able-bodied, tattooed part of the population, the strength of the tribe--the warriors, in fact, many of whom counted themselves to be very much about as good as the chief. they were his nearest relations, without whose support he could do nothing, and were entirely beyond his control. i found afterwards that it was only during actual war that this chief was perfectly absolute, which arose from the confidence the tribe had in him, both as a general and a fighting man, and the obvious necessity that in war implicit obedience be given to one head. i have, however, observed in other tribes, that in war they would elect a chief for the occasion, a war chief, and have been surprised to see the obedience they gave him, even when his conduct was very open to criticism. i say with surprise, for the natives are so self-possessed, opinionated, and republican, that the chiefs have at ordinary times but little control over them, except in very rare cases, where the chief happens to possess a singular vigour of character, or some other unusual advantage, to enable him to keep them under. i will mention here that my first antagonist, "the eater of melons," became a great friend of mine. he was my right-hand man and manager when i set up house on my own account, and did me many friendly services in the course of my acquaintance with him. he came to an unfortunate end some years later. the tribe were getting ready for a war expedition; poor melons was filling cartridges from a fifty-pound barrel of gunpowder, pouring the gunpowder into the cartridges with his hand, and smoking his pipe at the time, as i have seen the natives doing fifty times since. a spark fell into the cask, and it is scarcely necessary to say that my poor friend was roasted alive in a second. i have known three other accidents of the same kind, from smoking whilst filling cartridges. in one of these accidents three lives were lost, and many injured; and i really do believe that the certainty of death will not prevent some of the natives from smoking for more than a given time. i have often seen infants refuse the mother's breast, and cry for the pipe till it was given them; and dying natives often ask for a pipe, and die smoking. i can clearly perceive that the young men of the present day are neither so tall, or stout, or strong as men of the same age were when i first came to the country; and i believe that this smoking from their infancy is one of the chief causes of this decrease in strength and stature. i am landed at last, certainly; but i am tattered and wet, and in a most deplorable plight: so to make my story short, for i see, if i am too particular, i shall never come to the end of it, i returned to the ship, put myself to rights, and came on shore next day with all my _taonga_, to the great delight of the chief and tribe. my hospitable entertainer, mr. ----, found room for my possessions in his store, and a room for myself in his house; and so now i am fairly housed we shall see what will come of it. i have now all new zealand before me to caper about in; so i shall do as i like, and please myself. i shall keep to neither rule, rhyme, or reason, but just write what comes uppermost to my recollection of the good old days. many matters which seemed odd enough to me at first, have long appeared such mere matters of course, that i am likely to pass them over without notice. i shall, however, give some of the more striking features of those delectable days, now, alas! passed and gone. some short time after this, news came that a grand war expedition, which had been absent nearly two years at the south, had returned. this party were about a thousand strong, being composed of two parties of about five hundred men each, from two different tribes, who had joined their force for the purpose of the expedition. the tribe with which mr. ---- and myself were staying, had not sent any men on this war party; but, i suppose to keep their hands in, had attacked one of the two tribes who had, and who were, consequently, much weakened by the absence of so many of their best men. it, however, turned out that after a battle--the ferocity of which has seldom been equalled in any country but this--our friends were defeated with a dreadful loss, having inflicted almost as great on the enemy. peace, however, had afterwards been formally made; but, nevertheless, the news of the return of this expedition was not heard without causing a sensation almost amounting to consternation. the war chief of the party who had been attacked by our friends during his absence, was now, with all his men, within an easy day's march. his road lay right through our village, and it was much to be doubted that he would keep the peace, being one of the most noted war chiefs of new zealand, and he and his men returning from a successful expedition. all now was uproar and confusion; messengers were running like mad, in all directions, to call in stragglers; the women were carrying fuel and provisions into the pa or fortress of the tribe. this pa was a very well built and strong stockade, composed of three lines of strong fence and ditch, very ingeniously and artificially planned; and, indeed, as good a defence as well could be imagined against an enemy armed only with musketry. all the men were now working like furies, putting this fort to rights, getting it into fighting order, mending the fences, clearing out the ditches, knocking down houses inside the place, clearing away brushwood and fern all around the outside within musket shot. i was in the thick of it, and worked all day lashing the fence; the fence being of course not nailed, but lashed with _toro-toro_, a kind of tough creeping plant, like a small rope, which was very strong and well adapted for the purpose. this lashing was about ten or twelve feet from the ground, and a stage had to be erected for the men to stand on. to accomplish this lashing or fastening of the fence well and with expedition required two men, one inside the fence and another outside; all the men therefore worked in pairs, passing the end of the _toro-toro_ from one to the other through the fence of large upright stakes and round a cross piece which went all along the fence, by which means the whole was connected into one strong wall. i worked away like fury, just as if i had been born and bred a member of the community; and moreover, not being in those days very particularly famous for what is called prudence, i intended also, circumstances permitting, to fight like fury too, just for the fun of the thing. about a hundred men were employed in this part of the work new lashing the pa. my _vis-à-vis_ in the operation was a respectable old warrior of great experience and approved valour, whose name being turned into english meant "the eater of his own relations." (be careful not to read _rations_.) this was quite a different sort of diet from "melons," and he did not bear his name for nothing, as i could tell you if i had time, but i am half mad with haste lashing the pa. i will only say that my comrade was a most bloodthirsty, ferocious, athletic savage, and his character was depicted in every line of his tattooed face. about twenty men had been sent out to watch the approach of the dreaded visitors. the repairing of the stockade went on all one day and all one night by torchlight and by the light of huge fires lit in the inside. no one thought of sleep. dogs barking, men shouting, children crying, women screaming, pigs squealing, muskets firing (to see if they were fit for active service and would go off), and above all the doleful _tetere_ sounding. this was a huge wooden trumpet six feet long, which gave forth a groaning moaning sound, like the voice of a dying wild bull. babel, with a dash of pandemonium, will give a faint idea of the uproar. all preparations having been at last made, and no further tidings of the enemy, as i may call them, i took a complete survey of the fort, my friend the "relation eater" being my companion and explaining to me the design of the whole. i learned something that day; and i, though pretty well "up" in the noble science of fortification, ancient and modern, was obliged to confess to myself that a savage who could neither read or write--who had never heard of cohorn or vauban--and who was moreover avowedly a gobbler up of his own relations, could teach me certain practical "dodges" in the defensive art quite well worth knowing. a long shed of palm leaves had been also built at a safe and convenient distance from the fort. this was for the accommodation of the expected visitors, supposing they came in peaceful guise. a whole herd of pigs were also collected and tied to stakes driven into the ground in the rear of the fort. these were intended to feast the coming guests, according to their behaviour. towards evening a messenger from a neighbouring friendly tribe arrived to say that next day, about noon, the strangers might be expected; and also that the peace which had been concluded with their tribe during their absence, had been ratified and accepted by them. this was satisfactory intelligence; but, nevertheless, no precaution must be neglected. to be thrown off guard would invite an attack, and ensure destruction; everything must be in order; gun cleaning, flint fixing, cartridge making, was going on in all directions; and the outpost at the edge of the forest was not called in. all was active preparation. the path by which these doubtful friends were coming led through a dense forest and came out on the clear plain about half-a-mile from the pa, which plain continued and extended in every direction around the fortress to about the same distance, so that none could approach unperceived. the outpost of twenty men were stationed at about a couple of hundred yards from the point where the path emerged from the wood; and as the ground sloped considerably from the forest to the fort, the whole intervening space was clearly visible. another night of alarm and sleepless expectation, the melancholy moan of the _tetere_ still continuing to hint to any lurking enemy that we were all wide awake; or rather, i should say, to assure him most positively of it, for who could sleep with that diabolical din in his ears? morning came and an early breakfast was cooked and devoured hurriedly. then groups of the younger men might be seen here and there fully armed, and "getting up steam" by dancing the war dance, in anticipation of the grand dance of the whole warrior force of the tribe, which, as a matter of course, must be performed in honour of the visitors when they arrived. in honour, but quite as much in intimidation, or an endeavour at it, though no one said so. noon arrived at last. anxious glances are turning from all quarters towards the wood, from which a path is plainly seen winding down the sloping ground towards the pa. the outpost is on the alert. straggling scouts are out in every direction. all is expectation. now there is a movement at the outpost. they suddenly spread in an open line, ten yards between each man. one man comes at full speed running towards the pa, jumping and bounding over every impediment. now something moves in the border of the forest,--it is a mass of black heads. now the men are plainly visible. the whole _taua_ has emerged upon the plain. "here they come! here they come!" is heard in all directions. the men of the outpost cross the line of march in pretended resistance; they present their guns, make horrid grimaces, dance about like mad baboons, and then fall back with headlong speed to the next advantageous position for making a stand. the _taua_, however, comes on steadily; they are formed in a solid oblong mass. the chief at the left of the column leads them on. the men are all equipped for immediate action, that is to say, quite naked except their arms and cartridge boxes, which are a warrior's clothes. no one can possibly tell what this peaceful meeting may end in, so all are ready for action at a second's notice. the _taua_ still comes steadily on. as i have said, the men are all stripped for action, but i also notice that the appearance of nakedness is completely taken away by the tattooing, the colour of the skin, and the arms and equipments. the men in fact look much better than when dressed in their maori clothing. every man, almost without exception, is covered with tattooing from the knees to the waist; the face is also covered with dark spiral lines. each man has round his middle a belt, to which is fastened two cartridge boxes, one behind and one before; another belt goes over the right shoulder and under the left arm, and from it hangs, on the left side and rather behind, another cartridge box, and under the waist-belt is thrust, behind, at the small of the back, the short-handled tomahawk for close fight and to finish the wounded. each cartridge box contains eighteen rounds, and every man has a musket. altogether this _taua_ is better and more uniformly armed and equipped than ordinary; but they have been amongst the first who got pakehas to trade with them, and are indeed in consequence the terror of new zealand. on they come, a set of tall, athletic, heavy-made men; they would, i am sure, in the aggregate weigh some tons heavier than the same number of men taken at random from the streets of one of our manufacturing towns. they are now half way across the plain; they keep their formation, a solid oblong, admirably as they advance, but they do not keep step; this causes a very singular appearance at a distance. instead of the regular marching step of civilized soldiers, which may be observed at any distance, this mass seems to progress towards you with the creeping motion of some great reptile at a distance, and when coming down a sloping ground this effect is quite remarkable. the mimic opposition is now discontinued; the outpost rushes in at full speed, the men firing their guns in the air as they run. _takini! takini!_ is the cry, and out spring three young men, the best runners of our tribe, to perform the ceremony of the _taki_. they hold in their hands some reeds to represent darts or _kokiri_. at this moment a tremendous fire of _ball_ cartridge opens from the fort; the balls whistle in every direction, over and around the advancing party, who steadily and gravely come on, not seeming to know that a gun has been fired, though they perfectly well understand that this salute is also a hint of full preparation for any unexpected turn things may take. now, from the whole female population arises the shrill "_haere mai! haere mai!_" mats are waving, guns firing, dogs barking; the chief roaring to "fall in," and form for the war dance. he appears half mad with excitement, anxiety, and something very like apprehension of a sudden onslaught from his friends. in the midst of this horrible uproar off dart three runners. they are not unexpected. three young men of the _taua_ are seen to tighten their waist-belts, and hand their muskets to their comrades. on go the three young men from the fort. they approach the front of the advancing column; they dance and caper about like mad monkeys, twisting their faces about in the most extraordinary manner, showing the whites of their eyes, and lolling out their tongues. at last, after several feints, they boldly advance within twenty yards of the supposed enemy, and send the reed darts flying full in their faces: then they turn and fly as if for life. instantly, from the stranger ranks, three young men dart forth in eager pursuit; and behind them comes the solid column, rushing on at full speed. run now, o "sounding sea," (_tai haruru_) for the "black cloud," (_kapua mangu_) the swiftest of the rarawa, is at your back; run now, for the honour of your tribe and your own name, run! run! it was an exciting scene. the two famous runners came on at a tremendous pace, the dark mass of armed men following close behind at full speed, keeping their formation admirably, the ground shaking under them as they rushed on. on come the two runners (the others are left behind and disregarded). the pursuer gains upon his man; but they are fast nearing the goal, where, according to maori custom, the chase must end. run, "sounding sea;" another effort! your tribe are near in full array, and armed for the war dance; their friendly ranks are your refuge; run! run! on came the headlong race. when within about thirty yards of the place where our tribe was now formed in a solid oblong, each man kneeling on one knee, with musket held in both hands, butt to ground, and somewhat sloped to the front, the pursuing native caught at the shoulder of our man, touched it, but could do no more. here he must stop; to go farther would not be "correct." he will, however, boast everywhere that he has touched the shoulder of the famous "sounding sea." our man has not, however, been caught, which would have been a bad omen. at this moment the charging column comes thundering up to where their man is standing; instantly they all kneel upon one knee, holding their guns sloped before their faces, in the manner already described. the _élite_ of the two tribes are now opposite to each other, all armed, all kneeling, and formed in two solid oblong masses, the narrow end of the oblong to the front. only thirty yards divide them; the front ranks do not gaze on each other; both parties turn their eyes towards the ground, and with heads bent downwards, and a little to one side, appear to listen. all is silence; you might have heard a pin drop. the uproar has turned to a calm; the men are kneeling statues; the chiefs have disappeared; they are in the centre of their tribes. the pakeha is beginning to wonder what will be the end of all this; and also to speculate on the efficacy of the buck shot with which his gun is loaded, and wishes it was ball. two minutes have elapsed in this solemn silence, the more remarkable as being the first quiet two minutes for the last two days and nights. suddenly from the extreme rear of the strangers' column is heard a scream--a horrid yell. a savage, of herculean stature, comes, _mere_ in hand, and rushing madly to the front. he seems hunted by all the furies. bedlam never produced so horrid a visage. thrice, as he advances, he gives that horrid cry; and thrice the armed tribe give answer with a long-drawn gasping sigh. he is at the front; he jumps into the air, shaking his stone weapon; the whites only of his eyes are visible, giving a most hideous appearance to his face; he shouts the first words of the war song, and instantly his tribe spring from the ground. it would be hard to describe the scene which followed. the roaring chorus of the war song; the horrid grimaces; the eyes all white; the tongues hanging out; the furious yet measured and uniform gesticulation, jumping, and stamping. i felt the ground plainly trembling. at last the war dance ended; and then my tribe, (i find i am already beginning to get maorified,) starting from the ground like a single man, endeavoured to outdo even their amiable friends' exhibition. they end; then the new-comers perform another demon dance; then my tribe give another. silence again prevails, and all sit down. immediately a man from the new arrivals comes to the front of his own party; he runs to and fro; he speaks for his tribe; these are his words:--"peace is made! peace is made! peace is firm! peace is secure! peace! peace! peace!" this man is not a person of any particular consequence in his tribe, but his brother was killed by our people in the battle i have mentioned, and this gives him the right to be the first to proclaim peace. his speech is ended and he "falls in." some three or four others "follow on the same side." their speeches are short also, and nearly verbatim what the first was. then who of all the world starts forth from "ours," to speak on the side of "law and order," but my diabolical old acquaintance the "relation eater." i had by this time picked up a little maori, and could partly understand his speech. "welcome! welcome! welcome! peace is made! not till now has there been true peace! i have seen you, and peace is made!" here he broke out into a song, the chorus of which was taken up by hundreds of voices, and when it ended he made a sudden and very expressive gesture of scattering something with his hands, which was a signal to all present that the ceremonial was at an end for the time. our tribe at once disappeared into the pa, and at the same instant the strangers broke into a scattered mob, and made for the long shed which had been prepared for their reception, which was quite large enough, and the floor covered thickly with clean rushes to sleep on. about fifty or sixty then started for the border of the forest to bring their clothes and baggage, which had been left there as incumbrances to the movements of the performers in the ceremonials i have described. part, however, of the "_impedimenta_" had already arrived on the backs of about thirty boys, women, and old slaves; and i noticed amongst other things some casks of cartridges, which were, as i thought, rather ostentatiously exposed to view. i soon found the reason my friend of saturnine propensities had closed proceedings so abruptly was, that the tribe had many pressing duties of hospitality to fulfil, and that the heavy talking was to commence next day. i noticed also that to this time there had been no meeting of the chiefs, and, moreover, that the two parties had kept strictly separate--the nearest they had been to each other was thirty yards when the war dancing was going on, and they seemed quite glad, when the short speeches were over, to move off to a greater distance from each other. soon after the dispersion of the two parties, a firing of muskets was heard in and at the rear of the fort, accompanied by the squeaking, squealing, and dying groans of a whole herd of pigs. directly afterwards a mob of fellows were seen staggering under the weight of the dead pigs, and proceeding to the long shed already mentioned, in front of which they were flung down, _sans-ceremonie_, and without a word spoken. i counted sixty-nine large fat pigs flung in one heap, one on the top of the other, before that part of the shed where the principal chief was sitting; twelve were thrown before the interesting savage who had "started" the war dance; and several single porkers were thrown without any remark before certain others of the guests. the parties, however, to whom this compliment was paid sat quietly saying nothing, and hardly appearing to see what was done. behind the pigs was placed, by the active exertion of two or three hundred people, a heap of potatoes and _kumera_, in quantity about ten tons, so there was no want of the raw material for a feast. the pigs and potatoes having been deposited, a train of women appeared--the whole, indeed, of the young and middle-aged women of the tribe. they advanced with a half-dancing half-hopping sort of step, to the time of a wild but not unmusical chant, each woman holding high in both hands a smoking dish of some kind or other of maori delicacy, hot from the oven. the groundwork of this feast appeared to be sweet potatoes and _taro_, but on the top of each smoking mess was placed either dried shark, eels, mullet, or pork, all "piping hot." this treat was intended to stay our guests' stomachs till they could find time to cook for themselves. the women having placed the dishes, or to speak more correctly, baskets, on the ground before the shed, disappeared; and in a miraculously short time the feast disappeared also, as was proved by seeing the baskets flung in twos, threes, and tens, empty out of the shed. next day, pretty early in the morning, i saw our chief (as i must call him for distinction) with a few of the principal men of the tribe, dressed in their best maori costume, taking their way towards the shed of the visitors. when they got pretty near, a cry of _haere mai!_ hailed them. they went on gravely, and observing where the principal chief was seated, our chief advanced towards him, fell upon his neck embracing him in the most affectionate manner, commenced a _tangi_, or melancholy sort of ditty, which lasted a full half hour, and during which, both parties, as in duty bound and in compliance with custom, shed floods of tears. how they managed to do it is more than i can tell to this day, except that i suppose you may train a man to do anything. right well do i know that either party would have almost given his life for a chance to exterminate the other with all his tribe; and twenty-seven years afterwards i saw the two tribes fighting in the very quarrel which was pretended to have been made up that day. before this, however, both these chiefs were dead, and others reigned in their stead. while the _tangi_ was going on between the two principals, the companions of our chief each selected one of the visitors, and rushing into his arms, went through a similar scene. old "relation eater" singled out the horrific savage who had began the war dance, and these two tender-hearted individuals did, for a full half hour, seated on the ground, hanging on each other's necks, give vent to such a chorus of skilfully modulated howling as would have given momus the blue devils to listen to. after the _tangi_ was ended, the two tribes seated themselves in a large irregular circle on the plain, and into this circle strode an orator, who, having said his say, was followed by another, and so the greater part of the day was consumed. no arms were to be seen in the hands of either party, except the greenstone _mere_ of the principal chiefs; but i took notice that about thirty of our people never left the nearest gate of the pa, and that their loaded muskets, although out of sight, were close at hand, standing against the fence inside the gate, and i also perceived that under their cloaks or mats they wore their cartridge boxes and tomahawks. this caused me to observe the other party more closely. they also, i perceived, had some forty men sleeping in the shed; these fellows had not removed their cartridge boxes either, and all their companions' arms were carefully ranged behind them in a row, six or seven deep, against the back wall of the shed. the speeches of the orators were not very interesting, so i took a stroll to a little rising ground at about a hundred yards distance, where a company of natives, better dressed than common, were seated. they had the best sort of ornamented cloaks, and had feathers in their heads, which i already knew "commoners" could not afford to wear, as they were only to be procured some hundreds of miles to the south. i therefore concluded these were magnates or "personages" of some kind or other, and determined to introduce myself. as i approached, one of these splendid individuals nodded to me in a very familiar sort of manner, and i, not to appear rude, returned the salute. i stepped into the circle formed by my new friends, and had just commenced a _tena koutou_, when a breeze of wind came sighing along the hill-top. my friend nodded again,--his cloak blew to one side. what do i see?--or rather what do i not see? _the head has no body under it!_ the heads had all been stuck on slender rods, a cross stick tied on to represent the shoulders, and the cloaks thrown over all in such a natural manner as to deceive anyone at a short distance, but a green pakeha, who was not expecting any such matter, to a certainty. i fell back a yard or two, so as to take a full view of this silent circle. i began to feel as if at last i had fallen into strange company. i began to look more closely at my companions, and to try to fancy what their characters in life had been. one had undoubtedly been a warrior; there was something bold and defiant about the whole air of the head. another was the head of a very old man, grey, shrivelled, and wrinkled. i was going on with my observations when i was saluted by a voice from behind with, "looking at the eds, sir?" it was one of the pakehas formerly mentioned. "yes," said i, turning round just the least possible thing quicker than ordinary. "eds has been a getting scarce," says he. "i should think so," says i. "we an't ad a ed this long time," says he. "the devil!" says i. "one o' them eds has been hurt bad," says he. "i should think all were, rather so," says i, "oh no, only one on 'em," says he, "the skull is split, and it won't fetch nothin," says he. "oh, murder! i see, now," says i. "eds was _werry_ scarce," says he, shaking his own "ed." "ah!" said i. "they had to tattoo a slave a bit ago," says he, "and the villain ran away, tattooin' and all!" says he. "what?" said i. "bolted afore he was fit to kill," says he. "stole off with his own head?" says i. "that's just it," says he. "_capital_ felony!" says i. "you may say that, sir," says he. "good morning," said i. i walked away pretty smartly. "loose notions about heads in this country," said i to myself; and involuntarily putting up my hand to my own, i thought somehow the bump of combativeness felt smaller, or indeed had vanished altogether. "it's all very funny," said i. i walked down into the plain. i saw in one place a crowd of women, boys, and others. there was a great noise of lamentation going on. i went up to the crowd, and there beheld, lying on a clean mat, which was spread on the ground, another head. a number of women were standing in a row before it, screaming, wailing, and quivering their hands about in a most extraordinary manner, and cutting themselves dreadfully with sharp flints and shells. one old woman, in the centre of the group, was one clot of blood from head to feet, and large clots of coagulated blood lay on the ground where she stood. the sight was absolutely horrible, i thought at the time. she was singing or howling a dirge-like wail. in her right hand she held a piece of _tuhua_, or volcanic glass, as sharp as a razor: this she placed deliberately to her left wrist, drawing it slowly upwards to her left shoulder, the spouting blood following as it went; then from the left shoulder downwards, across the breast to the short ribs on the right side; then the rude but keen knife was shifted from the right hand to the left, placed to the right wrist, drawn upwards to the right shoulder, and so down across the breast to the left side, thus making a bloody cross on the breast; and so the operation went on all the time i was there, the old creature all the time howling in time and measure, and keeping time also with the knife, which at every cut was shifted from one hand to the other, as i have described. she had scored her forehead and cheeks before i came; her face and body was a mere clot of blood, and a little stream was dropping from every finger--a more hideous object could scarcely be conceived. i took notice that the younger women, though they screamed as loud, did not cut near so deep as the old woman, especially about the face. this custom has been falling gradually out of use; and when practised now, in these degenerate times, the cutting and maiming is mere form, mere scratching to draw enough blood to swear by: but, in "the good old times," the thing used to be done properly. i often, of late years, have felt quite indignant to see some degenerate hussy making believe with a piece of flint in her hand, but who had no notion of cutting herself up properly as she ought to do. it shows a want of natural affection in the present generation, i think; they refuse to shed tears of blood for their friends as their mothers used to do. this head, i found on enquiry, was not the head of an enemy. a small party of our friends had been surprised; two brothers were flying for their lives down a hill-side; a shot broke the leg of one of them and he fell; the enemy were close at hand; already the exulting cry "_na! na! mate rawa!_" was heard; the wounded man cried to the brother, "do not leave my head a plaything for the foe." there was no time for deliberation. the brother _did not_ deliberate; a few slashes with the tomahawk saved his brother's head, and he escaped with it in his hand, dried it, and brought it home; and the old woman was the mother,--the young ones were cousins. there was no sister, as i heard, when i enquired. all the heads on the hill were heads of enemies, and several of them are now in museums in europe. with reference to the knowing remarks of the pakeha who accosted me on the hill on the state of the head market, i am bound to remark that my friend mr. ---- never speculated in this "article;" but the skippers of many of the colonial trading schooners were always ready to deal with a man who had "a real good head," and used to commission such men as my companion of the morning to "pick up heads" for them. it is a positive fact that some time after this the head of a live man was sold and paid for beforehand, and afterwards honestly delivered "as per agreement." the scoundrel slave who had the conscience to run away with his own head after the trouble and expense had been gone to to tattoo it to make it more valuable, is no fiction either. even in "the good old times" people would sometimes be found to behave in the most dishonest manner. but there are good and bad to be found in all times and places. now if there is one thing i hate more than another it is the raw-head-and-bloody-bones style of writing, and in these random reminiscences i shall avoid all particular mention of battles, massacres, and onslaughts, except there be something particularly characteristic of my friend the maori in them. as for mere hacking and hewing, there has been enough of that to be had in europe, asia, and america of late, and very well described too, by numerous "our correspondents." if i should have to fight a single combat or two, just to please the ladies, i shall do my best not to get killed, and hereby promise not to kill any one myself if i possibly can help it. i, however, hope to be excused for the last two or three pages, as it was necessary to point out that in the good old times, if one's own head was not sufficient, it was quite practicable to get another. i must, however, get rid of our visitors. next day, at daylight, they disappeared: canoes from their own tribe had come to meet them (the old woman with the flint had arrived in these canoes), and they departed _sans-ceremonie_, taking with them all that was left of the pigs and potatoes which had been given them, and also the "fine lot of eds." their departure was felt as a great relief, and though it was satisfactory to know peace was made, it was even more so to be well rid of the peacemakers. hail, lovely peace, daughter of heaven! meek-eyed inventor of armstrong guns and enfield rifles; you of the liquid fire-shell, hail! shooter at "bulls'-eyes," trainer of battalions, killer of wooden frenchmen, hail! (a bit of fine writing does one good.) nestling under thy wing, i will scrape sharp the point of my spear with a _pipi_ shell; i will carry fern-root into my pa; i will _cure_ those heads which i have killed in war, or they will spoil and "won't fetch nothin:" for these are thy arts, o peace! chapter iv. a little affair of "flotsam and jetsam." -- rebellion crushed in the bud. -- a pakeha's house sacked. -- maori law. -- a maori lawsuit. -- affair thrown into chancery. pakehas, though precious in the good old times, would sometimes get into awkward scrapes. accidents, i have observed, will happen at the best of times. some time after the matters i have been recounting happened, two of the pakehas who were "knocking about" mr. ----'s premises, went fishing. one of them was a very respectable old man-of-war's man; the other was the connoisseur of heads, who, i may as well mention, was thought to be one of that class who never could remember to a nicety how they had come into the country, or where they came from. it so happened that on their return, the little boat, not being well fastened, went adrift in the night, and was cast on shore at about four miles distance, in the dominions of a petty chief who was a sort of vassal or retainer of ours. he did not belong to the tribe, and lived on the land by the permission of our chief as a sort of tenant at will. of late an ill-feeling had grown up between him and the principal chief. the vassal had in fact begun to show some airs of independence, and had collected more men about him than our chief cared to see; but up to this time there had been no regular outbreak between them, possibly because the vassal had not yet sufficient force to declare independence formally. our chief was however watching for an excuse to fall out with him before he should grow too strong. as soon as it was heard where the boat was, the two men went for it as a matter of course, little thinking that this encroaching vassal would have the insolence to claim the right of "flotsam and jetsam," which belonged to the principal chief, and which was always waived in favour of his pakehas. on arrival, however, at this rebellious chief's dominions, they were informed that it was his intention to stick to the boat until he was paid a "stocking of gunpowder"--meaning a quantity as much as a stocking would hold, which was the regular standard measure in those days in that locality. a stocking of gunpowder! who ever heard of such an awful imposition? the demand was enormous in value and rebellious in principle. the thing must be put an end to at once. the principal chief did not hesitate: rebellion must be crushed in the bud. he at once mustered his whole force (he did not approve of "little wars,") and sent them off under the command of the relation eater, who served an ejectment in regular maori form, by first plundering the village and then burning it to ashes; also destroying the cultivation and provisions, and forcing the vassal to decamp with all his people on pain of instant massacre--a thing they did not lose a moment in doing, and i don't think they either eat or slept till they had got fifty miles off, where a tribe related to them received them and gave them a welcome. well, about three months after this, about daylight in the morning, i was aroused by a great uproar of men shouting, doors smashing, and women screaming. up i jumped, and pulled on a few clothes in less time, i am sure, than ever i had done before in my life; out i ran, and at once perceived that mr. ----'s premises were being sacked by the rebellious vassal, who had returned with about fifty men, and was taking this means of revenging himself for the rough handling he had received from our chief. men were rushing in mad haste through the smashed windows and doors, loaded with anything and everything they could lay hands on. the chief was stamping against the door of a room in which he was aware the most valuable goods were kept, and shouting for help to break it open. a large canoe was floating close to the house, and was being rapidly filled with plunder. i saw a fat old maori woman, who was washerwoman to the establishment, being dragged along the ground by a huge fellow, who was trying to tear from her grasp one of my shirts, to which she clung with perfect desperation. i perceived at a glance that the faithful old creature would probably save a sleeve. a long line of similar articles, my property, which had graced the _taiepa_ fence the night before, had disappeared. the old man-of-war's man had placed his back exactly opposite to that part of the said fence where hung a certain striped cotton shirt and well scrubbed canvas trowsers, which _could_ belong to no one but himself. he was "hitting out" lustily right and left. mr. ---- had been absent some days on a journey, and the head merchant, as we found after all was over, was hiding under a bed. when the old sailor saw me, he "sang out," in a voice clear as a bell, and calculated to be distinctly heard above the din:--"hit out, sir, if you please; let's make a fight of it the best we can; our mob will be here in five minutes; tahuna has run to fetch them." while he thus gave both advice and information, he also set a good example, having delivered just one thump per word or thereabouts. the odds were terrible, but the time was short that i was required to fight; so i at once floored a native who was rushing by me. he fell like a man shot, and i then perceived he was one of our own people who had been employed about the place; so, to balance things, i knocked down another, and then felt myself seized round the waist from behind, by a fellow who seemed to be about as strong as a horse. at this moment i cast an anxious glance around the field of battle. the old maori woman had, as i expected, saved a good half of my shirt; she had got on the top of an outhouse, and was waving it in a "sister anne" sort of manner, and calling to an imaginary friendly host, which she pretended to see advancing to the rescue. the old sailor had fallen under, but not surrendered to, superior force. three natives had got him down; but it took all they could do to _keep_ him down: he was evidently carrying out his original idea of making a fight of it, and gaining time;--the striped shirt and canvas trowsers still hung proudly on the fence. none of his assailants could spare a second to pull them down. i was kicking and flinging in the endeavour to extricate myself; or, at least to turn round, so as to carry out a "face to face" policy, which it would be a grand mistake to suppose was not understood long ago in the good old times. i had nearly succeeded, and was thinking what particular form of destruction i should shower on the foe, when a tremendous shout was heard. it was "our mob" coming to the rescue; and, like heroes of old, "sending their voice before them." in an instant both myself and the gallant old tar were released; the enemy dashed on board their canoe, and in another moment were off, darting away before a gale of wind and a fair tide at a rate that put half a mile at least between them and us before our protectors came up. "load the gun!" cried the sailor--(there was a nine-pound carronade on the cliff before the house, overlooking the river). a cartridge was soon found, and a shot, and the gun loaded. "slue her a little," cried my now commander; "fetch a fire stick." "aye, aye, sir" (from self). "wait a little; that will do--fire!"