Chapter XIX: Preface (1)

This little tale is an endeavour to call back some shadows from the past: a picture of things which have left no record but this imperfect sketch. The old settlers of New Zealand--my fellow pioneers--will, I hope, recognize the likeness. To those who have more recently sought these shores, I hope it may be interesting. To all it is respectfully presented.

HISTORY OF THE WAR IN THE NORTH OF NEW ZEALAND AGAINST THE CHIEF HEKE.

Many years ago, Hongi Ika, the great warrior chief of New Zealand, was dying.[6] His relations, friends, and tribe were collected around him, and he then spoke to them in these words: "Children and friends, pay attention to my last words. After I am gone, be kind to the missionaries, be kind also to the other Europeans; welcome them to the shore, trade with them, protect them, and live with them as one people; but if ever there should land on this shore a people who wear red garments, who do no work, who neither buy nor sell, and who always have arms in their hands, then be aware that these are a people called soldiers, a dangerous people, whose only occupation is war. When you see them, make war against them. Then, O my children, be brave! then, O friends, be strong! Be brave that you may not be enslaved, and that your country may not become the possession of strangers." And having said these words, he died.

[Footnote 6: Hongi was shot through the body at Mangamuka, in Hokianga, of which wound he died, after lingering some years. The speech here given was not spoken on the _day_ of his death, but some time before, when he saw he could not recover.]

After this, years passed away, and the pakeha increased in numbers, and were spread over the whole country, and traded with the Maori, and lived with them, and the Maori were pleased with them, for they got from them plenty of gunpowder, and tomahawks, and blankets, and all the wealth of the pakeha became theirs, and there was no fighting between them, but all lived together as friends.

More years passed away, and then came a chief of the pakeha who we heard was called a Governor. We were very glad of his arrival, because we heard he was a great chief, and we thought, he being a great chief, would have more blankets and tobacco and muskets than any of the other pakeha people, and that he would often give us plenty of these things for nothing. The reason we thought so was because all the other pakeha often made us presents of things of great value, besides what we got from them by trading. Who would not have thought as we did?

The next thing we heard was, that the Governor was travelling all over the country with a large piece of paper, asking all the chiefs to write their names or make marks on it. We heard, also, that the Ngapuhi chiefs, who had made marks or written on that paper, had been given tobacco, and flour, and sugar, and many other things, for having done so.

We all tried to find out the reason why the Governor was so anxious to get us to make these marks. Some of us thought the Governor wanted to bewitch all the chiefs,[7] but our pakeha friends laughed at this, and told us that the people of Europe did not know how to bewitch people. Some told us one thing, some another. Some said the Governor only wanted our consent to remain, to be a chief over the pakeha people; others said he wanted to be chief over both pakeha and Maori. We did not know what to think, but were all anxious he might come to us soon; for we were afraid that all his blankets, and tobacco, and other things would be gone before he came to our part of the country, and that he would have nothing left to pay us for making our marks on his paper.

[Footnote 7: The Governor made some presents of no great value to some of the natives who signed the Treaty of Waitangi, and a report in consequence got about, as is related here, that he was paying a high price for signatures. Many suppositions and guesses were made by the ignorant natives of the part of the country alluded to in the story, as to what could be the reason he was so desirous to get these names written on his paper, and many suggested that he had some sinister design, probably that of _bewitching_ them.]

Well, it was not long before the Governor came, and with him came other pakeha chiefs, and also people who could speak Maori; so we all gathered together, chiefs and slaves, women and children, and went to meet him; and when we met the Governor, the speaker of Maori told us that if we put our names, or even made any sort of a mark, on that paper, the Governor would then protect us, and prevent us from being robbed of our cultivated land, and our timber land, and everything else which belonged to us. Some of the people were very much alarmed when they heard this, for they thought that perhaps a great war expedition was coming against us from some distant country, to destroy us all; others said he was only trying to frighten us. The speaker of Maori then went on to tell us certain things, but the meaning of what he said was so closely concealed we never have found it out.[8] One thing we understood well, however; for he told us plainly that if we wrote on the Governor's paper, one of the consequences would be that great numbers of pakeha would come to this country to trade with us, that we should have abundance of valuable goods, and that before long there would be great towns, as large as Kororareka, in every harbour in the whole island. We were very glad to hear this; for we never could up to this time get half muskets or gunpowder enough, or blankets, or tobacco, or axes, or anything. We also believed what the speaker of Maori told us, because we saw that our old pakeha friends who came with us to see the Governor believed it.

