Chapter VIII: The Captive Chief (1)

The decision of which Governor Fitzroy had delivered himself, as the result of his hurried investigation into the circumstances attending the tragedy at the Wairau, brought him into bitter conflict with the more influential colonists, and added to his native troubles a European difficulty, which ultimately played no small part in his official undoing. Fitzroy had, with a patriotism worthy of the best traditions of our race, sacrificed place and high prospects in the homeland to assume the Governorship of New Zealand, a post which was afterwards described by Lord Stanley as "a laborious, responsible, and ill-remunerated office in a distant colony." Without money, or the means of obtaining it, to carry on his civil administration, and destitute of military support wherewith to assert his authority, he found himself defied by the natives and thwarted by the Europeans. His appeals for soldiers were unheeded, and his schemes for supplementing his revenue were disallowed by the Home authorities, who, instead of repairing their policy of parsimony, recalled the Governor. Thus was cut short a career upon which Robert Fitzroy had entered with only the highest motives, throughout which he had acted with the utmost devotion, and in which he had failed only because with his limited opportunities it was humanly impossible to succeed. His successor in the arduous task of soothing the dual discontent was Captain Grey, late of the 83rd Regiment, who was then serving the Crown with conspicuous distinction as Governor of South Australia. His success in dealing with native difficulties there, his achievements as an explorer, added to his valuable personal qualities, were his chief recommendations for the new responsibilities which it was proposed to ask him to assume. That the judgment of those responsible for the selection was sound, history has proved; but the administrations of Fitzroy and Grey cannot fairly be compared, for the reason that, while the former was expected to rule a turbulent population without either men or money, the latter was freely supplied with both. The new Governor was further invested with the additional prestige derivable from the title of Governor-in-Chief, and from the fact that he was supported by a Lieutenant-Governor, who, in his subordinate authority, was stationed in the Southern province. Captain Grey assumed the duties of his new office on November 18, 1845. His first recorded contact with Te Rauparaha was on the occasion of his receiving from him and other chiefs a memorial, in which they expressed their anxiety to know his political intentions, and begged him to give them someone skilled in both native and European laws, who would advise them how best to avoid conflict with the _pakeha_. They were, they said, deeply anxious to obey the laws of the Queen, and just as they had teachers amongst them to lead them to a proper understanding regarding the will of God, so, in order to avoid misunderstanding, they desired some one to act as their guide and friend in the matter of the temporal law. Grey was more than gratified with this evidence of loyalty and desire for harmony, and, in his reply, endeavoured to make it clear that it was his duty so to direct his authority as to secure the peace and happiness of all under his jurisdiction. "Maoris and Europeans," wrote the Governor, "shall be equally protected and live under equal laws, both of them alike subjects of the Queen and entitled to her favour and care. The Maoris shall be protected in all their property and possessions, and no one shall be allowed to take anything from them or to injure them; nor will I allow Maoris to injure one another. An end must be put to deeds of blood and violence." This clear and explicit declaration of his determination to permit of only one law for the _pakeha_ and Maori, and to hold the racial balance justly before the eyes of the world, touched a responsive chord in the heart of the Maori nation; and Te Rauparaha was but expressing the general sentiments of the people when he wrote in reply to the Governor's message: "We have heard your words, which are like the light of day to us; our hearts are glad. Friend, now will I hold fast your words for good, and for living in quiet, both of natives and Europeans. Your protecting word has come forth for one and for the other; your kind words are a light to us. Now, for the first time, I can say the light has dawned for the Maoris, and now no wrong-doing shall spring from me. I mean the errors of the natives. If you cannot come hither, will you write to me?" Not less reassuring was the word of Wi Kingi Rangitake, of Ngati-Awa.

With these pronouncements of loyalty from the two most powerful chiefs on the west coast, Grey felt more than equal to the task of subduing the malcontent natives under Taringa-kuri, chief of the Kaiwara _pa_, whose depredations in the Hutt Valley had been causing the greatest anxiety to the Wellington settlers. Both Te Rauparaha and Rangihaeata had laid claim to part payment for the land which the New Zealand Company had purchased in this valley, their claim being based upon the alleged conquest of the country. This conquest Mr. Spain held to be incomplete, inasmuch as they had not resided on the land, which was really occupied by Ngati-Awa. He therefore disallowed their claim, although Mr. Clarke, junr., was anxious to pay out of the £1,500 awarded to the natives a sum of £400 in liquidation of their rights, he having come to some such arrangement with Rauparaha at an interview which took place at Waikanae in the presence of the Governor. Hearing of Mr. Spain's objection, Rauparaha, on February 3, 1844, penned a letter to him, Mr. Clarke, and the Governor, in which he warned them against paying the purchase-money for Port Nicholson over to "wrong parties," and listening to "strange men," at the same time urging them to make haste and come to Otaki for the purpose of explaining their intentions to Rangihaeata and himself.

