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

by Thomas Lindsay Buick

On their arrival, the hospitality of Te Puoho was of the most bountiful nature. The visitors were shown to their houses, and no effort was spared to allay any suspicion of treachery. But one night, as they sat around their fires, the appointed signal was given, and the guests were set upon by a force superior in numbers by two to one, and, to use the words of a native[143] who knew the story well, "they were killed like pigs," only one man escaping from the massacre. This was Te Aweawe, whose life was spared at the instigation of Tungia, in return for a similar act of humanity which the Rangitane chief had been able to perform for him some time before. In justice to Te Rauparaha, it should be stated that this massacre was not entirely prompted by his old grudge against the Rangitane people, but partly arose out of a new cause of grievance against them, which serves to illustrate the complexity of Maori morality and the smallness of the pretence upon which they deemed a sacrifice of life both justifiable and necessary. The offence of which the Rangitane people had been adjudged guilty enough to deserve so terrible a punishment was the fact that they were somewhat distantly related to the Ngati-Kahungunu tribe, resident in the Wairarapa. These people had some time previously killed a number of Ngati-Toa natives, whom they believed to be plotting their destruction; for, while they were discussing their plans in one of the whares, a Ngati-Kahungunu, who was sleeping with at least one ear open, overheard their conversation, and at once gave the alarm, with the result that the tables were turned on the scheming Ngati-Toa. Their deaths, however, had to be avenged; and it is easy to understand how gladly Te Rauparaha would avail himself of this new excuse for wiping out old scores.

The morning after the massacre, Tungia took Te Aweawe outside the Waikanae pa, and, placing a weapon in his hand, said, "Go! come back again and kill these people." The released chief at once made his way back as best he could to the Manawatu, where he found most of the settlements deserted by the terror-stricken inhabitants, in consequence of the appalling news which had just reached them of the death of their friends. He, however, succeeded in collecting about thirty warriors, and with these he travelled down the coast, receiving additions by the way from a few stragglers belonging to his own and the Muaupoko tribes. When they reached Waikanae, they found the Ngati-Toa and Ngati-Awa peoples busily engaged in gathering flax to trade away for guns and powder and little suspecting an attack. They had beguiled themselves into the false belief that the shattered Rangitane would not be able to collect in so short a time a force sufficiently strong to harm them. When, therefore, Te Aweawe, at the head of his brave little band, burst in upon them, dealing death at every blow, they, in their turn, were at all the disadvantage of being taken completely by surprise. Upwards of sixty of the followers of Te Rauparaha were killed, amongst them a chieftainess named Muri-whakaroto, who fell into the hands of the enraged Te Aweawe, and was despatched without the slightest compunction. Matea, the Rangitane chief second in command, was more chivalrous to Tainai Rangi, for he spared her and brought her back, a prisoner certainly, but still alive. Such of the flax-gathering party as were not slain made good their escape down the coast; and the avengers of Mahuri, fearing that they might soon return with a large and active war party, beat a hasty retreat, well satisfied with the result of their mission of revenge—the last great act of slaughter perpetrated by the resident people as a protest against the conquest of their country.

Any policy of retaliation which Te Rauparaha and the chiefs who were co-operating with him may have contemplated, as a step towards restoring the equilibrium of tribal honour, had to be indefinitely delayed, owing to the rapidity with which events developed in another direction; and that delay robbed them of future opportunity. The death of Waitohi, Te Rauparaha's sister, and mother of Rangihaeata, had just occurred at Mana, where she had been living with her son. The demise of so high-born a woman necessarily demanded a tangi on an unusually elaborate and extensive scale, and the whole of the tribes who had been associated with Te Rauparaha in his scheme of conquest assembled on the island to attend the obsequies of the honoured dead. Levies of provisions were made upon all the tributary tribes on both sides of the Straits, and for several weeks the peculiar rites of a Maori funeral were continued without intermission.

