An Old New Zealander; or, Te Rauparaha, the Napoleon of the South.

Of the warrior's coming glee,
And the departure of Rongo-ma-whiti."

While Te Rauparaha was enjoying the fruits of his victory, his forces received welcome reinforcements from two quarters. The news of battles fought and laurels won had reached Taranaki, where the Ngati-Tama chief, Te Puoho, and some of his followers, whose curiosity had been aroused by the tales told by their returned tribesmen, came down to learn the truth of the matter for themselves. Close upon their heels came the long-hoped-for band of Ngati-Raukawa, who signalised their advent by at once attacking the settlements in the Rangitikei and Manawatu districts. While one party skirted the coast,[62 - This force, to the number of 120, was led by Te Ahu-karamu, a chief who afterwards became a prominent and progressive leader of the Maori people on the west coast.] the other struck inland, and under their chiefs, Te Whatu and Te Whetu, surrounded and captured a Ngati-Apa pa at Rangiure, and then proceeded to Pikitane, where they killed a number of the resident people and made the rest prisoners. These two settlements had been taken completely by surprise, their people little dreaming that a war party was marching through the land. No better prepared were the Ngati-Apa then living at Awahuri, who were next attacked, and their chief, named Te Aonui, was added to the train of captives. The invaders then pushed their victorious march down the course of the Oroua River, as far as its junction with the Manawatu. Here they crossed the larger stream, and immediately attacked the pa at Te Whakatipua. This assault was stoutly resisted by the chiefs, Kaihinu and Piropiro, who paid the penalty with their lives, but the remainder of the people who were not shot by the invaders were spared on proffering a humble submission. This was practically the only discreet course open to them. Not only were they placed at a serious disadvantage, away from their fighting pas, but many of the Ngati-Raukawa were armed with guns, while the Rangitane people had not as yet been able to discard the wooden spears and stone clubs of their forefathers.

The rapid movements of the Ngati-Raukawa, and the completeness of their captures, had prevented the news of their presence being despatched to the adjoining settlements; and, as a consequence, when they ascended the Manawatu and came upon the little pa at Rotoatane, situated not far from Tiakitahuna,[63 - Called by the early European settlers "Jackeytown."] they were able to attack and capture it almost before the people could be summoned from the fields. Not that it was a bloodless victory. A Rangitane chief, named Tina, fought with desperation, and, before he was overpowered by superior numbers, three of the assailants were stretched dead at his feet. Once more the advance was sounded, the objective this time being the pa at Tiakitahuna itself. This settlement was under the chieftainship of Toringa and Tamati Panau, the latter being the father of the chief Kerei te Panau,[64 - Kerei te Panau was at this time a lad of about ten years of age, and probably owes the fact that he lived to be about ninety-four years of age to this flight across the river in the canoes.] who until recently lived at Awapuni. These men were evidently more alert than their neighbours, for no sooner did the taua come in sight than they took to their canoes and paddled across to the opposite bank of the river. While the two tribes were thus ranged on opposite sides of the stream, the Rangitane had time to consider the position. Tamati Panau was the first to seek an explanation, by calling out to Te Whatu, "Where is the war party from?" Clear and quick came the answer back, "From the north." That was sufficient for Toringa, who had already tested the mettle of the northerners, and he at once sent a curse across the water, hurled at the heads of the invaders with all the venom that tribal hatred and a sense of injured vanity could instil. Whether it was the dread of Toringa's denunciation, or whether the Ngati-Raukawa were satisfied with their unbroken course of victory, is not clear to the present-day historian; but the Rangitane traditions relate that, after firing a single shot from one of their muskets, the invaders retired from the district, taking their prisoners with them, and made their way south to join Te Rauparaha, who was anxiously awaiting their coming.

The prospect opened up to these new-comers was far beyond anything that they had dreamed. In fact, so fascinated was Te Ahu-karamu with the new and beautiful country which his great kinsman had conquered that, after a reasonable rest, he returned to Taupo for the purpose of bringing the whole of his people away from a position which was daily becoming more exposed to the aggression of the Waikato tribes. But his designs in this direction were nearly thwarted by the persistency with which the tribe clung to their northern home, even in defiance of his threat to invoke the wrath of his atua[65 - Atua – a god.] if they dared to question the command of their chief. Finding that the terrors of his god had no influence upon them, Karamu adopted an instrument of the devil, and, taking a torch in his hand, brought his obdurate tribesmen to their senses by burning every house in the pa to the ground. Rendered thus houseless and homeless, there was nothing for the dejected people to do but to follow their imperious leader. In his journey back to Kapiti he was joined by two of the most famous chiefs of that day – Te Whatanui and Te Heuheu, the former of whom was destined to become the patriarch of Horowhenua and the protector of its persecuted people. Collecting a strong retinue of followers, the three chiefs set off in 1825 by the same route which Karamu had previously travelled down the valley of the Rangitikei, varying the monotony of the journey[66 - This migration is known to the Ngati-Raukawa tribe as the Heke Whirinui, owing to the fact that the whiri, or plaited collars of their mats, were made very large for the journey.] through the Ngati-Apa country by occasionally chasing frightened fugitives, in order to gratify their pride and glut their appetite.

Upon their arrival at Kapiti long and anxious consultations followed between the chiefs, the result of which was that Te Whatanui at last consented to migrate[67 - For this purpose, he and Te Heuheu returned to Taupo, some of the party passing across the Manawatu block, so as to strike the Rangitikei River inland, whilst the others travelled along the beach to the mouth of that river, intending to join the inland party some distance up. The inland party rested at Rangataua, where a female relative of Te Heuheu, famed for her extreme beauty, died of wounds inflicted upon her during the journey by a stray band of Ngati-Apa. A great tangi was held over her remains, and Te Heuheu caused her head to be preserved, he himself calcining her brains and strewing the ashes over the ground, which he declared to be for ever tapu. His people were joined by the party from the beach road at the junction of the Waituna with the Rangitikei, where the chief was presented with three Ngati-Apa prisoners. These were immediately sacrificed, and then the whole party resumed the journey to Taupo. Amongst the special events which occurred on the march was the capture of a Ngati-Apa woman and two children on the south side of the Rangitikei River. The unfortunate children were sacrificed during the performance of some solemn religious rite, and the woman, though in the first instance saved by Te Heuheu, who wished to keep her as a slave, was killed and eaten by Tangaru, one of the Ngati-Raukawa leaders. Shortly after this, Te Whiro, one of the greatest of the Ngati-Apa chiefs, with two women, were taken prisoners, and the former was put to death with great ceremony and cruelty, as utu for the loss of some of Te Heuheu's people who had been killed by Ngati-Apa long before, but the women were saved (Travers).] and throw in his fortunes with Te Rauparaha. This was eventually accomplished in 1828-29, the consolidation of the Ngati-Toa and Ngati-Raukawa tribes making their future absolutely secure and bringing Te Rauparaha's wildest dreams of conquest within measurable distance of accomplishment. His broadened aspirations had long before this extended across the Strait; and, next to the conquest of the coast on which he was now operating, it had become his greatest ambition to measure his strength against the natives of the Middle Island. Their reputed wealth in greenstone had aroused his avarice, while the prospect of acquiring additional territory appealed strongly to his love of power.

But before he was able to perfect his plans for carrying into effect this new stroke of aggression, an event occurred which was destined to have important results. It will be remembered that the crowning circumstance which had induced Te Rauparaha to leave Kawhia was the sight of a vessel beating through Cook Strait. He had there and then settled in his mind that this part of the coast was soon to become an important rendezvous for whalers, &c., and already his anticipations were being realised with an amazing rapidity. The whalers were now frequent visitors to Kapiti, and many were the marvels which they brought in their train. But most of all were the natives absorbed in the prospect of securing from these rough seafarers guns and ammunition, steel tomahawks, and other weapons, which would give them an advantage over their enemies in the only business then worth consideration – the business of war. Many of these ships, however, had not come prepared for this traffic,[68 - The native trade consisted of dressed flax and various kinds of fresh provisions, including potatoes, which, prior to the advent of the Ngati-Toa tribe, had not been planted on the west coast of the North Island.] and the lack of guns, rather than any hesitation to part with them, made the process of arming a tribe a slow one. It had at least proved much too slow for some of the more restless spirits of the race; and impatience, added to a natural love of adventure, had led some of them to ship to Sydney, and even to England, in the hope of bringing back with them the means of accelerating their enemies' destruction. Of these latter Hongi had been a conspicuous example, and the success which had attended his mission to England roused a spirit of emulation in the breasts of other chiefs, who were only waiting the opportunity of following his example. Of these, Te Pehi Kupe, the conqueror of Kapiti, was one of the few who were signally successful. Knowing no language but his own, having only the vaguest notions of what a voyage to England meant, and a very precarious prospect of ever being brought back, this man had thrown himself on board an English whaler, and, resolute against all dissuasions, and even against physical force, had insisted upon being carried to a country of which he had but two ideas – King George, of whom he had heard, and guns, which he had seen and hoped to possess.