[Footnote 8: When a native says anything for which he thinks he may at some future time be called to account, he so wraps his ideas up in figurative and ambiguous terms as to leave him perfectly free, should he think fit, to give a directly contrary meaning to that which is most obvious at the time he speaks. Some natives are very clever at this, but it often happens that a fellow makes such a bungle of the business as to leave no meaning at all of any sort. This is what the narrator of the story means when he says, "the meaning of what the speaker of Maori said was closely concealed," which is a polite Maori way of saying that he was talking nonsense.]

After the speaker of Maori had ceased, then Te Tao Nui and some other chiefs came forward and wrote on the Governor's paper; and Te Tao Nui went up to the Governor, and took the Governor's hand in his and licked it! We did not much like this; we all thought it so undignified. We were very much surprised that a chief such as Te Tao Nui should do so; but Te Tao Nui is a man who knows a great deal about the customs of the pakeha; he has been to Port Jackson in a ship, and he, seeing our surprise, told us that when the great pakeha chiefs go to see the King or Queen of England they do the same, so we saw then that it was a straight proceeding. But after Te Tao Nui and other chiefs had made marks and written on the Governor's paper, the Governor did not give them anything. We did not like this, so some other chiefs went forward, and said to the Governor, "Pay us first, and we will write afterwards." A chief from Omanaia said, "Put money in my left hand, and I will write my name with my right," and so he held out his hand to the Governor for the money; but the Governor shook his head and seemed displeased, and said he would not pay them for writing on the paper.

Now, when all the people saw this they were very much vexed, and began to say one to another, "It is wasting our labour coming here to see this Governor," and the chiefs began to get up and make speeches. One said, "Come here, Governor; go back to England;" and another said, "I am Governor in my own country, there shall be no other;" and Paapahia said, "Remain here and be Governor of this island, and I will go to England and be King of England, and if the people of England accept me for their King it will be quite just; otherwise you do not remain here." Then many other chiefs began to speak, and there was a great noise and confusion, and the people began to go away, and the paper was lying there, but there was no one to write on it. The Governor looked vexed, and his face was very red. At this time some pakehas went amongst the crowd, and said to them, "You are foolish; the Governor intends to pay you when all the writing is done, but it is not proper that he should promise to do so; it would be said you only wrote your names for pay; this, according to our ideas, would be a very wrong thing." When we heard this we all began to write as fast as we could, for we were all very hungry with listening and talking so long, and we wanted to go to get something to eat, and we were also in a hurry to see what the Governor was going to give us; and all the slaves wanted to write their names, so that the Governor might think they were chiefs, and pay them; but the chiefs would not let them, for they wanted all the payment for themselves. I and all my family made our marks, and we then went to get something to eat; but we found our food not half done, for the women and slaves who should have looked after the cooking were all mad about the Governor, so when I saw that the food was not sufficiently done, I was aware that something bad would come of this business.[9]

[Footnote 9: This is a common native superstition. The natives believe in omens of a thousand different kinds, and amongst others think it a very bad omen if, on an occasion when any business of importance is on hand, the food happens to be served underdone; or before a battle it is a particularly bad omen.]

Next morning the things came with which the Governor intended to pay us for writing our names, but there was not much tobacco, and only few blankets;[10] and when they were divided some of the chiefs had nothing, others got only a few figs of tobacco, some one blanket, others two. I got for myself and all my sons, and my two brothers, and my three wives, only two blankets. I thought it was too little, and was going to return them, but my brother persuaded me to keep them; so we got into our canoe to go home, and on the way home we began to say, "Who shall have the blankets?" And so we began to quarrel about them. One of my brothers then said, "Let us cut them in pieces, and give every one a piece." I saw there was going to be a dispute about them, and said, "Let us send them back." So we went ashore at the house of a pakeha, and got a pen and some paper, and my son, who could write, wrote a letter for us all to the Governor, telling him to take back the blankets, and to cut our names out of the paper, and then my two brothers and my sons went back and found the Governor in a boat about to go away. He would not take back the blankets, but he took the letter. I do not know to this day whether he took our names out of the paper. It is, however, no matter; what is there in a few black marks? Who cares anything about them?

[Footnote 10: These presents were given to the natives, and, in their matter-of-fact manner, understood to be payment for signing the treaty.]

Well, after this, the Governor died; he was bewitched, as I have heard, by a _tohunga_ at the South, where he had gone to get names to his paper; for this was his chief delight, to get plenty of names and marks on his paper. He may not have been bewitched, as I have heard, but he certainly died, and the paper with all the names was either buried with him, or else his relations may have kept it to lament over, and as a remembrance of him. I don't know. You, who are a pakeha, know best what became of it; but if it is gone to England, it will not be right to let it be kept in any place where food is cooked, or where there are pots or kettles, because there are so many chiefs' names in it; it is a very sacred piece of paper; it is very good if it has been buried with the Governor.[11]

[Footnote 11: The Treaty of Waitangi.]

