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

Kaiapoi having now fallen, and the dispersal of its people being complete, Te Rauparaha might have reasonably retired from the scene, satisfied with the laurels which his conquest had brought him. But it would seem that lust of victory and greed of revenge were in him insatiable. He knew that there were still some well-populated pas on Banks's Peninsula, and he was determined not to return to Kapiti until he had reduced them also. The canoes which had been damaged by Taiaroa were, therefore, repaired with all possible speed, and, after provision had been made for the prisoners who were to be taken to Kapiti, the remaining canoes were directed to proceed to Banks's Peninsula. A small pa on Ri-papa Island, in Lyttelton Harbour, was first attacked and reduced, and then the canoes were steered for Akaroa, from which point the war party was to move to the assault of Onawe. This pa had been but recently constructed, and owed its existence to the widespread dread which the name of Te Rauparaha had now inspired. When it was known on the peninsula that he had laid siege to Kaiapoi, a feeling of insecurity crept over the natives there, who were seized with a grave presentiment that their turn might come soon. And how inadequate were their small and isolated pas to withstand the shock of assault or the stress of siege! They accordingly hastened to concentrate their forces in one central pa, and the spirit-haunted hill of Onawe124 was the point selected for a united stand. The pa, which was built upon the pear-shaped promontory which juts out into the Akaroa Harbour, dividing its upper portion into two bays, was both extensive and strong, and into its construction several new features were imported, to meet the altered conditions of warfare caused by the introduction of fire-arms.

With the fall of Kaiapoi, the alarms and panics to which the people of the peninsula had been subjected through Te Rauparaha's foraging parties were brought to an end, and they then knew that their worst fears were about to be realised. On the day after the sack of the pa, a few of the fugitives had arrived at Onawe with the doleful intelligence that the fortress had fallen, and that, so far as they could gather, the northern canoes were at that very moment being made sea-worthy, for the purpose of conveying the victors to Akaroa. Hurried messengers were then sent to all the outlying pas, calling the people in to Onawe, and preparations were at once made to resist the impending attack. Tangatahara, who, it will be remembered, had been the immediate cause of Te Pehi's death, was placed in chief command, with Puka and Potahi as his subordinate chiefs. The garrison, which consisted of about four hundred warriors, was reasonably well equipped for the struggle, for they had been moderately successful in securing fire-arms from the whalers, and those who did not carry muskets were at least able to flourish steel hatchets. In these circumstances, Te Rauparaha found them a much more formidable foe than had been the Muaupoko of Horowhenua, or the Ngati-Apa of Rangitikei. There he had all the advantage of arms; here he was being opposed on almost even terms; but there still remained in his favour a balance of spirit, courage, and tenacity of purpose. In the matter of provisions the pa was well provided against a protracted siege, while one of the features of the new fortification was a covered way, which led to a never-failing spring on the southern side of the promontory. Scarcely were the people gathered within the pa, and all the preparations for its defence completed, than the sentinels posted on the lookout descried, in the early morning, the northern fleet sweeping up the harbour. The alarm was at once given, and every man sprang to his post to await the oncoming. The canoes paddled to the shore below the pa, and there Te Rauparaha committed an error in tactics, the like of which can seldom be laid to his charge. He had hoped that, by his early arrival, he would have been able to take the garrison by surprise and effect an easy victory; but in this the vigilance of the defenders had frustrated him, and he therefore decided to delay the attack. In the meantime, he permitted his men to land, but unwisely allowed them to become separated. The Ngati-Toa and Ngati-Raukawa went to what is now known as Barry's Bay, and Ngati-Awa occupied the beach at the head of the harbour. In these positions respectively the sections of the invaders immediately began to establish their camps, and numerous fires, eloquent of the morning meal, were soon smoking on the shore.

