Читать книгу An Old New Zealander; or, Te Rauparaha, the Napoleon of the South. - T. Lindsay Buick - Страница 6

When the period of feasting and enjoyment, which invariably followed upon the return of a successful Maori war party, had terminated at Kawhia, Te Rauparaha immediately became involved in a fresh struggle with Waikato. The cause of the hostility was remote; but, as Waikato had vowed to drive him out, no pretext was too slight upon which to base a quarrel. Thus the killing of one of their chiefs by a Taranaki warrior, to whom Te Rauparaha was related, was sufficient to justify the marching of a large war party against him. Their force advanced in two sections: the one came down the inland track, and the other, which was to actively engage Te Rauparaha, entered Kawhia from the sea. Two pas, Tau-mata-Kauae and Te Kawau, speedily fell before the invaders, and again Ngati-Toa were defeated at the battle of Te Karaka, on the borders of Lake Taharoa, after an heroic struggle, in which it is said that three hundred Ngati-Toa fought more than a thousand Waikatos. These disasters were indeed darkening the outlook for Ngati-Toa, and the position has been graphically described by one native historian, who states that "the losses of the tribe of Te Rauparaha were very great; by day and by night they were killed by Ngati-Pou." Success had also attended the arms of the section of Waikato who, under Te Wherowhero, had swept through the Waipa Valley and across the forest plateau until they reached the Wai-Kawau pa on the sea-coast, just north of the Mokau River. This they stormed and sacked by force of overpowering numbers, and, surfeited with victory, they united with their comrades at Te Karaka, and then triumphantly marched home.

With so many of his pas obliterated and his warriors slain, Te Rauparaha retired upon Te Arawi, a coastal stronghold built upon the summit of a forbidding-looking rock, which at full tide is completely surrounded by a breaking sea. Here he had leisure to reflect upon the lessening radius of his freedom and to formulate his plans for extricating his people from a position of increasing peril; and we may fairly assume that it was now that his final decision to migrate from Kawhia to Kapiti was taken. Once resolved on this course, he applied himself systematically to the task of persuading his people to enter into the spirit of the scheme, over which he himself had become so enthusiastic, and which he now deemed necessary to their safety. The task was by no means a simple one, for the impending danger was not so apparent to all the tribe as it was to their chief; and, moreover, there centred in the spot which he was asking them to leave the traditions and associations of all the centuries which had passed since their forefathers had first landed there from the pilgrim canoe. They knew each nook and corner, from the caves to the hill-tops, every point of which spoke to them of the beloved past. Here a rock which had been a trysting-place in some tragic love affair, there a haunt of spirits, yonder a burying-ground made sacred by the bones of their ancestors, and there again a battlefield hallowed by the memory of the fallen. Each of these was a tie dear to the Maori; and they were loath to leave all that linked them to the past and face a future full of doubt and uncertainty.

But the confidence which Te Rauparaha had inspired, and the prospect of guns and ammunition in abundance, gradually overcame these sentimental objections; and before long the Ngati-Toa people agreed to follow their chief whithersoever he might lead. Te Rauparaha was, however, prudent enough to recognise that his own section of the tribe, though brave at heart, were few in numbers for so serious an undertaking as the conquest of a new territory. As soon, therefore, as he had secured the consent of his own tribe, he paid a visit to Maungatautari, for the purpose of obtaining the co-operation of Ngati-Raukawa. With them he was no more successful at first than he had been with his own people. He pointed out their liability to attack, the difficulty in obtaining guns, shut out as they were from communication with the whalers, and the prospect of an easy victory over the weakened tribes of the coast. But they were reluctant to give up all that they possessed for a visionary and problematical success, and it was not till quite a year later that he was able even partially to break down their resistance. In pressing his claims upon the Ngati-Raukawa, he was materially aided by a somewhat romantic incident which occurred during his stay at Maungatautari. Although his mother was a Ngati-Raukawa woman, and by virtue of that fact he could claim chieftainship amongst them, Te Rauparaha was not regarded as a particularly brilliant star in their peerage; but what he lacked in pedigree was more than compensated for by his mental initiative and personal courage. Conscious of his own power, he never lost an opportunity of impressing it upon others; and it is therefore not a matter for surprise that he made the death of the Ngati-Raukawa chief the occasion of advancing his own claims to leadership.

Thus it was a fortunate circumstance for him that, while he was advocating the conquest of Kapiti, Hape Taurangi, the great chief of Maungatautari, was seized with a fatal illness, and, while the whole tribe sat silently waiting for the end, the question of succession seemed to trouble him, as he probably realised the absence of a master-mind amongst his own sons. To them he put the question: "Can you tread in my steps and lead my people to victory? Can you uphold the honour of the tribe?" To these interrogations not one of his sons replied, and the silent suspense remained unbroken, until Te Rauparaha, springing from the ring of warriors, exclaimed, "I am able to tread in your steps, and even do that which you could not do." The apparent presumption of this speech was lost in the general satisfaction, and, when Hape passed into the Great Beyond, Te Rauparaha took over his wives and his leadership, the latter of which he retained to his dying day.48 But the measure of authority which had passed to him on the death of Hape did not include the sole direction of Ngati-Raukawa's affairs. The tribe still looked to their natural leaders for guidance in domestic matters, and the new influence gained by Te Rauparaha in their councils, though considerable, was not sufficient to overcome the obduracy of the tribe towards what they chose to regard as his chimerical proposal.

