Chapter V: The Southern Raids (2)

The voyage appears to have been propitious enough, for, in due course, the vessel arrived at Whanga-roa Harbour, on the shores of which then stood the Takapuneke _pa_, and now nestles the sequestered town of Akaroa.[97] The coming of a ship was an event much more rare at Akaroa than it was at Kapiti, and, consequently, the natives of the _pa_ were stirred to the highest pitch of excitement, and desired to enter into immediate trade with the vessel, which they misjudged to be an honest whaler.[98] Meanwhile Te Rauparaha had carefully concealed all his men beneath the hatches, and enjoined upon them the strictest seclusion; for the success of his scheme altogether depended upon the concealment of the fact that a force of natives was on board. Acting under instructions from the chief, Captain Stewart, through his interpreter, forbade any of the resident natives to board the _Elizabeth_ until Tamaiharanui had returned; for it so happened that, at the time of the brig's arrival at Akaroa, that chief was absent from his _pa_, superintending the preparation of a cargo of flax which he had sold to an English captain. A message was accordingly despatched to Wairewa, urging him to come and see a _pakeha_ who was eager to trade. It was not, however, till the eighth day that Tama arrived, and, during all that time, the Ngati-Toa warriors had been cooped up under the hatches, being permitted only a few minutes on deck under the cover of darkness. These precautions prevented any suspicion reaching the shore; and yet some doubt seems to have lurked in the minds of the resident people, for they eagerly inquired of Cowell, the interpreter, whether there were any natives on board, and were put off with the laughing assurance that such was impossible, as the vessel had just come down from Sydney. This statement was seemingly fair enough; but, if Sydney was the last port of call, how came those _hutiwai_ burrs clinging to the clothes of some of the crew, which a keen-eyed native had just espied? _Hutiwai_ burrs do not grow in Sydney, nor upon the broad ocean. Then the lie that came handiest was that on the way down they had called at the Bay of Islands, and the sailors had probably picked up the burrs while carousing on shore. The evasion, however palpable, was at least successful in silencing the doubts which were just growing to dangerous proportions in the minds of Tamaiharanui's people, and the incident had no influence in cooling their ardour for trade, for further messengers were shortly afterwards despatched to hasten their chief's coming. When Tamaiharanui came, he brought with him his wife, Te Whe, his sister, and his little daughter Ngaroimata,[99] a name full of pathetic suggestion. He was cordially welcomed by the captain, who invited him to his cabin below with every show of courtesy and hospitality. But no sooner was the chief seated than the door opened, and, to his intense amazement, his mortal enemies, Te Rauparaha and Te Hiko, stood before him. To overpower and bind him was the work of but a few moments, and then the Ngati-Toa let loose upon him the full flood of their invective, taunting him in bitter scorn with his infantile simplicity in falling so easily into their trap. Te Hiko added insult to injury by advancing and drawing back the captive's upper lip, sneeringly remarking, "So these are the teeth which ate my father."

In all innocence of what was passing within the cabin, the followers of Tamaiharanui swarmed round the ship's side in their canoes, clamouring for admission, so that they might trade for the needful guns and casks of powder. This permission was granted to a few at a time, who, immediately they reached the deck, were conducted by the crew to the open hatchway and promptly shoved headlong into the hold, where they were secured by Te Rauparaha's men and made prisoners as easily and as simply as their chief had been. The failure of these people to return to the shore evidently did not excite any uneasiness. It was no uncommon thing for natives visiting a ship in the offing to remain for several days, or even longer, if their presence could be tolerated. Events were thus playing into the hands of Te Rauparaha more effectually even than he might have reasonably expected; and so, on the evening of the second day after the capture of Tamaiharanui, having secured all the visitors to the ship, he was now in a position to deal with those who had remained on land. Boats were accordingly got out some hours after nightfall, and a strong and well-armed party was sent ashore to attack the Takapuneke _pa_. Ngai-Tahu accounts of this fight would have us believe that an heroic resistance was offered to a cyclonic assault; but the circumstances render such an account most improbable. The place was not a fighting _pa_, and for the purposes of war was practically defenceless. The people, too, were awakened from their sleep by the tumult of the attack, and, shorn as they were of their leaders and their warriors, there was little hope of any organised defence being made. The attack therefore became a rout, and the rout a massacre; and before morning broke the people of Akaroa were either helpless captives, bound in the evil-smelling hold of a ship, fugitives flying for dear life, or lying dead amongst the smoking ruins of their ancestral home.

