A very considerable tract of land, then known as the King Country, lay to the west of Tauranga, and included, I think, the Ohinemutu district. Riding from Tauranga towards the west, you passed through the bracken country and then arrived at the magnificent bush, which began at a place called Europe, known as “Orope” by the Maoris. Glorious and magnificent trees towered overhead, while hundreds of creepers and other semi-tropical plants grew so intensely that it was more than difficult to force a way through. Herein was the home of the supple-jack, whose branches enfolded you more and more the longer you attempted to force your way through. Here was the home of the wild boar. A large tract of this country formed part of the land for which compensation was to be paid by the Government to the Maoris in accordance with the dictates of Exeter Hall.

Courts of jurisdiction were established at several centres of the population. The courts consisted of an English justice and a native assessor. One of these courts was established at Tauranga. The question for the court to decide was which Maori tribe, at the time of the close of the Maori War, were actually the rightful owners of the particular land in dispute. I was informed at the time—and I think my information was correct—that the title of ownership lay, in accordance with the Maori traditions, with the chief of a tribe who had actually killed (and eaten part of) his unsuccessful rival. The courts arranged to make duly known to all tribes that put forward a claim to any such lands, the dates on which sittings would be held to deal with each case in rotation.

I was at Tauranga when the court was sitting, and a wonderful experience it was. The value of the tract of land under consideration in this one case was some £6,500. Remember that it was not intended to restore the land to the Maoris. They were to be compensated only in cash value for the loss of the land. In this particular instance there were three tribes whose chiefs claimed to have been in possession at the time of the war, and who desired to appear before the court. The procedure was as follows: The court sat at Tauranga. The tribes declined to be represented by the chiefs, even if accompanied by a few of their elder tribesmen; they insisted upon attending the courts with the whole tribe, men, women and children. Their average number was about 380. Provision had to be made for suitable camps during the course of the trial. What a time for the furniture dealers, storekeepers, butchers, bakers, and other tradesmen, whose pleasant duty it became to make such provision! Remember that all expenses which the tribes incurred were a charge on the capital value of £6,500. The Maoris cared not. They did not realize that they were actually paying for their own subsistence. The sole aim of each tribe was to win its case. The local authorities fixed the localities for the camps and made all arrangements for their comfort on a liberal scale. The first tribe to arrive found their quarters ready for them, and it then became their privilege to welcome the second tribe, which came from across the water, a small arm of the sea to the south of the town. This tribe swam across, men, women and children, to the head of the jetty to which the local steamers made fast. The Maoris who lived in close proximity to the sea were excellent swimmers.

The order of procedure was as follows: The tribe already in possession of the camp piled up a couple of trucks with barrels of beer, bottles of rum, gin, brandy and whisky. These trucks were run down the rails to the end of the jetty and were left there to await the arrival of the swimming tribe, while the others remained on the shore end to welcome them. The new-comers, tired after their long swim, greatly appreciated the kind thought of their hosts, and immediately set to work to consume as much of the good gifts as the gods, or, rather, their legal opponents, offered them. These, drawn up in battle array, impatiently awaited their arrival, the braves all in front in such a position as they considered advisable, from their military point of view, to impress their guests with a sense of their prowess. Behind the fighting line the womenfolk were drawn up. In their front line were their best-looking girls. They were specially put there to catch the eye of the leading young men among their guests. The elderly women and the youngsters formed the third line.

Thus the hosts waited for the arrival of their guests. The original idea was that the tribe arriving would take a certain amount of the drink offered to them, enough to fortify themselves so as to arrive at the end of the jetty in fairly good condition. But the hopes of the hosts were unjustified. There was nothing left on the trolley at the end of the jetty but empty beer barrels and glass bottles. Watching them as I did, from the little fort just overlooking the jetty, I was wondering how the advance of the visiting tribe down the jetty was going to be carried out. I gathered, from what I had seen, that the amount of spirits consumed would produce some comical effects. I was quite disappointed. I wondered also whether the procession down the jetty was to be carried out in the clothes in which they arrived, which were nil. It would have been a quaint experience to have seen a whole naked tribe arriving at quite a respectable English settlement. But, no. Their coverings had been carefully carried by the swimmers on the top of their heads and kept dry. And while they refreshed themselves from the friendly truck they donned such garments as made them quite respectable.

