Chapter VII: Wakefield and the Wairau (2)

At this juncture Mr. Thompson seemed, for the first time, to be apprehensive of serious consequences attending his conduct, and he implored Rauparaha to save their lives. But that chief haughtily answered, "Did I not warn you how it would be? A little while ago I wished to talk with you in a friendly manner, and you would not; now you say 'Save me.' I will not save you." The whole party then retired a little lower down the hill, and there the massacre commenced. Captain Wakefield and Mr. Thompson were killed by Te Oru,[161] a son of Te Ahuta, the first native who fell in the fight, as a retribution for the death of his father. Brooks, the interpreter, was struck down by Rangihaeata and despatched by the slaves, which would account for the mangled condition in which his body was found by the burial party from Port Underwood. The rest of the slaughter, according to native accounts, was conducted mainly by Rangihaeata. His method of procedure was to glide silently behind the victims while they were standing amongst the crowd of natives and brain them with a single blow of his tomahawk. The peculiar part of the tragedy was that none of the Englishmen, except Captain Wakefield, made the slightest resistance, and even he was checked by Mr. Howard exclaiming, "For God's sake, sir, do nothing rash!" Perhaps their ignorance of the native language prevented them from understanding all that was passing around them until they received the fatal blow. But there was no struggle, no cries, except from the native women, led by Puaha's wife, who pleaded with the men to "save some of the _rangatiras_, if only to say they had saved some." No Englishman who survived actually saw the massacre, and therefore it is impossible to describe the exact method of its execution; but the colonists to all appearances met their fate with the greatest equanimity. George Bampton, who had concealed himself amongst the fern only a few yards from the spot where the tragedy was enacted, in giving evidence at Nelson a few days after the event, deposed that "he heard neither cries nor screaming, but merely the sound of beating or chopping, which he supposed at the time to be natives tomahawking the white people."

In accordance with Rauparaha's express orders, none of the dead bodies were mutilated or stripped, although Captain Wakefield's watch was taken by Rangihaeata and buried with Te Rongo, while one native furnished himself with a pair of white gloves and another with a pair of silver-mounted pistols. After burying their own dead in the Waitohi Valley, the two chiefs, with their followers, came down to the mouth of the Wairau River, bringing with them their own canoes and the whaleboat which had been taken up by Mr. Cotterell and his men. In these they went first to Robin Hood Bay, and then to Te Awaiti, in Tory Channel, where they remained a few days, finally crossing the Strait to Mana and Otaki, there to await developments.

Shortly after the skirmishing began, a Sydney merchant named Ferguson, who had been a passenger in the brig to Nelson, and had accompanied her to the Wairau under the impression that he would have a pleasant outing, had taken one of the wounded men, Gapper, down to the river where the boats had been left that morning, and, with him and the boatman who had been stationed in charge, had paddled down the river to the bar, and reached the brig that afternoon. A number of the men had also gone down the Waitohi Valley, which was then densely bushed, and by this means had evaded pursuit until they could return to Nelson by the overland route. Others, again, who had broken away from the main body had made for the sea, so that before Mr. Tuckett and his two companions had proceeded very far they were joined by eight of the original party, one of whom, John Bumforth, was badly wounded in the shoulder. Mr. Tuckett first proposed that they should divide into two parties, the one to proceed to the bar and the other to the vicinity of Port Underwood, thinking that by this means the chances of some of them reaching the brig would be increased. But the men stoutly refused to separate, and the chief surveyor then decided to proceed to the corner of Cloudy Bay nearest the port, where luckily they found one of Mr. Dougherty's fully equipped whaleboats riding in the bay a few chains off. They hailed the boatmen, and explained that they wished to be taken to the brig, which was anchored some seven or eight miles away; but owing to the heavy swell that was rolling into the bay at the time, and the large number of the party, there was the greatest difficulty in persuading the whalers to comply with the request. Even after the danger of embarking had been overcome, the headsman had almost made up his mind not to risk the voyage to the brig, but to land the party at Port Underwood. But fortune still favoured the fugitives, for at this moment another boat's crew, who had been watching their movements, imagining that they had sighted a whale, came out in pursuit, and the two boats raced for the brig, which was almost reached before the pursuing crew discovered the true position of affairs. Up to this point the whalers had not been informed why Mr. Tuckett and his friends desired to get on board the brig, but they were now told that a _fracas_ had occurred between the Europeans and the natives, that the leaders of the party were Rauparaha's prisoners; and a promise (that was never fulfilled) was extracted from the boatmen that they would convey the intelligence to the other settlers at the port, and prepare them to act as they might think best under the circumstances. The captain of the brig then sent his boats to search the shore, in the hope that other fugitives might have reached the beach; but no one was seen, and no unusual circumstance was noted except the burning of a large fire at the mouth of the river, which had been lit for some purpose by the natives. The brig then weighed anchor and sailed for Wellington, the captain, whose inclination was to enter Port Underwood, adopting this course at the earnest solicitation of Mr. Tuckett, who believed that, if assistance was necessary, it could be more easily obtained from the larger centre of population.