Thus it came about that, while the ship Urania was lying becalmed in Cook Strait, about five or six miles from the land, on February 26, 1824, Captain Reynolds perceived three large canoes, fully manned, approaching the vessel. Doubtful what such a demonstration might portend, Captain Reynolds put his ship in a condition to resist an attack if necessary; and when the canoes were within hail, he, by word and sign, endeavoured to warn them off. Had he chosen, he might easily have sent the frail-looking barques to the bottom by a single shot from the ship's guns; but, unlike many another skipper of those days, Captain Reynolds was a man actuated by considerations which went beyond himself, and the thought of the retaliation which might fall upon other mariners coming to the shores of New Zealand restrained him from committing any such act of brutality. Fortunately there was no need for drastic action, and the behaviour of the natives was such as to leave no doubt in the mind of the captain that their intentions were of a peaceable character. Te Pehi boldly directed his crew to paddle alongside the ship, and, divesting himself of all his clothing except a mat which was slung across his shoulders, he, with the swiftness of an athlete, climbed on board. When he reached the deck, he endeavoured by signs and gestures to convey to Captain Reynolds that what he wanted was arms and ammunition, and, on being informed that the ship had none to spare, he coolly indicated that, such being the case, he had decided to remain on board and proceed to Europe[69 - The words which Te Pehi is reported to have used were "Go Europe, see King Georgi." Dr. John Savage in his Account of New Zealand, refers to the apparent preference which the natives had for the word Europe over that of England. He says of a native whom he took to London with him, from the Bay of Islands: "I never could make Mayhanger pronounce the word England, therefore I was content to allow him to make use of Europe instead, which he pronounced without difficulty." Possibly Te Pehi experienced the same difficulty of pronunciation.] to see King George. These words he had evidently learned from some of Captain Reynolds' predecessors, for he was able to pronounce them with sufficient distinctness to be clearly understood. The audacity of this proposal completely staggered the master of the Urania, and he at once tried to nip such ambitious hopes in the bud by peremptorily ordering the chief back to his canoe. Te Pehi, however, met this direction by calling to his men to move the canoe away from the ship, and the captain next sought to give his command practical force by throwing the chief overboard, in the hope and belief that the canoes would pick him up out of the sea. But in this he was again checkmated. The chief threw himself down on the deck and seized hold of two ring-bolts, with so powerful a grip that it was impossible to tear him away without such violence as the humanity of Captain Reynolds would not permit. At this critical juncture a light breeze sprang up, and Te Pehi improved the favourable circumstance by ordering his men to paddle to the shore, as he was going to see King George, and that he would soon return. This command was at once obeyed, and the breeze carrying the Urania off the land, Captain Reynolds was reluctantly compelled to keep the chief on board that night. But, far from satisfied with his self-constituted passenger, he next day made another effort to force Te Pehi on shore, and nearly lost his ship in the attempt. This narrow escape, and the favourable conditions for getting away from New Zealand, to some extent reconciled the captain to an acceptance of the situation; but his chagrin was as great as was the delight of the chief, when it was found that there was no option but to keep him on board for the remainder of the voyage.

With more intimate acquaintance, the relations between the captain and chief grew to be of the most friendly nature, and they lived together, both on shipboard and on shore, the captain taking a kindly interest in explaining to his protégé the mysteries of the great world upon which he was entering, while the native clung to his new-found friend with a confiding affection.[70 - The Maori became popular in the Urania, and at Monte Video plunged into the sea and rescued the drowning captain, who had fallen overboard (Rusden).] The Urania ultimately reached Liverpool, where Te Pehi was the subject of much public attention. He was shown over the principal manufactories in Manchester and London, his great anxiety to see King George was gratified, and, although he was subject to a good deal of sickness, yet, thanks to the care of Captain Reynolds, he made an excellent recovery. After about a year's residence in England, he was placed on board H.M. ship The Thames, and in October, 1825, he sailed for his native land, loaded with presents of clothing and agricultural implements, which were given him by benevolently minded people in the hope that, combined with the knowledge of their use and blessing, which he had acquired in England, they would exercise an elevating influence upon his countrymen when he should return amongst them. Vain hope; for on his arrival at Sydney, Te Pehi reversed the beautiful biblical allegory, and turned his pruning hooks into spears and his ploughshares into guns and ammunition, to aid in the work of waging eternal warfare against the enemies of his tribe.[71 - Captain Reynolds was allowed a sum of £200 by the British Government as compensation for the trouble and expense to which he had been put by his enforced alliance with Te Pehi (see N.Z. Historical Records). The account of the chief's visit to England will be found in the volume of The Library of Entertaining Knowledge for 1830.]

Early in the year 1824, and immediately after Te Pehi's departure for England, Te Rauparaha found that, in consequence of the many recent additions to his forces, the number of natives who had placed themselves under his command was then sufficient to enable him to begin the main purpose of his conquest, namely, the systematic occupation of the land.[72 - One of the migrations which took place about this time consisted of 140 Ngati-Raukawa men under the leadership of Nepia Taratoa. It is known in history as the Heke Kariritahi, from the fact that those warriors who were armed with muskets had hit upon the shrewd plan of enlarging the touch-holes of their guns, in order to save the time which otherwise would be occupied in priming. They were thus able to keep up a much more rapid fire upon the enemy. Te Whatanui came down with this heke, to consult further with Te Rauparaha, but finding him absent from Kapiti, he returned to Taupo to prepare for the migration of his own people.] He and his own immediate tribe having decided to occupy the island of Kapiti, where they could be in closer touch with the whalers, he now proceeded to partition the country along the coast amongst the new arrivals. The first division led to civil war and domestic feuds between a section of Ngati-Raukawa and the Ngati-Tama from Taranaki, under Te Puoho, which at one time threatened to destroy all that he had already accomplished; and it was not until a new allotment was agreed upon, by which Ngati-Awa, to whom Ngati-Tama were closely related, were given exclusive possession of the country south of the Kukutauaki stream, and the Ngati-Raukawa sole dominion over the district northward of that boundary as far as the Wangaehu River, that his power to resist his enemies was restored by the restoration of harmony amongst his friends. Not that there was any immediate danger of attack; for his incessant raids upon the Ngati-Apa and Muaupoko tribes had reduced them to the condition of a shattered and fugitive remnant, incapable alike of organised attack or organised defence.

It was probably one of the proudest days of Te Rauparaha's life when, standing on Kapiti, he formally transferred the whole of the coast to his followers by right of conquest, than which no Maori could hope for a better title, and proclaimed to the assembled people the precise districts which were to be their future homes, where they were to cultivate, to catch eels, to snare and spear birds. These dispositions, however, did not imply that he was prepared to surrender his supreme authority over the lands, and the fact that he desired to, and intended to, retain his right of suzerainty was made abundantly clear. "The lands I now give you are in our joint rule, but I shall be greater in power than you individually"; such were the terms in which the transfer was made, and the people acquiesced in a unanimous "It is right, O Raha! it is as you say." But Ngati-Toa, Ngati-Raukawa and Ngati-Awa were commissioned to do something more than merely occupy the land. In imperious tones the great chief commanded them: "Clear the weeds from off my field." In other and less figurative words, they were to kill and persecute the conquered peoples without pity and without mercy; and perhaps it would have been well for Ngati-Raukawa had they more faithfully obeyed his instructions, instead of extending a sheltering arm to Ngati-Apa and Muaupoko, both of whom subsequently proved themselves so unworthy of this clemency.[73 - During the hearing by the Native Land Court in 1869 of the dispute which arose between the Ngati-Raukawa and Ngati-Apa tribes as to the right to sell the Rangitikei-Manawatu block of land to the Provincial Government of Wellington, Chief Judge Fenton remarked to Mr. Travers, who was appearing for Ngati-Raukawa, "The fact is, Mr. Travers, it appears to me that the flaw in your clients' title is that they did not kill and eat all these people."]

