1936 - Stack, J. W. More Maoriland Adventures of J. W. Stack - PART II. BACK TO NEW ZEALAND, p 102-138

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PART II BACK TO NEW ZEALAND

CHAPTER I

THE SLAINS CASTLE, 1852

THE Slains Castle, 1 in which I sailed for New Zealand, was a barque of seven or eight hundred tons, commanded by Captain Andrew, an old Blue-coat School boy. I had a small cabin to myself,

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which was a great comfort. Mr. and Mrs. Booth, 2 who were going out under the Church Missionary Society to assist the Rev. Richard Taylor, occupied the adjoining cabin. Tamihana Te Rauparaha 3 had the cabin opposite to mine. Amongst our fellow cabin passengers were Major Richardson 4 and his son George, who occupied one of the stern cabins, the two Oldham brothers and Vaughan Jones having the other one. The two Maitlands, Mr. Fulton, Mr. Pearson, and Dr. Evans, and many others whose names I forget, formed the cabin party. There was a large party of emigrants on board, numbering in all about 240. Many of them came from Scotland, and the chief persons amongst them consisted of a family

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named Gillies, one of whom became a distinguished lawyer and Member of Parliament, and ultimately a Judge of the Supreme Court. 5

As compared with the Penyard Park, the ship in which we came to England in 1848, the Slains Castle was a large vessel, but her decks were so encumbered with water-casks, and pens for the sheep and pigs, and spare spars and other lumber, that the emigrants had no space to take exercise upon, until the voyage was half over, and the casks emptied and stowed away in the hold.

After we had been at sea about a week, the drinking water drawn from the casks, which looked like pale ink, became putrid, and very offensive to taste and smell. The tea, in consequence, was for weeks undrinkable. The reason why the water was so bad was because it was drawn from the Thames, which was polluted with drainage. The wonder is that we all escaped typhoid fever. I suppose, like Mithradates, King of Pontus, we were so constantly taking poisonous germs into our bodies in those days, that an extra dose of them did us no harm. It was curious to

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MAJOR RICHARDSON, A PEACEMAKER

see how clear the cask-water got after the fermentation was over, and the sediment settled. The time occupied by this process of clarifying was about six weeks. Whenever a storm arose, and the ship rolled and pitched, the water was as bad as ever.

Our captain, though a pleasant man to deal with, and possessing what was then the rare quality, in a seaman, of sobriety, was lacking in power of command, and we soon suffered for his want of it. The emigrants began complaining about their rations, and the discontent spread to the cabin passengers, who had good reason to suspect that the stewards were reserving all they could of the best provisions, such as hams and potted meats and jams, which they would sell for their own benefit on reaching the colony. The captain, exasperated by the passengers' complaints, gave the chief steward, a Portuguese East Indian from Goa, a good hammering one day, sent him into the forecastle, appointed someone else to take his place, and told the passengers to appoint a committee from amongst themselves to control the issue of all the stores. Fortunately Major Richardson, who proved a very competent man, came forward to act as peacemaker, 6 and managed to allay all discontent amongst the passengers. But the deposed steward succeeded in stirring up a great deal of ill-feeling amongst the crew, who

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grew more and more insolent in their behaviour till they broke out in open mutiny while we were passing through the tropics.

I was sitting one fine morning in a deck chair under the awning, when I heard the captain's voice calling out, "Scorgie, help me!" and on looking in the direction from which the voice came, I saw the captain lying across one of the water-casks, and a huge Highlander, named Macgregor, punching his head. The first mate, Scorgie, a moment after, crossed the deck with a rush, and struck Macgregor such a blow that he fell like a log on the deck, and before he could recover, the mate and carpenter had handcuffed him. As they dragged him along the deck half a dozen of the sailors appeared and tried to release him, but several of the cabin passengers went to the assistance of the ship's officers, and Macgregor was fastened to a ring in the deck, at the bottom of the stairs leading to our cabins.

By the time the captain and mate had secured their man, about sixteen of the crew, armed with crowbars and capstan bars and axes, came rushing up to demand their companion's release. By this time all the cabin passengers were standing beside the captain, and most of them with Colt's revolvers in their hands. The arms chest was opened by the mate, and everyone who did not possess a weapon already, received a cutlass. The captain then read the Mutiny Act, warned the men of the consequences of their foolish conduct, and urged them to go quietly back to their own quarters. When they hesitated, he and the mate and the armed passengers advanced towards them, threat-

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ening to fire if they did not leave the deck. Fortunately they did as they were told and, when once inside the forecastle, the carpenter fastened them in securely. While engaged in closing up all the openings by which the mutineers could reach the deck, the officers of the ship discovered that the cargo, which consisted mostly of beer and spirits, had been broached by the crew, who must for a long time have been helping themselves to whatever they wanted to drink; and that accounted for their insolence and mutinous behaviour. The discharged steward had evidently taken his revenge by inciting the crew to beat the captain who had beaten him.