Having achieved a complete success, Te Rauparaha collected a quantity of human flesh for consumption on the voyage, and set sail for Kapiti, where the final scene in the tragedy was to be enacted. Tamaiharanui and his family were housed in one of the fore cabins, and apparently some degree of liberty was permitted him, for on the first night out from Akaroa,[100] he, after consultation with his wife, seized a favourable opportunity to strangle his little daughter as she lay asleep, and afterwards cast the lifeless body into the sea. This extreme course he justified to his conscience as averting the eternal disgrace of her ever becoming the wife of one of his enemies. His unnatural action, however, had the effect of rousing the fury of his captors.[101] Fearing that his next step would be to take his own life, and so deprive them of the legitimate fruits of their mission, they took immediate and adequate precautions by pinioning him fast in a position which caused him exquisite torture, and his sufferings they watched with intense delight. On the voyage northward high revels were kept by the natives, who, if the interpreter's testimony is to be credited, were even permitted to cook the flesh of their victims in the ship's coppers, without protest from the captain or any of his equally degenerate crew.

Upon the arrival of the _Elizabeth_ at Kapiti, on the 11th of November, the _pas_ were almost deserted, the majority of the people being absent in the swamps and on the hill-sides, preparing the flax which was to be Captain Stewart's payment. The news, however, soon spread that the great Ngai-Tahu chief was a captive on board, and crowds came flocking from the mainland to verify the reported triumph of their leader. The major part of the prisoners were landed on the 12th of November, and the natives now expected that Tamaiharanui would also be handed over to them at once, to be disposed of in their own fashion. But on this point Captain Stewart was obdurate, for he probably saw but little prospect of securing his flax if once the prisoner passed beyond his keeping. He therefore resisted the tribe's demands for this species of _habeas corpus_, and detained the chief, heaping upon him the additional pain and ignominy of keeping him in irons until he could be redeemed by the fulfilment of Te Rauparaha's promise. Either this was no simple matter, or, more likely still, his followers, having to some extent satisfied their craving for excitement and revenge, relaxed their efforts in the fields, preferring to discuss in the _kaingas_ the strange adventures of their comrades at Akaroa. From whatever cause, there was a distinct failure on their part to complete the contract. Day after day went past, and still a residue of the flax was wanting. At the end of six weeks, Captain Stewart was persuaded that it was hopeless to wait longer, and, probably wishing himself well out of the whole business, he handed Tamaiharanui over to Te Rauparaha, and made his course with all speed to Sydney, arriving on January 14, 1831.[102]

The prisoner was taken on shore in Rauparaha's canoe, and, at a great feast held in honour of the occasion, was surrendered to the wives of Te Pehi to do with him as they pleased. A final appeal for life was made to his captor by Tama; but Te Rauparaha took high ground, and replied that if it was a matter that rested with himself, he would most certainly spare him, but the death of Te Pehi was a calamity which affected the whole tribe of Ngati-Toa, and hence the final decision must rest with them. About the precise time and mode[103] of the unfortunate chief's death there is much doubt, for scarcely any two accounts agree, except in the central fact that Tamaiharanui subsequently met his fate at the hands of Tiaia, Te Pehi's principal widow. The most favourable view of this lady's conduct in revenging the death of her lamented husband is given us by her own tribe, who have averred that "on landing, the chief was given up to the widow of Te Pehi, who took him and his wife to her own house, giving up half to their use. They talked like friends to each other, and the widow behaved so kindly to him, that a stranger would have taken them for man and wife, rather than a doomed captive and his implacable enemy. She used even to clothe him in her finest garments and deck his head with choice feathers. This continued for about two weeks, until she had assembled her friends, or thought her victim sufficiently fat to kill.[104] She then suddenly caused him to be seized and bound, with his arms stretched to a tree, and whilst he was in this position she took a long iron spear, with which she stabbed him in the jugular artery, and drank his warm blood as it gushed forth."

Harrowing as this spectacle must have been, and awful as it is to contemplate, it must be remembered that the manner of Tamaiharanui's death was not more savage than that of many another leader of men, perpetrated in Christian countries and in the name of a higher cause. By the Maori code the death of the Akaroa chief was not only justified, but necessary to appease the spirit of the departed Te Pehi, and the more humiliating his death, the more adequate the compensation to the dead. A student[105] of Maori life and character, than whom perhaps none have had better opportunities of mastering Ngai-Tahu history, and who, from his calling, could scarcely be accused of callousness towards Tamaiharanui's sufferings, has given it as his mature opinion that, "base as the means adopted for his capture were, and cruel as his fate was, it is impossible to feel much pity for Tamaiharanui. His punishment was hardly more than he deserved. The treatment he received at the hands of Ngati-Toa was little more than a repetition of the cruelties which he had himself inflicted upon members of his own tribe." Possibly the knowledge that he would not have acted differently himself assisted the unhappy captive to resign himself to his fate. For, although he has been described as both cruel and cowardly, by one whose verdict it is not easy to challenge, this much must be laid to his credit: that neither the mental nor the physical torture invented for him by his barbarous enemies was sufficient to break down his rugged fortitude or to tame his defiant spirit.

