CHAPTER IV. NATHANIEL TURNER.
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CHAPTER IV.
NATHANIEL TURNER.
THE Rev. Messrs. Turner and Hobbs were passengers in the Brampton in 1823. Three days afterwards, they went overland to Wangaroa. All hands were busy at work in the station, when the shout was heard--"Pakeha!" (white man). The two missionaries were on the spot. Moved by curiosity, the Maories collected together to see what they were like. It was an exciting occasion. They returned to the Bay, chartered a small schooner, the Schnapper, to convey them and their luggage round, and Mr. Marsden went with them.
It was winter: the station was in its embryo state. They climbed up a clay bank to their first New Zealand home. The house was unfinished. Mrs. Leigh, being the only lady in the place, was heartily glad to greet Mrs. Turner. Mr. Marsden was welcomed by all. The Maories ran to pay their respects to him, and kept the station in an uproar all the day. He stayed with them over the Sunday, preached, and administered the communion to the mission family. He took a fatherly interest in their affairs; marked the improvements on the station; and held converse with the chiefs and people, inquiring as to their conduct, the state of the school, and all things concerning their welfare. Mr.
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Leigh's health having suffered, he urged and persuaded him and Mrs. Leigh to go with him to Sydney for the sake of medical advice.
The mission staff at Wangaroa was now made up of Mr. and Mrs. Turner, Messrs. White, Hobbs, and Stack, Luke Wade, an artizan, and a nurse-girl that Mrs. Turner brought with her from Sydney. Of these Mr. Stack alone could speak the language. The little party felt their position;--their work was before them, and they set themselves to do it.
Mr. Turner succeeded Mr. Leigh as Superintendent. Born in Cheshire, in 1793, he was left an orphan at an early age. When sixteen years old, he was the subject of converting grace. In 1820, he was nominated for the ministry: ordained in the following year, he sailed, with his wife, for New Zealand, by way of Sydney. The station on which they now found themselves was sequestered among hills and mountains, of almost every size and shape. The vale is about twelve miles from the Heads, which open into a spacious harbour, where the largest fleet may ride safely. The tribes that lived on the banks of this river were spoken of as the vilest in the land.
The little band had to "endure hardness." George --the same man who instigated the destruction of the Boyd--was their chief, and he gave them much trouble. When angry, he would threaten them with the fate of the murdered crew. After his rage was spent, placing his hand to his heart, he would say, "When my heart is quiet here, then I love Mr. Turner very much; but when my heart rises to my throat, then I could kill him." But it rose to his throat very often.
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Mr. Turner had been only a short time at Wangaroa, when, going one morning over the hill, he came upon small tribe who were preparing to eat the body of slave. With much ado, he was allowed to bury the unconsumed remains.
The missionaries sought to instruct the children: they were apt, but volatile, and self-willed. In order to teach them, they had likewise to feed and to clothe them. A son of Te Puhi was one of their scholars: his mat was so filthy, that they had to put it into the large iron boiler of hot water. The father came to the mission-house, with several others, greatly excited, and demanded the boiler--it was tapu. He seized the pot, and was prevented from taking it only by sheer force. When food was cooked in it, the children would not eat it. At last, the old chief relented. He took some of the food into his own hands, and declared that now the tapu was gone.
When at family prayer, it was not uncommon for the natives to creep in, and steal something. A chief, for instance, would secrete the teapot within his mat. One day the dinner was cooked in the yard: while the table was being laid, inside, a hawk-eyed fellow got over the fence, and walked away with oven, dinner, and all. On washing days, basket and line, as well as garments, were tempting bait, and had to be narrowly watched. Such things as these were among the petty trials of the missionary pioneers.
In May, 1824, a new house was completed: the goods were removed into it by night, when the natives were asleep: a few trusted ones were told off to keep watch. But a valuable box of tools was missed: the party of thieves, with their chief at their head, was interrupted
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dividing the spoil. The next morning, while the mission family were at prayer, there was the sound of horrid yells in the yard--an armed body of the native were preparing to surround the house, with a view to plunder. This turbulence was a common thing. With their brethren of the Episcopalian mission, who had the same things to bear, they kept up a fraternal communication, oftentimes exchanging visits, to their mutual help and comfort.