When the news of what had happened spread through the infant settlement early next morning, the excitement ran wild and high, and the settlers, believing that at the worst Captain Wakefield and his friends were only prisoners in the hands of the natives, immediately organised a band of volunteers to effect their forcible rescue. Their departure was, however, delayed by a gale, which had the effect of making most of the volunteers seasick; and, by the time the storm had abated, wiser counsels prevailed, and it was decided that only a quorum of magistrates and Dr. Dorset, the surgeon of the settlement, should proceed to the scene, the impression having gained ground that intercession was more likely to prevail with the Maoris than the presence of an armed force. The brig left Wellington for Cloudy Bay that night, and it was when she arrived at Port Underwood that Colonel Wakefield and Mr. Tuckett learned for the first time the appalling nature of the tragedy which had been enacted. They also learned that the natives, both resident and visiting, had hurriedly left the Wairau, believing that retaliatory measures would speedily be taken against them.

Altogether about twenty-seven of the arresting party had managed to elude the pursuit of Rangihaeata's warriors. After undergoing intense privations, some wandered back to Nelson, but most of them went to Port Underwood, a few suffering from wounds, and all from protracted hunger and exposure. The first to arrive were Morgan and Morrison, who reached Ocean Bay with their trousers worn to their knees, and they were shortly followed by others who were in no better plight. Their wants and wounds were attended to by Mrs. Dougherty, who ministered to them with the kindest of care, and it was by these few survivors that the whalers were first apprised of the catastrophe. The Rev. Mr. Ironside had heard vague rumours about impending trouble between the chiefs and the Government; but, as he had not seen the arrival of the brig, he paid no heed to them until the following Sunday, when, in the midst of a heavy rain-storm, he noticed a Maori swiftly paddling his canoe up the bay. Knowing that a native would only be out on such a day under exceptional circumstances, Mr. Ironside sent one of his mission-boys to inquire. The boy did not return, which only increased the anxiety, and later on, when a few particulars did reach the station, they were only sufficient to indicate that a collision had taken place, without any details. That night the missionary and his wife retired to rest a prey to harrowing suspense.

Next morning the storm had increased to a perfect hurricane, and as it was impossible to launch a boat, they could do nothing but wait. By Tuesday the weather had moderated, and a boat's crew of whalers took Mr. Ironside down to Ocean Bay, where the two chiefs and their exultant followers had arrived. From them the whole story was gleaned, and by them the tragedy was justified; "for," said Te Rangihaeata, "they killed my wife, Te Rongo, and they did not punish the murderer of Kuika."[162]

Mr. Ironside at once asked permission to go and bury the dead, whereupon the fiery Rangihaeata ejaculated, "What do you want to go for? Better leave them to the wild pigs. But you can go if you like." Still the gale was too severe to admit of venturing across the twelve miles of open sea; but so anxious had they all become, that next morning a start was once more made from Ngakuta, and at the imminent risk of their lives the brave crew pulled their boat across the stormy bar into the river. On arriving at Tua Marina, Mr. Ironside and his party found that all the bodies had been left as Rauparaha had directed--unmutilated. The watch of Captain Wakefield was gone, one of the pistols, which he had evidently attempted to fire, had been laid across his throat in compliance with Maori custom, and a piece of "damper," in savage derision, had been placed under his head. The body of Brooks, the interpreter, was found to be in the most mangled condition, the others apparently only having received the one final and decisive blow, when they were struck down by the enraged Rangihaeata. Five bodies were discovered in the bush close to the creek, and were there interred with the benefits of Christian burial, while those who were slain on the brow of the hill, thirteen in number, were buried close by with similar rites. This fatiguing work had been almost completed by the devoted missionary and his band of native helpers when Colonel Wakefield, with the party from the brig, arrived to assist. On an extended search being made by the combined parties, one more body was found at the point where the road turns into the Waitohi Valley, and it was buried where it lay. Probably it was that of Isaac Smith, who had either sought to escape after being mortally wounded, and had died in the attempt, or had been overtaken in his flight and killed where he was found. Mr. Patchett was buried in a single grave on the spot where he fell, and Tyrrell and Northam were interred together close beside him.

In recognition of the kindly and humane service rendered by Mr. Ironside during this critical and anxious period, the Nelson settlers presented him with a testimonial in the shape of a handsome edition of the Bible, bound in three volumes. The gift was gracefully acknowledged by the reverend gentleman in a letter to Mr. Domett, dated from Wellington on February 20, 1845.

Upon the return of the party to Port Underwood, Messrs. Spain and McDonough (the magistrate at Wellington) set about collecting, with all possible speed, all available information concerning the disaster from those of both races who had been present, and who had now arrived at the settlement. Amongst those whose depositions were taken were two Maori boys, who had both been wounded, and were being taken care of by female relatives. Their story was a general corroboration of the Maori version, and they were both unanimous in declaring that, when the Europeans were overtaken on the brow of the hill, Puaha, who was one of the first to reach them, offered them his hand and did all in his power to obviate further bloodshed by pointing out that he had counted the slain, and, as both sides had exactly the same number shot, there was no need for further _utu_. In this view Rauparaha at first concurred, but he finally gave way before the vehement protestations of Rangihaeata, who reminded him in violent tones of his duty to his dead relative, Te Rongo. He had then allowed his enraged lieutenant to work his wicked will, which Puaha and his people, being unarmed, were powerless to prevent. At the conclusion of his inquiry, Mr. Spain left for Wellington, taking the wounded with him; and those of the survivors who had escaped uninjured proceeded back to Nelson, some in the boats and some overland. Before leaving the port Mr. Tuckett was authorised by Colonel Wakefield to act as agent for the settlement until the pleasure of the New Zealand Company should be known. His journey home was rather an adventurous one, as he had a very narrow escape of being intercepted by the natives when sailing through the French Pass. Some of his companions who were venturesome enough to call in at Tory Channel, were detained there for a week by the natives, but were ultimately permitted to take their departure unharmed.