--(in a voice as if ordering the discharge of the whole broadside of a three-decker). bang! the elevation was perfectly correct. the shot struck the water at exactly the right distance, and only a few feet to one side. a very few feet more to the right and the shot would have entered the stern of the canoe, and, as she was end on to us, would have killed half the people in her. a miss, however, is as good as a mile off. the canoe disappeared behind a point, and there we were with an army of armed friends around us, who, by making great expedition, had managed to come exactly in time to be too late. this was a _taua muru_ (a robbing expedition) in revenge for the leader having been cleaned out by our chief, which gave them the right to rob any one connected with, related to, or under the protection of, our chief aforesaid, provided always that they were able. we, on the other hand, had the clear right to kill any of the robbers, which would then have given them the right to kill us; but until we killed some of them, it would not have been "correct" for them to have taken life, so they managed the thing neatly, so that they should have no occasion to do so. the whole proceeding was unobjectionable in every respect, and _tika_ (correct). had we put in our nine-pound shot at the stern of their canoe, it would have been correct also, but as we were not able, we had no right whatever to complain. the above is good law, and here i may as well inform the new zealand public that i am going to write the whole law of this land in a book, which i shall call "_ko nga ture_;" and as i intend it for the good of both races, i shall mix the two languages up in such a way that neither can understand; but this does not matter, as i shall add a "glossary," in coptic, to make things clear. some time after this, a little incident happened at my friend mr. ----'s place worth noting. our chief had, for some time back, a sort of dispute with another magnate, who lived about ten miles off. i really cannot say who was in the right--the arguments on both sides were so nearly balanced, that i should not like to commit myself to a judgment in the case. the question was at last brought to a fair hearing at my friend's house. the arguments on both sides were very forcible, so much so that in the course of the arbitration our chief and thirty of his principal witnesses were shot dead in a heap before my friend's door, and sixty others badly wounded, and my friend's house and store blown up and burnt to ashes. my friend was all but, or indeed, quite ruined, but it would not have been "correct" for him to complain--_his_ loss in goods being far overbalanced by the loss of the tribe in men. he was, however, consoled by hundreds of friends who came in large parties to condole and _tangi_ with him, and who, as was quite correct in such cases, shot and eat all his stock, sheep, pigs, goats, ducks, geese, fowls, &c., all in high compliment to himself, at which he felt proud, as a well conducted and conditioned pakeha maori (as he was) should do. he did not, however, survive these honours long, poor fellow. he died, and strange to say, no one knew exactly what was the matter with him--some said it was the climate, they thought. after this the land about which this little misunderstanding had arisen, was, so to speak, thrown into chancery, where it has now remained about forty years; but i hear that proceedings are to commence _de novo_ (no allusion to the "new system") next summer, or at farthest the summer after; and as i witnessed the first proceedings, when the case comes on again "may i be there to see." chapter v. every englishman's house is his castle. -- my estate and castle. -- how i purchased my estate. -- native titles to land, of what nature. -- value of land in new zealand. -- land commissioners. -- the triumphs of eloquence. -- magna charta. "every englishman's house is his castle," "i scorn the foreign yoke," and glory in the name of briton, and all that. the natural end, however, of all castles is to be burnt or blown up. in england it is true you can call the constable, and should any foreign power attack you with grinding organ and white mice, you may hope for succours from without, from which cause "castles" in england are more long lived. in new zealand, however, it is different, as, to the present day, the old system prevails, and castles continue to be disposed of in the natural way, as has been seen lately at taranaki. i now purchased a piece of land and built a "castle" for myself. i really can't tell to the present day who i purchased the land from, for there were about fifty different claimants, every one of whom assured me that the other forty-nine were "humbugs," and had no right whatever. the nature of the different titles of the different claimants was various. one man said his ancestors had killed off the first owners; another declared his ancestors had driven off the second party; another man, who seemed to be listened to with more respect than ordinary, declared that his ancestor had been the first possessor of all, and had never been ousted, and that this ancestor was a huge lizard that lived in a cave on the land many ages ago, and sure enough there was the cave to prove it. besides the principal claims, there were an immense number of secondary ones--a sort of latent equities--which had lain dormant until it was known the pakeha had his eye on the land. some of them seemed to me at the time odd enough. one man required payment because his ancestors, as he affirmed, had exercised the right of catching rats on it, but which he (the claimant) had never done, for the best of reasons, _i.e._, there were no rats to catch, except indeed pakeha rats, which were plenty enough, but this variety of rodent was not counted as game. another claimed because his grandfather had been murdered on the land, and--as i am a veracious pakeha--another claimed payment because _his_ grandfather had committed the murder! then half the country claimed payments of various value, from one fig of tobacco to a musket, on account of a certain _wahi tapu_, or ancient burying-ground, which was on the land, and in which every one almost had had relations or rather ancestors buried, as they could clearly make out, in old times, though no one had been deposited in it for about two hundred years, and the bones of the others had been (as they said) removed long ago to a _torere_ in the mountains. it seemed an awkward circumstance that there was some difference of opinion as to where this same _wahi tapu_ was situated, being, and lying, for in case of my buying the land it was stipulated that i should fence it round and make no use of it, although i had paid for it. (i, however, have put off fencing till the exact boundaries have been made out; and indeed i don't think i shall ever be called on to do so, the fencing proviso having been made, as i now believe, to give a stronger look of reality to the existence of the sacred spot, it having been observed that i had some doubts on the subject. no mention was ever made of it after the payments had been all made, and so i think i may venture to affirm that the existence of the said _wahi tapu_ is of very doubtful authenticity, though it certainly cost me a round "lot of trade.") there was one old man who obstinately persisted in declaring that he, and he alone, was the sole and rightful owner of the land; he seemed also to have a "fixed idea" about certain barrels of gunpowder; but as he did not prove his claim to my satisfaction, and as he had no one to back him, i of course gave him nothing; he nevertheless demanded the gunpowder about once a month for five-and-twenty years, till at last he died of old age, and i am now a landed proprietor, clear of all claims and demands, and have an undeniable right to hold my estate as long as ever i am able. it took about three months' negotiation before the purchase of the land could be made; and, indeed, i at one time gave up the idea, as i found it quite impossible to decide who to pay. if i paid one party, the others vowed i should never have possession, and to pay all seemed impossible; so at last i let all parties know that i had made up my mind not to have the land. this, however, turned out to be the first step i had made in the right direction; for, thereupon, all the different claimants agreed amongst themselves to demand a certain quantity of goods, and divide them amongst themselves afterwards. i was glad of this, for i wished to buy the land, as i thought, in case i should ever take a trip to the "colonies," it would look well to be able to talk of "my estate in new zealand." the day being now come on which i was to make the payment, and all parties present, i then and there handed over to the assembled mob the price of the land, consisting of a great lot of blankets, muskets, tomahawks, tobacco, spades, axes, &c. &c.; and received in return a very dirty piece of paper with all their marks on it, i having written the terms of transfer on it in english to my own perfect satisfaction. the cost per acre to me was, as near as can be, about five and a half times what the same quantity of land would have cost me at the same time in tasmania; but this was not of much importance, as the value of land in new zealand then, and indeed now, being chiefly imaginary, one could just as easily suppose it to be of a very great value as a very small one; i therefore did not complain of the cost. while i am on the subject of land and land titles, i may as well here mention that many years after the purchase of my land i received notice to appear before certain persons called "land commissioners," who were part and parcel of the new inventions which had come up soon after the arrival of the first governor, and which are still a trouble to the land. i was informed that i must appear and prove my title to the land i have mentioned, on pain of forfeiture of the same. now i could not see what right any one could have to plague me in this way, and if i had had no one but the commissioners and two or three hundred men of their tribe to deal with, i should have put my pa in fighting order, and told them to "come on;" for before this time i had had occasion to build a pa, (a little misunderstanding,) and being a regularly naturalized member of a strong tribe, could raise men to defend it at the shortest notice. but somehow these people had cunningly managed to mix up the name of queen victoria, god bless her! (no disparagement to king potatau) in the matter; and i, though a pakeha maori, am a loyal subject to her majesty, and will stick up and fight for her as long as ever i can muster a good imitation of courage or a leg to stand upon. this being the case, i made a very unwilling appearance at the court, and explained and defended my title to the land in an oration of four hours and a half's duration; and which, though i was much out of practice, i flatter myself was a good specimen of english rhetoric, and which, for its own merits as well as for another reason which i was not aware of at the time, was listened to by the court with the greatest patience. when i had concluded, and having been asked "if i had any more to say?" i saw the commissioner beginning to count my words, which had been all written, i suppose, in shorthand; and having ascertained how many thousand i had spoken, he handed me a bill, in which i was charged by the word, for every word i had spoken, at the rate of one farthing and one twentieth per word. oh, cicero! oh, demosthenes! oh, pitt, fox, burke, sheridan! oh, daniel o'connell! what would have become of you, if such a stopper had been clapt on your jawing tackle? fame would never have cracked her trumpet, and "dan" would never have raised the _rint_. for my part i have never recovered the shock. i have since that time become taciturn, and have adopted a spartan brevity when forced to speak, and i fear i shall never again have the full swing of my mother tongue. besides this, i was charged ten shillings each for a little army of witnesses who i had brought by way of being on the sure side--five shillings a head for calling them into court, and five more for "examining" them; said examination consisting of one question each, after which they were told to "be off." i do believe had i brought up a whole tribe, as i had thoughts of doing, the commissioners would not have minded examining them all. they were, i am bound to say, very civil and polite; one of them told me i was "a damned, infernal, clever fellow, and he should like to see a good many more like me." i hope i am not getting tedious, but this business made such an impression on me, that i can't help being too prolix, perhaps, when describing it. i have, however, often since that time had my doubts whether the queen (god bless her!) got the money or knew half as much of the affair as they wanted to make out. i _don't_ believe it. our noble queen would be clean above such a proceeding; and i mean to say it's against magna charta, it is! "justice shall _not be sold_," saith magna charta; and if it's not selling justice to make a loyal pakeha maori pay for every word he speaks when defending his rights in a court of justice, i don't know what is. well, to make matters up, they after some time gave me a title for my land (as if i had not one before); but then, after some years, they made me give it back again, on purpose, as they said, that they might give me a better! but since that time several more years have passed, and i have not got it; so, as these things are now all the fashion, "i wish i may get it." chapter vi. how i kept house. -- maori freebooters. -- an ugly customer. -- the "suaviter in modo." -- a single combat to amuse the ladies. -- the true maori gentleman. -- character of the maori people. i never yet could get the proper knack of telling a story. here i am now, a good forty years ahead of where i ought to be, talking of "title deeds" and "land commissioners," things belonging to the new and deplorable state of affairs which began when this country became "a british colony and possession," and also "one of the brightest jewels in the british crown." i must go back. having purchased my "estate," i set up housekeeping. my house was a good commodious _raupo_ building; and as i had a princely income of a few hundred a year "in trade," i kept house in a very magnificent and hospitable style. i kept always eight stout paid maori retainers, the pay being one fig of tobacco per week, and their potatoes, which was about as much more. their duties were not heavy; being chiefly to amuse themselves fishing, wrestling, shooting pigeons, or pig-hunting, with an occasional pull in the boat when i went on a water excursion. besides these paid retainers, there was always about a dozen hangers-on, who considered themselves a part of the establishment, and who, no doubt, managed to live at my expense; but as that expense was merely a few hundredweight of potatoes a week, and an odd pig now and then, it was not perceptible in the good old times. indeed these hangers-on, as i call them, were necessary; for now and then, in those brave old times, little experiments would be made by certain maori gentlemen of freebooting propensities, and who were in great want of "british manufactures," to see what could be got by bullying "the pakeha," and to whom a good display of physical force was the only argument worth notice. these gentry generally came from a long distance, made a sudden appearance, and, thanks to my faithful retainers, who, as a matter of course, were all bound to fight for me, though i should have found it hard to get much _work_ out of them, made as sudden a retreat, though on one or two occasions, when my standing army were accidentally absent, i had to do battle single-handed. i think i have promised somewhere that i would perform a single combat for the amusement of the ladies, and so i may as well do it now as at any other time. i shall, therefore, recount a little affair i had with one of these gentry, as it is indeed quite necessary i should, if i am to give any true idea of "the good old times." i must, however, protest against the misdeeds of a few ruffians--human wolves--being charged against the whole of their countrymen. at the time i am speaking of, the only restraint on such people was the fear of retaliation, and the consequence was, that often a dare-devil savage would run a long career of murder, robbery, and outrage before meeting with a check, simply from the terror he inspired, and the "luck" which often accompanies outrageous daring. at a time, however, and in a country like new zealand, where every man was a fighting man or nothing, these desperadoes, sooner or later, came to grief, being at last invariably shot, or run through the body, by some sturdy freeholder, whose rights they had invaded. i had two friends staying with me, young men who had come to see me from the neighbouring colonies, and to take a summer tour in new zealand; and it so happened that no less than three times during my absence from home, and when i had taken almost all my people along with me, my castle had been invaded by one of the most notorious ruffians who had ever been an impersonation of, or lived by, the law of force. this interesting specimen of the _genus homo_ had, on the last of these visits, demanded that my friends should hand over to him one pair of blankets; but as the prospectus he produced, with respect to payment, was not at all satisfactory, my friends declined to enter into the speculation, the more particularly as the blankets were mine. our freebooting acquaintance then, to explain his views more clearly, knocked both my friends down; threatened to kill them both with his tomahawk; then rushed into the bed-room, dragged out all the bed-clothes, and burnt them on the kitchen fire. this last affair was rather displeasing to me. i held to the theory that every englishman's house was his castle, and was moreover rather savage at my guests having been so roughly handled. i in fact began to feel that though i had up to this time managed to hold my own pretty well, i was at last in danger of falling under the imposition of "black mail," and losing my _status_ as an independent potentate--a _rangatira_ of the first water. i then and there declared loudly that it was well for the offender that i had not been at home, and that if ever he tried his tricks with _me_ he would find out his mistake. these declarations of war, i perceived, were heard by my men in a sort of incredulous silence, (silence in new zealand gives _dis_-sent,) and though the fellows were stout chaps, who would not mind a row with any ordinary mortal, i verily believe they would have all ran at the first appearance of this redoubted ruffian. indeed his antecedents had been such as might have almost been their excuse. he had killed several men in fair fight, and had also--as was well known--committed two most diabolical murders, one of which was on his own wife, a fine young woman, whose brains he blew out at half a second's notice for no further provocation than this:--he was sitting in the verandah of his house, and told her to bring him a light for his pipe. she, being occupied in domestic affairs, said, "can't you fetch it yourself? i am going for water." she had the calibash in her hand and their infant child on her back. he snatched up his gun and instantly shot her dead on the spot; and i had heard him afterwards describing quite coolly the comical way in which her brains had been knocked out by the shot with which the gun was loaded. he also had, for some trifling provocation, lopped off the arm of his own brother or cousin, i forget which, and was, altogether, from his tremendous bodily strength and utter insensibility to danger, about as "ugly a customer" as one would care to meet. i am now describing a regular maori ruffian of the good old times, the natural growth of a state of society wherein might was to a very great extent right, and where bodily strength and courage were almost the sole qualities for which a man was respected or valued. he was a bullet-headed, scowling, bow-legged, broad-shouldered, herculean savage, and all these qualifications combined made him unquestionably "a great _rangatira_," and, as he had never been defeated, his _mana_ was in full force. a few weeks after the affair of the blankets, as i was sitting all alone reading a sydney newspaper, which, being only a year old, was highly interesting, my friends and all my natives having gone on an expedition to haul a large fishing net, who should i see enter the room and squat down on the floor, as if taking permanent possession, but the amiable and highly interesting individual i have taken so much trouble to describe. he said nothing, but his posture and countenance spoke whole volumes of defiance and murderous intent. he had heard of the threats i had made against him, and there he was, let me turn him out if i dare. that was his meaning--there was no mistaking it. i have all my life been an admirer of the _suaviter in modo_, though it is quite out of place in new zealand. if you tell a man--a maori i mean--in a gentle tone of voice and with a quiet manner, that if he continues a given line of conduct you will begin to commence to knock him down, he simply disbelieves you, and thereby forces you to do that which, if you could have persuaded yourself to have spoken very uncivilly at first, there would have been no occasion for. i have seen many proofs of this, and though i have done my best for many years to improve the understanding of my maori friends in this particular, i find still there are but very few who can understand at all how it is possible that the _suaviter in modo_ can be combined with the _fortiter in re_. they in fact can't understand it for some reason perfectly inexplicable to me. it was, however, quite a matter of indifference, i could perceive, how i should open proceedings with my friend, as he evidently meant mischief. "habit is second nature," so i instinctively took to the _suaviter_. "friend," said i, in a very mild tone and with as amiable a smile as i could get up, in spite of a certain clenching of the teeth which somehow came on me at the moment, "my advice to you is to be off." he seemed to nestle himself firmer in his seat, and made no answer but a scowl of defiance. "i am thinking, friend, that this is my house," said i, and springing upon him i placed my foot to his shoulder, and gave a shove which would have sent most people heels over head. not so, however, with my friend. it shook him, certainly, a little; but in an instant, as quick as lightning, and as it appeared with a single motion, he bounded from the ground, flung his mat away over his head, and struck a furious blow at my head with his tomahawk. i escaped instant death by a quickness equal to or greater than his own. my eye was quick, and so was my arm; life was at stake. i caught the tomahawk in full descent; the edge grazed my hand; but my arm, stiffened like a bar of iron, arrested the blow. he made one furious, but ineffectual, effort to tear the tomahawk from my grasp; and then we seized one another round the middle, and struggled like maniacs in the endeavour to dash each other against the boarded floor, i holding on for dear life to the tomahawk, and making desperate efforts to get it from him, but without a chance of success, as it was fastened to his wrist by a strong thong of leather. he was, as i soon found, somewhat stronger than me, and heavier; but i was as active as a cat, and as long-winded as an emu, and very far from weak. at last he got a _wiri_ round my leg; and had it not been for the table on which we both fell, and which, in smashing to pieces, broke our fall, i might have been disabled, and in that case instantly tomahawked. we now rolled over and over on the floor like two mad bulldogs; he trying to bite, and i trying to stun him by dashing his bullet head against the floor. up again!--still both holding on to the tomahawk. another furious struggle, in the course of which both our heads, and half our bodies, were dashed through the two glass windows in the room, and every single article of furniture was reduced to atoms. down again, rolling like mad, and dancing about amongst the rubbish--the wreck of the house. by this time we were both covered with blood from various wounds, received i don't know how. i had been all this time fighting under a great disadvantage, for my friend was trying to kill me, and i was only trying to disarm and tie him up--a much harder thing than to kill. my reason for going to this trouble was, that as there were no witnesses to the row, if i killed him, i might have had serious difficulties with his tribe. up again; another terrific tussle for the tomahawk; down again with a crash; and so this life or death battle went on, down and up, up and down, for a full hour. at last i perceived that my friend was getting weaker, and felt that victory was only now a question of time. i, so far from being fatigued, was even stronger. another desperate wrestling match. i lifted my friend high in my arms, and dashed him, panting, furious, foaming at the mouth, but _beaten_, against the ground. there he lies; the worshipper of force. his god has deserted him. but no, not yet. he has one more chance, and a fatal one it nearly proved to me. i began to unfasten the tomahawk from his wrist. an odd expression came over his countenance. he spoke for the first time. "enough, i am beaten; let me rise." now i had often witnessed the manly and becoming manner in which some maoris can take defeat, when they have been defeated in what they consider fair play. i had also ceased to fear my friend, and so incautiously let go his left arm. like lightning he snatched at a large carving fork which, unperceived by me, was lying on the floor amongst the smashed furniture and _débris_ of my household effects; his fingers touched the handle, and it rolled away out of his reach, and my life was saved. he then struck me with all his remaining force on the side of the head, causing the blood to flow out of my mouth. one more short struggle, and he was conquered. but now i had at last got angry. the drunkenness, the exhilaration of fight, which comes on some constitutions, was fairly on me. i had also a consciousness that now i must kill my man, or, sooner or later, he would kill me. i thought of the place i would bury him; how i would stun him first with the back of the tomahawk, to prevent too much blood being seen; how i would then carry him off (i could carry two such men now, easy). i would _murder_ him and cover him up. i unwound the tomahawk from his wrist: he was passive and helpless now. i wished he was stronger, and told him to get up and "die standing," as his countrymen say. i clutched the tomahawk for the _coup-de-grâce_, (i can't help it, young ladies, the devil is in me,)--at this instant a thundering sound of feet is heard,--a whole tribe are coming! now am i either lost or saved!--saved from doing that which i should afterwards repent, though constrained by necessity to do it. the rush of charging feet comes closer. in an instant comes dashing and smashing through doors and windows, in breathless haste and alarm, a whole tribe of friends. small ceremony now with my antagonist. he was dragged by the heels, stamped on, kicked, and thrown half-dead, or nearly quite dead, into his canoe. all the time we had been fighting a little slave imp of a boy belonging to my antagonist had been loading the canoe with my goods and chattels, and had managed to make a very fair plunder of it. these were all now brought back by my friends, except one cloth jacket, which happened to be concealed under the _whariki_, and which i only mention because i remember that the attempt to recover it some time afterwards cost one of my friends his life. the savage scoundrel who had so nearly done for me, broke two of his ribs, and so otherwise injured him that he never recovered, and died after lingering about a year. my friends were going on a journey, and had called to see me as they passed. they saw the slave boy employed as i have stated, and knowing to whom he belonged had rushed at once to the rescue, little expecting to find me alive. i may as well now dispose of this friend of mine by giving his after history. he for a long time after our fight went continually armed with a double gun, and said he would shoot me wherever he met me; he however had had enough of attacking me in my "castle," and so did not call there any more. i also went continually armed, and took care also to have always some of my people at hand. after this, this fellow committed two more murders, and also killed in fair fight with his own hand the first man in a native battle, in which the numbers on each side were about three hundred, and which i witnessed. the man he killed was a remarkably fine young fellow, a great favourite of mine. at last, having attacked and attempted to murder another native, he was shot through the heart by the person he attempted to murder, and fell dead on the spot, and so there died "a great _rangatira_." his tribe quietly buried him and said no more about it, which showed their sense of right. had he been killed in what they considered an unjust manner, they would have revenged his death at any cost; but i have no doubt they themselves were glad to get rid of him, for he was a terror to all about him. i have been in many a scrape both by sea and land, but i must confess that i never met a more able hand at an argument than this maori _rangatira_. i have not mentioned my friend's name with whom i had this discussion on the rights of englishmen, because he has left a son, who is a great _rangatira_, and who might feel displeased if i was too particular, and i am not quite so able now to carry out a "face-to-face" policy as i was a great many years ago; besides there is a sort of "honour amongst thieves" feeling between myself and my maori friends on certain matters which we mutually understand are not for the ears of the "new people." now, ladies, i call that a fairish good fight, considering no one is killed on either side. i promise to be good in future and to keep the peace, if people will let me; and indeed, i may as well mention, that from that day to this i have never had occasion to explain again to a maori how it is that "every englishman's house is his castle." "fair play is a jewel;" and i will here, as bound in honour to do, declare that i have met amongst the natives with men who would be a credit to any nation; men on whom nature had plainly stamped the mark of "noble," of the finest bodily form, quick and intelligent in mind, polite and brave, and capable of the most self-sacrificing acts for the good of others; patient, forbearing, and affectionate in their families; in a word, gentlemen. these men were the more remarkable, as they had grown up surrounded by a set of circumstances of the most unfavourable kind for the development of the qualities of which they were possessed; and i have often looked on with admiration, when i have seen them protesting against, and endeavouring to restrain some of, the dreadful barbarities of their countrymen. as for the maori people in general, they are neither so good or so bad as their friends and enemies have painted them, and i suspect are pretty much like what almost any other people would have become, if subjected for ages to the same external circumstances. for ages they have struggled against necessity in all its shapes. this has given to them a remarkable greediness for gain in every visible and immediately tangible form. it has even left its mark on their language. without the aid of iron the most trifling tool or utensil could only be purchased by an enormously disproportionate outlay of labour in its construction, and, in consequence, became precious to a degree scarcely conceivable by people of civilised and wealthy countries. this great value attached to personal property of all kinds, increased proportionately the temptation to plunder; and where no law existed, or could exist, of sufficient force to repress the inclination, every man, as a natural consequence, became a soldier, if it were only for the defence of his own property and that of those who were banded with him--his tribe, or family. from this state of things regular warfare arose, as a matter of course; the military art was studied as a science, and brought to great perfection as applied to the arms used; and a marked military character was given to the people. the necessity of labour, the necessity of warfare, and a temperate climate, gave them strength of body, accompanied by a perseverance and energy of mind perfectly astonishing. with rude and blunt stones they felled the giant kauri--toughest of pines; and from it, in process of time, at an expense of labour, perseverance, and ingenuity perfectly astounding to those who know what it really was--produced, carved, painted, and inlaid, a masterpiece of art, and an object of beauty--the war canoe, capable of carrying a hundred men on a distant expedition, through the boisterous seas surrounding their island. as a consequence of their warlike habits and character, they are self-possessed and confident in themselves and their own powers, and have much diplomatic finesse and casuistry at command. their intelligence causes them theoretically to acknowledge the benefits of law, which they see established amongst us, but their hatred of restraint causes them practically to abhor and resist its full enforcement amongst themselves. doubting our professions of friendship, fearing our ultimate designs, led astray by false friends, possessed of that "little learning" which is, in their case, most emphatically "a dangerous thing," divided amongst themselves,--such are the people with whom we are now in contact,--such the people to whom, for our own safety and their preservation, we must give new laws and institutions, new habits of life, new ideas, sentiments, and information,--whom we must either civilise or by our mere contact exterminate. how is this to be done?[ ] let me see. i think i shall answer this question when i am prime minister. [footnote : printer's devil:--how is _this_ to be done?--_which?_ _what?_--how?--_civilise_ or _exterminate_? pakeha maori:--_eaha mau!_] chapter vii. excitement caused by first contact with europeans. -- the two great institutions of maori land. -- the muru. -- the tapu. -- instances of legal robbery. -- descriptions and examples of the muru. -- profit and loss. -- explanation of some of the workings of the law of muru. the natives have been for fifty years or more in a continual state of excitement on one subject or another, which has had a markedly bad effect on their character and physical condition, as i shall by-and-by take occasion to point out. when the first straggling ships came here the smallest bit of iron was a prize so inestimable that i might be thought to exaggerate were i to tell the bare truth on the subject. the excitement and speculation caused by a ship being seen off the coast was immense. where would she anchor? what _iron_ could be got from her? would it be possible to seize her? the oracle was consulted, preparations were made to follow her along the coast, even through an enemy's country, at all risks; and when she disappeared she was not forgotten, and would continue long to be the subject of anxious expectation and speculation. after this, regular trading began. the great madness then was for muskets and gunpowder. a furious competition was kept up. should any tribe fail to procure a stock of these articles as soon as its neighbours, extermination was its probable doom. we may then imagine the excitement, the over-labour, the hardship, the starvation (occasioned by crops neglected whilst labouring to produce flax or other commodity demanded in payment)--i say imagine, but i have seen at least part of it. after the demand for arms was supplied, came a perfect furore for iron tools, instruments of husbandry, clothing, and all kinds of pakeha manufactures. these things having been quite beyond their means while they were supplying themselves with arms, they were in the most extreme want of them, particularly iron tools. a few years ago the madness ran upon horses and cattle; and now young new zealand believes in nothing but money, and they are continually tormenting themselves with plans to acquire it in large sums at once, without the trouble of slow and saving industry, which, as applied to the accumulation of money, they neither approve of nor understand; nor will they ever, as a people, take this mode till convinced that money, like everything else of value, can only be procured as a rule by giving full value for it, either in labour or the produce of labour. here i am, i find, again before my story. right down to the present time talking of "young new zealand," and within a hair's-breadth of settling "the maori difficulty" without having been paid for it, which would have been a great oversight, and contrary to the customs of new zealand. i must go back. there were in the old times two great institutions, which reigned with iron rod in maori land--the _tapu_ and the _muru_. pakehas who knew no better, called the _muru_ simply "robbery," because the word _muru_, in its common signification, means to plunder. but i speak of the regular legalized and established system of plundering as penalty for offences, which in a rough way resembled our law by which a man is obliged to pay "damages." great abuses had, however, crept into this system--so great, indeed, as to render the retention of any sort of moveable property almost an impossibility, and to, in a great measure, discourage the inclination to labour for its acquisition. these great inconveniences were, however, met, or in some degree softened, by an expedient of a peculiarly maori nature, which i shall by-and-by explain. the offences for which people were plundered were sometimes of a nature which, to a _mere_ pakeha, would seem curious. a man's child fell in the fire and was almost burnt to death. the father was immediately plundered to an extent that almost left him without the means of subsistence: fishing nets, canoes, pigs, provisions--all went. his canoe upset, and he and all his family narrowly escaped drowning--some were, perhaps, drowned. he was immediately robbed, and well pummelled with a club into the bargain, if he was not good at the science of self-defence--the club part of the ceremony being always fairly administered one against one, and after fair warning given to defend himself. he might be clearing some land for potatoes, burning off the fern, and the fire spreads farther than he intended, and gets into a _wahi tapu_ or burial-ground. no matter whether any one has been buried in it or no for the last hundred years, he is tremendously robbed. in fact, for ten thousand different causes a man might be robbed; and i can really imagine a case in which a man for scratching his own head might be legally robbed. now, as the enforcers of this law were also the parties who received the damages, as well as the judges of the amount, which in many cases (such as that of the burnt child) would be everything they could by any means lay hands on, it is easy to perceive that under such a system personal property was an evanescent sort of thing altogether. these executions or distraints were never resisted; indeed, in many cases, as i shall explain by-and-by, it would have been felt as a slight, and even an insult, _not_ to be robbed; the sacking of a man's establishment being often taken as a high compliment, especially if his head was broken into the bargain; and to resist the execution would not only have been looked upon as mean and disgraceful in the highest degree, _but it would have debarred the contemptible individual from the privilege of robbing his neighbours_, which was the compensating expedient i have alluded to. all this may seem a waste of words to my pakeha maori readers, to whom these things have become such matters of course as to be no longer remarkable; but i have remembered that there are so many new people in the country who don't understand the beauty of being knocked down and robbed, that i shall say a few more words on the subject. the tract of country inhabited by a single tribe might be say from forty to a hundred miles square, and the different villages of the different sections of the tribe would be scattered over this area at different distances from each other. we will, by way of illustrating the working of the _muru_ system, take the case of the burnt child. soon after the accident it would be heard of in the neighbouring villages; the family of the mother are probably the inhabitants of one of them; they have, according to the law of _muru_, the first and greatest right to clean out the afflicted father--a child being considered to belong to the family of the mother more than to that of the father--in fact it is their child, who the father has the rearing of. the child was moreover a promising lump of a boy, the makings of a future warrior, and consequently very valuable to the whole tribe in general, but to the mother's family in particular. "a pretty thing to let him get spoiled." then he is a boy of good family, a _rangatira_ by birth, and it would never do to let the thing pass without making a noise about it. that would be an insult to the dignity of the families of both father and mother. decidedly, besides being robbed, the father must be assaulted with the spear. true, he is a famous spearman, and for his own credit must "hurt" some one or another if attacked. but this is of no consequence; a flesh wound more or less deep is to be counted on; and then think of the plunder! it is against the law of _muru_ that any one should be killed, and first blood ends the duel. then the natural affection of all the child's relations is great. they are all in a great state of excitement, and trying to remember how many canoes, and pigs, and other valuable articles, the father has got: for this must be a clean sweep. a strong party is now mustered, headed probably by the brother of the mother of the child. he is a stout chap, and carries a long tough spear. a messenger is sent to the father, to say that the _taua muru_ is coming, and may be expected to-morrow, or the next day. he asks, "is it a great _taua_?" "yes; it is a very great _taua_ indeed." the victim smiles, he feels highly complimented, he _is_ then a man of consequence. his child is also of great consideration; he is thought worthy of a large force being sent to rob him! now he sets all in motion to prepare a huge feast for the friendly robbers his relations. he may as well be liberal, for his provisions are sure to go, whether or no. pigs are killed and baked whole, potatoes are piled up in great heaps, all is made ready, he looks out his best spear, and keeps it always ready in his hand. at last the _taua_ appears on a hill half a mile off; then the whole fighting men of the section of the tribe of which he is an important member, collect at his back, all armed with spear and club, to show that they could resist if they would--a thing, however, not to be thought of under the circumstances. on comes the _taua_. the mother begins to cry in proper form; the tribe shout the call of welcome to the approaching robbers; and then with a grand rush, all armed, and looking as if they intended to exterminate all before them, the _kai muru_ appear on the scene. they dance the war dance, which the villagers answer with another. then the chief's brother-in-law advances, spear in hand, with the most alarming gestures. "stand up!--stand up! i will kill you this day," is his cry. the defendant is not slow to answer the challenge. a most exciting, and what to a new pakeha would appear a most desperately dangerous, fencing bout with spears instantly commences. the attack and defence are in the highest degree scientific; the spear shafts keep up a continuous rattle; the thrust, and parry, and stroke with the spear shaft follow each other with almost incredible rapidity, and are too rapid to be followed by an unpractised eye. at last the brother-in-law is slightly touched; blood also drops from our chief's thigh. the fight instantly ceases; leaning on their spears, probably a little badinage takes place between them, and then the brother-in-law roars out "_murua! murua! murua!_" then the new arrivals commence a regular sack, and the two principals sit down quietly with a few others for a friendly chat, in which the child's name is never mentioned, or the inquiry as to whether he is dead or alive even made. the case i have just described would, however, be one of more than ordinary importance; slighter "accidents and offences" would be atoned for by a milder form of operation. but the general effect was to keep personal property circulating from hand to hand pretty briskly, or indeed to convert it into public property; for no man could say who would be the owner of his canoe or blanket in a month's time. indeed, in that space of time, i once saw a nice coat, which a native had got from the captain of a trading schooner, and which was an article much coveted in those days, pass through the hands, and over the backs, of six different owners, and return, considerably the worse for wear, to the original purchaser; and all these transfers had been made by legal process of _muru_. i have been often myself paid the compliment of being robbed for little accidents occurring in my family, and have several times also, from a feeling of politeness, robbed my maori friends, though i can't say i was a great gainer by these transactions. i think the greatest haul i ever made was about half a bag of shot, which i thought a famous joke, seeing that i had sold it the day before to the owner for full value. a month after this i was disturbed early in the morning by a voice shouting, "get up!--get up! i will kill you this day. you have roasted my grandfather. get up!--_stand_ up!" i, of course, guessed that i had committed some heinous though involuntary offence, and the "stand up" hinted the immediate probable consequences; so out i turned, spear in hand, and who should i see, armed with a bayonet on the end of a long pole, but my friend the umwhile owner of the bag of shot. he came at me with pretended fury, made some smart bangs and thrusts, which i parried, and then explained to me that i had "cooked his grandfather;" and that if i did not come down handsome in the way of damages, deeply as he might regret the necessity, his own credit, and the law of _muru_, compelled him either to sack my house or die in the attempt. i was glad enough to prevent either event, by paying him two whole bags of shot, two blankets, divers fish-hooks, and certain figs of tobacco, which he demanded. i found that i had really and truly committed a most horrid crime. i had on a journey made my fire at the foot of a tree, in the top of which the bones of my friend's grandfather had once been deposited, but from which they had been removed ten years before; the tree caught fire and had burnt down: and i, therefore, by a convenient sort of figure of speech, had "roasted his grandfather," and had to pay the penalty accordingly. it did not require much financial ability on my part, after a few experiences of this nature, to perceive that i had better avail myself of my privileges as a pakeha, and have nothing further to do with the law of _muru_--a determination i have kept to strictly. if ever i have unwittingly injured any of my neighbours, i have always made what i considered just compensation, and resisted the _muru_ altogether; and i will say this for my friends, that when any of them have done an accidental piece of mischief, they have, in most cases without being asked, offered to pay for it. the above slight sketch of the penal law of new zealand i present and dedicate to the law lords of england, as it might, perhaps, afford some hints for a reform in our own. the only remark i shall have to add is, that if a man killed another, "malice prepense aforethought," the act, in nineteen cases out of twenty, would be either a very meritorious one, or of no consequence whatever; in either of which cases the penal code had, of course, nothing to do in the matter. if, however, a man killed another by _accident_, in the majority of cases the consequences would be most serious; and not only the involuntary homicide, but every one connected with him, would be plundered of everything they possessed worth taking. this, however, to an english lawyer, may require some explanation, which is as follows:--if a man thought fit to kill his own slave, it was nobody's affair but his own; the law had nothing to do with it. if he killed a man of another tribe, he had nothing to do but declare it was in revenge or retaliation for some aggression, either recent or traditional, by the other tribe, of which examples were never scarce. in this case the action became at once highly meritorious, and his whole tribe would support and defend him to the last extremity. if he, however, killed a man by accident, the slain man would be, as a matter of course, in most instances, one of his ordinary companions--_i.e._, one of his own tribe. the accidental discharge of a gun often caused death in this way. then, indeed, the law of _muru_ had full swing, and the wholesale plunder of the criminal and family was the penalty. murder, as the natives understood it--that is to say, the malicious destruction of a man of _the same tribe_--did not happen as frequently as might be expected; and when it did, went in most cases unpunished; the murderer in general managing to escape to some other section of the tribe where he had relations, who, as he fled to them for protection, were bound to give it, and always ready to do so; or otherwise he would stand his ground and defy all comers, by means of the strength of his own family or section, who all would defend him and protect him as a mere matter of course; and as the law of _utu_ or _lex talionis_ was the only one which applied in this case, and as, unlike the law of _muru_, nothing was to be got by enforcing it but hard blows, murder in most cases went unpunished. [and so, in this day, when a maori, for some real or fancied injury, or as a means to elevate his name, kills some wretched white man, he nearly always goes unpunished. the government ask for him to be given up, the tribe refuse, and there is an end of the matter.