There were not wanting malcontents who prophesied all sorts of evil because Captain Grey had accepted the submission of Kawiti and Heke, pardoned them unconditionally, relieved the north of martial law, and left only a nominal garrison at the Bay of Islands.
But the Governor already knew the Maori well enough to feel sure that a generous confidence in their honour would strongly appeal to them. And, besides, when George Grey had resolved upon a course, he held to his resolution, unstimulated by the smiles of flatterers, unvexed by the sneers of the envious, undeterred by the expressed opinion, good, bad, or indifferent, of any living being.
Kawiti was seventy-two when he rushed the British with his favourite flank attacks. A week after the destruction of his famous fortress, Ruapekapeka, he wrote to the Governor, proposing peace in a letter very characteristic of himself, and particularly impressing one fact upon His Excellency. "Let us have peace between you and me," he wrote, "for I am filled with your riches" (he meant, "I have had enough of your cannon-balls"). "Therefore, I say, let you and I make peace. Will you not? Yes!"
Honi Heke professed not to wish to make peace, and so long as he actually refused submission, so long was there danger that, if opportunity served, he would break out again. Once he had submitted, that possibility would cease to exist; for he had never been known to break his pledged word.
Waka Nene paid him a visit one day and attempted to talk him over. Heke admitted that he had every desire for peace, but that, as he was a great chief (which he was not, save by marriage, as Waka knew very well), and as he had only fought in defence of his land and his liberty, which no one should convince him was wrong, he would only submit if the Kawana came and asked him to do so.
Perhaps no one was more surprised than Heke when the Governor came and frankly offered him his hand. In the Maori code, the chief who goes first to the other, or who first sends a "go-between," is held to be the one who sues for peace. So Heke shook hands with the Governor and tried to be condescending. But he knew in his heart that he was dealing with a shrewder man than himself, and one who would never hesitate to make a small and not dishonourable concession for the sake of a great public good. Heke knew that he had received the shadow, and looked content; Governor Grey was fully aware that he had gained the substance, and was content.
The conclusion of the whole matter came in May, when old Kawiti boarded H.M.S. Diver, then in the Bay of Islands, and formally tendered his submission to the Governor, expressing his regret for the trouble he had given, and his gratitude for the consideration with which he had been treated. The scene was watched by Waka Nene and other chiefs who had helped to lay the axe to the root of this venerable tree; but, true to his course, Governor Grey's reception of him was so cordial and kind, that the old warrior soon forgot his humiliation, and remembered only that he stood in the presence of a friend. O si sic semper!
"Jack" Maori did not allow the Governor much breathing time. The south was seething with discontent. Some of the colonists had never forgiven the Executive for treating the Massacre of the Wairau as a political rather than as a personal incident and, since Te Rauparaha and Rangihaeata were living in the neighbourhood of Wellington, people there were apprehensive of similar happenings. The Maori, too—and particularly the restless pair just mentioned—continually grumbled, and the burden of their lament was, as ever, "Land! Land! Land!" Moreover, men of their type were not likely to be heedless of the doings farther north. Colonists knew this, and conceived their fears well grounded.
They were indeed. Neither Te Rauparaha nor his friend, Rangihaeata, were men to be trusted should power, linked with opportunity, come their way. They had already scored heavily off the Pakeha, and their attitude was closely watched and imitated by their countrymen. A few miles outside Wellington settlers were treated with an insolence which enraged them, but which they dared not resent as they would have done had their numbers been greater and their dwellings less scattered. Their indignation at the behaviour of the Maori was the greater, because they now felt it to be justified; for the land most in dispute—the valley of the Hutt—had been bought by Governor Fitzroy, and the money paid over to Te Rauparaha. Whether he had or had not made a fair division with Rangihaeata was not the settlers' affair.