Nothing daunted, however, by the refusal of his kinsmen to participate in his bold enterprise, Te Rauparaha proceeded with patient deliberation to make his own arrangements. These involved the most careful planning and delicate negotiation, for failure in any one direction might wreck the whole scheme. The first consideration was to secure safe conduct for his people through the territory of the Taranaki tribes, and the establishment of resting-places where the very old and very young could recover their strength, and where sufficient food could be grown to carry them on to the next point of vantage. To this end negotiations were entered into with the Ngati-Awa and Ngati-Tama chiefs, who were more or less connected with Ngati-Toa by inter-marriage. It would, however, be a mistake to elevate this racial relationship into a bond of sincere friendship between these tribes, for neither would have hesitated long about a proposal to destroy the other, had a favourable opportunity presented itself. Their attitude towards each other was distinctly one of armed neutrality, which at any moment might have broken out into open rupture. But even this negative attitude of the tribes proved useful to Te Rauparaha, as it enabled him to approach Ngati-Awa and Ngati-Tama with at least the semblance of friendship, while it deprived them of open hostility as a reason for refusing his requests. The concessions which the Ngati-Toa leader asked for were therefore granted, though grudgingly; but he could no more persuade Ngati-Awa to go with him than he could impress the Ngati-Raukawa; and when he reminded them of the change which was coming over the system of Maori warfare, and the weakness in which they would be left by his departure, they laughed at his misgivings, boasted of their ancient mana, and told him that his fears were altogether unworthy of a chief of his standing. How dearly they paid for their lack of foresight is told in the fall of Puke-rangiora pa a few years later, when the Waikatos swept down upon them and drove them flying into the arms of the man whose counsel they had so carelessly despised.

Having thus diplomatically arranged an open road for the passage of his people to the south, he found it equally essential to secure an unmolested departure from the north. He therefore appreciated the necessity of making terms with his old enemy, Te Wherowhero, of Waikato, and in this important negotiation he availed himself of the services of two Ngati-Mania-poto chiefs, who occupied the country close to Kawhia and were on friendly terms with Te Wherowhero. These chiefs paved the way for a conference, at which Te Rauparaha appears to have been unusually candid with his old antagonist. He frankly unfolded to him the details of his proposed migration, and, in consideration of Te Wherowhero's guaranteeing him immunity from attack, he, on his part, agreed to cede the whole of the Ngati-Toa lands to the Waikato tribes after his people had vacated them. Such easy acquisition of a valuable piece of country was not without its influence upon Te Wherowhero. But he was even more impressed by its strategic than by its inherent value. The migration of Ngati-Toa would rid him of a troublesome enemy on the west, and enable him to concentrate all his forces on his eastern frontier, where he would be the better able to resist the aggressions of that other remarkable figure in Maori history, Te Waharoa, should it ever occur to that warrior to attack him. On the understanding, then, that Kawhia was to be formally ceded to him, Te Wherowhero undertook not to molest the migrating tribe, either during their preparations or on the actual march.

The question of immunity from attack having been thus satisfactorily disposed of, the next matter which Te Rauparaha had to consider was the securing of an adequate supply of provisions for his people during their pilgrimage. As it was impossible to complete the journey in a single season, it was necessary not only that large quantities of food should be carried with them, but that planting-places should be established at various points along the route of march, where these supplies could be renewed from time to time. None of these details were overlooked, but all were worked out with mathematical exactitude by the consummate organiser in whose brain the migration had been planned; and the smoothness and precision with which these precautions dovetailed together furnish a remarkable example of high organising capacity. As a final preparation, it was necessary that the disposition of his fighting men should receive some attention, because he could not hope to conceal his real purpose from the people whose country he was about to invade. It is true he did not anticipate any serious opposition, because the defeats inflicted upon them by the recent expedition under Tuwhare, Waka Nene, Patuone, and himself had so reduced their strength as to render serious opposition impossible; but, in view of the limited force at his command, and the unlikelihood of increasing it, unnecessary waste had to be guarded against. He therefore divided his warriors into suitable sections, and, appointing a sub-chief to lead each company, he retained the supreme command of affairs in his own hands. The carrying out of these varied preparations had now occupied several months, and when all was ripe for departure he paid a last visit to the surrounding tribes and chiefs – to Kukutai, of Lower Waikato, to Pehi-Tukorehu, of Ngati-Mania-poto, to Te Kanawa, of Waikato, bidding them good-bye, and, as an example in good faith, he kept his word to Te Wherowhero, saying to that chief: "Farewell! remain on our land at Kawhia; I am going to take Kapiti for myself: do not follow me." At Mungatautari a final effort was made to induce the Ngati-Raukawa to join him; but, although there were evidences of weakening resistance, he had still to wait several months before their objections were so far overcome as to permit him any measure of hope that they would yet yield and follow him. The tour of leave-taking at an end, Te Rauparaha returned to his pa at Te Arawi, and there summoned his people to prepare for the fateful march. When all was ready, the blazing flaxstick was put to the walls of the great carved house which had adorned the pa, and as the smoke of its destruction arose, the whole tribe of fifteen hundred souls passed through the gate which they were never again to enter.

In the case of unlettered peoples there is necessarily some difficulty in determining the precise periods at which important incidents in their history have occurred; and in this instance we have nothing to guide us except the arrangement and comparison of subsequent events. By this mode of reasoning we are led to the conclusion that the migration from Kawhia must have occurred during the latter months of the year 1821. But, whatever obscurity rests upon this point, tradition is clear49 that the circumstances under which the exodus commenced were singularly auspicious. The day broke with a cloudless sky, and, as the sun rose into the blue dome, the landscape for miles was lit by the rosy tints of morn, rendering every peak and valley more beautiful. On the route of march lay the hill of Moeatoa, and to its summit the pilgrims climbed, in order to take a last fond look at their ancient home. As they turned and gazed upon old Kawhia the memories of the past came crowding back upon them, and it is easy to understand their deep manifestations of sorrow at leaving their ancestral domain. The softer sentiments associated with home and country are not the exclusive prerogative of civilised beings. These people, savage and ruthless though they were, thrilled with the same patriotic feeling which prompted the Prophet of Israel to exclaim: "If I forget thee, O Jerusalem! may my right hand forget her cunning." And although their form of expressing it was neither so beautiful nor so poetical, they were, nevertheless, quite as sincere when they cried upon the mountain-side: "Kawhia, remain here! The people of Kawhia are going to Kapiti, to Waipounamu." "The love of a New Zealander for his land is not the love of a child for his toys," says a well-known writer.50 "His title is connected with many and powerful associations in his mind, his affection for the homes of his fathers being connected with their deeds of bravery, with the feats of their boyhood, and the long rest of his ancestors for generations." And there is no reason to suppose that these feelings were less active in the Ngati-Toa at such a moment than they were in other Maori tribes.