The body of Mr. Maling, the chief constable, had not been found when Mr. Ironside made his first search upon the scene of the massacre, a fact which created no surprise at the time, for it was thought probable that he had succeeded in making good his escape into the bush. But, as he had not arrived at any of the settlements, the missionary again returned to Tua Marina for the dual purpose of making an extended search and of protecting the graves already made from desecration by the wild pigs, with which the valley was at that time thickly stocked. He was successful in finding two bodies floating in the stream, being the remains of Clanzey and Ratcliffe, who had been shot while crossing in the canoe. These were reverently interred on the banks of the creek near where Mr. Patchett had been laid. The last resting-place of these men bears no mark to distinguish it from the surrounding landscape, but a plain though substantial monument has been raised over the spot where Captain Wakefield and his companions fell; while a memorial church, built by the Wakefield family, stands prominently upon the point of the hill, and solemnly presides over the whole scene.

It would be difficult to describe the intense excitement which agitated the whole colony as the tidings of the massacre flew from settlement to settlement; and in the white heat of their anger the settlers were guilty of saying and doing many rash and intemperate things. Few of them had made themselves conversant with the whole facts of the case, and fewer still stayed to reason out the natural actions of men under the circumstances. All that they knew, and all that they cared to know, was that their countrymen had been, as a Nelson settler forcibly expressed it, "brutally butchered by a parcel of miscreant savages, ten thousand of whose useless lives would have all too cheaply purchased their survival, let the cant of ultra-philanthropists say what it will." But this fierce indignation was not participated in by the Europeans alone. Flying from the scene of the tragedy, Te Rauparaha arrived with his retainers at Waikanae, cold and wet with the sea spray which had swept over him on the passage across the Strait. He immediately assembled the Ngati-Awa people and told them the tale of the massacre, holding their attention by the graphic nature of his narrative. At first his listeners were unsympathetic, but he appealed to their sympathies by feigning physical distress. Bent in body and trembling in voice, he appeared to speak with difficulty, and used a hacking cough with some effect to melt their sternness. But his most telling point was made when, advancing a few steps, he held up his shaking hands and dramatically exclaimed, "Why should they seek to fetter me? I am old and weak; I must soon pass away. What could they gain by enslaving me? by fastening irons on these poor old hands? No; that is not what they seek. It is because through my person they hope to dishonour you. If they can enslave me they think they can degrade the whole Maori race."

This was the dart that struck deep into Maori pride, and wounded their sense of honour. Instantly the tribe rose responsive to the suggestion, and weapons were gripped, eyes flashed, and the spirit of war surged in every breast. Missionary Hadfield was present, and saw the sway wielded by the old chief's oratory. He saw, too, how critical was the position, and gladly availed himself of the timely suggestion made by one of the missionary natives to ring the bell for evening prayers, and thus bring back the warriors' thoughts to a more peaceful frame. Next morning Te Rauparaha journeyed to Otaki, and there harangued the fighting men of Ngati-Toa. Here there was no need to adopt the arts of the stage. His auditors were his own followers, many of whom had been with him since childhood. They knew him and trusted him, and with them his word was law. He therefore threw off the guise of broken manhood, of fettered limbs, of tottering steps, and stood before them the bold and imperious chief that he was. His words ringing with the timbre of commanding confidence, were direct and to the purpose. "Now is the time to strike. You see what the smooth speech of the _pakeha_ is worth; you know now what they mean in their hearts. You know now that tyranny and injustice is all that you can expect at their hands. Come then and sweep them from the land which they have sought to bedew with our blood."

In these warlike counsels he was ably seconded by Te Rangihaeata, who, reasoning as a Maori would reason, had always strongly held the view that, as the white men would be certain to seek satisfaction for the massacre, their duty was to get what _utu_ they could while the opportunity to do so was theirs. He therefore joined with his chief in urging an immediate march upon Wellington, in order by one swift stroke to obliterate the _pakeha_ and his settlements. These sanguinary proposals were not preached to unwilling ears, for it was but natural that the Maori should judge the settlers by their leaders, the representatives of the New Zealand Company, whose bad faith now appeared so audaciously transparent. But there was one chief who was proof against the hysteria of blood which had seized the tribes. Side by side with Hadfield he stood like a rock above the billows of hate which surged around him, and by his calm and stedfast loyalty broke the fury of the storm. This was Wiremu Kingi te Rangitake, the Ngati-Awa chief of Waitara. His resolute opposition to Te Rauparaha's plans was an obstacle which that chief could not overcome. He carried his own people with him, while Hadfield soothed the Ngati-Raukawa into neutrality. Without Ngati-Raukawa and Ngati-Awa, Ngati-Toa was not equal to a task which with their united forces would have been a simple matter. That the Maoris had the power at this time to drive the colonists into the sea, had they chosen to exercise it, has been freely admitted by the settlers themselves,[163] so that the service which Wiremu and the good missionary Hadfield rendered to the Colony at this juncture can only be estimated at the value of the infant settlement itself. And, with regret be it said, Wellington is even now destitute of any monument to which the passing generations might point as a public recognition of the fact that these two men once stood between it and extermination.