Under the arrangement thus determined upon at Kapiti the country round the beautiful lake at Horowhenua was taken possession of by that grand old member of a magnificent race, Te Whatanui, and those people who had come from the north with him. The district now known as Lower Manawatu was occupied by another section of the Ngati-Raukawa people, under Te Whetu, and, still higher up, Rangitikei came under the dominion of Nepia Taratoa, a chief who seems to have been as generous to Ngati-Apa as Whatanui was to Muaupoko. Southward of Horowhenua, as far as the present harbour of Wellington, the country was subsequently given over to Ngati-Awa, who were in settled possession when the first European colonists arrived. Here in 1825-26 Pomare, their chief, led the Ngati-Mutunga hapu of the Ngati-Awa people, who forcibly occupied the shores of the great bay, where they hoped to cultivate the friendship of the whalers,[74 - At times there were many whalers there – as many as a hundred – of various nations. Here they stayed while whales came near the coast: but when these ceased to come near the coast, the whalers went out on the ocean, and the ships which were full of oil went each to its own land, and Rauparaha went back to his people and home at Kapiti (Ngati-Toa account).] whose commerce was so profitable to them. Their tenure, however, was not an undisputed one. They were subjected to frequent raids and incessant harassment from the Wairarapa tribe, whom they had displaced, and who deeply resented being thus deprived of their one avenue of communication with the pakeha. This tribe, though powerless to retrieve the aggression of Ngati-Awa, missed no opportunity of irritating them, and Pomare was not reluctant to hand over his trust to some other chief, so soon as he could be honourably relieved of it. This opportunity came when, after the fall of the Puke-rangiora pa in 1831, the survivors of that (for Ngati-Awa) disastrous day, together with the flower of their tribe from their other settlements, abandoned Taranaki, and came down, a fugitive host, to shelter under the protecting wing of Te Rauparaha.

With Te Puni, Wi Tako, and Wharepouri, an arrangement was entered into in 1834, whereby the land round the harbour and the right to contest the ownership of the territory with the unexterminated portion of the Ngati-Kahungunu were to be ceded to them for the consideration of a greenstone mere. Pomare was perhaps the more ready to relinquish possession of what is now amongst the most valuable land in the Dominion, because he had become possessed of information which seemed to open up a much more agreeable prospect than resisting the inconvenient incursions of his Wairarapa enemies. One of the young men of his tribe, Paka-whara, who had shipped on board a whaler, had just returned from a southern cruise, with the intelligence that the Chatham Islands were populated by a sleek and inoffensive people, who might be expected to fall an easy prey to such hardened veterans in war as Ngati-Awa could now furnish. Pomare at once acted upon the inspiration; and chartering, partly by payment and partly by intimidation, the British brig Rodney, he sailed with his followers in November, 1835, for the Chathams, where, by a fearful destruction of human life, the well-conditioned, unwarlike Morioris were reduced within the short space of two years to a remnant of two hundred souls.

Whether the allocation of these districts to these particular chiefs was due to their own choice or to the will of Te Rauparaha is not known; but in the case of Te Whetu the former appears to have been the fact. During the raid which he made upon Manawatu while migrating to Kapiti, he had secured amongst his captives a handsome young Rangitane woman named Hinetiti, whose charms so pleased him that when he reached Kapiti he made her his wife. Hine's gentleness moved her lord and master in a way that sterner methods would not, and she soon obtained such an influence over him that her will became his desire. Doubtless the memory of her old home was ever present with her, even amongst the beauties of Kapiti; and, when the partition of the country was being spoken of in the kaingas, she urged Te Whetu to take her back to the banks of the Manawatu, where she might be once more with her friends and relatives. In deference to this wish, Te Whetu brought her to a little settlement named Te Iwi te Kari, near Foxton. With them came the Ngati-Wehiwehi hapu, bringing the prisoners whom they had taken eighteen months before, and together they occupied the district around Matai-Kona.

The Manawatu was still well stocked with Rangitane, for many of their larger settlements in the upper portion of the district had not been so completely depopulated as some of the more southern pas by the captures and slaughters of the marauding northerners. The presence of the Ngati-Raukawa in the midst of their country put no check upon their freedom, and, according to their ancient custom, they moved about from one kainga to another at their pleasure. Indeed, the relations between the Rangitane and Ngati-Raukawa appear to have been of the most friendly nature after the return of the captives from Kapiti, a fact which the former attribute to the marriage of Te Whetu with their chieftainess, but which in reality was due to the generosity of the Ngati-Raukawa, who, had they chosen, might have left nothing but smoking ruins and bleaching bones to tell of the Rangitane's former existence.

The feeling, however, was not so cordial between the Rangitane and the natives immediately under the leadership of Te Rauparaha, who allowed no circumstance to mitigate his extreme desire for revenge; and, although no pitched battles took place, there were occasional skirmishes and massacres which served to keep alive the fires of hate. In like manner he constantly harried the Muaupoko and such members of the Ngati-Apa tribe as he now and then fell in with, until these people, feeling life to be unbearable if they were to be hunted like beasts of prey, decided to place themselves beyond the reach of so relentless a tormentor. They accordingly, to the number of three hundred souls, including women and children, determined upon flight into the Wairarapa; and there they threw themselves upon the mercy of the Ngati-Kahungunu, who might be expected to display some sympathy for other victims of the suffering from which they themselves had not escaped. But here again the hapless people were doomed to a bitter experience. Instead of being received with the open arms of welcome, they were cruelly set upon and driven back over the Tararua Ranges, because of some old and unavenged act of violence which their friends had committed, but of which they had probably never heard.

Spurned from the only asylum which appeared to be open to them, Ngati-Apa returned to Rangitikei and sought the protection of Rangihaeata and Nepia Taratoa, to both of whom they paid tribute for the right to live. Muaupoko placed themselves under the protecting arm of a Ngati-Raukawa chief named Tuahine, whose heart was touched by their destitute and defenceless condition. But his intervention was of little avail. However willing he might have been – and there is no reason to doubt his sincerity – he proved quite unable to shield them against the never-dying wrath of Te Rauparaha. Hearing from some of the Ngati-Raukawa people that the remnant of the Muaupoko tribe was once more beginning to gather round the Horowhenua and Papaitonga lakes, he organised a force of Ngati-Toa, Ngati-Huia and Ngati-Tama warriors, and marched upon Papaitonga in defiance of the vehement protests of Tuahine and many other Ngati-Raukawa chiefs, who wished to have done with this incessant slaughter. This lake, which covers an area of about one hundred and twenty-five acres, lies a few miles to the southward of Horowhenua. From time immemorial it had been the home of the Muaupoko tribe, by whom it was originally called Waiwiri, but in more recent days the name of the larger of the two gem-like islands encircled by its waters has been applied to the whole lake. Papaitonga, which signifies, "the islet of the South," is a name which reveals in bright relief the poetic fancy of the Maori; for, even now, when its scenic charms have to some extent succumbed to the demands of settlement, the lake and its surroundings still present one of the most charming beauty spots in the whole Dominion. A deep fringe of tree-ferns and underwood, backed by a dense forest of native bush, skirts its north and northeast shores. Southward, through occasional breaches in the woods, can be seen the open undulating ground, gradually rising until it reaches the foot of the Tararuas, whose snow-capped peaks seem to touch the azure sky. Westward, stretching away to the sea, are the low flats over which meanders the slow-winding Waiwiri stream, which forms the outlet of the lake. Here the visitor is indeed on classic ground, for there is scarcely a feature of the landscape which has not, for the Maori, some historic association, some tragic story, some deepening memory of the hoary past. To this day the island of Papaitonga, so restful with its luxuriant crown of soft foliage, but which in the days of old was a sanguinary battle-ground, remains "a perfect necropolis of human bones," lying concealed beneath a living shroud of vegetation, which has silently risen to obscure from human sight the gruesome evidence of human savagery.

It was to this spot that Te Rauparaha now, in 1827-28, led his warriors, arriving there late in the afternoon. His first care was effectually to surround the lake. This he did by posting strong detachments of men at various points, the reason for this disposition being a doubt as to which direction the fugitives would take in their flight, which rendered it expedient to intercept them at every possible avenue of escape. Ten men were then left in concealment near the canoe-landing, the smallness of the number being designed to deceive the inhabitants of the island, who at this time numbered several hundred. It was arranged that these men should, in the early morning, call to the people on the island to bring them a canoe, the intention being to create the impression in the minds of the islanders that they were a party of friends. Accordingly, when those in the pa began to be astir, Te Riu called out to Kahurangi: —

"E Kahu, e! Hoea mai te waka ki au. Ko tou tangata tenei." (O Kahu, bring over a canoe for me, I am your man.)

Either the call was not heard, or a lurking suspicion forbade a ready compliance with the request, for no movement was made by the islanders in the direction desired until Te Riu had called again: —

"Hoea mai te waka, kia maua ko to tangata. Ko Te Ruru tenei." (Send a canoe for me and your friend. Te Ruru is here.)

This last appeal was not without avail. A chief named Takare ordered two men to paddle a canoe across and bring Te Ruru to the island, at the same time impressing upon them the need of keeping a sharp lookout on shore to prevent unpleasant surprises. No sooner had the canoe put off than two of the Ngati-Toa divested themselves of their clothing, and waded out amongst the raupo flags which grew near the landing, keeping only their heads above the water. One was armed with a tomahawk, and the other with a stone club known as an onewa, and their mission was to prevent the return of the canoe, should the men who brought it refuse to take the party on board. On came the canoe; but when passing the bulrushes, the rowers, who were peering cautiously about, detected the heads of the two men amongst the raupo, and in an instant the conviction of treachery flashed upon them. The man in the stern of the canoe excitedly called to his companion to shove off; but Whakatupu, the Ngati-Toa, was too quick for him. Springing from his concealment, he laid hold of the bow of the canoe and began to haul it towards the landing. The Muaupoko nearest to him made a lunge at his head with the paddle, but Whakatupu skilfully parried the thrust with his short-handled axe, and then, turning upon his assailant, with an unerring blow cleft his skull, and sent the lifeless body reeling back into the water. When the man in the stern of the canoe saw the fate of his companion, he immediately leaped overboard, and dived, coming to the surface again well out of the reach of the enemy. By diving and swimming, he at length succeeded in reaching the shore, where he concealed himself amongst some low brushwood, only to find that he had been tracked, and that it was his fate to be shot by Aperahama.