"FRIEND MR. CLARKE, MR. SPAIN, AND THE GOVERNOR,--This letter is from me and Rangihaeata, respecting your foolish work in paying for the land. This was the cause of you and us going wrong at the Wairau, the foolish paying to wrong parties. Do not listen to strange men, but make haste and make known to us your intentions, that the truth of what you have said may be seen. Friend Clarke, make haste. Desist from listening to any man. Son Clarke and Mr. Spain, desist also from carrying your payment to men who have nothing to do with it, but bring it straight to us--myself and Rangihaeata. This is all my speech to you by us.

"RAUPARAHA. "RANGIHAEATA."

To this Mr. Clarke replied on the 29th, assuring Rauparaha that anything that he had promised him in the matter of payment would be carried out. Simultaneously, Mr. Spain arranged to hold a court at Porirua, in order to comply as speedily as possible with Te Rauparaha's request. This court, which was opened on 8th March, was attended by most of the leading chiefs and upwards of two hundred natives. After the preliminary addresses had been disposed of, Mr. Spain formally opened the court by saying, "Rauparaha, I received your letter asking me to settle the Port Nicholson purchase, and after inquiry I have decided that the natives who owned the land are entitled to more money, and I therefore offer you new terms." To this Te Rauparaha answered, "My wish was to settle my claims at Port Nicholson, but you want me to give up the Hutt." "Did you not consent to receive £300 for Port Nicholson and the Hutt?" inquired Mr. Spain in an injured tone; to which Te Rauparaha replied that he had not regarded the bargain in that light. Efforts were made to convince him that he had signed a deed in which the Hutt was included, but he insisted that the boundary was not to go beyond a creek known as Rotokakahi. "I am aware of the cause of this objection," said Mr. Spain. "That man sitting by your side, Taringa-kuri, is cultivating land at the Hutt to which he has no right." Te Rauparaha's answer was that the land belonged to Taringa-kuri, as he was the oldest man of the resident natives; whereupon Mr. Spain rose to depart, and as he did so he turned, and, more in sorrow than in anger, upbraided Te Rauparaha for thus breaking faith with him in so flagrant a manner.

The court then adjourned without either party having been able to convince the other. But Te Rauparaha did not permit the grass to grow under his feet, for he at once despatched Taringa-kuri to cut a line through the scrub and bush dividing the Upper from the Lower Hutt Valley, in order to define clearly what territory he considered belonged to the _pakeha_ and what to the Maori. On hearing that this work was in progress, Mr. Spain felt it incumbent upon him to go out and warn Taringa-kuri that he was committing an illegal act, and that the boundary he was attempting to create would not be recognised by the Government. Mr. Spain's reception was not an encouraging one. "If you have come to make remarks about our cutting this line, you may as well return, as we will listen to nothing you have got to say, nor will we be deterred from it by you, by the Governor, or by the Queen," was the truculent declaration of the first native whom he met. Taringa-kuri was not less uncompromising. "I am cutting a line to divide the lands of the settlers from our own, and I am doing it under Te Rauparaha's orders," was his emphatic reply to Mr. Spain's demand for information as to why this work was proceeding. And in answer to the Commissioner's protest that the line being cut was not the line agreed upon, the chief, with a fine show of indignation, accused him of hostile intentions. "It is plain," he said, "you are not peaceably disposed; you heard at Porirua that Rauparaha would not agree to your boundaries, and you appear determined to insist upon them. You had better return to the land of your birth."

Immediately upon his return to Wellington, Mr. Spain despatched a letter to Rauparaha again severely censuring him for committing a breach of faith in sending Taringa-kuri to cut the line contrary to his (Mr. Spain's) decision, and concluding by saying, "Let me tell you that after all that has occurred, Kuri is acting contrary to the laws of the Governor, and, if he persists in his illegal acts, he will be punished by the law accordingly." This letter Mr. Spain first showed to Mr. Hadfield, who approved its contents, and translated it into the native tongue for him, Mr. Spain thinking that this course would enhance its value in the native estimation. On the 27th Rauparaha replied that it was not he who was withholding the land, but Rangihaeata, who had negatived his voice in the councils of the tribe. But he still reiterated his former contention that he had never agreed to sell the Hutt.

The remonstrances on the part of Mr. Spain having proved fruitless, the Governor first pacified Heke[173] and Kawiti in the north, and then came south in February, 1846, with all the prestige of a successful "fighting Governor," to direct his operations against the truculent Taringa-kuri. In an interview, the Governor peremptorily demanded the evacuation of the valley. The chief pleaded for time to reap and remove the standing crops; but the Governor, strong in the knowledge that he had right on his side, and an ample force to sustain his demand, refused to consider any compromise, and gave the chief no alternative between immediate compliance and a declaration of war. The natives hesitated to test the question by an appeal to arms, and sullenly withdrew from the disputed territory, but not from the valley itself. They fell back upon a _pa_ up in the ranges, which the Governor afterwards described as "the strongest position he had seen in any part of the world." From this mountain fastness they made sudden and destructive raids upon the peaceful settlements in the vale below. Two hundred soldiers were left to render the settlers what measure of protection they could, by defensive tactics. Their instructions were not to attack the rebels in their stronghold, but, by vigilantly preventing them from securing supplies, to endeavour by starvation to render its continued occupation impossible. This policy had early the anticipated effect, and, acting on Te Rauparaha's assurance that the rebels had abandoned the _pa_, the Governor visited the spot, and has thus described what he saw:--

