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

The pa was now alive with men and women, for the day was well on, and the audacious cupidity of Te Pehi aroused both astonishment and anger. As he strode towards the gate, he had to pass a group of excited onlookers sitting in the marae, or open space which served the purpose of a sports ground. One of these, Moimoi, rose and challenged Te Pehi's right to purloin his greenstone in that unceremonious fashion. With scorn unspeakable, Te Pehi turned upon his interrogator, and in tones of bitter contempt inquired by what right he, a menial, dared to call in question the actions of a chief. "You of the crooked tattoo, what use would your ugly head be to me if I were to carry it back with me to Kapiti? It would be worth nothing towards the purchase of a musket. But," said he, turning to a stalwart native standing near by, "here is a man whose head would be worth the taking, but you with the worthless head, how dare you cavil at the actions of the great Te Pehi?" The slighting reference to the inartistic facial decoration of Moimoi was intended to be particularly insulting, for every native was wont to pride himself upon the completeness of his moko, and Te Pehi had good reason to regard himself as something of an authority upon this branch of Maori art, for his own tattoo was more than usually elaborate. But the most alarming portion of his taunt was his thinly-veiled reference to the sale of Moimoi's head. Every one knew that at this period a considerable traffic had sprung up in native heads,89 which were preserved by a crude process and traded away to Europeans in exchange for muskets. Te Pehi's reference to the matter could, then, only be taken as an indication that during his visits to the pa he had lent his eye to business, and, in this connection, business meant the assault and sacking of the fortress. The full force of this indiscreet admission had flashed upon the astonished listeners; but, before they could reply, their attention was diverted from the arrogance of Te Pehi by another incident which had occurred at the Hiaka-rere gate. Pokaitara, one of Te Rauparaha's most intrepid lieutenants, had approached this entrance, and was seeking admission to the pa, which was being denied him. Observing who the visitor was, Rongotara, the superior resident chief of Kaiapoi, ordered the keeper of the gate to admit him, exclaiming as he did so, "Welcome my younger brother's lord," a reference to the fact that Rongotara's brother had been made a prisoner at Omihi by Pokaitara, and was at that moment in his keeping. The gate was immediately thrown open; but the Ngati-Toa had no sooner bent his head beneath the portal than Rongotara dealt him a crushing blow with his miti, or stone club, which he was carrying in his hand, and the lifeless body fell with a heavy thud to the ground.

It was this opening episode in the Ngai-Tahu policy of checkmate which had suddenly diverted attention from Te Pehi. But the incident had been as visible to him as to those around him, and the moment he saw it, the critical nature of his own position dawned upon him, and, taking no further thought of the greenstone, he sprang with the agility of a tiger towards the south-western angle of the palisading, and commenced to scramble up the wall by clutching the vines which bound the upright posts together. His plunge for safety would probably have proved successful – for several shots which were fired at him flew wide of the mark – had not Tangatahara, a Ngai-Tahu warrior of great strength and personal courage, closed with him, and, pulling him to the ground, despatched him with a blow from his tomahawk.90 The other northern chiefs who were in the pa were apprised of the mêlée which was proceeding by the sound of the fire-arms discharged against Te Pehi, and were not slow to grasp the situation. Realising that they had been trapped, they knew that it would be of little use attempting to escape by the regular gateways, which were all securely guarded; and, with one exception, those who were free to do so flew to the walls, hoping to scale them, and so get safely to their camp. But they were for the most part either overpowered by numbers and tomahawked on the spot, or were shot while scrambling up the aka vines. The exception referred to was Te Aratangata, who happened to be at the northern end of the pa, and was at this juncture bargaining to secure a famous greenstone mere called by the Ngai-Tahu people "Te Rau-hikihiki." The moment he saw what was happening, he dashed toward the gate Huirapa, hoping to force his way past the guard, who, he supposed, could offer but feeble resistance to his own exceptional strength, courage, and skill.

