An Old New Zealander; or, Te Rauparaha, the Napoleon of the South.

by Thomas Lindsay Buick

Proceeding to the bush, their first operation was to cut down a number of saplings, which were pointed and then driven into the soft mud, closely enclosing in rectangular form sufficient space on which to place the foundations of the houses. Smaller stakes were then driven into the centre of the enclosure, upon which were spitted those compact masses of vegetation known as "Maori-heads." A layer of these gave the builders a solid basis upon which to work, and huge stones, earth, and gravel were brought in the canoes from the shore, and poured into the enclosures until the pile of débris rose some height above the level of the water. Six such islands were formed on Lake Horowhenua and two on Papaitonga, and on these whares were erected, which were gradually extended by the addition of platforms reaching a considerable distance beyond the islands. Round each of these platforms ran a stout palisade, which served the dual purpose of preventing the very young children from falling into the water and offering a formidable barrier to the assaults of the enemy. As the only means of communication with these islands was by canoe, and as it was well known to the Muaupoko people that Te Rauparaha had few such vessels, they felt comparatively secure from attack so soon as they had transferred themselves to their new retreat.

But they little reckoned on the kind of man with whom they had to deal, when they imagined that a placid sheet of water could interpose between Te Rauparaha and his enemies. Canoes he had not, but strong swimmers he had; and it is a fine tribute to their daring that, on a dark and gloomy night, a small band of these undertook to swim off to one of the Horowhenua pas and attack its sleeping inhabitants. With their weapons lashed to their wrists, they silently entered the water, and by swift side strokes reached the walls of Waipata, the pa which they had chosen for their attempt, and were swarming over the palisades before a note of warning could be sounded. Taken at such a disadvantage, it was not to be expected that the Muaupoko resistance would be effective, for they were both stunned by surprise and paralysed by fear at the awful suddenness of the attack. Flight was their first thought, and such as were not slain in their sleep or caught in their attempt to escape, plunged into the lake and made for the nearest shelter. In this endeavour to escape death all were not successful, and it is estimated that, between the killed and drowned, the attack upon Waipata cost the Muaupoko several hundred lives, besides adding to their misfortune by shattering utterly their belief in the inaccessibility of their island pas. The adjoining pas upon the lake, warned of the impending danger by the tumult at Waipata, at once prepared for a stubborn defence; but the attacking party, feeling themselves unequal to the task of a second assault, discreetly withdrew to the mainland before it was yet daylight, and at once made preparations for another attack upon a more extensive scale. But both prudence and necessity dictated the wisdom of delay; it was wiser to wait until Muaupoko had relapsed into their former state of confidence, and, moreover, the plan upon which it was proposed to make the attack required time for its development.

Recognising the strength of the Waikiekie pa, against which the energies of his tribe were next to be directed, Te Rauparaha saw that success was not to be expected unless he could attack it in force. This involved the transportation of a large body of men over the waters of the lake, which could only be effected by means of canoes. These he did not possess in numbers, and, even if he had, he must still devise means of conveying them to the lake, which was several miles from the coast. His ingenious mind, however, soon discovered an escape from these perplexities, and he at once decided upon a plan, which was not without precedent in European warfare or imitation in subsequent Maori history. His scheme involved the haulage of his canoes over the belt of land which separated the lake from the sea, and the enterprise seems to have been as cleverly executed as it was daringly designed. Out of the lake runs an insignificant stream, which slowly meanders over shallows and between narrow banks down to the ocean; and to the mouth of this creek were brought such canoes as had fallen into Te Rauparaha's hands at the taking of Kapiti, and a larger one which had been procured from his friends at Whanganui-a-Tara.[59] Where the water was deep enough, or the reaches straight enough, the canoes were floated up the bed of the stream; but as this was possible only at rare intervals, the greater part of the distance was covered by dragging the vessels over the grassy flats and ferny undulations. Such a task would be laborious enough under any circumstances; but on this occasion it was rendered even more wearisome by the necessity for conducting it in absolute silence. As the success of the expedition depended mainly upon the completeness of the surprise, it was essential that no note of warning should be given, and therefore it was impossible to encourage the workers to greater exertions by song or speech; but so heartily did they bend themselves to their monotonous task, that the three miles of toilsome road were traversed before the break of day.

