“The natives of New Zealand cannot bear this uncertainty; they can see the merits of a question as clearly as we can; but if they detect us in a falsehood, or even in a change of purpose the reason of which they cannot understand, our influence with them is lost.”
It was in the neighbourhood of the Bay of Islands that there was most restlessness, and here the discontented Maoris gathered round a chief named John Heke. On a hill overlooking the village of Kororareke there was a blockhouse with a few soldiers and a flagstaff on which the British flag was flying. This was to the natives a symbol of British sovereignty. Heke was a Christian and had no hostility to the missionaries, nor did he desire to destroy the property of the settlers. It was the fear lest his people should be reduced to the condition of slaves that aroused his hostility. The Bishop writes:
“Meetings began to be held at which John Heke was the chief speaker, the subject of discussion being the cutting down of the flagstaff. In the month of August, 1844, Heke assembled a party of armed men, and proceeded to Kororareke, where he spent Saturday and part of Sunday in alarming the natives and early on Monday morning, mounted the hill and cut down the flagstaff. I was at Paihai at the time, engaged in the native school, at the close of which the first words I heard were ‘the colour has fallen.’ I shuddered at the thought of this beginning of hostilities, so full of presage of evil for the future. Heke then crossed to Paihai, and with his party danced the war dance in my face, after which many violent speeches were made.”
The Bishop’s fears were justified; a troubled period of anarchy followed. Soldiers were sent for from Sydney to defend the settlers and their property. The fighting was most serious in the district round Kororareke. During the next two years the flagstaff was cut down on three more occasions, and the town of Kororareke was captured by the Maori rebels. The Bishop watched the attack from his little sailing vessel, to which he had brought some of the wives and children of the settlers for safety. Then he landed with Mr. Williams to recover and bury the bodies of the dead. He wrote:
“We found the town in the possession of the natives, who were busily engaged in plundering the houses. Their behaviour to us was perfectly civil and inoffensive. Several immediately guided us to the spots where the bodies were down upon this day of sorrow.... The state of the town after the withdrawal of the troops was very characteristic. The natives carried on their work of plunder with perfect composure, neither quarrelling among themselves nor resenting any attempt on the part of the English to recover portions of their property.... With sorrow I observed that many of the natives were wheeling off casks of spirits; but they listened patiently to my remonstrances, and in one instance they allowed me to turn the cock and let the liquor run out upon the ground.”
That evening he rode to the Waimate and from there watched the burning of Kororareke, the whole sky lighted up by the blaze of burning houses. The next morning passing near the scene of desolation to get to his boat, he noticed how “all that had been devoted to mammon was gone, but heathen vengeance had spared the patrimony of God. The two chapels and the houses of the clergy remained undestroyed.” It was impossible to say what would be the result of this native success upon the “position and prospects” of the Christian teachers. But there were some hopeful signs, and the Bishop was clear as to the part he intended to play. “My hope is that by cautious and judicious management, the Church interest in this country may be kept clear of all political dissensions. On one point I think that I may speak decisively, that there is no evidence of any general or indiscriminate hatred of the natives towards the English settlers, or any disposition to bloodthirsty or savage acts of violence. The proceedings at Kororareke were conducted with all the usages of European warfare.... In the midst of much that was fearful, there was much also that proved the indirect effect of religion and civilization upon the minds of the natives.... There are many signs which give us great hopes for the future.”
The Bishop exerted himself on every possible occasion to promote peace and to save life, exposing himself fearlessly in his efforts to bring off safely the wives and children of the settlers, who were conveyed to Auckland and there cared for by Mrs. Selwyn and the other ladies. But his absolute neutrality was not appreciated and he was called a traitor because he would not share in the general hatred of the natives. He did not allow his unpopularity to disturb him and wrote:
“The real subject of grief is the injury which is done to religion by the un-Christian feelings and language which many permit and justify in themselves. In this perversion of public feeling it becomes necessary to stand firm and let the flood sweep by.”
But his courage and devotion were amply recognized by those who witnessed it. The officer commanding the Hazard, the British vessel which had brought the troops from Sydney to the ill-fated encounter with the natives, wrote to him saying:
“There is not a single man on board who does not appreciate your conduct.... Go where you will, you will carry with you the good wishes of all who saw you under the late trying circumstances.”