Before Te Rauparaha was able to extend his projects for avenging his wrongs beyond his own immediate sphere of influence, he was visited by Mr. George Clarke, the Sub-Protector of the aborigines, who gave him his most solemn pledge that the Government would not attack him without first hearing his side of the question, and begged him to try and keep the natives quiet until the case could be investigated. Following close upon Mr. Clarke came Mr. Spain, deputed by the magistrates at Wellington, and empowered to speak as one in authority.[164] He strove to assure the natives that they were mistaken if they imagined that the Europeans would wage war against them indiscriminately by way of retaliation for the death of Captain Wakefield and his comrades. The question of punishment rested solely with the Governor, and, until he could decide who should be punished and what the punishment should be, there would be no act of aggression against the natives.

"Your words are very good, but who can tell what will be the words of the Governor?" was the comment of one of the chiefs upon these assurances. To this Spain could only reply by pointing to their past intercourse, and asking if during their long acquaintance they had ever known him to deceive them. Fortunately, his record stood him in good stead, and the chief agreed that he for one would help to protect the Europeans. While this discussion was proceeding, Rauparaha had joined the assembly, and at this point he rose and delivered what Mr. Spain considered "a most powerful speech." He traversed anew the events which had led up to the _fracas_, and vehemently asked, "Is this the justice which the Queen of England promised to the Maori? You are not satisfied with having taken all our land from us, but you send a Queen's ship headed by a Queen's officer to fire upon us and kill us." Spain endeavoured to expound to the angry chief the niceties of British law, under which a warrant to arrest did not necessarily imply established guilt; had he surrendered he would probably have been admitted to bail until the day of the trial, and, so far from the Queen and the Governor being to blame for the conduct of the magistrate, they had never heard of the warrant. On Spain expressing his abhorrence of the killing of the captives, Te Rauparaha admitted the error of the step, which he palliated as due to their own custom and Rangihaeata's grief at the death of his wife. He then proceeded to question Spain with an acumen which astonished the lawyer, and forced him to form a very high estimate of the chief's intellectual capacity; for his examination was as keen "as if I had undergone that ordeal in Westminster Hall at the hands of a member of the English Bar." What Te Rauparaha wished to guard against was treachery. He wanted everything open to the light of day, and the conference ended by his saying to Spain, "If the Governor should decide upon sending soldiers to take me and Rangihaeata, let us know when they arrive, because you need not take the trouble to send up here for us. If you only send word I will come down to Port Nicholson with a thousand Maoris and fight with the _pakehas_. If they beat us, they shall have New Zealand, and we will be their slaves, but if we beat them, they must stand clear."

Mr. Spain next proceeded to Otaki. There he was told that the natives intended to stand loyally by their chiefs, and that any attempt to seize them would lead to immediate reprisals. Following closely upon Mr. Spain's departure, Mr. Jerningham Wakefield reached Otaki. He came from the north, and, as he drifted down the Whanganui River, he received the first tidings of the death of his uncle. It was difficult at first to give credence to the nebulous rumours which reached him; but the constant reiteration of the same story about a fight with the _pakehas_ and the death of "Wideawake" gradually compelled attention, and ultimately received confirmation at the white settlement then known as Petre.[165] Here Wakefield was the recipient of a message from Te Rauparaha, demanding to know whether he was for peace or for war, and preferring a request that "Tiraweke" would come to Otaki to _korero_ with him. In the meantime he had sent his canoes to Manawatu, and was preparing for his retreat into the interior should he be attacked. Wakefield left Petre, and at the end of the first day he was met at Rangitikei by the old Ngati-Raukawa chief Te Ahu karamu,[166] who had gone thither with an armed party to conduct his friend safely through the disturbed district. On reaching Otaki, Wakefield went to Rangi-ura _pa_, the principal settlement, where the Maoris placed only one interpretation upon his coming--vengeance upon Te Rauparaha for the death of his uncle.

For two days Wakefield rested at Otaki, but saw nothing of the chiefs. Rangihaeata was reported to be some distance in the interior, building a strong _pa_, where it was understood that the chiefs had determined to make a stand should the authorities seek to pursue them. Te Rauparaha was at the Pakakutu _pa_ at the mouth of the river, endeavouring to break down the influence of Mr. Hadfield and Wiremu Kingi. His efforts to consolidate his forces were various, as suited the circumstances. He sought to ingratiate himself into the good opinion of the missionary natives by appearing to become zealous in religious observances; on the feeling of others he played by a recital of his wrongs; and towards the European residents of Otaki he assumed an attitude of unconcealed hostility, and ordered their removal from the district. This step he deemed to be necessary, in order that he might be free to act unhampered by spies in the supposed impending campaign against the Queen's troops, and it was this mandate which brought the chief and Wakefield face to face.