The closing scene in the life of the Ngati-Toa at Kawhia has been beautifully described by Thomas Bracken, whose word-picture of the scene on Moeatoa Hill is amongst the finest that came from his poetic pen: —

The first stage of the journey ended with the close of the fourth day, when the pa of Puohoki was reached; and here Te Rauparaha decided to leave his wife Akau51 and a number of the women and children under a suitable guard, while he and the bulk of the people pushed on as far as Waitara. Here they were received by the Ngati-Tama and Ngati-Awa tribes, in whose pas they were quartered for the season; and, except that a spirit of parsimony seemed to pervade their welcome, they had every reason to feel rejoiced at the success which up to this moment had attended their venture.52 After the lapse of a brief period spent in perfecting his arrangements, Te Rauparaha decided to return for his wife and her companions, and on reaching the pa where they were staying he learned to his great joy that Akau had borne him a son. This infant lived to be the well-known missionary chief, Tamihana te Rauparaha. Against the advice of his tribe, Rauparaha had only taken a band of twenty warriors with him, and on the journey back to Waitara his strategic abilities were tested to the full to escape annihilation. Three days after his arrival he left on his return journey, carrying his infant son in a basket on his back. Knowing that he had left Kawhia, a party of the restless Ngati-Mania-poto had crept down the coast in the hope of finding some stragglers of his party whom they might conveniently kill. But instead of meeting, as they had expected, a few irregulars, they came suddenly upon Te Rauparaha himself near the mouth of the Awakino River. To some extent the surprise was mutual, but the stress of the position was all against Te Rauparaha. Supported only by a limited force and hampered by the women and children, he was in serious difficulties, as the enemy might cut off his retreat and then attack him in force. Suddenly a brilliant idea struck him. Before the enemy approached within striking distance he ordered twenty of the most active women to disrobe and don the mats and headgear of fighting men. Then arming each of them with a stone club, he placed them under the charge of Akau, who was a woman of magnificent physique, with instructions to march in the van brandishing their weapons after the manner of veteran warriors. The more helpless women and children were placed in the centre, while he and his fighting men covered the retreat. Misled by the stratagem, the Ngati-Mania-poto were tricked into the belief that the Ngati-Toa force was much stronger than it really was, and instead of attacking they began to retire. Observing this, Te Rauparaha immediately accelerated their panic by charging down upon them, and in the skirmish which followed Tutakara, their chief, was killed by Te Rangi-hounga-riri, Te Rauparaha's eldest son by his child-wife Marore, who was rapidly making a name for himself as an intrepid warrior. But, although the position was somewhat relieved, Te Rauparaha felt that the danger was not yet at an end. He was experienced enough in native tactics to know that the Ngati-Mania-poto would be tempted to return at nightfall and renew the attack in the hope of avenging the death of their chief. He therefore could not consider himself safe until the Mokau River was crossed, and, unfortunately, when he reached its banks the tide was full and the river was in flood. Nothing remained to be done except to wait, but in order still to maintain the deception twelve large fires were kindled, at each of which three women and one warrior were stationed, while the chief and the rest of his followers lay prepared for emergencies. It was also an injunction to the sentinels at the fires to address each other occasionally in the heroic language of the time. "Be strong, O people, to fight on the morrow if the enemy return. Take no thought of life. Consider the valour of your tribe." These stimulating exhortations, which were intended for the enemy's ears as much as for their own, were supplemented by fervid speeches from the women, whose shrill voices were carried out into the night air as a warning to the enemy that they would not lag behind their lords in the coming battle.

Meantime, Te Rauparaha lay waiting for the enemy, who never came. Either having no stomach for another encounter with so redoubtable a warrior, or still not understanding the true position, they wisely declined to provoke a battle, about the result of which they could be by no means sanguine. At midnight the tide turned, and the river fell sufficiently to be fordable.53 Leaving their fires burning, the Ngati-Toa crept silently down to the bank, and, wading across, made their way to the pas of their friends, which they reached amidst general rejoicing. Early next morning the scene of the previous day's battle was revisited and the bodies of the slain enemy recovered to make a feast, at which the sweet revenge harboured against Ngati-Mania-poto was surfeited.