Tangatahara saw with some satisfaction the disposition of the enemy, and shrewdly determined to profit by the advantage which their want of cohesion gave him. He resolved upon the manœuvre of first attacking Ngati-Awa, in the hope that he might defeat them before Te Rauparaha could come to their assistance, and then he would be able to turn upon the unsupported Ngati-Toa and drive them back to the sea. But either Tangatahara was much mistaken in his calculations or his directions were only indifferently executed, for his manœuvre failed ignominiously. As his men sallied out of the pa, their movements were noticed by the sentries of Te Rauparaha, who lost no time in communicating the fact to their leader. Instantly, the Ngati-Toa camp was in a state of intense excitement; every warrior dropped his immediate employment and rushed to secure his belt and arms. When equipped, they went off in hot haste, floundering through slime and soft mud, to reinforce the threatened Ngati-Awa. Tangatahara, seeing that his movement was observed and understood, hesitated and was lost. A halt was called, and, while his men stood in indecision upon the hill-side, the advancing Ngati-Toa opened fire upon them with fatal effect. Tahatiti was the first to fall, and several were wounded as the result of the opening volley. The Ngai-Tahu then began to fall back, firing the while; but their musketry failed to check the onrush of Te Rauparaha's veterans, who were now thoroughly seasoned to the rattle of bullets and the smell of powder. The retreat to the pa was safely conducted; but, for some reason, the defenders did not immediately pass through the gates and shut them against the invaders. They continued to linger outside, possibly to watch with greater ease the approach of the enemy. As they were thus engaged, a number of the captives taken by Te Rauparaha at Kaiapoi suddenly came over the brow of the hill and entered into conversation with those of their own kin who were still outside the gates. During this friendly parley, Te Rauparaha came boldly up to the walls with his own followers and demanded the surrender of the pa. Those within the walls were now placed in the dilemma that they could not fire upon the enemy without imperilling the lives of their own friends; and it was equally unsafe to open the gates to admit them, as the besiegers might rush in with an impetuosity that could not be resisted. In these circumstances the parley was continued, Te Rauparaha pointing to the presence of so many Kaiapoi notables as a living evidence of his clemency, while the captive Ngai-Tahu joined with him in advising the policy of surrender, chiefly, no doubt, through a jealous apprehension that the inhabitants of Onawe might escape the misfortune and disgrace which had befallen themselves.

Thus the battle, which had opened with visions of courage, degenerated into a war of words, of which the best that can be said is that the insincerity of the invaders was only equalled by the indecision of the defenders. Only one man in the pa appeared to have a clear idea of what his duty was. This was Puaka, who, recognising Te Rauparaha amongst the crowd, pushed his gun through a loophole, took aim, and fired almost point-blank at the chief, whose miraculous escape was due to the fact that one of the Kaiapoi captives, who was standing close to Puaka, pushed the muzzle of the musket aside just in time to deflect the shot. As might be supposed, the incident served only to intensify the confusion and disorder. Some of the invaders seized a moment's want of vigilance on the part of the sentries at the gate to force an entrance into the pa, where they commenced killing every one around them. All the brave vows which had brought the Onawe pa into existence were then forgotten, and the high hopes which its fancied strength had inspired were shattered in this moment of supreme trial, which revealed in all its nakedness the inherent weakness of the Ngai-Tahu character. Panic seized the people, and for some time the pa was the scene of the wildest confusion. Here and there a brave show of resistance was offered; but for the most part the defenders were too dazed at the swiftness of the Ngati-Toa rush even to stand to their arms, which, in their distraction, numbers of them even threw away. Of those outside the pa, not a few dashed for the bush as soon as the fighting commenced, and made good their escape. But those within the walls were caught like rats in a trap; and, during the conflict, the shrieks and imprecations of the miserable fugitives were mingled with the hoarse shouts of the victors, as they rushed bleeding and half naked from one place of fancied security to another. The conquest of Onawe, though swift, was none the less sanguinary. After the last vestige of resistance had been stamped out, the prisoners were collected and taken down to a flax-covered flat. There the old and the young, the weak and the strong, were picked out from their trembling ranks; and, at the command of the chief, those who from excessive youth or extreme age were regarded as valueless were at once sacrificed to the manes of the dead, while the more robust were preserved as trophies of the victory.