--pembroke.] chapter viii. the muru falling into disuse. -- why? -- examples of the tapu. -- the personal tapu. -- evading the tapu. -- the undertaker's tapu. -- how i got tabooed. -- frightful difficulties. -- how i got out of them. -- the war tapu. -- maori war customs. the law of _muru_ is now but little used, and only on a small scale. the degenerate men of the present day in general content themselves with asking "payment," and after some cavilling as to the amount, it is generally given; but if refused, the case is brought before a native magistrate, and the pleadings on both sides are often such as would astound our most famous barristers, and the decisions of a nature to throw those famous ones by sancho panza and walter the doubter for ever into the shade. i think the reason that the _muru_ is so much less practised than formerly is the fact that the natives are now far better supplied with the necessaries and comforts of life than they were many years ago, especially iron tools and utensils, and in consequence the temptation to plunder is proportionately decreased. money would still be a temptation; but it is so easily concealed, and in general they have so little of it, that other means are adopted for its acquisition. when i first saw the natives, the chance of getting an axe or a spade by the shorthand process of _muru_, or--at a still more remote period--a few wooden implements, or a canoe, was so great that the lucky possessor was continually watched by many eager and observant eyes, in hopes to pick a hole in his coat, by which the _muru_ might be legally brought to bear upon him. i say legally, for the natives always tried to have a sufficient excuse; and i absolutely declare, odd as it may seem, that actual, unauthorized, and inexcusable robbery or theft was less frequent than in any country i ever have been in, though the temptation to steal was a thousandfold greater. the natives of the present day are, however, improving in this respect, and, amongst other arts of civilization, are beginning to have very pretty notions of housebreaking, and have even tried highway robbery, though in a bungling way. the fact is they are just now between two tides. the old institutions which, barbarous and rude as they were, were respected and in some degree useful, are wearing out, and have lost all beneficial effect, and at the same time the laws and usages of civilization have not acquired any sufficient force. this state of things is very unfavourable to the _morale_ of young new zealand; but it is likely to change for the better, for it is a maxim of mine that "laws, if not _made_, will _grow_." i must now take some little notice of the other great institution, the _tapu_. the limits of these flying sketches of the good old times will not allow of more than a partial notice of the all-pervading _tapu_. earth, air, fire, water, goods and chattels, growing crops, men, women, and children,--everything absolutely was subject to its influence, and a more perplexing puzzle to new pakehas who were continually from ignorance infringing some of its rules, could not be well imagined. the natives, however, made considerable allowance for this ignorance, as well they might, seeing that they themselves, though from infancy to old age enveloped in a cloud of _tapu_, would sometimes fall into similar scrapes. the original object of the ordinary _tapu_ seems to have been the preservation of property. of this nature in a great degree was the ordinary personal _tapu_. this form of the _tapu_ was permanent, and consisted in a certain sacred character which attached to the person of a chief and never left him. it was his birthright, a part in fact of himself, of which he could not be divested, and which was well understood and recognized at all times as a matter of course. the fighting men and petty chiefs, and every one indeed who could by any means claim the title of _rangatira_--which in the sense i now use it means gentleman--were all in some degree more or less possessed of this mysterious quality. it extended or was communicated to all their moveable property, especially to their clothes, weapons, ornaments, and tools, and to everything in fact which they touched. this prevented their chattels from being stolen or mislaid, or spoiled by children, or used or handled in any way by others. and as in the old times, as i have before stated, every kind of property of this kind was precious in consequence of the great labour and time necessarily, for want of iron tools, expended in the manufacture, this form of the _tapu_ was of great real service. an infringement of it subjected the offender to various dreadful imaginary punishments, of which deadly sickness was one, as well as to the operation of the law of _muru_ already mentioned. if the transgression was involuntary, the chief, or a priest, or _tohunga_, could, by a certain mystical ceremony, prevent or remit the doleful and mysterious part of the punishment if he chose, but the civil action, or the robbery by law of _muru_, would most likely have to take its course, though possibly in a mitigated form, according to the circumstances. i have stated that the worst part of the punishment of an offence against this form of the _tapu_ was imaginary, but in truth, though imaginary it was not the less a severe punishment. "conscience makes cowards of us all," and there was scarcely a man in a thousand, _if_ one, who had sufficient resolution to dare the shadowy terrors of the _tapu_. i actually have seen an instance where the offender, though an involuntary one, was killed stone dead in six hours, by what i considered the effects of his own terrified imagination, but what all the natives at the time believed to be the work of the terrible avenger of the _tapu_. the case i may as well describe, as it was a strong one, and shows how, when falsehoods are once believed, they will meet with apparent proof from accidental circumstances. a chief of very high rank, standing, and _mana_ was on a war expedition; with him were about five hundred men. his own personal _tapu_ was increased twofold, as was that of all the warriors who were with him, by the _war tapu_. the _taua_ being on a very dangerous expedition, they were over and above the ordinary personal _tapu_ made sacred in the highest degree, and were obliged to observe strictly several mysterious and sacred customs, some of which i may have to explain by-and-by. they were, in fact, as irreverent pakehas used to say, "tabooed an inch thick," and as for the head chief, he was perfectly unapproachable. the expedition halted to dine. the portion of food set apart for the chief, in a neat _paro_ or shallow basket of green flax leaves, was, of course, enough for two or three men, and consequently the greater part remained unconsumed. the party having dined, moved on, and soon after a party of slaves and others, who had been some mile or two in the rear, came up carrying ammunition and baggage. one of the slaves, a stout, hungry fellow, seeing the chief's unfinished dinner, eat it up before asking any questions, and had hardly finished when he was informed by a horror-stricken individual--another slave who had remained behind when the _taua_ had moved on--of the fatal act he had committed. i knew the unfortunate delinquent well. he was remarkable for courage, and had signalized himself in the wars of the tribe. (the able-bodied slaves are always expected to fight in the quarrels of their masters, to do which they are nothing loth.) no sooner did he hear the fatal news than he was seized by the most extraordinary convulsions and cramps in the stomach, which never ceased till he died, about sundown the same day. he was a strong man, in the prime of life, and if any pakeha free-thinker should have said he was not killed by the _tapu_ of the chief, which had been communicated to the food by contact, he would have been listened to with feelings of contempt for his ignorance and inability to understand plain and direct evidence. it will be seen at once that this form of the _tapu_ was a great preserver of property. the most valuable articles might, in ordinary circumstances, be left to its protection, in the absence of the owners, for any length of time. it also prevented borrowing and lending in a very great degree; and though much laughed at and grumbled at by unthinking pakehas, who would be always trying to get the natives to give it up, without offering them anything equally effective in its place, or, indeed, knowing its real object or uses, it held its ground in full force for many years, and, in a certain but not so very observable a form, exists still. this form of the _tapu_, though latent in young folks of _rangatira_ rank, was not supposed to develope itself fully till they had arrived at mature age, and set up house on their own account. the lads and boys "knocked about" amongst the slaves and lower orders, carried fuel or provisions on their backs, and did all those duties which this personal _tapu_ prevented the elders from doing, and which restraint was sometimes very troublesome and inconvenient. a man of any standing could not carry provisions of any kind on his back, or if he did they were rendered _tapu_, and, in consequence, useless to any one but himself. if he went into the shed used as a kitchen (a thing, however, he would never think of doing except on some great emergency), all the pots, ovens, food, &c. would be at once rendered useless--none of the cooks or inferior people could make use of them, or partake of anything which had been cooked in them. he might certainly light a little fire in his own house, not for cooking, as that never by any chance could be done in his house, but for warmth; but that, or any other fire, if he should have blown upon it with his breath in lighting it, became at once _tapu_, and could be used for no common or culinary purpose. even to light a pipe at it would subject any inferior person, or in many instances an equal, to a terrible attack of the _tapu morbus_, besides being a slight or affront to the dignity of the person himself. i have seen two or three young men fairly wearing themselves out on a wet day and with bad apparatus trying to make fire to cook with, by rubbing two sticks together, when on a journey, and at the same time there was a roaring fire close at hand at which several _rangatira_ and myself were warming ourselves, but it was _tapu_, sacred fire--one of the _rangatira_ had made it from his own tinder-box, and blown upon it in lighting it, and as there was not another tinder-box amongst us, fast we must, though hungry as sharks, till common culinary fire could be obtained. a native whose personal _tapu_ was perhaps of the strongest, might, when at the house of a pakeha, ask for a drink of water; the pakeha, being green, would hand him some water in a glass, or in those days, more probably in a tea-cup; the native would drink the water, and then gravely and quietly break the cup to pieces, or otherwise he would appropriate it by causing it to vanish under his mat. the new pakeha would immediately fly into a passion, to the great astonishment of the native, who considered, as a matter of course, that the cup or glass was, in the estimation of the pakeha, a very worthless article, or he would not have given it into his hand and allowed him to put it to his head, the part most strongly infected by the _tapu_. both parties would be surprised and displeased; the native wondering what could have put the pakeha into such a taking, and the pakeha "wondering at the rascal's impudence, and what he meant by it?" the proper line of conduct for the pakeha in the above case made and provided, supposing him to be of a hospitable and obliging disposition, would be to lay hold of some vessel containing about two gallons of water (to allow for waste), hold it up before the native's face, the native would then stoop down and put his hand, bent into the shape of a funnel or conductor for the water, to his mouth; then, from the height of a foot or so, the pakeha would send a cataract of water into the said funnel, and continue the shower till the native gave a slight upward nod of the head, which meant "enough," by which time, from the awkwardness of the pakeha, the two gallons of water would be about expended, half, at least, on the top of the native's head, who would not, however, appear to notice the circumstance, and would appreciate the civility of his pakeha friend. i have often drank in this way in the old times; asking for a drink of water at a native village, a native would gravely approach with a calabash, and hold it up before me ready to pour forth its contents; i, of course, cocked my hand and lip in the most knowing manner. if i had laid hold of the calabash and drank in the ordinary way as practised by pakehas, i would have at once fallen in the estimation of all bystanders, and been set down as a _tutua_--a nobody, who had no _tapu_ or _mana_ about him; a mere scrub of a pakeha, whom any one might eat or drink after without the slightest danger of being poisoned. these things are all changed now, and though i have often in the good old times been tabooed in the most diabolical and dignified manner, there are only a few old men left now who, by little unmistakable signs, i perceive consider it would be very uncivil to act in any way which would suppose my _tapu_ to have disappeared before the influx of new-fangled pakeha notions. indeed i feel myself sometimes as if i was somehow insensibly partially civilized. what it will all end in, i don't know. this same personal _tapu_ would even hold its own in some cases against the _muru_, though not in a sufficiently general manner to seriously affect the operation of that well-enforced law. its inconveniences were, on the other hand, many, and the expedients resorted to to avoid them were sometimes comical enough. i was once going on an excursion with a number of natives; we had two canoes, and one of them started a little before the other. i was with the canoe which had been left behind, and just as we were setting off it was discovered that amongst twenty stout fellows, my companions, there was no one who had a back!--as they expressed it--and, consequently, no one to carry our provisions into the canoe: all the lads, women, and slaves had gone off in the other canoe--all those who had backs--and so there we were left, a very disconsolate lot of _rangatira_, who could not carry their own provisions into the canoe, and who at the same time could not go without them. the provisions consisted of several heavy baskets of potatoes, some dried sharks, and a large pig baked whole. what was to be done? we were all brought to a full stop, though in a great hurry to go on. we were beginning to think we must give up the expedition altogether, and were very much disappointed accordingly, when a clever fellow, who, had he been bred a lawyer, would have made nothing of driving a mail coach through an act of parliament, set us all to rights in a moment. "i'll tell you what we must do," said he, "we will not carry (_pikau_) the provisions, we will _hiki_ them." (_hiki_ is the word in maori which describes the act of carrying an infant in the arms.) this was a great discovery! a huge handsome fellow seized on the baked pig and dandled it, or _hiki'd_ it, in his arms like an infant; another laid hold of a shark, others took baskets of potatoes, and carrying them in this way deposited them in the canoe. and so, having thus evaded the law, we started on our expedition. i remember another amusing instance in which the inconvenience arising from the _tapu_ was evaded. i must, however, notice that these instances were only evasions of the _tapu_ of the ordinary kind, what i have called the personal _tapu_, not the more dangerous and dreadful kind connected with the mystic doings of the _tohunga_, or that other form of _tapu_ connected with the handling of the dead. indeed, my companions in the instance i have mentioned, though all _rangatira_, were young men on whom the personal _tapu_ had not arrived at the fullest perfection; it seemed, indeed, sometimes to sit very lightly on them, and i doubt very much if the play upon the words _hiki_ and _pikau_ would have reconciled any of the elders of the tribe to carrying a roasted pig in their arms, or if they did do so, i feel quite certain that no amount of argument would have persuaded the younger men to eat it; as for slaves or women, to _look_ at it would almost be dangerous to them. the other instance of dodging the law was as follows:--i was the first pakeha who had ever arrived at a certain populous inland village. the whole of the inhabitants were in a great state of commotion and curiosity, for many of them had never seen a pakeha before. as i advanced, the whole juvenile population ran before me at a safe distance of about a hundred yards, eyeing me, as i perceived, with great terror and distrust. at last i suddenly made a charge at them, rolling my eyes and showing my teeth, and to see the small savages tumbling over one another, and running for their lives, was something curious, and though my "demonstration" did not continue more than twenty yards, i am sure some of the little villains ran a mile before looking behind to see whether the ferocious monster called a pakeha was gaining on them. they did run! i arrived at the centre of the village, and was conducted to a large house or shed, which had been constructed as a place of reception for visitors, and as a general lounging place for all the inhabitants. it was a _whare noa_, a house to which, from its general and temporary uses, the _tapu_ was not supposed to attach, i mean, of course, the ordinary personal _tapu_ or _tapu rangatira_. any person, however, _infected_ with any of the more serious or extraordinary forms of the _tapu_ entering it, would at once render it uninhabitable. i took my seat. the house was full, and nearly the whole of the rest of the population were blocking up the open front of the large shed, all striving to see the pakeha, and passing to the rear from man to man every word he happened to speak. i could hear them say to the people behind, "the pakeha has stood up!" "now he has sat down again!" "he has said, how do you all do?" "he has said, this is a nice place of yours!" etc., etc. now there happened to be at a distance an old gentleman engaged in clearing the weeds from a _kumera_ or sweet potato field, and as the kumera in the old times was the crop on which the natives depended chiefly for support, like all valuable things it was _tapu_, and the parties who entered the field to remove the weeds were _tapu_, _pro tem._, also. now one of the effects of this temporary extra _tapu_ was that the parties could not enter any regular dwelling-house, or indeed any house used by others. now the breach of this rule would not be dangerous in a personal sense, but the effect would be that the crop of sweet potatoes would fail. the industrious individual i have alluded to, hearing the cry of "a pakeha! a pakeha!" from many voices, and having never had an opportunity to examine that variety of the species, or _genus homo_, flung down his wooden _kaheru_ or weed exterminator and rushed towards the town house before mentioned. what could he do? the _tapu_ forbade his entrance, and the front was so completely blocked up by his admiring neighbours that he could not get sight of the wonderful guest. in these desperate circumstances a bright thought struck him; he would, by a bold and ingenious device, give the _tapu_ the slip. he ran to the back of the house, made with some difficulty a hole in the padded _raupo_ wall, and squeezed his head through it. the elastic wall of _raupo_ closed again around his neck; the _tapu_ was fairly beaten! no one could say he was _in_ the house. he was certainly more out than in, and there, seemingly hanging from or stuck against the wall, remained for hours, with open mouth and wondering eyes, this brazen head, till at last the shades of night obstructing its vision, a rustling noise in the wall of flags and reeds announced the departure of my bodyless admirer. some of the forms of the _tapu_ were not to be played with, and were of a most virulent kind. of this kind was the _tapu_ of those who handled the dead, or conveyed the body to its last resting-place. this _tapu_ was, in fact, the uncleanness of the old jewish law, and lasted about the same time, and was removed in almost the same way. it was a most serious affair. the person who came under this form of the _tapu_ was cut off from all contact, and almost all communication with the human race. he could not enter any house, or come in contact with any person or thing, without utterly bedeviling them. he could not even touch food with his hands, which had become so frightfully _tapu_ or unclean as to be quite useless. food would be placed for him on the ground, and he would then sit or kneel down, and, with his hands carefully held behind his back, would gnaw it in the best way he could. in some cases he would be fed by another person, who, with outstretched arm, would manage to do it without touching the _tapu'd_ individual; but this feeder was subjected to many and severe restrictions, not much less onerous than those to which the other was subject. in almost every populous native village there was a person who, probably for the sake of immunity from labour, or from being good for nothing else, took up the undertaking business as a regular profession, and, in consequence, was never for a moment, for years together, clear of the horrid inconveniences of the _tapu_, as well as its dangers. one of these people might be easily recognized, after a little experience, even by a pakeha. old, withered, haggard, clothed in the most miserable rags, daubed all over from head to foot with red paint (the native funereal colour), made of stinking shark oil and red ochre mixed, keeping always at a distance, silent and solitary, often half insane, he might be seen sitting motionless all day at a distance, forty or fifty yards from the common path or thoroughfare of the village. there, under the "lee" of a bush, or tuft of flax, gazing silently, and with "lack-lustre eye," on the busy doings of the maori world, of which he was hardly to be called a member. twice a day some food would be thrown on the ground before him, to gnaw as best he might, without the use of hands; and at night, tightening his greasy rags around him, he would crawl into some miserable lair of leaves and rubbish, there, cold, half-starved, miserable, and dirty, to pass, in fitful ghost-haunted slumbers, a wretched night, as prelude to another wretched day. it requires, they say, all sorts of people to make a world; and i have often thought, in observing one of these miserable objects, that his or her's was the very lowest ebb to which a human being's prospects in life could be brought by adverse fate. when i met, or rather saw, a female practitioner, i fairly ran for it; and so, believing my readers to be equally tender-hearted, i shall not venture on any more description, but merely say that the man undertaker, such as i have described him, would be taken for apollo if seen in one of these hag's company. what will my kind reader say when i tell him that i myself once got _tapu'd_ with this same horrible, horrible, most horrible style of _tapu_? i hold it to be a fact that there is not one man in new zealand but myself who has a clear understanding of what the word "excommunication" means, and i did not understand what it meant till i got _tapu'd_. i was returning with about sixty men from a journey along the west coast. i was a short distance in advance of the party, when i came to where the side of a hill had fallen down on to the beach, and exposed a number of human bones. there was a large skull rolling about in the water. i took up this skull without consideration, carried it to the side of the hill, scraped a hole, and covered it up. just as i had finished covering it up, up came my friends, and i saw at once, by the astonishment and dismay depicted on their countenances, that i had committed some most unfortunate act. they soon let me know that the hill had been a burying-place of their tribe, and jumped at once to the conclusion that the skull was the skull of one of their most famous chiefs, whose name they told me, informing me also that i was no longer fit company for human beings, and begging me to fall to the rear and keep my distance. they told me all this from a very respectful distance, and if i made a step towards them, they all ran as if i had been infected by the plague. this was an awkward state of things, but as it could not be helped, i voted myself _tapu_, and kept clear of my friends till night. at night when they camped i was obliged to take my solitary abode at a distance, under shelter of a rock. when the evening meal was cooked, they brought me a fair allowance, and set it down at a respectful distance from where i sat, fully expecting, i suppose, that i should bob at it as maori _kai tango atua_ or undertakers are wont to do. i had, however, no idea of any such proceeding; and pulling out my knife proceeded to operate in the usual manner. i was checked by an exclamation of horror and surprise from the whole band, "oh, what are you about, you are not going to touch food with your _hands_?" "indeed, but i am," said i, and stretched out my hand. here another scream--"you must not do that, it's the worst of all things; one of us will feed you; it's wrong, wrong, very wrong!" "oh, bother," said i, and fell to at once. i declare positively i had no sooner done so than i felt sorry. the expression of horror, contempt, and pity observable in their faces, convinced me that i had not only offended and hurt their feelings, but that i had lowered myself greatly in their estimation. certainly i was a pakeha, and pakehas will do most unaccountable things, and may be, in ordinary cases, excused; but this, i saw at once, was an act which, to my friends, seemed the _ne plus ultra_ of abomination. i now can well understand that i must have, sitting there eating my potatoes, appeared to them a ghoul, a vampire--worse than even one of their own dreadful _atua_, who, at the command of a witch, or to avenge some breach of the _tapu_, enters into a man's body and slowly eats away his vitals. i can see it now, and understand what a frightful object i must have appeared. my friends broke up their camp at once, not feeling sure, after what i had done, but i might walk in amongst them in the night, when they were asleep, and bedevil them all. they marched all night, and in the morning came to my house, where they spread consternation and dismay amongst my household by telling them in what a condition i was coming home. the whole of my establishment at this time being natives, they ran at once; and when i got home next evening, hungry and vexed, there was not a soul to be seen. the house and kitchen were shut up, fires out, and, as i fancied, everything looked dreary and uncomfortable. if only a dog had come and wagged his tail in welcome, it would have been something; but even my dog was gone. certainly there was an old tom cat, but i hate cats, there is no sincerity in them, and so i had kicked this old tom on principle whenever he came in my way, and now, when he saw me, he ran for his life into the bush. the instinct of a hungry man sent me into the kitchen; there was nothing eatable to be seen but a raw leg of pork, and the fire was out. i now began to suspect that this attempt of mine to look down the _tapu_ would fail, and that i should remain excommunicated for some frightfully indefinite period. i began to think of robinson crusoe, and to wonder if i could hold out as well as he did. then i looked hard at the leg of pork. the idea that i must cook for myself brought home to me the fact more forcibly than anything else how i had "fallen from my high estate"--cooking being the very last thing a _rangatira_ can turn his hand to. but why should i have anything more to do with cooking? was i not cast off and repudiated by the human race? (a horrible misanthropy was fast taking hold of me.) why should i not tear my leg of pork raw, like a wolf? "i will run a muck!" suddenly said i. "i wonder how many i can kill before they 'bag' me? i will kill, kill, kill! but--i must have some supper." i soon made a fire, and after a little rummaging found the _matériel_ for a good meal. my cooking was not so bad either, i thought; but certainly hunger is not hard to please in this respect, and i had eaten nothing since the diabolical meal of the preceding evening, and had travelled more than twenty miles. i washed my hands six or seven times, scrubbing away and muttering with an intonation that would have been a fortune to a tragic actor. "out, damned spot;" and so, after having washed and dried my hands, looked at them, returned, and washed again, again washed, and so on several times, i sat down and demolished two days' allowance. after which, reclining before the fire with my pipe and a blanket over my shoulders, a more kindly feeling towards my fellow men stole gradually upon me. "i wonder," said i to myself, "how long this devilish _tapu_ will last! i wonder if there is to be any end at all to it! i won't run a muck for a week, at all events, till i see what may turn up. confounded plague though to have to cook!" having resolved as above, not to take any one's life for a week, i felt more patient. four days passed somehow or another, and on the morning of the fifth, to my extreme delight, i saw a small canoe, pulled by one man, landing on the beach before the house. he fastened his canoe and advanced towards the kitchen, which was detached from the house, and which, in the late deplorable state of affairs, had become my regular residence. i sat in the doorway, and soon perceived that my visitor was a famous _tohunga_, or priest, and who also had the reputation of being a witch of no ordinary dimensions. he was an old, grave, stolid-looking savage, with one eye, the other had been knocked out long ago in a fight before he turned parson. on he came, with a slow, measured step, slightly gesticulating with one hand, and holding in the other a very small basket, not more than nine or ten inches long. he came on, mumbling and grumbling a perfectly unintelligible _karakia_ or incantation. i guessed at once he was coming to disenchant me, and prepared my mind to submit to any conditions or ceremonial he should think fit to impose. my old friend came gravely up, and putting his hand into the little basket pulled out a baked _kumera_, saying, "_he kai mau_." i of course accepted the offered food, took a bite, and as i ate he mumbled his incantation over me. i remember i felt a curious sensation at the time, like what i fancied a man must feel who had just sold himself, body and bones, to the devil. for a moment i asked myself the question whether i was not actually being then and there handed over to the powers of darkness. the thought startled me. there was i, an unworthy but believing member of the church of england as by parliament established, "knuckling down" abjectly to the ministration of a ferocious old cannibal, wizard, sorcerer, high priest,--as it appeared very probable,--to satan himself. "blacken his remaining eye! knock him over and run the country!" whispered quite plainly in my ear my guardian angel, or else a little impulsive sprite who often made suggestions to me in those days. for a couple of seconds the sorcerer's eye was in desperate danger; but just in those moments the ceremony, or at least this most objectionable part of it, came to an end. he stood back and said, "have you been in the house?" fortunately i had presence of mind enough to _forget_ that i had, and said, "no." "throw out all those pots and kettles." i saw it was no use to resist--so out they went. "fling out those dishes" was the next command. "the dishes?--they will break." "i am going to break them all." capital fun this--out go the dishes; "and may the ----." i fear i was about to say something bad. "fling out those knives, and those things with sharp points"--(the old villain did not know what to call the forks!)--"and those shells with handles to them"--(spoons!)--"out with everything." the last sweeping order is obeyed and the kitchen is fairly empty. the worst is over now at last, thank goodness, said i to myself. "strip off all your clothes." "what? strip naked! you desperate old thief--mind your eye." human patience could bear no more. out i jumped. i did "strip." off came my jacket. "how would you prefer being killed, old ruffian? can you do anything in this way?" (here a pugilistic demonstration.) "strip! he doesn't mean to give me five dozen, does he?" said i, rather bewildered, and looking sharp to see if he had anything like an instrument of flagellation in his possession. "come on! what are you waiting for?" said i. in those days, when labouring under what dickens calls the "description of temporary insanity which arises from a sense of injury," i always involuntarily fell back upon my mother tongue, which in this case was perhaps fortunate, as my necromantic old friend did not understand the full force of my eloquence. he could not, however, mistake my warlike and rebellious attitude, and could see clearly i was going into one of those most unaccountable rages that pakehas were liable to fly into, without any imaginable cause. "boy," said he, gravely and quietly, and without seeming to notice my very noticeable declaration of war and independence, "don't act foolishly; don't go mad. no one will ever come near you while you have those clothes. you will be miserable here by yourself. and what is the use of being angry? what will _anger_ do for you?" the perfect coolness of my old friend, the complete disregard he paid to my explosion of wrath, as well as his reasoning, began to make me feel a little disconcerted. he evidently had come with the purpose and intention to get me out of a very awkward scrape. i began also to feel that, looking at the affair from his point of view, i was just possibly not making a very respectable figure; and then, if i understood him rightly, there would be no _flogging_. "well," said i, at last, "fate compels; to fate, and not old hurlothrumbo there, i yield--so here goes." let me not dwell upon the humiliating concession to the powers of _tapu_. suffice it to say, i disrobed, and received permission to enter my own house in search of other garments. when i came out again, my old friend was sitting down with a stone in his hand, battering the last pot to pieces, and looking as if he was performing a very meritorious action. he carried away all the smashed kitchen utensils and my clothes in baskets, and deposited them in a thicket at a considerable distance from the house. (i stole the knives, forks, and spoons back again some time after, as he had not broken them.) he then bid me good-bye, and the same evening all my household came flocking back; but years passed before any one but myself would go into the kitchen, and i had to build another. and for several years also i could observe, by the respectable distance kept by young natives and servants, and the nervous manner with which they avoided my pipe in particular, that they considered i had not been as completely purified from the _tapu tango atua_ as i might have been. i now am aware, that in consideration of my being a pakeha, and also perhaps, lest driven to desperation, i should run away entirely, which would have been looked upon as a great misfortune to the tribe, i was let off very easy, and might therefore be supposed to retain some tinge of the dreadful infection. besides these descriptions of _tapu_, there were many others. there was the _war tapu_, which in itself included fifty different "sacred customs," one of which was this--that often when the fighting men left the pa or camp, they being themselves made _tapu_, or sacred, as in this particular case the word means, all those who remained behind, old men, women, slaves, and all non-combatants were obliged strictly to fast while the warriors were fighting; and, indeed, from the time they left the camp till their return, even to smoke a pipe would be a breach of this rule. these war customs, as well as other forms of the _tapu_, are evidently derived from a very ancient religion, and did not take their rise in this country. i shall probably, some of these days, treat of them at more length, and endeavour to trace them to their source. sacrifices were often made to the war demon, and i know of one instance in which, when a tribe were surrounded by an overwhelming force of their enemies, and had nothing but extermination, immediate and unrelenting, before them, the war chief cut out the heart of his own son as an offering for victory, and then he and his tribe, with the fury of despair and the courage of fanatics, rushed upon the foe, defeated them with terrific slaughter, and the war demon had much praise, and many men were eaten. the warriors, when on a dangerous expedition, also observed strictly the custom to which allusion is made. samuel, xxi. - . chapter ix. the tapu tohunga. -- the maori oracle. -- responses of the oracle. -- priestcraft. then came the _tapu tohunga_, or priest's _tapu_, a quite different kind or form of _tapu_ from those which i have spoken of. these _tohunga_ presided over all those ceremonies and customs which had something approaching to a religious character. they also pretended to the power, by means of certain familiar spirits, to foretell future events, and even in some cases to control them. the belief in the power of these _tohunga_ to foretell events was very strong, and the incredulous pakeha who laughed at them was thought a person quite incapable of understanding plain evidence. i must allow that some of their predictions were of a most daring nature, and happening to turn out perfectly successful, there may be some excuse for an ignorant people believing in them. most of these predictions were, however, given, like the oracles of old, in terms which would admit a double meaning, and secure the character of the soothsayer no matter how the event turned out. it is also remarkable that these _tohunga_ did not pretend to divine future events by any knowledge or power existing in themselves; they pretended to be for the time inspired by the familiar spirit, and passive in his hands. this spirit "entered into" them, and, on being questioned, gave a response in a sort of half-whistling, half-articulate voice, supposed to be the proper language of spirits; and i have known a _tohunga_ who, having made a false prediction, laid the blame on the "tricksey spirit," who he said had purposely spoken false for certain good and sufficient spiritual reasons, which he then explained. amongst the fading customs and beliefs of the good old times the _tohunga_ still holds his ground, and the oracle is as often consulted, though not so openly, as it was a hundred years ago, and is as firmly believed in, and this by natives who are professed christians; and the inquiries are often on subjects of the most vital importance to the welfare of the colony. a certain _tohunga_ has even quite lately, to my certain knowledge, been paid a large sum of money to do a miracle! i saw the money paid, and i saw the miracle. and the miracle was a good enough sort of miracle, as miracles go in these times. the natives know we laugh at their belief in these things. they would much rather we were angry, for then they would defy us; but as we simply laugh at their credulity, they do all they can to conceal it from us; but nevertheless the chiefs, on all matters of importance, continue to consult the maori oracle. i shall give two instances of predictions which came under my own observation, and which will show how much the same priestcraft has been in all times. a man--a petty chief--had a serious quarrel with his relations, left his tribe, and went to a distant part of the country, saying that he cast them off, and would never return. after a time the relations became both uneasy at his absence and sorry for the disagreement. the presence of the head of the family was also of consequence to them. they therefore inquired of the oracle if he would return. at night the _tohunga_ invoked the familiar spirit, he became inspired, and in a sort of hollow whistle came the words of fate:--"he will return, but yet not return." this response was given several times, and then the spirit departed, leaving the priest or _tohunga_ to the guidance of his own unaided wits. no one could understand the meaning of the response. the priest himself said he could make nothing of it. the spirit of course knew his own meaning; but all agreed that, whatever that meaning was, it would turn out true. now the conclusion of this story is rather extraordinary. some time after this several of the chief's relations went to offer reconciliation and to endeavour to persuade him to return home. six months afterwards they returned, bringing him along with them _a corpse_; they had found him dying, and carried his body home. now all knew the meaning of the words of the oracle, "he will return, but yet not return." another instance, which i witnessed myself, was as follows:--a captain of a large ship had run away with a maori girl; or a maori girl had run away with a ship captain; i should not like to swear which is the proper form of expression; and the relations, as in such cases happens in most countries, thought it incumbent on them to get into a great taking, and make as much noise as possible about the matter. off they set to the _tohunga_; i happened to be at his place at the time, and saw and heard all i am about to recount. the relations of the girl did not merely confine themselves to asking questions, they demanded active assistance. the ship had gone to sea loaded for a long voyage. the fugitives had fairly escaped; and what the relations wanted was that the _atua_, or familiar spirit of the _tohunga_, should bring the ship back into port, so that they might have an opportunity to recover the lost ornament of the family. i heard the whole. the priest hummed and hawed. "he did not know, could not say. we should hear what the 'boy' would say. he would do as he liked. could not compel him;" and so forth. at night all assembled in the house where the priest usually performed. all was expectation. i saw i was _de trop_ in the opinion of our soothsayer; in fact, i had got the name of an infidel (which i have since taken care to get rid of), and the spirit was unwilling to enter the company of unbelievers. my friend the priest hinted to me politely that a nice bed had been made for me in the next house. i thanked him in the most approved maori fashion, but said i was "very comfortable where i was;" and, suiting the action to the word, rolled my cloak about me, and lay down on the rushes with which the floor was covered. about midnight i heard the spirit saluting the guests, and they saluting him; and i also noticed they hailed him as "relation," and then gravely preferred the request that he would "drive back the ship which had stolen his cousin." the response, after a short time, came in the hollow, mysterious, whistling voice,--"the ship's nose i will batter out on the great sea." this answer was repeated several times, and then the spirit departed and would not be recalled. the rest of the night was spent in conjecturing what could be the meaning of these words. all agreed that there must be more in them than met the ear; but no one could say it was a clear concession of the request made. as for the priest, he said he could not understand it, and that "the spirit was a great rogue"--a _koroke hangareka_. he, however, kept throwing out hints now and then that something more than common was meant, and talked generally in the "we shall see" style. now here comes the end of the affair. about ten days after this in comes the ship. she had been "battered" with a vengeance. she had been met by a terrible gale when a couple of hundred miles off the land, and had sprung a leak in the bow. the bow in maori is called the "nose" (_ihu_). the vessel had been in great danger, and had been actually forced to run for the nearest port, which happened to be the one she had left. now, after such a coincidence as this, i can hardly blame the ignorant natives for believing in the oracle, for i actually caught myself quoting, "can the devil speak truth?" indeed i have in the good old times known several pakehas who "thought there was something in it," and two who formally and believingly consulted the oracle, and paid a high _douceur_ to the priest. i shall give one more instance of the response of the maori oracle. a certain northern tribe, noted for their valour, but not very numerous, sent the whole of their best men on a war expedition to the south. this happened about forty years ago. before the _taua_ started the oracle was consulted, and the answer to the question, "shall this expedition be successful?" came. "a desolate country!--a desolate country!--a desolate country!" this the eager warriors accepted as a most favourable response. they said the enemy's country would be desolated. it, however, so turned out that they were all exterminated to a man, and the miserable remnant of their tribe, weakened and rendered helpless by their loss, became a prey to their more immediate neighbours, lost their lands, and have ceased from that day to be heard of as an independent tribe. so, in fact, it was the country of the eager inquirers which was laid "desolate." every one praised the oracle, and its character was held higher than ever. chapter x. the priest evokes a spirit. -- the consequences. -- a maori tragedy. -- the "tohunga" again. these priests or _tohunga_ would, and do to this hour, undertake to call up the spirit of any dead person, if paid for the same. i have seen many of these exhibitions, but one instance will suffice as an example. a young chief, who had been very popular and greatly respected in his tribe, had been killed in battle, and, at the request of several of his nearest friends, the _tohunga_ had promised on a certain night to call up his spirit to speak to them, and answer certain questions they wished to put. the priest was to come to the village of the relations, and the interview was to take place in a large house common to all the population. this young man had been a great friend of mine; and so, the day before the event, i was sent to by his relations, and told that an opportunity offered of conversing with my friend once more. i was not much inclined to bear a part in such outrageous mummery, but curiosity caused me to go. now it is necessary to remark that this young chief was a man in advance of his times and people in many respects. he was the first of his tribe who could read and write; and, amongst other unusual things for a native to do, he kept a register of deaths and births, and a journal of any remarkable events which happened in the tribe. now this book was lost. no one could find it, although his friends had searched unceasingly for it, as it contained many matters of interest, and also they wished to preserve it for his sake. i also wished to get it, and had often inquired if it had been found, but had always been answered in the negative. the appointed time came, and at night we all met the priest in the large house i have mentioned. fires were lit, which gave an uncertain, flickering light. the priest retired to the darkest corner. all was expectation, and the silence was only broken by the sobbing of the sister and other female relations of the dead man. they seemed to be, and indeed were, in an agony of excitement, agitation, and grief. this state of things continued for a long time, and i began to feel in a way surprising to myself, as if there was something real in the matter. the heart-breaking sobs of the women, and the grave and solemn silence of the men, convinced me that, to them at least, this was a serious matter. i saw the brother of the dead man now and then wiping the tears in silence from his eyes. i wished i had not come, for i felt that any unintentional symptom of incredulity on my part would shock and hurt the feelings of my friends extremely; and yet, whilst feeling thus, i felt myself more and more near to believing in the deception about to be practised. the real grief, and also the general undoubting faith, in all around me, had this effect. we were all seated on the rush-strewn floor, about thirty persons. the door was shut; the fire had burnt down, leaving nothing but glowing charcoal. the room was oppressively hot. the light was little better than darkness, and the part of the room in which the _tohunga_ sat was now in perfect darkness. suddenly, without the slightest warning, a voice came out of the darkness. "salutation!