The two rivers form the principal means of communication for the natives of Ruakaka with the outer world. From the Manganui-a-te-Ao they travel in canoes to the Whanganui, and thence southward to the coast. The distance is accomplished in a few days, owing to the rapid current, but the journey up stream often takes over a month. The natives are experienced "canoemen," as they must be in order to navigate their frail canoes over the many rapids and winding turns that mark the whole course of the river, as well as that of the Whanganui. At most of the rapids the water shoots over enormous boulders and between narrow channels, and the canoes, guided by poles, are carried over the treacherous places with wonderful dexterity. As may well be imagined, the frail craft often gets upset, but the natives, who are expert swimmers, right them again with little difficulty.
During our stay at Ruakaka we were guests of Pareoterangi and his family, which consisted of the old chieftainess, Hinepareoterangi, or the "woman of the heavenly crest," as her name implied; Ani, wife of Pareoterangi, a tall, gaunt woman with blunt features, and who wore her hair in short, thick ringlets about her head; Te Ahi, her daughter; and Toma, the tattooed savage who had called our horses "rats." We took up our quarters in the wharepuni with these people, but the dismal, and, I may say, dirty, tenement was constantly filled with the natives, who kept continually dropping in to chat or to have a look at us. In this way we had a good opportunity of studying the manners and customs of the Hauhaus of Ruakaka, and, all things considered, they seemed to be following about the same mode of life as they must have done before the arrival of Cook, their manners still presenting that mixture of rude freedom and simplicity suggestive of the infancy of society, before art had taught men to restrain the sentiments of their nature, or to disguise the original features of their character. Shut up in the midst of their forest wilderness, and having little or no connection with the outer world, they seemed to know nothing or to care for nothing beyond their own day-to-day existence. We learned that since time immemorial this wild and secluded valley had been a place of settlement for different hapus of the tribes inhabiting the region of the Whanganui River, and that those at present dwelling there were the Ngatihau, Ngatiapa, Ngatimaringi, Ngatitamakana, Ngatiatamira, Ngatiruakopiri, Ngatiikewaia, and Ngatitara. We were informed that their common ancestor was Uenuku, and that their forefathers came from Hawaiki in the Tainui, Arawa, and Aotea canoes. In former times the whole valley of the Manganui-a-te-Ao was fortified with formidable pas, so that it was impossible for an enemy to get up the river. During the troubled times of the great war with the Europeans Ruakaka was always considered as a safe meeting-place for the Hauhau tribes of this part of the country, since the pakehas did not know of its existence; and even if they had, as the natives reasonably remarked, they would never have attempted to penetrate into its fastnesses with any prospect of returning alive.
I was anxious to test the religious principles of our Hauhau friends, just to see whether a ray of Christianity was to be found in this wild valley, and during an evening sitting, when the wharepuni was heated like a furnace, and all the motley crowd were assembled together, I got Turner to sound the old tattooed man, who had been a noted fighting-chief during the war, upon the present and upon the hereafter. This grim, antiquated warrior would sit and listen for hours to everything that was said, but he would never venture a remark. Now and again a diabolically sinister smile would pass over his blue-lined countenance, and he would mutter a word with a puff of smoke, but beyond this he was silent. When, however, the question as to his religious scruples was put straight to him, he spoke out frankly, and said, with an air of singular naïveté, "At one time I thought there were two saints in the island—Tawhiao and Te Whiti—and I waited a long time to see if they would be taken up to heaven in a chariot of fire, but I have waited so long that I am tired, and now I think that there are no saints in heaven or on earth." Old Hinepareoterangi, who was always a good talker, and displayed at all times a facetious spirit, laughed heartily at the admission of the old man, and then, looking us full in the face, she exclaimed in her wild, weird way, "We believe in nothing here, and get fat on pork and potatoes." This brought down roars of laughter from the assembled Hauhaus, and we dropped the religious question.
It was, in fact, very clear that these natives were as deeply wrapped in the darkness of heathenism as were their forefathers centuries ago, and beyond a superstitious species of Hauhauism, no germ of religious teaching appeared to have found its way into their breasts. They were, however, always ready to sing Hauhau chants to the glorification of Te Whiti and Te Kooti, who appeared to be the presiding deities of these wild tribes. At night, when the wind and rain raged without, and the river rushed through its rock-bound channel with a noise like thunder, both men and women would chant these wild refrains in droning, melancholy notes, but in perfect harmony, the airs in most cases being exceedingly pretty and touching.
The two following chants were sung to us by Te Pareoterangi and other natives in chorus, and were taken down in Maori verbatim by Turner. I am indebted for their spirited translation to the able pen of Mr. C.O. Davis.
TE KOOTI'S LAMENT.
I stood alone awhile, then moving round
I heard of Taranaki's doings. The rumours
Reached me here, and then I raised
My hand to Tamarura,[55] that deity
Above. Ah me! 'twas on the third
Of March that suffering came,
For then, alas! Waerangahika[56] fell;
And I was shipped on board a vessel,
And borne along upon the ocean.
We steer for Waikawa,[57] and then we bear
Away to Ahuriri,[58] to thee, McLean.[59]
Ah, now I'm seated on St. Kilda's[60] deck,
And looking back to gaze upon the scene
My tears like water freely flow; now
Whanganui's[61] shore is seen, now Whangaroa,[62]
Where mountain waves are raising up their crests
Near Wharekauri.[63] O, my people,
Rest ye at home; arise and look around,
nd northward look. The lightsome clouds
Are lingering in the sky, and wafted hither
Day by day, yes, from my distant home,
Turanga, from which I now am separated,
Separated now from those I love.
O, my people! respect the queen's authority,
That we may prosper even to the end.
Suffice the former things thrown in our path
As obstacles. Uphold the governor's laws
To mitigate the deeds of Rura, who brought
Upon us all our troubles.
Let us arise, O people!—the whole of us arise.
Lo, Tohu and Te Whiti now have reached
The pits of darkness—the house of Tangaroa,[64]
And gateway of the spirit-world of Miru,[65]
Where men are bound all seasons of the year.
The offspring, too, of David they would bind.
The bright and morning star, Peace, at the end
Will come, and in the times of David
Feelings of vindictiveness will cease.
'Tis not from thee; it is from Moses
And the Prophets—from Jesus Christ
And His Apostles, that lines of demarcation
Were set up to shield thee from man's wrath.
The termination comes by thee, O Tohu!
And while it wears a pleasing aspect,
I am lighted into day.