After the first Governor came the second Governor, but the towns and numerous pakeha traders we expected did not come. We heard of a town at Waitamata having been built,[12] and others farther South; but in our part of the country there was no new towns, and the pakeha did not increase in numbers, but, on the contrary, began to go away to the town at Waitamata, to be near their chief the Governor, who lived there, and many of us had no one left to sell anything to as formerly. Tobacco began to be scarce and dear; the ships began to leave off coming to Tokerau, Hokianga, and Mangonui. We inquired the reason of this, but the few pakeha traders left amongst us told us different stories. Some said that the reason tobacco was scarce and dear was, because the Governor would not let it be brought on shore until he was paid a large price for it, besides what was paid to the people of the ship, who were the right owners of it. This we at first did not believe, because you all said you were not slaves, not one of you, but all free men. Others said that the reason ships did not come as frequently as formerly, was because the Governor made them pay for coming to anchor in the ports. Some said all the evil was by reason of the flagstaff which the Governor had caused to be erected at Maiki, above Kororareka, as a _rahui_, and that as long as it remained there things would be no better; others again told us the flagstaff was put there to show the ships the way into the harbour; others, that it was intended to keep them out; and others said that it was put up as a sign that this island had been taken by the Queen of England, and that the nobility and independence of the Maori was no more. But this one thing at least was true, we had less tobacco and fewer blankets and other European goods than formerly, and we saw that the first Governor had not spoken the truth, for he told us we should have a great deal more. The hearts of the Maori were sad, and our old pakeha friends looked melancholy, because so few ships came to bring them goods to trade with. At last we began to think the flagstaff must have something to do with it, and so Heke went and cut it down.

[Footnote 12: Auckland, the capital of New Zealand.]

When the flagstaff was cut down, there was a great deal of talk about it, and we expected there would be fighting; but it all ended quietly. The Governor, however, left off taking money from the people,[13] and tobacco became cheap, and ships began to come as before, and all our old pakeha friends were glad, because they had plenty of goods to sell us, and so we all thought Heke was a man of great understanding. But the Governor put up the flagstaff again, and when Heke heard this he came and cut it down again; so this was twice that he cut it down.

[Footnote 13: After the flagstaff had been cut down, the customs-duties were repealed, and, in consequence, tobacco and other articles on which duties had been levied became cheaper. This fully convinced the natives that there was some mysterious connection between the dearness of different goods and the existence of the flagstaff, which they now thought was the source of all evils, and which will account for their determined persistence in cutting it down so often, at all risks.]

Now, when the Governor heard that Heke had cut down the flagstaff a second time, he became very angry, because he thought he could never get any more money from the people, or the ships,[14] so he sent to England, and to Port Jackson, and everywhere, for soldiers to come to guard the flagstaff, and to fight with Heke.

[Footnote 14: This was really the belief of the natives at the time; I have heard it said not once but fifty times. To tell the contrary was perfectly useless; the flagstaff, and nothing but the flagstaff, was "the cause of all the evil"--and there were not wanting ill-disposed Europeans who encouraged this belief, as I think with the purpose to bring on a war.]

It was not long before the soldiers came, and the flagstaff was put up again; it was made larger and stronger than before, and pieces of iron were fastened to it, to prevent its being cut down easily, and a house was built under it for the soldiers, and the Governor told those soldiers to remain there always to guard that flagstaff. There were other soldiers at Kororareka and other places. I don't know how many, but a great many. This was the first time that Heke began to think of the last words of Hongi Ika, his relative, when he died at Mawhe. Heke began to think much on these words, for Heke was now a chief amongst the Ngapuhi, and he thought to stand in the place of Hongi, as, indeed, he had a right to do.

Now, these soldiers had red garments; they did not work, or buy and sell, like the other pakeha people; they practised every day with their weapons, and some of them were constantly watching as if they expected to be attacked every moment. They were a very suspicious people, and they had stiff, hard things round their necks to keep their heads up, lest they should forget, and look too much downwards, and not keep their eyes continually rolling about in search of an enemy.

Great, indeed, was the fear of the Maori when they heard of these soldiers, for all the pakeha agreed in saying that they would attack any one their chief ordered them to attack, no matter whether there was any just cause or not; that they would fight furiously till the last man was killed, and that nothing could make them run away. Fear came like a cold fog on all the Ngapuhi, and no chief but Heke had any courage left. But Heke called together his people, and spoke to them saying, "I will fight these soldiers, I will cut down the flagstaff, I will fulfil the last words of Hongi Ika. Be not afraid of these soldiers, 'all men are _men_.'[15] The soldiers are not gods; lead will kill them; and if we are beaten at last, we shall be beaten by a brave and noble people, and need not be ashamed."