When the crew were all securely confined to their quarters the captain called for volunteers to sail the ship. There were several sailors amongst the passengers, and I, being familiar with the rigging, joined one of the watches. Fortunately there was not much wind, and towards evening we shortened sail and made things snug. I was one of the first to take my turn at steering the ship, and found it a bit tiring standing by the wheel for two hours at a time.

When order was restored attention was drawn to Macgregor, who was roaring like a wild bull and using abominable language. The mate got a long cork, forced it into his mouth and tied it securely behind his neck, gagging him effectively.

After being fastened up for two days without food the crew offered to return to duty. But it was not until effectual steps had been taken by removing the liquor stored near the sailors' quarters, that their submission was accepted.

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On nearing the coast of New Zealand we were astonished and rather alarmed to find that there were no official charts on board, and that the captain was trusting to an ordinary atlas map for directing his course. It caused a feeling of insecurity while passing through the groups of rocky islets that are found to the south of New Zealand; and we congratulated ourselves when we got safely through them and reached Otago harbour, our first port of call. 7

CHAPTER II

PORT CHALMERS

It proved to be a lovely summer morning, bright and warm and calm, when the pilot boat came alongside our vessel at Otago Harbour. The

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pilot-boat's crew were all Maoris, and when they heard Tamihana was on board they were greatly excited, as he was a great chief. We had arrived late in the afternoon, and the pilot had sent his crew ashore, telling them to return in the morning, when he meant to take the ship up to Port Chalmers.

When the pilot-boat came alongside the only passenger in it was a Maori gentleman in a tweed suit. As he stepped on to the deck one of the sailors, who was sweeping just where his foot was placed, uttered an oath and called him a clumsy nigger when, to his astonishment the Maori gentleman seized him by the scruff of the neck and cursed him in the most approved sailor fashion, which so astonished the sailor that he actually apologised for his mistake in thinking he was ignorant of the English language. The truth was that the chief Topi 8 had been brought up from childhood on an English whaling station, and was as familiar with all the sailors' forms of abusive speech as he was with the words of his own mother

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tongue. Topi had come on board to greet Tamihana, and to invite him to go ashore and be Taiaroa's 9 guest at Otago Heads. I was included in the invitation; but we preferred to go first to Port Chalmers, and promised to return to the Heads in a few days when, after seeing the ship's agents, we should know how long the Slains Castle would remain in port.

The morning flood-tide carried us up to Port Chalmers. The water was as smooth as glass, and we glided noiselessly up to our anchorage. We were delighted with the scenery all round the harbour. I longed to reach the shore and find myself once again under New Zealand trees, listening to the korimako and riroriro, and watching the antics of fantails in pursuit of insects.

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There were only two buildings upon the shore --a small hotel and the custom house. Forests covered all the hillsides down to the water's edge, and the supplejacks were so thick that it was impossible to make way through them. A narrow track had been cleared from the Port to Dunedin, but it was so muddy we never ventured more than a few yards along it.

Unlike passengers by the modern ocean-going boats, who are the first to ask for news of the outside world on arriving in port, we, on the contrary, were the first to be asked for news by the residents, everyone wanting to be told the latest English and European news.

Mr. Reynolds, 10 the ship's agent, gave us to understand that we should have a long detention in Otago, owing to the disorganisation of the labour market, caused by the discovery of gold in Victoria, and the departure of so many men for that colony.

The Scotch emigrants and their luggage were all taken up the harbour to Dunedin in lighters, which proved a slow and tedious business. To further complicate matters our crew struck work, and were all taken off to prison in Dunedin, where they remained until we sailed again two months afterwards.

The Dunedin gaol was unlike any other I ever heard of, and was conducted on the voluntary principle, that is to say, prisoners could go or stay as they pleased. The building was so insecure the

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gaoler was compelled to adopt very lenient measures to induce prisoners to remain in it. The men were allowed liberty for a few hours every day, giving their word of honour to be back at the right time. Finding they were housed and fed at the public expense, and that they gained nothing by trying to abscond, the prisoners, as a rule, submitted to the gaoler's regulations, and called the prison their hotel. 11 The fact was, there were no criminals amongst them. They mostly consisted of sailors imprisoned for refusing to obey orders.

A few days after our arrival a Maori whale-boat came alongside to fetch Tamihana and myself to the Maori pa at the Heads. We got there late in the afternoon, and were received by the chiefs Taiaroa and Karetai 12 and Topi, and taken to a house close to the beach, where we remained for a few days. I was surprised to find how readily I could adapt myself to the Maori ways of life; eating and sleeping and passing the day in one

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DUNEDIN IN 1856

From a painting by J. Turnbull Thomson. Surveyor-General, housed in the Otago Early Settlers' Association Museum. This depicts the town much as Stack saw it. As an indication of the large area added to the city by harbour reclamation it may be of interest to note that the nearest small white building near the foreshore occupies the site of the new (1936) post office. The end of the jetty marks, approximately, the position of the premises of the publishers of this volume, at 33 Jetty Street.

