CHAPTER V.
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CHAPTER V.
The next war expedition in which Kawiti personally engaged, seems to have been headed by himself against the tribes residing on the banks of the romantic river Hokianga, situate on the West Coast. The armies met at Waima, a branch of the Hokianga, which takes its rise in the mountain ranges, about thirty miles from the main river, and watering a most fertile valley abounding in fruit and grain. In those days of superstition and error, no Mission Station, with its fine orchards and flower gardens graced the surrounding heights which overlook the serpentine stream, now sparkling in the sun beam, and now concealed by the dark foliage of the umbraceous Karaka. No house of prayer with its lightsome windows caught the glance of the traveller thro' an avenue of waving trees; while the low-roofed hut of the Maori, with its occupants seated before the door, clothed in the costume of the country, looking savage and distrustful, tended only to depress the spirits, and awaken the deepest sympathies of the heart. In subsequent years, however, a change came over the scene, as will be noticed by the following lines addressed to the Missionary and his partner, who laboured on the Waima station:--
Sweet vale! where tender friendship rears its bower,
And breathes its sacred incense to the skies!
Friendship--that closer clings in sorrows hour,
When hapless fortune o'er her ruin sighs.
Oft have I roved thy winding walks along,
And feasted on the beauties of the way;
Anon attracted by the holy song,
Ascending slowly at the close of day.
Each little warbler from its leafy bower.
Salutes in melting, strains the infant morn
Culls the rich nectar from the blushing flower,
Or sips the dewy chrystal from the thorn.
Thy lowly pastor, with unwearied love,
Unfolds the page of truth to Zealand's race;
Ope's to the soul eternal bliss above,
Secured to sinners by redeeming grace.
Tho' torn by fate from this enchanting spot.
Within my heart its objects e'er shall dwell;
Tho' bright the future, with my present lot,
I fondly linger, as I sigh, ----"Farewell!"
All that savage defiance so peculiar to barbarous people, was displayed on the occasion of this hostile meeting. The loaded guns of the warriors glittered in the sun, as they danced and yelled, and menaced one another, but neither party ventured to fire. A lull now ensued, and Kawiti's people taking advantage of this, scattered themselves through the settlements, destroying the kumara plantations, and seizing: every thing valuable that came in their way. Most probably the quarrel would have ended here, had not a Chieftainess of note, belonging to the Bay of Islands, with her infant child been, accidentally shot. Waka Nene, and Patuone, who were the commanders of the Hokianga force, prepared to receive Kawiti and bis army, which was estimated at sixteen hundred men. A volley was fired by each party, and about twenty persons shot, many more would have been speedily added to the number of the dead, but the Bay of Islanders were seized with a sudden panic, and fled precipitately in various directions. After much difficulty, Kawiti succeeded in rallying about fifty of his men, with whom he returned to attack the formidable host in array against him; he fought with great intrepidity, but his undaunted courage was of little avail, being overpowered by numbers, he was necessitated to retire, and
Scampering off, he drew
His willing train,
Who flew amain,
And soon were screened from view.
"This battle," says our Maori informant, "was called the catching of necks, because" adds he "the necks of the people were caught by the supple-jacks as they rushed thro' the forests."
Several Chiefs of consequence fell in this engagement on both sides; the following lament is said to have been composed in remembrance of one of the Bay of Islands warriors:--
Lo, o'er the heights of Ramaroa the morning
Dawns, whilst I bewail the absence of the
Loved one, dearer to me than all your spoils
O Karu! thou did'st wander where the people
Roamed in lesser companies, hence the
Advantage taken by the foe. Bright was
Thy skin, and beautiful the masks of Matarau's
Fine chisel on thy noble brow. Would that
I could stroke thy face again. My treasure!
Thou wer't ever joyous in the summer's sun.
Or when the heavens arrayed in sable
Vestments charged with a furious storm, made
Others pale with fear. Ah! the prop of
Taumarere is prostrate in the dust, and
Kererua's waters ebb apace! It may be
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Loved one! thou art strolling as thou wer't wont
To do, or listening to the speeches of thy
Fellows, who when the sun is playing,
Visit the great ships. Or art thou giving
Heed to speeches uttered by the stranger
From a distant land? The drapery of clouds
That rises high o'er Taumarere's hills
Is weeping now in sympathy with thee,
While the ocean tides near Kereru are
Rippling onward. Ah! how could'st thou escape?
For foes in ambush waited to ensnare thee;
Thy doom alas! was fixed; and thou art
Borne away from us high o'er the lightsome cloud.
Waima has the honor of claiming the famous Mohi Tawhai for its principal Chief, a man, who rendered most essential assistance to the British troops during the disaffection of the northern tribes under Kawiti and Heke. At an early stage of the Hokianga Wesleyan Missions, Mohi Tawhai was a local preacher and class-leader, and deservedly respected for his zeal and fidelity. He also aided the Missionaries materially in the formation of the Mission Station at his native valley, and made himself useful in the good cause, so that his exemplary conduct became worthy of imitation, while it called forth the praises of his brethren.
In the palmy days of the Mission settlement at Waima, the visitor could not help being captivated by its appearance. The happy groups of natives gathering round the missionary, in order that certain passages of Holy Writ might be explained; others threading their way through the woods to their cultivations, while the trees around the mission-house were bending to the earth beneath their weight of luscious fruit. Mrs. Warren, the missionary's lady, displayed much taste in the arrangement of her shrubbery and flower garden, which she personally superintended; and in a pleasant nook was erected a spacious bower, in honour of which the following lines were penned:--
Hail rustic bower! Florentia's pleasure hail!