"The forest which had been held by the enemy was traversed by a single narrow path, almost impassable for armed Europeans. This path ascended a narrow ridge of rocks, having a precipice on each side covered with jungle. The ridge of rocks was so narrow that only one person could pass along it at a time, and it led to a hill with a broad summit, upon which a fortress had been constructed in such a manner as completely to command the path, which was rendered more difficult by an abattis placed across it. The rear of this position was quite as inaccessible as the front, and on each flank was a precipice; from the number of huts placed upon it, it must have been occupied by from three hundred to four hundred men."

No sooner was this position abandoned than another, almost equally impregnable, was taken up, and from this lair in the depth of the hills a band of marauders crept down through the forest early in April of 1846, stole past the troops, and late in the afternoon murdered a settler named Gillespie and his son, while they were engaged threshing wheat. There were soldiers in the vicinity at the time, but they were more intent upon getting grog from Burcham's public-house than upon protecting the settlers; and so stealthily was the attack carried out, that no one knew of the tragedy until Charles Gillespie, returning home in the dusk, found his father and brother in the throes of death. Te Rauparaha disclaimed, and probably with truth, all knowledge of or participation in this treacherous act, and even offered his assistance in bringing the murderers to justice. Rangihaeata was not so frank--or it may be that he was even more frank--for he instantly betook himself to the hills, and openly declared himself in sympathy with those who were thus contesting the question of the supremacy of the races. He refused to give the murderers up to the authorities, and busied himself with preparations for continuing the contest. Nor had the military long to wait for his onset. The most advanced British post in the valley was known as Boulcott's Farm, commanded by Lieutenant Page, who had a force of fifty men with him. Here, just before dawn, on May 16, 1846, the sentry, as he kept his lonely vigil, was startled by seeing some dark body creeping through the grass towards him. Without waiting to challenge, he fired, and in an instant the air was rent with the savage yells of a horde of warriors, who, under Mamaku, had left Rangihaeata's _pa_ at Pahautanui on the previous day, and, scaling the mountain range, had fallen upon the sleeping camp. The sentry and the picket were soon overpowered and killed, but not before the alarm had been given by Allen, the bugle-boy attached to the company. Roused from sleep by the commotion, he seized his bugle, and was in the act of sounding the call to arms, when a blow from a tomahawk struck the instrument from his hand. He still had time to recover it, and blow a blast which awakened his sleeping comrades, before he was laid low by a second stroke of the murderous axe. A galling fire was at once opened upon the outpost from the surrounding bush by the secreted natives, and Lieutenant Page and two men, who were with him in one of the out-buildings, hurried off to join their comrades who had been sleeping in the stockade. Intercepted by a swift rush on the part of a band of natives, they were only rescued from their perilous position by a determined effort on the part of the sergeant, who rallied some of the men and went to his commander's relief. Three men went down with wounds, and the remaining six fought the savages hand to hand, checking their onslaught until the wounded were got safely away and the remainder were able to retreat to the barn. Here the available force was assembled, and, leaving a sufficient garrison to defend the position, Lieutenant Page[174] and his men sallied out in extended order, firing as they went. Under this pressure the attack soon slackened, and, on the arrival of reinforcements, was turned into retreat, but not before six men had been killed and four wounded. During the following month there was another skirmish in the valley, which did not redound greatly to the credit of the British arms.

These repeated raids convinced the Governor that he must lance the lairs which were harbouring these human wolves, who represented all that was worst in the native race. He had been desirous of deferring field operations against these malcontents until the winter was over; but, realising that every successful attack only encouraged the enemy to further excesses, and diminished the enthusiasm of the loyal natives, he now determined upon an immediate and active campaign. The policy of road-making, which had been initiated some months before, was vigorously prosecuted, the friendly natives, as well as the soldiers, being employed in the work. The deep paths which were thus cut through the luxuriant beauty of the wilderness to Porirua and into the heart of the Hutt Valley robbed the forest of much of its terror, and were masterly counter-strokes to the secret tactics of Rangihaeata's followers. That chief's reply to the Governor's policy was to build a _pa_ at Pahautanui, so skilfully situated and so strongly fortified that he openly boasted that nothing but British artillery could drive him from it. But he did more than this. A _tapu_ placed on the Porirua track for a time disturbed and paralysed our native allies; but the inconvenience was only temporary, and the Governor succeeded in gradually breaking down the chief's authority.

