The ship had arrived off New Zealand, and while at anchor the following events occurred:—“This morning our little vessel was surrounded with canoes, containing several hundreds of the natives, of both sexes, who presently climbed up, and crowded it so much that we were obliged to put a bar across the quarter-deck, and tabu it from intrusion. The commerce in various articles, on both sides, went on pretty well for some time, till one provoking circumstance after another occurred, which had nearly led to the seizure of the ship and the loss of our lives.
“In the confusion occasioned by the great throng in so narrow a space, the natives began to exercise their pilfering tricks, opportunities for which are seldom permitted to slip away unimproved. Suddenly the cook cried out, ‘They have stolen this thing;’ but scarcely had he named the thing (some kitchen article), when he called out again, ‘They have stolen the beef out of the pot!’ and then a third time, ‘They have stolen my cooking pan!’ Presently another voice bawled out from the forecastle, ‘Captain! they have broken open your trunk, and carried away your clothes!’
“Up to this time we had been in friendly intercourse with the chiefs, rubbing noses, and purchasing their personal ornaments and other curiosities, suspecting no mischief. But now, in the course of a few moments, without our perceiving the immediate reason, the whole scene was changed. We found afterward that the captain (Dibbs), on hearing of the audacious thefts above mentioned, had become angry, and while he was endeavoring, rather boisterously, to clear the deck of some of the intruders, one of them, a chief, on being jostled by him, fell over the ship’s side into the sea, between his own canoe and the vessel. This was seized instantaneously as the pretext for commencing hostilities. The women and children in the course of a few minutes had all disappeared, leaping overboard into their canoes, and taking with them the kakaous, or mantles, of the warriors. The latter, thus stripped for action, remained on deck; of which, before we were aware, they had taken complete possession; and forthwith made us their prisoners.
“Tremendous were the bawlings and screechings of the barbarians, while they stamped, and brandished their weapons, consisting principally of clubs and spears. One chief with his cookies (his slaves) had surrounded the captain, holding their spears at his breast and his sides, on the larboard quarter of the vessel. Mr. Tyerman, under guard of another band, stood on the starboard; and Mr. Bennet on the same side, but aft, toward the stern. Mr. Threlkeld and his little boy, not seven years old, were near Mr. Bennet not under direct manual grasp of the savages. The chief who, with his gang, had been trafficking with Mr. Bennet, now brought his huge tattooed visage near to Mr. B.’s, screaming, in tones the most odious and horrifying: ‘Tongata, New Zealandi, tongata kakino?—Tongata, New Zealandi, tongata kakino?’
“This he repeated as rapidly as lips, tongue, and throat could utter the words, which mean, ‘Man of New Zealand, is he bad man?—Man of New Zealand, a bad man?’ Happily Mr. Bennet understood the question (the New Zealand dialect much resembling the Tahitian): whereupon, though convinced that inevitable death was at hand, he answered, with as much composure as could be assumed, ‘Kaore kakino tongata New Zealandi, tongata kapai’ (‘Not bad; the New Zealander is a good man’); and so often as the other, with indescribable ferocity of aspect and sharpness of accent, asked the same question (which might be a hundred times), the same answer was returned.
“‘But,’ inquired Mr. Bennet, ‘why is all this uproar? Why cannot we still rub noses, and buy and sell, and barter, as before?’ At this moment a stout slave, belonging to the chief, stepped behind Mr. Bennet, and pinioned both his arms close to his sides. No effort was made to resist or elude the gigantic grasp, Mr. B. knowing that such would only accelerate the threatened destruction. Still, therefore, he maintained his calmness, and asked the chief the price of a neck ornament which the latter wore. Immediately another slave raised a large tree-felling axe (which, with others, had been brought to be sharpened by the ship’s company) over the head of the prisoner. This ruffian looked with demon-like eagerness and impatience toward his master for the signal to strike.
“And here it may be observed that our good countrymen can have no idea of the almost preternatural fury which savages can throw into their distorted countenances, and infuse into their deafening and appalling voices, when they are possessed by the legion-fiend of rage, cupidity, and revenge. Mr. Bennet persevered in keeping up conversation with the chief, saying, ‘We want to buy bruaa, kumera, ika, &c. (hogs, potatoes, fish), of you.’
“Just then he perceived a youth stepping on deck with a large fish in his hand. ‘What shall I give you for that fish?’—‘Why, so many fish-hooks.’—‘Well, then, put your hand into my pocket and take them.’ The fellow did so. ‘Now put the fish down there, on the binnacle, and bring some more, if you have any,’ said Mr. Bennet. At once the fish that he had just bought was brought round from behind and presented to him again for sale. He took no notice of the knavery, but demanded, ‘What shall I give you for that fish?’—‘So many hooks.’—‘Take them. Have you no other fish to sell?’ A third time the same fish was offered, and the same price in hooks required and given, or rather taken, by the vendor, out of his jacket pockets, which happened to be well stored with this currency for traffic. A fourth time Mr. Bennet asked, ‘Have you never another fish?’ At this the rogues could contain their scorn no longer, but burst into laughter, and cried, ‘We are cheating the foreigner!’ (‘Tangata ke!’) supposing that their customer was not aware how often they had caught him with the same bait.”
By this ingenious plan of pretending to be the dupe of the Maories, Mr. Bennet contrived to gain time, of which he knew that every minute was of the greatest importance, and at last he was rewarded for his courageous diplomacy by the arrival of a boat, in which was a friendly chief, who at once cleared the ship.
The reader will observe that at this time the New Zealanders had not abandoned the use of the spear as a weapon of war, though only twenty years afterward scarcely a spear could be found that was not intended as an emblem of hospitality instead of strife.