The report of the gun, echoing through the silent bush and across the face of the placid lake, was the signal to the concealed warriors that the day's work had commenced, and to the unhappy islanders the announcement that the dogs of war had again been let loose upon them. They instantly prepared for flight, for to men without guns resistance was hopeless, even had it been possible. While they were swarming into their canoes, their panic was considerably accelerated by the sight of a Ngati-Huia warrior swimming towards the island discharging his musket as he swam. He had tied his cartouche box round his neck, and with his hands he loaded and re-loaded his gun, while he propelled himself through the water by his legs. When he reached the island, the inhabitants had already left, and were making for the shore. Here they were met by a deadly fusilade from one of Te Rauparaha's detachments, who were quietly waiting for them. They then turned their canoes, and made an effort to land at another point, only to be driven back by a second attack as disastrous as the first. Attempt after attempt was made to land, and here and there a strong swimmer or a swift runner succeeded in escaping; but the harvest of death was heavy, the bulk of the people, including all the chiefs, being shot. "As for the few who escaped," says a native account, "some took refuge at Horowhenua, and others fled to the mountains. After the fall of Papaitonga, the war party went on to Horowhenua, where there was more killing. Driven from there, the Muaupoko fugitives crossed over to Weraroa and fled to the hills. Then the war party returned to Papaitonga. What followed was according to Maori custom, but who would care to tell of it? I have a horror of that part of the story. If you want to know, ask the old men of the Ngati-Toa – Ngahuku, Tungia, and the others. That is all." Amongst those who were slain in this fight was Toheriri,[75 - Toheriri was prominent in the conspiracy of 1822 in connection with the gift of canoes. After that event, he, with his particular hapu, went to the Wairarapa for two years, and then returned to Papaitonga, where he was killed on this occasion, it is said, with great barbarity.] a Muaupoko chief, whose wife was inspired by the occasion to compose a lament in which she mourned the death of her husband, and implied that Tuahine had broken his pledge by exposing her people to the raid. But, in justice to that chief, it has to be admitted that he was entirely powerless to interpose on their behalf; while, on the other hand, the whole incident serves to show how ruthlessly Te Rauparaha cherished his desire for revenge, and how inadequate he considered the lapse of time and the slaughter of hundreds to satisfy the manes of his children murdered by Muaupoko at Papaitonga.

So Muaupoko died – or what was left of them lived, and were suffered to retain some of their lands around Horowhenua Lake. Pathetic laments for their lost lands and their departed mana have been composed, and are still sung amongst them. One chanted by Taitoko in a lamentation over the dead of his tribe is universally known and sung by the Maoris of the coast: —

"The sun is setting,
Drawn to his ocean cave —
Sinking o'er the peak of Pukehinau.
Here wild with grief am I,
Lonely as the bird in the
Great waste of waters.
Wait, wait awhile, O Sun,
And we'll go down together."

CHAPTER V

THE SOUTHERN RAIDS

The events just narrated have brought us in point of time to early in the year 1828, by which period Te Rauparaha was unquestionably master of the whole coast from Whanganui to Wellington. Not only was his supremacy indisputable in that he had completely silenced his enemies, but success had brought its natural result in the shape of numerous reinforcements, which had come from the shores of Taupo to share in his adventurous cause. Thus he was both free and able to give his undivided attention to the realisation of a dream which he had long cherished, and which he one day hoped to realise. This was no less ambitious a scheme than the invasion and conquest of the Middle Island, the forest-clad hills and snow-capped mountains of which were plainly discernible as he gazed wistfully across the broken waters of Raukawa (Cook's Strait). But it was not the scenic beauties of the island which attracted the keen eye of Te Rauparaha, for these alone would have no charm for him. His mind was cast in the material rather than in the æsthetic mould; his thoughts ran to practical rather than to artistic ends, and the real magnet which attracted him southward was the hope of possessing himself of the large store of greenstone which, according to report, the Ngai-Tahu people had collected at Kaikoura as the result of their periodical excursions to the west coast, where alone this valuable jade could be obtained.[76 - To the ancient Maori greenstone was invaluable as a material out of which to manufacture weapons and ornaments; but after the introduction of fire-arms the mere was superseded by the musket, and it is doubtful if, when the trinkets of the European were available, the native would take the trouble to laboriously work out an ornament from so hard a substance.] Avarice and love of conquest were driving forces in his plans, but there was yet another motive operating to impel him onward. If the reader will recall the circumstances attending the battle of Waiorua, it will be remembered that the host which on that occasion invaded Kapiti had been collected from far and near. Some among them had even come from the tribe of Ngai-Tahu, which was then the most powerful branch of the Maori race occupying the Middle Island, of which they had dispossessed the Ngati-Mamoe some two hundred years before. One of the principal pas of these people in the northern end of the island was situated on a high cliff overlooking the bay of Kaikoura, which at this time was estimated to contain between three and four thousand souls, living under the direction of a chief named Rerewaka. When the fugitives from Kapiti reached their settlements on the Middle Island, and carried with them marvellous tales of Te Rauparaha's prowess in battle, these stories only tended to intensify the feelings of hatred and envy already cherished by the southern chiefs. Their impotent rage found expression in a vain and unfortunate boast made by Rerewaka, which supplied Te Rauparaha with the strongest of all incentives to a Maori raid – the desire for revenge. Rerewaka had not himself been present at the battle of Waiorua, otherwise he might have been more modest in his language towards the invincible Te Rauparaha. But he had had friends with the allies, and the chagrin felt at their annihilation, and the taunting song of triumph chanted by the victorious Ngati-Toa, in which the subjection of the Ngai-Tahu was hinted at, provoked him to declare in an unguarded moment that "if ever Te Rauparaha dared to set foot on his land, he would rip his belly open with a niho mango."[77 - A shark's tooth fixed upon a stick and used as a knife.] This oral indiscretion was overheard by a slave standing by, who shortly afterwards, making his escape, reported Rerewaka's boast to Rauparaha. The chief of the Ngati-Toa heard with placid countenance of his threatened fate, and in answer merely remarked, "So he has said," the apparent unconcern of his reply justifying the native proverb concerning him: "Ko te uri o kapu manawa whiti" (No one knew his thoughts, whether they were good or evil). He was really glad at heart of this further pretext for attacking and conquering the tribes of the Middle Island.[78 - This could scarcely have been otherwise, for Rerewaka's insolent speech amounted to a kanga, or curse, which, according to the Maori code, could only be atoned for by the shedding of blood.] But while he had his mind bent upon revenge and his eyes fixed upon the treasure of greenstone, he was in no haste to put his design into execution. Leisurely action would enable him to mobilise his own forces, and serve to wrap his enemies in imagined security; and so for two years he waited patiently, keeping his warriors in fighting trim by repeated skirmishes with the shattered remnants of the Muaupoko and other northern tribes. But now his plans had fully matured, and by this time he had succeeded in gathering a large quantity of arms and ammunition from the Europeans, who, having learnt its advantages, were making Kapiti a frequent port of call and a place of some importance in the whaling industry. With these weapons he equipped his chosen men, who, when fighting with their native meres, were superior even to the best of the Ngai-Tahu or Rangitane, but, when armed with the more modern implements of the pakeha, became simply invincible. His fleet of canoes[79 - The canoe used by Te Rauparaha on many of these southern raids was called Ahu-a-Turanga, and for this reason it is supposed that it came from the Manawatu, that being the name of an ancient track over the Ruahine Ranges near the Manawatu gorge. It is said that this canoe is now lying rotting at Porirua Harbour. Another famous canoe of this period was called Te-Ra-makiri, a vessel captured from the Ngati-Kahu-ngunu at Castle Point by Ngati-Tama, and presented by them to Te Rauparaha. This canoe was held to be exceedingly sacred, and now lies at Mana Island.] also had been strengthened by the captures he had made after the battle of Waiorua, so that he had ample accommodation for the three hundred and forty men who comprised his expeditionary force. With this force, the most perfectly equipped that he had yet commanded, Rauparaha crossed the Strait, making Rangitoto (D'Urville Island) his first place of call. Here he found a section of the Rangitane tribe, the descendants of the people whom Captain Cook had first met at Ship Cove, who had now become powerful in the sense of being numerous. But where the odds of skill and arms were against them, numbers only supplied more victims for the cannibal feast which followed the battle. Everywhere the islanders were defeated and put to rout, many of them being eaten on the spot, and as many more carried back to Kapiti, there to await the dictates of their captors' appetites. Or, if they were fortunate enough to have their lives spared, the reprieve only enhanced their misfortune by carrying slavery and degradation with it.