There is every reason to believe that Rongotara rather precipitated matters by killing Pokaitara at the gate, as it had been decided that an attempt should first be made to induce the great Te Rauparaha himself to enter the pa, in the hope of including him in the holocaust. Still, the plans of the Kaiapoi chiefs were sufficiently mature to meet the emergency when it suddenly arose; and so Te Aratangata discovered to his alarm that, although he was at the further end of the pa from that at which Te Pehi had been attacked, he was just as closely surrounded by enemies. When he started for the gate, he had virtually to fight every inch of the way. He had little difficulty in disposing of the first few who intercepted his path; but, as he drew nearer to the gate, his assailants increased, and before he had struggled on many yards he was attacked by over twenty persons armed with all manner of weapons. Against those who ventured at close quarters he valiantly defended himself with his mere, all the time pressing on towards the gate. A gun-shot wound temporarily checked his onward course, and he was soon further handicapped by several spear-thrusts, which left the spears dangling in the fleshy parts of his body, and from which he found it impossible to disengage himself, pressed as he was on every side. These difficulties perceptibly weakened his defence, but he was still able to fight on, keeping his opponents at bay by swift and desperate blows with his mere, which, up to this moment, had accounted for all who had ventured within his reach. The brave Ngati-Toa had now reached within a few paces of the gate, and may have even yet had dreams of escape, when the crowning disaster came in the breaking of his mere. A shot, which had been intended for his body, struck the greenstone blade, and shattered the faithful weapon into a hundred fragments, leaving only the butt in Aratangata's hand. Now utterly defenceless, weakened by his wounds, and hampered by the dragging spears, the undaunted chief turned upon his assailants, and, with his last strength, grappled with those who came within his reach. The unequal struggle could not, however, be long maintained. Emboldened by his helpless condition, his pursuers pressed in upon him with angry tumult, and he was borne to the ground by Te Koreke, who finished the deadly work with a succession of blows with his tomahawk upon the prostrate warrior's head and neck.

So fell Te Aratangata, and so fell the flower of the Ngati-Toa tribe that day. In all, eight great chiefs91 were killed, who, by their heroism on the field and their sagacity in council, had materially aided Te Rauparaha in all his great achievements. They had added brilliancy to his battles, lustre to his victories, and had lent a wisdom to his administration, whereby the fruits of his enterprise had not been wasted by internecine strife. So dire a tragedy as the death of the princes of his tribe was a great blow to Te Rauparaha. But it is doubtful whether the sacrifice of so much mental and physical fibre was more keenly felt by the Ngati-Toa chief than the loss of prestige and damage to his reputation, which he might reasonably apprehend from his being outwitted at his own game, and that, too, by a people whom he had hitherto despised as opponents. That they would turn upon him in what he chose to regard as an unprovoked attack was something which was not reckoned upon in his philosophy, for he had trusted to his blandishments to soothe away their suspicions, or to his great name and reputation to awe them into submission. And when the blow fell, and he saw his patiently laid plans tumbling about his ears, he received the result with mingled feelings of surprise, indignation, and something akin to dismay. In this frame of mind he deemed it expedient to anticipate any further unexpected eventualities by withdrawing his force and making good his retreat with as little delay as possible. Consequently his camp was at once broken up, and the little army made its dejected way across the plain to Double Corner, where the canoes had been left, and next day Te Rauparaha set sail for Omihi and Kapiti, having, as the result of his first raid upon Kaiapoi,92 added neither greenstone to his treasure nor glory to his reputation as a warrior.

For the better part of two years Te Rauparaha nursed his wrath against Ngai-Tahu, and spent the intervening time in devising schemes whereby he might secure a vengeance commensurate with the disgrace of his repulse and the death of his well-loved friends. One thing on which he had fully determined was that Ngai-Tahu should pay for their temerity with the purest of their blood, for he would take no plebeian in payment for so royal a soul as Te Pehi. His schemes were therefore directed against the life of Tamaiharanui,93 who has already been described as the embodiment of spiritual and temporal power in the southern tribe. He was the hereditary representative of all that stood for nobility amongst the sons of Tahu. His person was regarded as so sacred that the common people scarcely dared to look upon his face. He could only be addressed by his fellow-chiefs with the greatest deference and in the most reverential language; and if, while passing through the congested streets of a village, his shadow should fall upon a whata or a rua, the storehouse and its contents would be immediately destroyed, to prevent the sacrilege of a tribesman consuming food upon which even the shade of so sacred a personage had lighted. Indeed, so sanctified and ceremonious an individual was he, that his presence was sometimes oppressive to those who were not accustomed to live in an atmosphere of ritual; for the slightest disregard of what was due to one so endowed with the spirit of the gods might involve them at any moment in the loss of possessions, and even of life.