An important military post was established at Porirua, garrisoned by three hundred men, and the services of the friendly natives were enlisted in the contemplated movement against the forces of Rangihaeata. His _pa_ was reconnoitred on the night of July 8th by Lieutenant the Hon. Charles Yelverton, of the Royal Artillery, and Mr. McKillop, then a midshipman on board H.M.S. _Calliope_, and the conclusion at which they arrived was that the artillery might easily be brought forward against the _pa_, and that in all other respects its investment was feasible, so soon as the Governor had a sufficient force at his disposal for the purpose. But there was one other factor to be taken into account. What would Te Rauparaha's attitude be if Rangihaeata were attacked? In his _pa_ at Taupo, on the shores of Porirua Harbour, he occupied a strong strategical position; and, though he had consistently professed his friendship for the Governor and his loyalty to the Queen, he was supremely distrusted, both by the authorities and by our native allies. As early as June of 1846, Major Last had reported to the Governor, from Wellington, that he was "a little suspicious of Te Rauparaha";[175] but the insinuation of disloyalty coming to the chief's ears, he challenged the Major's suspicions by offering to come to Wellington to prove the contrary. In view of the intensely hostile feeling prevailing amongst the European population against the chief, Major Last deemed the proposed visit to be ill-timed and impolitic, and declined to encourage Rauparaha in his intention. But the bold and fearless proposal must have shaken the officer's confidence in the grounds for his aspersion. The position of the chief at this time was a most unenviable one, for there is evidence that the Governor had begun to share the doubts of Major Last. It must not be forgotten, however, that the seeds of suspicion may have been assiduously sown in his mind by Rauparaha's tribal enemies, who would have exulted in embroiling him in a dispute with the local authorities. Even his friends who were with Rangihaeata in the field, either to further their own schemes or out of resentment at his passive attitude, sought to draw him into the vortex of the struggle. The _mana_ of the chief was still great, and Rangihaeata and Mamaku endeavoured to conjure with his name and claim his sanction for a letter to some tribal comrades containing an appeal for assistance.

The native carrying this letter was captured, and the intercepted document placed in the hands of the Governor, who immediately sailed for Porirua in H.M.S. _Driver_. On board the vessel he was visited by Te Rauparaha, and, during the interview, the incriminating message was produced and handed to the chief, who instantly denounced its contents as falsehoods and its writer as his enemy. "I watched him narrowly at the time," says Grey, "and his manner was such as to lead me to think that he really had no knowledge that such a letter had been written." Though thus frankly confessing that the letter was an injustice to the chief, the Governor, either from some innate mistrust of his visitor or a too ready disposition to listen to the sinister suggestions made against him, resolved that he would take no risks as to the future conduct of the man whom he believed he had to checkmate. He therefore determined that, before moving against Rangihaeata, he would forestall any possibility of an attack upon his lines of communication by capturing Te Rauparaha and holding him hostage for the good behaviour of his tribe. Without indicating by sign or word to the chief that the friendship between them was at an end, and without permitting him even to suspect the existence of any doubts as to his loyalty, the Governor took his farewell of Te Rauparaha, and on the afternoon of July 22 left Porirua. For the purpose of allaying suspicion, the _Driver_, in which he sailed, ostentatiously steamed to the north; but during the night she returned and stealthily anchored at the entrance of the harbour. Boats were lowered, and a company of a hundred and thirty men, under Major Last, Captain Stanley, of H.M.S. _Calliope_, and Lieutenant McKillop,[176] landed, and silently surrounded the stockade of the Taupo _pa_, in which the chief and his people were sleeping. The arrangements of the capturing party were so admirably made that no suspicion of what was moving around them was allowed to reach the natives until the stormers rushed into Rauparaha's _whare_, and, seizing the chief in his bed, carried him, in spite of his struggles and protestations, down to the boat side. Lieutenant McKillop, who personally accomplished the seizure of the chief, has left on record the following account of the exciting incident:--

"I was sent for soon after we arrived, and had an interview with the Governor, who informed me of Rauparaha's treachery, and his wish to have him and three others taken prisoners, if possible by surprise; and knowing that I was acquainted with their persons and locality, he asked me if I would undertake the capture of the 'Old Serpent' myself, allowing me to choose my own time and method of doing it, Major Durie, the Inspector of Police, being selected to take the others. Accordingly it was arranged that we were to leave the ship before daylight the next morning and land quietly on the rocks some little distance from the _pa_ in which our treacherous allies lived, taking a mixed force of bluejackets and soldiers, amounting to two hundred men, to support us in the case of the natives rising before we had effected our object. It was the Governor's particular desire that we should not lay our hands on these men until we had told them they were prisoners for treason, but on no account to let old Rauparaha escape. I took Mr. Dighton with me to act as interpreter, and four of our men unarmed, giving them instructions to seize upon the old chief as soon as he was made aware of the charge preferred against him, and to hurry him down to the boat before he could rouse his people, the principal object being to secure him. We landed at break of day, and while they were forming the troops on the beach, I with my small party ran on, as it was then light, fearing that conscious guilt might sharpen their ears and frustrate our plans. When we reached the _pa_ not a soul was stirring, but our heavy footsteps soon brought some of the sleepers to the doors of their huts, knowing we were not of the barefooted tribe. We could not wait to give any explanation, but pushed on to the hut which contained the object of our search, whose quick ears had detected strange footsteps. Never having liked me, he did not look at all easy on perceiving who the intruder was, although his wife showed no alarm and received me with her usual salutation. Upon informing him that he was my prisoner, he immediately threw himself (being in a sitting posture) back into the hut, and seized a tomahawk, with which he made a blow at his wife's head, thinking she had betrayed him. I warded the blow with my pistol and seized him by the throat, my four men immediately rushing in on him, and, securing him by his arms and legs, started off as fast as his violent struggles would allow of, which for a man of his age (upwards of seventy) were almost superhuman. He roared out lustily 'Ngati-Toa! Ngati-Toa!' endeavouring to bring his tribesmen to his rescue, and in a few seconds every man was on his legs and came rushing over to see what was the matter with their chief; but the troops and bluejackets coming up at the same time and surrounding the _pa_ prevented any attempt at a rescue, as he was already in the boat. His last effort to free himself was fastening with his teeth on to my coxswain's shoulder, who bore this piece of cannibalism unflinchingly. I sent Mr. Dighton off to the ship with him, there being not much chance of his escaping from the boat, particularly as he was informed that he would be shot if he attempted to escape. I then returned to the _pa_ to search for arms and ammunition, and also to see if the other prisoners had been secured. The interior of the _pa_ presented a woeful spectacle, the women all howling in chorus with the pigs and the children, the two latter being much knocked about in the search for arms."