[Footnote 15: This is a native saying or proverb, meaning that in fact one man is as good as another, or that the best or bravest man is _but_ a man, and therefore not to be too much feared. The speech is a literal verbatim translation.]

So Heke sent runners to all the divisions of the Ngapuhi, saying, "Come, stand at my back; the red garment is on the shore. Let us fight for our country. Remember the last words of Hongi Ika--_Kei hea koutou kia toa_."

But the chiefs of the Ngapuhi _hapu_ said amongst themselves, "How long will the fire of the Maori burn before it is extinguished?"

So the Ngapuhi chiefs would not join Heke for fear of the soldiers, but said, "We will wait till a battle has been fought, and if he is successful, then we will join him." So Heke, therefore, went with his own family and people, and those of his elder relation Kawiti, and the Kapotae, and some others, altogether about 400 men. He went to fight with the soldiers at Kororareka, and to cut down his old enemy the flagstaff.

Heke and Kawiti having arrived at Tokerau, and having fixed upon the day of attack, they agreed that Kawiti should attack the town of Kororareka, to draw off the attention of the soldiers who guarded the flagstaff on the hill of Maiki, so that Heke should have an opportunity to cut it down, for Heke had said that he would cut down the flagstaff, and he was resolved to make his word true. When they had formed this plan, and night was come, the priests of the war party threw darts to divine the event.[16] They threw one for Heke, and one for the soldiers, and one for the flagstaff: and the dart for Heke went straight, and fair, and fortunate; but the dart for the soldiers turned to one side, and fell with the wrong side up; so did that for the flagstaff. When this was told the people they were very glad, and had no longer any fear. Then Kawiti, who is himself a _tohunga_, threw a _rakau_ for his own path--he threw one for himself and people, and one for the soldiers, and one for the town. The dart for Kawiti went straight and fair, but it turned wrong side up, which is the omen of death; and so also did the dart for the soldiers go fair and straight, but also turned wrong side up. And when Kawiti saw this, he said, "It is good. Here have I two darts ominous of success, and bravery, and death--our enemy will prove very strong and brave, they will suffer much from us, and so will we from them. I am not displeased, for this is war and not play." Then Heke and Kawiti stood up in the night, and spoke long and with great spirit to their men, to give them courage; and when they had done speaking, Kawiti remained where he was near the sea, not far from the town; but Heke went inland, and before morning he lay with his men in a hollow close to the flagstaff.

[Footnote 16: Before a war or any other important matter, the natives used to have recourse to divination, by means of little miniature darts made of rushes or reeds, or often of the leaf of the cooper's flag (raupo). This was very much believed in, but of course the chiefs and priests or _tohunga_ (such of them as did not deceive _themselves_) could make the result favourable or otherwise as they liked. There is an allusion to a custom of this kind (divining by darts) in the Bible.]

Heke lay on the ground with his war party--close at hand were the sleeping soldiers. Amongst those soldiers there was not one _tohunga_, not a man at all experienced in omens, or they must have had some warning that great danger and defeat was near; but there they lay sleeping between the open jaws of war, and knew of no danger. This is the only foolishness I see about the pakeha--they are quite ignorant and inexperienced in omens, and, indeed, care nothing at all about them.[17]

[Footnote 17: It astonished the natives greatly that the soldiers paid no attention to omens, and also to see them every five minutes doing something or another monstrously "unlucky."]

In the morning, before it was light, Kawiti rushed upon Kororareka. The young men did not look for the light of this world; their only thought was who should kill the first man, and elevate his name. But the soldiers met them in the path, and the fight began. Pumuka then gained a name; he killed the first man of the battle, but had not long to rejoice, for he himself fell a _mataika_ for the pakeha.[18] Then the Maori charged to revenge Pumuka; the soldiers met them; the sailors charged sword in hand; a keen breeze of war was blowing then on Kororareka! The best men of both sides were in front; the sword met the tomahawk, and many fell; but of all the braves (_toa_) there, the chief of the sailors was the bravest; no man could stand up before his sword, and had he not been struck by a shot, the Maori would have been defeated--four men like him would have killed Kawiti and all his war party. This is what I have been told by Kawiti's people who were in the fight. I did not see it myself, but was at every other fight in the war.

[Footnote 18: The first man killed in a battle is called the _mataika_. To kill the _mataika_ is thought a great distinction, and young men will risk themselves to the utmost to obtain it. Many quarrels arise sometimes after a fight, in consequence of different individuals claiming the honour of having killed the first man. The writer knows a man who in different battles has killed eleven _mataika_.]