--salutation to you all!--salutation!--salutation to you, my tribe!--family, i salute you!--friends, i salute you!--friend, my pakeha friend, i salute you!" the high-handed, daring imposture was successful; our feelings were taken by storm. a cry expressive of affection and despair, such as was not good to hear, came from the sister of the dead chief, a fine, stately, and really handsome woman of about five-and-twenty. she was rushing, with both arms extended, into the dark, in the direction from whence the voice came. she was instantly seized round the waist and restrained by her brother by main force, till moaning and fainting she lay still on the ground. at the same instant another female voice was heard from a young girl who was held by the wrists by two young men, her brothers. "is it you?--is it you?--_truly_ is it you?--_aue! aue!_ they hold me, they restrain me; wonder not that i have not followed you; they restrain me, they watch me, but i go to you. the sun shall not rise, the sun shall not rise, _aue! aue!_" here she fell insensible on the rush floor, and with the sister was carried out. the remaining women were all weeping and exclaiming, but were silenced by the men, who were themselves nearly as much excited, though not so clamorous. i, however, did notice two old men, who sat close to me, were not in the slightest degree moved in any way, though they did not seem at all incredulous, but quite the contrary. the spirit spoke again. "speak to me, the tribe!--speak to me, the family!--speak to me, the pakeha!" the "pakeha," however, was not at the moment inclined for conversation. the deep distress of the two women, the evident belief of all around him of the presence of the spirit, the "darkness visible," the novelty of the scene, gave rise to a state of feeling not favourable to the conversational powers. besides, i felt reluctant to give too much apparent credence to an imposture, which at the very same time, by some strange impulse, i felt half ready to give way to. at last the brother spoke. "how is it with you?--is it well with you in _that_ country?" the answer came--(the voice all through, it is to be remembered, was not the voice of the _tohunga_, but a strange melancholy sound, like the sound of the wind blowing into a hollow vessel),--"it is well with me; my place is a good place." the brother spoke again. "have you seen ----, and ----, and ----?" (i forget the names mentioned.) "yes, they are all with me." a woman's voice now from another part of the room anxiously cried out, "have you seen my sister?" "yes, i have seen her." "tell her my love is great towards her and never will cease." "yes, i will tell." here the woman burst into tears, and the pakeha felt a strange swelling of the chest, which he could in no way account for. the spirit spoke again. "give my large tame pig to the priest (the pakeha was disenchanted at once) and my double-gun." here the brother interrupted, "your gun is a _manatunga_, i shall keep it." he is also disenchanted, thought i, but i was mistaken. he believed, but wished to keep the gun his brother had carried so long. an idea now struck me that i could expose the imposture without showing palpable disbelief. "we cannot find your book," said i, "where have you concealed it?" the answer instantly came, "i concealed it between the _tahuhu_ of my house and the thatch, straight over you as you go in at the door." here the brother rushed out; all was silence till his return. in five minutes he came back _with the book in his hand_. i was beaten, but made another effort. "what have you written in that book?" said i. "a great many things." "tell me some of them." "which of them?" "any of them." "you are seeking for some information, what do you want to know? i will tell you." then suddenly, "farewell, o tribe! farewell, my family, i go!" here a general and impressive cry of "farewell" arose from every one in the house. "farewell," again cried the spirit, _from deep beneath the ground_! "farewell," again from _high in air_! "farewell," once more came moaning through the distant darkness of the night. "farewell!" i was for a moment stunned. the deception was perfect. there was a dead silence--at last. "a ventriloquist," said i; "or--or--_perhaps_ the devil." i was fagged and confused. it was past midnight; the company broke up, and i went to a house where a bed had been prepared for me. i wished to be quiet and alone; but it was fated there should be little quiet that night. i was just falling asleep, after having thought for some time on the extraordinary scenes i had witnessed, when i heard the report of a musket at some little distance, followed by the shouting of men and the screams of women. out i rushed. i had a presentiment of some horrible catastrophe. men were running by, hastily armed. i could get no information, so went with the stream. there was a bright flame beginning to spring up at a short distance, and every one appeared going in that direction. i was soon there. a house had been set on fire to make a light. before another house, close at hand, a dense circle of human beings was formed. i pushed my way through, and then saw, by the bright light of the flaming house, a scene which is still fresh before me: there, in the verandah of the house, was an old grey-bearded man; he knelt upon one knee, and on the other he supported the dead body of the young girl who had said she would follow the spirit to spirit land. the delicate-looking body from the waist upwards was bare and bloody; the old man's right arm was under the neck, the lower part of his long grey beard was dabbled with blood, his left hand was twisting his matted hair; he did not weep, he _howled_, and the sound was that of a heathen despair, knowing no hope. the young girl had secretly procured a loaded musket, tied a loop for her foot to the trigger, placed the muzzle to her tender breast, and blown herself to shatters. and the old man was her father, and a _tohunga_. a calm low voice now spoke close beside me, "she has followed her _rangatira_," it said. i looked round, and saw the famous _tohunga_ of the night. now, young ladies, i have promised not to frighten your little wits out with raw-head-and-bloody-bones stories, a sort of thing i detest, but which has been too much the fashion with folks who write of matters maori. i have vowed not to draw a drop of blood except in a characteristic manner. but this story is tragedy, or i don't know what tragedy is, and the more tragic because, in every particular, literally true, and so if you cannot find some pity for the poor maori girl who "followed her lord to spirit land," i shall make it my business not to fall in love with any of you any more for i won't say how long. chapter xi. the local tapu. -- the taniwha. -- the battle on motiti. -- the death of tiki whenua. -- reflections. -- brutus, marcus antonius, and tiki whenua. -- suicide. a story-teller, like a poet or a pugilist, must be _born_, and not _made_, and i begin to fancy i have not been born under a story-telling planet, for by no effort that i can make can i hold on to the thread of my story, and i am conscious the whole affair is fast becoming one great parenthesis. if i could only get clear of this _tapu_ i would "try back." i believe i ought to be just now completing the purchase of my estate. i am sure i have been keeping house a long time before it is built, which is i believe clear against the rules, so i must get rid of this talk about the _tapu_ the best way i can, after which i will start fair and try not to get before my story. besides these different forms of the _tapu_ which i have mentioned, there were endless others, but the temporary local _tapus_ were the most tormenting to a pakeha, as well they might be, seeing that even a native could not steer clear of them always. a place not _tapu_ yesterday might be most horribly _tapu_ to-day, and the consequences of trespassing thereon proportionately troublesome. thus, sailing along a coast or a river bank, the most inviting landing-place would be almost to a certainty the freehold property of the taniwha, a terrific sea-monster, who would to a certainty, if his landed property was trespassed on, upset the canoe of the trespassers and devour them all the very next time they put to sea. the place was _tapu_, and let the weather be as bad as it might, it was better to keep to sea at all risks than to land there. even pakeha, though in some cases invulnerable, could not escape the fangs of the terrible taniwha. "was not little jackey-_poto_, the sailor, drowned by the taniwha? he _would_ go on shore, in spite of every warning, to get some water to mix with his _waipiro_, and was not his canoe found next day floating about with his paddle and two empty case bottles in it?--a sure sign that the taniwha had lifted him out bodily. and was not the body of the said jackey found some days after with the taniwha's mark on it,--one eye taken out?" these taniwha would, however, sometimes attach themselves to a chief or warrior, and in the shape of a huge sea monster, a bird, or a fish, gambol round his canoe, and by their motions give presage of good or evil fortune. when the ngati kuri sailed on their last and fated expedition to the south, a huge taniwha, attached to the famous warrior, tiki whenua, accompanied the expedition, playing about continually amongst the canoes, often coming close to the canoe of tiki whenua, so that the warrior could reach to pat him approvingly with his paddle, at which he seemed much pleased; and when they came in sight of the island of tuhua, this taniwha chief called up the legions of the deep! the sea was blackened by an army of monsters, who, with uncouth and awful floundering and wallowing, performed before the chief and his companions a hideous _tu ngarahu_, and then disappeared. the ngati kuri, elated, and accepting this as a presage of victory, landed on tuhua, stormed the pa, and massacred its defenders. but they had mistaken the meaning of the monster review of the taniwha. it was a leave-taking of his favourite warrior, for the ngati kuri were fated to die to a man on the next land they trod. a hundred and fifty men were they--the pick and prime of their tribe. all _rangatira_, all warriors of name, few in numbers, but desperately resolute, they thought it little to defeat the thousands of the south, and take the women and children as a prey! having feasted and rejoiced at tuhua, they sail for motiti. this world was too small for them. they were impatient for battle. they thought to make the name of kuri strike against the skies; but in the morning the sea is covered with war canoes. the thousands of the south are upon them! ngati awa, with many an allied band, mad for revenge, come on. fight now, oh ngati kuri!--not for _victory_, no, nor for _life_. think only now of _utu_!--for your time is come. that which you have dealt to many, you shall now receive. fight!--fight! your tribe shall be exterminated, but you must leave a name! now came the tug of war on "bare motiti." from early morning till the sun had well declined, that ruthless battle raged. twice their own number had the ngati kuri slain; and then tiki whenua, still living, saw around him his dead and dying tribe. a handful of bleeding warriors still resisted--a last and momentary struggle. he thought of the _utu_; it was great. he thought of the ruined remnant of the tribe at home, and then he remembered--horrid thought!--that ere next day's setting sun, he and all the warriors of his tribe would be baked and eaten. (tiki, my friend, thou art in trouble.) a cannon was close at hand--a nine-pound carronade. they had brought it in the canoes. hurriedly he filled it half full of powder, seized a long firebrand, placed his breast to the cannon's mouth, fired with his own hand. tiki whenua, good night! now i wonder if brutus had had such a thing as a nine-pounder about him at phillippi, whether he would have thought of using it in this way. i really don't think he would. i have never looked upon brutus as anything of an original genius, but tiki whenua most certainly was. i don't think there is another instance of a man blowing himself from a gun--of course there are many examples of people blowing others from cannon, but that is quite a different thing--any blockhead can do that. but the _exit_ of tiki whenua has a smack of originality about it which i like, and so i have mentioned it here. but all this is digression on digression; however, i suppose the reader is getting used to it, and i cannot help it; besides, i wanted to show them how poor tiki "took arms against a sea of troubles," and for the want of a "bare bodkin" made shift with a carronade. i shall never cease to lament those nice lads who met with that little accident (poor fellows!) on motiti. a fine, strapping, stalwart set of fellows, who believed in force. we don't see many such men now-a-days; the present generation of maori are a stunted, tobacco-smoking, grog-drinking, psalm-singing, special-pleading, shilling-hunting set of wretches; not above one in a dozen of them would know how to cut up a man _secundem artem_. pshaw! i am ashamed of them. i am getting tired of this _tapu_, so will give only one or two more instances of the local temporary _tapu_. in the autumn, when the great crop of _kumera_ was gathered, all the paths leading to the village and cultivated lands were made _tapu_, and any one coming along them would have notice of this by finding a rope stretched across the road about breast-high; when he saw this, his business must be very urgent indeed or he would go back, and it would have been taken as a very serious affront indeed, even in a near relation, supposing his ordinary residence was not in the village, to disregard the hint given by the rope,--that for the present there was "no thoroughfare." now, the reason of this blockade of the roads was this. the report of an unusually fine crop of _kumera_ had often cost its cultivators and the whole tribe their lives. the news would spread about that ngati so-and-so, living at so-and-so, had housed so many thousands of baskets of _kumera_. exaggeration would multiply the truth by ten, the fertile land would be coveted, and very probably its owners, or rather its _holders_, would have to fight both for it and their lives before the year was out. for this reason strangers were not welcome at the maori harvest home. the _kumera_ were dug hurriedly by the whole strength of the working hands, thrown in scattered heaps, and concealed from any casual observation by strangers by being covered over with the leaves of the plants, and when all were dug then all hands set to work, at night, to fill the baskets and carry off the crop to the storehouse or _rua_, and every effort was made to get all stored and out of sight before daylight, lest any one should be able to form any idea of the extent of the crop. when the digging of one field was completed another would be done in the same manner, and so on till the whole crop was housed in this stealthy manner. i have been at several of these midnight labours, and have admired the immense amount of work one family would do in a single night, working as it were for life and death. in consequence of this mode of proceeding, even the families inhabiting the same village did not know what sort of a crop their neighbours had, and if a question was asked (to do which was thought impertinent and very improper), the invariable answer was, "nothing at all; barely got back the seed; hardly that; we shall be starved; we shall have to eat fern root this year," &c. the last time i observed this custom was about twenty-seven years ago, and even then it was nearly discontinued and no longer general. talking of bygone habits and customs of the natives, i remember i have mentioned two cases of suicide. i shall, therefore, now take occasion to state that no more marked alteration in the habits of the natives has taken place than in the great decrease of cases of suicide. in the first years of my residence in the country, it was of almost daily occurrence. when a man died, it was almost a matter of course that his wife, or wives, hung themselves. when the wife died, the man very commonly shot himself. i have known young men, often on the most trifling affront or vexation, shoot themselves; and i was acquainted with a man who, having been for two days plagued with the toothache, cut his throat with a very blunt razor, without a handle, as a radical cure, which it certainly was. i do not believe that one case of suicide occurs now, for twenty when i first came into the country. indeed, the last case i have heard of in a populous district, occurred several years ago. it was rather a remarkable one. a native owed another a few shillings; the creditor kept continually asking for it; but the debtor, somehow or other, never could raise the cash. at last, being out of patience, and not knowing anything of the insolvent court, he loaded his gun, went to the creditor's house, and called him out. out came the creditor and his wife. the debtor then placed the gun to his own breast, and saying, "here is your payment," pulled the trigger with his foot, and fell dead before them. i think the reason suicide has become so comparatively unfrequent is, that the minds of the natives are now filled and agitated by a flood of new ideas, new wants and ambitions, which they knew not formerly, and which prevents them, from one single loss or disappointment, feeling as if there was nothing more to live for. chapter xii. the tapa. -- instances of. -- the storming of mokoia. -- pomare. -- hongi ika. -- tareha. -- honour amongst thieves. there was a kind of variation on the _tapu_, called _tapa_, of this nature. for instance, if a chief said, "that axe is my head," the axe became his to all intents and purposes, except, indeed, the owner of the axe was able to break his "head," in which case, i have reason to believe, the _tapa_ would fall to the ground. it was, however, in a certain degree necessary to have some legal reason, or excuse, for making the _tapa_; but to give some idea of what constituted the circumstances under which a man could fairly _tapa_ anything, i must needs quote a case in point. when the ngapuhi attacked the tribe of ngati wakawe, at rotorua, the ngati wakawe retired to the island of mokoia in the lake of rotorua, which they fortified, thinking that, as the ngapuhi canoes could not come nearer than kaituna on the east coast, about thirty miles distant, they in their island position would be safe. but in this they were fatally deceived, for the ngapuhi dragged a whole fleet of war canoes over land. when, however, the advanced division of the ngapuhi arrived at rotorua, and encamped on the shore of the lake, ngati wakawe were not aware that the canoes of the enemy were coming, so every morning they manned their large canoes, and leaving the island fort, would come dashing along the shore, deriding the ngapuhi, and crying, "_ma wai koe e kawe mai ki rangitiki?_"--"who shall bring you, or how shall you arrive, at rangitiki?" rangitiki was the name of one of their hill forts. the canoes were fine large ornamented _totara_ canoes, very valuable, capable of carrying from fifty to seventy men each, and much coveted by the ngapuhi. the ngapuhi, of course, considered all these canoes as their own already, but the different chiefs and leaders, anxious to secure one or more of these fine canoes for themselves and people, and not knowing who might be the first to lay hands on them in the confusion of the storming of mokoia, which would take place when their own canoes arrived, each _tapa'd_ one or more for himself, or, as the native expression is, _to_ himself. up jumped pomare, and standing on the lake shore, in front of the encampment of the division of which he was leader, he shouts, pointing at the same time to a particular canoe at the time carrying about sixty men, "that canoe is my back-bone." then tareha, in bulk like a sea-elephant, and sinking to the ankles in the shore of the lake, with a hoarse, croaking voice roars out, "that canoe! my skull shall be the baler to bale it out." this was a horribly strong _tapa_. then the soft voice of the famous hongi ika, surnamed "the eater of men," of _hongi kai tangata_, was heard, "those two canoes are my two thighs." and so the whole flotilla was appropriated by the different chiefs. now it followed from this that in the storming and plunder of mokoia, when a warrior clapped his hand on a canoe and shouted, "this canoe is mine," the seizure would not stand good if it was one of the canoes which were _tapa-tapa_, for it would be a frightful insult to pomare to claim to be the owner of his "back-bone," or to tareha to go on board a canoe which had been made sacred by the bare supposition that his "skull" should be a vessel to bale it with. of course the first man laying his hand on any other canoe, and claiming it, secured it for himself and tribe, always provided that the number of men there present representing his tribe or _hapu_ were sufficient to back his claim, and render it dangerous to dispossess him. i have seen men shamefully robbed, for want of sufficient support, of their honest lawful gains, after all the trouble and risk they had gone to in killing the owners of their plunder. but dishonest people are to be found almost everywhere, and i will say this, that my friends the maoris seldom act against law, and always try to be able to say what they do is "correct" (_tika_). this _tapu_ is a bore, even to write about, and i fear the reader is beginning to think it a bore to read about. it began long before the time of moses, and i think that steam navigation will be the death of it; but lest it should kill my reader, i will have done with it for the present, and "try back," for i have left my story behind completely. chapter xiii. "my rangatira." -- the respective duties of the pakeha and his rangatira. -- public opinion. -- a "pakeha kino." -- description of my rangatira. -- his exploits and misadventures. -- his moral principles. -- decline in the numbers of the natives. -- proofs of former large population. -- ancient forts. -- causes of decrease. when i purchased my land the payment was made on the ground, and immediately divided and subdivided amongst the different sellers. some of them, who, according to their own representations formerly made to me, were the sole and only owners of the land, received for their share about the value of one shilling, and moreover, as i also observed, did not appear at all disappointed. one old _rangatira_, before whom a considerable portion of the payment had been laid as his share of the spoil, gave it a slight shove with his foot, expressive of refusal, and said, "i will not accept any of the payment, i will have the pakeha." i saw some of the magnates present seemed greatly disappointed at this, for i dare say they had expected to have the pakeha as well as the payment. but the old gentleman had regularly checkmated them by refusing to accept any payment, and being also a person of great respectability, _i.e._, a good fighting man, with twenty more at his back, he was allowed to have his way, and thereby, in the opinion of all the natives present, making a far better thing of the land sale than any of them, though he had received no part of the payment. i consequently was therefore a part, and by no means an inconsiderable one, of the payment for my own land; but though now part and parcel of the property of the old _rangatira_ aforementioned, a good deal of liberty was allowed me. the fact of my having become his pakeha made our respective relations and duties to each other about as follows:-- firstly.--at all times, places, and companies my owner had the right to call me "his pakeha." secondly.--he had the general privilege of "pot-luck" whenever he chose to honour my establishment with a visit; said pot-luck to be tumbled out to him on the ground before the house, he being far too great a man to eat out of plates or dishes, or any degenerate invention of that nature; as, if he did, they would all become _tapu_, and of no use to any one but himself, nor indeed to himself either, as he did not see the use of them. thirdly.--it was well understood that to avoid the unpleasant appearance of paying "black mail," and to keep up general kindly relations, my owner should from time to time make me small presents, and that in return i should make him presents of five or six times the value: all this to be done as if arising from mutual love and kindness, and not the slightest allusion to be ever made to the relative value of the gifts on either side (an important article). fourthly.--it was to be a _sine quâ non_ that i must purchase everything the chief or his family had to sell, whether i wanted them or not, and give the highest market price, or rather more. (another very important article.) fifthly.--the chief's own particular pipe never to be allowed to become extinguished for want of the needful supply of tobacco. sixthly.--all desirable jobs of work, and all advantages of all kinds, to be offered first to the family of my _rangatira_ before letting any one else have them; payment for same to be about per cent. more than to any one else, exclusive of a _douceur_ to the chief himself because he did not work. in return for these duties and customs, well and truly performed on my part, the chief was understood to-- firstly.--stick up for me in a general way, and not let me be bullied or imposed upon by any one but himself, as far as he was able to prevent it. secondly.--in case of my being plundered or maltreated by any powerful marauder, it was the duty of my chief to come in hot haste with all his family, armed to the teeth, to my rescue, after all was over, and when it was too late to be of any service. he was also bound on such occasions to make a great noise, dance the war dance, and fire muskets, (i finding the powder,) and to declare loudly what he would have done had he only been in time. i, of course, on such occasions, for my own dignity, and in consideration of the spirited conduct of my friends, was bound to order two or three fat pigs to be killed, and lots of potatoes to be served out to the "army," who were always expected to be starving, as a general rule. a distribution of tobacco, in the way of largess, was also a necessity of the case. thirdly.--in case of my losing anything of consequence by theft--a thing which, as a veracious pakeha, i am bound to say, seldom happened; the natives in those days being, as i have already mentioned, a very law-observing people, (the law of muru,) had, indeed, little occasion to steal, the above-named law answering their purposes in a general way much better, and helping them pretty certainly to any little matter they coveted; yet, as there are exceptions to all rules, theft would sometimes be committed; and then, as i was saying, it became the bounden duty of my _rangatira_ to get the stolen article back if he was able, and keep it for himself for his trouble, unless i gave him something of more value in lieu thereof. under the above regulations things went on pleasantly enough, the chief being restrained, by public opinion and the danger of the pakeha running away from pushing his prerogative to the utmost limit; and the pakeha, on the other hand, making the commonalty pay for the indirect taxation he was subjected to; so that in general, after ten or fifteen years' residence, he would not be much poorer than when he arrived, unless, indeed, some unlucky accident happened, such as pakehas were liable to sometimes in the good old times. mentioning "public opinion" as a restraint on the chiefs' acquisitiveness, i must explain that a chief possessing a pakeha was much envied by his neighbours, who, in consequence, took every opportunity of scandalizing him, and blaming him for any rough plucking process he might submit the said pakeha to; and should he, by any awkward handling of this sort, cause the pakeha at last to run for it, the chief would never hear the end of it from his own family and connections, pakehas being, in those glorious old times, considered to be geese who laid golden eggs, and it would be held to be the very extreme of foolishness and bad policy either to kill them, or, by too rough handling, to cause them to fly away. on the other hand, should the pakeha fail in a culpable manner in the performance of his duties, though he would not, as a rule, be subjected to any stated punishment, he would soon begin to find a most unaccountable train of accidents and all sorts of unpleasant occurrences happening, enough, in the aggregate, to drive job himself out of his wits; and, moreover, he would _get a bad name_, which, though he removed, would follow him from one end of the island to the other, and effectually prevent him having the slightest chance of doing any good,--that is, holding his own in the country, as the natives, wherever he went, would consider him a person out of whom the most was to be made at once, as he was not to be depended on as a source of permanent revenue. i have known several industrious, active, and sober pakeha who never could do any good, and whose life, for a long series of years, was a mere train of mishaps, till at last they were reduced to extreme poverty, merely from having, in their first dealings with the natives, got a bad name, in consequence of not having been able to understand clearly the beauty of the set of regulations i have just mentioned, and from an inability to make them work smoothly. the bad name i have mentioned was short and expressive; wherever they went, there would be sure to be some one who would introduce them to their new acquaintances as "a pakeha _pakeke_"--a hard pakeha; "a pakeha _taehae_"--a miser; or, to sum up all, "a pakeha _kino_." the chief who claimed me was a good specimen of the maori _rangatira_. he was a very old man, and had fought the french when marion, the french circumnavigator, was killed. he had killed a frenchman himself, and carried his thighs and legs many miles as a _bonne bouche_ for his friends at home at the pa. this old gentleman was not head of his tribe. he was a man of good family, related to several high chiefs. he was head of a strong family, or _hapu_, which mustered a considerable number of fighting men, all his near relations. he had been himself a most celebrated fighting man, and a war chief; and was altogether a highly respectable person, and of great weight in the councils of the tribe. i may say i was fortunate in having been appropriated by this old patrician. he gave me very little trouble; did not press his rights and privileges too forcibly on my notice, and in fact behaved in all respects towards me in so liberal and friendly a manner, that before long i began to have a very sincere regard for him, and he to take a sort of paternal interest in me, which was both gratifying to observe, and also extremely comical sometimes, when he, out of real anxiety to see me a perfectly accomplished _rangatira_, would lecture on good manners, etiquette, and the use of the spear. he was, indeed, a model of a _rangatira_, and well worth being described. he was a little man, with a high massive head, and remarkably high square forehead, on which the tattooer had exhausted his art. though, as i have said, of a great age, he was still nimble and active. he had evidently been one of those tough, active men, who, though small in stature, are a match for any one. there was in my old friend's eyes a sort of dull fiery appearance, which, when anything excited him, or when he recounted some of those numerous battles, onslaughts, massacres, or stormings in which all the active part of his life had been spent, actually seemed to blaze up and give forth real fire. his breast was covered with spear-wounds, and he also had two very severe spear-wounds on his head; but he boasted that no single man had ever been able to touch him with the point of a spear. it was in grand _mêlées_, where he would have sometimes six or eight antagonists, that he had received these wounds. he was a great general, and i have heard him criticize closely the order and conduct of every battle of consequence which had been fought for fifty years before my arrival in the country. on these occasions the old "martialist" would draw on the sand the plan of the battle he was criticizing and describing; and in the course of time i began to perceive that, before the introduction of the musket, the art of war had been brought to great perfection by the natives: and that, when large numbers were engaged in a pitched battle, the order of battle resembled, in a most striking manner, some of the most approved orders of battle of the ancients. since the introduction of firearms the natives have entirely altered their tactics, and adopted a system better adapted to the new weapon and the nature of the country. my old friend had a great hatred for the musket. he said that in battles fought with the musket there were never so many men killed as when, in his young days, men fought hand to hand with the spear; when a good warrior would kill six, eight, ten, or even twenty men in a single fight; for when once the enemy broke and commenced to run, the combatants being so close together, a fast runner would knock a dozen on the head in a short time; and the great aim of these fast-running warriors, of whom my old friend had been one, was to chase straight on and never stop, only striking one blow at one man, so as to cripple him, so that those behind should be sure to overtake and finish him. it was not uncommon for one man, strong and swift of foot, when the enemy were fairly routed, to stab with a light spear ten or a dozen men in such a way as to ensure their being overtaken and killed. on one occasion of this kind my old tutor had the misfortune to stab a running man in the back. he did it, of course, scientifically, so as to stop his running, and as he passed him by he perceived it was his wife's brother. he was finished immediately by the men close behind. i should have said the man was a brother of one of my friend's four wives, which being the case, i dare say he had a sufficient number of brothers-in-law to afford to kill one now and then. a worse mishap, however, occurred to him on another occasion. he was returning from a successful expedition from the south (in the course of which, by-the-bye, he and his men killed and cooked several men of the enemy in shortland crescent, and forced three others to jump over a cliff, which is, i think, now called soldier's point), when off the mahurangi a smoke was seen rising from amongst the trees near the beach. they at once concluded that it came from the fires of people belonging to that part of the country, and who they considered as game. they therefore waited till night, concealing their canoes behind some rocks, and when it became dark landed; they then divided into two parties, took the supposed enemy completely by surprise, attacked, rushing upon them from two opposite directions at once. my _rangatira_, dashing furiously among them, and, as i can well suppose, those eyes of his flashing fire, had the happiness of once again killing the first man, and being authorized to shout, "_ki au te mataika!_" a few more blows, the parties recognize each other: they are friends!--men of the same tribe! who is the last _mataika_ slain by this famous warrior? quick, bring a flaming brand; here he lies dead! ha! it is his father! now an ancient knight of romance, under similar awkward circumstances, would probably have retired from public life, sought out some forest cave, where he would have hung up his armour, let his beard grow, flogged himself twice a day "regular," and lived on "pulse," which, i suppose, means pea-soup, for the rest of his life. but my old _rangatira_ and his companions had not a morsel of that sort of romance about them. the killing of my friend's father was looked upon as a very clever exploit in itself, though a very unlucky one. so after having scolded one another for some time, one party telling the other they were served right for not keeping a better look out, and the other answering that they should have been sure who they were going to attack before making the onset, they all held a _tangi_ or lamentation for the old warrior who had just received his _mittimus_; and then killing a prisoner, who they had brought in the canoes for fresh provisions, they had a good feast; after which they returned all together to their own country, taking the body of their lamented relative along with them. this happened many years before i came to the country, and when my _rangatira_ was one of the most famous fighting men in his tribe. this maori _rangatira_, who i am describing, had passed his whole life, with but little intermission, in a scene of battle, murder, and bloodthirsty atrocities of the most terrific description, mixed with actions of the most heroic courage, self-sacrifice, and chivalric daring, as leaves one perfectly astounded to find them the deeds of one and the same people--one day doing acts which had they been performed in ancient greece would have immortalized the actors, and the next committing barbarities too horrible for relation, and almost incredible. the effect of a life of this kind was observable, plainly enough, in my friend. he was utterly devoid of what weak mortals call "compassion." he seemed to have no more feeling for the pain, tortures, or death of others than a stone. should one of his family be dying or wounded, he merely felt it as the loss of one fighting man. as for the death of a woman or any non-combatant, he did not feel it at all, though the person might have suffered horrid tortures; indeed i have seen him scolding severely a fine young man, his near relative, when actually expiring, for being such a fool as to blow himself up by accident, and deprive his family of a fighting man. the last words the dying man heard were these:--"it serves you right. there you are, looking very like a burnt stick! it serves you right--a burnt stick! serves you right!" it really _was_ vexatious. a fine stout young fellow to be wasted in that way. as for fear, i saw one or two instances to prove he knew very little about it; and, indeed, to be killed in battle, seemed to him a natural death, and he was always grumbling that the young men thought of nothing but trading: and whenever he proposed to them to take him where he might have a final battle (_he riri wakamutunga_), where he might escape dying of old age, they always kept saying, "wait till we get more muskets," or "more gunpowder," or more something or another, "as if men could not be killed without muskets!" he was not cruel either; he was only unfeeling. he had been guilty, it is true, in his time, of what we would call terrific atrocities to his prisoners, which he calmly and calculatingly perpetrated as _utu_ or retaliation for similar barbarities committed by them or their tribe. and here i must retract the word guilty, which i see i have written inadvertently, for according to the morals and principles of the people of whom he was one, and of the time to which he belonged, and the training he had received, so far from being guilty, he did a praiseworthy, glorious, and public-spirited action when he opened the jugular vein of a bound captive and sucked huge draughts of his blood. to say the truth he was a very nice old man, and i liked him very much. it would not, however, be advisable to put him in a passion; not much good would be likely to arise from it, as indeed i could show by one or two very striking instances which came under my notice, though to say the truth he was not easily put out of temper. he had one great moral rule,--it was indeed his rule of life,--he held that every man had a right to do everything and anything he chose, provided he was able and willing to stand the consequences, though he thought some men fools for trying to do things which they could not carry out pleasantly, and which ended in getting them baked. i once hinted to him that, should every one reduce these principles to practice, he himself might find it awkward, particularly as he had so many mortal enemies. to which he replied, with a look which seemed to pity my ignorance, that every one _did_ practise this rule to the best of their abilities, but that some were not so able as others; and that as for his enemies, he should take care they never surprised _him_; a surprise being, indeed, the only thing he seemed to have any fear at all of. in truth he had occasion to look out sharp; he never was known to sleep more than three or four nights in the same place, and often, when there were ill omens, he would not sleep in a house at all, or two nights following in one place, for a month together, and i never saw him without both spear and tomahawk, and ready to defend himself at a second's notice, a state of preparation perfectly necessary, for though in his own country and surrounded by his tribe, his death would have been such a triumph for hundreds, not of distant enemies, but of people within a day's journey, that none could tell at what moment some stout young fellow in search of _utu_ and a "_ingoa toa_" (a warlike reputation) might rush upon him, determined to have his head or leave his own. the old buck himself had, indeed, performed several exploits of this nature, the last of which occurred just at the time i came into the country, but before i had the advantage of his acquaintance. his tribe were at war with some people at the distance of about a day's journey. one of their villages was on the border of a dense forest. my _rangatira_, then a very old man, started off alone, and without saying a word to any one, took his way through the forest which extended the whole way between his village and the enemy, crept like a lizard into the enemy's village, and then, shouting his war cry, dashed amongst a number of people he saw sitting together on the ground, and who little expected such a salute. in a minute he had run three men and one woman through the body, received five dangerous spear-wounds himself, and escaped to the forest, and finally got safe home to his own country and people. truly my old _rangatira_ was a man of a thousand,--a model _rangatira_. this exploit, if possible, added to his reputation, and every one said his _mana_ would never decline. the enemy had been panic-stricken, thinking a whole tribe were upon them, and fled like a flock of sheep, except the three men who were killed. they all attacked my old chief at once, and were all disposed of in less than a minute, after, as i have said, giving him five desperate wounds. the woman was just "stuck," as a matter of course, as she came in his way. the natives are unanimous in affirming that they were much more numerous in former times than they are now, and i am convinced that such was the case, for the following reasons. the old hill forts are many of them so large that an amount of labour must have been expended in trenching, terracing, and fencing them, and all without iron tools, which increased the difficulty a hundred-fold, which must have required a vastly greater population to accomplish than can be now found in the surrounding districts. these forts were also of such an extent that, taking into consideration the system of attack and defence used necessarily in those times, they would have been utterly untenable unless held by at least ten times the number of men the whole surrounding districts, for two or three days' journey, can produce; and yet, when we remember that in those times of constant war, being the two centuries preceding the arrival of the europeans, the natives always, as a rule, slept in these hill forts with closed gates, bridges over trenches removed, and ladders of terraces drawn up, we must come to the conclusion that the inhabitants of the fort, though so numerous, were merely the population of the country in the close vicinity. now from the top of one of these pointed, trenched, and terraced hills, i have counted twenty others, all of equally large dimensions, and all within a distance, in every direction, of fifteen to twenty miles; and native tradition affirms that each of these hills was the stronghold of a separate _hapu_ or clan, bearing its distinctive name. there is also the most unmistakeable evidence that vast tracts of country, which have lain wild time out of mind, were once fully cultivated. the ditches for draining the land are still traceable, and large pits are to be seen in hundreds, on the tops of the dry hills, all over the northern part of the north island, in which the _kumera_ were once stored; and these pits are, in the greatest number, found in the centre of great open tracts of uncultivated country, where a rat in the present day would hardly find subsistence. the old drains, and the peculiar growth of the timber, mark clearly the extent of these ancient cultivations. it is also very observable that large tracts of very inferior land have been in cultivation, which would lead to the inference that either the population was pretty nearly