1935 - Stack, J. W. Early Maoriland Adventures of J. W. Stack - CHAPTER IV. TE PAPA--Continued, p 128-140

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CHAPTER IV

TE PAPA--Continued

THERE were no shops in New Zealand at the time I am writing about, and none of us children had any idea of what the word "shop" meant, but we all knew what an "English Box" meant, and we soon learnt to look forward with eagerness to the arrival of the ship, which once every year brought boxes from England full of everything required for our use. Those containing articles of clothing and books were the boxes we took most interest in, and it was an exciting moment when my father, with hammer and chisel or screwdriver, set to work to open a box full of surprises. As the lid was raised up the room was suddenly filled with the smell of new boots and shoes, for every case of wearing apparel contained a number of these useful articles, suited to fit the various members of the family. As the things were taken out and spread about the room, the excitement grew in intensity, and culminated when a specially addressed parcel was placed in our hands to be opened by ourselves. At one of these memorable box openings I received a Sunday suit of clothes and a cap, being a birthday present from my grandfather. I was eager to wear the suit, and longed for Sunday morning to come, but when it did come it was found that the cap was far too big for me, and it had to be put away for a time.

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THE WAR DANCE

THE WAR DANCE

All accounts of early missionaries, travellers, and artists, agree in describing the New Zealanders' war dance as one of the most fiendish things imaginable. As an instance Maning in "Old New-Zealand" thus refers to it: "The roaring chorus of the war song; the horrid grimaces; the eyes all white; the tongues hanging out; the furious yet measured and uniform gesticulation, jumping and stamping. I felt the ground plainly trembling."

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The figure on the left is Dr. Ernest Dieffenbach.

The figure on the left is Dr. Ernest Dieffenbach. Naturalist to the New Zealand Company. His companion is Captain W. C. Symonds, a magistrate. Dieffenbach traversed the North Island on foot and related his experiences and observations in "Travels in New Zealand," London, 1843. Such groups of Maoris might commonly be met with in the period of which Stack is writing. (For references to Dieffenbach see pp. 133-136.)

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Still I was proud enough when I appeared in trousers and jacket. Once emancipated from frocks I asserted my manhood, and objected to wear such baby clothes again. So henceforth I was allowed to wear trousers, the chief advantage of which garments seemed to me at first to be that they provided pockets, into which I could stow my hands; and I was rather disappointed to find that my parents' ideas about the use of pockets differed from my own, and that I invariably got a scolding if caught making what I thought a sensible use of them.

The part of the coast we lived on was subject at times to strong easterly gales. During one of these storms a good-sized vessel, seeking shelter in the harbour, was wrecked upon the inner bar, close to where the steamer Taupo 1 was afterwards lost. Fortunately for the crew, when the tide went out they were able to wade ashore. The wreck occurred during the night, and no one knew anything about it till daylight, when the sailors appeared round our house, which happened to be the first one they reached. They were Spaniards, and came from Valparaiso with a cargo of flour and South Sea Islands produce. My father who, when a boy, had spent some time on board a man-of-war stationed on the South American coast, knew something of their language, and was able

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to converse with them after a fashion. Amongst the new things these men brought to my knowledge was the existence of bananas, not in their natural state when growing, but preserved with sugar in small packets, wrapped up in dried palm leaves. We thought the flavour delicious, and after our stock was consumed we children longed for another Spanish ship to come ashore with a similar cargo.

Things had gone on pretty quietly at Te Papa for some months after the dispute about my nurse Ani was settled, when all at once news came that a tribe residing on the south side of Tauranga Harbour meant to attack the tribe living on the north side, and that the fight would probably take place near the mission premises, as that spot was at a convenient distance from both the contending parties.

The missionaries visited both sides, and tried to dissuade them from their purpose, but in vain, and a fight did take place on the beach at Te Papa, about half a mile from our house. I heard the report of firing, and saw the puffs of smoke, and the crowds of men rushing about on the sand flats which the ebbtide had left exposed. The fight did not last long as the party with most muskets 2 soon forced their opponents to fly to

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their canoes and paddle away. The wounded and dead were picked up and carried off by the victors.