As a result of Rauparaha's prohibition, a _pakeha_ settler named White, who had been living under the patronage of Te Ahu karamu, found himself suddenly stopped at the Otaki River while in the act of driving some thirty head of cattle on to the land upon which his patron chief had invited him to settle. This high-handed action naturally aroused the anger of the Ngati-Raukawa chiefs, who had hitherto assumed that they were masters of the territory which they had chosen to "sit upon" when the division of the conquered lands was made. Te Ahu was especially angered at what he regarded as an uncalled-for encroachment upon his prerogative as a chief. He therefore announced his determination to proceed to the Pakakutu _pa_ and demand from Te Rauparaha a complete renunciation of his views. Wakefield was invited to be present, and to his facile pen we are indebted for a graphic account of what followed. The _korero_ did not commence immediately upon the arrival of Te Ahu's party at the _pa_, and Wakefield employed the interval in the kindly office of helping to dress the wounded leg of a Maori, whom he has described as one "particularly gentle and dignified in his manners." While thus engaged, Te Rauparaha approached him, and, with evident signs of apprehension as to the propriety of his doing so, offered a friendly salutation. Wakefield coldly declined to grasp the hand which he naturally believed was imbrued in his uncle's blood; and Rauparaha, immediately acknowledging the delicacy of his position, muttered "It is good," and returned to his seat. The speech-making commenced by his entering upon a lengthy narrative of himself and his conquests, for the evident purpose of riveting in the minds of his hearers the fact that he was the brain and the heart of the tribe. His story was eloquently told, for not the least of his great natural endowments was the precious gift of the silver tongue. The tale of conquest ended, he was proceeding to refer to the incidents of the Wairau, when Wakefield rose and checked him. Naturally the latter was sensitive upon the point of prejudging so dreadful a tragedy, by listening to an _ex-parte_ statement of its facts, when he was fully persuaded that at no distant date he would hear the truth disclosed before an impartial tribunal. He therefore told Te Rauparaha that he would not remain if he proposed to discuss the affair of the Wairau, but begged him to confine his speech to a justification of his extreme and arbitrary desire to drive the Europeans away from Otaki.

Te Rauparaha acknowledged the reasonableness of this request, but so anxious was he to excuse himself in the eyes of Wakefield, that his oration had not proceeded far before he reverted to the subject of the massacre. Thereupon Wakefield rose, and, walking to the stile at the outer fence, was in the act of stepping over it to proceed home, when a chorus of shouts called him back, and a promise was given that there would be no further reference to the Wairau. Te Rauparaha then earnestly addressed himself to the status of the _pakehas_ at Otaki, claiming the land as his alone. He admitted the validity of the sales of the Manawatu, Whanganui, and Taranaki, but not those of Otaki or Ohau, and insisted that the white people, whalers included,[167] must remove to those districts which the Company had fairly bought. He upbraided the Queen for sending her constables to tie his hands. "Who is she," he asked, "that she should send her books and her constables after me? What have I to do with her? She may be Queen over the white people; I am the King of the Maori! If she chooses to have war, let her send me word, and I will stand up against her soldiers. But I must have room; I must have no white people so near."[168]

Challenged as to the inconsistency of these views with his action in signing the Treaty of Waitangi, he wheeled sharply round and exclaimed, "Yes; what of that? They gave me a blanket for it. I am still a chief, just the same. I am Rauparaha. Give me another blanket tomorrow and I will sign it again. What is there in writing?" The attitude of absolute authority assumed by the chief distinctly alarmed Wakefield, who saw in it the elements of unlimited trouble for the New Zealand Company. For if Te Rauparaha's claim to exclusive jurisdiction over the land was well founded, then verily many of their purchases had been brought to the brink of repudiation. Turning hastily to Te Ahu and several of the chiefs around him, he sought enlightenment on the point, reminding them that they had frequently laid claim to large possessions in the neighbourhood, but had never acknowledged Te Rauparaha as having the least right or interest in them. Then Te Ahu proceeded in a tone of apology and regret to elucidate one of the many intricate phases of Maori land tenure which were now beginning to prove so embarrassing to the Company. He explained that when the tribe burned their houses at Maungatautari and came down to assist Te Rauparaha in his conquest, they had selected Otaki out of the conquered lands to be their future home. In times of peace Rauparaha would have made no claim to the land, nor would his claim have been acknowledged if he had. In proof of this, he quoted the scorn with which Rangihaeata's assumptions over the Manawatu had been rejected by Ngati-Raukawa; but now that the war clouds were in the air, the _riri_, or anger, had completely altered the whole aspect of affairs; the land had reverted to him who had conquered it, and Ngati-Raukawa had no land which they could call their own. "And then he rose," says Wakefield, "and endeavoured to persuade Rauparaha to change his determination. He reminded him of the 'war parties which he had brought to him on his back to assist him against his enemies, through dangers and troubles more than he could count.' He related how 'he had burned the villages of the tribe at Taupo to make them come with him to be by the side of Rauparaha on the sea-coast.' He counted how many times he had adhered to him 'in his feuds with Ngati-Awa,' and described 'how much of the blood of Ngati-Raukawa had been spilt for his name.' Te Ahu had now warmed with his subject, and was running up and down, bounding and yelling at each turn, and beginning to foam at the mouth, as the natives do when they seek to speak impressively. 'Let the cows go!' he cried. 'Let them go to my place!'

