The turn which affairs had now taken proved too much for the excitable Te Kemara, who had been the first speaker. He had patiently heard out Heke, Nēne, and Patuone, but unable to longer restrain himself he at this point jumped up and in his lively, breezy manner proceeded to counter the flow of pro-British oratory: "No, no," he shouted. "Who says stay? Go away, return to thine own land. I want my lands returned to me. If thou wilt say, 'Return to that man, Te Kemara, his land,' then it will be good. Let us be all alike. Then, O Governor, remain. But the Governor up, Te Kemara down, low, flat! No, no, no. Besides, where art thou to stay, to dwell? There is no place left for thee."
This exclamation of Te Kemara's drew from Mr. Busby the remark that his house would be occupied by the Governor until a suitable residence could be procured for him, which piece of information served to produce a marked change in the chief's demeanour.
Crossing his hands as though they were locked in handcuffs, he ran up to the Governor, and with eyes flashing with anger, he exclaimed: "Shall I be thus? Say to me, Governor; speak. Like this—eh, like this? Come, come; speak, Governor, Like this—eh?"
Here his manner became distinctly offensive to His Excellency, and one of the chiefs sitting near-by reproached him for his insolence, whereupon he turned one of those violent mental somersaults which all extremists are at times apt to do. Leaping forward, he seized hold of Captain Hobson's hands and shook them heartily, grinning gleefully, while he shouted in the best English he could command, "How d'ye do—eh, Governor? How d'ye do—eh, Mister Governor?" This enquiry he repeated over and over again, the Governor evidently enjoying the joke as much as any one. "This," says Captain Hobson, "occasioned amongst the natives a general expression of applause, and a loud cheer from the Europeans in which the natives joined."
Thus the business of the meeting closed in the most amiable spirit, the further consideration of the momentous question being by general consent adjourned until the following Friday (the 7th), in order that the natives might have one clear day during which to reflect upon the Governor's proposal.[83]
When Captain Hobson and his escort left the meeting they descended the rude pathway cut in the side of the hill, and as they walked towards the beach where their boat lay, the Governor was discussing with Mr. Colenso the printing of the treaty and other kindred matters. They had just reached the boat and were preparing to enter, when their attention was directed to a commotion not far off. They had not discovered the cause of the excitement before a chief, very much out of breath, burst in upon the viceregal party, and, standing directly before the Lieutenant-Governor, gazed intently at him for a few minutes. Then in a loud shrill voice he cried out in wailing tones, "Au e he koroheke! E kore e roa kua mate," and at once fell back into the crowd.
The incident was so sudden in its happening, and was so evidently of personal moment to himself, that Captain Hobson was naturally curious to know its full import. He appealed to Mr. Colenso to kindly interpret the old man's message, but the Missionary, unwilling to enlighten the Governor as to the sinister suggestion conveyed by the grey-headed seer, endeavoured to evade the point by telling him what was perfectly true—that this was an old chief who had just arrived from the interior and was anxious to see the Queen's representative. The explanation, though plausible enough, did not satisfy the Governor, who had a predilection that there was more behind the chief's wild lament than this, and his importunities to know the truth being supported by those of Captain Nias, Mr. Colenso at length had to admit that there was more of prophecy than curiosity in the chief's mournful exclamation: "Alas! an old man. He will soon be dead."
The incident, which had something of comedy in its early features, thus terminated with a tragic note, and the Governor, who had been highly elated at the success of the meeting, pulled off to his ship in a gloomy and meditative mood.
During the remainder of the day[84] a strong effort was made by the beach-combers and whisky-sellers of Kororareka to spread dissension amongst the chiefs, and to prejudice the idea of the Queen's protection; but the Missionaries were whole-hearted in their support, and vigilant to counteract the opposition of these ill-disposed individuals.[85] The good impression created by Heke and Nēne therefore stood, and before the evening had closed there was a preponderating number anxious to sign the treaty.
The Missionaries were equally anxious to take advantage of this favourable feeling, and were now keenly apprehensive that the delay until Friday would be detrimental to the treaty party. They therefore consulted together with a view to expediting the taking of the chiefs' signatures, and concluded that it would be better to do so on the morrow.