To secure so eminent a scion of Ngai-Tahu aristocracy would be a trophy indeed; but Te Rauparaha knew that it was no ordinary task that he was contemplating. An attack upon regular lines might easily defeat its own purpose, for a chief so sacred to the tribe as Tamaiharanui would scarcely be permitted to sacrifice himself upon the field of battle, even if his own inclinations impelled him to lead his people, a point of personal courage by no means too well established.94 Strategy must therefore be employed, and it must be strategy of the most delicate kind, for, in the naïve language of the younger Te Rauparaha, "the chief must be enticed, even as the kaka is enticed." For the scheme which was finally adopted it has been claimed that Te Rauparaha was not originally responsible, but that the idea was first conceived by a relative of his, named Hohepa Tama-i-hengia, who had been working on board a whaler in the southern latitudes, and heard the story of Te Pehi's death on the ship calling in at a bay on the coast of Otago. Hohepa, who, in his contact with the European, had lost none of that eternal thirst for revenge which marked the ancient Maori, at once besought the captain to employ his vessel in the capture of Tamaiharanui, promising a large reward from Te Rauparaha on his handing over the prisoner at Kapiti. The captain, however, was discouraged in the idea by the rest of the ship's company, who were eager to reach Queen Charlotte Sound, there to resume their whaling operations; and thus the execution of the brilliant suggestion had perforce to be suspended until the ingenious author of it himself reached Kapiti. There the daring plan was laid before the fighting chiefs of the tribe, who were readily convinced of its practicability.

Their first overtures were made to Captain Briggs, whose ship, the Dragon, was then lying at Kapiti. This seaman has, with a frankness amounting to brutality, explained that he ultimately declined their proposals, not because the enterprise was repugnant to him, but because Te Rauparaha insisted upon taking more men with him than he deemed it prudent to carry in his ship. The manner in which the captain of the Dragon was approached was diplomatic in the extreme. The chiefs explained to him that Te Pehi had been to England, and that, as a mark of gratitude for his generous treatment there, he had always been the friend of the English. Tamaiharanui, on the other hand, had killed more white men than any other chief in New Zealand, from which fact they adroitly argued that they and Captain Briggs had a mutual interest in compassing his death. Briggs seems to have been convinced that Tamaiharanui was a "monster," whose death would be a distinct benefit to society, and he unhesitatingly offered to take Te Rauparaha and two of his best men to Akaroa to effect the capture. Te Rauparaha and Te Hiko, however, stipulated for twenty men; but, as the cautious Briggs considered that "this would have given the chiefs more power in the vessel than he cared to part with," he declined further discussion. This rebuff delayed, but did not extinguish, the purpose of the chiefs. They still hoped that other captains would be more amenable to persuasion or more susceptible to reward. There was thus considerable excitement at Kapiti on a certain day towards the close of the year 1830, when a vessel was seen rounding the Taheke Point, and the cry of "A ship, a ship!" was raised from every corner of the settlement. Rauparaha immediately ordered out his canoe, and, putting off with Te Hiko and a full crew, boarded the stranger, which proved to be the British brig Elizabeth of 236 tons, commanded by Captain Stewart.95 The chiefs were fortunate in the type of man with whom they had come to negotiate. Stewart was one of the semi-buccaneer breed, who, at this period, were all too common in these waters, and whose depredations have contributed so many of the ugly pages of our country's history. Nor was this case to be an exception. Before committing himself, however, Stewart took the precaution of consulting Captain Briggs, who advised him not to undertake to carry more natives on board than he could safely control. But this counsel96 was not followed, and a bargain was eventually struck, whereby it was agreed that the captain was to carry the chiefs and their party to Whanga-roa (now Akaroa) Harbour in Banks's Peninsula, in consideration for which he was to receive fifty tons of dressed flax – valued roughly at £1,200 – immediately upon his return to Kapiti. The conclusion of this contract gave intense satisfaction to the chiefs, and according to his son, "the heart of Te Rauparaha lived in joy."