When the _Elizabeth_ reached Sydney, the circumstances attending the death of the Akaroa chief were reported to Governor Darling by Mr. Gordon Browne, and the Governor, with commendable promptitude, ordered the arrest of Stewart and proceeded to put him on his trial. The depositions were referred to the Crown Solicitor on February 17, but that official expressed doubts as to the statutory power of the colony to bring the offender to justice, it not being clear whether offences committed in New Zealand against New Zealanders were punishable under the laws of New South Wales.[106] Darling was in no way disconcerted by this legal difficulty, but urged with some vehemence that the point should be tested, holding that it was "a case in which the character of the nation was implicated, and that every possible exertion should be used to bring the offenders to justice." Stewart retained Dr. Wardell, a lawyer eminent in his day, for his defence, and while the officers of the Crown were seeking to make good their ground, the delay was utilised to spirit away the witnesses whose testimony might be fatal to Stewart. Meanwhile, the _Elizabeth_ was allowed to put to sea under another captain, and Stewart was held on bail, notwithstanding the strenuous protests of his counsel. With the witnesses out of the way, Dr. Wardell became more confident, and boldly demanded the release of his client. But the Governor could not but be influenced by the prayer of the more honourably disposed white residents of New Zealand, who expressed the fear that their "lives would be made answerable for the proceedings of their countrymen," or by the touching appeal of the natives, who came personally to plead that speedy steps might be taken by England to put a curb upon the unbridled behaviour of her degenerate sons. The curb which Darling proposed to apply was to appoint a resident representative of the colony in New Zealand, and he suggested to the Secretary of State for the Colonies that Captain Sturt[107] should be employed in this capacity. The carrying out of this scheme was delayed by the recall of the Governor, and the appointment of Sir Richard Bourke as his successor, to whom Darling deemed it prudent to leave the initiation of a system which it would be his lot to administer.

All this time justice was tardily picking her way amongst the complicated meshes of the law, and it was not until the 21st of May that Stewart was called upon to face his trial. Even then the Crown Solicitor was not prepared to proceed upon the main indictment, but sought to get a conviction upon a minor offence, to which course Dr. Wardell took the strongest exception, and warmly demanded the discharge of Stewart's recognisances. The Crown justified its action on the ground that its witnesses were not forthcoming, for great remissness had been shown in letting them depart; and, notwithstanding Dr. Wardell's protest that it was unfair "to hold Stewart to bail in a sum of £2,000 for an indefinite period," the Chief Justice decided to adjourn the matter, and allow it to come up for consideration on a future day. When that day arrived, the Crown Solicitor was still unready, and applied for leave to abandon the charge of misdemeanour, and proceed upon the main information so soon as his witnesses were available. But his witnesses were the same intangible quantity that they had been ever since they had first vanished, and there was not the remotest prospect of their appearing. Dr. Wardell knew this, and bantered his learned friend upon his unfortunate predicament, in which he was compelled to "skip from a charge of murder to a misdemeanour, and then to murder back again." He earnestly pleaded the hardship imposed upon Stewart by these delays, for which he was in no way responsible, and claimed either instant dismissal or immediate trial for his client, who, he believed, or affected to believe, was the unhappy victim of circumstances.[108] To all this the Crown might have justly retorted that the disability placed upon Stewart was gentleness itself compared with his own conduct towards his fettered captive. Possibly this view was influencing the Court, for it still refused to take the responsibility at that stage of discharging the prisoner, but appointed the 20th June as the day on which Dr. Wardell might make application for the discharge of Stewart's recognisances. But when, after further adjournments, that application was argued on June 30th, the Crown was unable to convince the Court that the accused man should be indefinitely detained, and the Bench, reluctantly, no doubt, announced that he must be "discharged on his own recognisances in the sum of £1,000." So ended Governor Darling's sincere endeavour to make national reparation for one of the blackest crimes which have ever dishonoured the relations of the white man with the Maori, a deed which must be counted dark even at a time when the spirit of humanity seemed to slumber. Whatever palliation the apologist may find for the rough sea captain, whose occupation and environment were not conducive to the gentler qualities, it is not to the credit of a civilised community that its public opinion was apathetic in the presence of such an atrocity as that in which Captain Stewart had steeped his hands. It is to be feared that the Governor failed to receive the support from his officers, or from the community, which a jealousy for the national honour might have demanded;[109] while it is equally true that active sympathy with Stewart was largely responsible for the ease with which the witnesses were got out of the way. It was, perhaps, due to the fact that he was never brought to trial, rather than to any other cause, that no jury of Sydneyites acquitted Stewart.