In the mêlée which ensued upon the capture of Te Rauparaha, four other natives were also seized by Major Durie, and in the same arbitrary manner were carried off to the ship.[177] Two of these were the influential chiefs, Te Kanae (the _ariki_ of the Ngati-Toa tribe) and Hohepa, and two were men of inferior rank. By some writers who have been at no pains to conceal their hostility to Te Rauparaha, it is alleged that upon his arrival on board the _Driver_ he manifested the most craven spirit, until he was assured that it was not the Governor's intention to hang him from the yard-arm. But, whatever be the truth of this assertion, he at least retained sufficient dignity and self-respect as a chief to strenuously object to the additional humiliation of being imprisoned in company with men of no standing in the tribe; and, in deference to his injured pride and his vehement expostulations, Pohe and his companion were sent ashore and released from their brief captivity.

Naturally, the little settlement at Taupo was thrown into a state of intense excitement. The seizure of their chief was so sudden, so unexpected, that its reality could not for the moment be grasped; but when its full significance broke in upon the astonished tribe, the startling tidings was immediately despatched to Te Rangihaeata, who was still sitting in defiance in his stronghold at Pahautanui. He at once made for the coast, but was too late. The Governor had several hours' start of him, and he was compelled to make a wide detour to avoid the British post at Porirua. He arrived on the wooded hill-side above Te Rauparaha's _pa_ only in time to see the war-ship with her captives steaming down the coast.[178] Enraged and disappointed at what he must have regarded as the perfidy of the _pakeha_, and disheartened at his own impotency, he gloomily retired to his lair, there to sing[179] that beautiful lament, in which he mournfully acknowledges the increasing ascendancy of the stranger, and chides the waning loyalty of his own people.

"My brave canoe!
In lordly decoration lordliest far,
My proud canoe!
Amid the fleet that fleetest flew--
How wert thou shattered by the surge of war!
'Tis but the fragments of thy wreck,
O my renowned canoe,
That lie all crushed on yonder war-ship's deck!
Raha! my chief, my friend!
Thy lonely journey wend:
Stand with thy wrongs before our god of battle's face:
Bid him thy foes requite!--
Ah me! Te Raukawa's foul desertion and disgrace--
Ah me! the English ruler's might!

Raha! my chief of chiefs!
Ascend with all thy griefs
Up to their Lord of Peace--there stand before His face--
Let Him thy faith requite!--
Ah me! Te Toa's sad defection and disgrace--
Ah me! the English ruler's might!

One counsel from the first I gave,
'Break up thy forces, comrade brave,
Scatter them all about the land
In many a predatory band!'--
But Porirua's forest dense,
Ah, thou wouldst never stir from thence,
'There,' saidst thou, 'lies my best defence,'--
Now, now, of such design ill-starred,
How grievously thou reap'st the full reward!

Hence, vain lamenting--hence, away!
Hence, all the brood of sorrow born!
There will be time enough to mourn
In the long days of summer, ere the food
Is cropped, abundant for the work of blood.
Now I must marshal in compact array,
Great thoughts that crowding come of an avenging day!"[180]