While the Ngati-Toa plans were developing in Taranaki, another misfortune was falling upon the people of the southern districts from the opposite direction. Towards the middle of 1820 a band of six hundred warriors, under Apihai Te Kawau, of Ngati-Whatua, Te Kanawa, and Tu-korehu, of Waikato and Ngati-Mania-poto, and other prominent chiefs, longing for some new excitement, had journeyed down the east coast through Hawke's Bay and the Wairarapa, for no particular purpose except to kill, eat, or make slaves of whoever might fall into their hands. In the course of this pilgrimage of blood they crossed over to the west, and there attacked in succession the Muaupoko, Rangitane, and Ngati-Apa tribes, upon whom they inflicted sore and mortal wounds; and when they retired back to the north they left the conquest of Kapiti a matter of comparative simplicity to Te Rauparaha. But they were soon themselves to feel the sting of defeat. Passing into the Taranaki country on their homeward march, they were set upon by the Ngati-Awa people, who strenuously opposed their further progress at Waitara. This was a strange reversal of all previous policy on the part of Ngati-Awa, who had always been friendly to, and had frequently co-operated with, the Ngati-Mania-poto and Waikato peoples on similar raids. By some authorities this new antagonism has been attributed to the sinister influence of Te Rauparaha, who was still at Ure-nui waiting to harvest his crops. He had not forgotten the anxious moments to which he had been subjected on the banks of the Waitara River, and it would have been more than human on his part had he not sought to balance accounts now that the opportunity offered. "By means of plotting and deceit," says one writer, "he succeeded in rousing Ngati-Awa – or the greater part of them – to take up his quarrel." Whatever the cause of Ngati-Awa's hostility, the effect was a series of determined and well-organised attacks upon the northern taua, which ultimately drove them to seek refuge with a friendly section of the Ngati-Awa in the famous Puke-rangiora pa. Here they were besieged for seven months, fighting repeatedly, and, towards the end of that period, suffering intense privations. Frequent attempts were made to send intelligence of their straits through the enemy's ranks to their friends; but so close and vigilant was the investment that their messengers were invariably captured, and their heads fixed upon poles and exhibited to the besieged in a spirit of exultant derision. One, Rahiora, a young man of the Ngati-Mahanga tribe, did at length succeed in evading detection, and travelling into the Waikato by Kete-marae and Whanganui, thence by Taupo and Waipa, was able to communicate to the great Te Wherowhero the critical plight of his tribesmen. Te Wherowhero immediately made his call to arms, and soon a numerous relief party was on its way to join the force already in the field, which had vainly endeavoured to cut off Te Rauparaha at the Mokau. The junction of these forces was successfully accomplished, and the pride of Waikato's military strength, under two of the greatest chiefs of that time, Te Wherowhero and Te Waharoa, marched southward for the dual purpose of raising the siege of Puke-rangiora and of attacking Te Rauparaha. Though they failed to reach within striking distance of the beleaguered pa, their movement indirectly achieved its object, for the advent of so large a force lightened the pressure of the siege by drawing off a considerable number of the besiegers. Of these Te Rauparaha took command, and to his strategical genius was due the victory which he ultimately achieved on the plain of Motu-nui. This plain stretches along the sea-coast between the Ure-nui and Mimi Rivers. At this point the shore is bounded by perpendicular cliffs, fully one hundred and fifty feet high, along which are dotted several small pas, used as fishing-places in olden times. Away to the eastward of the plain run the wooded hills, on the steep sides of which rise the numerous streams which rush across the plain to the sea. On the southern end of one of the spurs descending from the range was built the strongly fortified Okoki pa, which was made the point of assembly by the Ngati-Awa and Ngati-Toa warriors.

The Waikato taua came on as far as a place called Waitoetoe on the southern bank of the Mimi River, and there commenced to make a camp preparatory to throwing down the gage of battle. To the watchers in the Okoki pa their fires had been visible for several miles; and when it was seen that they had determined to pitch camp, there was a general request that their position should be at once attacked. Personally, Te Rauparaha preferred to take no risks until the portion of his force which was still holding Tu-korehu in check at Puke-rangiora should have come up. He, however, yielded to the importunities of some of his chiefs, and consented to send out a hunuhunu, or reconnoitring party, to test the mettle of the enemy. To meet the possibility of the skirmish developing into a more serious encounter, he took the precaution of concealing a strong reserve force, composed of the older men, in the bed of one of the wooded streams which ran close beneath the pa. Having instructed Rangiwahia, of Ngati-Mutunga, in whose charge he left these supports, he took eighty of the younger men with him, and advanced across the plain by stealthy marches. So secretly was the movement effected, that they were within a stone's-throw of the Waikato camp, and had actually commenced the attack upon some of the Waikato warriors, before their presence was discerned. In the first onset Te Rauparaha's followers were roughly handled, and, in accordance with their preconcerted plan, they began rapidly to fall back, sustaining severe losses the while from the guns of the enemy. Their retirement soon developed into a general retreat, which might have been much more disastrous but for a fatal division of opinion which sprang up amongst the Waikato leaders, as to whether or not the fugitives should be pursued. Te Wherowhero was content to have repulsed them, and advised resuming the interrupted work of building their shelters; but others, not so cautious, urged immediate pursuit, and, these counsels prevailing, the whole Waikato force was soon in full cry after the retreating scouts. The chase was fierce and stern, and many a good Taranaki warrior dropped upon the plain as he sped towards the pa, for the pursuers kept up as hot a fire as their rapid movements rendered possible. Seeing the men falling round him, a chief who was running close to Te Rauparaha repeatedly urged him to turn and attack the pursuers; but the crafty general, knowing that the time was not yet, declined to forestall his prearranged strategy. He held on his way, only urging his men to faster flight, while Te Wherowhero incited his marksmen to single out the Ngati-Awa chiefs for death. Some two miles of the plain had been covered, and the southern warriors were nearing their supports. As the foremost reached the wooded gully, they waited there to recover their breath, and allowed the pursuers to close in upon them. Weary and blown with their long and exciting run, the Waikatos came straggling up, innocent of the trap into which they had fallen. At the psychological moment Te Rauparaha gave the signal, and out dashed his veterans, fresh and eager for the fray, charging down upon the exhausted and astonished Waikatos. Their chiefs who were in the forefront of the chase were the first to go down, and their numbers were perceptibly diminished as they were beaten back by repeated charges across the blood-stained field. Te Wherowhero fought through the reverse with supreme courage, engaging and vanquishing in single combat no less than five of Taranaki's greatest warriors; and to his fine defence and heroic example is attributed the fact that his tribe was not completely annihilated on the field of Motu-nui. On the other hand, it has been whispered that his companion in arms, Te Waharoa, did not bear himself in this fight with his wonted gallantry. Waikato paid a heavy toll that day. They left one hundred and fifty men dead on the field, and the slaughter of chiefs was a conspicuous tribute to their bravery – Te Wherowhero and Te Waharoa being the only leaders of eminence to escape.

For some inexplicable reason, Te Rauparaha did not pursue his victory to the bitter end, as was his wont.54 This forbearance on his part is especially surprising in view of the fact that Te Wherowhero had specifically promised to remain neutral during the progress of the migration. Possibly the consciousness that he would have done the same thing himself induced him to take a lenient view of his old antagonist's want of good faith; for there can be no doubt that the bloody wars which were at this time ravaging the country had completely sapped the old Maori sense of honour. "At the period in question, more perhaps than at any other in the history of the race, moral considerations had but little weight in determining the conduct of either the individual or the tribe. Even the nearest relatives did not hesitate to destroy and devour each other." There was thus nothing unusual about Te Wherowhero's conduct; but his experience of Te Rauparaha on this occasion was such that from that day onward he left him severely alone.