It is said that, for no other purpose than to appear opulent in the eyes of his guests, Te Rauparaha ordered the killing and cooking of one of the poor slaves who had come from the Pelorus with his people's tribute to the feast. Be this as it may—and it is by no means improbable under the circumstances—the strange admixture of funeral and festival, which marks the Maori tangi, was observed at Mana in all its completeness and elaboration. But the death of Waitohi brought in its train something more than a great tangi; for indirectly it was the cause of the renewal of hostilities between Ngati-Awa and Ngati-Raukawa, culminating in the engagement known in Maori history as Kuititanga, which was fought on October 16, 1839. It is not clear why or in what way the old sore between these comrades in arms was re-opened, but the weight of testimony inclines towards the assumption that Te Rauparaha's irrepressible passion for intrigue was the moving impulse in urging Ngati-Raukawa to take the step they did. Whether he had grown jealous of Ngati-Awa's increasing numbers and power, or whether, having achieved all he could hope to accomplish, he wished to shake himself free from any further obligation to them, cannot of course be asserted with any confidence. Ngati-Raukawa were nothing loath to join in any conspiracy against Ngati-Awa. Living, as they did, north of Kapiti, they began to find themselves somewhat out of touch with the whalers; and probably it was the rapid extension of trade, enabling Ngati-Awa to procure guns as readily as Rauparaha himself, that induced him to instigate Ngati-Raukawa to break the truce which had existed since the battle of Pakakutu. No breach of the peace actually occurred at Mana, but bickerings and threats foretold the coming storm; and when Ngati-Awa returned to their pas on the mainland, it was with the full consciousness that the attack would not be long delayed. The Ngati-Raukawa mourners remained at Mana for some time after Ngati-Awa had left, and it would have caused the latter no surprise had Ngati-Raukawa made an attack upon them—as indeed they invited it—as they passed Waikanae on their way to Otaki. This Ngati-Raukawa did not do, but went on with every semblance of peace, even ignoring the shots of defiance which were fired by Ngati-Awa as they passed. Towards evening, however, they altered their tactics, and, doubling back, surrounded the Kuititanga pa during the night, in preparation for the attack at daybreak. A reconnoitring party was sent out to investigate the state of the defences, one of whom was indiscreet enough to enter a house, and, rousing a boy by his intrusion, attempted to cover his blunder by asking him for a light for his pipe. The boy sharply recognised his visitor as a Ngati-Raukawa; and knowing that no friendly native would be prowling about at that unseemly hour, sprang for his gun, and fired point-blank at the intruder. The echo of the shot rang through the clear morning air, and was the signal for a general movement on both sides. The women and children made a hurried flight to the neighbouring settlements, from which Ngati-Awa reinforcements swarmed up to the assistance of their beleaguered tribesmen; and by daylight the full strength of both forces—variously estimated at between eight hundred and a thousand men—was actively engaged. The pa, which bore the brunt of the first assault, stood close to the seashore on a narrow tongue of sand, between the Waikanae and Waimea Rivers.[144] At the inception of the attack it was defended by a slender company of thirty men, who offered so stubborn a defence that the assailants were held in check until assistance arrived. A strong company of Ngati-Awa crossed the Waikanae, and, catching Ngati-Raukawa between two fires at this point, caused them to deploy and so open an avenue, by which the supports reached the pa. Trenches were now hurriedly dug in the loose soil, which, together with the protection offered by the stockade, afforded them a friendly shelter from the fire of the enemy. In this respect they were more fortunate than the aggressors, who, fighting in the open, suffered a greater number of casualties, including several of their principal chiefs.

Te Rauparaha took no part in the battle; but that he anticipated its occurrence is proved by the fact that he landed from his canoe shortly after it commenced. And when, at the close of an hour's desperate fighting, Ngati-Raukawa, who had his silent sympathy, if not his active help, began to waver under their heavy losses, he thought it prudent to get beyond the danger zone, and, plunging into the surf, swam towards his canoe. Ngati-Awa, who knew that he was inside the enemy's lines, saw the movement, and made a spirited effort to frustrate it, in the hope of capturing the man to whose subtle intrigues they attributed all their misfortunes. An equally vigorous rally on the part of Ngati-Raukawa intercepted their rush, and saved the chief, though at heavy cost to themselves. With Te Rauparaha safe amongst the whalers, who were watching the conflict from their boats, Ngati-Raukawa began rapidly to fall back; and, after maintaining a slackened fire, retired from the field altogether, taking their wounded with them, but leaving to Ngati-Awa the victor's privilege of burying the dead. Sixty of the Ngati-Raukawa had fallen, but only sixteen of the defenders. There were, however, many wounded in both camps. These were attended to by the medical men on board the Tory, which arrived at Kapiti on the day that the battle was fought; and, as Dr. Dieffenbach has left a graphic account of what he saw, no better authority can be here quoted:—