proportioned to the extent of available land, or that the tracts of inferior land were cultivated merely because they were not too far removed from the fort; for the shape of the hill, and its capability of defence and facility of fortification, was of more consequence than the fertility of the surrounding country. these _kumera_ pits, being dug generally in the stiff clay on the hill tops, have, in most cases, retained their shape perfectly, and many seem as fresh and new as if they had been dug but a few years. they are oblong in shape, with the sides regularly sloped. many collections of these provision stores have outlived maori tradition, and the natives can only conjecture who they belonged to. out of the centre of one of them which i have seen, there is now growing a kauri tree one hundred and twenty feet high, and out of another a large totara. the outline of these pits is as perfect as the day they were dug, and the sides have not fallen in in the slightest degree, from which perhaps they have been preserved by the absence of frost, as well as by a beautiful coating of moss, by which they are everywhere covered. the pit in which the kauri grew, had been partially filled up by the scaling off of the bark of the tree, which falling off in patches, as it is constantly doing, had raised a mound of decaying bark round the root of the tree. another evidence of a very large number of people having once inhabited these hill forts is the number of houses they contained. every native house, it appears, in former times as in the present, had a fire-place composed of four flat stones or flags sunk on their edges into the ground, so as to form an oblong case or trunk, in which at night a fire to heat the house was made. now, in two of the largest hill forts i have examined, though for ages no vestige of a house had been seen, there remained the fire-places--the four stones projecting like an oblong box slightly over the ground--and from their position and number denoting clearly that, large as the circumference of the huge volcanic hill was which formed the fortress, the number of families inhabiting it necessitated the strictest economy of room. the houses had been arranged in streets, or double rows, with a path between them, except in places where there had been only room on a terrace for a single row. the distances between the fire-places proved that the houses in the rows must have been as close together as it was possible to build them, and every spot, from the foot to the hill top, not required and specially planned for defensive purposes, had been built on in this regular manner. even the small flat top, sixty yards long by forty wide,--the citadel,--on which the greatest care and labour had been bestowed to render it difficult of access, had been as full of houses as it could hold, leaving a small space all round the precipitous bank for the defenders to stand on. these little fire-places, and the scarped and terraced conical hills, are the only marks the maori of ancient times have left of their existence. and i have reasons for believing that this country has been inhabited from a more remote period by far than is generally supposed. these reasons i found upon the dialect of the maori language spoken by the maori of new zealand, as well as on many other circumstances. we may easily imagine that a hill of this kind, covered from bottom to top with houses thatched and built of reeds, rushes, and raupo, would be a mere mass of combustible matter, and such indeed was the case. when an enemy attacked one of these places a common practice was to shower red-hot stones from slings into the place, which, sinking into the dry thatch of the houses, would cause a general conflagration. should this once occur the place was sure to be taken, and this mode of attack was much feared; all hands not engaged at the outer defences, and all women and non-combatants, were employed guarding against this danger, and pouring water out of calabashes on every smoke that appeared. the natives also practised both mining and escalade in attacking a hill fort. the natives attribute their decrease in numbers, before the arrival of the europeans, to war and sickness, disease possibly arising from the destruction of food and the forced neglect of cultivation caused by the constant and furious wars which devastated the country for a long period before the arrival of the europeans, in such a manner that the natives at last believed that a constant state of warfare was the natural condition of life, and their sentiments, feelings, and maxims became gradually formed on this belief. nothing was so valuable or respectable as strength and courage, and to acquire property by war and plunder was more honourable and also more desirable than by labour. cannibalism was glorious. the island was a pandemonium. a rugged wight, the worst of brutes, was man; on his own wretched kind he ruthless prey'd. the strongest then the weakest overran, in every country mighty robbers sway'd, and guile and ruffian force was all their trade. since the arrival of the europeans the decrease of the natives has also been rapid. in that part of the country where i have had means of accurate observation, they have decreased in number since my arrival rather more than one-third. i have, however, observed that this decrease has for the last ten years been very considerably checked, though i do not believe this improvement is general through the country, or even permanent where i have observed it. the first grand cause of the decrease of the natives since the arrival of the europeans is the musket. the nature of the ancient maori weapons prompted them to seek out vantage ground, and to take up positions on precipitous hill tops, and make those high, dry, airy situations their regular fixed residences. their ordinary course of life, when not engaged in warfare, was regular, and not necessarily unhealthy. their labour, though constant in one shape or other, and compelled by necessity, was not too heavy. in the morning, but not early, they descended from the hill pa to the cultivations in the low ground; they went in a body, armed like men going to battle, the spear or club in one hand, and the agricultural instrument in the other. the women followed. long before night (it was counted unlucky to work till dark) they returned to the hill with a reversed order, the women now, and slaves, and lads, bearing fuel and water for the night, in front; they also bore probably heavy loads of _kumera_ or other provisions. in the time of year when the crops did not call for their attention, when they were planted and growing, then the whole tribe would remove to some fortified hill, at the side of some river, or on the coast, where they would pass months fishing, making nets, clubs, spears, and implements of various descriptions; the women, in all spare time, making mats for clothing, or baskets to carry the crop of _kumera_ in, when fit to dig. there was very little idleness; and to be called "lazy" was a great reproach. it is to be observed that for several months the crops could be left thus unguarded with perfect safety, for the maori, as a general rule, never destroyed growing crops or attacked their owners in a regular manner until the crops were nearly at full perfection, so that they might afford subsistence to the invaders, and consequently the end of the summer all over the country was a time of universal preparation for battle, either offensive or defensive, the crops then being near maturity. now when the natives became generally armed with the musket they at once abandoned the hills, and, to save themselves the great labour and inconvenience occasioned by the necessity of continually carrying provisions, fuel, and water to these precipitous hill-castles--which would be also, as a matter of necessity, at some inconvenient distance from at least some part of the extensive cultivations--descended to the low lands, and there, in the centre of the cultivations, erected a new kind of fortification adapted to the capabilities of the new weapon. _this_ was their destruction. there in mere swamps they built their oven-like houses, where the water even in summer sprung with the pressure of the foot, and where in winter the houses were often completely flooded. there, lying on the spongy soil, on beds of rushes which rotted under them--in little, low dens of houses, or kennels, heated like ovens at night and dripping with damp in the day--full of noxious exhalations from the damp soil, and impossible to ventilate--they were cut off by disease in a manner absolutely frightful. no advice would they take; they could not _see_ the enemy which killed them, and therefore could not believe the europeans who pointed out the cause of their destruction. this change of residence was universal and everywhere followed by the same consequences, more or less marked; the strongest men were cut off and but few children were reared. and even now, after the dreadful experience they have had, and all the continual remonstrances of their pakeha friends, they take but very little more precaution in choosing sites for their houses than at first; and when a native village or a native house happens to be in a dry, healthy situation, it is often more the effect of accident than design. twenty years ago a _hapu_, in number just forty persons, removed their _kainga_ from a dry, healthy position, to the edge of a _raupo_ swamp. i happened to be at the place a short time after the removal, and with me there was a medical gentleman who was travelling through the country. in creeping into one of the houses (the chief's) through the low door, i was obliged to put both my hands to the ground; they both sunk into the swampy soil, making holes which immediately filled with water. the chief and his family were lying on the ground on rushes, and a fire was burning, which made the little den, not in the highest place more than five feet high, feel like an oven. i called the attention of my friend to the state of this place called a "house." he merely said, "_men_ cannot live here." eight years from that day the whole _hapu_ were extinct; but, as i remember, two persons were shot for bewitching them and causing their deaths. many other causes combined at the same time to work the destruction of the natives. next to the change of residence from the high and healthy hill forts to the low grounds, was the hardship, over-labour, exposure, and half-starvation, to which they submitted themselves--firstly, to procure these very muskets which enabled them to make the fatal change of residence, and afterwards to procure the highly and justly valued iron implements of the europeans. when we reflect that a ton of cleaned flax was the price paid for two muskets, and at an earlier date for one musket, we can see at once the dreadful exertion necessary to obtain it. but supposing a man to get a musket for half a ton of flax, another half ton would be required for ammunition; and in consequence, as every man in a native _hapu_, of say a hundred men, was absolutely forced on pain of death to procure a musket and ammunition at any cost, and at the earliest possible moment (for if they did not procure them extermination was their doom by the hands of those of their countrymen who had), the effect was that this small _hapu_, or clan, had to manufacture, spurred by the penalty of death, in the shortest possible time, one hundred tons of flax, scraped by hand with a shell, bit by bit, morsel by morsel, half-quarter of an ounce at a time. now as the natives, when undisturbed and labouring regularly at their cultivations, were never far removed from necessity or scarcity of food, we may easily imagine the distress and hardship caused by this enormous imposition of extra labour. they were obliged to neglect their crops in a very serious degree, and for many months in the year were in a half-starving condition, working hard all the time in the flax swamps. the insufficient food, over-exertion, and unwholesome locality, killed them fast. as for the young children, they almost all died; and this state of things continued for many years: for it was long after being supplied with arms and ammunition before the natives could purchase, by similar exertion, the various agricultural implements, and other iron tools so necessary to them; and it must always be remembered, if we wish to understand the difficulties and over-labour the natives were subjected to, that while undergoing this immense extra toil, they were at the same time obliged to maintain themselves by cultivating the ground with sharpened sticks, not being able to afford to purchase iron implements in any useful quantity, till first the great, pressing, paramount want of muskets and gunpowder had been supplied. thus continual excitement, over-work, and insufficient food, exposure, and unhealthy places of residence, together with a general breaking up of old habits of life, thinned their numbers. european diseases also assisted, but not to any very serious degree; till in the part of the country in which, as i have before stated, i have had means to observe with exactitude, the natives have decreased in numbers over one-third since i first saw them. that this rapid decrease has been checked in some districts, i am sure, and the cause is not a mystery. the influx of europeans has caused a competition in trading, which enables them to get the highest value for the produce of their labour, and at the same time opened to them a hundred new lines of industry, and also afforded them other opportunities of becoming possessed of property. they have not at all improved these advantages as they might have done; but are, nevertheless, as it were in spite of themselves, on the whole, richer--_i.e._, better clothed, fed, and in some degree lodged, than in past years; and i see the plough now running where i once saw the rude pointed stick poking the ground. i do not, however, believe that this improvement exists in more than one or two districts in any remarkable degree, nor do i think it will be permanent where it does exist, insomuch as i have said that the improvement is not the result of providence, economy, or industry, but of a train of temporary circumstances favourable to the natives; but which, if unimproved, as they most probably will be, will end in no permanent good result. chapter xiv. trading in the old times. -- the native difficulty. -- virtue its own reward. -- rule britannia. -- death of my chief. -- his dying speech. -- rescue. -- how the world goes round. from the years to , the vessels trading for flax had, when at anchor, boarding nettings up to the tops. all the crew were armed, and, as a standing rule, not more than five natives, on any pretence, allowed on board at one time. trading for flax in those days was to be undertaken by a man who had his wits about him; and an old flax trader of those days, with his ton schooner "out of sydney," cruising all round the coast of new zealand, picking up his five tons at one port, ten at another, twenty at another, and so on, had questions, commercial, diplomatic, and military, to solve every day, that would drive all the "native department," with the minister at their head, clean out of their senses. talk to me of the "native difficulty"--pooh! i think it was in that an old friend of mine bought, at kawhia, a woman who was just going to be baked. he gave a cartridge-box full of cartridges for her, which was a great deal more than she was really worth; but humanity does not stick at trifles. he took her back to her friends at taranaki, from whence she had been taken, and her friends there gave him at once two tons of flax and eighteen pigs, and asked him to remain a few days longer till they should collect a still larger present in return for his kindness; but, as he found out their intention was to take the schooner, and knock himself and crew on the head, he made off in the night. but he maintains to this day that "virtue is its own reward"--"at least 'tis so at taranaki." virtue, however, must have been on a visit to some other country, (she _does_ go out sometimes,) when i saw and heard a british subject, a slave to some natives on the west coast, begging hard for somebody to buy him. the price asked was one musket, but the only person on board the vessel possessing those articles preferred to invest in a different commodity. the consequence was, that the above-mentioned unit of the great british nation lived, and ("rule britannia" to the contrary notwithstanding) died a slave; but whether he was buried, deponent sayeth not. my old _rangatira_ at last began to show signs that his time to leave this world of care was approaching. he had arrived at a great age, and a rapid and general breaking up of his strength became plainly observable. he often grumbled that men should grow old, and oftener that no great war broke out in which he might make a final display, and die with _éclât_. the last two years of his life were spent almost entirely at my house, which, however, he never entered. he would sit whole days on a fallen puriri near the house, with his spear sticking up beside him, and speaking to no one, but sometimes humming in a low droning tone some old ditty which no one knew the meaning of but himself, and at night he would disappear to some of the numerous nests or little sheds he had around the place. in summer he would roll himself in his blanket and sleep anywhere, but no one could tell exactly where. in the hot days of summer, when his blood i suppose got a little warm, he would sometimes become talkative, and recount the exploits of his youth. as he warmed to the subject he would seize his spear and go through all the incidents of some famous combat, repeating every thrust, blow, and parry as they actually occurred, and going through as much exertion as if he was really and truly fighting for his life. he used to go through these pantomimic labours as a duty whenever he had an assemblage of the young men of the tribe around him, to whom, as well as to myself, he was most anxious to communicate that which he considered the most valuable of all knowledge, a correct idea of the uses of the spear, a weapon he really used in a most graceful and scientific manner; but he would ignore the fact that "young new zealand" had laid down the weapon for ever, and already matured a new system of warfare adapted to their new weapons, and only listened to his lectures out of respect to himself and not for his science. at last this old lion was taken seriously ill and removed permanently to the village, and one evening a smart handsome lad, of about twelve years of age, came to tell me that his _tupuna_ was dying, and had said he would "go" to-morrow, and had sent for me to see him before he died. the boy also added that the tribe were _ka poto_, or assembled, to the last man around the dying chief. i must here mention that, though this old _rangatira_ was not the head of his tribe, he had been for about half a century the recognized war chief of almost all the sections or _hapu_ of a very numerous and warlike _iwi_ or tribe, who had now assembled from all their distant villages and pas to see him die. i could not, of course, neglect the invitation, so at daylight next morning i started on foot for the native village, which i, on my arrival about mid-day, found crowded by a great assemblage of natives. i was saluted by the usual _haere mai!_ and a volley of musketry, and i at once perceived that, out of respect to my old owner, the whole tribe from far and near, hundreds of whom i had never seen, considered it necessary to make much of me,--at least for that day,--and i found myself consequently at once in the position of a "personage." "here comes the pakeha!--_his_ pakeha!--make way for the pakeha!--kill those dogs that are barking at the pakeha!" bang! bang! here a double barrel nearly blew my cap off by way of salute. i did for a moment think my head was off. i, however, being quite _au fait_ in maori etiquette by this time, thanks to the instructions and example of my old friend, fixed my eyes with a vacant expression looking only straight before me, recognized nobody, and took notice of nothing, not even the muskets fired under my nose or close to my back at every step, and each, from having four or five charges of powder, making a report like a cannon. on i stalked, looking neither to the right or the left, with my spear walking-staff in my hand, to where i saw a great crowd, and where i of course knew the dying man was. i walked straight on, not even pretending to see the crowd, as was "correct" under the circumstances; i being supposed to be entranced by the one absorbing thought of seeing "mataora," or once more in life my _rangatira_. the crowd divided as i came up, and closed again behind me as i stood in the front rank before the old chief, motionless, and, as in duty bound, trying to look the image of mute despair, which i flatter myself i did to the satisfaction of all parties. the old man i saw at once was at his last hour. he had dwindled to a mere skeleton. no food of any kind had been prepared for or offered to him for three days; as he was dying it was of course considered unnecessary. at his right side lay his spear, tomahawk, and musket. (i never saw him with the musket in his hand all the time i knew him.) over him was hanging his greenstone _mere_, and at his left side, close, and touching him, sat a stout, athletic savage, with a countenance disgustingly expressive of cunning and ferocity, and who, as he stealthily marked me from the corner of his eye, i recognized as one of those limbs of satan, a maori _tohunga_. the old man was propped up in a reclining position, his face towards the assembled tribe, who were all there waiting to catch his last words. i stood before him, and i thought i perceived he recognized me. still all was silence, and for a full half hour we all stood there, waiting patiently for the closing scene. once or twice the _tohunga_ said to him in a very loud voice, "the tribe are assembled, you won't die silent?" at last, after about half an hour, he became restless, his eyes rolled from side to side, and he tried to speak, but failed. the circle of men closed nearer, and there was evidence of anxiety and expectation amongst them, but a dead silence was maintained. at last, suddenly, without any apparent effort, and in a manner which startled me, the old man spoke clearly out, in the ringing metallic tone of voice for which he had been formerly so remarkable, particularly when excited. he spoke. "hide my bones quickly where the enemy may not find them: hide them at once." he spoke again--"oh my tribe, be brave! be brave that you may live. listen to the words of my pakeha; he will unfold the designs of his tribe." this was in allusion to a very general belief amongst the natives at the time, that the europeans designed sooner or later to exterminate them and take the country, a thing the old fellow had cross-questioned me about a thousand times; and the only way i could find to ease his mind was to tell him that if ever i heard any such proposal i would let him know, protesting at the same time that no such intention existed. this notion of the natives has since that time done much harm, and will do more, for it is not yet quite given up. he continued--"i give my _mere_ to my pakeha,"--"my two old wives will hang themselves,"--(here a howl of assent from the two old women in the rear rank)--"i am going; be brave, after i am gone." here he began to rave; he fancied himself in some desperate battle, for he began to call to celebrated comrades who had been dead forty or fifty years. i remember every word--"charge!" shouted he--"charge! _wata_, charge! _tara_, charge! charge!" then after a short pause--"rescue! rescue! to my rescue! _ahau! ahau! rescue!_" the last cry for "rescue" was in such a piercing tone of anguish and utter desperation, that involuntarily i advanced a foot and hand, as if starting to his assistance; a movement, as i found afterwards, not unnoticed by the superstitious tribe. at the same instant that he gave the last despairing and most agonizing cry for "rescue," i saw his eyes actually blaze, his square jaw locked, he set his teeth, and rose nearly to a sitting position, and then fell back dying. he only murmured--"how sweet is man's flesh," and then the gasping breath and upturned eye announced the last moment. the _tohunga_ now bending close to the dying man's ear, roared out "_kai kotahi ki te ao! kia kotahi ki te ao! kia kotahi ki te po!_" the poor savage was now, as i believe, past hearing, and gasping his last. "_kai kotahi ki te ao!_"--shouted the devil priest again in his ear, and shaking his shoulder roughly with his hand--"_kia kotahi ki te ao!--kai kotahi ki te po!_" then giving a significant look to the surrounding hundreds of natives, a roar of musketry burst forth. _kai kotahi ki te ao!_ thus in a din like pandemonium, guns firing, women screaming, and the accursed _tohunga_ shouting in his ear, died "lizard skin," as good a fighting man as ever worshipped force or trusted in the spear. his death on the whole was thought happy, for his last words were full of good omen:--"how sweet is man's flesh." next morning the body had disappeared. this was contrary to ordinary custom, but in accordance with the request of the old warrior. no one, even of his own tribe, knows where his body is concealed, but the two men who carried it off in the night. all i know is that it lies in a cave, with the spear and tomahawk beside it. the two old wives were hanging by the neck from a scaffold at a short distance, which had been made to place potatoes on out of the reach of rats. the shrivelled old creatures were quite dead. i was for a moment forgetful of the "correct" thing, and called to an old chief, who was near, to cut them down. he said, in answer to my hurried call, "by-and-bye; it is too soon yet; _they might recover_." "oh," said i, at once recalled to my sense of propriety, "i thought they had been hanging all night," and thus escaped the great risk of being thought a mere meddling pakeha. i now perceived the old chief was employed making a stretcher, or _kauhoa_, to carry the bodies on. at a short distance also were five old creatures of women, sitting in a row, crying, with their eyes fixed on the hanging objects, and everything was evidently going on _selon les règles_. i walked on. "_e tika ana_," said i, to myself. "it's all right, i dare say." the two young wives had also made a desperate attempt in the night to hang themselves, but had been prevented by two young men, who, by some unaccountable accident, had come upon them just as they were stringing themselves up, and who, seeing that they were not actually "ordered for execution," by great exertion, and with the assistance of several female relations, who they called to their assistance, prevented them from killing themselves out of respect for their old lord. perhaps it was to revenge themselves for this meddling interference that these two young women married the two young men before the year was out, and in consequence of which, and as a matter of course, they were robbed by the tribe of everything they had in the world, (which was not much,) except their arms. they also had to fight some half dozen duels each with spears, in which, however, no one was killed, and no more blood drawn than could be well spared. all this they went through with commendable resignation; and so, due respect having been paid to the memory of the old chief, and the appropriators of his widows duly punished according to law, further proceedings were stayed, and everything went on comfortably. and so the world goes round. chapter xv. mana. -- young new zealand. -- the law of england. -- "pop goes the weasel." -- right if we have might. -- god save the queen. -- good advice. in the afternoon i went home musing on what i had heard and seen. "surely," thought i, "if one half of the world does not know how the other half live, neither do they know how they die." some days after this a deputation arrived to deliver up my old friend's _mere_. it was a weapon of great _mana_, and was delivered with some little ceremony. i perceive now i have written this word _mana_ several times, and think i may as well explain what it means. i think this the more necessary as the word has been bandied about a good deal of late years, and meanings often attached to it by europeans which are incorrect, but which the natives sometimes accept because it suits their purpose. this same word _mana_ has several different meanings, and the difference between these diverse meanings is sometimes very great, and sometimes only a mere shade of meaning, though one very necessary to observe; and it is, therefore, quite impossible to find any one single word in english, or in any other language that i have any acquaintance with, which will give the meaning of _mana_. and, moreover, though i myself do know all the meanings and different shades of meaning properly belonging to the word, i find a great difficulty in explaining them; but as i have begun, the thing must be done. it will also be a tough word disposed of to my hand, when i come to write my maori dictionary, in a hundred volumes, which, if i begin soon, i hope to have finished before the maori is a dead language. now then for _mana_. _virtus_, _prestige_, authority, good fortune, influence, sanctity, luck, are all words which, under certain conditions, give something near the meaning of _mana_, though not one of them give it exactly; but before i am done, the reader shall have a reasonable notion (for a pakeha) of what it is. _mana_ sometimes means a more than natural virtue or power attaching to some person or thing, different from and independent of the ordinary natural conditions of either, and capable of either increase or diminution, both from known and unknown causes. the _mana_ of a priest or _tohunga_ is proved by the truth of his predictions, as well as the success of his incantations, _which same incantations, performed by another person, of inferior mana, would have no effect_. consequently, this description of _mana_ is a virtue, or more than natural or ordinary condition attaching to the priest himself, and which he may become possessed of and also lose without any volition of his own. when "apollo from his shrine, no longer could divine, the hollow steep of delphos sadly leaving,"-- _then_ the oracle had lost its _mana_. then there is the doctor's _mana_. the maori doctors in the old times did not deal much in "simples," but they administered large doses of _mana_. now when most of a doctor's patients recovered, his _mana_ was supposed to be in full feather; but if, as will happen sometimes to the best practitioners, a number of patients should slip through his fingers _seriatim_, then his _mana_ was suspected to be getting weak, and he would not be liable to be "knocked up" as frequently as formerly. _mana_ in another sense is the accompaniment of power, but not the power itself; nor is it even in this sense exactly "authority," according to the strict meaning of that word, though it comes very near it. this is the chief's _mana_. let him lose the power, and the _mana_ is gone; but mind you do not translate _mana_ as power; that won't do: they are two different things entirely. of this nature also is the _mana_ of a tribe; but this is not considered to be the supernatural kind of _mana_. then comes the _mana_ of a warrior. uninterrupted success in war proves it. it has a _slight_ touch of the supernatural, but not much. good fortune comes near the meaning, but is just a little too weak. the warrior's _mana_ is just a little something more than bare good fortune; a severe defeat would shake it terribly; two or three in succession would show that it was gone: but before leaving him, some supernaturally ominous occurrence might be expected to take place, such as are said to have happened before the deaths of julius cæsar, marcus antonius, or brutus. let not any one smile at my, even in the most distant way, comparing the old maori warriors with these illustrious romans, for if they do, i shall answer that some of the old maori _toa_, were thought as much of in _their_ world, as any greek or roman of old was in his; and, moreover, that it is my private opinion, that if the best of them could only have met my friend "lizard skin," in his best days, and would take off his armour and fight fair, that the aforesaid "lizard skin" would have tickled him to his heart's content with the point of his spear. a fortress often assailed but never taken has a _mana_, and one of a high description too. the name of the fortress becomes a _pepeha_, a war boast or motto, and a war cry of encouragement or defiance, like the _slogan_ of the ancient highlanders in scotland. a spear, a club, or a _mere_, may have a _mana_, which in most cases means that it is a lucky weapon which good fortune attends, if the bearer minds what he is about; but some weapons of the old times had a stronger _mana_ than this, like the _mana_ of the enchanted weapons we read of in old romances or fairy tales. let any one who likes give an english word for this kind of _mana_. i have done with it. i had once a tame pig, which, before heavy rain, would always cut extraordinary capers and squeak like mad. every pakeha said he was "weather-wise;" but all the maori said it was a "_poaka whai mana_," a pig possessed of _mana_; _it had more than natural powers_ and could foretell rain. if ever this talk about the good old times be printed and published, and every one buy it, and read it, and quote it, and believe every word in it, as they ought, seeing that every word is true, then it will be a _puka puka whai mana_, a book of _mana_; and i shall have a high opinion of the good sense and good taste of the new zealand public. when the law of england is the law of new zealand, and the queen's writ will run, then both the queen and the law will have great _mana_; but i don't think either will ever happen, and so neither will have any _mana_ of consequence. if the reader has not some faint notion of _mana_ by this time, i can't help it; i can't do any better for him. i must confess i have not pleased myself. any european language can be translated easily enough into any other; but to translate maori into english is much harder to do than is supposed by those who do it every day with ease, but who do not know their own language or any other but maori perfectly. i am always blowing up "young new zealand," and calling them "reading, riting, rethmatiking" vagabonds, who will never equal their fathers; but i mean it all for their own good--(poor things!)--like a father scolding his children. but one _does_ get vexed sometimes. their grandfathers, if they had no backs, had at least good legs, but the grandsons can't walk a day's journey to save their lives; _they_ must _ride_. the other day i saw a young chap on a good horse; he had a black hat and polished wellingtons; his hat was cocked knowingly to one side; he was jogging along, with one hand jingling the money in his pocket; and may i never see another war dance, if the hardened villain was not whistling "pop goes the weasel!" what will all this end in? my only hope is in a handy way (to give them their due) which they have with a _tupara_; and this is why i don't think the law will have much _mana_ here in my time,--i mean the _pakeha_ law; for to say the worst of them, they are not yet so far demoralized as to stand any nonsense of that kind, which is a comfort to think of. i am a loyal subject to queen victoria, but i am also a member of a maori tribe; and i hope i may never see this country so enslaved and tamed that a single rascally policeman, with nothing but a bit of paper in his hand, can come and take a _rangatira_ away from the middle of his _hapu_, and have him hanged for something of no consequence at all, except that it is against the law. what would old "lizard skin" say to it? his grandson certainly is now a magistrate, and if anything is stolen from a pakeha, he will get it back, _if he can_, and won't stick to it, because he gets a salary in lieu thereof; but he has told me certain matters in confidence, and which i therefore cannot disclose. i can only hint there was something said about the law, and driving the pakeha into the sea. i must not trust myself to write on these matters. i get so confused, i feel just as if i was two different persons at the same time. sometimes i find myself thinking on the maori side, and then just afterwards wondering if "we" can lick the maori, and set the law upon its legs, which is the only way to do it. i therefore hope the reader will make allowance for any little apparent inconsistency in my ideas, as i really cannot help it. i belong to both parties, and i don't care a straw which wins; but i am sure we shall have fighting. men _must_ fight; or else what are they made for? twenty years ago, when i heard military men talking of "marching through new zealand with fifty men," i was called a fool because i said they could not do it with five hundred. now i am also thought foolish by civilians, because i say we can conquer new zealand with our present available means, if we set the right way about it (which we won't). so hurrah again for the maori! we shall drive the pakeha into the sea, and send the law after them! if we can do it, we are right; and if the pakeha beat us, _they_ will be right too. god save the queen! so now, my maori tribe, and also my pakeha countrymen, i shall conclude this book with good advice; and be sure you take notice; it is given to _both parties_. it is a sentence from the last speech of old "lizard skin." it is to you both. "be brave, that you may _live_." verbum sapienti. history of the war in the north of new zealand against the chief heke, in the year ; told by an old chief of the ngapuhi tribe. preface. this little tale is an endeavour to call back some shadows from the past: a picture of things which have left no record but this imperfect sketch. the old settlers of new zealand--my fellow pioneers--will, i hope, recognize the likeness. to those who have more recently sought these shores, i hope it may be interesting. to all it is respectfully presented. history of the war in the north of new zealand against the chief heke. many years ago, hongi ika, the great warrior chief of new zealand, was dying.[ ] his relations, friends, and tribe were collected around him, and he then spoke to them in these words: "children and friends, pay attention to my last words. after i am gone, be kind to the missionaries, be kind also to the other europeans; welcome them to the shore, trade with them, protect them, and live with them as one people; but if ever there should land on this shore a people who wear red garments, who do no work, who neither buy nor sell, and who always have arms in their hands, then be aware that these are a people called soldiers, a dangerous people, whose only occupation is war. when you see them, make war against them. then, o my children, be brave! then, o friends, be strong! be brave that you may not be enslaved, and that your country may not become the possession of strangers." and having said these words, he died. [footnote : hongi was shot through the body at mangamuka, in hokianga, of which wound he died, after lingering some years. the speech here given was not spoken on the _day_ of his death, but some time before, when he saw he could not recover.] after this, years passed away, and the pakeha increased in numbers, and were spread over the whole country, and traded with the maori, and lived with them, and the maori were pleased with them, for they got from them plenty of gunpowder, and tomahawks, and blankets, and all the wealth of the pakeha became theirs, and there was no fighting between them, but all lived together as friends. more years passed away, and then came a chief of the pakeha who we heard was called a governor. we were very glad of his arrival, because we heard he was a great chief, and we thought, he being a great chief, would have more blankets and tobacco and muskets than any of the other pakeha people, and that he would often give us plenty of these things for nothing. the reason we thought so was because all the other pakeha often made us presents of things of great value, besides what we got from them by trading. who would not have thought as we did? the next thing we heard was, that the governor was travelling all over the country with a large piece of paper, asking all the chiefs to write their names or make marks on it. we heard, also, that the ngapuhi chiefs, who had made marks or written on that paper, had been given tobacco, and flour, and sugar, and many other things, for having done so. we all tried to find out the reason why the governor was so anxious to get us to make these marks. some of us thought the governor wanted to bewitch all the chiefs,[ ] but our pakeha friends laughed at this, and told us that the people of europe did not know how to bewitch people. some told us one thing, some another. some said the governor only wanted our consent to remain, to be a chief over the pakeha people; others said he wanted to be chief over both pakeha and maori. we did not know what to think, but were all anxious he might come to us soon; for we were afraid that all his blankets, and tobacco, and other things would be gone before he came to our part of the country, and that he would have nothing left to pay us for making our marks on his paper. [footnote : the governor made some presents of no great value to some of the natives who signed the treaty of waitangi, and a report in consequence got about, as is related here, that he was paying a high price for signatures. many suppositions and guesses were made by the ignorant natives of the part of the country alluded to in the story, as to what could be the reason he was so desirous to get these names written on his paper, and many suggested that he had some sinister design, probably that of _bewitching_ them.] well, it was not long before the governor came, and with him came other pakeha chiefs, and also people who could speak maori; so we all gathered together, chiefs and slaves, women and children, and went to meet him; and when we met the governor, the speaker of maori told us that if we put our names, or even made any sort of a mark, on that paper, the governor would then protect us, and prevent us from being robbed of our cultivated land, and our timber land, and everything else which belonged to us. some of the people were very much alarmed when they heard this, for they thought that perhaps a great war expedition was coming against us from some distant country, to destroy us all; others said he was only trying to frighten us. the speaker of maori then went on to tell us certain things, but the meaning of what he said was so closely concealed we never have found it out.[ ] one thing we understood well, however; for he told us plainly that if we wrote on the governor's paper, one of the consequences would be that great numbers of pakeha would come to this country to trade with us, that we should have abundance of valuable goods, and that before long there would be great towns, as large as kororareka, in every harbour in the whole island. we were very glad to hear this; for we never could up to this time get half muskets or gunpowder enough, or blankets, or tobacco, or axes, or anything. we also believed what the speaker of maori told us, because we saw that our old pakeha friends who came with us to see the governor believed it. [footnote : when a native says anything for which he thinks he may at some future time be called to account, he so wraps his ideas up in figurative and ambiguous terms as to leave him perfectly free, should he think fit, to give a directly contrary meaning to that which is most obvious at the time he speaks. some natives are very clever at this, but it often happens that a fellow makes such a bungle of the business as to leave no meaning at all of any sort. this is what the narrator of the story means when he says, "the meaning of what the speaker of maori said was closely concealed," which is a polite maori way of saying that he was talking nonsense.] after the speaker of maori had ceased, then te tao nui and some other chiefs came forward and wrote on the governor's paper; and te tao nui went up to the governor, and took the governor's hand in his and licked it! we did not much like this; we all thought it so undignified. we were very much surprised that a chief such as te tao nui should do so; but te tao nui is a man who knows a great deal about the customs of the pakeha; he has been to port jackson in a ship, and he, seeing our surprise, told us that when the great pakeha chiefs go to see the king or queen of england they do the same, so we saw then that it was a straight proceeding. but after te tao nui and other chiefs had made marks and written on the governor's paper, the governor did not give them anything. we did not like this, so some other chiefs went forward, and said to the governor, "pay us first, and we will write afterwards." a chief from omanaia said, "put money in my left hand, and i will write my name with my right," and so he held out his hand to the governor for the money; but the governor shook his head and seemed displeased, and said he would not pay them for writing on the paper. now, when all the people saw this they were very much vexed, and began to say one to another, "it is wasting our labour coming here to see this governor," and the chiefs began to get up and make speeches. one said, "come here, governor; go back to england;" and another said, "i am governor in my own country, there shall be no other;" and paapahia said, "remain here and be governor of this island, and i will go to england and be king of england, and if the people of england accept me for their king it will be quite just; otherwise you do not remain here." then many other chiefs began to speak, and there was a great noise and confusion, and the people began to go away, and the paper was lying there, but there was no one to write on it. the governor looked vexed, and his face was very red. at this time some pakehas went amongst the crowd, and said to them, "you are foolish; the governor intends to pay you when all the writing is done, but it is not proper that he should promise to do so; it would be said you only wrote your names for pay; this, according to our ideas, would be a very wrong thing." when we heard this we all began to write as fast as we could, for we were all very hungry with listening and talking so long, and we wanted to go to get something to eat, and we were also in a hurry to see what the governor was going to give us; and all the slaves wanted to write their names, so that the governor might think they were chiefs, and pay them; but the chiefs would not let them, for they wanted all the payment for themselves. i and all my family made our marks, and we then went to get something to eat; but we found our food not half done, for the women and slaves who should have looked after the cooking were all mad about the governor, so when i saw that the food was not sufficiently done, i was aware that something bad would come of this business.