The effect of these successive victories was to enhance enormously the prestige and power of Te Rauparaha. He began to be regarded with reverence by Ngati-Awa and with something akin to worship by Ngati-Toa. As a tangible proof of the gratitude which his hosts felt for the services which he had rendered them, food, which had been grudgingly supplied up to this time, was now given in abundance to his people, and, what was of even greater moment to Te Rauparaha, adherents began freely to flock to his cause. But, although he had beaten off both the Ngati-Mania-poto and Waikato tribes, the position was still unsatisfactory to him from the point of view of numbers, and so he resolved to make one more effort to persuade Ngati-Raukawa to join him. Accordingly he journeyed back to Opepe, a village on the shores of Lake Taupo, where he met young Te Whatanui, a chief destined to become famous in after years as the protector of the Muaupoko people whom Te Rauparaha wished to destroy. Upon the assembled tribe, and upon Te Whatanui in particular, he again impressed the merits of his scheme, pointing out the altered position occupied by the tribes who had managed to become possessed of fire-arms, as compared with those who had only wooden spears and stone meres. He dwelt upon the fact that ships were beginning to frequent Kapiti, and that there they could obtain guns, as Nga-Puhi had done at the Bay of Islands. He also reiterated all that he had formerly told them about the fertility of the soil and the ease with which the country might be conquered: but in vain. Te Whatanui volunteered no sign of approval. He gave many presents to Te Rauparaha, as marks of respect from one warrior to another. He also made him a long oration, skilfully avoiding the all-important topic upon which Te Rauparaha had travelled so far to consult him; nor did the majority of his people conceal their objection to coming under Te Rauparaha's immediate command, to the exclusion of their own chiefs. Angered at this perversity, Te Rauparaha shook the dust of Opepe from off his feet and proceeded to Rotorua, and as far as Tauranga, where he sought the aid of the great Te Waru. But he met with no success, for Te Waru had schemes of his own which claimed his personal attention. While resting with the Tu-hou-rangi branch of the Arawa tribe on his return to Rotorua from Tauranga, Te Rauparaha (according to accounts) perpetrated an outrage upon Nga-Puhi which was destined to inspire one of the most disastrous wars and one of the most daring assaults known in Maori history. His motive for "sowing the seeds of evil counsel" is not clear. By some it is alleged a jealous envy of Nga-Puhi's success in procuring arms, while others find it in the consuming desire for revenge for the death of a young relative killed a few weeks before at the fall of the Te Totara pa at the Thames. Whatever the motive, before leaving he took occasion to recite a karakia, or song, informing the Tu-hou-rangi that there was a small band of Nga-Puhi travelling about in their vicinity, and broadly insinuating that "death and darkness were very good things." This hint, however enigmatical, was taken and acted upon. When Te Pae-o-te-rangi, Hongi's nephew, and a company of his Nga-Puhi followers arrived at the Motu-tawa pa, from which Te Rauparaha had just departed, they were treacherously set upon and killed by the Tu-hou-rangi people. It was to avenge the death of Te Pae-o-te-rangi that Hongi performed the Herculean task of dragging his canoes from Waihi, near Maketu, to Lake Rotorua, and on the island of Mokoia slaughtered the unfortunate Ngati-Whakaue (Arawas), who had been entirely innocent of the original crime.

Before quitting Rotorua, however, Te Rauparaha had the good fortune to fall in with the Nga-Puhi chief Pomare,55 who handed over to him a few of the men who had accompanied him to the Lake district on a mission of bloodshed. With this small reinforcement Te Rauparaha returned to Taranaki and prepared to resume his journey southward, having in the meantime enlisted the services of some four hundred Ngati-Awas under one of the most famous men of his time, Rere-ta-whangawhanga, father of Wi Kingi Rangitake.56 The force at Te Rauparaha's command now numbered about eight hundred fighting men and their families. With these he resumed his march in the autumn of 1822, when the kumara had been gathered in, and advanced without interruption or mishap until he reached Patea. Here a slight skirmish took place, and six of the invaders were killed, their deaths being immediately avenged by the slaughter of some Waitotara people. From them a large canoe was captured, and was employed in the transportation of some of the women and children by sea, thus saving them the labour and fatigue involved in the land journey. Te Rauparaha himself also travelled by water with the women, but, with the exception of those required to propel the canoes, the men continued on foot along the coast, capturing and killing an occasional straggler who had lingered too long in the vicinity of the warpath.

At the mouth of the Rangitikei River the canoe was drawn up on the beach, and the whole party halted for several days. Hearing of their arrival, the friends of Pikinga came down to the camp to welcome her, but the remainder of the Ngati-Apa tribe fled to the hills and concealed themselves amongst the mountain fastnesses. It would therefore appear that the friendship which they afterwards alleged to have existed between Te Rauparaha and themselves was not of a very substantial character.57 Nor did the marriage of their chieftainess with Te Rangihaeata avail them much; for while the bulk of his people rested by the river, odd bands of their fighting men were continually scouring the country in search of some plump Ngati-Apa who was needed to keep the ovens fully employed. While the weather continued fine, Te Rauparaha was anxious to lose no more time than was absolutely necessary. So soon, therefore, as his people had been refreshed by the rest, he pushed on again, making his next stage the mouth of the Manawatu River, where he harassed the Rangitane people by the inroads of armed parties on their settlements. But comparatively few captures were made, as the pas were deserted immediately the inhabitants scented the danger.

The migration which Te Rauparaha was thus conducting had for its objective a sweet and fertile spot on the banks of the Ohau stream; and when the remaining portion of the coast had been traversed without opposition, and the tribe had reached its journey's end in safety, preparations were at once made to establish them permanently on the land. A pa was built large enough to accommodate the whole party, and ground was cleared for cultivations, in which the potato was planted for the first time on this coast. Their nearest neighbours were the Ngati-Apa, who held possession of the island of Kapiti, and the Muaupoko tribe, who were settled round the shores of Lakes Horowhenua and Papaitonga. In what light the former regarded the aggression upon their borders it is difficult to say; but the latter were evidently very ill at ease, for they had a heavy presentiment of what the ultimate result would be. But how to avert the danger was no simple problem, as they had learned enough in the stern school of experience to recognise that victory in open battle was not to be hoped for. Strategy was therefore determined upon. Learning from two Whanganui chiefs, who were then on a visit to Horowhenua, that Te Rauparaha's vulnerable point at this period was his desire to obtain canoes, they resolved to tempt him with the bait to which he was most likely to fall a victim. The ease with which the chief fell into the trap was due to his excessive ambition and the further large schemes towards which his aspirations soared.