Rauparaha on this occasion swept like a withering blast over the whole of the northern portion of the Marlborough Province, neither the seclusion of the Pelorus Sound nor the inaccessibility of the Wairau and Awatere Valleys protecting the inhabitants from the rapacity of his warriors. Deflecting their course from D'Urville Island, they next proceeded to the point known in Maori legend as "Kupe's spear," but more recently styled Jackson's Head. Here a temporary division of their forces took place, the Ngati-Awa allies proceeding up Queen Charlotte Sound as far as Waitohi, the Pelorus Sound being the objective of Te Rauparaha. The tribe who occupied the shores of this great waterway was the Ngati-Kuia, an offshoot of Ngati-Apa, who were famed for their skill as fishermen, but who did little cultivation. Their principal pa, a semi-fortified village called Hikapu, stood at the junction of the Pelorus and Kenepuru reaches; and, when the fleet of northern canoes was seen sweeping up the Sound, the cry was raised "Te Iwi hou e!" (The newcomers! the new people!) That their coming boded them no good, Ngati-Kuia knew, and those who could, disappeared into the forest, while those who could not stayed to fight for the mana of their tribe and the honour of their ancestral home. For them the battle was one against fearful odds; for, this being their first acquaintance with firearms, they were seized with panic, and the fight soon degenerated into a massacre. "What are those lights and the smoke we see at the village?" inquired a boy as he was being hurried through the bush by his fugitive father. "That," replied the sobbing parent – "that is Ngati-Toa burning your ancestors' and our houses."[80 - "Having reached at sunset to within a mile of the spot where the Pelorus anchored, we again encamped on a shingly beach in a bay on the east side of the Sound. At this spot there were some ten or fifteen acres of level ground, on which we were shown the remains of a large pa, once the headquarters of the tribe conquered and almost exterminated by Te Rauparaha" (Wakefield).]

Whatever hesitation Te Rauparaha may have had about raiding the Wairau during this campaign, was dispelled on its being reported to him that the Rangitane chief of the valley, Te Rua-Oneone, whose pa, called Kowhai, was situated near the mouth of the Wairau River, had heaped a curse upon his head, an insult which called for prompt and vigorous action. As yet the Wairau natives had had no experience of Rauparaha's qualities as a fighting chief. But they had heard rumours, and had listened to tales of his doings on the other island, which, although painted in glowing colours, had nevertheless been regarded with contempt by many of the leading chiefs. Amongst these incredulous persons was Te Rua-Oneone, who treated the matter so lightly as to remark that "Te Rauparaha's head would one day be beaten with a fern-root pounder." According to the Maori code, there was but one way of dealing with a scoffer who could speak so contemptuously of a chief; and therefore, when the natives of Pelorus, D'Urville Island, and Totaranui had been hopelessly beaten, the canoes were ordered to the Wairau, where the boastful Te Rua-Oneone had direct experience of what manner of man Te Rauparaha was. The fight, which took place on the land now enclosed within Bank Farm, was soon over, and could only have one result. The Rangitane were brave men, but their stone and wooden weapons were useless against the muskets of the Ngati-Toa. Te Rua-Oneone was captured and carried as a slave to Kapiti, where he had time and opportunity to reflect upon his defeat, which Rauparaha, with appropriate sarcasm, called tuki tuki patu aruhe, which signifies "beaten with a fern-root pounder."

Nor was this merely a raid of bloodshed. Rauparaha sought territorial aggrandisement, and adopted the Roman principle of securing the fruits of his conquest by planting a colony of his tribe at every centre along the route of his victorious march. In each case the newcomers made slaves of the strong amongst the men and the beautiful amongst the women of the people whom they vanquished.[81 - It was to this policy of settlement, following upon conquest, that Marlborough owes the presence of the little cluster of northern natives who are settled on the banks of the Wairau River – the most southern outpost that now remains to mark the aggression of Te Rauparaha.]

No sooner had this shattering blow been delivered against the fortunes of Ngai-Tahu than Te Rauparaha gave his attention to a matter which from force of circumstances had been neglected for many months. At the earnest solicitation of Ngati-Raukawa, he now agreed to march against the Whanganui people, who, it will be remembered, were responsible for the destruction of one of the several Ngati-Raukawa migrations prior to the first visit to the South Island. A force which, it is said, numbered nearly a thousand fighting men, led by the most distinguished chiefs of the allied tribes, with Te Rauparaha in supreme command, proceeded up the coast and attacked the Putikiwharanui pa, which was defended by a garrison almost twice as numerous as the assailants. Though not protracted, the struggle was fierce. The defenders made many desperate sorties, fighting with great determination and affording a fine example of courage, during the two months over which the investment extended. The damage, however, which they were able to inflict had no effect in causing the forces of Te Rauparaha to relinquish their grip. After a spirited defence of eight weeks, the assailants succeeded in carrying the place by storm, and the inhabitants suffered so severely that they were never afterwards able to seek the satisfaction of retaliation.[82 - Hori Kingi Te Anaua, a chief well-known in after years as the firm friend of the Whanganui settlers, escaped from this defeat, as one quaint native account puts it, "by dint of his power to run."]

While the Ngati-Toa were engaged in these minor operations, an event occurred which increased the mana of their chief amongst his own people and added considerably to his reputation abroad. This was the opportune arrival of his uncle and former comrade, Te Pehi Kupe, who, laden with the store of weapons which he had procured in Sydney, was brought back to New Zealand at this critical juncture in the history of the tribe.[83 - Some difficulty has been experienced in closely tracing the movements of Te Pehi. He left England on board H.M.S. Thames in October, 1825, and the Thames reached Sydney on April 11, 1826. Whether she came on to New Zealand bringing the chief with her, I have not ascertained. The probabilities are that she did, for the late Judge Mackay, who is an excellent authority, says Te Pehi returned direct to New Zealand, but afterwards made the voyage back to Sydney to procure arms, from which place he returned in 1829, at the juncture referred to in the text.] The jubilation at such an event was necessarily great; not so much, perhaps, because of the wanderer's return, as because of what he had brought with him. There is at least no denying the fact that Te Pehi soon forgot what little of civilisation he had learned, except in so far as it enabled him to become a more destructive savage. He at once coalesced with his former leader; and with this valuable addition to his staff of councillors, and the enhancement of his munitions of war, Te Rauparaha felt more than equal to the task of carrying the battle to the gates of Kaikoura.

Out of this extreme confidence grew a further development of the Ngati-Toa scheme of conquest. Their forces were now divided into two sections, the one proceeding to the great bays on the Nelson Coast, where they intended forcibly establishing themselves, while the remainder, under their old leader, aided by Te Pehi and a staff of other warriors, prepared to test the merits of Rerewaka's boast. It was a fateful day in the summer of 1829 when the canoes with three hundred men left D'Urville Island and turned their prows to the south. Although few in numbers compared with the enemy they were going to meet, they knew that the advantage of arms was with them, almost every man being provided with a musket. Moreover, they were full of the animation which is born of complete confidence in one's leader, and which, in this case, almost amounted to a superstition. No war party with Rauparaha at its head ever took failure into account, some of the warriors even going so far as to declare that "it was only necessary to strike the enemy with the handles of their paddles in order to secure a victory."

Thus, well-armed and confident, the Ngati-Toa proceeded down the coast, resting the first day at Cloudy Bay, and subsequently at various other points, and arriving off Kaikoura before dawn on the fourth day. Not knowing what the exact disposition of the enemy's forces might be, and not being disposed for risks, Rauparaha anchored his canoes under the shadow of the peninsula, and then waited for the light. In this decision his characteristic good fortune did not desert him. It so happened that the Kaikoura natives were at that very time expecting a visit from some of their tribesmen in the south; and, when the first glimmering of dawn revealed a fleet of canoes on the bay below, there being nothing to indicate the direction from which they had come, the unsuspecting Ngai-Tahu assumed that their anticipated visitors had arrived. The early risers in the pa set up the song of welcome —Haere-mai, Haere-mai– and soon the whole settlement throbbed with life and activity, indicative of the jubilant expectation of a reunion of friends. Whilst the elders busied themselves with preparations for the hospitable entertainment of the strangers, the younger people rushed, shouting gaily, down to the beach, to escort the guests back to the pa. The quick eye of Te Rauparaha at once saw the trap into which his enemy had fallen; and, elated at his amazing good fortune, he ordered the advance of the canoes, which, with a few sweeping strokes of the paddles, were driven swiftly across the intervening water. Before the unwary victims had recognised their mistake or recovered from their surprise, the Ngati-Toa warriors were amongst them, dealing death-blows on every hand. As might have been expected, the Ngai-Tahu, being totally unarmed and unprepared for the attack, were slaughtered without remorse or resistance, and, as their only safety lay in flight, they beat a breathless retreat towards the pa, where for a time the semblance of a stand was made. But the muskets of their assailants were now doing their work of death, while their ruthless charges increased the havoc. Before long Rerewaka was a prisoner, over a thousand of his people were slain, and his stronghold was in the hands of his most detested enemies.