The order for the advance was then formed. It was similar to that which was to receive them on the shore end of the jetty. One could not help admiring their methods. Ceremonial parades all over the world, held at coronations of kings, in commemoration of the proclamation of a country’s victories, aided by the pomp and glory of all modern accessories, failed to convey the solemnity, such as it was, of the advance of that tribe down that jetty. Led by the chief and chieftains of the tribe, followed by their “braves,” that is, their fighting men, the march down the jetty began. There was no band, and no music but their battle-cry—a battle-cry that had made them redoubtable enemies and had forced us to send a large expeditionary force, with all the then best military resources, to overcome them. Down the jetty they came, moving in complete unison that shook the structure itself as they beat it in their advance. As they came forward their hosts joined in rhythm with their advance, stamping on the shore end till the ground, too, shook. The scene became quite inspiring. I have never been present at any review or parade—and I have seen many in many parts of the world—which has so impressed me or left such a keen impression in my mind as that of the moment when the two tribes met at the shore end of that jetty. You may think this is rather a far-fetched thought, but it isn’t, and you wouldn’t have thought so if you had been there.

The official meeting of the chiefs first took place. The rhythmical beating of the ground by the hundreds of feet of the hosts and guests suddenly ceased, and a friendly greeting of all, which, in the usage of the Maoris, took the form of rubbing noses, began and held full sway. The arriving tribe settled down then to the camp provided for them by the authorities. Two days afterwards the third tribe arrived, and the same ceremony took place. The ground then again shook unmistakably. It took one back—as many of the residents of Tauranga (who after fighting in the Maori War had settled in the district) remembered—to the days of that campaign and to the battle-cry of the advancing Maoris whom they had fought against. But these very men were now engaged in the pursuits of peace, and all of them welcomed with delight the presence of their late enemies. It was the source of much profit to them.

This particular case was duly settled by the court. Its decision was given in favour, if I remember rightly, of the tribe that swam across from the south. The court officials were entrusted with the settlement of the expenses incurred by the tribes. After paying all these expenses a sum of some one thousand pounds remained as the amount to be paid in compensation, in accordance with the edict of Exeter Hall, to the winners.

The final celebration had now to take place. The chief of the victorious tribe invited the losing tribes to a farewell festival. A great Maori haka was held, to which not only the natives themselves, but the whole of the English inhabitants, were invited. The braves of all the tribes took part in this. It was a wonderful scene. It took place upon a moonlight night. There was an inner circle, in the centre of which the triumphant chief and his chieftains, surrounded by the chief and chieftains of the other two tribes, stood. Around them was a palisade of sticks, on which the one thousand odd pounds in notes, paid to them as a result of the court’s finding, were festooned. Immediately surrounding this circle were the braves of the losing tribes, and beyond, all round, the womenfolk and the children and European guests. Fires flared in all directions. You have no doubt read about the natives of different parts of the world, but you may not know that the Maori race was, without exception, one of the best indigenous types in our Empire.

Well, the scene was set and the war-dance started. Victors and losers joined, in complete accord with their own customs, and I doubt if a more inspiring sight, taking in view their numbers, has been seen. As their enthusiasm increased the greater became their rhythmical movements. As their vigour increased the more weird became the scene. They were fighting, in their minds, their old battles against their old foe—battles which they had fought with their native weapons against weapons of civilization. Their old war-cries leapt forth from their hearts and mouths as they had done when they fell before their enemy. They looked bewitched, and stayed not nor stopped in their wild orgy until physical distress forced them.