[Eighth Prize.] UTU.

Otago Witness, Issue 2387, 30 November 1899, Page 45 (Supplement)

[Eighth Prize.] UTU.

BY TE TOHUNGA.

(Otago Daily Tiinex ami Wi nesx Christmas Annual IS.Hi Pi he Tale Competition.) HERE was- running to and fro in the pa at Teraha-ahine-atea. Early in the morning Kahua, fishing off" the point, heard through the mist the sound of a paddle, and presently there came Hetau, from Maiiotahi exhausted

— he had paddled all that night and part of the previous day against the wind : famished — he had not eaten for two days ; but with great news. The hapu of Te Putu, of the Ngatimamoe, had come from the south, 200 strong. Avoiding the swift canoes of the Ka-ti-Wairua, at Otakau, and the impregnable fortress of Mapotahi, they were coming overland by swamp and mountain track to Teraka, and would be there in two days. Kahua led the messenger to the chief, Terua Hunui, who heard his story in grave silence, then, ordering food to be cooked for the starved and weary man, set about preparations for defence. The pa, which stood on the present site of the Kartigi lighthouse, had fallen into disrepair, and there was much to do. Stakes and vines were brought from the Moeraki bush to fill up gaps in the palisade ; the great ditch (outside the fence in those days), which had become almost filled up in parts with debris, had to be dug out; food from the outlying storehouses and plantations was brought within the stockade, and many minor details attended to. But, every man and woman working with feverish energy — and even the children assisting, all was finished by the afternoon of the second day, when another messenger arrived to say that Tomaha was coming from Mapotahi in his war canoes with 100 men. It was calm next morning. Save where the outlying reef broke the slumbrous heave of the ground swell into cascades of snowy foam, there was not a ripple on the ocean. From the clumps of bush which here and there relieved with deep green the dull brownish-yellow of the tussock-covered bluff, the bell-like note of the tui rang vibrant through the still air. The sound of the surf faintly punctuated the silence — a sigh, dying away, yet ever renewed — ah, ah-h, ah-h-h. Little lizards ran amongst the yellow grass and brown fern. Yet on the flat below surely a light breeze stirred the flax blades and gently swayed their tall flower stalks. The gate of the pa was open, and thereabout the children played. Not a man was to be seen, and, in attitudes of careless security, women plaited baskets from strips of green flax. Suddenly, as the roar of the tornado succeeds the treacherous tropic calm, a hoarse and mighty shout arose from 200 throats, and from their hiding place among the flax <;ame the warriors of Te i-'utu, armed with spear, and club, and mere, bounding like stags up the steep slope to where the open gate of Teraka seemed to invite their entrance. Shouting, yelling, brandishing their apears, with visages contorted, demoniac, the war party were halfway up the hillwhen from the pa shrilled a loud whistle, and at the signal women and children made for the gate, and reached the shelter of the palisade as Te Putu, swiftest of his band, breasted the crest of the bluff. Now from the gaping mouth of this rude fort poured a flood of armed warriors, which, rolling impetuously down the nillside upon the panting invaders, bore them with resistless force to the flax-grown flat whence they had emerged, aud here a terrific hand-to-hand combat raged until the battlefield was covered with, the dead and dying, and the little pools wherein the tall reeds grew were red with blood. Desperate was the struggle, doubtful seemed the issue. There were but 150 men fit for combat belonging to the Teraka hapu, and the southern warriors were a picked band, selected to carry out a difficult and dangerous enterprise-^to establish themselves in the territory of a powerful enemy by capturing a stronghold, so that thereafter, opening up communication with the south, their people might retake possession of all this goodly land that had belonged to their ancestors. There was no question of truce or quarter. When, after two hours' fighting, the men of Teraka found the battle going against them, those who were left — mo&c of them wounded — fought on with furious energy and a courage that nothing could daunt. Were they not of the lineage of Wairua, the unconquered? But Te Putu and the remnant of his band pressed chem sorely, being encouraged and sustained by the prospect of

a speedy end to their toils, for surely victory was in sight.

A piercing, exultant scream from the hilltop, where the women watched anxiously; an angry, clamorous roar from the rear and the right. The tide of war had turned, and Te Putu's doomed following, facing about, confronted Tomaha and the men of Mapotahi. Vigorous, lustful of blood the newcomers rushed upon their exhausted prey, Terua Hunui and his band, bleeding from many wounds, joining in the assault, and the battle was won. . Te Putu fell beneath the mere of Tomaha, and of those who came from the South but one was spared, and he by order of Tomaha, who threw his mat over him and said ; " 1 have a present to send to Hikoia, the daughter of Thia, she who waits for Te Putu, and this man shall carry it," which speech, being repeated, the old warriors shook their heads, saying : " What new doctrine is this. Shall we, then, send gifts to our enemies? "

Three months later a man, travel-stained, footsore, and having in his thigh an unhealed wound, so that he walked with difficulty, came to the whare of Thia, at Waipapa, and gave to Hikoia a parcel bound round about with green flax, whi ii having opened, the young wife burst into a passion of tears, for it was the head of Te Putu, her husband. But her father smiled, and said : " Child, dry those tears. A thousand moons have waxed and waned since I was born, yet never till now have I seen the head of a chief slain in battle sent to his relatives. Great is the generosity of Tomaha. Take comfort, for iMohoka, thy son, shall live to repay him."

