During the greater part of the morning the rain had been pouring down in torrents, and what with the swollen condition of the creeks, the slippery nature of the soil, and the starved condition of our horses, our prospects of ever reaching Ruakaka seemed to be hopeless. At last, about two o'clock in the afternoon, we hailed with delight a break in the forest, and we came suddenly into a hilly region, where the tall fern grew higher than our horses' heads. After travelling a considerable distance through this country, we mounted to the top of a high hill, when we beheld, 200 feet beneath us, a fine, open valley, sunk like a pit, as it were, in the heart of a mountainous region, where enormous forests stretched away as far as the eye could reach on every side. Right down the centre of the valley, as far as we could see, we could trace the winding course of the Manganui-a-te-Ao, marked by precipitous cliffs of grey rock, which rose perpendicularly from the waters of the river to a height of 300 feet, while above these, again, on the further side of the stream, were terraces of rounded hills, backed by conical mountains, which mounted, one above the other, to a height of 3000 or 4000 feet, covered from base to summits with a thick mantle of luxuriant vegetation. On the side where we had emerged from the forest the valley was bounded by round-topped, fern-clad hills and flat, terrace-like formations that descended, in the form of gigantic steps, into the plain below, where the whares and cultivations of the natives, stretching for miles along the course of the stream, appeared dotted about in the most picturesque way. Taken altogether, the whole place had a singularly wild appearance as we gazed upon it, and now that we could see everything from our point of vantage without being seen, we wondered what kind of a welcome we should meet with from the natives.
We led our horses down the steep, slippery track into the valley, and as we were now seen by some of the Maoris, there were loud shouts that pakehas had arrived, and the natives came out of the whares and awaited our approach in front of the wharepuni. We could see at a glance that the words of Te Wheu were correct, and that the natives, so far as we could discern by outward signs, were veritable Hauhaus, alike in dress and bearing, while both men and women had a singularly wild and even savage appearance when compared with all other tribes I had seen in different parts of the country. It was likewise clear that they did not welcome us at first with any demonstrations of cordiality, and upon Turner inquiring for the chief, they replied that he was away at a wild-pig hunt, and that we must wait till he came. The natives then squatted around us, and scanned us narrowly, while we looked on with an air of apparent indifference.
In the meanwhile a messenger had been despatched for the chief, whose name, we now learned, was Te Pareoterangi, and after a short delay he appeared before us, with half a dozen wild-looking natives, carrying a double-barrelled gun over his shoulder. He was a man below medium height, but of singularly massive build, broad-chested and broad-shouldered, with a well-formed head, and singularly well-moulded features. Indeed, his heavily-knit frame, intelligent air, and almost oriental cast of countenance made him stand out in marked contrast to the other natives, who were, for the most part, unlike the generality of their race, remarkable for their diminutive stature and ungainly appearance.
When Te Pareoterangi came up, he squatted down with a sullen air, without going through any form of salutation, and then, after a pause, asked us what we had come for, and upon Turner telling him that he had brought the pakeha, who was travelling for pleasure, a titter ran round the circle, for, if we did not look it, we felt half-starved, we were drenched to the skin, and covered from head to foot with mud, and the chief, evidently realizing all the unpleasant features of our position, naively remarked, "How can the pakeha travel for pleasure through such a forest as you have come?" At which an old tattooed savage observed, "Their horses are only rats; how did they get here? These pakehas have singular ways." This was said with a sinister smile from the old man, and in anything but a complimentary tone. Many other questions were put to us, and the parleying kept on, by fits and starts, for a good half-hour, during which time the natives displayed no token of friendship, the only manifestations we received in this respect being from the dogs and pigs, the latter even going so far as to scratch their backs against our legs.
RUAKAKA.
At last an old woman, who had been watching the proceedings keenly, and whose appearance reminded me of one of the witches in "Macbeth," suddenly rose, and stepping with an excited air into the middle of the circle, waved her bare right arm round her head, and shouted at the top of her voice, "Haeremai! Haeremai! Haeremai!"[53] And then turning to the natives, in an equally excited way, said, "The pakehas have been following up the rivers of great names, and have come to our homes; they are hungry, and we must give them food." The words of this weird dame, whom we afterwards found was the chieftainess Hinepareoterangi, and mother of the chief of the hapu, acted like magic upon the natives, who at once took charge of our horses, while the women hastened to prepare a meal, old Hinepareoterangi opening the feast by presenting us with some of the finest apples I had ever tasted.[54] In a short time we were invited into the wharepuni, and a big tin dish of potatoes and pork was set before us, the old chieftainess remarking, "You are now in a 'Tongariro country,' and must not look for such delicacies as bread." As we had only had two meals for the past two days, and those of the most visionary description, we found this repast most acceptable. The pork, which had been preserved by being rendered down in its own fat, was delicious, while the potatoes were of the finest kind.
Owing to the heavy rain and the flooded state of the Manganui-a-te-Ao, we were compelled to wait at Ruakaka for two days, during which time we visited many parts of the district. I found that the altitude of Ruakaka was 800 feet above the level of the sea, and it is worthy of remark, as showing the rapid fall of the country in this direction, that, in order to reach this place from the great central table-land where we had at first entered the forest, we had descended by the circuitous way we had come no less than 1600 feet in about forty miles.
These figures will give some idea of the swift current of the Manganui-a-te-Ao, which, taking its rise near the north-western side of Ruapehu, cuts its way through a mountainous country in a deep, rock-bound channel, and receives the waters of innumerable tributaries along its entire course. The volume of water poured down by this impetuous stream, especially in the rainy season, and during the melting of the snows of Ruapehu, is something prodigious, while I believe the rapidity of its current is unequalled by any other river in New Zealand. Along its entire length its rocky bed is strewn with large boulders and masses of rock of colossal size, while its precipitous cliffs, crowned with towering, forest-clad mountains, impart to it a singularly grand and wild appearance. Besides its rapid course, it is remarkable for its windings and dangerous rapids. We found that the river was known by three native names—viz. Manganui-a-te-Ao, or "great river of light;" Te Waitahupara, and Te Wairoahakamanamana-a-Rongowaitahanui, or "the river of ever-dancing waters and steep, echoing cliffs"—while the Whanganui, into which it fell, was not only known by the latter name, but likewise as Te Wainui-a-Tarawera, or the "great waters of Tarawera."