"Rauparaha seemed to consider that Te Ahu's eloquence was becoming too powerful, and he jumped up too. They both continued to run up and down in short parallel lines, yelling at each other, with staring eyes and excited features, grimacing and foaming, shaking their hands and smacking their thighs. As they both spoke together, it became difficult to hear what they said, but I caught a sentence here and there, which gave me the sense of the argument. 'No!' cried Rauparaha; 'no cows; I will not have them.' 'Let them go!' yelled Te Ahu. 'Yield me my cows and my white man--the cows will not kill you.' 'No cows, no white men! I am King! Never mind your war parties! No cows!' answered Te Rauparaha. 'The cows cannot take you,' persisted Te Ahu; 'when the soldiers come we will fight for you, but let my cows go.' 'No, no, no, indeed,' firmly replied the chief, and sat down.

"Te Ahu remained standing. He took breath for a minute, then drew himself up to his full height, and addressed his own people in a solemn kind of recitative. 'Ngati-Raukawa,' he sang, 'arise! Arise, my sons and daughters, my elder brothers and my younger brothers, my sisters, my grand-children, arise! Stand up, the families of Ngati-Raukawa! To Taupo! to Taupo! to Maungatautari! To our old homes which we burned and deserted; arise and let us go! Carry the little children on your backs, as I carried you when I came to fight for this old man who has called us to fight for him and given us land to sit upon, but grudges us white people to be our friends and to give us trade. We have no white men or ships at Maungatautari, but the land is our own there. We need not beg to have a white man or cows yielded to us there if they should want to come. To Maungatautari. Arise, my sons, make up your packs, take your guns and your blankets, and let us go! It is enough, I have spoken.' As he sat down, a mournful silence prevailed. An important migration had been proposed by the chief, which no doubt would be agreed to by the greater part of the Otaki, Ohau, and Manawatu natives, on whom was Rauparaha's chief dependence for his defence.

"I noticed that he winced when he first heard the purport of Te Ahu's song; but, while Te Ahu continued, his countenance gradually resumed its confidence. Much as I abhorred his character, I could not but yield my unbounded admiration to the imperious manner in which he overthrew the whole effect of Te Ahu's beautiful summons to his tribe. Instead of his usual doubting and suspicious manner, his every gesture became that of a noble chief. He rose with all the majesty of a monarch, and he spoke in the clearest and firmest tones, so that the change from his customary shuffling, cautious and snarling diction was of itself sufficient to command the earnest attention of his audience. 'Go,' said he, 'go, all of you!--go, Ngati-Raukawa, to Maungatautari! Take your children on your backs and go, and leave my land without men. When you are gone, I will stay and fight the soldiers with my own hands. I do not beg you to stop. Rauparaha is not afraid! I began to fight when I was as high as my hip. All my days have been spent in fighting, and by fighting I have got my name. Since I seized by war all this land, from Taranaki to Port Nicholson, and from Blind Bay to Cloudy Bay beyond the water, I have been spoken of as a King. I am the King of all this land. I have lived a King, and I will die a King, with my _mere_ in my hand. Go; I am no beggar; Rauparaha will fight the soldiers of the Queen when they come, with his own hands and his own name. Go to Maungatautari.' Then, suddenly changing his strain, he looked on the assemblage of chiefs, bending down towards them with a paternal smile, and softening his voice to kindness and emotion. 'But what do I say?' said he; 'what is my talk about? You are children! It is not for you to talk. You talk of going here and doing that. Can one of you talk when I am here? No! I shall rise and speak for you all, and you shall sit dumb, for you are all my children, and Rauparaha is your head chief and patriarch.'"

This fearless rejection of Ngati-Raukawa assistance, culminating in an arrogant assumption of absolute authority over their movements, completely won him his point, and one of the highest chiefs said to Wakefield, "It is true, Tiraweke! He is our father and our _Ariki_. Rauparaha is the King of the Maori, like your Queen over the white people." The others, full of conscious dignity in being followers of such a leader, acknowledged his authority by bowing a silent assent. Rauparaha remained inflexible in refusing to permit the cattle to enter the district, but, in deference to the urgent persuasions of the chiefs, he subsequently relaxed his prohibition against the white men already settled in the district, but stoutly refused to sanction the coming of any more.