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PORT CHALMERS IN 1848

From a painting by Charles H. Kettle, chief surveyor of the New Zealand Company, who arrived at Otago in 1846 and took up his residence at Koputai (Port Chalmers). The painting is reproduced by the courtesy of the Otago Early Settlers' Association.

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TE MATENGA TAIAROA

Taiaroa was perhaps the most notable of Otakou (Otago) Maoris. He was a great chief, a brave warrior, and a man of generous instincts. He took an active part in the inter-tribal warfare resulting from the raids of Te Rauparaha at Kaiapoi and Banks Peninsula, and was present among the defenders at the sacking of Kaiapohia. He died in 1863, about eleven years after Stack met him. The portrait is reproduced from one in the possession of the Turnbull Library.

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room where Maoris were coming and going at all hours, and where talking was incessant.

I found Topi the most inquisitive of questioners. He wanted to know everything about our voyage, and what was going on in England, and I could get a little rest only by strolling along the beach, or over the high sandhills at the back of the pa.

When I looked round on my companions and noticed their friendly and kindly behaviour to one another, I could not help thinking of the wonderful change that had taken place in the character of the New Zealanders. Twenty-five years before they were deadly enemies, and fought against one another at Kaiapohia, where Taiaroa was defeated by Rauparaha, Tamihana's father, who burnt Kaiapohia, and killed and ate most of the inhabitants. Now the defeated general of the South Islanders, and two of his trusted officers, were entertaining the son of the man who had treated their relatives and friends with such savage cruelty, and were treating him as a welcome and honoured guest. The change in their attitude towards one another was due to their having embraced Christianity, and submitted to its enlightened rules of conduct. They had exchanged the vindictive heathen heart for the forgiving Christian heart--the "new heart" as the Maoris rightly called it. As we read, sang and prayed together that first night I spent with the Maoris on shore at Otago Heads, I realised what a bond of union and fellowship our Christian faith is between men of all ranks and races who accept it, and what a transforming power it possesses when

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it can change ferocious cannibals into gentle and courteous Christians such as the people I was then associating with.

CHAPTER III

OTAGO HEADS AND DUNEDIN

AFTER spending the best part of a week with Taiaroa, Tamihana was invited to pay a visit to Karetai, who was better known as "Jacky White," 13 the name bestowed upon him by the whalers, probably because his face was so completely covered with tattooing that it looked bluish-black. He lived on the brow of a hill overlooking the sea, about two miles away, in a small weather-board house consisting of one room, only partly floored. His family consisted of a stout young half-caste woman, who was his second wife, and her sturdy child, just two years old. We all slept and took our meals together in the one room, the cooking being done in the large fireplace which took up half one side of the building.

I found old Karetai a particularly interesting man to talk to. He had often been to Sydney in whaling vessels, where he met the Rev. Samuel

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Marsden, who took a special interest in him, and who invited Karetai and his wife to spend a year at Parramatta, where Mr. Marsden gave them Christian instruction. Unfortunately, while with him they contracted measles, and carried the infection back to Otago Heads, where a fatal epidemic broke out which carried off the bulk of the population, not only there but wherever Maoris lived along the coast to the south.

Karetai had taken a leading part in the fights with Rauparaha when he invaded the South Island, and while leading a force of South Islanders against that chief at Oraumoa he was wounded in the knee and lamed for life, and also lost the sight of one eye. I thought it spoke well for the sincerity of his Christian faith that he was so desirous to show his old enemy's son some proof of his kindly feelings towards him, by doing his best to entertain him. He had procured some special delicacies, and charged his wife in our hearing to bestir herself and cook a good meal for our refreshment. She commenced by baking a loaf of excellent bread in the camp oven. That, and boiled potatoes and fried meat, and tea made in a great kettle and sweetened with brown sugar which tasted rather like weak rum and water, formed our repast, which I really enjoyed, in spite of the strange way in which the food was served, and the soiled and untidy look of everything about us. It was impossible to feel critical when one's host and hostess were evidently actuated by feelings of genuine hospitality, and doing their best.

During the night a violent easterly gale sprang up, with pouring rain, which continued for three

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days without intermission. During all that time we were confined to the house, and soon found that we had exhausted the food supplies procured for our benefit, and had to be content with boiled potatoes and weak tea without sugar at every meal. Fortunately, just before sunset on the third day it cleared up, and we had a visit from Timothy, Karetai's son, who lived half a mile off, and who, on finding the plight we were in, went in search of a pig. The sound of a gunshot soon afterwards told us that he had found one. Before nightfall Timothy appeared with a large joint of pork, and our hostess soon had some tempting cutlets frizzling on the glowing embers, and emitting a most appetising smell. Timothy also brought us bread, milk and sugar, which helped to make our meal most enjoyable.