The tidings of Te Rauparaha's successes in the south were rapidly filtering to the ears of his friends in the north, by the agency of the devoted messengers who were repeatedly travelling backwards to their old home. With each fresh tale of victory told by ardent tongues to wondering ears, some new hope or ambition was awakened in the breast of the Ngati-Raukawa who still lingered in their settlements round Lake Taupo. Apart from the larger migrations which from time to time came down to join Te Rauparaha, less important bands were continually being attracted by the glory of Ngati-Toa's splendid achievements. Many of these soldiers of fortune reached Otaki and Kapiti with little adventure; for there was no inclination on the part of the subdued remnant of the Ngati-Apa to risk a conflict with these fiery spirits as they pushed across the ferny hills of Rangitikei. But one small company, travelling further to the northward than was customary, came into conflict with, and met disaster at the hands of, the Whanganui people, who secured the momentary advantage of a victory. From out of this defeat, two young men, Te Puke and his brother, Te Ao, succeeded in making their way to Kapiti, where the story of their misfortune made a deep impression upon chiefs and people alike. But matters more urgent and nearer home were pressing in upon the chief, and because of lack of opportunity, rather than of desire, the day of reckoning with Whanganui must be indefinitely postponed.

The business which thus preoccupied the mind of Te Rauparaha was the need of adjusting the differences and unravelling the complications, which were daily accumulating, as the result of accretions to his forces. With the arrival of every new contingent of warriors, provision had to be made for their immediate entertainment, and for their ultimate settlement on the land, in order to leave them comfortable and contented. This their mutual jealousies made somewhat difficult, and no small measure of diplomacy was needed to avert civil ruptures, such as afterwards threatened to destroy all that unity and unquestioning devotion to his authority had accomplished. Though there was this simmering of discontent between the men of Ngati-Raukawa and Ngati-Awa, fortunately for Te Rauparaha no crisis occurred, and any ill-feeling that might lead to such an event was soon forgotten in the thrilling announcement that another attempt was about to be made to capture the great _pa_ at Kaiapoi. This decision was, we are led to understand, arrived at somewhat hurriedly, and was largely accelerated because of a vision seen by a hoary seer of the tribe, who had interpreted the manifestation as a mandate to go forward to the attack. His _mata_, or prophecy, has been preserved amongst the oral treasures of Ngati-Toa, and has been freely translated as follows:--

"What is the wind?
It is north-east, it is south.
It is east in the offing, oh!
Come then, O Raha!
That you may see the fire
On the crimson flat of Kaiapohia.
By the prow of the canoe,
By the handle of the paddle,
The hold of the canoe of Maui
May be overturned to cover it.
Then pound, pound the sea!
And stir it with your paddles.
Behold my flock of curlews
Hovering over the backwater
Of that Waipara there.
The fight will be on the other side;
Embrace it, get closer and closer.
Fierce will rage the fight."

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 1831 was sufficiently advanced,[110] these plans were put into execution, and, as far as is known, were carried out with admirable precision. The two sections of the allied forces met at the appointed place, and, with as little delay as was permissible, set off in good order across the plain. But their movements had not been so secretly conducted as could have been wished; for the fleet of canoes had been espied coming down the coast, and a breathless messenger had carried the startling intelligence to the people in the _pa_. The first impulse of the latter was to gather all the people in from the fields and out-stations, and then to consult the patron deity of the tribe, and endeavour to ascertain by a process of revelation what the issue of the invasion was to be. The Rev. Canon Stack has left on record a description of the elaborate but idolatrous ceremonial by which the movements of a wooden image, dangled in the hands of a shrieking priest, were to reveal the future. The consultation of the _atua_ was most piously performed at a spot outside the _pa_, consecrated for the purpose of this and similar religious rites. There the prescribed questions were put to the nodding image, in the presence of a trembling people, and the answer, as read by the priests, was that there was to be one defeat. This prophecy they immediately interpreted as foretelling the ultimate repulse and humiliation of the approaching enemy. So satisfactory a termination to the toro was received with much congratulation, and served instantly to revive the drooping spirits of the people, who returned in jubilant procession to the _pa_. But the gates were scarcely closed before the muskets of Te Rauparaha's men were heard snapping in the distance, as they kept up a running fire upon some belated stragglers.