He had heard strange stories of a treasure-trove of greenstone which the Ngai-Tahu people had stored in their pas over on the Middle Island; and as he stood on the beach at Ohau and looked across the Strait towards the hills of Waipounamu, he dreamed of this wealth and how he could possess himself of it. Without a fleet of canoes to convey his warriors over the intervening sea, the project of invasion was visionary; but even with the frailest vessels he might make it a reality, and at one bold stroke add to his dominions, gratify his avarice, and satiate his hate by waging war upon the southern tribes.

Of canoes the Muaupoko had many. Residing as they did upon the shores of two lakes, these vessels were almost as essential to them as gondolas to the Venetians; and when they learned of Te Rauparaha's eagerness to obtain what they possessed, a device was cautiously planned by which they might rid themselves of a neighbour whose coming they felt boded them no good. Into this conspiracy of murder the Rangitane people of Manawatu were admitted; and for thus allowing themselves to be made the cat's-paw of others they paid a bitter penalty, for they succeeded in nothing except in arousing the eternal hatred of the great chief, who seemed invulnerable alike to their cunning and their force. The authors of the scheme were Turoa and Paetahi, both of the Ngati-Apa tribe; and the willing instrument in their hands was Toheriri, a leader of the Muaupoko, whose part was, shortly after the arrival of the Ngati-Toa at Ohau, to send an invitation to Te Rauparaha and a number of his followers to pay a friendly visit to his pa at Papaitonga. As already indicated, the inducement held out to Ngati-Toa was the promise of a gift of canoes, and, under the circumstances, a more artful pretence could not have been conceived. "Canoes were at this time his great desire, for by them only could he cross over to the island of Waipounamu," is the explanation of the position given by Tamihana Te Rauparaha; and, if the Muaupoko could gratify that desire, Te Rauparaha was not the man to refrain from making a convenience of his enemies, as well as of his friends. Accordingly he accepted the invitation, notwithstanding the earnest remonstrances of his nephew and lieutenant, Te Rangihaeata, who declared his irresistible conviction that murder, rather than hospitality, was the secret of the Muaupoko invitation.

Rauparaha was in no mood to speculate about omens, good or evil. Canoes he wanted, and canoes he would have, even if the gods or the devils were against him. His unusual recklessness even carried him so far that he selected only a few warriors to accompany him, and with these he arrived, just at the fall of evening, at Papaitonga. The party was, of course, received with the most profuse expressions of friendship. Toheriri and his fellow-chief Waraki conducted their visitors in state to view the canoes which were to be handed over in the morning; but, on returning to the pa, they were careful to conduct Te Rauparaha to a house at one end of the settlement, while his followers were provided for at the opposite end. This fact appears to have aroused no suspicion in the Ngati-Toa mind; for at night all slept soundly, until the shouts of the combined Rangitane and Muaupoko war parties were heard in the early morning as they rushed upon the slumbering pa.

The assailants appear to have been too precipitate in their onset. Instead of first surrounding the whare in which Te Rauparaha lay, they commenced the massacre of his followers at the other end; and Toheriri, who was lightly sleeping in the same compartment as Te Rauparaha, was compelled to go out and direct them to the particular hut in which their common foe was lying. This delay was fatal to their design, but fortunate for Te Rauparaha. In the absence of his host, he stayed not to take his leave, but bursting through the raupo wall which formed the end of the whare, he slipped away between the houses; and when the tardy Rangitane rushed up to the hut, their prey had flown, and nothing remained but to wreak their vengeance upon the less distinguished victims, whom they slaughtered without mercy. Included amongst these victims of treacherous onslaught were several of Te Rauparaha's wives and children. Of the latter, however, two were spared, Te Uira and Hononga, the former of whom was a daughter of his child-wife Marore. The reason for this partial clemency is not clear; apparently vengeance was satisfied by sending them prisoners to the Wairarapa, where they afterwards became wives of men of renown in the district.58

Amidst the chaos of treachery which surrounds this incident, it is pleasant to record an act of chivalry of an heroic type. Amongst those who accompanied Te Rauparaha on this eventful visit was his son, Rangi-hounga-riri, who, it will be remembered, had distinguished himself by slaying Tutakara, the chief of the Ngati-Mania-poto, when that tribe attacked Ngati-Toa at the Awakino River. He, being strong of body and lithe of limb, had managed to break through the attacking cordon, and, had he chosen, might have made his escape. But, as he hurried away, his ear caught the sound of a girl's piteous crying for help. He recognised the voice as that of his sister, Uira. Heedless of consequences he rushed back to the pa, and, forcing his way to the side of the girl, placed his protecting arm around her, and fought her assailants until overpowered by superior numbers. By his death, Te Rauparaha lost one of his most intrepid lieutenants, and the Ngati-Toa tribe one of its most promising leaders. As chivalrous as he was brave, he was the type of chief whose nobility lifted the ancient Maori above the level of the mere savage, and illustrated the manly qualities which so impressed those early colonists who took the trouble to understand the people amongst whom they had come. The qualities are still there, and justify the hope that, by sound laws, and sanitary and educational reforms, such as are now being effected, it may yet be possible to stay the process of degeneration which set in as the result of the first contact of the Maori with the European.