When Kawiti attacked Kororareka, the soldiers at the flagstaff on the top of Maiki heard the firing, and left the flagstaff, and went straggling about the hill-side, trying to see what was going on below. They did not think of Heke or his words when he said he would cut down the flagstaff, neither did they remember the orders of the Governor. They were very foolish; for while they were trying to see the fight between Kawiti and the soldiers and sailors, and thinking, perhaps, that the Maori did not know how to conduct an ambush, Heke started from the ground, and before they could turn round the flagstaff and their fort was taken. Some of them were killed, others ran away, and then the axes went to work, and the flagstaff was cut down. So this was the third time it fell, and there it lies now.

During this time, the fighting was still going on at Kororareka; but at last the Maori drew back, and the pakeha remained in the town. The Maori were not beaten, neither were the soldiers. Pumuka had been killed, and many others of Kawiti's people were killed and wounded; several, also, of the pakeha had been killed, and their great _toa_, the chief of the sailors, was almost dead. So the words of Kawiti proved true: both he and his enemy had done bravely, and had equal success, and both had suffered much.

In the afternoon the Maori began to perceive that the pakeha were leaving the town, and going on board the ships, so they returned to the town and began to plunder, and the people of the town plundered also, so both parties quietly plundered the town of Kororareka, and did not quarrel with one another. At last, all the town people and soldiers went on board the ships, and then the ship of war fired at the Maori people who were plundering in the town. The noise of the firing of the ship guns was very great, and some of Kawiti's people were near being hit by the lumps of iron. This was not right, for the fight was over, and the people were only quietly plundering the town which had been left for them, and which they had given fair payment for; but, I suppose, the sailors thought their chief was dying, and fired a volley (_waipu_) for his sake. So the sailors may have an argument in their favour; but the Maori did not at the time think of this, so in revenge they burnt Kororareka, and there was nothing left but ashes; and this was the beginning of the war.

Well, you pakeha are a noble-minded people; it was very generous of you to give up Kororareka to be plundered and burnt for _utu_ for the Maori. If you had been beaten you could not have helped it; but as you were not beaten, I say it was very noble of you to give up the town. You are always giving us something, so you gave Kawiti and Heke a town full of blankets, and tobacco, and money, and all sorts of property, and rum! It was _very_ good of you. I wish I had been there.

When Kororareka was burnt, and all the Europeans had sailed to the town at Waitamata, which we now began to hear was called Auckland, then Heke went to stop at Ahuahu, and the news of the battle was heard all over the country, and then many men came to join Heke, but no whole _hapu_ came, for most of the Ngapuhi chiefs said, "Now tens of thousands of soldiers will come to fight with Heke, and he will be utterly destroyed." But when all Heke's people were together they were about 700 men.

Now, when Thomas Walker Nene heard that the war had actually begun, and that Kororareka had fallen, he called together his family and all his friends, and said he would fight against Heke, and seek revenge for his friends the pakeha people. Walker had been always a friend and protector to the Europeans; and also Hongi Ika, Heke's relation, had killed in former times Te Tihi, at Hokianga, and swallowed his eyes, and Te Tihi was a _matua_ (elder relation) to Walker.

And Te Tao Nui came to join Walker, and brought with him all his family and relations, many fighting men; only one man of his family did not come--that man went to help Heke. Te Tao Nui had always, like Walker, been a good friend to the Europeans, and he was also an ancient enemy of Hongi Ika.

And the tribe of Ngati Pou came to help Walker. Formerly they had been a great tribe, but Hongi Ika had driven them from their country and slain most of their warriors; but they in return wounded Hongi, and he died of that wound some years afterwards. They came to help Walker, in search of revenge against Hongi Ika, for Heke and Hongi are the same. This tribe of Ngati Pou brought forty men to help Walker, which was all left alive by Hongi, but they fought well, for their hatred to Hongi was great; they fought through the whole war, and never were absent from any fight. The first man killed in the war between Walker and Heke was killed by a Ngati Pou, and the first man who fell on our side was a Ngati Pou, and the last man who fell in the war was also a Ngati Pou; their chief, Hakaraia, was wounded, and several others of the forty men were killed.

And all the young men of the Hikutu came to help Walker; they came to practise war, and elevate their names; but their handsome and brave young chief, Hauraki, fell at Waikare, for such is the appearance of war; and many young men came from different tribes (_hapu_) to join Walker, and to perfect themselves in the practice of war.

And I, your friend, went also with my two younger brothers, my four sons, and my daughter's husband, and nine cousins (_teina keke_), and three slaves--twenty men of us, all _tino tangata_, who had seen war.[19] I went because when the ancestors of Heke fought against mine, the ancestors of Walker came to help my forefathers, because they were related to each other; so I and Walker are relations; but I don't know exactly what the relationship is, for eleven generations have passed since that ancient war; but Walker and I are aware that we are related, and always come to each other's help in war.