"All the people of the village were assembled; and, though grief was expressed in every face, they received us with the greatest kindness and attention, and we were obliged to shake hands with everybody. They regarded us as friends and allies, for we had brought with us from Te-Awaiti some of their relations; and when they saw the medical men of our party giving assistance to the wounded, their confidence and gratitude were unbounded. Some of the women gave themselves up to violent expressions of grief, cutting their faces, arms, and legs with broken mussel-shells, and inflicting deep gashes, from which the blood flowed profusely. We had brought with us E Patu, the son of a chief in East Bay, whose uncle had been killed in the battle. We found the widow standing on the roof of a hut, deploring in a low strain the loss of her husband. When E Patu approached she threw herself upon the ground, and, lying at his feet, related to him, in a funeral song, how great had been their happiness, how flourishing were their plantations, until the Ngati-Raukawa had destroyed their peace and bereft her of her husband. During this time E Patu stood before her, convulsively throwing his arms backwards and forwards, and joining in her lamentations. An old woman, bent down under the burden of many years, had her arms and face frightfully cut; she was painted with red kokowai, with a wreath of leaves round her head, and gesticulated and sang in a similar manner. In this place there were no wounded; they had been carried to the principal and most fortified pa, which lies a little to the northward. This latter village was very large; it stood on a sand-hill, and was well fenced in, and the houses were neatly constructed. Everything was kept clean and in good order, and in this respect it surpassed many villages in Europe. The population seemed to be numerous, and I estimated it, together with that of the first-mentioned village, and a third, about a mile higher up, to amount, on the whole, to seven hundred souls. Several native missionaries, some of them liberated Ngati-Awa slaves, live here; and the natives had built a large house, neatly lined with a firm and tall reed, for their church and meeting-house. At the time of our visit they were expecting the arrival of a missionary of the Church of England from the Bay of Islands, who purposed living amongst them. The medical aid which they had given to their wounded was confined to binding the broken limbs with splints made of the bark of a pine, or of the strongest part of the flax-leaves, and carefully protecting the wounds from external injury by means of hoops. Some of these bandages had been very well applied. I went to the beach on the following day to attend my wounded patients and to visit the scene of battle. This was at the third village, and many traces of the strife were visible: trenches were dug in the sand of the beach, the fences of the village had been thrown down, and the houses were devastated. The Ngati-Awa buried their own dead; and the improved state of this tribe was shown by the fact that, instead of feasting on the dead bodies of their enemies, they buried them, depositing them in one common grave, together with their muskets, powder, mats, &c., a generosity and good feeling as unusual as it was honourable to their character. The grave of their enemies they enclosed, and made it tapu (sacred)."

While this internecine strife raged up and down the coast, its disturbing influence had almost completely suspended the systematic settlement of the land by Europeans. There were many in Australia who, but for the peril of life and uncertainty of title, would long before this have swarmed over to New Zealand and occupied its shores. Only the most wanton and the more adventurous had come, and of these latter a few had been invited by the chiefs to remain, land being given to them on which to reside and establish themselves as traders. In isolated instances attempts had been made, chiefly by some subterfuge, to acquire from the natives large tracts of country for a nominal consideration; but these examples of dishonesty almost invariably brought their own punishment. One of the most unscrupulous of such perfidious transactions was that of Captain Blenkinsopp. He had sailed these seas in command of the whaler Caroline, and had made more than one trip to Cloudy Bay. There he became infatuated with a Maori woman of the Ngati-Toa tribe. His alliance with her gave him influence with Te Rauparaha and Rangihaeata, who, about the year 1834, entered into a bargain with him, the spirit of which was that for the right to procure wood and water for his ship while at Cloudy Bay, the captain was to present the tribe with a ship's cannon,[145] which he had then with him at Kapiti. The conditions of this bargain were reduced to writing by Blenkinsopp, but not the bargain Te Rauparaha had counted upon. For wood and water, Ocean Bay and the magnificent Wairau Plain were substituted in the deed; and Rauparaha, with that reckless disregard for the value of his signature which he exhibited at all times when fire-arms were concerned, had signed it with the lines of his moko.