Te Rauparaha, having slipped from the snare of his enemies, plunged into the long grass which surrounded the pa, and, in the semi-darkness, succeeded in eluding his pursuers, eventually reaching his settlement at Ohau, weary, angry, and almost naked. Bitterly disappointed at the result of his mission, and deeply enraged at the treatment he had received, he in his wrath cursed the Rangitane and Muaupoko peoples, and, calling his tribe around him, he charged his followers to make it the one special mission of their lives "to kill them from the dawn of day till the evening." This doctrine of extermination was not preached to unwilling ears; and from that day the fixed policy of the Ngati-Toa tribe was to sweep the Muaupoko and Rangitane from their ancestral lands. In the reprisals which followed as the result of Rauparaha's vow of eternal vengeance, the former tribe seems to have suffered most; and there is little room for doubt that they would have been ultimately uprooted and effaced from amongst the tribes of New Zealand, but for the kindly offices of that dark-skinned humanitarian, Te Whatanui, who, years afterwards, took them under his protecting mantle, and declared, in the now historic phrase, that "nothing would reach them but the rain from heaven."

The Rangitane people were more fortunately situated, having the impassable forests of the Manawatu and its inaccessible mountain fastnesses to protect them. But they by no means escaped the bitterness of persecution, as bands of Ngati-Toa were constantly roaming their country in search of some one to kill and devour. The constant absence of these parties convinced Rauparaha that the small band of men whom he had with him was by no means sufficient for the magnitude of the task which his ambitious mind had conceived, and so he determined upon doing two things. The first was to strengthen his position by conquering the island of Kapiti, which was still in the possession of a section of the Ngati-Apa people; the second, once again to despatch ambassadors to the north, to persuade some of his former allies to join him in mastering a district which promised a rich supply of guns and ammunition. As a preliminary to the former scheme, he extended his frontier as far as Otaki, from which point he could the better watch the movements of the islanders and sweep down upon them at a favourable moment. But the intervals in which there was lack of vigilance were few and far between, and consequently the first series of attacks failed signally. The defenders were strongly posted and incessantly watchful; so Rauparaha, seeing that the frontal attack, however well delivered, would not avail, decided upon a stratagem which, judged by its success, must have been admirably planned.

His device was to lull the defenders of the island into a false sense of security by apparently withdrawing all his forces from Otaki for the purpose of some larger movement in the north, at the same time leaving a small band of well-tried men, whose duty it was to make a dash for the island and seize it before its inhabitants had recovered from their surprise. He accordingly marshalled his forces one morning, and, with an amount of ostentatious display which was calculated to attract the attention of the Ngati-Apa spies, he marched away to the Manawatu at the head of his warriors. The Ngati-Apa saw this movement, but did not understand it. Believing that the absence of Te Rauparaha meant a period of respite, they withdrew their sentries and gave themselves up to rejoicing. This was precisely what the Ngati-Toa chief had hoped for and calculated upon. He also had the satisfaction of knowing that the most critical part of his scheme was in safe hands. His uncle, Te Pehi Kupe, who was left in charge of the attacking party, was a tried and grim veteran, and, true to the trust imposed upon him, he came out of his concealment just before dawn on the morning after Te Rauparaha had left. Silently the intrepid little band launched their canoes, and as silently they paddled across the intervening water, reaching the island at the break of day. They found the inhabitants still sleeping, and unconscious of any danger until the shouts of their assailants and the cries of the wounded warned them that some desperate work was on hand. Not many of them stayed to fight, and those who were not killed in the first onslaught scrambled into their canoes and made for the mainland, thus ingloriously leaving the last independent stronghold of the Ngati-Apa in the hands of the invaders.

It has been charged to the discredit of Te Rauparaha, that, in planning this attack upon Kapiti, he cherished a guilty hope that Te Pehi might fall in the assault, and by his death rid him of a powerful rival in the councils of the tribe. But, while his critics have never been slow to attribute to him the grossest treachery towards his enemies and infidelity to his friends, there is absolutely no evidence that on this occasion he meditated a crime, such as sacred history imputes to the King of Israel when he placed Uriah the Hittite in the forefront of the battle. Te Pehi was a great chief. He was Te Rauparaha's senior in years and his superior in birth. His prowess in battle was known far and wide, and the circumstances under which he afterwards emulated the example of Hongi by visiting England, and like him, subsequently procuring for his tribe, guns and ammunition at Sydney, stamp him as a man of strong initiative and individuality. But he did not possess the political genius with which his nephew was endowed; he lacked the organising power, the tact, and the gift of inspiring others with his own enthusiasm. While Te Pehi might lead a charge with brilliancy, Te Rauparaha could often gain more by diplomacy than he by force of arms; and these statesmanlike qualities gave the younger chief an influence with the tribe which Te Pehi did not and never could possess. Indeed, the tragedy associated with his death at Kaiapoi, in 1828, is sufficient to convince us that he was strangely lacking in conciliation and tact. So far as can be learned, there is nothing to lead us to suppose that Te Pehi ever questioned his nephew's superiority in the diplomatic department of his tribal office; on the contrary, he seems to have cheerfully accepted a secondary position, and loyally aided Te Rauparaha in all his projects. Under these circumstances, it is somewhat difficult to imagine what Te Rauparaha was to gain by sacrificing so brave an ally. Moreover, the intense grief which he manifested when Te Pehi was killed at Kaiapoi, and the signal vengeance which he took upon the Ngai-Tahu tribe for their act of treachery, render the suspicion of foul play on his part utterly improbable. In view of these considerations he may fairly be exonerated from any criminal intent towards Te Pehi. It is clear that the seizure of Kapiti was but an essential move in his policy of conquest, and that the manner of its seizure was but a cleverly designed piece of strategy, certainly not unattended by risk, but affording very reasonable chances of success.

The capture of this natural fortress did not result in its immediate occupation, for Te Rauparaha still had abundance of work to do on the mainland before he could regard the power of the enemy as broken and the conquest of his new home complete. In pursuance of his policy of extermination, he had been interspersing his larger movements with repeated raids upon Rangitane and Muaupoko, in which he invariably made them feel the sting of his revenge. Finding that these attacks were becoming more frequent and more vigorous, the chiefs of the latter tribe conceived a plan by which they hoped to elude the persistency of their implacable pursuers. Hitherto their pas had been built on the shores of the picturesque lakes, around which they had lived since their advent into the district, centuries before. But they now decided to abandon these strongholds, which were exposed to every raid of the enemy, and build their dwellings in the centre of Lakes Horowhenua and Papaitonga. At the cost of an amazing amount of industry and toil, they constructed artificial islands upon the beds of these lakes at their deepest parts, and upon these mounds they built a miniature Maori Venice. The construction of these islands was most ingenious, and desperate indeed must have been the straits to which Muaupoko were driven before they imposed upon themselves so laborious a task.