Where the Waitati Cliffs present their cold, stern faces to the lusty caress of the north-east wind and steep their feet in the salt waters of the mighty Pacific, there stood, a hundred years ago, the strong pa of Mapotahi. On the summit of the hill, surrounded on three sides by ditches and palisades, and bounded on the fourth by a precipice 300 ft high, Mapotahi was deemed impregnable. Rocky pathways, narrow and steep, supplemented by wooden ladders, led down to the miniature peninsula of Mateaweawe, a convenient landing , from the fishing canoes, and the last restingplace of the great war vessels Mihiwaka, Wakanui, and Wakataipo, where, the tall flax rustling about their high sterns and carved prows, they rotted serenely away, the roof that once sheltered them having long ago disappeared. The Ngatimamoe, dispersed and broken, had retired to the far south — and no man whispered to his neighbour the name of Rauparaha. Who should disturb their slumber?

In this inaccessible eyrie dwelt the beautiful Hinekura, daughter of Tomaha, the chief. Tall, slender, with delicately-chis-elled features, dark, tender eyes and black, wavy hair ihat rippled shining to her waist, she was already celebrated for her beauty, though but eighteen years old. Many lovers had she, and treated them with an equality of disdain that allowed no room for jealousy, the affection of a powerful father, whost only child she was, securing to her a freedom of choice unusual in those days. In 1798 there came to Otakou a vessel from Sydney, which, having landed a sealing party at the mouth of the Waiau, was bound northward on a trading expedition. She carried a supercargo, William Thompson, and while the vessel — she was a brig of 600 tons, the Nancy — lay at the Heads, he, prompted more by a spirit of curiosity than the expectation of trade, sailed in the whaleboat to Mapotahi, was kindly received by Tomaha/ — a rangatira of the old school and a perfect specimen of the Maori . gentleman — and inspected the ancient fortress, the war canoes, and everything of interest in the neighbourhood. Hinekura, bathing on the rocky- beach of Mateaweawe, saw his boat approaching, and hid herself in the flax, being frightened of the pakeha, nor did she emerge until her father's call compelled her obedience, when she was introduced to Thompson as a chattel more highly valued than even the greenstone mere which had come to Tomaha from a long line of ancestors. And Thompson, looking at her, thought yes, he would sooner possess her than a greenstone mere. Moreover, being a man of strong passions, he determined that he would possess her, cost what it might. Had she been of ordinary parentage, there would not have been much difficulty about the matter; but with the daughter of Tomaha the case was different. It would require diplomacy, to say nothing of muskets, gunpowder, nails, axes, and other articles of " trade," and the supercargo, though there were plenty of these things on board the Nancy, feared that the Sydney owners would not regard Hinekura as a legitimate article of commerce, being unsympathetic, worldlyminded men ; so, giving the chief some tobacco and his daughter a pair of gorgeous brass earrings, he returned to his vessel to think over the situation.

I It was an unfortunate voyage for the owners of the Nancy. While lying at Otakou (then called Pukekura), the majority of the crew deserted, taking on shore with them anything and everything they could lay hands on ; and as the head of the hapu — an old man named Hika-wai-Kura — politely declined to discuss the subject of extradition, or to return the stolen goods there was nothing for it but to run to the southward with the first slant of northerly wind, and endeavour to re-ship the party that had been landed at the mouth of the Waiau River. Short-handed though he was, the skipper determined to make the attempt ; but .endeavouring in the darkness j t") avoid the reefs of Waipapa, of which he | had some knowledge, he ran the vessel | upon the island of Ruapuke. James Hart- | ley" (master), Thomas Ryan (mate), and 1 three men, who, to the surprise and disgust of their messmates, had neither deserted the ship nor stolen any of the cargo, j made their way to the Waiau in one of the i boats, and were eventually taken to Syd- [ ney by a cutter sent for the skins and (unj less they could conveniently be marooned) the sealing party. But William Thompson ' stayed where he was, and presently took