[Footnote 19: This is a very good example of the manner in which a native chief raises men for a war party; they are all his _relations_ with their different connections, and it is this which causes the natives to be so careful to remember all who are, however remotely, related to them. In a word, to be "a man of many cousins" is to be a great chief.]

When Walker had got all his men together, they were in number about 500, and he went with them to Okaihau and built a pa, and Heke was at Te Ahuahu with his men. Te Ahuahu is not far from Okaihau, and there was fighting between them every day. Several of Walker's relations were killed, and the brother of Te Tao Nui was also killed, and his son badly wounded; but in every fight Heke lost most men, and had the worst of the battle. So Heke sent a messenger to Walker, saying, "If you go on this way, when the soldiers return there will be no one to fight them. Who will there be to fight with you, and who to fight the red garment?" But Walker said, in answer, "I will fight on till I arrive at the end."

Then the messenger answered Walker, saying, "Behold the soothsayers foretell your death."

Then arose quickly Karere Horo, our priest, who answered in a loud voice, saying, "Your soothsayers speak falsely. What sin has Walker committed that he should die in this war? I myself who now address you shall die, and many others, but Walker shall live."

Then Heke's messenger, having saluted the people, took his gun and departed.

Up to this time, no news had been heard from the Governor at Auckland, and a pakeha came to the camp at Okaihau, and said to Walker's people, "This is a bad thing you are doing, coming here to fight with Heke. The Governor when he hears of it will be angry, and so will the Queen. You are only wasting your powder, and getting killed for nothing. The Governor will not give you any more gunpowder, and you will get no pay. Moreover, you are not fighting at all for the pakeha, or the Queen, you are fighting to revenge Te Tihi." Then another pakeha who was in the camp, an old friend of Walker, arose and spoke to the people, and said, "Pay no attention to what has been said by this man. Both the Governor and the Queen will be well pleased to hear of your opposing Heke, and so will all the pakeha people. You will be ever after this looked on as true friends, and the Governor will give you plenty of gunpowder to replace what you have expended. Neither is this a war for Te Tihi, but for Kororareka; but if you remember Te Tihi also, how can you help it?" When we heard this speech we were encouraged, for we had begun to doubt whether we were doing right when we heard the speech of the first pakeha.

On this same night the moon was eaten into by a star (eclipsed), and the light of the moon was quite obscured, and we all thought this an omen of great disaster to one party or the other in the battle to take place next morning. The fight, however, in the morning was no great matter; of Heke's people there were three killed and twenty wounded; and eleven of our men were wounded, but none killed.

Walker's old pakeha friends gave him gunpowder, and rifles, and other things, to enable him to fight Heke; and some of them came and stayed at the camp, and fought amongst his men, to show him that he was right in what he was doing, for Walker had not yet had any word from the Governor, and was only fighting on his own thought.

Shortly after this, a letter came from the Governor, and with it the Governor sent gunpowder, and lead, and blankets, and flour, and sugar, and tobacco; so we saw then clearly that we were doing right. But there was only one letter for both Walker and Te Tao Nui; so Te Tao Nui was angry at this, for he thought there should have been a letter entirely for himself, and he said he would leave the camp with all his men. He had more men, at that time, than Walker; but, however, he remained, and helped Walker to the last. After this, news came frequently from Auckland, and before long we heard that the soldiers were coming.

When Heke's people heard that the soldiers were coming, most of them left him, and there remained but 200 men. Then Heke left Te Ahuahu, and came and built a pa not far from Taumata Tutu, on the clear ground by the lake; for he said he would fight the soldiers on the spot where the last words of Hongi Ika had been spoken. The name of this pa of Heke's was Te Kahika.

Now, when this new fort of Heke's was finished, the spirit of the Ngakahi entered into the _atua wera_, who is the greatest _tohunga_ in all the country of the Ngapuhi. So the Ngakahi spoke in the night to Heke and his people, by the mouth of the _atua wera_, "Be brave, and strong, and patient. Fear not the soldiers, they will not be able to take this fort--neither be you afraid of all those different kinds of big guns you have heard so much talk of. I will turn aside the shot, and they shall do you no harm; but this pa and its defenders must be made sacred (_tapu_). You must particularly observe all the sacred rites and customs of your ancestors; if you neglect this in the smallest particular, evil will befall you, and I also shall desert you. You who pray to the God of the missionaries, continue to do so, and in your praying see you make no mistakes. Fight and pray. Touch not the spoils of the slain, abstain from human flesh, lest the European God should be angry, and be careful not to offend the Maori gods. It is good to have more than one God to trust to. This war party must be strictly sacred. Be brave, be strong, be patient."[20]

[Footnote 20: This is word for word a literal translation of the speech of the _atua wera_ to Heke's men. He was, however, supposed only to speak the words of the _Ngakahi_ by whom he was at the moment inspired.]