The outflow of the lake was hidden by a clump of trees which grew close to the water's edge, and behind this natural screen the canoes were concealed, and the men lay down to rest until the moment came to strike. At the first appearance of dawn, the canoes were shot into the lake, and before the inhabitants of Waikiekie had shaken slumber from their eyes, the shaft was on its way that would send many of them to their last long sleep. The pa was attacked on every side, and with a vigour which left little chance of escape. Such resistance as was possible in such a situation was offered by the drowsy defenders. But the mortal fear with which they had come to regard the Ngati-Toa, together with the fury of the onslaught and the completeness of the surprise, spread panic amongst them, and the resistance was soon left to a desperate few. Their valiant efforts brought them nothing but the glory which attends the death of the brave. They were quickly borne down before the onrush of the assailants, whose shouts of triumph, joined with the terrified cries of the fugitives, filled the morning air. Large numbers, who looked to discretion rather than valour, plunged into the lake, and by swimming, diving, and dodging, a few managed to elude both capture and death. But many were slain as they swam, and, while their bodies sank to the bottom, their blood mingled with the waters of the lake, until it lay crimson beneath the rising sun. Warriors and women, old men and children, to the number of two hundred, we are told, perished on that fateful morning, which saw the Muaupoko tribe driven from Horowhenua, and the epoch of their greatness brought to a close. A mere remnant of the tribe escaped, and made their way through the forests and mountain fastnesses towards the south, where, within the space of another year, they were again pursued, hunted, and slaughtered, with all the old relentless hatred of their destroyer.

Having inflicted this crushing blow upon Muaupoko, and feeling convinced that they could never again be a serious menace to Ngati-Toa, the section of the Ngati-Awa tribe who, under Rere-ta-whangawhanga and other chiefs, had accompanied Te Rauparaha from Taranaki, now determined to return to their own country at Waitara;[60] and it was this decision which made it imperative that the Ngati-Toa leader should seek efficient aid from some other quarter. He accordingly, without delay, despatched messengers to the north, once again to invite his kinsmen of the Ngati-Raukawa tribe to come and join him. These emissaries, having arrived at Taupo, learned that an attempt to reach Kapiti by way of the east coast had already been made by Te Whatanui, but without success, as he had been defeated by a Hawke's Bay tribe and driven back. This experience had somewhat cooled his ardour; but when Te Rauparaha's messengers came with the news that Kapiti had been taken, and told of his marvellous success at Waipata and Waikiekie, interest in the project at once revived. Especially was a young chief, named Te Ahu-karamu, fired with its romantic prospects, and he immediately organised a force of one hundred and twenty men and set off for the land of promise.

Almost simultaneously with the arrival of these reinforcements, additional strength was gained by the accession of another band of Ngati-Awa from Taranaki; and, with these additions to his ranks, Te Rauparaha felt himself strong enough to resume once more active operations in the field. He accordingly moved upon a skilfully built pa situated at Paekakariki, some miles to the southward of Kapiti, whither the escaping Muaupoko had fled and taken refuge. In this adventure a larger force than usual was employed; for not only were the new arrivals keen for a brush with the enemy, but the natural strength of the pa was such that Rauparaha knew it would be useless to approach it without a force of adequate proportions. In these anticipations his judgment was correct, as usual, for the struggle proved to be an exceedingly obstinate one and the death-roll on both sides considerable. After some days of incessant attack, in which the few muskets possessed by Ngati-Toa played their fatal part, the Muaupoko defence was pierced, and the victory was sealed with all the atrocities associated with the savage warfare of the ancient Maori.

The capture of this pa proved to be a rich prize for Rauparaha. Not only did it uproot the last stronghold of the Muaupoko people, but it brought a substantial addition to his supplies. Large quantities of provisions were discovered within the stockade, evidently collected in anticipation of a lengthy siege. So provident, in fact, had the inhabitants of the Paekakariki fort been in this respect, that the large attacking force spent the succeeding two months feasting upon the captured stores, interspersed with an occasional cannibal repast. This period of rest the visitors were prepared to enjoy to the full; for after a battle nothing was more congenial to Maori warriors than to lie idly about the sunny places in the pa, and discuss in every detail the stirring incidents of the fight.