unto himself Akore, the daughter of Hikoia and the renowned Te Putu. But he did not forget Hinekura, and, in cautiously speaking of her one day in the presence of his wife, she, to his surprise, praised the beautiful daughter of Tomaha, and asked why he did not endeavour to secure so great' a prize. Then the entire hapu took up the strain. He was a pakeha rangatira. Did not all the goods brought ashore from the stranded vessel belong to him? Why, then, should he not load a canoe with his wealth and demand the hand of the lovely Hinekura? What a help to the tribe would be an alliance with the powerful Tomaha. The last clause gave Thompson a satisfactory clue to the mystery: The hapu desired an alliance with their ancient toe. He certainly had not looked upon himself as the owner of the salvage from the wreck, for in point of fact he had not set eyes upon it since it came ashore; but, if he were, so much the better was his chance of obtaining that rare and duskily-radiant maiden upon whose charms his voluptuous imagination had dwelt with astonishing constancy since his visit to Mapotahi. So one day Wiremu Tomoana (as they called him) in his capacity as a great rangatira, arrived at Mapotahi, and laid formal claim to the hand of Hinekura, bringing with him in the canoe five warriors (who steadfastly refused to enter the pa), and much " trade," including a doublebarrelled gun, which had belonged to the captain of the Nancy. There was much haggling and bargaining, but the flintlock fowling piece settled the matter, and Hinekura, tearful and frightened, was handed over by her father to the tender care of Thompson, whose ardent gaze plainly intimated that he considered her cheap at the price. There was neither ceremony nor feasting — these would take place when she arrived at her new horne — and after a brief leave-taking the canoe, with its precious freight, shot away from the beach at a great speed, the efforts of the crew not relaxing until many a mile of sea heaved between them and the stronghold of their foes.

When the little craft disappeared, and he realised that his daughter had gone, old Tomaha gazed on the proceeds of the sale with a heavy heart, and for the first time there crept into' his mind a doubt as to whether the pakeha rangatira would be able to protect her. There was a great feast at Ruapuke. All the principal men of the south were present, some coming long distances to do honour to the daughter of the chief of Mapotahi, and the heart of. Wirefu Tomoana swelled with exultation. Here, at all events, he was a great man, and here he would stay. ■ No jealousy arose between the Mesdames Thompson, and nothing occurred to break a monotony that was becoming a little tiresome. to their husband until Akore conceived a violent longing to see her mother, Hikoia, and begged that she might take Hinekura with her. They would return before the time of the full' moon ; Mohoka, the brother of Akore, would take them to the mainland ; and the young Tahoi should cook the food and get the firewood while they were absent. A. shapely girl was Tahoi, and Thompson, after a little consideration, assented to the proposed expedition, the starting of 'which afforded him additional evidence of the high esteem in which he was held ; for the entire hapu assembled on the beach, and the tohunga Tutua sang a song in which he extolled|.the father of Hinekura, and expressed the ' deep-longing of the tribe to repay him for a great service rendered in the long past.

What strange, portentous, dismal noise disturbs the slumber of our hero? A sound of woe, a cry of lamentation, the eerie, long-drawn wail of the tangi : " Here is the canoe, Akore also, and Mohoka ; but Hinekura returns not. Behold the wet garments of those who come up from the sea. Ah, faithless canoe, that didst spill thy precious burden ! Hear the lap-lap of the tide on the rocks. It licks its cruel lips, saying : ' I have her ; I have her.' Cold is her cheek, and round her limbs is coiled the ocean's giant weed. Sad now is the house of Wiremu Tomoana ; his fire has gone out, his hearth is desolate."

Thus Tutua, voicing the grief of the hapu. Deeply affected were these simple, artless people — women weeping copiously, and grown men not disdaining to shed tears, guileless children of Nature that they were.

Tomaha sat in his whare, listless, dejected. The great wooden war trumpet had been silent many a long, monotonous year, and with its expiring note the joy of life had fled. Ah, for the shout of foemen, the sullen boom of the gong, the roar of the war conch, the joy of battle. Hidden in the thatch was the mere he took from the warm hand of Te Putu. Warm, aye, but dead. What a day was that — the battle of Teraka-ahine-Atea. How the* fought, those men of the south. But now warriors died like slaves, and £he days dragged on wearily. Hinekura, too, had sent no word since she left him ; but, then, of course, messengers for the north were hard to find. And the old chief smiled a dry, carven smile.

Just then the cry arose : " A canoe ! A canoe from the south ! " The old man rose witu alacrity, and went out. A canoe, sure enough ; and from the south, as any child could see. Down to the beach they flocked, young and old, and, hiding club and spear in the flax, yet not too far away, waited for the strangers. It was Mohoka, who landed, but the men of Mapotahi knew him not. He had come from the paheka rangatira with presents for the father of Hinekura. Here they were — gunpowder, three muskets, a tengallon keg of rum, blankets, and print of many colours. No ; they would not stay to eat, for they were unarmed and feared the warriors of Pukekura, which point they desired to pass in the darkness.

A parting cry, a wave of the hand, and they were off, the gathering darkness swallowing them from view and distance

stilling the sound of the paddles,

That night, in the great whare-puni, by the glare of a pine log, the top of the rum-keg was knocked in, and the fiery spirit ladled out with calabashes, which passed from hand to hand, till the reserve of the old warriors broke down and they discoursed volubly of ancient days. Now Tiki told how Tomaha slew Te Putu at Teraka", illustrating with appropriate gesture the closing scene of the battle : " See, now they run, they fly! Ha, Te Putu falls! His head "

A sudden silence fell upon them, and the fire blazed up with a blue, unearthly glare. Tawhai, dropping the calabash upon the hot embers, drew from the keg by the hair The Head of Hinekura — its mouth open as in a horrid laugh ; its eyes, sockets filled with gleaming shell, seeming, in the flickering flame of the burning spirit, to wink with a devilish glee.