So Heke waited there at his fort at Mawhe, near Taumata Tutu, for the coming of the soldiers; and before long they arrived at Walker's camp at Okaihau, which was but a short distance from where Heke was. When these soldiers arrived they were very much fatigued, and quite without provisions, and not at all fit to go to fight. They had been two nights on the road, one of which nights they lay out in the rain, and they had but a small quantity of ammunition. They had come by a long, bad road, up and down hill, though there was a good road open to them; and they were quite worn out, and not fit to fight at all. What could be the reason that the pakeha who knew the country did not tell the soldiers to come up the Keri Keri in boats, and then along the cart road to the turn-off to Okaihau? If they had done this, they could have brought big guns in the boats, and provisions, and put them in carts at the Keri Keri, and come along the cart road till they were not far from Walker's camp. If they had done this, the big guns would have knocked down the pa, for it was a very weak one, and it would have been taken, and the war would have ended; for it was because this very weak pa was not taken that the Maori kept on fighting, and caused so many men afterwards to be killed on both sides. Heke certainly had many friends amongst the Europeans, as why should he not?

But the soldiers had with them a light gun, called a rocket, and this gun had a great name: it was said that it would go into the pa, and twist and turn about in pursuit of the people until it had killed them every one. When we heard this we were sorry for Heke and his people, and were in great fear for ourselves lest it should turn round upon us also.

When the soldiers had rested one night at Okaihau, they prepared to attack Heke's pa; but early in the morning, when they were getting something to eat, we observed many of them eating standing up; this gave us a good deal of uneasiness, for it has an unlucky look to see warriors before going to battle eating their food standing. They should sit down and eat quietly, as if nothing was going to happen out of common; but, as I have said before, the soldiers are very inexperienced in these matters. When they had done eating, they formed to march to attack Heke. What a fine-looking people these soldiers are! Fine, tall, handsome people; they all look like chiefs; and their advance is like the advance of a flight of curlew in the air, so orderly and straight. And along with the soldiers came the sailors; they are of a different family, and not at all related to the soldiers,[21] but they are a brave people, and they came to seek revenge for the relations they had lost in the fight at Kororareka. They had different clothes from the soldiers, and short guns, and long heavy swords; they were a people who talked and laughed more than the soldiers, and they flourished their guns about as they advanced, and ate tobacco.

[Footnote 21: That the sailors were quite a different _hapu_, though belonging to the _iwi_ of England, and in no way "related" to the soldiers, I have heard often stated by the natives, as well as by the narrator of this story. Neither will we wonder at their having jumped at this conclusion, after having compared "Jack," let loose for a run on shore, with the orderly soldiers. I will here take occasion to state that I shall not hold myself accountable for the many mistakes and misapprehensions of my old friend the Ngapuhi chief, when he speaks of us, our manners, customs, and motives of action; when he merely recounts the events and incidents of the war, he is to be fully depended on, being both correct and minutely particular in his relation, after the native manner of telling a story, to omit _nothing_. I have had, indeed, to leave out a whole volume of minute particulars, such as this for instance: where a _pakeha_ would simply say, "we started in the morning after breakfast," &c., the native would say, "in the morning the ovens were heated, and the food was put in and covered up; when it was cooked it was taken out, and we eat it, and finished eating, then we got up and started," &c. In the course of the narration I have translated, I have had to listen to the above _formula_ about fifty times; the lighting of a pipe and the smoking it, or the seeing a wild pig (describing size and colour, &c.), is never omitted, no matter if it is five seconds before commencing a battle. This is the true native way of telling a story, and it is even now a wonder to them to see how soon a European tells the story of a journey, or voyage, or any event whatever. If a native goes on a journey of three days' duration, during which nothing whatever of any consequence may have occurred, it will take him at least one whole day to tell _all_ about it, and he is greatly annoyed at the impatient pakeha who wants to get the upshot of the whole story by impertinently saying, "Did you get what you went for?" To tell _that_ too soon would be out of all rule; every foot of the way must be gone over with every incident, however trivial, before the end is arrived at. They are beginning now to find that in talking to Europeans they must leave out one half at least of a story to save time, but the old men _can't_ help making the most of a chance of talking. To cut a story short seems to them a _waste of words_ by _not_ speaking them, while we think it a decided waste of words _to_ speak them. In old times the natives had so few subjects for conversation that they _made the most_ of what they had, which accounts for their verbosity in trifling matters.]