The seizure of Te Rauparaha, at such a time and in such a manner, is one of the many debatable points in the history of this period, and, notwithstanding that many pages have been written upon the incident, the ethics of the act are apparently as far from final determination as ever. To the present writer its justification lies in its success. There is no doubt that, however high-handed and arbitrary, it was a tactical stroke which compelled waverers to pause, and paralysed those who were already in active hostility. On the other hand, it might just as easily have roused the whole Maori race into a frenzy of injured pride, and plunged the country into the vortex of a retaliatory war. Only one thing saved New Zealand from this calamity, and that was the tribal dissensions. Had the Maori been a united people, this unprovoked indignity put upon one of their greatest men must have excited their bitterest passions against the perpetrators of the deed; and one almost shudders to realise in what a hair-balance the fate of the little Colony trembled at this moment of her history. In criticising the Governor's policy, however, it must be borne in mind that he, with his knowledge of Maori conditions, may have counted upon these very intertribal hatreds to prevent anything in the nature of a general rising. This being assumed, his action is shorn of some of its rashness and impolicy, and he becomes entitled to credit for the success of his methods of overawing the turbulent spirit of the malcontent Maoris. On no other ground than that the end justifies the means can the seizure of Te Rauparaha be defended, nor, so far as the writer is aware, has any other defence ever been seriously attempted. The most that can be urged against the chief is that, unlike Te Kingi Rangitake, he did not join the allies and enter upon active hostilities against the so-called rebels. Of the fact that he secretly aided them there is little evidence and no proof. What evidence there may be is confined to the intercepted letters, admitted by the Governor himself to be forgeries, and to the unsupported statements of natives, some jealous of his power, and others aggrieved at his previous treatment of them. In this respect Te Rauparaha must have felt that, having sown the wind, he was now reaping the whirlwind; for those natives who had gone down under his hand in war, or had been outwitted by his diplomacy, were only too anxious to represent him in an unfavourable light to the Governor, and were never tired of insinuating, and even broadly asserting, that his spirit was behind the rebellion, even though his hand might be invisible.

In communicating with Mr. Gladstone on July 23, 1846, Grey described his military operations, which were designed to check a company of some two hundred rebels who, he had reason to believe, were marching from Whanganui to join Te Rangihaeata. He landed at Waikanae, Otaki, and Ohau, where he had a conference with the friendly chiefs. He proceeded to say: "The whole of the chiefs with whom I had interviews declared that these disturbances were to be entirely attributed to the intrigues of Te Rauparaha." How much his mind was influenced by the opinions of the chiefs may be judged by the fact that on the following day he launched his successful stroke, but how little he had weighed the value of their testimony may also be inferred from the circumstance that a year later he wrote a despatch to Mr. Gladstone's successor at the Colonial Office, in which he was forced to admit that after retaining Te Rauparaha in captivity for ten months his difficulties in deciding how to dispose of him were enhanced by the fact that all his "efforts made to secure the evidence of Pohi[181] failed, consequently it was not possible to prove Te Rauparaha's guilt in a court of law."

It is strange, if so many chiefs knew that the brain of Te Rauparaha was forging the balls which Rangihaeata was firing, that none were able to testify to the fact in an established court of law, and, travesty upon British justice though it may seem, it is nevertheless a fact that the man who had relied upon the Treaty of Waitangi to secure him his rights and liberties was detained a prisoner without formal charge and without the chance of a trial until it was thought possible to prove his guilt. How far Te Rauparaha's seizure and continued detention were a palliation to the wounded feelings of the European settlers it is difficult to pronounce, but it is not in the least unlikely that the Governor paid some regard to the popular effect of the step, even if he totally ignored its judicial aspect. In all probability Te Rauparaha was at this time the best-hated man in New Zealand. The memory of the massacre at the Wairau had not yet died out, and there were many who, misunderstanding that fatal event, could not look upon the chief whose name had been so tragically associated with it in any other light than as a social and moral outcast. To this not inconsiderable section of the community imprisonment was much too good for Te Rauparaha, but it was preferable to the negative attitude of Governor Fitzroy, and Grey, no doubt, counted upon standing well with these extremists by the initiation of a policy in which there was a touch of retribution, however barren it might be of justice.

With the European population, then, the kidnapping of the Ngati-Toa leader was, on the whole, a popular move, and with a number of the natives it was hailed as an act of retribution, long delayed, but nevertheless a judgment at last. Upon his own people the effect was different. They were stunned by the swiftness of the blow and confounded by its audacity. Here in a twinkling the very eye had been plucked out of their head, the heart torn from their body, and that, too, at a time when they had no quarrel with the Government, and by a man whom they had been wont to regard as their friend. Their first impulse was to fly to arms. To attack Wellington, to sweep the _pakeha_ into the sea, to avenge the wrongs of Te Rauparaha, was the cry. Te Rangihaeata called his own followers about him and sent out his appeals to the northern tribes: "Friends and children, come and revenge the injuries of Te Rauparaha, because Te Rauparaha is the eye of the faith of all men. Make haste hither in the days of December." But his design for the extermination of the Europeans was doomed to be frustrated. His own particular faithfuls were few in number, and the one great chief, Te Heuheu, to whom he might have looked for encouragement in such an emergency, was dead, buried beneath a huge landslide which had overwhelmed his village on the shores of Lake Taupo. Of others with whom he had been accustomed to co-operate in the days gone by, some were espousing the cause of the enemy, and some, having embraced the Christian faith, had grown weary of incessant war. Their reply, which was something in the nature of a rebuke, betokened that they had realised the futility of opposing the further progress of the _pakeha_. "How can you dry up the sea? That is why we say, finish fighting with the European." Such was their answer to his summons to arms, and Rangihaeata was left to fall back upon his small band of war-worn desperadoes to carry on a struggle which was hopeless from the first.[182]

