Nation Making

New Zealand Graphic, Volume V, Issue 40, 4 October 1890, Page 2

Nation Making

A STORY OF NEW ZEALAND SAVAGEISM & CIVILIZATION.

By

J. C. FIRTH,

AUTHOR ok “LUCK" and “OUR KIN ACROSS THE SEA.”

Chapter XXVII. AN AGED CHIEF. A cruel custom—To Kooti I fortify my house-Ono brave Maori ‘I will die with you’—Te Kooti promises to kill no more women Interview with Captain Cook ‘ Hook Nose ’ and the silver button Eating peacocks—One hundred and twenty-four years old. ir-ir-_r. y . E cruel Maori custom of leaving very aged persons to die a lingering > V and niiserable death is difficult to explain. That a most kind-hearted Ky/ and hospitable people like the Maoiis jf I fl! l ,e guilty of such cruelty to l\ fl their own kindred is remarkable. •;k\ fl It is probably a survival of some fl ancient practice in other lands, the reason for which has long ago been forgotten. The superstition, however, has continued its influence, whatever its origin. An unusually aged man is simply an object of fear to the younger members of his tribe, which increases with the age of the unfortunate victim. His tapu becomes so strong that his kinsfolk dread to touch him or to look at him, and unable toovercome their superstitious fears, they finally abandon him to his fate, sometimes even leaving the village with the ancient man as its solitary occupant. In the early part of 1889 there died in this manner Hohua, a very ancient Maori of my acquaintance. His story is of peculiar interest, as will be seen from his history. When I first knew him twenty-three years ago he was an extremely old man, of thin, spare build, muscular, industrious, and healthy. Many stories of his old warrior days the aged chief has narrated to me timing our long acquaintance. His eyes would kindle as he told of single combats, bloody tribal battles, and cannibal feasts of the long, long agd. We naturally became great friends, and though I occasionally sent him a blanket in winter, or gave him a pipe and a little tobacco when I saw him, there was nothing of the mendicant about him. Not once during our long acquaintance did he use to me a salutation, not uncommon amongst the Maoris when addressing colonists, ‘ ( beat is my love for you, give me a shilling.’ No. His wants were too few ami simple, ami his spiiit too high to pei mit him to beg. I well remember when in 1874 1 was threatened at Matamata by the redoutable warrior Te Kooti, how Hohua crossed the river to my house. Apprehending an attack, I had fortified my house, ami sent the women and children to Cambridge, a frontier town some twenty-five miles away, ietaining a few men to fight or run, as might be found best. Two Maoris, mad with the excitement of those times, had warned me of Te Kooti’s approach, and urged my immediate flight. They said they had already warned the Maoris in the neighbouring villages to escape, who, indeed, ha«l been moving away all that day men, women ami chibhen with all their belongings. Next <lay, when all the Maoris had departed except two chiefs of lank who remained with me, Hohua crossed the river to see me. ‘ What,’ he inquired, ‘are you still remaining here? Do you not know that all the Maoris have fled ?’ ‘ Yes,’ I replied, ‘ I know they are gone, but I remain here. ’ ‘ Are you not afraid ? Doyon not know that Te Kooti has killed many people, both English and Maori?’ ‘ Yes, I know all,’ I replied. 4 Then,’ said he, ‘ why do you not also go?’ 4 I have done no wrong to Te Kooti, or to any other Maori,’ 1 replied. 4 1 am in God’s hands. If He permits Te Kooti to kill me, well. Te Kooti will do it. If God protect" me, Te Kooti will not harm me. In any case it is my duty to remain here, and I will not run away like a coward. ’ 4 Now,’ said the ancient warrior, ‘ I know you are a chieftain.’ He continued : 4 < >h, I wish I were a youth again. Then I could have fought at youi side. But now I am very old, my warrior days have gone, my strength is departed. But I will go to my house now, and when the clouds of dust on the plain tell me that Te Kooti and his horsemen are crossing the plain, I will return to you, ami if I cannot tight for you, I can at least die with you, for great is my love for you.’ f was deeply touched by the old man’s devotion. Had he asked me for a shilling, or even a tobacco pipe, the spell would have been broken. But he asked for nothing, and without another word he shook the ashes from his pipe, folded his blanket around him, ami like a biave old Roman, as he was, strode silently away. The day following Te Kooti sent a messenger to say that I was William Thompson’s friend, ami that he wished to meet me at that chiefs monument. How I met Te Kooti and his forty armed followers, how we had an hour’s interview, how I urged him to surrender, how he refused and declared he would tight for his country till he died if he were attacked, how I urged him at least to tight with men, ami kill no more women and children, how he promised to spare them in future, it is no part of this story to enlarge upon. Let it suffice to say that the interview ended without harm to me or my two attendants, and that Te Kooti faithfully kept his word not to harm women and children. To return to my old friend Hohua Ahuwhenua (Joshua, the