Some of the apologists for Captain Stewart have endeavoured to show that he was not made fully aware of the real intentions of the chiefs, and that, when the savage purpose of the voyage was borne in upon him, he was then powerless to avert the tragic scenes which were afterwards enacted. It has been further urged in extenuation of his crime that, when he arrived on the coast of New Zealand, he discovered to his dismay that his cargo was totally unsuitable to excite trade with the natives, and that he was, therefore, constrained, in the interests of his employers, to accept a charter against which there was no law, and which promised a rich and speedy remuneration. What measure of truth there may be in the former defence it is now difficult to determine. It is possible that events developed in a manner and to an extent that had not been contemplated by Stewart; but it must be remembered that he had discussed with due deliberation the whole project with his friend Captain Briggs, and that, if he afterwards found himself powerless to control the passions of his charterers, the blame was entirely his own for disdaining the advice of his fellow captain regarding a limitation of numbers. As to the unmarketable nature of his cargo, that specious plea is flatly disproved by the ship's manifest. So far from the goods carried being unsuitable for trade, there was scarcely anything brought in the Elizabeth for which the natives were not eagerly craving. Indeed, there is no room to doubt that, had Captain Stewart chosen to confine himself to legitimate commerce, he could have easily bartered his guns and his powder, his flints and his tobacco, for a cargo which would have given his employers an adequate return, without requiring his zeal in their behalf to outrage the feelings of humanity. Similarly, it is scarcely to be supposed that Stewart's knowledge of the law was so wide that he was aware there was no statutory decree prohibiting his entering into this unholy compact. He was clearly just as indifferent to its moral aspect as he was unaware of its legal bearing. Otherwise he would have known that, viewed from this standpoint, there was no distinction between a crime committed against a savage and that perpetrated upon a civilised being. The absence of any law regulating the conduct of individuals placed in such circumstances is no palliation for the outrage which he committed; and, so far from his being unwittingly led into an error of judgment, his treatment of Tamaiharanui after his capture dispels any supposition that he had repented of his bargain, or that he was in the least degree revolted by the excesses of the natives. Having regard to these facts, the impression conveyed by a study of the general character of the man, as revealed by his actions, is, that the purpose of the voyage would not have caused him much scruple, so long as the reward was ample and easily obtained. Howbeit, a few days after the bargain was struck, he received on board his vessel Te Rauparaha and one hundred and seventy of his followers, accompanied by five of his remaining lieutenants – Te Rangihaeata, Te Hiko, Tungia, and Tama-i-hengia, and on October 29th set sail for Banks's Peninsula.