This decisive achievement was fully celebrated during the next ten days, with all the atrocities peculiar to cannibal feasts; and after the savage appetites of the victors had been surfeited with the flesh of their victims, and the nephritic treasures of the pa had been collected, the war party returned to Kapiti, carrying Rerewaka and four hundred additional prisoners with them, to be killed and eaten at the leisure of their conquerors. The majority of them in due course met this fate, Rerewaka himself being killed with especial marks of cruelty and indignity, because of the insulting nature of his language towards the Ngati-Toa chief.[84 - Here we meet with one of the many discrepancies in the published histories of the time. The Rev. Canon Stack makes it appear in his Kaiapohia that Rerewaka was killed during the battle, but Mr. Travers (Life and Times of Te Rauparaha) states that he was taken prisoner; and this version is sustained by Tamihana te Rauparaha in his published account of his father's life, wherein he says Rerewaka was taken to Kapiti to be "tamed."] In consideration of the circumstances which led to this attack upon Kaikoura, the victory has ever since been known as Niho Mango, or "the battle of the shark's tooth."

After the humiliation of Rerewaka and his people at Kaikoura, Rauparaha's greatest ambition was to pit himself in battle against that section of the Ngai-Tahu tribe who, under Tamaiharanui, Rongotara, and other powerful chiefs, held the strongly fortified pa at Kaiapohia. But before he had a reasonable excuse for picking a quarrel with the people of Kaiapoi, and so attacking them in a manner that would be strictly tika, or proper, he had another opportunity of returning to Kaikoura, to retrieve the dignity of himself and his friends. The cause of this second invasion, like the previous one, was somewhat remote; but, unlike it, it arose out of a superabundance of love rather than of hate. The offence complained of was not committed against Te Rauparaha, but against his nephew, Rangihaeata. Rangihaeata was at this time rapidly rising into fame as a daring and successful warrior, and his place in the tribe naturally demanded that much of his time should be given up to the business of war, with the result that his functions as the head of his household were much neglected. During one of these prolonged periods of absence, his pa at Porirua was visited by a chief of the Ngati-Ira (a branch of the Ngati-Kahungunu) tribe, named Kekerengu. According to tradition, this Kekerengu was a man of remarkable beauty of figure and grace of deportment. Tall and stalwart of frame, easy of carriage, and engaging in manner, his personal charm was still further enhanced in Maori estimation by a particularly artistic moko, or tattoo decoration. The introduction of this social lion into Rangihaeata's family circle was the cause of all the trouble. Kekerengu had so insinuated himself into the affections of the warrior's wives, that when Rangihaeata returned from the wars, the breath of scandal was busy with the proceedings of his family circle during his absence. The anger of the chief, on learning what had occurred, knew no bounds. Forthwith he sent the fiery cross from pa to pa, and in a short space of time a force sufficient for his purpose was enrolled. Te Rauparaha, to whom the scent of battle was sweet, at once espoused the cause of his injured relative, and together they set out in search of the destroyer of Te Rangihaeata's domestic happiness.

Kekerengu knew that, as the result of his indiscreet conduct, retribution would in some form follow him; but, in order to delay the evil day, he judiciously took to his canoe, and with a few of his followers crossed the Strait and sought refuge amongst the Ngai-Tahu of Kaikoura.[85 - Canon Stack would seem to imply that Kaikoura and Omihi were one and the same place; but from a petition presented to the House of Representatives in 1869 by the Ngai-Tahu tribe, it seems clear that they were separate places, and that their destruction took place at different times. Omihi is about 15 miles south of Kaikoura, near the Conway River, but the battle took place on the hills near the valley which leads down to the Waipara.] Thither Te Rauparaha tracked him; but the inhabitants of the pa were not to be taken by surprise a second time. Knowing that they were no match for the force they saw approaching, they at once abandoned their settlement and flew down the coast, through the Amuri, towards Kaiapoi. But this escapade was not to stand between the Ngati-Toa and their revenge. When they arrived and found the pa empty, they at once decided to go in pursuit. The march was swift and forced, and the invaders soon fell in with the fugitives, as they were camped at the Omihi stream. Here the unhappy wretches were attacked and routed with great slaughter, the few who escaped death or capture flying in precipitate haste into the bush, through which they made their way to the minor settlements further south. Kekerengu's guilt[86 - Some accounts make it appear that Kekerengu was killed by a wandering band of Ngai-Tahu after he landed on the Middle Island, and that, although he had greatly offended Te Rangihaeata by his impropriety, it was really to avenge his death and not to punish him that this raid was made upon Kaikoura and Omihi. But these are variations in tradition that we can scarcely hope to reconcile at this date.] was now expiated in his own blood and that of his hosts, and therefore Ngati-Toa might have returned to their homes fully satisfied with the results of their expedition. But the opportunity was so favourable for carrying out the long-cherished design of attacking Kaiapoi, that Te Pehi strenuously counselled going on. Te Rauparaha, it is said, was seized by some dark foreboding that Fate was trifling with him, and endeavoured to argue his lieutenant out of his warlike enthusiasm, but without avail. Te Pehi was bent upon storming Kaiapoi, and for once Te Rauparaha allowed himself to be overruled by his less cautious comrade. To facilitate the movements of the war party, which numbered about one hundred men, all encumbrances in the shape of prisoners were left in charge of a detachment at Omihi, and the canoes, which had been brought round from Kaikoura, were manned and taken as far down the coast as the Waipara River. There the force disembarked, and hauling the canoes beyond the reach of the tide, pushed on across the plains towards the southern stronghold.

Kaiapoi was one of the oldest of the Ngai-Tahu pas, as it was admittedly one of their strongest fortresses. It had been built by Tu Rakautahi in 1700 A.D., at the close of the thirty years' war, which had resulted in the expulsion and the almost total annihilation of the Ngati-Mamoe people. Its position had been selected with some strategic skill, for it stood on a narrow tongue of land about five acres in extent, which ran out into the Tairutu lagoon, and was surrounded on three sides by the dark waters of that extensive swamp, which stretched for several miles to the north and the south. On the landward side it was protected by a wide and deep ditch, which in peaceful times was bridged over, while its double row of palisades, erected upon massive earthworks and surmounted by curiously carved figures representing gods and ancestors, rendered it so impregnable in the popular estimation that it was sometimes compared to "the inaccessible cliff of God," which none had dared to scale. The internal arrangements were in keeping with the importance of the pa as the social and military centre of the tribe. Its population was numerous, wealthy, and distinctly aristocratic, and therefore the domains of the rangatiras and the commonalty were well defined. The dwellings of the chiefs were large and commodious structures, "ornamented inside and out with carving and scroll work." There were storehouses for the man physical, shrines for the man spiritual, playing grounds for old and young, and a burial-place for both when their earthly sojourn was over. The commerce of the pa was conducted through three gates, two of which, Kaitangata and Hiaka-rere, faced the deep moat, and the third, Huirapa, the lagoon on the western side, being connected with the opposite shore by a light wooden footway. But with all its vaunted strength, the pa had, according to critics, a fatal weakness, in that, if subjected to a close investment, it was liable to have its food supply cut off owing to its semi-insularity. Its builder had been twitted with this supposed defect when he determined upon the site of his stronghold, and he silenced his critics more by his ready wit than by the soundness of his military judgment. For he said "Kai" must be "poi," or food must be swung to the spot. "Potted birds from the forests of Kaikoura, fish and mutton birds from the south, kiore and weka from the plains and the mountain ranges"; and so down through the century or more which had passed since then it had been an essential part of the policy of those in authority at the pa to see that its commissariat was not neglected, and that its whatas were always full against the day when its gates might have to be barred to a troublesome enemy.[87 - Kaiapoi is a popular abbreviation of the old name – Kaiapohia, which signifies "food gathered up in handfuls" or "a food depôt," but Kaiapohia was seldom used except in formal speeches or in poetical compositions. The name originated in the incident related in the text, and the place became in reality a food depôt, because, owing to its peculiar situation, large quantities of food, particularly kumaras, were raised every year, not only for local consumption, but for the purposes of exchange with other branches of the tribe which possessed abundance of particular kinds of provisions which could not be procured at Kaiapoi.]