[ ] [footnote : this is a common native superstition. the natives believe in omens of a thousand different kinds, and amongst others think it a very bad omen if, on an occasion when any business of importance is on hand, the food happens to be served underdone; or before a battle it is a particularly bad omen.] next morning the things came with which the governor intended to pay us for writing our names, but there was not much tobacco, and only few blankets;[ ] and when they were divided some of the chiefs had nothing, others got only a few figs of tobacco, some one blanket, others two. i got for myself and all my sons, and my two brothers, and my three wives, only two blankets. i thought it was too little, and was going to return them, but my brother persuaded me to keep them; so we got into our canoe to go home, and on the way home we began to say, "who shall have the blankets?" and so we began to quarrel about them. one of my brothers then said, "let us cut them in pieces, and give every one a piece." i saw there was going to be a dispute about them, and said, "let us send them back." so we went ashore at the house of a pakeha, and got a pen and some paper, and my son, who could write, wrote a letter for us all to the governor, telling him to take back the blankets, and to cut our names out of the paper, and then my two brothers and my sons went back and found the governor in a boat about to go away. he would not take back the blankets, but he took the letter. i do not know to this day whether he took our names out of the paper. it is, however, no matter; what is there in a few black marks? who cares anything about them? [footnote : these presents were given to the natives, and, in their matter-of-fact manner, understood to be payment for signing the treaty.] well, after this, the governor died; he was bewitched, as i have heard, by a _tohunga_ at the south, where he had gone to get names to his paper; for this was his chief delight, to get plenty of names and marks on his paper. he may not have been bewitched, as i have heard, but he certainly died, and the paper with all the names was either buried with him, or else his relations may have kept it to lament over, and as a remembrance of him. i don't know. you, who are a pakeha, know best what became of it; but if it is gone to england, it will not be right to let it be kept in any place where food is cooked, or where there are pots or kettles, because there are so many chiefs' names in it; it is a very sacred piece of paper; it is very good if it has been buried with the governor.[ ] [footnote : the treaty of waitangi.] after the first governor came the second governor, but the towns and numerous pakeha traders we expected did not come. we heard of a town at waitamata having been built,[ ] and others farther south; but in our part of the country there was no new towns, and the pakeha did not increase in numbers, but, on the contrary, began to go away to the town at waitamata, to be near their chief the governor, who lived there, and many of us had no one left to sell anything to as formerly. tobacco began to be scarce and dear; the ships began to leave off coming to tokerau, hokianga, and mangonui. we inquired the reason of this, but the few pakeha traders left amongst us told us different stories. some said that the reason tobacco was scarce and dear was, because the governor would not let it be brought on shore until he was paid a large price for it, besides what was paid to the people of the ship, who were the right owners of it. this we at first did not believe, because you all said you were not slaves, not one of you, but all free men. others said that the reason ships did not come as frequently as formerly, was because the governor made them pay for coming to anchor in the ports. some said all the evil was by reason of the flagstaff which the governor had caused to be erected at maiki, above kororareka, as a _rahui_, and that as long as it remained there things would be no better; others again told us the flagstaff was put there to show the ships the way into the harbour; others, that it was intended to keep them out; and others said that it was put up as a sign that this island had been taken by the queen of england, and that the nobility and independence of the maori was no more. but this one thing at least was true, we had less tobacco and fewer blankets and other european goods than formerly, and we saw that the first governor had not spoken the truth, for he told us we should have a great deal more. the hearts of the maori were sad, and our old pakeha friends looked melancholy, because so few ships came to bring them goods to trade with. at last we began to think the flagstaff must have something to do with it, and so heke went and cut it down. [footnote : auckland, the capital of new zealand.] when the flagstaff was cut down, there was a great deal of talk about it, and we expected there would be fighting; but it all ended quietly. the governor, however, left off taking money from the people,[ ] and tobacco became cheap, and ships began to come as before, and all our old pakeha friends were glad, because they had plenty of goods to sell us, and so we all thought heke was a man of great understanding. but the governor put up the flagstaff again, and when heke heard this he came and cut it down again; so this was twice that he cut it down. [footnote : after the flagstaff had been cut down, the customs-duties were repealed, and, in consequence, tobacco and other articles on which duties had been levied became cheaper. this fully convinced the natives that there was some mysterious connection between the dearness of different goods and the existence of the flagstaff, which they now thought was the source of all evils, and which will account for their determined persistence in cutting it down so often, at all risks.] now, when the governor heard that heke had cut down the flagstaff a second time, he became very angry, because he thought he could never get any more money from the people, or the ships,[ ] so he sent to england, and to port jackson, and everywhere, for soldiers to come to guard the flagstaff, and to fight with heke. [footnote : this was really the belief of the natives at the time; i have heard it said not once but fifty times. to tell the contrary was perfectly useless; the flagstaff, and nothing but the flagstaff, was "the cause of all the evil"--and there were not wanting ill-disposed europeans who encouraged this belief, as i think with the purpose to bring on a war.] it was not long before the soldiers came, and the flagstaff was put up again; it was made larger and stronger than before, and pieces of iron were fastened to it, to prevent its being cut down easily, and a house was built under it for the soldiers, and the governor told those soldiers to remain there always to guard that flagstaff. there were other soldiers at kororareka and other places. i don't know how many, but a great many. this was the first time that heke began to think of the last words of hongi ika, his relative, when he died at mawhe. heke began to think much on these words, for heke was now a chief amongst the ngapuhi, and he thought to stand in the place of hongi, as, indeed, he had a right to do. now, these soldiers had red garments; they did not work, or buy and sell, like the other pakeha people; they practised every day with their weapons, and some of them were constantly watching as if they expected to be attacked every moment. they were a very suspicious people, and they had stiff, hard things round their necks to keep their heads up, lest they should forget, and look too much downwards, and not keep their eyes continually rolling about in search of an enemy. great, indeed, was the fear of the maori when they heard of these soldiers, for all the pakeha agreed in saying that they would attack any one their chief ordered them to attack, no matter whether there was any just cause or not; that they would fight furiously till the last man was killed, and that nothing could make them run away. fear came like a cold fog on all the ngapuhi, and no chief but heke had any courage left. but heke called together his people, and spoke to them saying, "i will fight these soldiers, i will cut down the flagstaff, i will fulfil the last words of hongi ika. be not afraid of these soldiers, 'all men are _men_.'[ ] the soldiers are not gods; lead will kill them; and if we are beaten at last, we shall be beaten by a brave and noble people, and need not be ashamed." [footnote : this is a native saying or proverb, meaning that in fact one man is as good as another, or that the best or bravest man is _but_ a man, and therefore not to be too much feared. the speech is a literal verbatim translation.] so heke sent runners to all the divisions of the ngapuhi, saying, "come, stand at my back; the red garment is on the shore. let us fight for our country. remember the last words of hongi ika--_kei hea koutou kia toa_." but the chiefs of the ngapuhi _hapu_ said amongst themselves, "how long will the fire of the maori burn before it is extinguished?" so the ngapuhi chiefs would not join heke for fear of the soldiers, but said, "we will wait till a battle has been fought, and if he is successful, then we will join him." so heke, therefore, went with his own family and people, and those of his elder relation kawiti, and the kapotae, and some others, altogether about men. he went to fight with the soldiers at kororareka, and to cut down his old enemy the flagstaff. heke and kawiti having arrived at tokerau, and having fixed upon the day of attack, they agreed that kawiti should attack the town of kororareka, to draw off the attention of the soldiers who guarded the flagstaff on the hill of maiki, so that heke should have an opportunity to cut it down, for heke had said that he would cut down the flagstaff, and he was resolved to make his word true. when they had formed this plan, and night was come, the priests of the war party threw darts to divine the event.[ ] they threw one for heke, and one for the soldiers, and one for the flagstaff: and the dart for heke went straight, and fair, and fortunate; but the dart for the soldiers turned to one side, and fell with the wrong side up; so did that for the flagstaff. when this was told the people they were very glad, and had no longer any fear. then kawiti, who is himself a _tohunga_, threw a _rakau_ for his own path--he threw one for himself and people, and one for the soldiers, and one for the town. the dart for kawiti went straight and fair, but it turned wrong side up, which is the omen of death; and so also did the dart for the soldiers go fair and straight, but also turned wrong side up. and when kawiti saw this, he said, "it is good. here have i two darts ominous of success, and bravery, and death--our enemy will prove very strong and brave, they will suffer much from us, and so will we from them. i am not displeased, for this is war and not play." then heke and kawiti stood up in the night, and spoke long and with great spirit to their men, to give them courage; and when they had done speaking, kawiti remained where he was near the sea, not far from the town; but heke went inland, and before morning he lay with his men in a hollow close to the flagstaff. [footnote : before a war or any other important matter, the natives used to have recourse to divination, by means of little miniature darts made of rushes or reeds, or often of the leaf of the cooper's flag (raupo). this was very much believed in, but of course the chiefs and priests or _tohunga_ (such of them as did not deceive _themselves_) could make the result favourable or otherwise as they liked. there is an allusion to a custom of this kind (divining by darts) in the bible.] heke lay on the ground with his war party--close at hand were the sleeping soldiers. amongst those soldiers there was not one _tohunga_, not a man at all experienced in omens, or they must have had some warning that great danger and defeat was near; but there they lay sleeping between the open jaws of war, and knew of no danger. this is the only foolishness i see about the pakeha--they are quite ignorant and inexperienced in omens, and, indeed, care nothing at all about them.[ ] [footnote : it astonished the natives greatly that the soldiers paid no attention to omens, and also to see them every five minutes doing something or another monstrously "unlucky."] in the morning, before it was light, kawiti rushed upon kororareka. the young men did not look for the light of this world; their only thought was who should kill the first man, and elevate his name. but the soldiers met them in the path, and the fight began. pumuka then gained a name; he killed the first man of the battle, but had not long to rejoice, for he himself fell a _mataika_ for the pakeha.[ ] then the maori charged to revenge pumuka; the soldiers met them; the sailors charged sword in hand; a keen breeze of war was blowing then on kororareka! the best men of both sides were in front; the sword met the tomahawk, and many fell; but of all the braves (_toa_) there, the chief of the sailors was the bravest; no man could stand up before his sword, and had he not been struck by a shot, the maori would have been defeated--four men like him would have killed kawiti and all his war party. this is what i have been told by kawiti's people who were in the fight. i did not see it myself, but was at every other fight in the war. [footnote : the first man killed in a battle is called the _mataika_. to kill the _mataika_ is thought a great distinction, and young men will risk themselves to the utmost to obtain it. many quarrels arise sometimes after a fight, in consequence of different individuals claiming the honour of having killed the first man. the writer knows a man who in different battles has killed eleven _mataika_.] when kawiti attacked kororareka, the soldiers at the flagstaff on the top of maiki heard the firing, and left the flagstaff, and went straggling about the hill-side, trying to see what was going on below. they did not think of heke or his words when he said he would cut down the flagstaff, neither did they remember the orders of the governor. they were very foolish; for while they were trying to see the fight between kawiti and the soldiers and sailors, and thinking, perhaps, that the maori did not know how to conduct an ambush, heke started from the ground, and before they could turn round the flagstaff and their fort was taken. some of them were killed, others ran away, and then the axes went to work, and the flagstaff was cut down. so this was the third time it fell, and there it lies now. during this time, the fighting was still going on at kororareka; but at last the maori drew back, and the pakeha remained in the town. the maori were not beaten, neither were the soldiers. pumuka had been killed, and many others of kawiti's people were killed and wounded; several, also, of the pakeha had been killed, and their great _toa_, the chief of the sailors, was almost dead. so the words of kawiti proved true: both he and his enemy had done bravely, and had equal success, and both had suffered much. in the afternoon the maori began to perceive that the pakeha were leaving the town, and going on board the ships, so they returned to the town and began to plunder, and the people of the town plundered also, so both parties quietly plundered the town of kororareka, and did not quarrel with one another. at last, all the town people and soldiers went on board the ships, and then the ship of war fired at the maori people who were plundering in the town. the noise of the firing of the ship guns was very great, and some of kawiti's people were near being hit by the lumps of iron. this was not right, for the fight was over, and the people were only quietly plundering the town which had been left for them, and which they had given fair payment for; but, i suppose, the sailors thought their chief was dying, and fired a volley (_waipu_) for his sake. so the sailors may have an argument in their favour; but the maori did not at the time think of this, so in revenge they burnt kororareka, and there was nothing left but ashes; and this was the beginning of the war. well, you pakeha are a noble-minded people; it was very generous of you to give up kororareka to be plundered and burnt for _utu_ for the maori. if you had been beaten you could not have helped it; but as you were not beaten, i say it was very noble of you to give up the town. you are always giving us something, so you gave kawiti and heke a town full of blankets, and tobacco, and money, and all sorts of property, and rum! it was _very_ good of you. i wish i had been there. when kororareka was burnt, and all the europeans had sailed to the town at waitamata, which we now began to hear was called auckland, then heke went to stop at ahuahu, and the news of the battle was heard all over the country, and then many men came to join heke, but no whole _hapu_ came, for most of the ngapuhi chiefs said, "now tens of thousands of soldiers will come to fight with heke, and he will be utterly destroyed." but when all heke's people were together they were about men. now, when thomas walker nene heard that the war had actually begun, and that kororareka had fallen, he called together his family and all his friends, and said he would fight against heke, and seek revenge for his friends the pakeha people. walker had been always a friend and protector to the europeans; and also hongi ika, heke's relation, had killed in former times te tihi, at hokianga, and swallowed his eyes, and te tihi was a _matua_ (elder relation) to walker. and te tao nui came to join walker, and brought with him all his family and relations, many fighting men; only one man of his family did not come--that man went to help heke. te tao nui had always, like walker, been a good friend to the europeans, and he was also an ancient enemy of hongi ika. and the tribe of ngati pou came to help walker. formerly they had been a great tribe, but hongi ika had driven them from their country and slain most of their warriors; but they in return wounded hongi, and he died of that wound some years afterwards. they came to help walker, in search of revenge against hongi ika, for heke and hongi are the same. this tribe of ngati pou brought forty men to help walker, which was all left alive by hongi, but they fought well, for their hatred to hongi was great; they fought through the whole war, and never were absent from any fight. the first man killed in the war between walker and heke was killed by a ngati pou, and the first man who fell on our side was a ngati pou, and the last man who fell in the war was also a ngati pou; their chief, hakaraia, was wounded, and several others of the forty men were killed. and all the young men of the hikutu came to help walker; they came to practise war, and elevate their names; but their handsome and brave young chief, hauraki, fell at waikare, for such is the appearance of war; and many young men came from different tribes (_hapu_) to join walker, and to perfect themselves in the practice of war. and i, your friend, went also with my two younger brothers, my four sons, and my daughter's husband, and nine cousins (_teina keke_), and three slaves--twenty men of us, all _tino tangata_, who had seen war.[ ] i went because when the ancestors of heke fought against mine, the ancestors of walker came to help my forefathers, because they were related to each other; so i and walker are relations; but i don't know exactly what the relationship is, for eleven generations have passed since that ancient war; but walker and i are aware that we are related, and always come to each other's help in war. [footnote : this is a very good example of the manner in which a native chief raises men for a war party; they are all his _relations_ with their different connections, and it is this which causes the natives to be so careful to remember all who are, however remotely, related to them. in a word, to be "a man of many cousins" is to be a great chief.] when walker had got all his men together, they were in number about , and he went with them to okaihau and built a pa, and heke was at te ahuahu with his men. te ahuahu is not far from okaihau, and there was fighting between them every day. several of walker's relations were killed, and the brother of te tao nui was also killed, and his son badly wounded; but in every fight heke lost most men, and had the worst of the battle. so heke sent a messenger to walker, saying, "if you go on this way, when the soldiers return there will be no one to fight them. who will there be to fight with you, and who to fight the red garment?" but walker said, in answer, "i will fight on till i arrive at the end." then the messenger answered walker, saying, "behold the soothsayers foretell your death." then arose quickly karere horo, our priest, who answered in a loud voice, saying, "your soothsayers speak falsely. what sin has walker committed that he should die in this war? i myself who now address you shall die, and many others, but walker shall live." then heke's messenger, having saluted the people, took his gun and departed. up to this time, no news had been heard from the governor at auckland, and a pakeha came to the camp at okaihau, and said to walker's people, "this is a bad thing you are doing, coming here to fight with heke. the governor when he hears of it will be angry, and so will the queen. you are only wasting your powder, and getting killed for nothing. the governor will not give you any more gunpowder, and you will get no pay. moreover, you are not fighting at all for the pakeha, or the queen, you are fighting to revenge te tihi." then another pakeha who was in the camp, an old friend of walker, arose and spoke to the people, and said, "pay no attention to what has been said by this man. both the governor and the queen will be well pleased to hear of your opposing heke, and so will all the pakeha people. you will be ever after this looked on as true friends, and the governor will give you plenty of gunpowder to replace what you have expended. neither is this a war for te tihi, but for kororareka; but if you remember te tihi also, how can you help it?" when we heard this speech we were encouraged, for we had begun to doubt whether we were doing right when we heard the speech of the first pakeha. on this same night the moon was eaten into by a star (eclipsed), and the light of the moon was quite obscured, and we all thought this an omen of great disaster to one party or the other in the battle to take place next morning. the fight, however, in the morning was no great matter; of heke's people there were three killed and twenty wounded; and eleven of our men were wounded, but none killed. walker's old pakeha friends gave him gunpowder, and rifles, and other things, to enable him to fight heke; and some of them came and stayed at the camp, and fought amongst his men, to show him that he was right in what he was doing, for walker had not yet had any word from the governor, and was only fighting on his own thought. shortly after this, a letter came from the governor, and with it the governor sent gunpowder, and lead, and blankets, and flour, and sugar, and tobacco; so we saw then clearly that we were doing right. but there was only one letter for both walker and te tao nui; so te tao nui was angry at this, for he thought there should have been a letter entirely for himself, and he said he would leave the camp with all his men. he had more men, at that time, than walker; but, however, he remained, and helped walker to the last. after this, news came frequently from auckland, and before long we heard that the soldiers were coming. when heke's people heard that the soldiers were coming, most of them left him, and there remained but men. then heke left te ahuahu, and came and built a pa not far from taumata tutu, on the clear ground by the lake; for he said he would fight the soldiers on the spot where the last words of hongi ika had been spoken. the name of this pa of heke's was te kahika. now, when this new fort of heke's was finished, the spirit of the ngakahi entered into the _atua wera_, who is the greatest _tohunga_ in all the country of the ngapuhi. so the ngakahi spoke in the night to heke and his people, by the mouth of the _atua wera_, "be brave, and strong, and patient. fear not the soldiers, they will not be able to take this fort--neither be you afraid of all those different kinds of big guns you have heard so much talk of. i will turn aside the shot, and they shall do you no harm; but this pa and its defenders must be made sacred (_tapu_). you must particularly observe all the sacred rites and customs of your ancestors; if you neglect this in the smallest particular, evil will befall you, and i also shall desert you. you who pray to the god of the missionaries, continue to do so, and in your praying see you make no mistakes. fight and pray. touch not the spoils of the slain, abstain from human flesh, lest the european god should be angry, and be careful not to offend the maori gods. it is good to have more than one god to trust to. this war party must be strictly sacred. be brave, be strong, be patient."[ ] [footnote : this is word for word a literal translation of the speech of the _atua wera_ to heke's men. he was, however, supposed only to speak the words of the _ngakahi_ by whom he was at the moment inspired.] so heke waited there at his fort at mawhe, near taumata tutu, for the coming of the soldiers; and before long they arrived at walker's camp at okaihau, which was but a short distance from where heke was. when these soldiers arrived they were very much fatigued, and quite without provisions, and not at all fit to go to fight. they had been two nights on the road, one of which nights they lay out in the rain, and they had but a small quantity of ammunition. they had come by a long, bad road, up and down hill, though there was a good road open to them; and they were quite worn out, and not fit to fight at all. what could be the reason that the pakeha who knew the country did not tell the soldiers to come up the keri keri in boats, and then along the cart road to the turn-off to okaihau? if they had done this, they could have brought big guns in the boats, and provisions, and put them in carts at the keri keri, and come along the cart road till they were not far from walker's camp. if they had done this, the big guns would have knocked down the pa, for it was a very weak one, and it would have been taken, and the war would have ended; for it was because this very weak pa was not taken that the maori kept on fighting, and caused so many men afterwards to be killed on both sides. heke certainly had many friends amongst the europeans, as why should he not? but the soldiers had with them a light gun, called a rocket, and this gun had a great name: it was said that it would go into the pa, and twist and turn about in pursuit of the people until it had killed them every one. when we heard this we were sorry for heke and his people, and were in great fear for ourselves lest it should turn round upon us also. when the soldiers had rested one night at okaihau, they prepared to attack heke's pa; but early in the morning, when they were getting something to eat, we observed many of them eating standing up; this gave us a good deal of uneasiness, for it has an unlucky look to see warriors before going to battle eating their food standing. they should sit down and eat quietly, as if nothing was going to happen out of common; but, as i have said before, the soldiers are very inexperienced in these matters. when they had done eating, they formed to march to attack heke. what a fine-looking people these soldiers are! fine, tall, handsome people; they all look like chiefs; and their advance is like the advance of a flight of curlew in the air, so orderly and straight. and along with the soldiers came the sailors; they are of a different family, and not at all related to the soldiers,[ ] but they are a brave people, and they came to seek revenge for the relations they had lost in the fight at kororareka. they had different clothes from the soldiers, and short guns, and long heavy swords; they were a people who talked and laughed more than the soldiers, and they flourished their guns about as they advanced, and ate tobacco. [footnote : that the sailors were quite a different _hapu_, though belonging to the _iwi_ of england, and in no way "related" to the soldiers, i have heard often stated by the natives, as well as by the narrator of this story. neither will we wonder at their having jumped at this conclusion, after having compared "jack," let loose for a run on shore, with the orderly soldiers. i will here take occasion to state that i shall not hold myself accountable for the many mistakes and misapprehensions of my old friend the ngapuhi chief, when he speaks of us, our manners, customs, and motives of action; when he merely recounts the events and incidents of the war, he is to be fully depended on, being both correct and minutely particular in his relation, after the native manner of telling a story, to omit _nothing_. i have had, indeed, to leave out a whole volume of minute particulars, such as this for instance: where a _pakeha_ would simply say, "we started in the morning after breakfast," &c., the native would say, "in the morning the ovens were heated, and the food was put in and covered up; when it was cooked it was taken out, and we eat it, and finished eating, then we got up and started," &c. in the course of the narration i have translated, i have had to listen to the above _formula_ about fifty times; the lighting of a pipe and the smoking it, or the seeing a wild pig (describing size and colour, &c.), is never omitted, no matter if it is five seconds before commencing a battle. this is the true native way of telling a story, and it is even now a wonder to them to see how soon a european tells the story of a journey, or voyage, or any event whatever. if a native goes on a journey of three days' duration, during which nothing whatever of any consequence may have occurred, it will take him at least one whole day to tell _all_ about it, and he is greatly annoyed at the impatient pakeha who wants to get the upshot of the whole story by impertinently saying, "did you get what you went for?" to tell _that_ too soon would be out of all rule; every foot of the way must be gone over with every incident, however trivial, before the end is arrived at. they are beginning now to find that in talking to europeans they must leave out one half at least of a story to save time, but the old men _can't_ help making the most of a chance of talking. to cut a story short seems to them a _waste of words_ by _not_ speaking them, while we think it a decided waste of words _to_ speak them. in old times the natives had so few subjects for conversation that they _made the most_ of what they had, which accounts for their verbosity in trifling matters.] so the soldiers, sailors, and other europeans advanced to the attack of heke's pa, and with them came also walker and his men; but before we had gone far, we observed the soldiers carrying on their shoulders certain things made of cloth and wood; these things were rolled up, and we did not know the use of them, so we asked what they were, and were told they were _kauhoa_ on which to carry the dead or wounded! this was the worst of all; there were those soldiers going to battle, and actually carrying on their shoulders things to put themselves on when they were dead! so we began to say one to another, "those soldiers walking there are all dead men. it only wants a few guns to be fired, and they will be all killed." so some of the chiefs told some of the chiefs of the soldiers what a dreadfully unlucky thing they were doing, but they all laughed, and said that they came there to fight, and that whenever people fought some one was sure to be killed or wounded, and that it was right to have something to carry them on. but our people said it was time enough to think of carrying a man when he could not stand, and that by what they were doing they were _calling_ for death and destruction; and they tried hard to get the soldiers to throw away these things, but the soldiers would not listen to them. so we all said, "this is not a war party here marching on this plain, but a _mate_" (a funeral procession); so all the maori left the soldiers, and went and sat on the top of the hill called taumata kakaramu, except about forty men, walker's relations, who would not leave him. we felt sorry for the soldiers; but we said, "let them fight their own battle to-day, and if they are successful we will help them in every other fight." but no one could believe they would be successful. at last the soldiers and sailors got before heke's pa; the main body of the soldiers remained opposite to it, at the side next to walker's camp--the rest, about one hundred men, sailors and soldiers, went round by the shore of the lake, which was on the right of the pa, and so got behind it; and on that side there was but one slight fence, and no _pekerangi_.[ ] the soldiers had told us in the morning that they would rush on both sides of the pa at once, and that it would be taken in a moment, and that then they would come home to breakfast. [footnote : heke's pa at the lake, the first we ever attacked, was the weakest ever built by the natives in the war. had it not been for kawiti's appearance just at the moment the storming party were about to advance, and thus making a diversion, it would most certainly have been taken, and as certain all its defenders killed or taken prisoners; for if the soldiers had entered _then_, the friendly natives, who were outside in great numbers, would have prevented any escaping. as it turned out, however, the place was not taken, and this gave the natives courage to continue the war, in the course of which they acquired so much confidence, that now they think less of fighting europeans, and are less afraid of them, than of their own countrymen.] so now the soldiers were in front of the pa, and also behind it; and on the right was the lake, and on the left was walker with about forty men, and behind walker there was a wood--he was between the wood and the pa. then the soldiers who had the rocket gun went a little to the left front of the pa, and set the gun upon its legs, and pointed it straight at the pa. then all the people on the top of taumata kakaramu fixed their eyes on this gun. we watched it closely, and held our breath, and had great fear for the people in the pa--for they were, although against us, all ngapuhi, the same _iwi_ as ourselves, and many of them our near relations--and we never expected to see them more by reason of this gun, we had heard so much of it. at last, a great smoke was seen to issue from one end of the gun, and the rocket came out of the other. at first it did not go very fast, but it had not gone far before it began to flame, and roar, and dart straight towards the pa. it had a supernatural appearance, and rushed upon the pa like a falling star; but just as it was about to enter the pa it swerved from its course, touched the ground outside, and then rose and flew away over the pa, without doing any harm, and no one could tell where that first rocket went to, for it was the _ngakahi_, the familiar spirit of the _atua wera_, who had blown upon it with his breath and turned it away, according to his word when he spoke by the mouth of the _tohunga_; for up to this time heke and his people had kept strictly all the sacred customs, and infringed none of them. so the _ngakahi_ remained guarding them from all danger. when we saw that the first rocket had gone by the pa and done no harm, we all gave a great sigh, and our minds were eased; a second rocket was fired, and a third, and so till they were all gone, but not one did any harm, for the _ngakahi_ had turned them all away--not one entered the pa. now, before the first rocket was fired, heke came out of the front gate of the pa to watch the effect of the rocket, and he stood outside praying a maori prayer, and holding with one hand to a post of the fence. then the first rocket was fired; it came very near him, and passed away without doing any harm. then another was fired, and missed also; so when heke saw this, he cried out in a loud voice, "what prize can be won by such a gun?"[ ] and this has become a saying amongst us from that day; for whenever we hear a man boasting of what he can do, we think of the rocket, and cry, "what prize can be won by such a gun?" [footnote : "_e aha te kai e pahure i aia._" my translation is not very literal; a literal translation would not give the sense to the reader not acquainted with the maori language; my free translation gives it exactly.] when the first rocket was fired it frightened all the dogs in the pa, and they ran barking away over the plain; and also one slave ran out of the pa. he was very much frightened, and he ran away by a path which went between the hundred soldiers and sailors who were behind the pa, and walker's people, who were at the left side of it; and this slave never stopped running till he came to a place called kai namu, where kawiti, who had marched all night to relieve heke, had just arrived. and this slave ran up to kawiti and his people, and began to cry out, "oh, the soldiers have a frightful gun; it comes roaring and flaming." here kawiti stopped him, and said, "i know all about all sorts of guns; all guns will kill, and all guns will also miss; this is the nature (_ahua_) of guns; but if you say one word more, i will split your head with my tomahawk." so the slave became more afraid of kawiti than he was of the rocket, and he ran away back to heke, and told him that kawiti with help was close at hand. when all the rockets had been fired, then the hundred men, soldiers and sailors, who were at the back of the pa, arose out of an old maori _pare pare_, where they had been sheltered, and giving a great shout, turned to rush against the pa. then heke shouted to his men, "now let every man defend the spot he stands on, and think of no other; and i, on my side, will look to the great fish which lies extended on our front."[ ] and as heke was saying this, the soldiers and sailors had begun to move towards the pa, when suddenly kawiti with one hundred and forty men appeared close upon their right, and fired upon them. then the soldiers turned quickly to the right and attacked kawiti; they were close to each other, and some fought hand to hand. the soldiers, then, were pressed back, and forced to give way before the rush of kawiti and his men; but soon they rallied to the call of their chiefs, and charged with the bayonet, and then a close fight ensued, in which twenty of kawiti's men were slain, and many wounded. several of them were chiefs, and among them was one of kawiti's sons, being the second son he had lost in the war; the other fell at kororareka. kawiti's men then retreated, and the soldiers chased them as far as the path in the hollow, which leads to ahuahu, and there the last maori was killed by the foremost soldier. there is a stone placed there where that maori fell, and close to that stone by the side of the path the soldier is also buried, for a shot from the pa struck him, and he fell there. he was a great _toa_, that soldier; in this fight whenever he pointed his gun a man fell, and he ran so fast in pursuit that there was no escape from him; but he fell there--for such is the appearance of war. the musket is a bad weapon, the worst of all weapons; for let a man be as brave as he may, he cannot stand up before it long. great chiefs are killed from a distance by no one knows who, and the strength of a warrior is useless against it. [footnote : the natives often call a line or column of men a fish, and this term is just as well understood as our "column," "company," "battalion," &c. i will here say that though the native language is, as might be supposed, extremely deficient in terms of art or science in general, yet it is quite copious in terms relating to the art of war. there is a maori word for almost every infantry movement and formation. i have also been very much surprised to find that a native can, in terms well understood, and without any hesitation, give a description of a fortification of a very complicated and scientific kind, having set technical terms for every part of the whole--"curtain, bastion, trench, hollow way, traverse, outworks, citadel," &c. &c., being all well-known maori words, which every boy knows the full meaning of.] as the soldiers chased kawiti, the pa fired on them from the left, so that they had kawiti in front and the pa on the left, both firing, and therefore lost many men; but having beaten kawiti off, they returned and took shelter in the maori breastwork, and began again to fire at the pa. so they fired, and the pa returned the fire, and the main body of the soldiers who were at the front of the pa fired. lead whistled through the air in all directions, the whole country seemed on fire, and brave men worked their work. then tupori, a chief who was in the pa with heke, saw that kawiti had elevated his name, for he had fought the soldiers hand to hand twice--once at kororareka, and once on this day; and seeing this, tupori wished also to do something to make his name heard; he therefore cried out for only twenty men to follow him, and he would charge the soldiers. then twenty men rushed out of the pa with tupori; they ran straight up the hill to the breastwork, the soldiers firing on them all the time, but without hitting one man. so tupori and his twenty men came quite up to the breastwork, and stood upon the top of the bank, and fired their double-barrel guns in the soldiers' faces, and drove them out of the breastwork. the soldiers retreated a short distance, and tupori and his people began collecting the bundles of cartridges which the soldiers had left behind; and while they were doing this, the soldiers suddenly came rushing upon them. their charge was very grand, and terrible to look at. they came rushing on in great anger, shouting and _cursing_ at the maori. so tupori and his men ran away to the pa, and as they ran the soldiers fired at their backs, and killed two men, and wounded tupori in the leg. the rest got safe into the pa, and took tupori and the two dead men along with them. great is the courage of tupori! he has made his name heard as that of a _toa_. but it was not right for the soldiers to curse the maori, for up to this time nothing wrong had been done on either side, and so the maori were much surprised to hear the soldiers cursing and swearing at them. after this the soldiers fired at the pa all day, but only killed three men, besides the two men killed in the charge of tupori; these five men were all killed belonging to the pa that day. when it was near night, the soldiers went back to walker's camp at okaihau, taking with them their wounded, and also two or three dead; but about ten dead were left behind at taumata tutu, where they fell in the fight with kawiti. so heke remained in possession of the battle plain (_te papa_), and his pa was not taken, and he buried the dead of the soldiers. but one soldier who had been wounded, and left behind by the side of the lake, was found next morning by two slaves, and they pretended they were friends, and got his gun from him, and then they took him to the lake and held his head under water till he was dead. next morning after the battle the soldiers returned to the keri keri, and walker went with his people to help them to carry the wounded. and hauraki, the young chief of the hikutu, went also with thirteen of his people to assist in carrying the wounded soldiers; but the rest of his tribe, being one hundred men, remained behind at okaihau, for it was not expected there would be any more fighting for some days. but when the soldiers and walker's people came to the keri keri, the maori chiefs of walker's party talked of attacking the kapotai at waikare, in the bay of islands, because they were allies of kawiti; so they went and told their minds to the chiefs of the soldiers, who agreed to do so, for they were angry at not having been able to take heke's pa at taumata tutu. so when the soldiers and walker's people came to the bay of islands, they each separated a party to attack the kapotai. they went up the waikare river in the night in canoes and boats, with great precaution, hoping to surprise the kapotai, and so to revenge their dead who had fallen at taumata tutu; but before they got near to the pa, the wild ducks in the river started up and flew over the pa, which alarmed the kapotai, and caused them to suspect that an enemy was coming up the river, so they took arms and watched for the approach of the war party. and soon the soldiers were near, but it was not yet daylight. then the men of the kapotai called out, "if you are maori warriors who come in the night, come on, we will give you battle; but if you are soldiers, here is our pa, we give it you." they soon discovered the soldiers, and then they went out at the back of the pa, and left it for the soldiers to plunder, as payment for kororareka, which was very right. so the soldiers and walker's maori plundered the pa of the kapotai, and killed all the pigs. after the kapotai pa had been plundered and burnt, walker and his men went in pursuit of the kapotai, who had retreated into the forest, but the soldiers remained behind on the clear ground near the pa. walker, mohi, and repa went into the woods with three hundred men, followed the kapotai, and overtook them. when the kapotai perceived they were followed, their anger was very great, so they turned, and fought with great courage against walker. walker was not able to beat them, so they remained a long time fighting in the forest. but hauraki, the young hikutu chief, had, with his thirteen men, taken another path, and he met the young chief of the kopatai, who had with him sixty men, and they were both young men and fighting for a name, so a desperate fight commenced. hauraki and his thirteen men thought not of the light of the sun or the number of the enemy; their only thought was of war, and to elevate their names. it was a close fight, and whenever the rifle of hauraki was heard a man fell, and soon he had killed or wounded several of the kapotai, who began to fall back. then hauraki cried out to the retreating kapotai, "fly away on the wings of the wood-pigeon, and feed on the berries of the wood, for i have taken your land." then a certain slave of the kapotai said, "that is hauraki, a very noble born man. he is a chief of te hikutu, and of te rarawa, and of te ngati kuri." now when hari the young kapotai chief heard this, he cried aloud to hauraki, saying, "swim you away on the backs of the fish of the sea,[ ] there is no land for you here." then these two young warriors drew nearer to each other. hauraki had just loaded his rifle, but the caps which he had were too small, and he was a long time trying to put on the cap. while he was doing this, hari fired at him, and the ball struck him on the breast and passed out at his back; but so great was his strength and courage that he did not fall, but took another cap and fixed it, and then fired at the kapotai chief, and the ball struck him on the side under the arm-pit, and went out at the other arm-pit. so hari staggered and fell dead. when hauraki saw this, he said, "i die not unrevenged," and then sank gently to the ground. his people then seeing this, two of them led him away towards the rear. the kapotai also carried away their chief, and then, enraged at his death, rushed upon the hikutu, who were now only eight in number, the rest having been killed or wounded. these eight were _tino tangata_ (practised warriors), but were too few in number, and had lost their chief; so when the kapotai rushed upon them, they lost heart and fled, and the kapotai chased them, and soon the foremost of the flying hikutu overtook hauraki and the two men who were leading him off. then hauraki said, "do not remain with me to die, but hide me in the fern and escape yourselves, and go to my relation walker, and tell him to muster all his people, and come and carry me off." so they all pressed their noses to the nose of hauraki, one after another. and tears fell fast, and the balls from the guns of the kapotai whistled round their heads, so while some returned the fire of the enemy, others hid hauraki in the long fern. when this was done, they all fled, and escaped with great difficulty; for while they were hiding hauraki the kapotai had surrounded them, and they would never have escaped at all but for the great courage of kaipo and te pake, hauraki's cousins, who broke through the kapotai, and opened a way for the rest. [footnote : in allusion to the fact of the war party having come by water.] now, when hauraki's eight men got on the clear ground, they found that the soldiers were getting into the boats to go away, and walker, mohi, and repa had just come out of the forest from fighting with the kapotai, and hauraki's cousins ran to walker, and said "our friend[ ] is left behind wounded in the forest, and likely to be taken by the kapotai." then walker was very much dismayed when he heard this, and he and mohi ran to the chiefs of the soldiers and desired them to remain for a short time till he should rescue hauraki, but the soldiers could not understand what walker meant, for the speaker of maori (the interpreter to the force) had already gone away in one of the boats, and there was a great confusion, every one trying to get away, and walker's men were also getting into their canoes and going away, and boats and canoes were running foul of each other, and the creek was choked with them. then came the kapotai in great force with their allies out of the forest, and commenced firing on the departing _taua_ from a distance of about two hundred fathoms, so the soldiers and walker got away and returned to kororareka, and left hauraki lying alone in the forest, for their bellies were full of fighting. so he lay there till midnight, and the night was cold and wet, and he kept continually thinking what a disgrace it would be to his family if he should be taken alive.