When a "King's ship" comes to anchor, the chiefs (with all the glee of children going to a fair) collect together their wives, children, and friends, and pay a visit to the "fighting ships," to see King George's warriors (as they call them): when they come alongside they are kept off by an armed sentry; and, after a long parley, they are informed the chief may come, but his family and friends must not. In this case, the natives generally spit at the vessel, and, uttering execrations on their inhospitality, return on shore.
One of the savage chieftains who accompanied us to the vessel in question, on our way back remarked, "that the white warriors were afraid of admitting them, though they were unarmed and but a few; while the warriors in the ships were many, and armed with their great guns."
Living entirely amongst these people so long as I had done, I felt the absurdity of such conduct, and the folly of treating them so harshly. If ever individuals are so situated as to need either the esteem or the confidence of savages, they must bear with their prying and childish curiosity, and not be afraid of treating them too kindly; by this means they become the quietest and gentlest creatures in the world; but, if treated with contumely, and their wives and families repulsed from your ship, they become dangerous, vindictive, and cruel neighbours, as many a dreadful deed which has taken place in this vicinity will fully prove.
CHAPTER XXXVII
THE WHALERS AND THE MISSIONARIES
The South Sea whalers are the ships the natives are the most anxious to see on their coasts; and it is the crews of those vessels who have, in a manner, civilised these hardy islanders. Captain Gardiner, of the Marianne (the vessel now in the harbour), is the oldest person in that trade; and he informed me, that not longer than twenty years back scarcely any vessel would dare to touch at New Zealand; and when, from particular circumstances, they were obliged so to do, they kept their boarding-nettings up, and kept a strict guard night and day: their fears arose from a want of knowledge of the disposition of the people. The vessels frequenting the island use no precautions now: hundreds of natives are permitted to crowd on board each ship; and no accident has ever occurred from this mode of treatment. But when a ship of war arrives here for the first time, the precautions taken are, to arm the row-guard with cutlasses and pistols, and to harass the crew with constant watching, while the only enemy that exists is in their own imaginations. To the courage and enterprise of the commanders of whalers all credit is due for working the rapid change in these once bloody-minded savages, and forming safe and commodious harbours for their vessels to refit in: this have they done in a part of the world lately looked upon with horror. What credit soever the missionaries may take to themselves, or try to make their supporters in England believe, every man who has visited this place, and will speak his mind freely and disinterestedly, must acknowledge they have had no share in bringing about this change of character; but, on the contrary, they have done all that in them lay to injure the reputation of the whaler in the estimation of the natives. Hitherto they have not succeeded: their want of hospitality and kindness to their own countrymen raises a strong dislike to them in the minds of these unsophisticated people. According to their simple notions of right and wrong, they think the want of hospitality an unpardonable offence, and that the counsel or advice of a man who shuts his door against his neighbour is not worthy of being attended to.
I will give the reader one more anecdote of these men, who are sent out to set an example of the beauty of the Christian faith to the unenlightened heathens. A few weeks since, the festival of Christmas took place; and Englishmen, in whatever part of the world they chance to be, make a point of assembling together on that day, our recollections then being associated with "home" and our families, uniting to spend that day in mutual congratulations and wishes for happiness. For some time previous to its arrival, the captains of the two whalers and myself had been deliberating where we should spend this social day; and it was finally settled that we should cross the bay to Te Puna, a beautiful and romantic spot, the residence of an intelligent chief, called Warri Pork, and an Englishman, named Hanson. Near this was a church missionary establishment; and at this Englishman's house we determined we would spend the day. The captains of the two whalers then in the harbour joined our party; and as everyone contributed his share towards our picnic feast, the joint stock made altogether a respectable appearance.
We proceeded to Te Puna in two whaleboats: it was a most delightful trip, the scenery being strikingly beautiful. The village of Ranghe Hue, belonging to Warri Pork, is situated on the summit of an immense and abrupt hill: the huts belonging to the savages appeared, in many places, as though they were overhanging the sea, the height being crowned with a mighty pah. At the bottom of this hill, and in a beautiful valley, the cottages of the missionaries are situated, complete pictures of English comfort, content, and prosperity; they are close to a bright sandy beach: a beautiful green slope lies in their rear, and a clear and never-failing stream of water runs by the side of their enclosures. As the boats approached this lovely spot, I was in an ecstasy of delight: such a happy mixture of savage and civilised life I had never seen before; and when I observed the white smoke curling out of the chimneys of my countrymen, I anticipated the joyful surprise, the hearty welcome, the smiling faces, and old Christmas compliments that were going to take place, and the great pleasure it would give our secluded countrymen to meet us, in these distant regions, at this happy season, and talk of our relatives and friends in England.