[20]: This is word for word a literal translation of the speech of the atua wera to Heke's men. He was, however, supposed only to speak the words of the Ngakahi by whom he was at the moment inspired.
[21]: That the sailors were quite a different hapu, though belonging to the iwi of England, and in no way "related" to the soldiers, I have heard often stated by the natives, as well as by the narrator of this story. Neither will we wonder at their having jumped at this conclusion, after having compared "Jack," let loose for a run on shore, with the orderly soldiers. I will here take occasion to state that I shall not hold myself accountable for the many mistakes and misapprehensions of my old friend the Ngapuhi chief, when he speaks of us, our manners, customs, and motives of action; when he merely recounts the events and incidents of the war, he is to be fully depended on, being both correct and minutely particular in his relation, after the native manner of telling a story, to omit nothing. I have had, indeed, to leave out a whole volume of minute particulars, such as this for instance: where a pakeha would simply say, "we started in the morning after breakfast," &c., the native would say, "in the morning the ovens were heated, and the food was put in and covered up; when it was cooked it was taken out, and we eat it, and finished eating, then we got up and started," &c. In the course of the narration I have translated, I have had to listen to the above formula about fifty times; the lighting of a pipe and the smoking it, or the seeing a wild pig (describing size and colour, &c.), is never omitted, no matter if it is five seconds before commencing a battle. This is the true native way of telling a story, and it is even now a wonder to them to see how soon a European tells the story of a journey, or voyage, or any event whatever. If a native goes on a journey of three days' duration, during which nothing whatever of any consequence may have occurred, it will take him at least one whole day to tell all about it, and he is greatly annoyed at the impatient pakeha who wants to get the upshot of the whole story by impertinently saying, "Did you get what you went for?" To tell that too soon would be out of all rule; every foot of the way must be gone over with every incident, however trivial, before the end is arrived at. They are beginning now to find that in talking to Europeans they must leave out one half at least of a story to save time, but the old men can't help making the most of a chance of talking. To cut a story short seems to them a waste of words by not speaking them, while we think it a decided waste of words to speak them. In old times the natives had so few subjects for conversation that they made the most of what they had, which accounts for their verbosity in trifling matters.
[22]: Heke's pa at the lake, the first we ever attacked, was the weakest ever built by the natives in the war. Had it not been for Kawiti's appearance just at the moment the storming party were about to advance, and thus making a diversion, it would most certainly have been taken, and as certain all its defenders killed or taken prisoners; for if the soldiers had entered then, the friendly natives, who were outside in great numbers, would have prevented any escaping. As it turned out, however, the place was not taken, and this gave the natives courage to continue the war, in the course of which they acquired so much confidence, that now they think less of fighting Europeans, and are less afraid of them, than of their own countrymen.
[23]: "E aha te kai e pahure i aia." My translation is not very literal; a literal translation would not give the sense to the reader not acquainted with the Maori language; my free translation gives it exactly.
[24]: The natives often call a line or column of men a fish, and this term is just as well understood as our "column," "company," "battalion," &c. I will here say that though the native language is, as might be supposed, extremely deficient in terms of art or science in general, yet it is quite copious in terms relating to the art of war. There is a Maori word for almost every infantry movement and formation. I have also been very much surprised to find that a native can, in terms well understood, and without any hesitation, give a description of a fortification of a very complicated and scientific kind, having set technical terms for every part of the whole—"curtain, bastion, trench, hollow way, traverse, outworks, citadel," &c. &c., being all well-known Maori words, which every boy knows the full meaning of.
[25]: In allusion to the fact of the war party having come by water.
[26]: The natives when speaking to each other seldom mention their chief except as "our friend," or, if he be an old man, as "our leader." Speaking to Europeans, however, they often say our rangatira, that having become the only word in use among the Europeans to signify the chief of a tribe, though it may also mean many other ranks, according as it is applied.
[27]: That weakness is crime with the natives is a fact, and in consequence the disgrace of being taken prisoner of war degrades a native as much as with us it would degrade a man to be convicted of felony. I have heard two natives quarrelling when one called the other "slave," because his great-grandfather had been once made prisoner of war. The other could not deny the traditional fact, and looked amazingly chop-fallen. He, however, tried to soften the blow by stating that even if his ancestor had been made prisoner, it was by a section of his own tribe, and consequently by his own relations he was defeated. Thus endeavouring to make a "family affair" of it.
[28]: Poor Hauraki was no doubt delirious from the effects of his wound, and no doubt thought he saw the vision he recounted when his people found him.
[29]: One of the ancestors of Hauraki, according to a tradition of the Rarawa, hearing, even in the Reinga (the Maori Hades), of the warlike renown of one of his sons, became jealous of his fame, and returned to this world. Emerging from amongst the waves at Ahipara, on the west coast, where his son lived, he challenged him to single combat. At the first onset the son had the worst. Then the father said, "Had you been equal to your ancestors I would have remained here as your companion in arms; but you are degenerate and a mere man. I return to the Reinga, to be with the heroes of the olden time." He then disappeared in the waves.