Abandoned to his own resources, he applied himself to his duties of leader with the energy of despair. Realising that his position at Pahautanui was no longer tenable, as its swamps and shallows were no protection against the artillery which he knew was collected at Porirua, he withdrew his forces into the deeply wooded Horokiwi Valley. Through this forest defile, tangled and matted by an almost impenetrable undergrowth, he was pursued by a force of 1,000 men, composed of militia and native allies, under Major Last. Te Rangihaeata's generalship proved equal to the peculiar circumstances in which he found himself, and his genius for war won for him the warmest encomiums from British officers, who have generously expressed their admiration for the skill with which the chief conducted his retreat. Into the density of the wooded valley he led his pursuers, enticing them by a simulated resistance, but abandoning his camps as soon as they pressed too closely upon him. In one of these semi-fortified resting-places the British soldiers discovered the bugle which had been taken from the boy Allen when he was struck down at the fatal fight at Boulcott's Farm.

At length, retreat being no longer possible, the rebel chief turned at bay and fought his pursuers at a point near the head of the valley. His decision to throw down the gage of battle here was not the result of accident or impulse, but was due to deliberate calculation. The position was admirably chosen, and he held the enemy in check long enough to enable him to fortify it effectively. He threw a rough breastwork of tree-trunks across the narrow neck of a spur springing from a densely wooded hill, the approach to which was flanked by steep ravines, leaving so narrow a ridge that it could only be passed abreast by a very limited force of men. This wooden rampart, which presented so imposing a front to an enemy, was liberally perforated with loopholes, through which the defenders were able to concentrate their fire with deadly effect upon any approaching force. This arrangement, combined with the inaccessible nature of the ground, made its seizure by storm practically impossible. Nevertheless, an attack was determined upon, and on the morning of August 6, 1846, fire was opened upon the position, but with no other visible result than that Ensign Blackburn[183] and two privates were killed and nine others wounded. On the following day the assault, which had been so inauspiciously commenced, was suspended, for Major Last had now seen enough to convince him that some projectile more searching than bullets was necessary to dislodge the defenders from their stronghold. He accordingly sent to Porirua and procured two small mortars, which, after infinite labour spent in dragging them into position, were discovered to be absolutely worthless for purposes of attack, for the high forest trees made accurate gunnery impossible. Seeing his troops in a deplorable condition, even after this short bush campaign, and hopeless of driving Rangihaeata out, except at an enormous sacrifice of human life, Major Last decided to withdraw the regular troops and leave the friendly natives, under Puaha, to watch and wait for hunger to work its effects upon the stubborn garrison. A few days sufficed for this. On the 13th the allies were surprised by a hail of lead suddenly raining down upon their lines. No sooner had they sprung to arms than they saw that the enemy was afoot, the volley which they had fired being the signal for retreat. Immediately the real nature of the movement was ascertained, Puaha and his loyalists rushed forward over the fallen trees and broken ground, and reached the breastwork only in time to see the last of the defenders escape by the thickly veiled forest track, where they were swallowed up by the bush and lost to human view.

Hunger and cold had done their work, for there were no signs of food supplies inside the camp except some edible fern. Nor did the escape of the defenders to the open avail them much, for they were so harried by the followers of Puaha as they fled along the snow-covered mountain ridge that the opportunities for procuring food were few and uncertain. Some made their perilous way to the coast, in the secret hope of finding food and shelter amongst their friends in the _pas_, but these were for the most part found by the vigilant Wiremu Kingi, and either driven back into the mountain fastnesses or promptly secured as prisoners of war.[184] Deeming himself fortunate to have so far evaded death or capture, Te Rangihaeata retreated northwards with his famished adherents until he reached the lowlands of the Manawatu. There, beaten though still defiant, he retired to a _pa_ built in the midst of the swamps and marshes of Poroutawhao, where he laid down his arms and, sullenly drawing his mat about him, prepared to watch the irresistible march of the _pakeha_, though refusing to acknowledge defeat at his hands. "I am finished," he wrote to the Governor, "but do not suppose that you conquered me. No; it was these my own relatives and friends, Rangitake and others. It was by them I was overcome, and not by you, O Governor."[185]

A new cause for anxiety, in the outbreak of hostilities at Whanganui, now diverted Grey's attention momentarily from the fugitive chief, who improved the respite thus given by refraining from any act of violence. Although no formal peace was declared, Grey wisely decided not to precipitate further trouble by following him into the marshes of Poroutawhao. True, on the very day (April 18, 1847) that the news of the outbreak at Whanganui reached Wellington, the chief made a sensational descent upon Kapiti. In the grey of the early morning a whaler named Brown was awakened by a sound at the door of his hut, and, as he raised himself on his elbow, he saw the tall form of Rangihaeata enter the room with a tomahawk in his hand. The whaler not unnaturally thought he had come to take his life, and, in his subsequent narration of the incident, he indulged in some heroics, telling how he had challenged the chief to slay him on the spot. But Rangihaeata was not in search of a defenceless whaler's blood. He had come to demand some powder which was rightly his, and which he had left there for safe keeping. When he had secured his property, he went harmlessly away, after shaking hands in the most friendly manner with the frightened seaman. Some of his followers, however, were not quite so scrupulous; and, in searching the hut for the powder, they had appropriated a bundle of bank notes and some sovereigns, and secreted them about their persons until they returned to the _pa_. Here Rangihaeata discovered the theft, and immediately sent back the plunder to the Governor, accompanied by a characteristic note, in which he made it clear that, however much he might be in opposition to the Government, he had no desire to be esteemed a common thief.