The deputation of the London Missionary Society, Messrs. Tyerman and Bennett, with Mr. Threlkeld and son, put into Wangaroa, to see the missionaries on their way from Tahiti to Port Jackson. They were on board the Endeavour. The Maories crowded the deck, and began their pilfering tricks. In trying to clear the deck, a chief was jostled by the captain, and fell into the sea. This placed the lives of all on board in great danger. The natives took possession of the ship, and made the officers and crew prisoners. They armed themselves with axes, billets of wood, and whatever else they could lay hold of. Not one of the passengers or crew could stir. The captain was surrounded with spears. Mr. Bennett's arms were pinioned to his sides, while Messrs. Tyerman and Threlkeld were in custody, in another part of the ship. The howls and yells were terrific. Any attempt at resistance would have been followed by death: they all expected it every moment. The axe was uplifted, waiting only the signal to give the blow. The little boy asked his father, "Would it hurt them to be eaten? " All prepared to die, but the cook, rather than be devoured, thought of weighting his body and leaping overboard.
In this state of agonizing suspense, they remained
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for two hours, when the cry was heard, "A boat, a boat!" It had on board one of the missionaries and the chief Te Ara, who had come to invite the gentlemen to Wesley Dale. Their timely appearance saved their lives from destruction; but this circumstance left such an impression of danger upon the minds of the visitors, that they hurried away as quickly as they could clear the harbour, two of the missionaries keeping with them till they went out to sea.
The violence of Te Ara's temper often, and sorely, tried the patience of the missionaries. One day he brought a pig for sale: Mr. Turner gave him the full value for it; but not pleased with it, the savage insulted him: he dashed in pieces an iron pot, pushed Mr. Turner along the bank, and twice levelled his musket to shoot him. He was foaming with rage. Going away in a sulky mind, a loud scream was soon heard from the raupo house. He had scared the girl Betsy almost into fits. He went away, but returned in the afternoon.
His daughter Charlotte, who lived with Mrs. Turner, had cut her finger, and was crying. Seeing her in tears, the angry father seized her by the head and feet, and doubled her body. He lost hold of her as she fell to the ground, and she got away from him. Afterwards, he told Mrs. Turner that when he is in a rage he could destroy anything, and that had moved him to shoot her husband in the morning.
At another time, he jumped into the mission yard like a fury. Tossing his weapon into the air, he cried, "Where is Huki? I will kill Huki." He went through the window into the new kitchen, and seeing Huki's mat on the floor, he chopped it to pieces, All the natives fled
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from his presence. He flew from one room to another calling for Huki, but the boy was not to be found The reason of this freak of madness was simply that a few boards had been removed from the end of a rush house in which he was allowed to live, and he would kill the boy to gratify his angry passion. Such scenes were often repeated.
Just before the mission family were going to bed, one night, this chief entered the yard in his shirt, with a billhook in his hand, and quivering with passion. He stamped with his feet, tore to pieces whatever came in his way, and ordered the lads to be given up to him that he might kill them; and, gnashing his teeth, he said, "And I will eat them too." They wanted to know what they had done. He would give no reason until their blood was shed. After some time, he said that the boys had beaten his daughter, and that she was now lying with groans in their house. They told him that one of the girls was moaning, but it was not his daughter, and that the moaning was caused, not by a beating, but by illness. Then they were all brought before him, and when he saw them, he confessed that he had acted rashly, and went home deeply mortified.
These and similar instances of insecurity marked the every-day life of the mission family. That, in the midst of all, they were preserved from serious injury, they ascribed to the good providence of God, controlling the passions of savage men; and in effect saying, "Touch not mine anointed, and do my prophets no harm." At times, their lives seemed to hang upon a slender thread. "Gross darkness covered the minds of the people." Thus "in jeopardy every hour," they patiently endured, till January 9th, 1827.
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Before this, there had been several fightings, plundering, feastings on human bodies, and the like; but the initial difficulties were becoming less. The station was now in order; their garden and their field had become productive; they had "come again with rejoicing, bringing their sheaves" with them, and their barn was "filled with plenty." They had learnt the language, made visits to distant villages, and prepared several small books. Uncheered as yet by a single convert, they had reason to hope that a brighter day was about to dawn,--when lo, "sudden destruction cometh upon them."
Hongi and his warriors had invaded the place: the people shut themselves up in their fort; and the missionaries, thus deserted, were at the mercy of any marauders. Very soon, an armed body came to rob, and burn, and slay. The brethren and their family escaped only "by the skin of their teeth."