That the _pa_ was surprised is now a matter of history, but fortunately for its slender garrison, Te Rauparaha did not realise how hopelessly unprepared they were. During the year or more which had elapsed since his raid upon Akaroa, the people of Kaiapoi had been deeply immersed in the endeavour to cultivate a trade with the itinerant whalers who paid their fitful visits to Whangaraupo[111] and other parts of Banks's Peninsula. In their anxiety to make the utmost of these infrequent opportunities, they had lost sight of the probability of another attack upon their settlement, and this unwary attitude had been encouraged by the fond belief that the difficulties of transporting from Kapiti a force large enough to assault the _pa_ with any prospect of success were so formidable that even Te Rauparaha would never seriously contemplate such an undertaking. How illusory these dreams of safety were, and how little they understood the dogged spirit of the man against whom they were called upon to contend, they now realised to their cost. At the moment of Te Rauparaha's arrival the _pa_ was deserted, except for a guard of old people and a number of women and children. The greater part of the population had only a few days before gone off to Whangaraupo, in company with the influential Otago chief Taiaroa, who had been paying a friendly visit to Kaiapoi. Some had gone merely to bid their great kinsman farewell; and so remote was the need of strong arms and stout hearts at home considered that many of the younger men were purposing to travel southward with him to Otakou.[112] Kaiapoi was thus practically denuded of its fighting men, and it says much for the courage and ingenuity of those who were left that, in this sudden emergency, they were able to make so brave a show along its ramparts as to utterly deceive the northern leader. Had the _pa_ been attacked promptly and vigorously, there is no room to doubt that it would have fallen, for its thin veneer of resistance must soon have been pierced; but this was one of the few occasions on which the Ngati-Toa chief's clearness of perception and promptness of decision failed him, and the price of his vacillation was a long weary siege, and the loss, to him, of many valuable lives.

As a preliminary step in the defence of the _pa_, the Kaiapoi people had hurriedly removed the few temporary houses and fences which had been erected immediately in front of the landward approach, and which would have afforded some degree of shelter to the approaching enemy. Their destruction left not only an unbroken view of the movements of the enemy, but deprived them of every vestige of cover, so that, in rushing to the assault, they had to pass over ground exposed to the pitiless fire of the defenders. For this reason, the first attack was repulsed with considerable loss, as was also a second, which was delivered with some additional energy. The defenders had entrenched themselves behind the first line of palisades, and, with their bodies protected by the deep ditch which ran the whole width of the narrow isthmus between the converging swamps, they were able to concentrate their fire upon the advancing warriors with so deadly an effect that Te Rauparaha was led to believe the defence to be much more formidable than it really was. Surprised that his coming had been so evidently anticipated and so amply provided against, and irritated to find himself baffled in his hope of snatching a victory from a napping victim, he retired beyond the range of the Ngai-Tahu guns to deliberate on his next move. As the result of a consultation with Rangihaeata, Te Hiko, and his other lieutenants, it was agreed that all hope of carrying the fortress by a _coup de main_ must now be abandoned, and it was decided to adopt the more prosaic course of investing the _pa_ and subjecting it to the annoyance and humiliation of a regular siege.

A camp was formed immediately in front of the _pa_, and so placed as to intercept the path which led to its main entrance. A wing of this camp stretched round amongst the sand-hills to the westward, so as to command the approach to the Huirapa gate. In these quarters Ngati-Toa and their allies sat down in patience, to tempt the enemy to a sortie, but ever ready to profit by any momentary looseness or indiscretion on the part of the defenders. Meantime a few of the residents of Kaiapoi who had been shut out when its gates were closed, but had succeeded in evading capture by their superior knowledge of the surrounding maze of swamps, had fled southward to carry the news of the invasion to their friends who had gone to Whangaraupo with Taiaroa. These messengers were fortunate in intercepting their tribesmen before they had departed for the south, and, at the earnest solicitation of his Kaiapoi relations, Taiaroa agreed to return and lead the defence of their fortress. All possible reinforcements were speedily gathered from the Peninsula _pas_, and the combined forces set off along the coast to endeavour to raise the siege. Their march to the Waimakariri River was rapidly executed; but here some delay was occasioned, owing to the difficulty in getting the people across the broad and rapid stream. At the cost of much labour, a _mokihi_ flotilla was constructed, on which they crossed to the northern bank; and then, fearing that their movements might be discovered if they approached nearer to the _pa_ before darkness set in, they lay down to await the fall of evening. Under the cover of darkness they resumed their march, which was still conducted with the utmost caution, more especially as they approached the vicinity of the besieged _pa_. By the glowing watch-fires which they saw in the distance they knew that the enemy was sleeplessly alert, and that any impetuosity on their part might easily prove fatal to themselves, and equally disastrous to their friends watching and waiting their coming. It had been decided that the attempt to enter the _pa_ should be made on the western side, where the swamp which fringed the fortress was narrowest, and where they could be admitted by the Huirapa gate. It is probable that when Taiaroa came to this determination he was not aware that he must pass near to a section of the enemy's camp. But here fortune favoured him, for the high wind which was blowing at the time drove those of the besiegers who were keeping watch to crouch closely over their fires, and, by agitating the surrounding foliage, aided materially in concealing the movements of the warriors as they crept cautiously through the long and waving grass. By adroitly advancing when the breeze blew with greatest violence, and throwing themselves flat upon the ground when it lulled, they drew so near to the Ngati-Toa lines that they could plainly hear the sentries conversing amongst themselves. Their position at this juncture was most critical, and in the intensity of their excitement they scarcely dared to breathe. Nothing, however, occurred to betray their presence,[113] and, at a preconcerted signal, every man rose from his concealment, and shouting, "Taiaroa to the rescue! Taiaroa to the rescue!" plunged into the dark waters of the swamp and swam towards the _pa_.