For a few days following the fall of Onawe, the surrounding hills and forests were scoured by the restless victors, in search of such unhappy fugitives as might be found lurking in the secret places of the bush. Few, however, were captured, and in some instances successful retaliation reversed the fortune of the chase, and the pursuers became the pursued. When the prospect of further captures was exhausted, the northern warriors asked for and obtained leave to return to their homes, and the canoes, with the exception of that of Te Hiko, immediately put to sea, a rendezvous being appointed for them at Cloudy Bay. Te Hiko was detained by the fact that his canoe stood in need of repair, and, during the operation, an incident occurred which justified the high estimate of his character which was subsequently formed by many of the earliest colonists.125 He was the son of Te Pehi, whose death two years before was the immediate and avowed cause of this southern raid. If, then, the fires of hate and fury against Ngai-Tahu had burned more fiercely within him than in others of his tribe, there might have been some justification for it. But Te Hiko proved to be more chivalrous than many who had received less provocation. Amongst the prisoners who had fallen into his hands at the taking of Onawe was Tangatahara, the commander of the fortress, who, it will be remembered, had been the most active agent in causing the death of Te Hiko's father. What ultimate fate was intended for Tangatahara is uncertain, but he was fortunate enough to be spared an immediate death. He was, however, closely guarded; and, as he was sitting on the beach surrounded by Ngati-Raukawa warriors, two of the women who had accompanied Te Rauparaha's forces espied him, and immediately put in a claim to Te Hiko for his death, in compensation for the injury which the captive chief had caused them. The claim, though clamorously made, was firmly resisted by Te Hiko who endeavoured first to persuade and then to bribe them, by a gift of rich food, into a more reasonable frame of mind. Neither his blandishments nor his bribes were successful in appeasing their desire for the captive's life; and it was not until Te Hiko gave them plainly to understand that he was determined not to give his prisoner over as a sacrifice to them, and that he regarded his authority as outraged by their persistency, that they sullenly consented to compromise their claim. What they now asked was the right to debase the chief by using his head as a relish for their kauru, a vegetable substance which a Maori chewed, much as an American chews gum or tobacco. To this modified proposal Te Hiko reluctantly consented, and the women, approaching the captive, struck his head twice with their kauru, which they proceeded to masticate with enhanced enjoyment because of the flavour which it was thought to derive from his degradation.

Though he had thus far humoured the women, the want of consideration shown by them for his position as a chief so incensed Te Hiko that he there and then determined to release his prisoner, and so prevent his authority in regard to him being flouted by irresponsible personages. That night he roused Tangatahara from his sleep, and, taking him to the edge of the bush, bade him escape, a command which he was not slow to obey, nor found it difficult to fulfil.126

CHAPTER VI

THE SMOKING FLAX

The conquest of the southern districts being now completed, and the winter months approaching, the whole of the northern fleet took its departure for Cloudy Bay, where, according to the records of the whalers who were there at the time, scenes of the wildest excitement prevailed for many days, and the unhappy condition of the captives was observed with much compassion by persons who were powerless to intervene. From Cloudy Bay the main body of the conquerors passed over to Kapiti, and there the scenes of unbridled ferocity were resumed, until sufficient slaves had been killed and eaten to fittingly honour the returning warriors. These rejoicings at an end, Te Rauparaha set himself to seriously administer the affairs of his own people, which were always in danger of violent disturbance, due to the mutual jealousies of the tribes when not preoccupied by the excitement of war. This work of domestic management almost wholly absorbed his attention during the next few years; and it was fortunate for the Kaiapoi captives that he had so much on hand, as the pressure of circumstances and the stress of inter-tribal complications more than once compelled him to treat them with greater consideration than might otherwise have been their lot. While these events were proceeding in the North Island, the Maoris in the south were slowly reorganising their forces. The majority of the fugitives from Kaiapoi and Onawe had travelled southward until they reached Taiaroa's settlement at Otago, where, under his guidance, they began to formulate their plans for avenging their many humiliations. Amongst these fugitives was Tu-te-hounuku, the son of the treacherously captured Tamaiharanui, who, recognising that his own people were not equal to the task of accomplishing vengeance, sought the aid of the great Otago warrior, and chief of Ruapuke, Tu-Hawaiki. This chief had received from the whalers the startling appellation of "Bloody Jack,"127 not so much because of his sanguinary disposition as from the lurid nature of his language. He was a warrior of the progressive type, who at once saw the advantage of intimate intercourse with the white man; and to this end he made common cause with all the whalers stationed along the coast. He assisted them in their quarrels, and they in return supplied him with the implements of war necessary to overcome his tribal enemies. In this way he managed to acquire the mastery over a large area of country, and to amass a considerable amount of wealth. He owned a small vessel, which was commanded by one of his whaler friends, in which he frequently made trips to Sydney. There he formed an acquaintance with Governor Gipps, who presented him with a number of old military uniforms; and on his return to New Zealand he enrolled a squad of his own tribe, clothed them in the soldiers' garb, drilled them, and on state occasions paraded them as his personal bodyguard, "all the same the Kawana."128 To this enterprising barbarian the prospect of a brush with Rauparaha – or with any one else for that matter – was a most agreeable one, and so the alliance with Tu-te-hounuku was entered upon after the most trifling negotiation.