The next morning we bade good-bye to the old chief, and returned to the beach settlement where Taiaroa lived. It was there that I saw what even Maoris regarded as a great curiosity--a woman whose face was completely tattooed. 14 She was a lady of high rank, and was treated with as much deference by the other women as Taiaroa himself, to whom she was closely related.

One fine morning, about an hour after sunrise, a couple of whaleboats returned to the beach after an absence of two hours, during which the crews had succeeded in filling both boats with barracouta,

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which swarmed at certain times of the tide just outside the bar. Each fish was nearly a yard in length, and proved very good eating. They are easily caught with a hook, attached to a short rod, and baited with a piece of red rag, kept bobbing on the surface of the water. The voracious barracouta snap at the bait, and are jerked into the boat before they can open their mouths and release the bait. The fishermen have to be very careful when withdrawing a hook from the fish's mouth, as its sharp fangs are apt to pierce their hands. I was warned not to put my hand anywhere near the mouth of the fish in the boat, in case of being bitten.

Finding that the boats were going up to Dunedin to sell their catch of fish, Tamihana and I decided to go with them. On the way up the harbour we were caught in a squall, and nearly capsized. We were all so drenched that the Maoris landed in a woody cove 15 and made a huge fire, beside which we dried ourselves. The storm cleared off almost as quickly as it had sprung up, and we continued our course to the town of

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Dunedin, which consisted of a few houses scattered about the hillside. 16 The cutting through the Bell Hill at the top of Princes street was so muddy that it was hard to get through it. Looking in the direction of the North East Valley, only one small building, in the middle of what looked like a flax swamp, could be seen. It is from these small beginnings that I have seen Dunedin grow into the large and handsome city it has now become.

At the time of my first visit to Dunedin it was exclusively a Scotch settlement. There was only one English family amongst the residents, and they bore a name well known, but not loved, by all school boys who had been forced to study the pages of his Eton Latin grammar. 17 We new arrivals were much amused to see in the local paper an article scolding the Valpy family for setting the bad example of wasting precious time, and the energies of a bullock team and a man to drive them, on a frivolous picnic. The first settlers belonged to a very strict sect, we were told, called Cameronians. Amongst our passengers was a

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youth named Gillies, 18 destined to display, when his time came to enter the ministry of the Scotch Church, a genial and Christian spirit. The discovery of gold in Otago, early in the 'sixties, changed the whole character of the place and people. There was no respect of persons at the goldfields, where the population soon became cosmopolitan. Dunedin, through which all the traffic passed, lost its exclusively Scotch character, and the population became largely mixed up with English and Irish.

Towards evening, when the Maoris had disposed of their boatload of fish, they pulled us down the harbour to Port Chalmers, where we were glad to get on board our ship again. Our stay with the Maoris at Otago Heads had taught us to appreciate the superior cleanliness of our own surroundings in the Stains Castle, and the greater variety and wholesomeness of the food we got there.

CHAPTER IV

A PERILOUS VOYAGE TO PORT NICHOLSON

OUR stay at Port Chalmers had been so prolonged that we were not sorry to hear the anchor being

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weighed, to see the sails being loosened, and the old pilot standing by the captain, giving his orders as we moved from the anchorage. 19 The crew, who since our arrival had been lodged in the Dunedin prison, were brought alongside by the police, and sent below until the ship was over the bar, and the pilot's boat had returned to the shore, when they were called aft and ordered to resume their duties, which they did without demur.

As a strong north-westerly wind was blowing, the captain decided to beat up the coast against it. All night long we sailed away from the coast, returning towards it after daylight. We sighted land somewhere near the mouth of the River Waitaki, and again the ship's head turned seaward. This zig-zagging course was pursued for several days, owing to the continuance of the foul wind. The coast opposite to us was very low, and fringed for its entire length with cabbage palms, which gave it a very tropical look. Occasionally we caught sight of the snowy mountains at the back of the low-lying land which I afterwards got to know so well as the Canterbury Plains, where I was destined to spend nearly forty years of my life.

So much cargo had been landed at Otago that our ship had a very slight hold upon the water, and presented so much surface to the wind that, when beating against it, she went almost as fast sideways as forwards. We made so little progress day by day that everybody grew very despondent,

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and our depression was increased by one of the passengers who, with his wife, was going back to Wellington, and who persisted in telling stories about wrecks on the coast, due to the violent southerly gales which always followed a long continuance of north-westerly winds. Our ship was evidently not seaworthy, being so high out of the water, and we all dreaded being out in her on the coast in stormy weather. Suddenly, without any warning, a furious gale rushed up from the south, and we were soon flying before it under double-reefed topsails. Our nervous Wellingtonian prophet of woe was busy, map in hand, showing everybody he could get to listen to him, that we were heading straight for the dreaded Palliser Bay, where so many ships had been lost, and that if we kept our present course we should be wrecked about midnight. He was so positive that our course ought to be altered that Major Richardson and other passengers went as a deputation to the captain to entreat him, since he himself confessed that he knew nothing of the coast, to listen to the advice of a man who did. But he refused to alter the course, and assured the deputation that we were only going half as fast through the water as they thought. According to the captain's calculations we should reach Wellington about ten o'clock the next morning.