The Wairau Plain is the floor of the valley through which the Wairau River runs. Terminating on the shores of Cloudy Bay, it recedes in ever-increasing elevation and diminishing breadth back for many miles, until it vanishes in the gorge at the foot of the Spencer Range. Covering an area of 65,000 acres, it comprises some of the richest agricultural and pastoral land in the Middle Island, and was at this time treasured by Rauparaha as one of his principal food-producing centres. Eager as he was to procure weapons with which to slaughter his enemies, he was equally sensible of the value of this valley; and it is scarcely reasonable to suppose that he would have parted with so rich an estate for a single piece of rusty artillery, subject to the additional disadvantage of the difficulty involved in its transport. Knowing that he was, for such purposes, ignorant of the English language, Blenkinsopp, with a touch of irony, presented Te Rauparaha with a copy of the deed, and told him to show it to any captain of a man-o'-war who might visit Kapiti. Te Rauparaha did not wait for a naval officer, but gave the document to a whaler protege of his, named Hawes, then living at his island fortress. Hawes explained to Rauparaha that by the deed he had parted with all his land at the Wairau: whereupon the chief, in a fit of anger, tore up the paper, threw the fragments into the fire, and declared that, so far as he was concerned, the contract was at an end. Not so with Blenkinsopp. He sailed to Sydney, and there proceeded to raise a substantial sum of money upon the security of his deed from a solicitor named Unwin, then practising in that city. For reasons which need not be discussed here, Mr. Unwin eventually claimed the valley as his own; and his attempt to occupy the district, its disastrous failure, culminating in the massacre at the Wairau Bar, in 1840, of his manager and all his men, are now matters of history, affording another instance of how the just sometimes suffer for the unjust. Nor were the deception of Mr. Unwin and the death of Mr. Wilton and his fellow employees the full measure of the toll exacted as the result of Blenkinsopp's perfidy. When Colonel Wakefield met at Hokianga the native woman who had formerly been Captain Blenkinsopp's wife, and was now his widow, she showed him a document which purported to be the original deed to which her late husband had secured Te Rauparaha's signature. As a matter of fact, the document was no more than a copy which had been left amongst the captain's papers, but, believing it to be genuine, Wakefield purchased it for £300;[146] and it was largely on this spurious foundation that his brother, Captain Wakefield, subsequently, and with such fatal results, sought to build up the New Zealand Company's claim to the Wairau. This transaction, in which Captain Blenkinsopp was so scandalously concerned, was but typical of many another, by which the credulity of the natives was cunningly exploited. Their influence had, however, been so far comparatively harmless, and the measure of injury they had inflicted had told more heavily upon the unscrupulous speculators than upon the natives.

But now Te Rauparaha, and those tribes with whom he was associated, were about to be brought into contact, and to some extent into conflict, with a more persistent earth-hunger, and more powerful land-buyers, than any which had yet operated upon the coasts of New Zealand. The spirit of colonisation was abroad in England, and the restless genius of Edward Gibbon Wakefield[147] was busy coining schemes whereby the spirit of the hour might be embodied in action. Canada and South Australia had each attracted his attention; and now his eyes were turned to New Zealand as a field suitable for the planting of his quasi-philanthropic projects. His writings upon the subject of colonisation had drawn within the circle of his influence a galaxy of men, whose liberal education, lofty ideals, and generous impulses had earned for them the title of "philosophic radicals," and with these men, who stood for the most advanced development of English political aspiration, as its sponsors, the New Zealand Company was founded in 1839. With the story of this Company's early political troubles we are not concerned, for they bear only slightly on subsequent events in New Zealand. But the central fact with which we are concerned is that the Company was established for the purpose of acquiring land from the natives and transporting emigrants from England to settle thereon. To this end, the expeditionary ship Tory was hurriedly despatched from the Thames, and arrived safely in New Zealand waters, bringing with her Colonel Wakefield, brother of the founder of the Company, with a staff of officers charged with the duty of conducting the negotiations for the purchase of land and arranging other preliminaries—which appeared to be regarded in the light of mere formalities—incidental to the introduction of a great colonising scheme. In furtherance of her mission, the Tory paid a brief visit to Queen Charlotte Sound and Port Nicholson, and reached Kapiti on October 16, 1839, the day on which Ngati-Raukawa had been routed by Ngati-Awa at the fight of Kuititanga.

The first tidings of this engagement was brought to the officers of the Tory by a canoe-crew of natives who had just left the scene of strife; and although the sea was high, a boat's company had been organised, and was on the point of starting for the battlefield, when a message came from Te Rauparaha, who had returned to Evans' Island, that he wished them to pay him the honour of a visit. Accordingly, the course of the boat was deflected to the island, and there the chiefs of the two races met for the first time. Te Rauparaha was sitting upon the ground beside his wife, a woman who has been described as being of the "Meg Merrilies" type. He was deeply smeared with red ochre, and evidently in an uneasy frame of mind. His manner was restless, his glance furtive, and he was obviously depressed at the result of the battle. As Colonel Wakefield and his party approached, Te Rauparaha rose and hastened to exchange with them the missionary greeting, shaking them by the hand. With equal alacrity he sought to convince them that he had been in no way concerned in promoting the fight. In these protestations it cannot be said that he was in the least successful, for the Englishmen had already been prejudiced against him by the tales of his duplicity told them by both whalers and Ngati-Awas at Cloudy Bay; whilst his wandering, distrustful glances, as he spoke, were not calculated to inspire confidence. Though, on the whole, his conduct was unsatisfactory, the interview was occasionally illumined by flashes of his imperious nature, the inborn power to lead and command momentarily asserting itself, only to be again clouded by a mean cringing, which seemed to bespeak a craven spirit.