Although Taiaroa appears to have taken some part in organising the expedition, he did not accompany it. The leadership was therefore entrusted to Tu-Hawaiki, who came and secreted himself in the vicinity of Cape Campbell, being thus favourably situated for an attack upon the Ngati-Toa, who now had entire control of the northern portion of the Middle Island, where a section of their people were continuously settled. Moreover, it had become one of their practices to visit Lake Grasmere for the purpose of snaring the paradise duck, which then, as now, made this sheet of water one of their favourite breeding grounds; and it was while upon one of these bird-catching expeditions that Te Rauparaha nearly lost his life. Being intent upon the manipulation of his snares, he was unconscious of the approach from behind the Cape of Tu-Hawaiki and his horde, until, with a savage yell, they pounced upon the unwary Ngati-Toa. For the latter the situation was indeed critical, and all its difficulties were taken in by Rauparaha at a glance. He saw that in point of numbers the odds were terribly against him, and that to stand his ground and fight it out with such a formidable foe could only result in certain death. On the other hand, the chances of escape had been almost completely cut off; for when the party landed at the lake, the canoes, with one exception, were drawn up on the beach, and were now high and dry. The delay in launching these meant the difference between life and death, so closely were they pressed. But fortunately for him, one still remained in the water some distance from the shore; and on observing this solitary gleam of hope, Te Rauparaha swiftly made up his mind that discretion was the better part of valour. He raced for the sea, and, plunging into the surf, swam to the canoe with rapid and powerful strokes, followed by at least forty of his own people. At the canoe a general scramble ensued, in which only the fittest survived, the remainder being left struggling in the water to escape as best they could, or be despatched by their enemies as opportunity offered.

In the meantime, those of the Ngati-Toa who had not been able to plunge into the sea were unceremoniously killed on the spot, and those of the attacking party who were not actively engaged in this sanguinary work at once launched the canoes lying on the Boulder Bank, which divides the lake from the sea, and set off in hot pursuit of the retreating Rauparaha. As might be expected, the chase was a desperate one, each party straining every nerve to defeat the object of the other. Rauparaha, standing in the stern of his canoe, by word and gesture urged the men at the paddles to renewed exertions; not that they required much exhortation, for they knew that their lives depended entirely upon themselves. But, notwithstanding their utmost endeavours, it soon became painfully evident that their pursuers were gaining upon them, owing to the overloaded condition of the canoe. Rauparaha then determined upon a course which can scarcely recommend him to our admiration, although Nature's first law, self-preservation, might be urged in extenuation of his crime. Without further ceremony he ordered half the people in the canoe, many of whom were women and children, to jump overboard, and those who demurred were forcibly compelled to obey.129 Thus relieved of some of its burden, the canoe gradually forged ahead, and the diversion of the pursuers' attention to the jettisoned passengers, who were struggling in the water, enabled Rauparaha to make good his escape to Cloudy Bay. The Ngai-Tahu people are especially proud of this encounter, which they regard as a brilliant victory, and have called it Rua Moa iti, or "The battle of the little Moa's feather."