So the soldiers, sailors, and other Europeans advanced to the attack of Heke's pa, and with them came also Walker and his men; but before we had gone far, we observed the soldiers carrying on their shoulders certain things made of cloth and wood; these things were rolled up, and we did not know the use of them, so we asked what they were, and were told they were _kauhoa_ on which to carry the dead or wounded! This was the worst of all; there were those soldiers going to battle, and actually carrying on their shoulders things to put themselves on when they were dead! So we began to say one to another, "Those soldiers walking there are all dead men. It only wants a few guns to be fired, and they will be all killed." So some of the chiefs told some of the chiefs of the soldiers what a dreadfully unlucky thing they were doing, but they all laughed, and said that they came there to fight, and that whenever people fought some one was sure to be killed or wounded, and that it was right to have something to carry them on. But our people said it was time enough to think of carrying a man when he could not stand, and that by what they were doing they were _calling_ for death and destruction; and they tried hard to get the soldiers to throw away these things, but the soldiers would not listen to them. So we all said, "This is not a war party here marching on this plain, but a _mate_" (a funeral procession); so all the Maori left the soldiers, and went and sat on the top of the hill called Taumata Kakaramu, except about forty men, Walker's relations, who would not leave him. We felt sorry for the soldiers; but we said, "Let them fight their own battle to-day, and if they are successful we will help them in every other fight." But no one could believe they would be successful.

At last the soldiers and sailors got before Heke's pa; the main body of the soldiers remained opposite to it, at the side next to Walker's camp--the rest, about one hundred men, sailors and soldiers, went round by the shore of the lake, which was on the right of the pa, and so got behind it; and on that side there was but one slight fence, and no _pekerangi_.[22] The soldiers had told us in the morning that they would rush on both sides of the pa at once, and that it would be taken in a moment, and that then they would come home to breakfast.

[Footnote 22: Heke's pa at the lake, the first we ever attacked, was the weakest ever built by the natives in the war. Had it not been for Kawiti's appearance just at the moment the storming party were about to advance, and thus making a diversion, it would most certainly have been taken, and as certain all its defenders killed or taken prisoners; for if the soldiers had entered _then_, the friendly natives, who were outside in great numbers, would have prevented any escaping. As it turned out, however, the place was not taken, and this gave the natives courage to continue the war, in the course of which they acquired so much confidence, that now they think less of fighting Europeans, and are less afraid of them, than of their own countrymen.]

So now the soldiers were in front of the pa, and also behind it; and on the right was the lake, and on the left was Walker with about forty men, and behind Walker there was a wood--he was between the wood and the pa.

Then the soldiers who had the rocket gun went a little to the left front of the pa, and set the gun upon its legs, and pointed it straight at the pa. Then all the people on the top of Taumata Kakaramu fixed their eyes on this gun. We watched it closely, and held our breath, and had great fear for the people in the pa--for they were, although against us, all Ngapuhi, the same _iwi_ as ourselves, and many of them our near relations--and we never expected to see them more by reason of this gun, we had heard so much of it. At last, a great smoke was seen to issue from one end of the gun, and the rocket came out of the other. At first it did not go very fast, but it had not gone far before it began to flame, and roar, and dart straight towards the pa. It had a supernatural appearance, and rushed upon the pa like a falling star; but just as it was about to enter the pa it swerved from its course, touched the ground outside, and then rose and flew away over the pa, without doing any harm, and no one could tell where that first rocket went to, for it was the _Ngakahi_, the familiar spirit of the _atua wera_, who had blown upon it with his breath and turned it away, according to his word when he spoke by the mouth of the _tohunga_; for up to this time Heke and his people had kept strictly all the sacred customs, and infringed none of them. So the _Ngakahi_ remained guarding them from all danger.

When we saw that the first rocket had gone by the pa and done no harm, we all gave a great sigh, and our minds were eased; a second rocket was fired, and a third, and so till they were all gone, but not one did any harm, for the _Ngakahi_ had turned them all away--not one entered the pa.

Now, before the first rocket was fired, Heke came out of the front gate of the pa to watch the effect of the rocket, and he stood outside praying a Maori prayer, and holding with one hand to a post of the fence. Then the first rocket was fired; it came very near him, and passed away without doing any harm. Then another was fired, and missed also; so when Heke saw this, he cried out in a loud voice, "What prize can be won by such a gun?"[23] and this has become a saying amongst us from that day; for whenever we hear a man boasting of what he can do, we think of the rocket, and cry, "What prize can be won by such a gun?"

[Footnote 23: "_E aha te kai e pahure i aia._" My translation is not very literal; a literal translation would not give the sense to the reader not acquainted with the Maori language; my free translation gives it exactly.]