Tamihana and I packed up all our things so that we might be ready to land as soon as the ship anchored in harbour. We retired to our bunks and slept soundly. About midnight I was awoke by a tremendous noise on deck. I had never heard anything like it during the voyage. I got up as

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quickly as I could, and ran to the top of the companion ladder leading on to the deck. The moment my head was level with it I took in the whole situation. The fore topsail had broken away from its fastenings, and the sail and ropes and blocks were threshing against the mast. The captain was shouting orders through a speaking trumpet, but could not make himself heard above the roar of the wind and waves. I went up on to the poop and stood near the captain, who was without hat or shoes, with only an overcoat thrown over his night-shirt. He was very angry that his orders were not being carried out, and that so few of the crew were on deck, the reason being, as we afterwards discovered, that the mutinous portion of the crew had again got hold of spirits, and they and many of the steerage passengers, thinking our condition hopeless, had all got drunk. It was only Scorgie, our first mate, and a portion of the crew, who were doing anything to help the captain. I asked the captain what I could do.

"Go and say your prayers, and tell your friends we shall all be in Kingdom Come in less than half an hour."

I ran down and told Tamihana and the Booths of the plight we were in and, fastening my plaid shawl round my waist, returned to the deck, where I remained for several hours, attending to any ropes the captain wanted tightened or loosened anywhere round the poop deck. Though the wind was bitterly cold, and the frequent squalls attended with rain and sleet, I kept quite warm, though I had nothing but a thin shirt on and a shawl round

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my waist. The excitement and anxiety kept me at fever heat all the time.

As it grew light I could see the high land against which the gale was driving us, and watched with great anxiety our ship drawing nearer and nearer to the surf-beaten shore. There was a great curve in the coast, and the wind and tide prevented our being able to beat out of the bay. Every time we thought we should succeed in doing so and escaping into the straits, the curving point of the bay held us in, and forced us to turn about or go on the rocks.

Hoping to gain ground on the next tack, the captain went closer in than he had done before; but the rollers made the ship quite unmanageable, and turning to escape them, the ship missed stays, and we had to wear round through the surf. My heart came into my mouth during this operation, for our ship was tossed like a cork by the huge waves. But slowly we drew away from the shore, and felt safer for a time. We were soon thrown into a state of still greater alarm by the effect of a violent squall that struck our rigging and broke the bowsprit short off, when the foremast, having lost its support, snapped off too, carrying away the foretop-gallant mast, which fell on the deck, but fortunately did not hurt anyone. The bowsprit, which was floating alongside and being held by the ropes attached to it, was pounding against the side of the vessel, and endangering its safety. The mates, with axes, were chopping away at the thick ropes, to free the spars and get the vessel clear of them. All the time this was being done we were helplessly drawn along by the wind and

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the waves. Our slow progress turned out to be in our favour, for as the day advanced the wind abated, and as we approached the Wellington end of Palliser Bay, for the first time we noticed to our joy that the tide was in our favour, and was carrying us away from the shore.

Jutting out from the Cape was a reef of rocks which lay right across our bows, and seemed to bar our further progress. But the captain, who had gone aloft to get a good view of what was in front of us, noticed a gap in the reef, just wide enough to let us pass through it, and knowing the ship was drawing only a few feet of water he steered straight for it, and to our intense relief we got safely through, and sailed, with what was now a fair wind, into Wellington harbour. Before going to breakfast a few of us met in Major Richardson's cabin for a thanksgiving service for our narrow escape.

As we sailed up the harbour to our anchorage we presented a very weather-beaten appearance, and excited a great deal of curiosity amongst the people on shore. As soon as we dropped anchor several watermen's boats came alongside, and the Major and Tamihana and I, and several others, got into one, and told the two boatmen to push off; they would not do so, however, until so many had got in that the boat was dangerously overloaded. To add to the risk of capsize they hoisted a huge sail which, in the squally condition of the weather, was a most dangerous thing to do. We soon saw that the men were half drunk and quite reckless.

"It looks," said one of our number, "as if we

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had only been saved from shipwreck in Palliser Bay, to be drowned going ashore." Wellington harbour swarmed with sharks, and no swimmer dare go far from the beach. Any who did were almost certain to lose their lives. Once or twice the boat threatened to capsize in the sudden gusts of wind, but the speed at which it travelled through the water prevented our being swamped. We landed opposite Barrett's hotel, 20 where we were recommended to put up.

CHAPTER V

A RIDE WITH TAMIHANA

WELLINGTON was not then the capital of New Zealand, though aspiring to that position. It was a very insignificant-looking town. A few scattered buildings lined the beach, and at either end stood a Maori pa, with a few European houses here and there around it. The ubiquitous German was already in evidence, for the best hotel in the place was kept by Baron Aldersen, 21 and there were others of the same nationality sprinkled about.