It was while thus basking in fancied security that the tables were suddenly turned upon them, and from a most unexpected quarter. Hearing from some of the fugitives of the capture of the Paekakariki pa, and burning to avenge the raid which Ngati-Toa had previously made into the Wairarapa, the members of the Ngati-Kahungunu tribe residing at Wairarapa and near Wellington believed that this was their golden opportunity. Secretly collecting a fighting force of considerable strength, they made their way through the bush to Paekakariki, and there fell upon the unwary and self-indulgent invaders. To them it was something of a novel experience to be thus repaid in their own tactics; but the swiftness and audacity with which the blow was delivered completely demoralised them, and the erstwhile assailants suffered the humiliation of being beaten back upon Waikanae with inglorious precipitancy. The whole procedure necessarily involved considerable loss on the part of Ngati-Toa and their allies, and the bitterness of the reverse was especially galling because it was the first occasion on which they had been worsted in arms since their occupation of the country had commenced. The closeness of the pursuit did not slacken until the fugitives had reached Waikanae; but beyond this point Ngati-Kahungunu did not press their advantage. They were now rushing into touch with Rauparaha's permanent settlements, from which the echoes of the strife might draw reinforcements at any moment. Unwilling to overrun their victory, the men from Whanganui-a-Tara withdrew to the south, well pleased with their achievement, which was not without its lesson for Te Rauparaha.

The chief saw that the time had not yet arrived when he could relax his life-long vigilance. Heavy as had been the defeats which he had inflicted upon the resident people, he saw that their spirit had not yet been completely crushed. Brave as his own followers were, he saw that they were not proof against the panic which often springs from a surprise attack. The thing, however, which caused him most concern was the hostile attitude which was now being adopted towards him by the Ngati-Kahungunu people. Hitherto this powerful tribe, whose domain was a wide and populous one on the eastern coast, had remained comparatively neutral in the contest for supremacy in the west. But now this attitude was abandoned, and under the encouragement afforded by this prospect of protection, the displaced tribes were gradually venturing back to their deserted settlements. Should an effective alliance be formed between his enemies on the two coasts, the position would at once become so charged with danger that his comparatively small force would find itself in a most critical situation. It was, then, the threatening attitude of his neighbours which caused the Ngati-Toa chief to decide finally upon the abandonment of the mainland and the transference of the whole of his people to Kapiti, there to await the result of his mission to his friends at Maungatautari. In the meantime three strongly fortified pas were built upon the island, and every preparation made against possible attack. These pas, situated one at either end, and the third in the centre of the island, were designed with as keen an eye for trade as for the purposes of defence. Te Rauparaha had not lost sight of the main purpose of his conquest, which was to bring himself into close association with the whalers, from whom he hoped to obtain, by purchase, barter, or bullying, additions to his store of guns and ammunition. For this purpose Kapiti was easily the key to the position. Favoured by deep water and safe anchorage, it afforded the securest of shelter to vessels seeking to escape from the dirty weather which comes whistling through the Strait. Boats lying snugly at anchor under the lee of the land would have opportunities for trade from which all others would be cut off; and there is little doubt that this commercial advantage was coolly calculated upon when the pas on the mainland were evacuated and those on the island were occupied. This much at least is certain, that, whether part of a premeditated scheme or otherwise, the move proved to be a masterstroke, for it gave to Te Rauparaha a virtual monopoly of the white man's patronage, a privilege which for years he guarded with jealous exclusiveness.

When it became known that Te Rauparaha had retired to Kapiti, and there seemed less danger of immediate molestation, the Rangitane people again began to collect in force near their old home at Hotuiti. They built a strong pa near the present town of Foxton, and here they were joined by a number of Ngati-Apa chiefs and people from Rangitikei. This proceeding Te Rauparaha regarded as a danger and a menace to his safety; for he had no reason to believe that he enjoyed their friendship, and no means of ascertaining when they might think fit to wreak their vengeance upon him. He therefore decided to take the initiative and attack them. Accordingly, with Rangihaeata and his Ngati-Apa wife Pikinga, he marched his war party up the coast and at once invested the place. The method by which he sought to reduce the pa to submission was a clever stratagem—perfectly honourable, perhaps, according to the Maori code of warfare—but utterly repulsive to civilised ideas; and, to those who judge him by the latter standard, it lowers Te Rauparaha from the high plane of a classic warrior to the level of a cunning and unscrupulous savage. His first act of generalship aimed at separating the two tribes, a step which has been attributed by some to a desire to spare the Ngati-Apa, because of their relationship with Pikinga. Others, however, can see in it nothing but a clever ruse to divide the defending force, so that he might the more easily attack and defeat them singly. He therefore sent Pikinga to the Ngati-Apa chiefs with a request that they would withdraw to their own territory beyond the Rangitikei River. Probably he promised them safe-conduct on their journey; but, if he did, it was of no avail, for they firmly refused to evacuate the Hotuiti pa, and doggedly remained where they were. Feigning, then, to abandon his campaign, Te Rauparaha sent to the Rangitane chiefs, inviting them to come to him and negotiate terms of peace.