With Rangihaeata beaten out of the field, we may now return to Te Rauparaha, whom we left in the hands of his captors. To ensure his greater security, he was, immediately upon the arrival of the _Driver_ at Wellington, transferred to H.M.S. _Calliope_,[186] where he was placed under the watchful eye of Captain Stanley, for whom, we are told, he afterwards acquired a high regard. On board this ship he was detained with some show of liberty for upwards of ten months, visiting the principal ports of northern and central New Zealand, as the duties of the station demanded the presence of the vessel. During all this period no attempt was made to bring him to trial, though no pains were spared by the Governor to secure the evidence which would ensure his conviction. In a despatch written to the Colonial Office on December 1, 1846, Grey endeavoured to explain his position and justify his halting attitude, but, in the trenchant words of one of his critics, his was a justification which itself required to be justified:--

"A number of designing Europeans, who are annoyed at my interfering with their illegal purchases of land, have thought it proper to agitate the question of the justice and propriety of my arresting Te Rauparaha. Some most improper publications have already appeared, and I regret to state that I find a great effect is being produced upon the minds of the native chiefs. The difficulty of my position is that I am not yet quite satisfied whether or not it will be expedient or necessary to bring the old man to trial. In fact, I am rather anxious to avoid doing so, and I fear that, were I to make public the various crimes for which he has been seized by the Government, and the proofs of his guilt upon which the Government justify his detention, a large portion of the European population would be so exasperated against him that it would be difficult for the Government to avoid bringing him to trial; and, if I were compelled to adopt this step from having made known the charges against him, I should probably be accused of having ungenerously prejudiced the public against him previously to his being brought to trial."

The only impression which the unbiassed student can derive from a perusal of this specious reasoning is that the Governor, in seeking to excuse himself for an unjustifiable action, has in reality delivered his own condemnation for a grave breach of trust. If the "various crimes" of which the chief was suspected were as defined as the Governor implies they were, and if "the proofs of his guilt upon which the Government justified his detention" were clear and unimpeachable, obviously then it was his bounden duty to the Colony and to Te Rauparaha that the chief should be brought to trial at the earliest possible moment. But the real fact was that the offences of Te Rauparaha were as imaginary as the proofs of his guilt were mythical, and he was kept captive on a ship of war while the Governor was diligently endeavouring to find Pohi, who was supposed to be possessed of important secrets, or was sedulously filling in the missing links in the chain of evidence which he hoped would establish the fact that certain messengers, who were known to have carried information to Rangihaeata, were indeed sent by Te Rauparaha.

A fruitless ten months was spent in these endeavours to bring home guilt to Te Rauparaha, and at the end of that time Grey was forced to admit that he was still unable to prove the chief guilty in a court of law. He therefore began to consider how far he was justified in longer detaining him, while still refusing to do him the justice of giving him a clear acquittal. He temporised with other reasons, from which it is clear that he regarded the step as one of expediency rather than of right. "The detention of the prisoners," he wrote to Earl Grey, "has caused expense and inconvenience to the Government"; and therefore, to relieve his administration of something which it had forced upon itself, he was magnanimous enough to loose the chains from off the chief. But the Governor was also influenced by other considerations. He believed that the capture and long captivity of Te Rauparaha had completely destroyed his _mana_, so that he was now incapable of originating any new mischief, even if he were so inclined. But we may also do him the justice of believing that he was genuinely anxious to placate the Ngati-Toa people, who had repeatedly petitioned him for their leader's release, and to allay an ugly suspicion, which had gained credence amongst them, that Te Rauparaha had been murdered, and that his so-called detention was merely a subterfuge to cover a desperate crime.

"Repeated applications," wrote the Governor, "have been made by Te Rauparaha's tribe for his release, and this step seems to be quite justified by his ten months of good conduct. Waka Nene and Te Wherowhero also petitioned for his release, and went guarantee for his good behaviour. Upon the whole, with the larger force that will be placed at my disposal, and after the convincing proofs which the natives have so frequently afforded of their regarding their interests as identical with those of the Government, I entertain no apprehension of Te Rauparaha being able to effect further mischief, even if he were disposed to do so. I therefore determined to order his release, merely requiring Te Wherowhero and Waka Nene to pledge their words for his future good conduct, and although I exacted no conditions either from themselves or from the prisoners, I recommended them to require both Te Rauparaha and Hohepa to reside on the northern portions of the island until I felt justified in stating that I had no objection to them permitting Te Rauparaha to return to his own country."