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There were very few shops to be seen, and the habits of those who kept them proved that business was very slack. The Major and I wanted to make some purchases at a draper's, but on reaching the door at ten o'clock in the morning found it closed. We called again at eleven and found it still closed, and it was not until after repeated knocking at the door that we could get our wants attended to.

I called at Government House shortly after our arrival, and the next day, while walking along Lambton Quay with Tamihana, met Sir George Grey, who was very friendly, and invited me to lunch on the following day, when I could tell Lady Grey the story of our narrow escape.

When lunch was announced I noticed the Governor and Lady Grey exchanged looks, and instead of going at once to the dining-room they waited for five minutes, and then we went in and took our seats. Just as the first course was finished a striking looking young man, with a profusion of black curly hair, came in, uttering many apologies for being late, and explaining that he wished to finish a patch which he had put on the elbow of the light coat he was wearing, and which he showed Lady Grey with great pride. His host and hostess were highly amused at the sight of the specimen of amateur tailoring displayed by their distinguished visitor, who was no other than Lord Robert Cecil, afterwards Marquis of Salisbury and Prime Minister of England. He had travelled overland from Auckland, and in passing through the scrub and fern which lined the narrow native paths, had worn his clothes threadbare and into

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holes in many places. Sir George, who was himself a veteran traveller and explorer, thoroughly appreciated Lord Cecil's self-reliance in the matter of clothes repairs. 22

As soon as Tamihana had landed all his effects and arranged for their transport to Otaki he invited Major Richardson, Mr. Pearson and myself to accompany him to his home there. He had already sent for a number of saddle-horses for our accommodation, and we formed quite a cavalcade riding out of Wellington early one morning. The road, which had been made by the military, proved to be a very good one. It passed through dense forests, and along the shores of Porirua Harbour, thence along the side of the steep Paekakariki hills to the Otaki beach, along which we rode for forty miles.

Tamihana had often told us on board ship that Otaki was a town, and not a Maori pa; and we were pleased on entering the place to find that his description of it was more correct than we had expected. The streets were all at right angles, and each house stood in its own compound. His own house faced a sort of village green. It was a good sized one, and I was pleased to find the two front rooms decorated after the best Maori style. The slabs supporting the walls were covered with scroll work, and the spaces between the slabs filled up with reeds and battens, on which were

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worked, with flax, the patterns usually seen on the best kind of Maori baskets. Our bedrooms, which were upstairs, were nicely furnished and kept very clean; and we were waited on by three strapping half-caste girls, who were the natural daughters of a captain in the army, who lived with an aunt of Tamihana for many years before returning to England.

Mrs. Tamihana, who was called Rutu, or Ruth, could not speak a word of English, and evidently thought her husband's English ways rather a bore. She used to take her place at one end of the table at our meals, but never ate anything that required the use of a knife and fork. Tamihana treated her very nicely, and always helped her first to anything she would take.

A good-looking young Maori man, in a spotless white shirt and black trousers, kept in their place by a crimson silk waistband, stood behind Tamihana's chair during our meals, and waited upon us with great skill, which it puzzled me to know how he had acquired till I was told that he had been a waiter in an hotel in Wellington for two years. His history was a curious one. Some time between 1830 and 1840 Tamihana's father (Te Rauparaha) went to visit a great chief named Te Hapuku at Hawke's Bay, and presented to him a keg of tobacco. Hapuku, in return, presented old Rauparaha with a smart-looking slave boy, whom he at once named "Tobacco." He grew up to be a very useful servant and, though granted his freedom, preferred to serve his old master as long as he lived, and his son as long as he required his services.

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TAMIHANA TE RAUPARAHA PERSUADING THE HOSTILE CHIEFS TO PEACE

When Te Rauparaha was made prisoner by Sir George Grey in 1846 his son Tamihana was a student at St. John's College, Auckland. The chiefs of Ngati Toa, Ngati Raukawa and Waikato urged his return to Otaki so that the tribes could be gathered together to revenge the indignity and liberate the captive. Tamihana Te Rauparaha returned to Otaki, and he is here shown successfully persuading the hostile chiefs to peace. (From an old print in the possession of Mr. Horace Fildes.)

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TAMIHANA TE RAUPARAHA'S AUTOGRAPH

Stack and Tamihana travelled together from Otago to Wellington, and thence to Tamihana's home at Otaki. On their arrival the chief wrote a letter to Major Richardson, their fellow-passenger from England on the "Slains Castle." The letter, in the possession of the Otago Early Settlers' Association, is dated 9th February, 1853, and the concluding lines are here reproduced: --"You must also pray to your God for me that I may act well towards my people."

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ARCHDEACON ROBERT MAUNSELL

One who knew Archdeacon Maunsell pays this flne tribute: --"A man of strenuous energy and unparalleled devotion to his work, he was of a singular reticence, and the last thing that seemed to enter his mind was to claim credit for his performances. See page 175 of Volume I of Stack's recollections ("Early Maoriland Adventures") for a biographical note relating to Dr. Maunsell, supplied by his son, Mr. Herbert Maunsell, by whose courtesy this and the adjoining photograph are reproduced.