land tiller), some particulars about whom may not be without interest. He would tell, amongst other stories of the old days, how, when he was a little boy—so high, about twelve years old, that he and another boy, Taniwha—subsequently known amongst the colonists as ‘ Old Hooknose,’ long since dead—went down amongst a crowd of Maoris to Hauraki on the Thames River to meet Captain Cook, when he gave them the first pig they had ever seen. At this interview the boy Taniwha showing a great liking for the bright silver buttons on Captain Cook’s coat, Hohua told how the captain cut off one of the buttons and gave it to the boy. This relic old Hooknose tre.asured till his death. It was frequently seen by one of my friends, but has probably long since disappeared in some pawnbroker’s melting pot. This incident fixed Holina’s age at the time I last saw him, about four years ago, at 120 years. I could not help a feeling akin to awe in the presence of this ancient man, old Hohua, the only living man amongst earth s thousand millions who had seen the renowned navigator. Since I sold my Matamata estates I have not seen Hohua. I have, however, recently learnt that his tribe hail become more and more afraid of him on account of his great age, and, in accordance with one of their st range customs, about two years ago left him with a small stole of potatoes to die in the abandoned village. A friend of mine riding through the deserted village went to the runanga bouse, and found Hohua there alone. * What are you doing here?’ inquired my friend. ‘ Eating peacocks,’ said the ancient man. My friend learnt that his Maori kinsfolk had left the old man to die. Happily about twenty peacocks, which the Maoris breed for their feathers, had been left at the village. After Hohua had eaten the potatoes he began to catch and eat the peacocks, which had taken possession of the runanga bouse. After a time the tribe returned to the village to find all the peacocks gone but two, and the old man still alive, and his tapu unbroken. As I write this (August, 1889) I learn that my old fiiend died three months ago at the age, as nearly as can be ascertained, of 124 years.

Chapter XXVIII. LOCATING FALLOW DEER. Deer from Burghley Park—The marquis and the maiden—A lurid illumination—A black rushing river—Man-eaters versus deereaters —The deer in their mountain home. Twelve years ago a consignment of twenty English fallow deer arrived at the port of Auckland. Of these eighteen survived the ordeal ot a three months’ voyage. Before describing their location in the interior I cannot refrain from telling a pretty story told of the grandfather of the Marquis of Exeter, from whose seat at Burghley Park the deer were obtained. This nobleman, inspired by an odd fancy, rambled incog. throughout England as an artist. Late one evening he arrived at a shepherd’s house seeking food and shelter. The rude hospitality dispensed by the hands of the shepherd’s fair daughter was so agreeable to the unknown stranger that, though a bright morning followed the stormy night, he prolonged his stay, sketching bits of scenery here and there. With light step and witching grace this child of nature led the artist to wooded knoll and shady dell. Everywhere he found scenic beauty ; everywhere sunshine and shadow greeted him; everywhere the innocent maiden stood out in his pictures the faiiest sunbeam in them all : until at length the beauty and simplicity of thefairshephei dess won his heart, and at the end of a month he asked the shepherd for his daughter, and shortly afterwards she became the Marchioness of Exeter, said to have been one of the handsomest women of her time. Kind reader, pray pardon the introduction of this bit of true romance into pages which record the hopes, the hard work, the adventuresand reverses of the busy toilers and traders of this practical age, socalled. The Auckland Acclimatization Society, to whom the deer were consigned, entrusted their landing and location to Mr Thomas Morrill and myself. Some account of this rather difficult operation may perhaps not be without interest, as showing one of the many things to be done in the making of this young nation. Transferring such wild animals from ship to railway cars, and thence to a river steamer, was no easy task, but it was safely done. The flooded state of the Waikato River delayed our progress, and steady rain all day did not render it quite a pleasure trip. About midnight we entered the Narrows. Tlie thick darkness and the rapid current of the flooded river made the navigation of the Narrows no easy matter. Captain Spargo, whose coolness and skill I could not but admire, now lit his lamps in the shape of two large iron braziers, one each side ot the deck forward of the paddleboxes. Just before entering the Narrows the lires in the braziers were in full blaze, two sailors constantly feeding them with wood and coal-tar. By this means, notwithstanding the thick daikness and surging current, the steamer was kept mid stream, and slowly forged ahead, like some grim monster with fiery eyes, fighting against the black rushing river. As she dashed the water from her bows the liquid tire illuminated the surging spray, and at intervals as we passed a waterfall, fringed with shining foliage, it sparkled for an instant with rare and glittering beauty. At length we reached the jaws of the Narrows under a full head of steam. The boat ground on her way through the seething waters. Thud, thud, went the engines ; louder and louder roared the steam, driving from the funnel a fiery fountain of glowing sparks, whilst sheets of flame danced from the braziers threatening every moment to set lire to the paddle-boxes. Now I think of it, had a link or a bearing given way, it would have been awkward for the deer. At last we emerged from the Narrows, and though the sensation was new, and the surroundings weird and grand, we were not sorry to get into the less turbulent waters. At three o’clock next morning we arrived at the Cambridge wharf, and tumbling into bed at our hotel, snatched a few hours' sleep, ready for the hard work of the morrow. We had decided to place the deer on the park-like uplands of Maungakawa, a lofty range of wooded mountains, and had made arrangements accordingly. At early morn the settlers mustered with their horses, waggons, and sledges. It would be difficult to find a firmer body of English yeomen than these hardy Waikato colonists, who had so promptly responded to our call fm help. Without their willing and powerful aid we could not have accomplished the difficult task of transporting the deer up a pre-