It is doubtful whether the surprise of the Ngati-Toa sentries or of the defenders was the greater, as they were suddenly aroused by the tumult of the struggling horde which had swept in upon the scene. The first thought of the defenders was that a clever ruse to gain admission to the _pa_ was being practised by Te Rauparaha, and they at once lined the walls, and began a brisk fusilade upon the splashing forms in the water below. Darkness, uncertainty, and excitement, however, made their aim extremely erratic, and no damage of any consequence was done before the voices of the leaders were recognised, and what had seemed a daring and ingenious assault was discovered to be the eagerly-looked-for succour. The firing instantly ceased, and the Huirapa gate was thrown open to the dripping warriors, who, as they emerged from the water, were received in the warm embraces of their grateful friends.

With the arrival of Taiaroa and of the Kaiapoi chiefs whom he had brought with him, a new spirit animated the population of the _pa_, and its defence was organised upon a more systematic plan than before. To Whakauira was entrusted the defence of the Kaitangata gate, and Weka was given a similar responsibility over Hiaka-rere. Other vulnerable points were similarly entrusted to the personal care of the best and bravest of the chiefs, who were not only to defend their particular positions against attack, but were to lead all sorties made by their own companies. In guarding against surprises, the garrison were greatly aided by a watch-tower, which stood close to the Kaitangata gate. This tower was no pillar of masonry, such as a Norman of old would have attached to his castle, but was merely the tall trunk of a totara tree, firmly set in the ground, on the top of which was perched a little wooden hutch, after the form of a native _whata_.[114] The sides of this cabin were constructed of thick wooden slabs which had been carefully tested, and demonstrated to be proof against any bullet fired from the nearest point to which an enemy could safely come. Before daylight every morning a faithful watcher crept into this elevated cabin, and, peering through slits cut in the sides, was able to command a view of all that was passing within the enemy's camp, and communicate the results of his observation to those within. In this way the defenders were able to anticipate and successfully counteract the tactics of Te Rauparaha, who, much to his chagrin, found all his movements checked. But the rôle of attack was not confined to the Ngati-Toa; for, in the early stages of the siege, frequent sorties were made by the defenders, though, it must be admitted, with but doubtful success. Their fighting was of a more emotional order than that of the northern men, who were desperate fellows, and just as willing to submit to punishment as they were to administer it. Their tenacity of purpose, combined with the fact that they were led by the most skilful native tactician of his day, gave them an undoubted superiority in these hand-to-hand contests; and the Ngai-Tahu defenders derived but little comfort from their spasmodic efforts to disperse the enemy's camp. One excursion of this kind, however, was more than usually heroic. Intelligence having been brought that Te Rauparaha had moved his canoes down the coast from Double Corner, where they had been left when he first landed, to the mouth of the Ashley River, Taiaroa, on a dark and stormy night, took a few men with him, and, swimming and wading through the swamps, succeeded in reaching the spot where the fleet was lying securely beached. The purpose of the sortie was to destroy the canoes. But here was furnished an example of that want of forethought which is to be so frequently noted in Ngai-Tahu warfare, and which stood in such marked contrast to the methods of Te Rauparaha. The expedition had armed itself with only light hatchets, which proved to be quite incapable of making any material impression upon the heavy hulls of the canoes. Consequently, Taiaroa and his men had to content themselves with merely slashing at the lighter timbers and severing the cordage which lashed the thwarts and side boards, which would, at least, render the vessels unseaworthy until repaired. Finding it impossible to achieve their object with the axe, an attempt was made to burn the canoes; but the blinding rain-storm which was raging at the time rendered futile every effort in this direction, and the bold little band was compelled to return to the _pa_, having succeeded in nothing beyond risking their own lives and imposing a passing inconvenience upon the besiegers.

