RETI THE VOYAGER

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXIII, Issue 22344, 15 February 1936, Page 1 (Supplement)

RETI THE VOYAGER

BY W. GIBBS BECKETT

A SAGA OF THE ANTARCTIC

For generations the Maori had observed the glories of the aurora australis lighting up the southern sky, tribal sages averring that these fiery shafts emanated from the coun-cil-place of the deities, where eternal fires were ablaze.

The name of Reti (Tamarereti) figures large in the most ancient of Maori genealogies. Tales of his dauntless voyaging were told throughout all Polynesia. Who other than he would have set forth into the bleak Antarctic, hoping to wrest the secret of these golden glories from their supernal source? A handsome ocean-going canoe, Te Rua o Maahu, fashioned from the stoutest totara and ornately carved in keeping with the importance of her mission, was furnished with preserved foods and fresh water in preparation for a long voyage. Seventy young chiefs, stalwarts all, volunteered to man the vessel, while two sages also enlisted as special observers. Amid tearful adieus and with due ceremony these neolithic Argonauts at length sailed off to seas hitherto uncrossed by man. Now a vision (mata-kite) had come to Reti, urging him to steer his canoe through the treacherous strait at D'Urville Island, which we pakehas now know as French Pass. No doubt, had the finny form of Pelorous/Jack come nosing ahead of their prow to guide them safely through, these venturers would have welcomed him as a visitor from the gods, but, as it happened, Reti's vision had prepared him for the tricky navigation of this pass. After commanding all his followers to blindfold (kopare) themselves, he set free his tapu cormorant (kawau), which his heavenly patron had promised would guide the canoe unerringly through the placid seas beyond. Southward Already the canoe, tossing drunkenly on the vergo of the tide-rip, was in imminent danger of being cast on the rocks. Reti and his two sages, enjoying the special protection of the gods, studied keenly the llight of the shag. Flying straight aloft and conning the narrow passage for a moment, the bird then without hesitation swooped down again until his wing-tips were skimming the surface of the waves. First he darted to one side of the channel in a diagonal course, and then swung back sharply to the opposite shore. There was not a second to lose. Calling on his blindfold men to ply their paddles, Reti swung his canoe in pursuit. But the shag, in turning again on the opposite side, was dragged down by a leaping wave, to be battered to death in the swirling seas. If we are to believe Maori tradition, ho was transformed into stone and stands there to-day for anyone to see, though pakehas have built a small beacon-light atop of his petrified form. Reti's zigzag course saved the canoe from destruction, and unharmed she swept through to calm waters beyond. Great was the amazement of her crew when they saw what danger they had passed. Once clear of the passage, Reti shaped a course for the Tasman, where, guided by the Southern Cross and neighbouring stars, he stood away for the true south. Let it be emphasised, too, that these hardy souls set forth on their quest in the depth of winter, for that season was adjudged the most suitable for the study of the aurora. So for a great time, while many moons waxed and waned, Reti's gallant crew drove far into frozen latitudes. Day after weary day, week after week, they pushed further into the bitter south. Fierce storms arose, and waves greater than they had ever before seen threatened to overwhelm their frail craft; but in the face of incredible hardships they held to their course, and ever they watched the fascinating lights playing across the night-sky. As they proceeded the days grew gradually shorter, until soon they lived in a world of eternal dark. What suffering and privations they bore in their open canoe will never be known. Frequently they skirted the shores of great ice-islands, while the ever-changing radiance of the southern lights left them spellbound. At times the atmosphere seemed all afire. At length their way was barred by a precipitous cliff of ice standing high above the sea. 111-equipped as they were, it was humanly impossible to push further southward. Tragic Death They tarried awhile to observe these phenomena— and then it was that cruel Fate played her hand. The tinv shrimps abounding in those seas were used by the voyagers for food, and while Reti was one day making a meal of them one lodged in his throat, defying all efforts to remove it, and poor lteti died in the agony of strangulation. Overwhelmed with grief, his followers embalmed his body as best they could, and sadly turned to retrace their course. Through many trials they battled their way, growing weaker and weaker from exposure and lack of food, with some of the less-robust perishing miserably, until many of the crew began to despair of ever again reaching their homeland. Then ono bleak dawn, after they had been sailing for an eternity, so it seemed, the exhausted voyagers at last caught sight of Aotearoa's roast showing faintly on their lee. With what frail strength they could muster they held their looking canoe before the swell and ran for the shore. But they were in no condition to bring her to a safe beaching. Onlookers from the sands watched the sorely-strained canoe as she plunged shoreward. It was obvious she could not live long in such a sea. Crested seas breaking over her straked sides threatened every moment to swamp her. While some of the crow bailed desperately, others strove to keep the canoe's tall stern post true before the running waves. Slowly and uncertainly the foundering craft drew nearer inshore. A band of sturdy warriors Btood by to dash into the surf and haul the crew to safety when —stark tragedy!—a bursting wave swept her sideways on to the cruel fangs of a reef, and in a moment the surge had wiped all sign of the canoe and her crew from existence. Funeral Pyre During the course of the day some bodies drifted inshore, and what remained of the shattered canoe was also recovered. Two men alone showed feeble signs of life. Under skilled attention these were brought to consciousness long enough to tell of their experiences, and from that time the traditional tale of Reti's epic voyage has been passed down from generation to generation. Cast into deep mourning by the loss of their heroes, Reti's tribesmen partly rebuilt To Rua o Maahu, and mounted her on a great pile of brushwood. In tho canoe in a sitting posture were placed the bodies of liqr valiant crew, while on a raised platform in the centre sat the embalmed figure of Tamarereti, tho great navigator. One still night the stars looked down upon a grand sight in barbaric Aotearoa. In the presence of a largo concourse of people the funeral bier was lit from end to end, and to tho accompaniment of weird chanting from tho tohungas, the bodies of their heroes were reduced to ashes. Tho famous canoe Te Rua o Maahu was transferred by the gods, it is said, to the southern polar sky, where a starry cluster marks her final resting-place.