After the mission station at Te Papa was established, another mission station was formed at Rotorua by Mr. Chapman. 3 During his absence on one occasion at Matamata, an army of eight hundred Maori warriors appeared on his premises, in pursuit of the fugitives from a fortress which they had captured. Though the mission house was locked up, the invaders soon forced the doors and windows open, and took out all the movable property, dividing it amongst themselves. Mr. Chapman's two European assistants rode away for their lives towards Te Papa; one of them had been roused so suddenly from his bed that he had not time to put his clothes on, and rode off in his nightshirt. On reaching the neighbourhood of the mission station, fearing to be seen by the ladies in such a guise, he borrowed his friend's waistcoat, and then took off his nightshirt and turned

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it upside down, thrusting his legs into the sleeves, and tying the tail end round his waist with a strip of flax. Ridiculous as this white man must have looked as he fled away from the warriors, who would probably have gobbled him up if they had caught him, his appearance was nothing like as comical as that of the warriors themselves when arrayed in the various European garments which they had stolen. Each warrior wore something that he had taken, and it mattered not whether it was an article of male or female attire. They were seen by Mr. Morgan, 4 one of the missionaries who met them as they came out of the Rotorua forest on to the Matamata plain, presenting a most fantastic appearance. One man was marching before the rest, evidently very proud of himself, with nothing whatever on but a black silk bonnet belonging to Mrs. Chapman, and a white handkerchief tied round his neck.

It was the custom at Te Papa for the whole mission staff to dine together on Christmas Day at Mr. Brown's, and all the children old enough to sit on ordinary chairs were allowed to join their elders. On the first occasion when I was promoted to a seat at the Christmas board, I drew upon myself the attention of the company by choosing cold raspberry tart in preference to hot plum pudding. "Ah! you are no Englishman," someone said, "not to take plum pudding on Christmas

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Day." I blushed very red and felt very hot, but I did not give up the raspberry tart. The incident set me thinking, and I determined that I would prove in time to come that I was English, and not Maori, although I did choose cold tart on a scorching hot day in preference to hot plum pudding. The opportunity came for me to do so when I arrived in England in 1848, and showed that I took a greater interest in anything belonging to the country than most boys born in it. I became so familiar with all parts of London, and especially the parts possessing historical interest, that before I had lived two years in the city I could act as a guide to any part of it. And my interest increased in proportion to my growing acquaintance with the writings of Dickens and Harrison Ainsworth.

In 1841, when I was just six years old, a German scientist named Dieffenbach 5 visited Tauranga. He was one of the first Europeans to

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attempt to ascend Mt. Tongariro, 6 but not the first person to do so. That distinction was claimed, according to Maori tradition, by Ngatoro-i-rangi, who came from Hawaiki to New Zealand in the canoe Arawa. When the rest of the chiefs who came with him were dispersed over the country around Maketu, for the purpose of selecting land for themselves, Ngatoro was prevented by his duties as high priest from going with them, and he feared that all the land would be taken up before he was free to make a selection. But his servant told him that he had seen in the distance a snow-capped mountain, from the summit of which, if he could only reach it, he might fix the boundaries of a much larger estate than any of the chiefs, who had forestalled him, could possibly have secured. Ngatoro saw the wisdom of his servant's suggestion, and as soon as he was at liberty to do so, set off in company with him and a favourite dog for the summit of Tongariro. On reaching it, he claimed all the land within sight, but in order to establish his claim it was necessary that he should give names to every hill and valley and forest he saw. While engaged naming them, his servant 7 was frozen to death, and Ngatoro, feeling his own limbs growing stiff, and fearing a like fate, mounted the back of his dog with the intention of riding quickly down the mountainside; but he did not get far before the dog, too,

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was frozen to death. Despairing of escape without help, Ngatoro called upon his sister in far-off Hawaiki to come to his help. She heard his cry, and snatching a blazing brand from her sacred fire, plunged into the sea, and dived under water till she reached the Bay of Plenty, where she came up to find out where she was. The water around her immediately caught fire, and has continued to burn ever since on the spot known to us as the White Island volcano. She dived again, and her course under ground is marked by the hot springs of the Rotorua and Taupo districts. She finally came out from the top of Tongariro just in time to save her brother's life.

On his way back from visiting the Maoris near Rotorua, my father met Dr. Dieffenbach, and invited him to stay at our house. The doctor on arriving was wearing a handkerchief tied round his head, having lost his hat in a gale of wind while crossing the lake. My father, not being able to provide a hat which fitted the visitor, asked me to let him have my cap, which had been put away till my head grew large enough to fill it. I could not resist my parents' appeal "to be kind to the stranger," though it went to my heart to see the peak torn off, and the side slit up to enlarge it for the doctor's use. I certainly did not experience much "joy" in being generous, nor did I quite understand how it could always be "more blessed to give than to receive." But I parted with my valued cap with sufficient grace to secure the approval of my parents, and the profuse thanks of the foreign gentleman, whose broken English I have never forgotten.

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Dr. Dieffenbach was a great puzzle to the Maoris. They could not understand his object in coming to New Zealand.