Such was the place which, in the opening months of 1829, the northern force marched to assault; but they had sadly misjudged the position if they imagined that they could take it by surprise. Ngai-Tahu had warning enough to enable them to gather their people within the palisades, to cut away their bridges, and to stand upon the alert at all the most vulnerable points. When, therefore, Te Rauparaha arrived under the walls of the pa, he adopted the most diplomatic course open to him, and made a virtue of necessity by feigning that he had come only with the most peaceful intent. His first care was to select a suitable site for his camp; he fixed it upon the south-western side of the lagoon, and there calmly sat down to await developments. Nor had he long to wait. Tamaiharanui, the high priest and leading chief of the Ngai-Tahu tribe, accompanied by a native named Hakitara, proceeded under commission from the people in the pa to inquire the purpose of so unexpected a visit. Hakitara was a Nga-Puhi native, having come originally from the northern portion of the Auckland Province. When Te Rauparaha had exchanged salutations with him and the venerable Tamaiharanui, he proceeded to furnish the explanation which they had come to seek. In the course of his oration he recited a tau, or war song, the idiom of which was more apparent to the Nga-Puhi than to his companion, who was less learned in northern lore. This battle chant conveyed a message to Hakitara which was sinister and disturbing. The protestations of Te Rauparaha were most ardent in the direction of peace, and his declarations full of the promise of friendship; but the words of his song had been so suspiciously indicative of evil intent, that Hakitara felt it incumbent upon him to advise the immediate return of Tamaiharanui to the pa, while he himself remained in the Ngati-Toa camp to pick up what scraps of useful information might drop from the lips of incautious retainers. By dint of sedulous inquiry, particularly amongst the slaves, he gleaned enough to stimulate his suspicions, which were more than confirmed when he heard that the northerners had desecrated a newly made grave which they had passed on the march to the pa. Such an outrage to the dead of Ngai-Tahu was not the act of friends; and now the living witnesses of Te Rauparaha's hostility began to pour into Kaiapoi, viz., the fugitives who had escaped from the slaughter at Omihi. For days they had wandered in the bush and in the by-paths of the open lands, hoping to evade the clutch of their pursuers; and when they arrived with their tale of terror, something more than fair words were needed to convince the inhabitants of the semi-beleaguered pa that Ngati-Toa had come so far south on a mission of peaceful commerce, and not of resentful war. Te Rauparaha, with his usual clarity of vision, saw the predicament in which the inopportune arrival of the fugitives had placed him, and promptly determined upon a desperate expedient, which, he hoped, would allay the dark suspicion which he hourly saw growing up around him, and which, if unchecked, would assuredly frustrate his enterprise. Not only did he feel it necessary to reiterate his assurances that nothing but a desire to trade for greenstone had brought him to Kaiapoi, but he did more. With a recklessness which only a critical situation could justify, he permitted his principal lieutenants – a liberty hitherto denied them – to freely enter the enemy's pa, and carry on, with well-simulated earnestness, negotiations for the exchange of greenstone for their own ancient fire-arms and doubtful powder.

Amongst the first of the Ngati-Toa chiefs to avail himself of this permission was Te Pehi,[88 - Tamihana te Rauparaha would lead us to suppose that his father was averse to this course, and was again overpersuaded by Te Pehi's impetuosity. He makes him say to Te Pehi, "Be cautious in going into the pa, lest you be killed. I have had an evil omen: mine was an evil dream last night," But what, says Tamihana, was the good of such advice to a man whose spirit had gone to death?] who, it will be remembered, had, with fatal enthusiasm, inspired the raid, and urged it upon an unwilling leader. Together with Pokaitara, Te Aratangata, Te Kohua, Te Hua Piko, and several other chiefs equally renowned in Ngati-Toa warfare, Te Pehi continued to visit and revisit the pa for several days, carrying on a brisk trade, and incidentally noting the interior arrangements of the fortress, its people, and the chances of its speedy capture. Meanwhile, the Ngai-Tahu agent in Te Rauparaha's camp was not idle, and not the least of Hakitara's successes was the fact that he had been able to ingratiate himself into the good opinion of Te Rauparaha. That astute personage, usually so keen a judge of character, was completely deceived by the clever Nga-Puhi, whom he had hopes of weaning from the Ngai-Tahu cause. To this end he presented him with one of the most attractive of his slaves, a lady named Te Aka, whose charms it was hoped would prove sufficiently strong to draw the Nga-Puhi warrior back to the north. But Te Rauparaha's cold calculations were soon set at naught by the warmth of a human heart. Te Aka was not a free woman. She was a slave, whose pa and whose people had been overrun and destroyed by the ruthless invader, and within her breast there burned the undying desire and hope for revenge. Therefore, when she and Hakitara came to understand each other, there was soon a joint wit at work to worst the man who fondly believed that the human passions were being harnessed to his political schemes. So confident was he that he would win Hakitara over, that he neglected even ordinary prudence in discussing his plans within his hearing. To such excess was this overconfidence carried, that one night he called his chiefs together to a council of war, which was held under the eaves of the whare which Hakitara occupied, where every word could be heard by the occupants. Here the whole scheme of the capture of Kaiapoi was discussed and decided upon; and so hopeful was Te Rauparaha of success, that he boastingly remarked to Te Rangihaeata, "Soon we shall have our pa." "Beware of the Nga-Puhi man," was Rangihaeata's whispered advice; but Rauparaha dismissed the warning by an impatient gesture and a petulant remark that nothing was to be feared from that quarter. Hakitara had, however, been greedily listening to all that had passed, and when the council broke up he was in possession of every detail of the tactics by which the pa was to be assaulted on the morrow.

As might be surmised, sleep came but fitfully to the faithful Hakitara that night, and just as the first silver ray of dawn was breaking in the east, he rose, and, wrapping himself in a large dog-skin mat, crept out of the hut into the grey morning, determined to warn his friends in the pa, if fortune did not desert him. The Maori system of warfare, though quaint in many respects, was practical enough to include the posting of sentries round the camps; and, even if they were not invariably vigilant, there was always the risk that one might happen to be watchful at an awkward moment. This fear haunted Hakitara as, with beating heart, he wormed his way between the huts and through the tufts of waving tussock grass. Tradition records that he was successful in eluding a direct challenge; and when he was well beyond the circuit of the sentries, he rose to his feet and ran with all his speed to the nearest gate of the pa. The gate was instantly opened to him, and in a hurried whisper he bade the keeper summon the chiefs to a conference in a neighbouring house. When the warriors were assembled, he disclosed to them in hot, hurried words all that he knew of Ngati-Toa's intentions, which, in remembrance of a treaty negotiated only the previous day, could be regarded in no other light than as a shameless breach of faith. The council decided that they would not wait for the blow to fall upon them from outside, but would forestall the northerners in their own methods. They knew that some of the Ngati-Toa chiefs would, in keeping with the custom of the past few days, visit them again for the purpose of trade; and they were hopeful that, by a special effort, they might be able to induce the great Te Rauparaha himself to come within the gates. It was agreed that the chiefs, once within the walls, should be attacked and killed, and that then a sortie should be made upon the unsuspecting camp outside. Scarcely had this decision been arrived at, when Te Pehi and several of his fellow-chiefs entered the pa and began to mix with the populace, who were now busy preparing for the business of the day, and were in total ignorance of the decision of their leaders or the circumstances which had dictated it. There was thus no change in the demeanour of the people to excite uneasiness in the minds of Te Pehi and his friends. They, on the other hand, knowing that their plans were nearing fruition, and believing that the pa was virtually in the hollow of their hands, adopted a more insolent air, and were at no pains to conceal the contempt with which they regarded the rights of Ngai-Tahu property. Thus, Te Pehi boldly entered one of the houses, and seizing a large block of greenstone, attached to it a rope of flax, and proceeded to drag it towards the Hiaka-rere gate, evidently intending to carry it into the northern camp.