They had twenty miles to travel through forest, and fern, and thicket, to the Kerikeri, the nearest station. At the bend of a stream they met a war-party from Hokianga, under the command of Patuone. Their lives again trembled in the balance. The chief was humane, and, ordering the army to proceed, as they remained by his side, they were saved from the bloodthirstiness of the more savage men. When within six miles of the station, they met the Church of England missionaries and a company of natives, coming to their help. But it was not thought safe to remain there. Next day they proceeded in a boat to Paihia.
Bishop Williams thus recalls the scene:--
"It was a mournful sight when, on the 11h of January, 1827, the large boat of Paihia was seen on its way from Kerikeri with as many
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passengers crowded into it as it was capable of carrying. It contained all that remained of the mission station of Wangaroa,--Mrs. Turner with her three little children, and the rest of the party. Their clothes were contained in a few small bundles, which they carried in their hands the distance of twenty miles. Arriving at Kerikeri, the natives would not allow them to remain, fearing that that place would be the next to fall. They were thankful, therefore, to proceed onward to Paihia. It is not easy to describe the effect of this breach which had been made upon the mission body. The first thought was to comfort and relieve our friends who had lost their all--those friends whom some of us had visited in peace and security not two months before: the next was apprehension for our brethren at Kerikeri. Then, too, it was felt that every-one must pack up all they could send away by the ship Sisters, which was about to sail to New South Wales. News from every quarter showed that all the tribes were more or less involved in this horrible civil war, and the fate of Wangaroa opened our ears to listen to reports we had before disregarded, and showed us that we were all exposed to a like danger." 1
Thus fell the first Wesleyan mission station in New Zealand. I often heard the details of the mournful story from the lips of the fugitives. They left New Zealand for New South Wales on the 31st of January, 1827.
Six months afterwards, Mr. Stack returned, that he might be able to report as to any prospect of resuming the mission. By invitation of the powerful chief Patuone (who had saved the lives of the mission party in their flight from Wangaroa), and his brother Nene, the river Hokianga was chosen; and on the arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Hobbs, preparations were soon made for resuming the work at Mangungu.
Mr. Turner had gone to the Friendly Islands. The two chiefs accepted Christianity some years after that date, and were widely and honourably known by the names of Edward Marsh and Thomas Walker, or, as they read in Maori, Eruera Maihi and Tomati Waka.
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Hongi's death took place soon after that, and, from circumstances arising out of it, there were several acts of bloodshed, which culminated in a great hostile array at Waima.
It threatened to be one of the most sanguinary contests ever known in New Zealand, for the parties were inflamed with mutual resentment, and, like bloodhounds, longed for an opportunity to devour each other. But the missionaries were beginning to be a moral power in the land. At the hazard of their own lives they stepped between the contending tribes, and, after many days of tedious negotiations, they succeeded in concluding a mutual declaration of peace.
And now the first faint streaks of morning light appeared: the truth was laying hold of the mind, the conscience, the heart. Missionaries were desired for other tribes, books were greedily read, worship was, in many places, established.
During the following years, war, with all its attendant horrors, was rampant in some parts of the land, but on and around the mission stations many were baptized, and "sitting at the feet of Jesus, in their right minds and clothed." The "due" time had come, in which they who had so long "sown in tears" should "reap in joy." And "a new song" was put into their mouth: "for lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; the flowers appear on the earth, the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land."
A blessed change had come over the people when, in 1836, Mr. Turner resumed the charge of this important and now prosperous mission. The Rev. Messrs. Whiteley and Wallis had joined the little band. Mr. Woon had
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come from the Friendly Islands, and was in charge of the mission press at Mangungu. Mr. Stack was engaged in the service of the Episcopalian mission. Mr. Hobbs had been removed to Tonga; but soon after Mr. Turner's arrival, he returned to New Zealand, and by his long experience, his varied gifts, and mastery of the language, he greatly strengthened the mission.
Mr. Turner remained till the end of 1839, during which time several new stations were formed. He loved New Zealand, and would gladly have stayed there; but at that time, there were no prospects for a grown-up family. He therefore returned to Australia, where he exercised his earnest ministry in many circuits; but his zeal so far outran his strength, that in 1853 he was compelled to retire from active service, and become a supernumerary. He finished his course in the bosom of a large and happy family, at Brisbane, in 1864, and "he being dead, yet speaketh."