[ ] and as he lay thus, he saw[ ] the spirit of the greatest warrior of all his ancestors, who said to him, "arise! shall my descendant be taken alive?" then hauraki said, "i am a mere man, not like unto my ancestors, half god and half man."[ ] then the spirit said, "in the mind is the strength of the body. arise!" so hauraki arose, and travelled a long way in the night till he found a small canoe by the river side; then he pulled down the river towards the bay of islands till the canoe upset; then he swam on shore, and when he got to the shore he was almost dead; but near to where he landed was the house of a pakeha, and the mother of this pakeha was hauraki's cousin, so that pakeha took him and concealed him in the house, and took care of him, and before the middle of the day a party of walker's men arrived there in search of him. so they took him to the bay of islands, and the doctors of the soldiers did what they could to cure him, but without success. so his tribe, who had arrived at okaihau, carried him home to his own place at hokianga, where he died. [footnote : the natives when speaking to each other seldom mention their chief except as "our friend," or, if he be an old man, as "our leader." speaking to europeans, however, they often say our _rangatira_, that having become the only word in use among the europeans to signify the chief of a tribe, though it may also mean many other ranks, according as it is applied.] [footnote : that weakness is crime with the natives is a fact, and in consequence the disgrace of being taken prisoner of war degrades a native as much as with us it would degrade a man to be convicted of felony. i have heard two natives quarrelling when one called the other "slave," because his great-grandfather had been once made prisoner of war. the other could not deny the traditional fact, and looked amazingly chop-fallen. he, however, tried to soften the blow by stating that even if his ancestor _had_ been made prisoner, it was by a section of _his own_ tribe, and consequently by his own _relations_ he was defeated. thus endeavouring to make a "family affair" of it.] [footnote : poor hauraki was no doubt delirious from the effects of his wound, and no doubt thought he saw the vision he recounted when his people found him.] [footnote : one of the ancestors of hauraki, according to a tradition of the rarawa, hearing, even in the _reinga_ (the maori hades), of the warlike renown of one of his sons, became jealous of his fame, and returned to this world. emerging from amongst the waves at ahipara, on the west coast, where his son lived, he challenged him to single combat. at the first onset the son had the worst. then the father said, "had you been equal to your ancestors i would have remained here as your companion in arms; but you are degenerate and a mere man. i return to the _reinga_, to be with the heroes of the olden time." he then disappeared in the waves.] when hauraki died, and his body lay at wirinake to be seen for the last time by his relations, there was a great gathering of the rarawa and ngapuhi, to fulfil the last rights due to a chief. and when the _pihe_ had been sung,[ ] then the chiefs arose one after another to speak in praise of the dead. this was the speech of te anu, he who is known as having been in his youth the best spearman of all the ngapuhi tribes. bounding to and fro before the corpse, with his famous spear in hand, he spoke as follows: "farewell, hauraki! go, taking with you your kindness and hospitality, your generosity and valour, and leave none behind who can fill your place. your death was noble; you revenged yourself with your own hand; you saved yourself without the help of any man. your life was short; but so it is with heroes. farewell, o hauraki, farewell." at this time it was night, and the sister and also the young wife of hauraki went in the dark and sat beside the river. they sat weeping silently, and spinning a cord wherewith to strangle themselves. the flax was wet with their tears. and as they did this the moon arose. so when the sister of hauraki saw the rising moon, she broke silence, and lamented aloud, and this was her lament--the part i remember of it:-- it is well with thee, o moon! you return from death, spreading your light on the little waves. men say, "behold the moon re-appears;" but the dead of this world return no more. grief and pain spring up in my heart as from a fountain. i hasten to death for relief. oh, that i might eat those numerous soothsayers who could not foretell his death. oh, that i might eat the governor, for his was the war! [footnote : the _pihe_ is a funeral chant sung standing before the dead. it is a very curious composition, and of great antiquity, having been composed long before the natives came to this country. part of the language is obsolete. it has allusions which point in a remarkable manner to the origin of the natives, and from whence they have come. they do not themselves understand these allusions, but they are clear enough to any person who has taken the trouble to trace the race from which they are derived through the pacific islands, far into north latitude, next into asia, and to observe the gradual modifications of language and tradition occasioned by time and change of abode.] at this time men came who were in search of these women, and prevented the sister of hauraki from killing herself at that time. they watched her for several days, but she died of grief. but the wife of hauraki consented to live that she might rear her son, so that he might fight with the kapotai on a future day. so she called his name maiki, which is the name of the hill on which stood the flagstaff, the cutting down of which was the cause of the war. he was, therefore, called by this name, that he might always be reminded of his father's death. the lament of the sister of hauraki was sung by all the divisions of all the ngapuhi, from the west coast to tokerau. and when walker heard it he was displeased, and said, "it is wrong to sing about eating the governor, for soon people who do not know the song well will make mistakes, and sing, 'oh, that i might eat heke,' which would be the worst of all. as for the priests or soothsayers, it is no matter; they are all a set of fools." so now when people sing that lament, they only say, "oh, that i might eat the numerous priests" (_tini tohunga_). so hauraki was taken to te ramaroa, a cave in the mountains, behind wirinake, where his ancestors are buried, and then three hundred men of te hikutu, natikuri, te rarawa, and walker's people armed, and entered the country of the kapotai, to fire powder in remembrance of hauraki[ ] (_paura mamae_.) they destroyed the cultivations, and got much plunder; but the kapotai retired to the forest, and would not fight, for they knew this was a war party of the tribe of hauraki, who came bearing the weapons of grief (_patu mamae_), and, therefore, they would not fight. so the _taua_ came to the spot where hauraki had fallen, and there fired many volleys of musketry in honour of the dead, and then returned unmolested to their own country. the behaviour of the kapotai in this matter was correct. we all know that it was not fear that prevented them from attacking us; they respected the grief of the people and relations of hauraki, and made way before them, which was a noble thought (_whakaaro rangatira_). [footnote : it is a native custom, when any chief of importance has been killed in fair fight, for his friends to form a party and enter even the enemy's country, should he have fallen there, and fire some volleys in his honour on the spot where he fell. this they call _paura mamae_--powder of pain or grief. they, of course, do it at the risk of being attacked, but the natives often allow the custom to be fulfilled without molesting the party, although a party of this kind always plunder and ravage all before them.] when heke heard of the death of hauraki, he said, "now, if i am slain in this war, it matters not, for there is no greater ngapuhi chief than hauraki." what heke said was true; but he said it to please te hikutu, for heke is a man of many thoughts. at this same time, te tao nui, who was at okaihau, heard that most of heke's men had gone from te ahuahu to ohaeawae to kill cattle for food; for by this time heke had abandoned his pa, near taumata tutu, which the soldiers had attacked, and gone to another fort of his at te ahuahu, to be near the cultivations. so te tao nui took sixty men, and went on a dark rainy night and took the pa at the ahuahu by surprise, and the people in it only fired two shots and fled. so te tao nui remained in possession of heke's fort at the ahuahu, and all heke's provision fell into his hands, and also the road to ohaeawae was opened, for this fort was on the path. then walker abandoned his camp at okaihau and joined te tao nui in heke's pa, and as they found there plenty of provisions, they determined to remain there till the soldiers should return again from auckland. but heke was very much enraged to see his fort and provisions thus snatched from him, and he determined to retake it before the soldiers should return from auckland to help walker. so he sent messengers to all parts of the country where he had friends, and to the old chiefs who were still alive who had been companions of the great hongi in the old wars. and they came, and with them came te kahakaha, he who had been hongi's chosen friend. he had seen more battles than any man now alive, and was a very brave and experienced leader. he came to assist heke, and to show him how his fathers had fought. when heke's war party had assembled, they were, in number, about eight hundred men; and, after having rested a few days at ohaeawae, they marched before daylight to attack walker and te tao nui at te ahuahu, and to retake heke's pa. walker, tao nui, moses, and wi repa, with his two brothers, were the principal chiefs of walker's party at this time, and they had with them only about three hundred men, for many of walker's friends had returned to hokianga, to fetch pork and other provisions, for they did not expect to be attacked so soon. now in the morning before daylight, an old slave woman went out from the pa of walker to pick up sticks for firewood. and there was a thick fog lying close to the ground; and before the old woman had gone far she saw a black line of something coming out of a cloud of fog, and as she was wondering what this might be, she suddenly perceived that it was a _taua_ of armed men, and they had got within fifty fathoms of the pa,[ ] so she cried aloud the cry of alarm--_te whakaariki e! te whakaariki e!_--and instantly the people in the pa were alarmed, started from sleep, and with their arms in their hands rushed hurriedly to defend the gates. then walker called out to te tao nui, "remain you here and defend our pa, and i will go out and fight." then walker and his people rushed against the enemy. and when they were doing this, another party of the enemy appeared at the opposite side of the pa. of this party the old chief te kahakaha was the leader. then, when te tao nui saw this division and their numbers, which were great, he said--"now we have the enemy in full view; there are no more of them in concealment." so he opened the gates on his side of the pa, and rushed out with his people, and called out to charge. so walker charged at one side of the pa, and tao nui and his people on the other. walker being opposed to heke, and tao nui to te kahakaha, the fight began, and this was the greatest battle in the war. the best men of both parties were there, and heke was very desirous to destroy walker in one great fight before the soldiers should return; and walker, on his side, wished to show that he could fight heke without the aid of the soldiers. so now walker charged heke, and heke fired like thunder against walker. i, your friend, was there! and as we rushed on, karere horo was killed (he was our mad priest); and taketu was killed, and te turi, and hangarau, and about nine others; and takare had both his eyes shot out, and wi repa and his brother, and hakaraia, the chief of the ngati pou, and a great many others, were wounded. by the time all these people were killed or wounded, we were close up to heke's people, and began to fire. heke's men being so near, and standing too close together, we did not miss them; we had revenge for our friends who had fallen. we pressed heke hard. not one of us remembered the light of this world, nor thought of life. then the enemy began to fall back, and we followed them close till we came to a hill side, where they turned and charged us. but we fell back a little then, and got behind the stone wall of a kumera field, and fired at them from behind the low wall, and drove them back, having killed and wounded several. they then returned to the hill-side, and began firing at us from about fifty fathoms' distance; but we were sheltered by the low stone wall. then we heard heke shouting out to charge us again, and so down they came upon us again. they greatly outnumbered us, and the sound of their feet as they rushed on was like the noise of a waterfall. we fully expected this time they would finish us, but walker cried out, "stand firm! let them come close; waste no powder." so we stood firm, and took aim over the stone fence, and let them come so close that the smoke of our guns would pass by their foremost men. then we fired, and some of our _toa_, jumped over the wall and ran at them with the tomahawk, upon which they fled away to the hill-side again, leaving their dead and wounded in our hands. then some of our young men, being hot with the fight, cried out to eat them raw at once; but this was a foolish proposal, for although we were fighting against heke, we were all ngapuhi together, and more or less related to each other. had we been fighting waikato or ngatiawa of the south, it would have been quite correct. so walker and the other chiefs would not allow it. [footnote : the natives estimate distances by fathoms and tens of fathoms. a _kume_ is ten fathoms.] while this was going on on walker's side, te tao nui and his family were fighting against the division of te kahakaha and the wharepapa at the other side of the pa; but te kahakaha knew by the sound of the firing that heke had lost ground and was falling back, so he fell back also slowly, intending to join the right of his division to heke's left, so as to fill up the opening which had been made by heke falling back, and then to renew the battle. but, in falling back, his men lost heart, and te tao nui pressed him hard; so, to encourage his men, he advanced to the front, calling loudly, "_whakahokai!_" and, as he ran forward, his men followed. he was quite naked, and only armed with a light spear. he came on lightly, like a young man, seeking a man for his spear; and he rushed upon one of the warriors of the ngati pou, but before he got close enough to strike, a shot struck him on the breast, and came out at his back, which turned him quite round. then another shot struck him on the back, and went out at his breast. then he sank to the ground, saying--"fight bravely, o my family and friends! for this is my last battle." so he lay quiet there, but did not immediately die, for he lingered to see once more the young man heke, who was the representative of hongi, his old companion in many wars. when te kahakaha had fallen, the battle would have been quickly lost but for the wharepapa, the old chief of the ihutai. he was a brave old warrior, and had also fought in the wars of hongi ika. he came forward laughing, and calling on his tribe to stand firm, for he wanted to save the body of te kahakaha. so the ihutai stood firm, and for a time the fight became stationary in that place. at this moment a boy came running to heke, where he stood opposed to walker on the extreme right of the battle. the boy ran up to heke and cried, "the old man has fallen." then heke said, "what old man?" the boy answered, "te kahakaha." then heke said, "is he quite dead?" and the boy answered again, and said, "he is quite dead, and the people are falling back, and his body will be taken by the enemy." when heke heard this his heart rolled about in the hollow of his breast. he threw away his cloak and gun, and ran naked and unarmed all along the front of the battle until he came to the place where the old man was lying. and here he met many men who were running away, and he quickly drove them back to the fight, for they were terrified by his look--his appearance was hardly that of a man. then he came to where the old man lay, and having knelt down, pressed his nose to the nose of the dying man, and said, "father, are you slain?" and the old man said, "son, i am slain; but in whose battle should i die if not in yours? it is good that i should die thus." then heke ran amongst the people and called out to charge; but many had fled. the tribe of ihutai alone remained, and some few others. they, however, charged desperately, and drove back te tao nui a short distance. then heke tore a cartridge-box from the body of a dead man, and cried out to the ihutai to hold back the enemy a short time while he should get away the body of the old man. then he ran away to where he had seen te atua wera standing on the path trying to rally those who were flying, and to collect them on that spot to fight again. this atua wera, you already have heard, is the wisest priest and prophet of all the ngapuhi, and he stood there in the path stopping the flying people with his club. but who can bind a flowing river? tall men with long tattooed faces ran by like a stream, and were deaf to his call, but he had about twenty men who stood firm. then heke came running up and cried out, "advance at once and carry off the old man while it can be done." then te atua wera said, "give me a gun and some cartridges; i have only a club." then heke held out the cartridge-box, and said, "take a gun from one of the people," and being mad with haste, and rage, and grief, he began to buckle the cartridge-box round the waist of the priest. but te atua wera perceived that there was blood on the cartridge-box, so he started back and said, "where did you get this?" then heke cried out, "where should i get it? is not this war?" so then the priest saw that heke himself, the chief of the war, had been the first himself to transgress the sacred rules, and had touched the bloody spoils of the slain. so he said to heke, "the maori atua are arrayed against us, the spirits of the dead are now angry; we are lost; and you, heke, are now no longer invulnerable.[ ] go not to the front, or you will meet with misfortune. leave the old man where he is, it cannot now be helped;" and having said this, te atua wera took the cartridge-box on the end of his club, and threw it away, club and all, into the high fern.[ ] then heke roared out, "what care i for either men or spirits? i fear not. let the fellow in heaven look to it. have i not prayed to him for years? it is for him to look to me this day.[ ] i will carry off the old man alone." and heke's eyes rolled towards heaven, and he ground his teeth. then he ran forward to carry off te kahakaha, but ten of the men who were with te atua wera followed him, for they were ashamed to see the chief go alone and unarmed to carry off his ancient friend, but te atua wera remained where he was. [footnote : the priest had promised heke that he should be himself personally invulnerable so long as the old superstitious war customs were observed, but which heke had in this instance broken.] [footnote : this whole scene between heke and te atua wera is described exactly as it occurred. i have heard it described by several eye-witnesses, one of whom was the atua wera himself, and they all gave the same account. the native priests proscribe many rules and observances to the people, and prophecy good fortune, _provided_ none of these rules be broken, well knowing that some of them will to a certainty be broken by the careless and incorrigible maori. in case of the failure of any of their predictions, they have the excuse that some sacred rule had been broken. in this particular instance the atua wera, seeing the battle going against heke, took advantage of his having handled the bloody cartridge-box; the people having been forbidden to touch anything having the blood of the enemy on it, until certain ceremonies of purification had been performed after the battle, to render plunder or spoil lawfully tangible.] [footnote : heke had been for years a christian, according to the maori notion of christianity, which was then, if not now, a mere jumble of superstition and native barbarism. here heke says, that because he _prayed_ to the "fellow in heaven"--by which he means that at stated periods he had for some years made use of certain words which were supposed to gain the favour of "the european god"--that in consequence that god should favour him now if he was able. the word _karakia_ which heke made use of does not mean prayer as we understand that word. _karakia_ properly signifies a formula of words or _incantation_, which words are supposed to contain a _power_, and to have a positive effect on the spirit to whom they are addressed, totally irrespective of the conduct or actions, good or bad, of the person using them. the fact is that the maori has, perhaps, the lowest religious character of any human being; his mental formation seems to have the _minimum_ of religious tendency. the idea of a supreme being has never occurred to him, and the word which the missionaries use for god (_atua_) means indifferently, a dead body, a sickness, a ghost, or a malevolent spirit. maui, the atua, who they say fished up the island from the sea, is supposed to have _died_ long ago by some, and all agree that he no longer exists.] all this which i have told took but little time, for in battle when men's eyes shine there is no listlessness. but by this time heke's men to the right were quite defeated by walker, and running away; but walker pursued them, slowly and with caution, for the ground was covered with brushwood, and rocks, and high fern, and the enemy though defeated were still more numerous than we were, and we followed slowly lest we might fall into an ambush. so te atua wera sat on a stone beside the path waiting for the return of heke, and soon he saw that the battle was lost, for people came running past in great numbers, and among them came the men who had gone with heke, and they brought with them the body of the old man, te kahakaha, which heke had gone with them to bring away. the fire of te tao nui now began to come closer, and the bullets were cutting down the fern all round them, and the atua cried out to the bearers of the body to inquire for heke, and they said he was close behind them. so te atua waited some time longer, but heke did not come, and the enemy were getting near, and his mind was disturbed, for he had a presentiment of evil. at this moment hoao, a very noted ngapuhi warrior, came jumping over the fern, and seeing the atua wera, he shouted, "turn--face the enemy, for heke has fallen, and unless quickly rescued will be taken." te atua said, "where is he?" the man said, "here in the hollow, where i have hid him in the high fern, but could not carry him off myself." te tao nui had now got close, and some of his men had actually passed where heke lay, but had not discovered him. so now te atua wera saw it was his time to do his part, so he called out "come, follow me to die for _pokaia_.[ ]" three men started forward at this call; they ran to where hekewas, and bore him off. in doing so they were more than once surrounded by the enemy, but the fern and brushwood were so thick that they got off unperceived. the fern and brushwood would not, however, have saved them had it not been for the atua wera, who, by his continual _karakia_ (incantations) rendered the bearers of heke invisible to the enemy. the three men who carried off heke were all from hokianga; they were all elderly men, and practised warriors. their names were _ta pura_, _hoao_, and _te ngawe_. [footnote : in the agitation caused by hearing that heke had fallen, the atua wera called heke by the name of _pokaia_. this was the name of heke's father, a celebrated cannibal warrior and desperate savage. his closing scene took place in the country of the ngatiwhatua, where, having gone in a war expedition, he and his men were killed and eaten, almost to a man, by the ngatiwhatua, who in their turn were all but exterminated by hongi ika in revenge for pokaia.] so heke lost in this battle many of his best old war chiefs, he was himself badly wounded and defeated, and escaped with difficulty to the fort at ohaeawae, to which place he was chased by walker and te tao nui. these misfortunes would not have happened had not heke been so thoughtless as to handle the bloody spoils of the dead, before the proper ceremonies had rendered them common. but there is nothing in this world so deaf to reason or so disobedient as a warrior--when he is enraged he only listens to his own courage, and, being led away by it, dies. after this battle heke remained some time at ohaeawae, and walker stayed at te ahuahu, the fort which te tao nui had taken. walker buried heke's dead which had been left on the field, and there was a great lamentation at both forts, for the number of killed on both sides was great. heke, and kawiti, who had again joined him, now enlarged, and strengthened, and completely finished the pa at ohaeawae, where they were stopping. it was originally but small, and belonged to pene taui, but they now completely finished it, and made it a perfect maori fort in every respect. the inside fence was made of a very hard wood which does not splinter much; the posts of this fence were about one fathom in the ground, and the fence over ground was about four fathoms high. the posts were stout, and some of them would require thirty men with ropes to raise them. inside this fence was the trench in which the men stood to fire; their faces only reached the level of the ground outside the fort. the loopholes, through which the men fired, were also only level with the ground outside, so that in firing the men were very slightly exposed. outside of all was the _pekerangi_, which is a lighter sort of fence put up to deaden the force of shot before it strikes the inner one, and also intended to delay a storming party, so that while they would be pulling it down, the men behind the inner fence might have time to shoot them. this pekerangi was nearly as high as the inner fence, and stood little more than half a fathom outside of it; it was made of a strong framework, and was padded thickly with green flax to deaden the force of shot. it was also elevated about a foot from the ground, so that the men behind the inner fence, standing in the ditch, could shoot through the loopholes in the inner fence _under_ this outside fence; also at different distances along the _kaue_ (curtain) there were _koki_ (flanking) angles, capable of containing many men, so that a storming party would be exposed to a fire both in front and flank, and in these angles were put large ship guns. the men inside, in the inner trench, were also protected from a flanking fire by _pakeaka_ (traverses), which crossed the trench at intervals; also inside the place were many excavations under ground covered over with large logs of timber, and over the timber earth. in these pits the men could sleep safe from the shot of the big guns of the soldiers. there were also high platforms at the corners of the inner fence, from whence could be seen all that an enemy might be doing outside. when this fort was completely finished and provisioned, the priests (_tohunga_) took, according to ancient custom, the chips of the posts, and with them performed the usual ceremonies, and when they had done so they declared that this would be a fortunate fortress; so it was made sacred (_tapu_,) as were all the men who were to defend it. this fortress being now quite finished and ready for war, the soldiers came from auckland to attack it, and also came the sailors and _pakeha maori_ (militia). they landed at the bay of islands, came up the keri keri in boats, and from thence to the waimate along the cart road. they brought with them two very small brass guns, and two very short iron ones (mortars). the short iron guns looked like potato pots, and we laughed at them, and thought of heke's saying of "what prize can be won by such a gun?" we however, notwithstanding our laughing, thought they must have some use, or the soldiers would not have brought them. at last, after remaining several days at the waimate, the _taua_ advanced against ohaeawae. the soldiers, sailors, and other pakeha might be in number about eight hundred, and we maori were four hundred. the enemy did not attempt to oppose our advance, which was very good; for the soldiers were so heavy loaded with cloths, and tied up with belts, and had such heavy cartridge-boxes and also little water casks, hanging to their sides, and packs on their backs, besides the musket and bayonet, that we all said that if we maori were loaded in that way, we should neither be able to fight nor to run away. great is the patience of the soldiers! at this time heke was very ill, and expected to die from his wound which he had received at the great fight at te whatuteri. so his people took him away to his own place at tautora, and te atua wera and sixty men remained there with him. many, also, of the men who had been at the fight with walker at te whatuteri had returned home, so there remained at the pa at ohaeawae only kawiti, pene taui, and one hundred men. so the soldiers encamped before the pa at the distance of about two hundred fathoms. there was a little hill on their right, rather advanced towards the pa. walker took possession of this hill, and encamped upon it with about sixty men. this hill overlooked both the pa and the camp of the soldiers, and from it everything could be seen that was going on. the rest of the maori encamped at a short distance behind the soldiers; and on the left of the soldiers, and a little advanced, were placed the four little big guns, two of brass and two of iron. so now both parties being face to face and close to each other, they were very watchful. some of the soldiers stood all night watching between the camp and the pa, and the people in the pa watched also, and the watch-cry resounded among the hills. this was the cry of the pa: "come on, soldiers, for revenge; come on! stiff your dead are lying on taumata tutu. come on! come on!"[ ] then in answer was heard the watch-cry of walker: "come on, o ngapuhi, for your revenge, come on! we have slain you in heaps on the battle-field. come on! come on!" so passed the first night before ohaeawae. [footnote : "whai mai e te hoia, ki tetahi utu maua akato wharoro ana koe, kei taumata tutu--whai mai! whai mai!"--the watch-cry.] next morning the four little big guns began to fire at the pa, but they did no damage. some of the shots stuck fast in the large posts, but did not go through; others went between the posts, making a mark on each side, but leaving the posts standing as strong as ever. as for the men in the pa, they were all in the trenches, and the shots which came through the fence went over their heads, and did them no harm. after the guns had fired a few times, the people in the pa began firing at them with muskets, and soon killed one sailor, and wounded some others. so the men left the guns for the rest of that day, but in the night they took them away, and placed two of them on the hill where walker had encamped, and the other two on the level ground between that hill and the soldiers' camp. they also made banks of earth to shelter them, so that the men who fired them were safer than they had been the day before, when they had only a little green flax to cover them, which was of no use. next day the guns began to fire again, and continued until night; and also a great number of soldiers, sailors, and maori scattered themselves about the pa, and fired at it with muskets, but could do no harm; and this went on for several days, but the fences of the pa remained standing, and not much injured. i think, however, that although the guns were smaller than they should have been, if they had been continually fired at one place, an opening in the fence would have been made at last; but instead of doing this, when they had been fired for half a day at one part of the fence, then the soldiers would begin firing at some other part of the pa, and then the people would come out of the trenches and repair any damage which had been done at the place at which the guns had been fired at first. we maori did not think the soldiers did wisely in this respect, but they may have had some reason for it which we could not understand, for we don't know much about big guns; as was also seen at ohaeawae, for there were four big guns in the pa, larger than those of the soldiers, and they were fired at us very often, but they never hit any one. my idea is, that big guns are no use to knock down a pa, unless they are very big indeed. but the maori say that in future wars they will build forts where it will be hard, and take a long time, to bring big guns; and when the soldiers after much pains get them there, they will leave the pa at once, and go somewhere else where it will take a long time to follow them, and so on till the soldiers are tired of dragging big guns about the country, after which both parties will be armed with muskets only, and the maori can use these arms as well as the soldiers. this is what i have heard say, and i think it a very correct thought. so the firing of big guns and muskets went on day after day, but no opening was made in the face of the pa; but the chief of the soldiers[ ] did not care much for this, for he wanted every day to send his men to rush up to the pa, to pull down the fence with their hands, or pull it down with ropes, and so get in. but walker and the other chiefs always prevented this, as they knew that all the soldiers would be killed before they could get in in this way. every one of the maori were of this opinion, and also some of our old pakeha friends who were with us, and who knew the appearance of the maori in war. nevertheless, the chief of the soldiers wished every day to send his men to rush up to the pa; and so, at last, we heard so much of this that we began to be very melancholy, and walker told me that he felt sick in the stomach when the chief of the soldiers spoke to him about it, it seemed so great a waste of men's lives. we all became, as i have said, very melancholy, for we all began to see that it would be done at last, and we grieved, therefore, for our friends the soldiers, who we knew would be all killed. but what vexed us most was, that so fine a war party as ours should be beaten by such a small number of people as were in the pa, only because the chief of the soldiers was a foolish, inexperienced person.[ ] [footnote : colonel despard.] [footnote : the pa at ohaeawae was attacked against the advice of the friendly native chiefs, who well knew its strength, and the certain repulse to be expected. they called colonel despard anything but a soldier, and the term "foolish and inexperienced" is the _mildest_ they applied to him.] at last the chief of the soldiers thought of sending for a very large gun from a ship of war at the bay of islands, which would be large enough to break down the fence. if he had done this at first an opening would soon have been made, and the fort taken without many men being killed; but as it was, this gun when it came was of no use, for the chief of the soldiers did not wait till it had broken down the fence, but attempted to take the pa without this having been done. this gun was placed at the foot of the hill where walker had his camp, and it was not fired many times before it became apparent that should it keep on firing till next evening, a large opening would be made in the fence; so we began to think that the chief of the soldiers would have patience, and wait till this should be done. now on this same day, when this big gun began to fire, thirty men came out of the pa unperceived, and coming through a wood in the rear of walker's camp, at a time when walker and most of his men were absent, they rushed in and plundered it, killing one soldier who was there, and also one maori, and wounded also a pakeha, the son of a missionary. they pulled down walker's flag and took it away, and having fired a volley at the camp of the soldiers, ran off to their pa, leaving one man killed, who was killed by tara patiki, and not by the soldiers, as i have heard say. i am sure of this, for i saw tara patiki shoot him. they were close upon us before we saw them, and we had great difficulty to escape, but we both jumped into the fern, and ran down the hill as hard as we could. i fired my gun right into the middle of them, but as only one man was killed, i suppose my shot missed. when the soldiers saw that walker's pa was taken, they came out of their camp, and charged up the hill; but when they came to the top, they found that the enemy were gone, and had taken away everything valuable they could find; they found the soldier who had been killed. he had been sent there by the chief of the soldiers to take care of one of the little big guns which had been removed up to that place, so he was killed there; but i have heard that the chief of the soldiers when he wrote his letter to auckland, to tell the governor about this matter, said that this soldier was killed in charging up the hill; but this is not true, for i and many others got to the top of the hill before the soldiers, and when we got there the enemy were gone, and the dead soldier was lying there where he had been killed, close to the small big gun. this affair, however, made the chief of the soldiers quite mad, so that same evening he ordered all his men to rush upon the pa and pull it down with ropes, or climb over it with ladders, or any way they could; he also sent to walker to tell him what he was about to do. walker spoke against it, as he had done before, and advised to wait one day more, till the big gun had made an opening for the soldiers to rush through quickly; otherwise, he said they would be all killed, and not get in at all. but the chief of the soldiers would not wait. so when walker saw the attack would be made he offered to attack also at another face of the pa, and also twenty young men, cousins of hauraki, the young chief of te hikutu, who was killed at waikare, came and asked leave to go with the soldiers; but the chief of the soldiers would not let them go; neither would he consent to walker's making an attack, lest meeting the soldiers in the pa, his men might be mistaken for the enemy. when we saw that the attack was determined upon, and just going to take place, we were all in a great state of agitation, and knew not what to think. most said all the soldiers would be killed; but then we thought, on the other hand, that perhaps these european warriors could do things above the understanding of us maori, and so perhaps they might take the pa. but all thought the chief of the soldiers very wrong to attempt the thing before an opening had been made for the soldiers to enter by. also, toby (lieutenant philpots), who was chief of the sailors, and a very brave gentleman, had walked close up to the fence of the pa, and along it, and, after having examined it, he returned, and told the chief of the soldiers that the place could not be taken by storm, unless it was first breached. when lieutenant philpots went up to the pa, the people were firing at every one who showed himself, and at first they fired at him; but he walked straight on, not caring about the shots which were fired at him. so, when the people in the pa saw that it was philpots who had done this, they ceased firing at him, and told him to go back, as they did not wish to hurt him. so having examined the fence closely, he returned, but the soldier chief did not mind what he said, and was angry, and spoke rudely to him for having given his opinion on the matter. so now the chief of the soldiers mustered his men and divided them into parties. one party he stationed on the hill which was walker's camp, and with all the rest he went to the attack. and first came a small party with a young chief leading them; these were all _toa_ who had consented to die, so that those who followed might succeed. after them came a party of about eighty men, and after these came the main body of the soldiers; and with them also advanced the sailors, and the pakeha maori, carrying ladders. the sailors advanced without their chief, for as yet he (philpots) remained to fire some last shots from the big gun. but there was with them a young chief called pena (mr. spain). so the whole attack moved on. we soon saw with great surprise that the soldiers were not going to attack that part of the pa which for so many days had been battered by the big guns, and where there might have been some small chance of their getting in, for in that direction the fence had been damaged in some degree, particularly by the large ship gun. the soldiers, however, advanced as they had been ordered against that part of the pa which had been built stronger than any other, and which had not been fired at at all by the big guns. the reason why this part of the pa was the strongest was, because it was the part which had been originally built by pene taui as a pa for himself. he had begun it at the beginning of the war, and built it at his leisure, and made it very strong. and also that part of the pa was the nearest to the forest; so all the largest and heaviest timber, which was difficult to move, was put there. but when heke and kawiti fell back to ohaeawae, this original pa was found too small to hold their people; so they enlarged it very much; but, being in a great hurry, expecting the soldiers back from auckland, they could not take time to make the new part so strong as that which had been first built by taui; but, nevertheless, by working hard day and night, they made it very strong. so the soldiers marched on silently and in good order, in full view of the pa, till they came opposite to the part they were about to attack, and then they halted in a little hollow to prepare for the great rush. but all this was done quietly, and in an orderly manner. the chiefs did not make speeches, or jump, or stamp about as we maori do to encourage the men, but all was quiet, and silent, and orderly, as if nothing uncommon was about to take place. i took great notice of this, and did not know what to think; for, when we maori have determined to do a desperate thing like this, we are all like mad men, and make a great clamour, rushing towards the world of darkness (_te po_) with great noise and fury. while the soldiers were advancing, walker and all the people went and took up a position behind the pa, so that in case the soldiers got in, the retreat of the enemy would be cut off, in case they attempted to escape in that direction. now the defenders of the pa perceived that the time of battle was come, and all went to their stations, and the chiefs stood up and made speeches, each to his own family. this was the speech of haupokeha--"have great patience this day, o children and friends; we have said 'let us fight the soldiers,' and behold the rage of the soldier is at hand; be brave and enduring this day; be victorious; the parent who maintains us is the land--die for the land!