Proceeding to the bush, their first operation was to cut down a number of saplings, which were pointed and then driven into the soft mud, closely enclosing in rectangular form sufficient space on which to place the foundations of the houses. Smaller stakes were then driven into the centre of the enclosure, upon which were spitted those compact masses of vegetation known as "Maori-heads." A layer of these gave the builders a solid basis upon which to work, and huge stones, earth, and gravel were brought in the canoes from the shore, and poured into the enclosures until the pile of débris rose some height above the level of the water. Six such islands were formed on Lake Horowhenua and two on Papaitonga, and on these whares were erected, which were gradually extended by the addition of platforms reaching a considerable distance beyond the islands. Round each of these platforms ran a stout palisade, which served the dual purpose of preventing the very young children from falling into the water and offering a formidable barrier to the assaults of the enemy. As the only means of communication with these islands was by canoe, and as it was well known to the Muaupoko people that Te Rauparaha had few such vessels, they felt comparatively secure from attack so soon as they had transferred themselves to their new retreat.

But they little reckoned on the kind of man with whom they had to deal, when they imagined that a placid sheet of water could interpose between Te Rauparaha and his enemies. Canoes he had not, but strong swimmers he had; and it is a fine tribute to their daring that, on a dark and gloomy night, a small band of these undertook to swim off to one of the Horowhenua pas and attack its sleeping inhabitants. With their weapons lashed to their wrists, they silently entered the water, and by swift side strokes reached the walls of Waipata, the pa which they had chosen for their attempt, and were swarming over the palisades before a note of warning could be sounded. Taken at such a disadvantage, it was not to be expected that the Muaupoko resistance would be effective, for they were both stunned by surprise and paralysed by fear at the awful suddenness of the attack. Flight was their first thought, and such as were not slain in their sleep or caught in their attempt to escape, plunged into the lake and made for the nearest shelter. In this endeavour to escape death all were not successful, and it is estimated that, between the killed and drowned, the attack upon Waipata cost the Muaupoko several hundred lives, besides adding to their misfortune by shattering utterly their belief in the inaccessibility of their island pas. The adjoining pas upon the lake, warned of the impending danger by the tumult at Waipata, at once prepared for a stubborn defence; but the attacking party, feeling themselves unequal to the task of a second assault, discreetly withdrew to the mainland before it was yet daylight, and at once made preparations for another attack upon a more extensive scale. But both prudence and necessity dictated the wisdom of delay; it was wiser to wait until Muaupoko had relapsed into their former state of confidence, and, moreover, the plan upon which it was proposed to make the attack required time for its development.

Recognising the strength of the Waikiekie pa, against which the energies of his tribe were next to be directed, Te Rauparaha saw that success was not to be expected unless he could attack it in force. This involved the transportation of a large body of men over the waters of the lake, which could only be effected by means of canoes. These he did not possess in numbers, and, even if he had, he must still devise means of conveying them to the lake, which was several miles from the coast. His ingenious mind, however, soon discovered an escape from these perplexities, and he at once decided upon a plan, which was not without precedent in European warfare or imitation in subsequent Maori history. His scheme involved the haulage of his canoes over the belt of land which separated the lake from the sea, and the enterprise seems to have been as cleverly executed as it was daringly designed. Out of the lake runs an insignificant stream, which slowly meanders over shallows and between narrow banks down to the ocean; and to the mouth of this creek were brought such canoes as had fallen into Te Rauparaha's hands at the taking of Kapiti, and a larger one which had been procured from his friends at Whanganui-a-Tara.59 Where the water was deep enough, or the reaches straight enough, the canoes were floated up the bed of the stream; but as this was possible only at rare intervals, the greater part of the distance was covered by dragging the vessels over the grassy flats and ferny undulations. Such a task would be laborious enough under any circumstances; but on this occasion it was rendered even more wearisome by the necessity for conducting it in absolute silence. As the success of the expedition depended mainly upon the completeness of the surprise, it was essential that no note of warning should be given, and therefore it was impossible to encourage the workers to greater exertions by song or speech; but so heartily did they bend themselves to their monotonous task, that the three miles of toilsome road were traversed before the break of day.

The outflow of the lake was hidden by a clump of trees which grew close to the water's edge, and behind this natural screen the canoes were concealed, and the men lay down to rest until the moment came to strike. At the first appearance of dawn, the canoes were shot into the lake, and before the inhabitants of Waikiekie had shaken slumber from their eyes, the shaft was on its way that would send many of them to their last long sleep. The pa was attacked on every side, and with a vigour which left little chance of escape. Such resistance as was possible in such a situation was offered by the drowsy defenders. But the mortal fear with which they had come to regard the Ngati-Toa, together with the fury of the onslaught and the completeness of the surprise, spread panic amongst them, and the resistance was soon left to a desperate few. Their valiant efforts brought them nothing but the glory which attends the death of the brave. They were quickly borne down before the onrush of the assailants, whose shouts of triumph, joined with the terrified cries of the fugitives, filled the morning air. Large numbers, who looked to discretion rather than valour, plunged into the lake, and by swimming, diving, and dodging, a few managed to elude both capture and death. But many were slain as they swam, and, while their bodies sank to the bottom, their blood mingled with the waters of the lake, until it lay crimson beneath the rising sun. Warriors and women, old men and children, to the number of two hundred, we are told, perished on that fateful morning, which saw the Muaupoko tribe driven from Horowhenua, and the epoch of their greatness brought to a close. A mere remnant of the tribe escaped, and made their way through the forests and mountain fastnesses towards the south, where, within the space of another year, they were again pursued, hunted, and slaughtered, with all the old relentless hatred of their destroyer.