Chapter VI: The Smoking Flax (1)

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,"[127] 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_."[128] 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.[129] 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.[130]

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.[131] 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.[132] 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 1839.

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.[133] 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.[134]

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,[135] 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;[136] 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.[137] 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.[138]

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 1836, 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,[139] 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,[140] 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,[141] 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[142] 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[143] 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 16, 1839. 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.[144] 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 1834, 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,[145] 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 65,000 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 1840, 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 £300;[146] 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.