--die for the land!" other chiefs spoke to the people, and some of the young men left the trenches, and called to the old men to lead them out to fight the soldiers in the open plain before the pa; but haupokeha, in great anger, said, "no; this shall not be done: return to your stations, and you shall see the enemy walk alive into the oven: they are coming only to their own destruction." at this moment the bugle sounded, and the soldiers came charging on, shouting after the manner of european warriors, and those who were on walker's hill shouted also; and we maori behind the pa shouted also; and the whole valley resounded with the anger of the pakeha! soon the soldiers were within twenty fathoms of the fort; and then the fire darted from under the pekerangi; the noise of guns was heard, and the foremost soldiers fell headlong to the ground. but the soldiers are very brave: they charged right on, and came up to the pekerangi, which is the outer fence, and began to tear it to pieces with their hands. then philpots, when he saw the sailors charge, left the big gun and ran across the plain, and joined them; and he, being a _toa_, shouted to his men to be resolute, and destroy the fence; and then, with one pull, the sailors brought down about five fathoms of the pekerangi; and then they were before the true fence, which being made of whole trees placed upright and fixed deeply in the ground, could not be pulled down at all. all this time the fire from inside through the loopholes continued unceasingly, at the distance of one arm's length from where the soldiers were standing, and also a heavy fire came from a flanking angle at a distance of ten fathoms; and in this angle there was a big gun; it was heavily loaded with powder, and for shot there was put into it a long bullock chain, and this was fired into the midst of the soldiers, doing great damage. so the soldiers fell there, one on the other, in great numbers; but not one thought of running away. and philpots did all a man could do to break down the inside fence, but it could not be done at all; so he ran along this fence till he saw a small opening which had been made to fire a big gun through, and he tried to get through this opening, at the same time calling to his men to follow. then the people in the pa saw him, and about ten men fired at him, but all missed, and he almost got into the midst of the place, still calling on his men to follow, when a young lad fired at him, and killed him dead at once. so he lay there dead with his sword in his hand, like a toa as he was; but the noise and smoke, shouting and confusion, were so great as to prevent his men from perceiving that he was killed, and bearing off his body, for such is the appearance of war. also, a chief of the soldiers was killed (captain grant), and another died of his wounds, and there was a long line of dead and wounded men lying along the outside of the fence, and soon all would have been killed, but the chief of the soldiers, seeing this, sounded a call on the tetere (bugle) for them to retreat. and then, but not before, the soldiers began to run back, taking with them most of the wounded; but about forty dead were left behind, under the wall of the pa. this battle did not take up near so long a time as i am telling of it, and in it about one hundred and ten europeans were killed or wounded. great is the courage of the soldiers! they will walk quietly at the command of their chiefs to certain death; there is no people to be compared to them; but they were obliged to retreat. the number of men in the fort was about one hundred and seventy, and the part attacked was defended by the hapu of pene taui, in number just forty men. so the war runners ran through all the north, saying--"one wing of england is broken, and hangs dangling on the ground." before saying any more of this fight, i must tell you of two slaves--one called peter, who belonged to kaetoke, and the other called tarata, who belongs to ti kahuka. many years ago tarata went to england in a large ship, and having gone ashore to see what he could see, he lost his way in the great town called london. so, in the night, the police found him wandering about, and took him prisoner, and put him in the whareherehere (watch-house), for they thought he had stolen a bundle of clothes which he was carrying. in the morning they brought him before the chief and accused him, but tarata had not been able to learn to speak english, so he could not defend himself, or say from whence he came; so he thought he was going to be killed, and began to cry. just then a ship captain came into the house, and seeing tarata he knew he was a maori, and spoke to him in maori, and told him not to be afraid, and then he turned to the chief of the police and made a speech to him, and to all the people who were assembled there to see tarata killed, as he believed; but when the ship captain had done speaking, the chief of the police was no longer angry, and said, "poor fellow, poor fellow;" and then all the people present gave each a small piece of money to tarata. some gave sixpence, some a shilling, and some a few coppers; the chief of the police gave tarata five shillings. when all the money was together there was more than ever tarata had seen before, so he was very glad indeed; and a policeman went with him and showed him the way to his ship, and took care of him, lest he should be robbed of his money. after this tarata returned to new zealand, and many years after he came with his chief to the war to help walker. so at ohaeawae, when he saw the soldiers going to the attack, he thought of the goodness of the people of england, and so he said, "i will go and die along with these soldiers." then, when peter, the slave of kaetoke, heard this, he said, "i also am a pakeha; i have been reared since a child by the europeans; they have made me a man, and all the flesh on my bones belongs to them." so these two slaves ran quickly and took their place with the _wakaka_ (forlorn-hope, or leading party) of the soldiers, but when the chief of that party saw them, he ordered them to return; but they persisted in going on, so the soldier ran at them and cut at them with his sword, and his soldiers were shouting and running on. so the two slaves stood to one side, but would not return, and when the soldiers had passed, they followed them up to the fence of the pa, and stood there firing into it till the soldiers fell back, and afterwards, when the soldiers retreated, they carried off one wounded soldier who had been left behind. after the fight, the chief of the soldiers sent some people with a white flag to the pa, to ask permission to take away the dead soldiers who lay beside the fence. they were told that they might come and take them next day. soon after the flag had returned it was night, and then many near friends of heke came from kaikohe and entered the pa, for they had heard that the soldiers had been beaten off, and this gave them courage to come, which they had not before, and then late in the night they joining with the men of the pa danced the war dance which is appropriate to victory, and sang the song of triumph as they danced, and the song sounded among the hills in the night like thunder. this was the song-- e tama te uaua, e taima te maroro, ina hoki ra te tohu! o te uaua. kei taku ringa, e mauana. te upoko. o te kawau tatakiha! o youth, of sinewy force, o men of martial strength, behold the sign of power! in my hand i hold the scalp, of the kawau tatakiha. and often in the night the watch-cry of the pa was heard, and this was the cry of the pa--"come on! come on! soldiers, for revenge, come on! stiff lie your dead by the fence of my pa--come on, come on!" and also a great shouting and screaming was heard, which the soldiers thought was the cry of one of their men being tortured; but the noise was the voice of a priest who was then possessed of a spirit. but, nevertheless, the body of one soldier was burned that night, for as the people were mending the fence by torchlight there was a dead soldier lying near, and they put a torch of kauri resin on the body to light their work, which burnt the body very much, and caused the report to be spread afterwards, when the body was found by the soldiers, that the man had been tortured; but this was not true, for the man was dead before the fire was thrown on the body. during the night a report arose amongst the maori of walker's camp--i don't know how or from what cause--that the soldiers were about to decamp under cover of darkness, and that the chief of the soldiers had proposed to shoot all his wounded men to prevent them falling alive into the hands of the enemy. when we heard this we got into a state of commotion and great alarm, and did not know what to do. i ran off to a hut where an old pakeha friend of mine slept, and having aroused him, i told him what i had heard, and asked him if such things ever had been done by his countrymen, and also what he thought would be best for us to do. my friend said nothing for some time, but lit his pipe and smoked a little, and at last he said, "such a thing has never yet been done by english soldiers, and be assured will not be done to-night; but, nevertheless, go you to all your relations and those who will listen to your words, and make them watch with their arms in their hands till daylight. i will do the same with my friends, for, perhaps, the soldiers might go to-night to take away the wounded to the waimate and then return: who knows? and in the morning, perhaps, the enemy may think they are gone away entirely, and may come out of the pa; so, in that case, you and i will elevate our names by fighting them ourselves, without the soldiers." so i and my pakeha friend watched all night with the people, until the sun rose. but the soldiers did not go away that night, so i suppose the report was false, but it alarmed us much at the time, and some of us were very near running away that night.[ ] [footnote : this report actually was really spread in the camp the night after the attack. it struck the natives with consternation, and there are those who still believe that there was _some_ foundation for it, and that a retreat had been talked of.] when the morning came, a party went to bring away the bodies of the dead. the people of the pa had drawn them to a distance from the fence, and left them to be taken away, so they were taken and buried near the camp; and when this was done, the soldiers began to fire on the pa, and the war began again. but the body of the soldier chief who had been killed was not given up, for much of the flesh had been cut off. this was done by the advice of the tohunga, so that the soldiers having been dried for food they might lose their _mana_ (_prestige_, good fortune), and be in consequence less feared. and the scalp had been taken from the head of philpots to be used by the tohunga in divination to discover the event of the war. this was not done from revenge or ill-will to him, but because, as he was a _toa_ and a chief, his scalp was more desirable for this purpose than that of an ordinary person. so the foliage of the battle-field was taken to the atua wera that he might perform the usual ceremonies, and cause the people to be fortunate in the war.[ ] [footnote : amongst other superstitious native customs, when a battle has been fought, the victorious party send to their priest, no matter how far he may be off, a collection of the herbage actually growing on the field of battle; he takes it and performs with it certain ceremonies, and sends back the messenger with his advice, &c., &c. this is called sending the _rahu rahu_ of the battle field. _rahu rahu_ is the name of the _fern_ which is the most common plant in the north island.] when the people in the pa saw that, although the soldiers had lost so many men, they were not dismayed, and seeing also that the inner fence was beginning to give way before the fire of the big gun, they made up their minds to leave the pa in the night, so that the soldiers should not have an opportunity to revenge themselves. so in the night they all left, and went to kaikohe, without it having been perceived that they were gone. however, before they had been gone very long, walker's people began to suspect what had taken place, for the dogs in the deserted pa were howling, and the watch-cry was no longer heard. so a man called tamahue entered it cautiously, and found it deserted. he crept on softly, and in entering a house he put his hand on a woman who had been left behind asleep, so he kept quiet to see if the sleeping person would awake; and he began to believe that the people had not left the pa, and was about to kill the sleeping person for _utu_ for himself, for he did not expect to escape alive, there being so many pits and trenches which he could not see in the dark. he, however, thought it would be best first to examine the other houses. this he did, and perceived that the place was deserted, for all the other houses were empty. the only weapon tamahue had was a tomahawk, for he had lost his left arm at a great battle at hokianga some years before, and was therefore unable to use a gun. so he returned to the sleeping person, and jumped upon her, and raised his hand to strike, for he did not know it was a woman who was sleeping there, but thought it was a warrior. but though he had but one arm he did not call to his brother, who was close outside the pa, for he intended to strike the first blow in the inside of this fortress himself. you must know that we maori think this a great thing, even though the blow be struck only against a post or a stone. but tamahue being naked, as all good warriors should be when on a dangerous adventure, his bare knees pressed against the breast of the sleeping person, and then he perceived it was a woman, so he struck his tomahawk into the ground only, and having taken her prisoner, he called his brother, and they returned to the camp, and gave information that the pa was deserted. then all at once there arose a great confusion. all the maori and most of the soldiers ran off to the pa in the dark, and they tumbled by tens into the pits and trenches, which were in the inside of the place. the soldiers ran about searching for plunder, and quarrelling with the maori for ducks and geese. there was a great noise, every one shouting at once, and as much uproar as if the place had been taken by storm; and so this was how ohaeawae was taken. in the morning the soldiers dug up the dead of the enemy, nine in number, being in search of the body of the soldier chief who had been killed in the attack. they found the body and also that of the soldier which had been burned; and besides the nine bodies of the enemy's men which the soldiers dug up, there was also found the body of a woman lying in the pa, which made ten the people of the pa had lost. while the soldiers were doing this, all the maori went in pursuit of the enemy as far as kaikohe; and when they got there a certain pakeha met them, and spoke angrily to the chiefs for pursuing heke's people, and told us that our souls would be roasted in the other world for making war on sunday--for it was on sunday this happened. so the chiefs thought that perhaps it might be unlucky to fight on the _ratapu_; they, therefore, only set fire to heke's house at kaikohe, and returned to the camp at ohaeawae. but before the war was over, we all found that the soldiers did not mind sunday at all when any harm could be done on it; but when there was nothing else to do they always went to prayers. after this the soldiers burned the pa, and went back to the waimate, where they built a fort, and stayed some time, and there they buried philpots; and we maori still remember philpots, for he was a generous, brave, and good-natured man. but now years have gone by, and his ship has sailed away--no one knows where--and he is left by his people; but sometimes a pakeha traveller may be seen standing by his grave. but the europeans do not lament so loudly as we do; they have perhaps the same thought as some of us, who say that the best lamentation for a _toa_ is a blow struck against the enemy. while the soldiers were staying at waimate, kawiti left kaikohe, and went to his own place at the ruapekapeka, and fortified it, making it very strong; but heke remained at tautora, not yet cured of his wound. there was a pa near waimate, belonging to te aratua, and the soldiers went to attack it; but when te aratua heard they were coming, he left it, and so the soldiers took it, and burned it, without any opposition. some time after this the soldiers left waimate, and went to the bay of islands, where others joined them. the sailors came also in the ships of war, and with them came also the pakeha maori; and there was a great gathering, for the soldiers had heard that the fort of kawiti at the ruapekapeka was completely finished and ready for war, and therefore they prepared to attack it. walker also, and the other chiefs with their people, joined the soldiers as before; and when we were all together we formed a grand war party--the greatest that had been seen during the war. the soldiers forgot nothing this time. they brought with them all their arms of every kind. they brought long and short big guns, and rockets, and guns the shot of which bursts with a great noise. nothing was left behind. we were glad of this, for we wished to see the full strength of the soldiers put forth, that we might see what the utmost of their power was.[ ] [footnote : the friendly natives never lost sight of the possibility that they themselves might some day have to fight us. they therefore scrutinized closely all our military proceedings, and were anxious to see us do our very best, or rather, our _worst_, so that they might know what they would have to contend against.] so this great war party left the bay of islands, and went up the river to attack kawiti at the ruapekapeka. they went in boats and canoes, and having arrived at the pa of tamati pukututu, they landed the guns, and powder, and provisions, and began making a road to the ruapekapeka. and after many days, the road being completed, the _taua_ advanced, and encamped before the ruapekapeka. during the first two days there was not much done, but when all had been got ready, the soldiers began to fire in earnest--rockets, mortars, ship guns, long brass guns--all burst out firing at once. we were almost deaf with the noise, and the air was full of cannon balls. the fence of the pa began to disappear like a bank of fog before the morning breeze. so now we saw that the soldiers had at last found out how to knock down a pa. but before the fence was completely broken down, the chief of the soldiers ordered his men to rush up to the pa as they had done before at ohaeawae. the soldiers were about to do so, for they are a very obedient people, when moses, with much difficulty, persuaded the chief of the soldiers not to let them go, by telling him that he was only going to waste all his men's lives, and advising him to wait till the fence was entirely gone before he made the attack. we all disliked this soldier very much, and saw that he was a very foolish, inexperienced person, and also that he cared nothing for the lives of his soldiers; but we thought it a great pity to waste such fine well-grown men as the soldiers were, without any chance of revenge. so the guns fired away, and after a few days the fence was completely down in many places, for the shot came like a shower of hail; but not many were killed in the pa, for they had plenty of houses under ground which the shot could not reach; but they were out of all patience, by reason of the pot guns (mortars). these guns had shot which were hollow exactly like a calabash, and they were full of gunpowder, and they came tumbling into the pa, one after another, and they would hardly be on the ground before they would burst with a great noise; and no sooner would one burst than another would burst; and so they came one after another so fast that the people in the pa could get no rest, and were getting quite deaf. these guns, however, never killed any one. they are a very vexatious invention for making people deaf, and preventing them from getting any sleep. one good thing about them is, that, whenever one of the shots does not burst, a considerable number of charges of powder for a musket can be got out of it; and whenever one dropped close to any of the men in the pa, he would pull out the _wicki_ (fuse), and then get out the powder. a good deal of powder was procured in this way. the pot guns are to make people deaf, and keep them from sleeping; the rockets are to kill people and burn their houses. a rocket knocked off the head of a woman in the pa, but did not hurt a child she had on her back at the time. another took off the head of a young man of the kapotai; another took out the stomach of a slave called hi; he belonged to the wharepapa chief of the ihutai. this slave lived till night, crying for some one to shoot him, and then died. one man was killed by a cannon ball which came through the fence and knocked his leg off as easily as if it had been a boiled potato. the man was a warrior of the ngati kahununu, from the south; when he saw his leg was off above the knee, he cried out, "look here, the iron has run away with my leg; what playful creatures these cannon balls are!" when he said this, he fell back and died, smiling, as brave warriors do. there was not many killed in the pa, for the people kept under ground; neither did the soldiers lose many men, for they kept at a distance, and let the big guns and rockets do all the work. one evening a strong party rushed out of the pa and attacked walker's men, and a pretty smart fight ensued. now, this party were for the most part of the kapotai tribe, who had killed hauraki at waikare, and among walker's men were several young men, cousins of hauraki, who had come to seek revenge; and these young men fought with great spirit, and one of them killed ripiro, a kapotai, and took his name.[ ] some others of the kapotai were killed, and others wounded, but none of walker's men were killed, and only a few wounded. amongst the wounded, however, was that brave warrior wi repa, who had three fingers of his left hand shot off, being the second time he had been wounded during the war. [footnote : it is a common practice when a native has killed a man of any note in battle, for the party who killed the other to commemorate the exploit by taking the name of the dead man.] by this time the fences of the pa were broken down very much, but the people waited patiently, in expectation that the soldiers would come on to the attack, for they thought that, though the soldiers would take the place, they would be able to kill many of them, and then escape into the forest behind the pa. but the guns and rockets kept firing on, and the people began to be quite tired of hearing the shells bursting all about them continually, when heke, who had recovered from his wound, arrived with seventy men. as soon as heke had observed the state of the pa, and how things were, he said, "you are foolish to remain in this pa to be pounded by cannon balls. let us leave it. let the soldiers have it, and we will retire into the forest and draw them after us, where they cannot bring the big guns. the soldiers cannot fight amongst the kareao; they will be as easily killed amongst the canes as if they were wood-pigeons." so all the people left the pa except kawiti, who lingered behind with a few men, being unwilling to leave his fort without fighting at least one battle for it. the next day after heke's arrival was sunday. most of the soldiers had gone to prayers; many of heke's people were at prayers also, and no one was in the pa but kawiti, and a few men who were in the trenches asleep, not expecting to be attacked that day. but william walker turau (walker's brother) thought he perceived that the pa was not well manned, so he crept carefully up to the place and looked in, and saw no one; but kawiti with eleven men were sleeping in the trenches. turau then waved his hand to walker, who was waiting for a signal, and then stepped noiselessly into the fort. then walker and tao nui with both their tribes came rushing on. the soldiers seeing this left prayers, and with the sailors came rushing into the pa in a great crowd--sailors, soldiers, and maori all mixed up without any order whatever. when the pa was entered the soldiers set up a great shout, which awakening kawiti, he started up with his eleven men, and saw his pa was taken. how could it be helped? so he and his men fired a volley, and then loaded again, and fired a second volley, which was as much as he could do. then they ran away and joined heke at the rear of the pa, where he called aloud to the ngapuhi to fight, and not allow his pa to be taken without a battle.[ ] [footnote : kawiti seeing that all the other forts had made so good a defence wished not to abandon his without standing an assault. heke, however, who was the best general, saw the place would soon become quite untenable from the fire of the artillery, and advised an immediate retreat to the border of the forest; he, however, had great difficulty to get kawiti, who had a good deal of the bulldog in him, to retreat. the old chief, however, _did_ fire a volley in the inside of the place when the soldiers entered, which he considered saved his honour, as it could not be said he left his fort without fighting.] then the ngapuhi returned to attack their own pa, which was full of soldiers, and creeping up behind rocks and trees they began to fire, and called out in english, "never mind the soldiers! never mind the soldiers!" they did this hoping to enrage the soldiers, and cause them to leave the pa, and follow them into the forest; but most of the soldiers remained in the pa firing through loopholes, for the back of the pa which was now attacked by the ngapuhi was yet entire, not having been so much broken down by the big guns as the front side had been. a few sailors and soldiers, however, went out at a little gate at the back of the pa, but were no sooner out than they were shot by the people behind the trees. at last some forty or fifty soldiers got out, and a fight began outside. but heke and the main body of his men remained at a distance beside the thick forest, in hopes that the party who were fighting the soldiers would soon fall back, and so lead the soldiers to follow them into the forest, where heke had his ambush prepared for them. but these people did not retire as they should have done, for a report was heard that kawiti had been killed or taken, and this enraged them so much that they would not retreat, and they remained there trying to retake the pa. but they lost many men, for hundreds were firing at them from loopholes in the pa, besides the soldiers who were close to them outside. many soldiers were killed or wounded who might have escaped being hurt if they had got behind trees; but these men did not care about covering themselves when they might have done so. the maori at one time charged, and there was among them a young half-caste; he had in his hand a broad, sharp tomahawk with a long handle, and he rushed upon a sailor, and using both hands he struck him on the neck, and the head fell over the man's shoulders nearly cut off. this was the only man killed by stroke of hand in this fight. at last heke sent a man to tell the people to fall back; but they said they would not do so, but would all die there, for kawiti had been taken. then the messenger told them that kawiti was safe and well with heke, and that he had just seen him; so when they heard this they fell back at once, but the soldiers did not follow, being restrained by their different chiefs. so the fight ended, and the ruapekapeka was taken, and this was the last fight of the war. there were killed in this fight of heke's people twenty-three men, and heke wrote their names in a book, and also the names of all others who had fallen in the war. how many men the soldiers had killed in the fight i do not know, but i don't think they lost quite so many as the maori, for most of them were firing through the loopholes of the pa and out of the trenches, and so were well sheltered. one soldier, as i have heard say, was shot by another, because he was going to run away. i don't think it right to do this. when a man feels afraid who is ordinarily of good courage, it is a sign that he will be killed, and he ought to be allowed to go away. it is bad to disregard omens. when a man feels courageous let him fight, and he will be fortunate. next day, heke, kawiti, and all the people began to consult as to what should be done; for the fort was taken, and they had no provisions, and there was none at any of their other places--all having been consumed or wasted during the war, and but little had been planted. and the people told the chiefs that they could not live on fern root and fight the soldiers at the same time. they began to say to the chiefs, "can shadows carry muskets?" they were much perplexed, and some proposed to break up into small parties, and go and live with different tribes who had not taken part in the war, but amongst whom they had friends or distant relations. after talking over this plan for some time it was found it would not do, for already some chiefs of distant tribes had said they would give up any one who came to them to the governor, rather than bring a war against themselves. at last it was proposed to write to the governor to ask him to make peace. so the letter was written and sent, but no one expected the governor would make peace so quickly. he, however, consented at once to make peace, and so peace was made, and heke's people were very glad indeed. but the chiefs who had been on the side of the soldiers were very sorry, for had the war been continued a little longer, heke's people would have been starved and scattered, and walker's people could have taken their land in various places; and, also, after they had been obliged to scatter about the country to obtain subsistence, many would have been taken prisoners, and they never would have had courage to fight again. when heke saw that peace was sure to be made, he went away to tautoro, and said he did not want peace to be made, but that if the governor came to him and asked for peace he would consent. heke is a man of many thoughts. so heke kept at a distance at his own place, and never made peace with the governor or walker, until walker at last came to him, and then heke said that as walker had come to him there should be peace, but that until the governor came also and asked for peace, he would not consider it fully made. well, no one thought that the governor would go to see heke, for we think that whoever goes first to the other, is the party who asks for peace. but the governor _did_ go to see heke, and shook hands with him, but heke has never gone to see the governor; and now the war is over, and heke is the greatest man in this island, and will be king by-and-by. all the europeans are afraid of him, and give him anything he asks for, or if they refuse he takes it, and no one dare say anything to him. great is the courage of the maori people! you have now heard how they made war against the noble people of england, and were not quite exterminated, as many expected they would be. but heke, their chief, is a very knowing man; he is learned even in european knowledge. i will tell you how he has become possessed of this knowledge, which enabled him to make war successfully against the soldiers. he has a european friend who has been a very great warrior--a very experienced warrior indeed. it was he who overcame the great soldier of france, buonaparte, and afterwards in a great sea-fight he defeated and killed the great war-chief of england, wellington. besides, he gained many other battles by sea and land, and he wrote all his wars in two books. now, he lent heke the first of these books to show him how to fight with the soldiers, which is the reason he has been so successful, but if he had had the second book he would have taken auckland, and been king of new zealand long ago; but he will get it by-and-by. i never saw this book, and heke never shows it to any one, for he wants to keep all the knowledge to himself. now, what are you laughing at? it is no use to tell me that wellington is alive yet. heke's pakeha killed him long ago--before you were born, perhaps. you are only a young man; what do you know about it? the wellington you mean is some other wellington; but the great soldier wellington, of england, was killed long ago by heke's pakeha. the governor is not near so great a man as this friend of heke's, and is afraid of him.[ ] [footnote : hundreds of natives believed firmly in this absurd story before and during the war. in the present day ( ), when these notes are written, "young new zealand" would only laugh at it. but formerly this and other equally ridiculous tales were not only believed but had very serious effects. heke was not the author of the story, but he found it to his hand, added the "_books_" to it, and turned it to his account. his "pakeha friend" is still extant, as well as the other "pakeha" who endeavoured to prevent walker's people from taking our part in the war, but they are not by any means such "great men" as in the days when it was believed that one of them was the conqueror of both wellington and buonaparte!] this has been a great talk. what payment are you going to give me? give me that bottle of rum. i am _so_ thirsty with talking. don't shake your head; i _must_ have it. oh, how sweet rum is! there is nothing in the whole world so good. i know a pakeha, who says, if i will get him a big pot, and some old gun-barrels, he will show me how to make rum out of corn. don't take that bottle away. come, give it me. you are a chief. give me the bottle. you are not afraid of the law. i am a great chief; _i_ am not afraid of the law. i will make plenty of rum, and sell it to the pakeha, and get all their money, and i will have a house, and tables, and chairs, and all those sort of things for people to look at; and when the governor comes to see me, i will scatter money all about the floor, so that when the governor sees how much more money i have than he has, he will be quite ashamed, and think himself not near so great a chief as i am. i will have fifty pakeha servants, and they shall all work for me one day, and i will make them drunk the next for payment, and the next day they shall work, and the next get drunk, and there shall not be a watch-house in the whole land.[ ] [footnote : this _convivial_ scene with my friend the chief is no fiction, but a faithful relation, like everything else in this book, of what actually was said and done. it certainly does not come into the "history of the war," but is inserted just to give some idea of the state of things in the country districts, and the terms on which the country settlers manage to exist with their native "friends." the chief's _speculation_ in the distilling line is faithfully given word for word, as he explained it to me. but it has never come to anything, for although he actually got the "pakeha" to come to his place for the purpose of making "rum" out of corn, when he got him there he _plucked_ him to such an extent, not leaving him even a blanket on his bed, that he ran for it, and the distillery in consequence came to naught.] the bottle is empty, get me another. do now. you are my friend. give me the key! i will get it myself. you won't! i will break open the door. i will tell the magistrate you have been giving me rum. you are a slave. you are _all_ slaves. your grandfathers have all been put in the watch-house. you are afraid of the magistrate, the magistrate is afraid of the governor, and the governor is afraid of heke. you want to rob us of our country, and to hang us up like dried sharks. you _can't_. you are not able. you are cowards. _you_ are a coward! kapai heke![ ] (here exit ngapuhi chief head-foremost on to the grass-plat before the door, and so ends the history of the war with heke.) [footnote : kapai heke! tantamount to _vive_ heke! _in vino veritas_--in his cups this stout defender of the pakeha lets out that he in reality is an admirer of heke, and in another war would probably join him, being, as all the natives are, without any exception, distrustful of the european, and suspecting we intend eventually to rob them of their country. i think their chief reason for this belief is that they themselves would treat us in that way were they able, they being all plunderers and marauders, both by nature and practice, and so "measure our corn in their own bushel."] conclusion. next morning my friend the chief got up, and shook himself into shape, and begged a shirt and a pound of tobacco, neither of which i dare refuse him, and he then took himself off quietly. i have not seen him since, but received a letter from him the other day, beginning with, "great is my love to you," and ordering me to send him by bearer one red blanket, and one cloth cap with a _gold_ band, as he is going to auckland to see the governor, who he hopes to "talk" a horse and twenty pounds from, on the strength of his services during the war. perhaps when he comes back he may tell me all about his journey, and what he said to the governor, and what the governor said to him, all of which i will write down in english, as i have this "great talk," which is all i am ever likely to get for my cap and blanket. it is to be hoped the story will be worth the cost.[ ] [footnote : i am happy to be able to announce to the whole world that my friend the ngapuhi chief has been to auckland and returned safe back, having been extremely well received by the governor. i have also to inform my friends that the chief has told me the whole story of his journey, leaving out _nothing_; he has told me every word he said to the governor, and every word the governor said to him, all of which i have written in a book for the instruction and improvement of future ages, together with a plan of attack, whereby auckland would, as he thinks, be taken, sacked, and burned, which this friend of mine made just to wile away the time when not engaged in paying his court to the governor. i shall, however, reserve this last history till i see what fortune this my _wakaka_ may have.] * * * * * since the above was written, i am sorry to say that my old friend has departed this life. he was, with his brother, shot dead some years ago in a scuffle about a piece of land. in justice to the memory of my old and respected friend i am bound to say, that, according to the very best native authorities, his title to the land was perfectly clear and good. a sense of impartiality, however, forces me also to declare that the title of my _other_ friend who shot him, is also as clear as the sun at noon; there can be no doubt of this. both have clear undoubted pedigrees, which prove them directly descended from the "original proprietor." the only point of any consequence which made against my friend's title, was the circumstance of his having been shot dead. this has "made clear," as i am bound to confess, the title of the other party, which now remains without a flaw. the only thing i see against them is the fact that, during the last seven years, their numbers have been much decreased by sickness, while it so happens that the sons of my old friend, and also his brother's sons, have large families of stout, healthy-looking boys. good native casuists, on whom i can place every reliance, tell me that possibly this may somehow or other affect the title of the others. i don't know clearly how, for though i have studied "native tenure" for thirty years, i find i have even yet made but small progress. indeed, i have lately begun to suspect that the subject is altogether of too complicated a nature for a european understanding. the only safe maxim i can give on native tenure, after all my study, is as follows:--every native who is in actual possession of land, must be held to have a good title till some one else shows a better, _by kicking him off the premises_. pakeha maori. glossary. page . _no hea_--literally, from whence? often used as a negative answer to an inquiry, in which case the words mean that the thing inquired for is not, or in fact is nowhere. page . _mana_--as the meaning of this word is explained in the course of the narrative, it is only necessary to say that in the sense in which it is used here, it means dominion or authority. _tangi_--a dirge, or song of lamentation for the dead. it was the custom for the mourners, when singing the _tangi_, to cut themselves severely on the face, breast, and arms, with sharp flints and shells, in token of their grief. this custom is still practised, though in a mitigated form. in past times, the mourners cut themselves dreadfully, and covered themselves with blood from head to feet. see a description of a _tangi_ further on. page . _pakeha_--an englishman; a foreigner. page . _tupara_--a double gun; an article, in the old times, valued by the natives above all other earthly riches. page . _hahunga_--a _hahunga_ was a funeral ceremony, at which the natives usually assembled in great numbers, and during which "baked meats" were disposed of with far less economy than hamlet gives us to suppose was observed "in denmark." _kainga_--a native town, or village: their principal head-quarters. page . _haere mai!_ _&c._--sufficiently explained as the native call of welcome. it is literally an invitation to advance. page . _tutua_--a low, worthless, and, above all, a poor, fellow--a "nobody." page . _a pakeha tutua_--a mean, _poor_ european. _e aha te pai?_--what is the good (or use) of him? said in contempt. page . _rangatira_--a chief, a gentleman, a warrior. _rangatira pakeha_--a foreigner who is a gentleman (not a _tutua_, or nobody, as described above), a _rich_ foreigner. page . _taonga_--goods; property. page . _mere ponamu_--a native weapon made of a rare green stone, and much valued by the natives. page . _taniwha_--a sea monster; more fully described further on. _utu_--revenge, or satisfaction; also payment. page . _tino tangata_--a "good man," in the language of the prize-ring; a warrior; or literally, a very, or perfect man. page . _taua_--a war party; or war expedition. page . _tena koutou_; or, _tenara ko koutou_--the maori form of salutation, equivalent to our "how do you do?" page . _na! na! mate rawa!_--this is the battle cry by which a warrior proclaims, exultingly and tauntingly, the death of one of the enemy. page . _torere._--an unfathomable cave, or pit, in the rocky mountains, where the bones of the dead, after remaining a certain time in the first burying place, are removed to and thrown in, and so finally disposed of. page . _eaha mau_--what's that to you? page . _jacky poto._--short jack; or stumpy jack. page . _tu ngarahu._--this is a muster, or review, made to ascertain the numbers and condition of a native force; generally made before the starting of an expedition. it is, also, often held as a military spectacle, or exhibition, of the force of a tribe when they happen to be visited by strangers of importance: the war dance is gone through on these occasions, and speeches declaratory of war, or welcome, as the case may be, made to the visitors. the "review of the taniwha," witnessed by the ngati kuri, was possibly a herd of sea lions, or sea elephants; animals scarcely ever seen on the coast of that part of new zealand, and, therefore, from their strange and hideous appearance, at once set down as an army of taniwha. one man only was, at the defeat of the ngati kuri, on motiti, rescued to tell the tale. page . _bare motiti_--the island of motiti is often called "_motiti wahie kore,"_ as descriptive of the want of timber, or bareness of the island. a more fiercely contested battle, perhaps, was never fought than that on motiti, in which the ngati kuri were destroyed. page . _ki au te mataika_--i have the _mataika_. the first man killed in a battle was called the _mataika_. to kill the _mataika_, or first man, was counted a very high honour, and the most extraordinary exertions were made to obtain it. the writer once saw a young warrior, when rushing with his tribe against the enemy, rendered almost frantic by perceiving that another section of the tribe would, in spite of all his efforts, be engaged first, and gain the honour of killing the _mataika_. in this emergency he, as he rushed on, cut down with a furious blow of his tomahawk, a sapling which stood in his way, and gave the cry which claims the _mataika_. after the battle, the circumstances of this question in maori chivalry having been fully considered by the elder warriors, it was decided that the sapling tree should, in this case, be held to be the true _mataika_, and that the young man who cut it down should always claim, without question, to have killed, or as the natives say "caught," the _mataika_ of that battle. page . _toa_--a warrior of preëminent courage; a hero. page . _kia kotahi ki te ao! kia kotahi ki te po!_--a close translation would not give the meaning to the english reader. by these words the dying person is conjured to cling to life, but as they are never spoken until the person to whom they are addressed is actually expiring, they seemed to me to contain a horrid mockery, though to the native they no doubt appear the promptings of an affectionate and anxious solicitude. they are also supposed to contain a certain mystical meaning.