Thy fluted turrets court the angry gale;
Around the lattice rich-plumed warblers play,
And sing in lively notes the morning lay;
Sweet birds! your thrilling music fires my heart,
And calls my grateful powers to act their part:
Still round the bower in concert may ye meet,
And charm Florentia in her cool retreat.
When towering Dohlica, with artless grace,
Displays the varied beauties of her face,
Twines her gay wreath sweet Flora to adorn,
And boasts of Rosa's blush without her thorn; --
When bright Lathyra hails the brighter sun,
'Like the young hero proud of battles won;'
When fond Reseda's daughters wake to birth,
And spread their fragrant tresses on the earth; --
When loved Clyantha opes her blood-stained eyes
To deck with ruby gems our Southern skies;
When Autum's leaves are tipt with golden hues,
And Nature here shall yield her richer dues;
When rosy clusters of delicious fruit
Tempts the musician as she tunes her lute; --
Sacred to Venus be the sylvan bower!
Nor near my friends ye clouds of darkness lour;
While others weep, may Strephen's circle sing,
Each morn and eve, and each returning spring.
The resident minister at Waima now, is the Rev. Henry H. Lawry, who is strenuously exerting his energies for the benefit of the people committed to his charge. His circuit embraces Kaipara, the whole of Hokianga, and extends northward as far as Oruru. Mr. Lawry and his estimable lady are very much respected by the natives and the English settlers. We are hoping that the native churches planted so long since in this district, which seem "ready to perish," will, by the Divine blessing, spring up with renewed vigour, and bear fruit, "to the honour and glory of God."
In the affray at Waima a chief of great celebrity, named Te Whareumu, was slain. Owing to this circumstance, a protracted war must have ensued, but for the timely intervention of the well-disposed leaders, who succeeded in disbanding the warriors, and induced them to return to their respective settlements.
Peace having been established, as was supposed, upon a firm footing, Pomare II. emancipated his general, Mauparaoa, and gave him permission to return with other liberated slaves to the East Coast. The party consisted of about one hundred and twenty men, who, with their wives and children, embarked on board six canoes. Previous to their setting sail from the Bay of Islands, Pomare Nehe addressed Mauparaoa, as follows:-- "See that you do nothing ill by the way. Remember that you are no longer under my care: I therefore advise you to act with caution and prudence. Should you see anything on the coast belonging to the tribes that you would like to possess, put not forth your hand to take it. You are now your own master, and as you are leaving me, I can no longer render you assistance, in reference to difficulties you may meet with on your trip. O! Sire, go hence to your people, and to your land, in peace!"
This excellent advice was utterly disregarded by Mauparaoa and his companions, as will be seen by the sequel. The little fleet, on its way homeward, touched at the Great Barrier island, which place was a general rendezvous in those days, and the tribes, when assembled there, used to feel a degree of safety, as any approaching foe was discernible in the distance. Mauparaoa and his comrades were kindly received by the Ngatiwai and their Chief Te Mariri, who were the only occupants of the Barrier at that time, having been placed there by the celebrated Chief Hooknose of Coromandel Harbour. The strangers visited the pah, and while the pilfering was confined to articles of dress, Maori implements, &c., the Ngatiwai looked on in mute disapprobation; but when the visitors commenced to slaughter the pigs, a special messenger was despatched to Hooknose. The request was quickly responded to, and ere Mauparaoa was aware of the movement, Hooknose and his warriors had landed.
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There being no possibility of escape, the Ngatikahungunu, headed by Mauparaoa, were obliged to meet their opponents in deadly combat. The Ngatikahungunu fought with great desperation. The enemy was met with unflinching courage, and Mauparaoa refused to retire till nearly the whole of his party were cut to pieces. He ultimately took shelter in the adjacent woods, with about ten or fifteen followers, leaving on the field. of battle his brave comrades, dead, and dying, together with a considerable number of the flower of Hooknose's army. This singular man constructed a raft of a species of flag called by the natives raupo, by which means he and his men made their escape to the Little Barrier, about twenty miles from the Great Barrier. Here they were accidentally discovered by the crew of a coasting vessel, who very humanely invited them on board, and landed them safely at the Bay of Islands.
The following was composed by an aged woman on the day previous to the battle, and it was sung as a lament over those who fell on this sad occasion. By the transposition of certain sentences, and the substitution of other proper names, the New Zealander frequently renders ancient poetry applicable to existing circumstances. The names in this song however, were not, it is presumed, altered:--
The sun was at its height when the beloved
One ushered forth. Ah! have I partaken
Of the fish which makes the heart forget its
Misery? But how O Hau can I
Forget thee? Methinks I see thee still
Seated on yonder prow, and while I mourn
For thee, I mourn another too, even the
Betrothed one Ngahue, that beauteous bird
Of mine that nestled near my heart. Thou wert
As fair to look upon as the foliage
Of the forest sapling, and as graceful
As the Totara that waves at Moehau.
Thou wert hurried hence by murderers; the earth
Drank in thy blood at Karika, hard by
Thy native village, when the deadly spear
Was hurled at thee, and thy head was cast
Upon the pebbly beach near. Tahuhu.
Lo! thou art seated now upon the hill
Of Rangipo, and women from the Northern
Tribes look up and weep. Whom hast thou left behind
T' avenge thy death? Ah, Rehu the son of
Whiu will surely visit those with death who
Laid thee low. Loved one! thou sleepest now,
Adorned with feathers from the Southern lands;!
But, thy death was like the elemental crash
We hear, when monster gods burst from their ocean caves.