Three anxious months had now passed since the siege began, without anything decisive having been accomplished on either side. Te Rauparaha had hoped that hunger and the losses they had suffered would have sapped the strength of the defence; but in this he was mistaken, for events were proving that the old idea, that the _pa_ could be starved into submission, was a delusion. As a matter of fact, the defenders were well supplied with food, their storehouses having been filled with the fruits of the early crops, while the surrounding swamps provided them with an abundant supply of eels. On the other hand, Te Rauparaha was frequently hard pressed for supplies; while, on the score of losses, he had fared rather worse than the defenders. Finding that he was making no progress along the orthodox lines of attack, he now decided to revolutionise his methods. He recalled to mind the words in the song of the seer Kukurarangi, "Embrace it, get closer and closer"; and, acting upon this prophetic injunction, he conceived the idea of sapping[115] up to the walls of the _pa_ and demolishing the palisades by fire. He accordingly ordered three trenches to be dug, one by the Ngati-Toa, one by the Ngati-Raukawa, and the third by Ngati-Awa, no doubt relying upon a spirit of friendly rivalry between the tribes to accelerate the work. At first they suffered considerably, for the men working in the open trenches offered a conspicuous mark to the riflemen concealed behind the outworks of the _pa_. The casualties were, however, sensibly reduced when Te Rauparaha ingeniously deflected the line of the sap and carried the trenches forward in a zigzag direction. The spademen were thus protected by the angle at which they worked, and additional security was given them by the placing of slabs of wood across the top of the open sap. These precautions almost entirely neutralised the efforts of the sharpshooters, and the sap proceeded rapidly, and with a regularity and precision which excited the admiration of those early colonists who saw the trenches before their symmetry had been destroyed.

These proceedings were naturally viewed with considerable alarm by the garrison, and frequent sorties were resorted to for the purpose of putting a check upon the progress of the work. These excursions, whether unskilfully conducted or badly executed, may have hindered the operations of the sappers, but they certainly failed to compel the abandonment of the sap. As an answer, the besiegers occasionally delivered a surprise attack, and it was in repulsing one of these that Te Ata-o-tu fought with such heroic courage that by his signal bravery he has helped to redeem the general ineptitude of the defence. The story of how "Old Jacob" (for as such he was known to the early Canterbury colonists) slew Pehi Tahau has been worthily told in the warrior's own words:--

"Towards the close of the siege, after standing sentry at the foot of the watch-tower all one stormy night, during which heavy showers of rain had fallen, and being very wet and very sleepy, I was dozing with my head resting upon my hands, which were supported by the barrel of my gun, when I was roused by a hand on my shoulder and a voice whispering in my ear, 'Are you asleep?' I confessed I was, and asked if anything was the matter. My questioner, who was one of our bravest leaders, said: 'Yes; the enemy have planned an attack, and I wish a sortie to be made at once to repel it: will you take command?' I readily consented on condition that I should choose my own men. He agreed; and I picked out six of the bravest men I knew, and got them to the gate without arousing the rest of our people. I told my men to wait while I and another reconnoitred. We entered the sap and approached the shed where the attacking party, numbering about two hundred, were sleeping, awaiting the dawn. They were lying all close together like herrings in a shoal. I motioned to my men to come on. Just at that moment one of them who had gone down another trench called out: 'Let us go back; I have taken spoil--a club, a belt, and a cartouche box.' The result of this injudicious outcry was very different from what might have been anticipated. Startled by the sound of his voice, our sleeping foes sprang to their feet and immediately bolted panic-struck in the direction of their main camp. The coast was now quite clear for me, and, emerging from the trench, I proceeded cautiously in the direction taken by the runaways. I had not gone far before I noticed the figure of a man a short distance in front of me. He had nothing on but a small waist-mat, and was armed with a fowling-piece; and walking beside him was a woman, who, from the way he kept pushing her forward, seemed unwilling to accompany him. Happening to look round, he caught sight of me, and immediately cried out to his fleeing companions: 'Come back! come back and catch this man; he is all alone!' But as no one did come back in answer to his appeal, and as I heard no answering call made, I felt confident that I had nothing to fear at the moment from his comrades, who were not likely to come to his aid till it was quite light; and that if I could only close with him, I might overcome him, and have the satisfaction of carrying his dead body back with me into the _pa_. I determined therefore to try and force an encounter at close quarters, my only fear being that he might shoot me before I could grapple with him.