cipitous range 1,000 feet high, with the clay tracks as slippery as soap from the heavy rains of the previous day. We were also fortunate in finding Mr James Mackay and a large number of Maoris at Cambridge. They were very inquisitive about tbe habits of the deer, and made many curious conjectures regarding them. One native said, *lt is all right ; Mr I iith is always bringing us some new fish or bird.’ ‘Ah,’ said another, watching a deer chewing his cud, 1 there is one of them grinding his teeth. 1 believe this new animal is a man-eater, brought here to destroy the Maoris.’ Mr Mackay, who was standing near, said, ‘Not at all ; these animals eat grass and herbs, and if they did eat men they might catch a stray pakeha as well as a Maori.’ The Maori gentleman rejoined l>y asking rather a pertinent question : • Are these animals fit for food ?’ Mr Mackay replied, ‘ Yes, very good eating ; our rangatiras (noblemen) preserve them in large fenced cultivations of glass and trees.’ ‘Now,’ said the aboriginal, ‘I don’t believe this animal (pointing to a buck) tastes like cow or sheep. I think he strongly resembles he irauiwaui toa koroheke’ (an old he-goat). Mr Mackay laughed and said, ‘ Come and help us to get them to Maungakawa.’ Intelligent native again made a characteristic answer by asking the question, •He ahate uta mu Hohaia moteneimahi'’ (What sum will Mr Firth give in payment for this service?) Mr Mackay replied, •Captain Look landed pigs in New Zealand, and you have good sport and food from them. There was no payment tor that, and there can be none for this. Now then, let us go and paddle this new canoe, and help to pass tbe deer up the mountain side.’ At this about a score started on horseback. In the meantime the waggons had been loaded with their live freight in pens, and tne calvacade, accompanied by mounted settlers and natives, started for the foot of the range. Arrived there, the waggons were unloaded, and the deer in their pens or boxes were firmly lashed on sledges, eacli drawn by a pair of staunch and strong horses. Now came the tug of war. We bad to climb the steepest and greasiest road in the country, and nothing but the admirable position of the upland of the Mangakawa, with its abundant grass, sparkling streams, wooded Knolls and dales, would have wairanted so difficult a task being undertaken as placing them there. As each sledge was loaded Mr Mackay told off a convoy of four Maoris to accompany it. Three or four settlers followed in case of accident. And so one by one the sledges started. With steady efforts and desperate struggles, amidst terrific thunderstorms, attended by torrents of rain, through the mud, through the rain, through the lightning, these sturdy fellows fought their way, ami at last were rewarded by placing the deer in the charming park-like valleys of Maungakawa without an accident of any kind. (TO BE CONTINUED.)