My romantic notions were soon crushed; our landing gave no pleasure to these secluded Englishmen: they gave us no welcome; but, as our boats approached the shore, they walked away to their own dwellings, closed their gates and doors after them, and gazed at us through their windows; and during three days that we passed in a hut quite near them, they never exchanged one word with any of the party. Thus foiled in our hopes of spending a social day with our compatriots, after our dinner was over we sent materials for making a bowl of punch up the hill to the chiefs, and spent the remainder of the day surrounded by generous savages, who were delighted with our company, and who did everything in their power to make us comfortable. In the course of the afternoon two of the mission came up to preach; but the savages were so angry with them for not showing more kindness to their own countrymen, that none would listen to them.
I have visited many of the Roman Catholic missionary establishments; their priests adopt quite a different line of conduct: they are cheerful and kind to the savage pagan, and polite and attentive to their European brethren; they have gained the esteem of those they have been sent to convert; they have introduced their own language amongst them, which enables them to have intercourse with strangers; and, however we may differ in some tenets of religious belief, we must acknowledge the success of their mission. They have brought nearly the whole of the Indian population in South America into the bosom of their church; and their converts form the greater part of the people. Notwithstanding the numerous church and sectarian missionaries sent from England, I never met with one Indian converted by them. I have attended mass in an Indian village; a native priest performed the ceremony, and the whole congregation (except myself) were of his cast and complexion: and, it is worthy of remark, that in Peru, and some of the most populous provinces, a pagan is scarcely to be found.
CHAPTER XXXVIII
THREATENED WAR
We now heard that Tetoro (one of the most powerful chiefs of this part of the island) had taken offence, and had sent a defiance to King George, saying he intended coming to seek revenge, accompanied by a strong body of warriors; and the "herald" who brought this proclamation informed us that the English settlers were to be attacked and plundered also.
We had every reason to fear this might prove a more calamitous affair than any we had yet experienced; as George immediately collected all his family and dependents, and took his departure for the Kawakawa river (the residence of De Kookie, the chief who had come to his assistance against Hongi's attack), leaving behind only a few slaves. Thus a second time were we left to our own resources on Kororarika Beach. George and his followers were too much scattered: some were trading with the ships, others were distributed in various districts, attending to their agricultural pursuits. Thus separated, each might become an easy prey to any of the powerful chiefs; but, were they united, they would be too strong for any of the tribes: unfortunately the hope of gain made them risk so great a danger. At this period, too, there was not a single vessel in the bay to protect us. The known partiality of all the tribes for Europeans was the only consolation we had; and we endeavoured to cheer each other with this hope, under what in reality might be considered very appalling circumstances.
After enduring this state of suspense and anxiety for several days, and no enemy appearing, we determined to pay a visit to the camp of the combined army of our friends, which would, at the same time, gratify our own curiosity, and give them a degree of satisfaction; as it would prove to them that we were not afraid of venturing amongst them, even in times of danger. We accordingly prepared the whaleboats to proceed up the Kawakawa river; and, as I had never been there before, the present afforded an excellent opportunity for exploring that picturesque spot.
At the top of the Bay of Islands, two rivers disembogue, the Wye Catte and the Kawakawa: they are both small but beautiful streams. It was early in the morning when we started: the dewy mist rose from the unruffled bosom of the river like the gradual lifting up of a curtain, and, at length, displayed its lofty sides, covered with immense trees, the verdure extending to the very edge of the water. All was quiet, beautiful, and serene; the only sounds which broke the calm were the wild notes of the tui (or New Zealand blackbird), the splashing of our own oars, or the occasional flight of a wild duck (or shag), disturbed by our approach.