"I had only a tomahawk on a long handle, having left my own gun behind because the charge in it was wet from the previous night's rain. The ground we were passing over was covered with large tufts of tussock grass, and I leapt from one to another to deaden the sound of my footsteps, squatting down whenever I saw the man turning round to look at me. I kept following him in this way for several hundred yards; fortunately he did not keep moving towards Rauparaha's camp, but in a different direction. By dint of great agility and caution, I got within a few feet of him, when he turned suddenly round and pushed the woman between us, and instantly fired. It seemed to me at that moment as if I were looking down the barrel of his gun. I squatted as quickly as I could on the ground: fortunately there was a slight depression of the surface where I stood, and that saved my life. The flame of the charge set fire to my hair, and the ball grazed my scalp: for a moment I felt stunned, and thought I was mortally wounded. My opponent kept shouting for assistance, which never came: for his panic-stricken companions, I afterwards learnt, were at the very time up to their necks in water in an adjoining swamp, clinging in their terror to the nigger-heads for support, their fears having magnified my little party of followers into an army. The shouts of my opponent recalled me to my senses, and, recovering from the shock I had received, I made a second attempt to grapple with him, but without success: as before, he slipped behind the woman again, and aimed his gun at me; I stooped and the bullet flew over my shoulder. We were now on equal terms, and I had no longer to exercise such excessive caution in attacking him. I struck at him with my hatchet; he tried to parry the blow with the butt-end of his gun, but failed, and I buried my weapon in his neck near the collar-bone. He fell forward at once, and I seized him by the legs and lifted him on to my shoulder, intending to carry him out of the reach of rescue by his own people. It was now quite light enough to see what was going on, and I could not expect to escape much longer the notice of the sentries guarding Rauparaha's camp. Just then one of my companions, who had mustered sufficient courage to follow me, came up to where I was, and, seeing signs of life in the body I was carrying, ran it through with his spear; and at the same time drew my attention to the movements of a party of the enemy, who were evidently trying to intercept our return to the _pa_. Hampered by the weight of my prize, I could not get over the ground as quickly as our pursuers, but I was loath to lose the opportunity of presenting to my superior officers such unmistakable evidence of my prowess as a warrior, and I struggled on with my burden till I saw it was hopeless to think of reaching the _pa_ with it, when I threw it on the ground, contenting myself with the waist-belt, gun, and ear ornaments of my conquered foe, and made the best of my way into the fortress, where I was received with shouts of welcome from the people, and very complimentary acknowledgments of my courage from my commanders. I owed my life at the fall of Kaiapoi to that morning's encounter. For, when I was lying bound hand and foot along with a crowd of other prisoners after the capture of the _pa_, Rauparaha strolled amongst us inquiring whether the man who killed the chief Pehi Tahau was amongst our number. On my being pointed out to him as the person he was in search of, instead of handing me over, as I fully expected he was going to do, to the relatives of my late foe, to be tortured and put to death by them, he addressed me in most complimentary terms, saying I was too brave a man to be put to death in the general massacre which was taking place, that I had fought fairly and won the victory, and that he meant to spare my life, and hoped that I would, in time to come, render him as a return for his clemency some good service on the battlefields of the North Island."

At the end of the fourth month the trenches had, by dint of incessant labour, and in the face of repeated attacks, been brought to within a few feet of the wall, and then Te Rauparaha was in a position to develop the second phase of his scheme--the burning of the hitherto impregnable palisades. For many weeks his people were employed in cutting down and binding into bundles the _manuka_ scrub which grew in abundance on the flats in the immediate vicinity of his camp, and when these bundles had been dried in the sun, they were carried into the trenches and passed along to the further end, where a stalwart warrior seized and threw them with all his power in the direction of the doomed _pa_. This was a work which cost Ngati-Toa dearly, for there was an interval of time, in the act of hurling the sheaf of _manuka_ forward, during which the body of the thrower was exposed to the galling fire of the defenders; and they placed their best marksmen in a position from which they were able to take unerring aim at the unprotected figure in the trench. Many a brave fellow who had passed safely through the stress of siege and sortie met his fate in that twinkling of an eye. But, notwithstanding the peril of the post, there was no lack of volunteers to accept its awful responsibility, and as soon as one martyr to duty went down with a bullet in his brain, another sprang forward to fill his place. So the work of piling up the combustible material went on with scarcely an interruption. At first, the defenders made bold to emerge from the gates of the _pa_ at night, and hurriedly scattered the piles of brushwood which had been accumulated during the day. But this was only a temporary respite, and no permanent obstruction to the policy of Te Rauparaha. Day by day the process went on of hurling the bundles of _manuka_ from the trenches, until at last the quantity to be moved became so great that the defenders, in their brief rushes, were unable to disperse it. Then it began to mount higher against the palisades, and every night saw the position becoming more and more critical, with scarcely any resistance on the part of the besieged.[116] Indeed, the semblance of a panic was now beginning to make its appearance within the _pa_, and the opinion was rapidly taking root that their relentless enemy was slowly gathering them within his toils. A feeling of deepest depression fell upon the populace, and proposals were even secretly discussed by some of the younger men to abandon the _pa_ before the inevitable catastrophe plunged them in disaster. Taiaroa actually adopted this course. Taking his Otago contingent with him, he left the _pa_ under cover of night, and made good his escape through the gloomy swamps. To some this might appear an act of base desertion; but it is the duty of the historian to rescue the name of so brave a chief from so dark an imputation. The secret motive which impelled him to leave Kaiapoi at this juncture was his settled conviction that some diversion must be created, during which the inhabitants would have a reasonable prospect of clearing the walls of the dangerous pile of _manuka_. His intention was, therefore, to proceed southward to his own dominion, where he hoped to raise a large force, and return to meet Te Rauparaha in a decisive battle on the open field. Events, however, moved too rapidly for him. Before he was able to give effect to his plan, Kaiapoi had fallen, and nothing remained to him but to shelter its unhappy fugitives.