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This young waiter I afterwards met in Canterbury in 1859, where he was the ringleader of rather a gay lot of young North Island men, who caused a good deal of trouble to the local native authorities, whom they treated with great disrespect. I was very glad when the gold rush to the West Coast carried him and his wild companions away to another part of the country. On the West Coast Simon became quite a reformed character, gave up all his wild ways, became a communicant and then a lay-reader, and, after Koro's death, my chief lay assistant on Banks Peninsula. He won, by years of devoted work for God amongst his countrymen, the love and respect of all who knew him.

Nearly opposite Tamihana's house, on the opposite side of the green, stood the church, 23 a large and imposing specimen of Maori architecture. It was about a hundred feet long and thirty wide. The ridge pole, which was cut out of one large forest tree, was supported by several pillars formed out of forest trees. The sides of the building were formed with broad slabs, two feet six inches wide, and placed about the same distance apart. The slabs were covered with scroll work in black and white and red, and so were the rafters which rested upon them. The spaces between the slabs were covered with elaborate designs worked upon narrow strips of wood dyed black. The communion rails were elaborately carved. There were no seats, as the congregation squatted on the

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wooden floor, the men on one side of the church and the women on the other. The English visitors were very much impressed by the orderly conduct and fervour displayed by the large congregation which filled the church on Sunday, and expressed their pleasure at witnessing the success which had attended Archdeacon Hadfield's self-denying labours since he first settled at Otaki in 1839.

On my return to Wellington I hoped to find some vessel going to Auckland, but could hear of none. There was no regular communication either by sea or land in 1853 between the different towns in New Zealand, and I had to wait for months before I got a passage to my destined port. I had left London in August, 1852, for Auckland by way of Otago and Wellington, and it was not until a troopship called at Wellington on its way to the north that I reached my final destination.

While waiting at Wellington I made the acquaintance of Mr. and Mrs. Henry St. Hill, 24 great friends of Archdeacon Hadfield and of Bishop Selwyn. They helped to make my enforced stay in Wellington less irksome than it otherwise would have been. It was at their house that I met Mr. Robert Godley, 25 the leader of the Canter-

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bury Pilgrims, who was then on his way back to England.

I made the acquaintance of Lieutenant-Governor Eyre during my stay in Wellington. He was a noted Australian explorer, where he carried on the work of exploration along the south-west coast after Sir George Grey, his fellow explorer, was appointed Governor of New Zealand. I was glad to learn from him that the Australian blacks were not without some good qualities, and that they were far from being the degraded creatures they were said to be by those who sought justification for their cruelties and injustices towards them. Governor Eyre was, unfortunately for himself, governing Jamaica at the time of the rebellion, and became the victim of English sentimentalists, who condemned him unheard for his prompt suppression of the rebellion by the execution of the leaders. He was recalled in disgrace, and never afterwards employed by the State. 26

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CHAPTER VI

AUCKLAND TO WAIKATO HEADS

ON my arrival in Auckland I was very kindly received by Archdeacon and Mrs. Kissling, 27 who were living in Auckland, having removed from Kohimarama where they were living when I left New Zealand in 1847, to Parnell, where Bishop Selwyn had had a school built for them, which was called for St. Stephen's, where Maori girls were boarded, and also a few married Maori men who were being trained for the ministry. During the few weeks I stayed with the Kisslings I met several of the other missionaries, who all expressed their pleasure at seeing me back in New Zealand, and hearing from me about my father.

It was arranged that I should proceed to Waikato Heads as assistant to Dr. Maunsell, whose arrival in Auckland I was awaiting. One afternoon he appeared, in his shirt sleeves and very travel stained. He greeted me warmly, and asked if I was ready to return with the four young Maori men who accompanied him, and who were going back to Waikato in three days. I expressed my readiness to do so, and he told me that during the return journey I might ride his horse, which

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the lads had charge of. This was a good beginning, I thought, to our intercourse, and I left Auckland with a lighter heart than I had anticipated.

We camped the first night on the banks of a stream that was little wider than a broad ditch, but too deep to ford. It was in flood from heavy rains in the hills where it took its rise. As there was no sign in the morning of the flood subsiding, the young men collected a quantity of korari sticks 28 and made a raft with them. Then they plaited a strong flax rope, and one of their number swam across and drew the rope after him. When he had fastened it securely, the tent and our effects were carried across on the raft. The horse was then swum over the stream, and I was taken over last, as I wanted to be sure that nothing was left behind in our camp.