But this effort of Te Rauparaha to consolidate his forces was in no sense the full range of his preparations. To augment his fighting strength was as much his policy as to unite those who already acknowledged allegiance to him. And this he sought to do in a quarter which, in view of past events, he would have been least expected to approach, and where his advances, once made, would have been least likely to touch a responsive chord. His scheme involved no less a delicate task than salving the wounds of the Ngai-Tahu tribe, and negotiating a friendly alliance with the men whose _mana_ he had so rudely trampled in the dust at Kaikoura and Kaiapoi. To this end he collected a number of the most influential prisoners whom he had taken at the latter place, and, bidding them go back to their tribe, charged them to use their utmost endeavour to promote a good feeling towards him amongst their people. This unexpected act of clemency--or apparent clemency--which restored to them their much esteemed chief Momo, their great warrior Iwikau, and others equally noted in their history, went far to soothe the injured pride of Ngai-Tahu, who, after much serious debate, decided to forget the past, make peace, and accede to the new proposals. As an earnest of their acceptance of Rauparaha's terms, Taiaroa at once paid a visit to Kapiti, and, as he professed to be aggrieved at the manner in which some land transactions had been conducted in the south, there is little doubt that, had an attack upon Wellington been contemplated, he and his people would have combined with their former enemies to effect the annihilation of the colonists.[169]

A fearful uncertainty thus continued to agitate the breasts of the settlers; and when H.M. ship of war, _North Star_ arrived in Wellington on 31st August, as the result of a memorial sent by the settlers to Sir George Gipps, Governor of New South Wales, she was received with a salute of guns and a display of bunting, which indicated a belief that the day of retribution was at hand. It was not, however, for four days that her commander, Sir Everard Home, was able to enter into communication with Major Richmond, the principal officer of the Government in Cook Strait. By him he was assured that "he had received various reports of meditated attacks upon Wellington by the natives under Te Rauparaha; that the chief was at a _pa_ not more than fourteen miles away, with between five hundred and a thousand of his fighting men; that Taiaroa, the chief from the Middle Island, had joined Te Rauparaha, and, having been an ancient enemy to him, had made peace; that the _pa_ at Porirua was fortified, and every preparation made for an attack on the town of Wellington." To this Sir Everard, having regard to his explicit instructions not to intervene unless the natives and the whites were at actual war, replied that, in his judgment, the circumstances did not warrant his interference, but that he would keep his ship in the harbour as a salutary check upon Maori aggression. In the meantime he penned the following letter to Te Rauparaha:--

"FRIEND RAUPARAHA,--It has come to my knowledge that you are collecting the tribes round you, because you expect that I am going to attack you. Those who told you so said that which is not true. It was to keep the peace and not to make war that I came here. You know that where many men are met together, and continue without employment, they will find something evil to do. They had best go home."

Sir Everard Home, having satisfied himself that no immediate crisis was likely to arise at Wellington, unless it was precipitated by the settlers themselves, was constrained by reports of seething discontent at Nelson to visit the settlements in Blind Bay. But, before proceeding thither, he decided to call in at the island of Mana, and there personally discuss the situation with Te Rauparaha himself. Accompanied by Major Richmond and Captain Best, he left Wellington Harbour on the morning of October 5th, and anchored the _North Star_ under the lee of Mana that afternoon.

"As soon as the ship anchored," says Sir Everard in his official report, "I landed, attended by Major Richmond and Captain Best, who commanded the detachment on board the _North Star_. We first went to the whaling station, or great _pa_, where we found Mr. Chetham (clerk of the Court), who had been sent to join us. We also soon after met Mr. Clarke. He informed us that Te Rauparaha had left that morning at daylight for Waikanae, which must have been a voluntary movement, as no person knew our intention till the Strait was entered. We immediately went round to the _pa_ where the tribe was established. Here we found no one on the beach to receive us, and, having landed, walked to the huts, where we found a few persons sitting together. Rangihaeata, they said, had fled to the bush, Te Rauparaha was at Waikanae, and, finding that nothing could be done, we returned on board."

During this visit to Porirua, the attention of the official party had been directed to the presence of the New Zealand Company's boat, which had been brought by the natives from the Wairau, after the massacre, and hauled up on the shore of Taupo Bay amongst some twelve or fifteen canoes; and this fact was made a subject of discussion next day when the frigate reached Kapiti.

Landing at Waikanae, where the interview was to take place, Sir Everard Home says:--

"We were received by the Rev. Mr. Hadfield, a missionary, a gentleman of high character and great intelligence, who, living in the _pa_ amongst the natives, knows every movement, for none could take place without his knowledge. He at once declared all the reports (of an intended attack upon Wellington) to be without foundation. Having walked to his house, which is within the _pa_, we proceeded to his school-yard, and the chiefs, Te Rauparaha, and Rere, chief of the tribe inhabiting the _pa_ of Waikanae, came, accompanied by about fifty men. I then stated to the chief all that was reported of him, and asked him what he had to say to contradict it. He replied that, far from wishing to continue the quarrel with the Europeans, which had been commenced by them, and not by him, his whole time was occupied in travelling up and down the coast, endeavouring to allay the irritation of the natives and to prevent any ill consequences arising from the provoking language and threats with which they were continually annoyed by the Europeans travelling backwards and forwards. That, for himself, he believed them to be lies invented by the white men, having been assured by the Police Magistrate that no steps would be taken until the arrival of the new Governor, or the pleasure of the Queen was known. He also declared that they all stood in fear of the white men, and asked why I had come if it was not to fight with and destroy them, for they had been told that was my intention.

"I told them that the Queen's ships went to all parts of the world, and that my object was to preserve peace rather than to make war, and he was advised to believe no reports which he might hear, but to inquire into the truth of them of Major Richmond, through Mr. Clarke or Mr. Hadfield."