"He was not a teacher of religion," they said. "He was not a trader. Just a collector of rubbish. He went everywhere collecting leaves and flowers, and roots and stones, and actually paid people to carry these worthless things from the interior to the coast. Whatever could possess the man to act so foolishly?"

When the Maori who was employed to carry the geological specimens found that his back was getting chafed by the load, not having anything between his skin and the stones but the canvas of which the bag was made, he took up a place in the rear of the other carriers, and every morning before starting on the day's march emptied the bag of most of the geological specimens collected by the scientist, and filled it up with fern leaves. But as the doctor always had the bag placed in his tent at night, the Maori took care to refill every evening with fresh stones before reaching the camping place. The doctor never discovered the trick played on him, although the man who perpetrated it spoke openly to his companions about what he had done as "being the only sensible way to deal with such fool's fads."

Te Papa was separated from Otumoetai, where a considerable native population lived, by a channel of the harbour which was fordable at low tide. The natives used often to wade across when they wanted to see the missionaries. One day a man came limping up to our house with a wound in his thigh from which the blood was trickling. He said

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that while wading across the channel, he came into contact with a large sting ray, which had caused the wound. This flat fish is armed with a long barbed sting under its tail. The South Island Maoris used these stings to point their light spears, which were much dreaded by their enemies. Having seen the wound dressed by my father, and having heard afterwards how much the man suffered from it, I cherished for many years a great dread of the sting ray, and would never go into sea water that was deeper than my knees, for fear of encountering one.

In 1842 my father was ordered to proceed with his family to the East Cape to establish a mission there, and on the way, to take charge of Mr. Williams's station during his absence at the Bay of Islands. 8 We were all greatly excited by the coming change of residence, for it meant transplanting all our belongings, including our live stock, to a distant part of the country, which could only be reached by a sea voyage. The little brigantine in which we were to sail came to embark the cattle and horses, and as there was no timber within many miles of Te Papa stouter than a tutu 9 stick, it was impossible to make a temporary yard on the beach, from which the cattle could be swum off to the vessel, so they had all to be roped in the mission stockyard and driven down to the water's edge. Some went quite quietly, but others rushed from side to side and made it lively work for the

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Maoris who held the guiding ropes. My bull was particularly restive, and rushed and reared in a violent way, and finally broke his neck. He was quickly dispatched and turned into beef. The mention of the ownership of this bull recalls to mind the fact that no one realized in 1840 what New Zealand was to become in a few years. At that time it was thought that the only use to which the country could be put was to produce cattle for their hides and tallow, which were marketable products in Europe. South America had started the industry, and New South Wales was following its example, and nothing better was hoped for New Zealand. In view of this the missionaries thought it necessary to give each boy born to them a bull and a heifer calf, hoping that, by the time the boys were old enough to earn their own living, the increase of the pair would provide them with the nucleus of a herd with which to start a cattle farm. 10

Just as we were leaving the harbour a small trading vessel arrived from the Bay of Islands, with English letters and newspapers. The captain, like most of the Europeans in the country at the time, was quite a character, and I am sorry I cannot remember more than one of the interesting and amusing stories told about him.

On one occasion he lost a friend, who was drowned by the upsetting of his boat when coasting along the shores of the Bay of Plenty. "Captain

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James" 11 did all he could to recover the body, and offered the best double blanket in his store to anyone who found it. The whole Maori population of the neighbourhood turned out to search. They examined every beach and rocky point and mass of seaweed along the coast for miles and miles. After some days a messenger came in hot haste from one of the search-parties, to say that the body was found, but in a very decomposed state. The captain at once sent a canvas sheet to wrap the body in, and got a native to dig a grave, for which he gave him a new spade, and then he and his English mate, dressed in their Sunday clothes, awaited the arrival of the corpse. The Maoris dissuaded the captain from examining their burden when they arrived, as they told him that the features of his late friend were past recognition, a statement which was supported by its very offensive smell. The captain proceeded to read with deep emotion the Church of England burial service over the remains of his late friend, but as the body was being lowered into the grave, something happened which aroused his suspicions, and he directed it to be drawn up again to the surface. He took a knife and ripped the covering off the corpse, and disclosed a mass of seaweed and stones and putrid fish, which the Maoris had palmed off upon him in hopes of getting the double blanket which he offered for the recovery of his friend's

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body. To the credit of the old seaman, and indicating the nobility of his character, what troubled him most was not the insult offered to himself by the cruel deception practised upon him, but that he had been trapped into a misuse of the burial service. "To think," he said to the person who repeated the story to me, "that I should have read that solemn and beautiful service over a bundle of seaweed and rotten fish."

NGATORO, ON THE SUMMIT OF TONGARIRO, CLAIMING HIS LANDS.
Original Sketch by Miss Doreen Price.