As we marched along the Maori path we heard a bull bellowing at no great distance, and soon saw him tearing down a hill and coming towards us. The young men had already told me about a savage bull that infested the neighbourhood through which we were passing, and as soon as they saw the animal rushing through the fern they were greatly alarmed. I, too, felt afraid, for although I was mounted I was not a skilled horseman, and did not quite know what to do. But as we were upon an open plain, and nothing higher than bracken up to our knees to hide in, there was nothing left to us but to push on and hope for the best. The bull had disappeared from sight into some gully, but soon reappeared

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quite close to us. Instead of coming straight towards us, however, he followed a course parallel to the path we were on. We then discovered to our great relief that a narrow but impassable swamp separated the savage beast from us, and we took no further notice of his angry bellowings, and pursued our course unmolested.

When crossing a river, not far from what was afterwards known as Runciman's Bush, 29 the Maoris told me a curious legend relating to the locality. Once upon a time a god, in the form of a monstrous flat fish, occupied the pool at the foot of the falls where the ford was situated. This fish-god consumed any small party of travellers who passed his way and drank or made any use of the river waters. A great chief passing that way, who was tormented by lice in his hair, wanted to wash his head, but feared to do so, and went on his way till he came to a pool on the road, formed by recent rains, when he took a piece of pipeclay out of his pouch (the Maori substitute for soap) and rubbed it into his head. While stooping down and rubbing his hair, and washing it in the pool, he did not notice that water from the river, like an incoming tide, was surrounding him; and when he looked up he saw that the whole country around him was under water. The fish-god had flooded the land, in order that it might capture and devour the man. But he, being a very learned tohunga, repeated powerful charms and incantations, which defeated the fish-god's purpose, and he escaped.

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From the river we marched on to Waiuku, where I passed over the land given by the chiefs of Waikato to my father as compensation for the outrage upon him, perpetrated by Awarahi at Mangapouri in 1835. 30 The New Zealand Government refused to recognise my father's claim to the land, and took possession of it, which has always seemed to me an act of great injustice.

I slept the second night in a fortified pa near the entrance to Manukau harbour. I wanted my tent to be pitched outside the stockade, but my companions said the pigs were so numerous that they would annoy me during the night. Before I left the place I saw a great number of very large fat pigs moving about outside the fences, and felt glad that I had escaped having them for bedfellows.

This pa obtained a bad reputation a few years afterwards, for a murder which, indirectly, brought the King movement to a head, and caused the rupture of friendly relations between the English and the Maoris. A very intelligent young man named (if I remember rightly) Hamiora had a wife to whom he was deeply attached. She went into a rapid consumption and died. Hamiora suspected someone had bewitched her, and resolved to avenge her death. He saw the person he suspected go down to the beach one day to collect pipis (a white bivalve the Maoris were very partial to). He immediately loaded his gun and followed the person until he reached a patch of tall flax, where he concealed himself and awaited her return. As the pipi-gatherer came back bending under the

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heavy load of shell fish, Hamiora fired and killed her.

The Maoris throughout the whole country were terribly shocked, and Osborne the Manukau chief sent to Colonel Wynyard 31 asking for a policeman to come and apprehend Hamiora, promising that the Maoris would protect the policeman, and escort him and his prisoner back to Auckland. Colonel Wynyard feared to enforce the law, which was binding on both Maoris and English as British subjects, and he refused to apprehend the murderer. When Osborne proposed to seize Hamiora himself, and deliver him up to justice, the old tribal jealousies revived, and Hamiora's Waikato relations refused to allow that to be done, and said they themselves would take charge of him and see justice done.

Hamiora was taken by his friends up the Waikato, and negotiations entered into with the Government as to what should be done with the murderer. Colonel Wynyard, the acting Governor, advised the Maoris to wait until the new Governor, Sir Thomas Gore-Browne, arrived. And so the matter was hung up indefinitely, which scandalised the Maoris very much. They saw that the murder of a Maori was not regarded by the Governor, who administered the Queen's laws, as a crime of the same magnitude as the murder of a white man would be. They were plainly told that the Queen's Maori subjects were not as much under the protection of the law as the English were.

This led the Maori chiefs to devise some scheme of self-government, not in opposition to

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the Queen, but to provide machinery for enforcing her laws upon her Maori subjects. The action of the chiefs was entirely misunderstood and misrepresented by interested English people, who coveted the Maori lands, and desired a large military expenditure of money in the country. Consequently the Maori desire for orderly government and the protection of life and property under the Queen's laws, was stigmatised as rebellion against her authority, and war broke out between the two races who ought never to have been involved in it.

I shall never forget the feelings of interest and expectation through which I passed when I emerged from the tall flax, and stood for the first time on the long sandy beach between Manukau and the river Waikato. The surf was beating loudly on the strand where the white-crested rollers, rushing one behind another, could be seen stretching far out to sea.

To my left, as I rode along, rose high hills of sand, which had been piled up in the course of ages by the prevailing westerly winds. Many of the sandhills a little way back from the coast were hundreds of feet high, and covered hundreds of square miles, all of which had probably formed part of the original Waikato estuary.

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Portion of the North Island of New Zealand
To illustrate the life and journeys of J. W. Stack
Drawn by A. W. Reed