It could not, of course, be supposed that a man of action, such as Te Rauparaha was, would long remain idle while so black a stain upon his reputation as a warrior remained unavenged. He therefore lost no time in sending his messengers to a branch of the Ngati-Awa tribe, who then resided at the Wairau, soliciting their aid in a mission of retaliation. The request was readily granted, and, with this reinforcement, a war party of considerable strength set sail in their canoes for the karaka groves which grew luxuriantly at O-Rua-Moa Bay, immediately to the south of Cape Campbell, where it was fully expected that the enemy would be resting. In these anticipations they were disappointed. The prey had flown; and if the purpose of the expedition was not to fail utterly, there was nothing for it but to push on until the object of their search was found. They were soon rewarded, for close to the shore, at the mouth of the Flaxbourne River, Tu-Hawaiki and his braves were encamped, and here the gage of battle was thrown down. That the encounter was a desperate one may be judged by the fact that both sides claimed the victory, and they seem to have withdrawn from the combat mutually agreeing that they had each had enough. According to the Ngai-Tahu account, Te Rauparaha's stratagem of sending one hundred and forty men of Ngati-Awa down the steep face of a cliff to cut off Tu-Hawaiki's retreat was successfully circumvented, the flanking party being caught in their own trap and every one of them destroyed. The Ngati-Toa are equally positive that the palm of victory rested with them; but in that event the advantage gained was not sufficiently great to justify them in following it up, for Tu-Hawaiki was allowed to depart next morning unmolested to Kaikoura. On the journey down an incident occurred which betrayed the savage side of this man's nature, and showed how much he deserved, in another sense, the title of the old whalers, when they styled him "Bloody Jack." During the voyage the canoe commanded by Tu-te-hounuku was capsized in a southerly gale, and the young chief was drowned, although every other man was saved. The selfishness of the men in seeking their own safety and letting their leader perish so enraged the fiery Tu-Hawaiki, that as soon as he heard of the accident he ordered the canoes ashore, and with his own hand slew every one of the surviving crew.130

Immediately after this skirmish Te Rauparaha returned to the North Island, where there was urgent need of his presence. With the coming of the Ngati-Awa, Ngati-Ruanui, and other Taranaki tribes, the domestic disagreements, of which he stood in daily dread, began to ferment, and were already breaking out into open rupture. The Ngati-Awa had cast envious eyes upon a piece of country under tillage by Ngati-Raukawa, in the vicinity of Otaki, and were openly boasting of their intention to make it their own. Their cause was espoused by their Taranaki relatives, and even a section of Te Rauparaha's own people threw in their lot with them against their old allies, the Ngati-Raukawa. This defection, which was especially distressing to Te Rauparaha, arose from some act of favouritism – real or fancied – displayed towards Te Whatanui, the great Ngati-Raukawa chief, for whom Te Rauparaha ever felt and showed the highest regard. These strained relations, however, did not break out into actual civil strife until the Ngati-Raukawa people discovered the Ngati-Ruanui malcontents looting their potato-pits at Waikawa. Up to this point the Ngati-Raukawa had borne the pin-pricks of the Taranaki braggarts with some degree of patience; but this act of plunder satisfied them that, unless they were prepared to defend their property, they would soon have no property to defend. They therefore stood no longer upon ceremony, but straightway attacked the Ngati-Ruanui settlement, and thus let slip the dogs of civil war.131 In the conflict which ensued Tauake, a Ngati-Ruanui chief, was killed, an incident which only served to fan the flame of internecine strife, and hostilities of a more or less virulent nature involved all the settlements along the coast from Waikanae to Manawatu. Both sides were equally well armed, for guns and ammunition were now plentiful, the traders having learned the Maori's weakness, and being prepared to pander to it for the sake of cheap cargoes of flax and potatoes. The consequence was that in each skirmish numbers of the belligerents were killed, and Te Rauparaha saw with increasing dismay the havoc wrought amongst his fighting men, and the useless waste of tribal strength which must ensue from these insane proceedings. Only too clearly he realised that, watched as he was by enemies both on the north and to the east, this state of division might at any moment be seized on as an opportunity for attack. His own efforts to reconcile the disputants were unavailing; and when he saw the spirit of insurrection growing and spreading beyond his power of control, he determined upon making an appeal for outside aid. He accordingly dispatched a mission to Taupo, requesting Te Heuheu to bring down a large force wherewith to crush out the seeds of rebellion, by inflicting a telling defeat upon the most turbulent insurgents. Te Heuheu's reply to this appeal was of a practical kind. Within a few months he marched out from Taupo with an effective fighting force of eight hundred men, officered by some of the most famous of his own and the Maungatautari chiefs of that time. Almost immediately upon their arrival on the coast, they, in conjunction with Ngati-Raukawa, proceeded to attack the Ngati-Awa at a pa close to the Otaki River, and for several months the conflict was maintained with fluctuating success. Notwithstanding the numbers brought against them, the Ngati-Awa and Ngati-Ruanui proved themselves stubborn fighters, maintaining their ground with heroic desperation.