The voyage appears to have been propitious enough, for, in due course, the vessel arrived at Whanga-roa Harbour, on the shores of which then stood the Takapuneke pa, and now nestles the sequestered town of Akaroa.97 The coming of a ship was an event much more rare at Akaroa than it was at Kapiti, and, consequently, the natives of the pa were stirred to the highest pitch of excitement, and desired to enter into immediate trade with the vessel, which they misjudged to be an honest whaler.98 Meanwhile Te Rauparaha had carefully concealed all his men beneath the hatches, and enjoined upon them the strictest seclusion; for the success of his scheme altogether depended upon the concealment of the fact that a force of natives was on board. Acting under instructions from the chief, Captain Stewart, through his interpreter, forbade any of the resident natives to board the Elizabeth until Tamaiharanui had returned; for it so happened that, at the time of the brig's arrival at Akaroa, that chief was absent from his pa, superintending the preparation of a cargo of flax which he had sold to an English captain. A message was accordingly despatched to Wairewa, urging him to come and see a pakeha who was eager to trade. It was not, however, till the eighth day that Tama arrived, and, during all that time, the Ngati-Toa warriors had been cooped up under the hatches, being permitted only a few minutes on deck under the cover of darkness. These precautions prevented any suspicion reaching the shore; and yet some doubt seems to have lurked in the minds of the resident people, for they eagerly inquired of Cowell, the interpreter, whether there were any natives on board, and were put off with the laughing assurance that such was impossible, as the vessel had just come down from Sydney. This statement was seemingly fair enough; but, if Sydney was the last port of call, how came those hutiwai burrs clinging to the clothes of some of the crew, which a keen-eyed native had just espied? Hutiwai burrs do not grow in Sydney, nor upon the broad ocean. Then the lie that came handiest was that on the way down they had called at the Bay of Islands, and the sailors had probably picked up the burrs while carousing on shore. The evasion, however palpable, was at least successful in silencing the doubts which were just growing to dangerous proportions in the minds of Tamaiharanui's people, and the incident had no influence in cooling their ardour for trade, for further messengers were shortly afterwards despatched to hasten their chief's coming. When Tamaiharanui came, he brought with him his wife, Te Whe, his sister, and his little daughter Ngaroimata,99 a name full of pathetic suggestion. He was cordially welcomed by the captain, who invited him to his cabin below with every show of courtesy and hospitality. But no sooner was the chief seated than the door opened, and, to his intense amazement, his mortal enemies, Te Rauparaha and Te Hiko, stood before him. To overpower and bind him was the work of but a few moments, and then the Ngati-Toa let loose upon him the full flood of their invective, taunting him in bitter scorn with his infantile simplicity in falling so easily into their trap. Te Hiko added insult to injury by advancing and drawing back the captive's upper lip, sneeringly remarking, "So these are the teeth which ate my father."

In all innocence of what was passing within the cabin, the followers of Tamaiharanui swarmed round the ship's side in their canoes, clamouring for admission, so that they might trade for the needful guns and casks of powder. This permission was granted to a few at a time, who, immediately they reached the deck, were conducted by the crew to the open hatchway and promptly shoved headlong into the hold, where they were secured by Te Rauparaha's men and made prisoners as easily and as simply as their chief had been. The failure of these people to return to the shore evidently did not excite any uneasiness. It was no uncommon thing for natives visiting a ship in the offing to remain for several days, or even longer, if their presence could be tolerated. Events were thus playing into the hands of Te Rauparaha more effectually even than he might have reasonably expected; and so, on the evening of the second day after the capture of Tamaiharanui, having secured all the visitors to the ship, he was now in a position to deal with those who had remained on land. Boats were accordingly got out some hours after nightfall, and a strong and well-armed party was sent ashore to attack the Takapuneke pa. Ngai-Tahu accounts of this fight would have us believe that an heroic resistance was offered to a cyclonic assault; but the circumstances render such an account most improbable. The place was not a fighting pa, and for the purposes of war was practically defenceless. The people, too, were awakened from their sleep by the tumult of the attack, and, shorn as they were of their leaders and their warriors, there was little hope of any organised defence being made. The attack therefore became a rout, and the rout a massacre; and before morning broke the people of Akaroa were either helpless captives, bound in the evil-smelling hold of a ship, fugitives flying for dear life, or lying dead amongst the smoking ruins of their ancestral home.

Having achieved a complete success, Te Rauparaha collected a quantity of human flesh for consumption on the voyage, and set sail for Kapiti, where the final scene in the tragedy was to be enacted. Tamaiharanui and his family were housed in one of the fore cabins, and apparently some degree of liberty was permitted him, for on the first night out from Akaroa,100 he, after consultation with his wife, seized a favourable opportunity to strangle his little daughter as she lay asleep, and afterwards cast the lifeless body into the sea. This extreme course he justified to his conscience as averting the eternal disgrace of her ever becoming the wife of one of his enemies. His unnatural action, however, had the effect of rousing the fury of his captors.101 Fearing that his next step would be to take his own life, and so deprive them of the legitimate fruits of their mission, they took immediate and adequate precautions by pinioning him fast in a position which caused him exquisite torture, and his sufferings they watched with intense delight. On the voyage northward high revels were kept by the natives, who, if the interpreter's testimony is to be credited, were even permitted to cook the flesh of their victims in the ship's coppers, without protest from the captain or any of his equally degenerate crew.