The pa was now alive with men and women, for the day was well on, and the audacious cupidity of Te Pehi aroused both astonishment and anger. As he strode towards the gate, he had to pass a group of excited onlookers sitting in the marae, or open space which served the purpose of a sports ground. One of these, Moimoi, rose and challenged Te Pehi's right to purloin his greenstone in that unceremonious fashion. With scorn unspeakable, Te Pehi turned upon his interrogator, and in tones of bitter contempt inquired by what right he, a menial, dared to call in question the actions of a chief. "You of the crooked tattoo, what use would your ugly head be to me if I were to carry it back with me to Kapiti? It would be worth nothing towards the purchase of a musket. But," said he, turning to a stalwart native standing near by, "here is a man whose head would be worth the taking, but you with the worthless head, how dare you cavil at the actions of the great Te Pehi?" The slighting reference to the inartistic facial decoration of Moimoi was intended to be particularly insulting, for every native was wont to pride himself upon the completeness of his moko, and Te Pehi had good reason to regard himself as something of an authority upon this branch of Maori art, for his own tattoo was more than usually elaborate. But the most alarming portion of his taunt was his thinly-veiled reference to the sale of Moimoi's head. Every one knew that at this period a considerable traffic had sprung up in native heads,[89 - At first only the heads of chiefs were sold, as they were the most perfectly tattooed, but when chiefs' heads became scarce, the native mind conceived the idea of tattooing the heads of the slaves and selling them – the slave being killed as soon as his head was ready for the market. Sometimes the slave was audacious enough to run away just as he was attaining a commercial value, and the indignation of one merchant who had just sustained such a loss is humorously described in Manning's Old New Zealand.] which were preserved by a crude process and traded away to Europeans in exchange for muskets. Te Pehi's reference to the matter could, then, only be taken as an indication that during his visits to the pa he had lent his eye to business, and, in this connection, business meant the assault and sacking of the fortress. The full force of this indiscreet admission had flashed upon the astonished listeners; but, before they could reply, their attention was diverted from the arrogance of Te Pehi by another incident which had occurred at the Hiaka-rere gate. Pokaitara, one of Te Rauparaha's most intrepid lieutenants, had approached this entrance, and was seeking admission to the pa, which was being denied him. Observing who the visitor was, Rongotara, the superior resident chief of Kaiapoi, ordered the keeper of the gate to admit him, exclaiming as he did so, "Welcome my younger brother's lord," a reference to the fact that Rongotara's brother had been made a prisoner at Omihi by Pokaitara, and was at that moment in his keeping. The gate was immediately thrown open; but the Ngati-Toa had no sooner bent his head beneath the portal than Rongotara dealt him a crushing blow with his miti, or stone club, which he was carrying in his hand, and the lifeless body fell with a heavy thud to the ground.

It was this opening episode in the Ngai-Tahu policy of checkmate which had suddenly diverted attention from Te Pehi. But the incident had been as visible to him as to those around him, and the moment he saw it, the critical nature of his own position dawned upon him, and, taking no further thought of the greenstone, he sprang with the agility of a tiger towards the south-western angle of the palisading, and commenced to scramble up the wall by clutching the vines which bound the upright posts together. His plunge for safety would probably have proved successful – for several shots which were fired at him flew wide of the mark – had not Tangatahara, a Ngai-Tahu warrior of great strength and personal courage, closed with him, and, pulling him to the ground, despatched him with a blow from his tomahawk.[90 - In an account of this incident given by a Captain Briggs to the newspaper Tasmanian, in 1831, he states that a European named Smith, who had been left at Kaiapoi by a Captain Wiseman, for the purpose of trade, attempted to save Te Pehi's life, and was himself killed for his interference. If this was so, the Ngai-Tahu accounts are discreetly silent on the point; but Briggs infers that Te Rauparaha and Te Hiko made it one of the arguments by which they sought to convince him that he ought to assist them to capture Tamaiharanui, and so revenge the death of his countryman.] The other northern chiefs who were in the pa were apprised of the mêlée which was proceeding by the sound of the fire-arms discharged against Te Pehi, and were not slow to grasp the situation. Realising that they had been trapped, they knew that it would be of little use attempting to escape by the regular gateways, which were all securely guarded; and, with one exception, those who were free to do so flew to the walls, hoping to scale them, and so get safely to their camp. But they were for the most part either overpowered by numbers and tomahawked on the spot, or were shot while scrambling up the aka vines. The exception referred to was Te Aratangata, who happened to be at the northern end of the pa, and was at this juncture bargaining to secure a famous greenstone mere called by the Ngai-Tahu people "Te Rau-hikihiki." The moment he saw what was happening, he dashed toward the gate Huirapa, hoping to force his way past the guard, who, he supposed, could offer but feeble resistance to his own exceptional strength, courage, and skill.

There is every reason to believe that Rongotara rather precipitated matters by killing Pokaitara at the gate, as it had been decided that an attempt should first be made to induce the great Te Rauparaha himself to enter the pa, in the hope of including him in the holocaust. Still, the plans of the Kaiapoi chiefs were sufficiently mature to meet the emergency when it suddenly arose; and so Te Aratangata discovered to his alarm that, although he was at the further end of the pa from that at which Te Pehi had been attacked, he was just as closely surrounded by enemies. When he started for the gate, he had virtually to fight every inch of the way. He had little difficulty in disposing of the first few who intercepted his path; but, as he drew nearer to the gate, his assailants increased, and before he had struggled on many yards he was attacked by over twenty persons armed with all manner of weapons. Against those who ventured at close quarters he valiantly defended himself with his mere, all the time pressing on towards the gate. A gun-shot wound temporarily checked his onward course, and he was soon further handicapped by several spear-thrusts, which left the spears dangling in the fleshy parts of his body, and from which he found it impossible to disengage himself, pressed as he was on every side. These difficulties perceptibly weakened his defence, but he was still able to fight on, keeping his opponents at bay by swift and desperate blows with his mere, which, up to this moment, had accounted for all who had ventured within his reach. The brave Ngati-Toa had now reached within a few paces of the gate, and may have even yet had dreams of escape, when the crowning disaster came in the breaking of his mere. A shot, which had been intended for his body, struck the greenstone blade, and shattered the faithful weapon into a hundred fragments, leaving only the butt in Aratangata's hand. Now utterly defenceless, weakened by his wounds, and hampered by the dragging spears, the undaunted chief turned upon his assailants, and, with his last strength, grappled with those who came within his reach. The unequal struggle could not, however, be long maintained. Emboldened by his helpless condition, his pursuers pressed in upon him with angry tumult, and he was borne to the ground by Te Koreke, who finished the deadly work with a succession of blows with his tomahawk upon the prostrate warrior's head and neck.

So fell Te Aratangata, and so fell the flower of the Ngati-Toa tribe that day. In all, eight great chiefs[91 - The names of the chiefs who were killed on this fatal day were Te Pehi, Te Pokaitara, Te Rangikatuta, Te Ruatahi, Te Hua-piko, Te Kohi, Te Aratangata, and Te Rohua. Tamihana te Rauparaha states that in all some twenty of his father's people were killed, but that a number were successful in escaping by clambering over the palisades.] were killed, who, by their heroism on the field and their sagacity in council, had materially aided Te Rauparaha in all his great achievements. They had added brilliancy to his battles, lustre to his victories, and had lent a wisdom to his administration, whereby the fruits of his enterprise had not been wasted by internecine strife. So dire a tragedy as the death of the princes of his tribe was a great blow to Te Rauparaha. But it is doubtful whether the sacrifice of so much mental and physical fibre was more keenly felt by the Ngati-Toa chief than the loss of prestige and damage to his reputation, which he might reasonably apprehend from his being outwitted at his own game, and that, too, by a people whom he had hitherto despised as opponents. That they would turn upon him in what he chose to regard as an unprovoked attack was something which was not reckoned upon in his philosophy, for he had trusted to his blandishments to soothe away their suspicions, or to his great name and reputation to awe them into submission. And when the blow fell, and he saw his patiently laid plans tumbling about his ears, he received the result with mingled feelings of surprise, indignation, and something akin to dismay. In this frame of mind he deemed it expedient to anticipate any further unexpected eventualities by withdrawing his force and making good his retreat with as little delay as possible. Consequently his camp was at once broken up, and the little army made its dejected way across the plain to Double Corner, where the canoes had been left, and next day Te Rauparaha set sail for Omihi and Kapiti, having, as the result of his first raid upon Kaiapoi,[92 - The Rev. Canon Stack considers that this event occurred either late in 1828 or early in 1829.] added neither greenstone to his treasure nor glory to his reputation as a warrior.

For the better part of two years Te Rauparaha nursed his wrath against Ngai-Tahu, and spent the intervening time in devising schemes whereby he might secure a vengeance commensurate with the disgrace of his repulse and the death of his well-loved friends. One thing on which he had fully determined was that Ngai-Tahu should pay for their temerity with the purest of their blood, for he would take no plebeian in payment for so royal a soul as Te Pehi. His schemes were therefore directed against the life of Tamaiharanui,[93 - It is doubtful whether Tamaiharanui took any part in the killing of Te Pehi and his comrades, but that would not relieve him of his liability to be killed in return, as the whole tribe was responsible for the acts of every member of it.] who has already been described as the embodiment of spiritual and temporal power in the southern tribe. He was the hereditary representative of all that stood for nobility amongst the sons of Tahu. His person was regarded as so sacred that the common people scarcely dared to look upon his face. He could only be addressed by his fellow-chiefs with the greatest deference and in the most reverential language; and if, while passing through the congested streets of a village, his shadow should fall upon a whata or a rua, the storehouse and its contents would be immediately destroyed, to prevent the sacrilege of a tribesman consuming food upon which even the shade of so sacred a personage had lighted. Indeed, so sanctified and ceremonious an individual was he, that his presence was sometimes oppressive to those who were not accustomed to live in an atmosphere of ritual; for the slightest disregard of what was due to one so endowed with the spirit of the gods might involve them at any moment in the loss of possessions, and even of life.