The conference then dispersed, but at a later hour Te Rauparaha was sent for to Mr. Hadfield's house, and asked if he would send a letter to the principal chief at Porirua, requesting him to deliver up the Company's boat to Sir Everard Home. His reply was that he had but little influence amongst the Porirua people, but that, as he had always been against the retention of the boat, he would assert what authority he had to secure its return. He then became curious to know if the surrender of the boat would end the quarrel; but Major Richmond discreetly declined to commit himself on the point, and appealed to Te Rauparaha's position as a chief to see that justice was done. Te Rauparaha then penned the following letter, which he addressed to the Porirua chiefs:--

"Go thou, my book, to Puaha, Hohepa, and Watarauehe. Give that boat to the chief of the ship; give it to the chief for nothing. These are the words of Te Rauparaha. Your avarice in keeping back the boat from us, from me, Mr. Hadfield, and Mr. Ironside, was great. This is not an angry visit, it is to ask peaceably for the boat. There are only Mr. Clarke, Mr. Richmond, and the chief of the ship: they three who are going peaceably back to you that you may give up the boat.

"This is my book,

"TE RAUPARAHA."

Armed with this authority Sir Everard Home returned to Porirua, where, after lying at anchor all day on Sunday, he landed on the following day, and made a formal demand for the return of the boat. At first, Te Rangihaeata was inclined to resist the request, but, on receipt of a private message from Te Rauparaha that a refusal might mean trouble, he yielded the point, and the boat was ultimately handed over with "the greatest good-humour."

During the interview at Waikanae, Te Rauparaha had given the most profuse assurances that he, relying upon the promise that there would be no reprisals until the facts surrounding the massacre had been investigated, was employing his best endeavours to pacify his people. But his efforts, he said, were often nullified by the disturbing rumours which reached them of armings and drillings[170] by the settlers at Wellington, which seemed to portend war rather than peace. But the seeds of irritation and mistrust had already been sown much further afield than Waikanae and Otaki; for the natives, on leaving the Wairau, had taken with them, as well as the boat, the handcuffs and leg-irons which had been foolishly brought down by Mr. Maling to ensure Rauparaha's capture. These were sent from one _pa_ to another, and wherever they were exhibited, the enemies of the _pakeha_ were not slow to insinuate that, when the English became numerous in the land, they would provide leg-irons for the whole of the natives. The sight of these manacles, and the dark hints with which they were everywhere accompanied, created bitterness and resentment against settlers, with whom the Maoris had always lived in perfect harmony; so that before many weeks had passed away it only required a single spark of indiscretion to set the whole colony in a blaze of war. At no period of her history has New Zealand stood so much in need of firm, discreet and conciliatory guidance as in this critical juncture;[171] and fortunately the hand of authority was strong enough to prevent the spark being kindled. Acting-Governor Shortland, taking a bold but unpopular initiative, on July 12, 1843, issued the following proclamation:--

"Whereas it is essential to the well-being of this Colony that confidence and good feeling should continue to exist between the two races of its inhabitants, and that the native owners of the soil should have no reason to doubt the good faith of Her Majesty's solemn assurance that their territorial rights should be recognised and respected. Now, therefore, I, the officer administering the Government, do hereby publicly warn all persons claiming land in this Colony, in all cases where the claim is denied or disputed by the original native owners, from exercising rights of ownership thereon, or otherwise prejudicing the question of title to the same, until the question of ownership shall have been heard and determined by one of Her Majesty's Commissioners appointed to investigate claims to land in New Zealand."

The wisdom of thus holding the hands of the settlers until the title to their lands had been settled by a constitutional course was not at first apparent to the pioneers, who treated the proclamation with scant respect, and roundly abused it and its author in the public press.

"If," said one writer, "it had been the desire of its framer to hound a troop of excited savages upon a peaceable and scattered population, to destroy the remains of friendly feeling existing between the two races, to imbrue in blood the hands of both, and lead to the extermination of one or the other, such a proclamation might have served its purpose."

This style of exaggerated invective will serve to show the unreasoning pitch to which even the better class of colonists had allowed themselves to be worked by the news of the catastrophe. Nor were they content with merely upbraiding the authorities in the press and at public meetings; deputations waited upon the Acting-Governor at Auckland, urging him to take immediate steps to avenge the death of Captain Wakefield. The Nelson deputation consisted of Dr. Monro and Mr. A. Domett, and the essence of their petition was contained in the following paragraph:--

"We have no hesitation in stating that it is the general opinion of the settlers at Nelson that our countrymen who were killed at Wairau Plain lost their lives in endeavouring to discharge their duties as magistrates and British subjects, obedient to British law, and that the persons by whom they were killed are murderers in the eyes of common sense and justice."

They therefore hoped that impartial justice would be done, and that the penalties of the law would certainly overtake those whom its verdicts pronounced to be guilty. But to this and all other petitions of a similar tone Mr. Shortland staunchly refused to accede. In his reply to Dr. Monro and Mr. Domett he clearly set forth the error under which the settlers were labouring, when they ascribed the disaster to the performance of duty on the part of the magistrates, and pointed out that it might be more fairly attributed to an excess of duty on the part of those officials, in attempting to annex land which had never been legally purchased. After dwelling upon the criminality of those who were responsible for the final conflict, he proceeded:--