PAGES FROM THE PAST.

Taranaki Daily News, 7 January 1922, Page 9

PAGES FROM THE PAST.

EARLY MAORI LIFt. JVHAT THE MISSIONARIES SAW. HORRORS AND ATROCITIES. (Dy “Juvenis.”) People who see the Maoris to-day are apt to suppose they were over thus —a people, on the whole, peaceably inclined and apparently generous, and not altogether relentless in their quarrels—and, perhaps imagine the missionary’s task was not>o difficult or trying; very unconscious or forgetful of the great revolution which, slowly but surely, has so changed the Maori, once so cruel and relentless, fiendish in his ferocity and wanton in his cru'elty. In those days it required no very great stretch of imagination to fancy the possibility of one’s flesh creeping off one’s bones, when one saw the uncertain tenure on which the Aborigines held possession of their own. Shaking off this mortal coil was as facile as taking off one’s coat, and as litlte thought of, unless, perhaps, relations required a change of compliments. This is shown by the following, which is taken from a letter written in the early part of last century, by the late Rev. W. G. Puckey, of the Church Mission, Kaitaia. Shortly after my arrival in this country my attention was drawn to the left-hand-side of Mr. Hanson’s door, which I found chipped all over. This was done to. obliterate the blood-marks of a poor woman whom her master murdered at the washtub because she refused to become his wife. This I believe was the first murder which came directly under my notice. Mr. Taylor has alreday, in his work on New Zealand, given an account of the wholesale murder at Hongi’s Point, at the Kerikeri; that account was furnished by me. One poor man was dragged into the; water and drowned. His legs weie then’ drawn up and tied to a bush, and the body left to rot away, bit by bit. Three unfortunates were shot down a mile or so from the Kerikeri Mission Station, their bodies anchored off in the middle of the river (to the great an- . noyance of the passers-by) till they rotted away. Two other men—one, I believe, a sick one—l saw pulled into the water by Hare Hongi (Hongi Hika’s eldest son, killed at Kaipara) and another native, their feet tied to the sides of the canoe. The bodies then, trailing the water, were paddled off to the other side of the river. I witnessed their death-struggles.. The details are too horrible to relate. Hare Hongi another day fired a pocket pistol loaded with small shot into the back of- a poor slave. I once purchased a slave to help me with my canoe when I went fishing. Two days later I missed him. I found a headless body. Heart-sick and anxious, I continued my search, till I found a head 1 knew to be his, from his hair, which I had cropped. Details too dreadful to write. HONGI’S ATROCITIES. When Hongi arrived from one of his fighting expeditions from the South, he brought a poor lad, who, being lame, not travel from the Bay to Hokianga. His master hereupon, to save further trouble, gave him a knock on the head with his club, and left him to die on the road. Here some children found him, and, with hereditary cruelty, they tied his hands and feet on either side of the path, picked out his eyes, then stuffed his mouth with filth. When told of it I went and untied him, and he was unable to rise. I stayed by/nim

util near evening, when he died. I buried him, while the native children stood round and derided him. Other cruelties would have been practised upon him but for my presence. Another time a little boy, about ten yearn of age—a slave—stole some sacred food. Some children told me the master of the boy would certainly drown him. Utterly despairing of preventing this I narrowly watched the slave when the deed was likely to be perpetrated. I had not to wait long. I saw bj r the assembling of many children that what I feared was being done. He was thrown into water about three feet deep, and was still struggling. I jumped in and drew him to the shore. A large stone was tied round his neck. I gathered a few sticks and prevailed upon a lad to get me a little fire. I warmed him and he seemed recovering, but could not rise. I implored some of the bystanders to go and get Messrs. Kemp and Clarke to help me to take the boy to the mission station, but could not get one to move. I thought, as the evening was closing in, and the poor boy would certainly die for want of clothes, that I might perhaps get assistance, and save his life; but I was mistaken. I ran as fast as I could, and was not many minutes away. He was shot dead during my absence by his master, who had been all the time watching my movements, with a loaded pistol in his hand, ready to shoot the lad if I attempted to get him away. Shortly after this last event the chief Rewi’s son died. His relatives and friends consulted together, and came to the conclusion that a slave must attend him at the reinga, or place of spirits. Orders were then given to “cut down that sow thistle,” meaning a slave woman about twenty-six years old, who was standing by, busy lighting the native oven. When this was done a man gave her a blow on the head, which stunned her. They then instantly began cutting her bowels open with a shell. AU this I saw done. She was cooked in the vesy oven she had lighted. It was an old custom of the New Zealanders, when they returned from war, to kill a few of the slaves they had taken and cook them a few miles from home, that their wives and families might partake of the trophies of war. When a great capture of slaves was made, the custom was-to run a spear through one foot to prevent escape. In other capes holes were made through the palm of the hand or ear, through 'which a rope was drawn, connecting eight, or ten or more slaves together, so that, they might be all under the eye of the keeper. MAORI STRATEGY. In illustration of Maori strategy in war, I might, cite the following, the scene of which lies in our neighborhood:—A little beyond Ahipara (near Kaitaia), a branch of the hills that line the western coast of New Zealand terminates in a somewhat remarkable spur, stretching to the sea, with steep ra-\«ines on either side. A deep cutting on the summit of Ihe ridge formed a stronghold, and rendered the spot impregnab._y This was held by a tribe of warriors for years against a powerful enemy, who vainl.v strove to dislodge them. At length the siege was raised; the assaulting party disappeared, where the besieged could not tell, and seemed, moreover, not much to care, so strong was their confidence in their chosen seat. The departure of the enemy drew off much of the war restraint.

Meanwhile years passed, and a stranger tribe ensconced itself at a small port on the western coast, known as Wnangape. The chief characteristic of this tribe appeared in their somewhat singular passion for rearing dogs. Each member vied with the other in possession of dogs; dogs outnumbered their ttiast-'rs I# and twenties. Suddenly,

however, this flagged. The masters seemed embittered against their old pets, and the settlement so resonant with the barking of these Animals, was now quiet, and almost oppressively still. The dogs were all killed, and the skins cured, and the tribe set off for the North, carrying their dogskins with them. They were no strangers to the spot they reached—the stronghold I have described —and the tribe, the former assailants. Stealthily they came; no suspicions roused the once again besieged. Secretly and diligently the besiegers wrought, in a covert spot, their dogskins into a wonderful mass. The fabric completed, large quantities of fish were caught and attached to different parts of this strange dogskin tent, as it seemed. “A WHALE!” One starry, yet dark, night there arose a stir among the tribe, and they .moved on for the pa. Silently they raised the dark dome, covered with strung fish, on the beach underlying the stronghold. Within It crept, a chosen party of fighting men, and another lot. stole stealthily up the ravines, and crouched under cover within rushing distance of the pa. Calmly the night wore on. With the faint glimmer of approaching day'the young men of the pa looked out of their whares. “What attracts that cloud of sea-birds?” say they. “What dark mass lies stretched on the sand yonder?’’ “A whale! a whale!” they shout, and youths and hale men rush along down the

| steep ridges to the prey beneath; none bt I decrepit age and children and women, bui : lighting the hangis (native ovens) for tk | anticipated feast. Now they reach tk I beach. Only a few moments of time, anc death, in many forms, springs yelling from the whale; the monster disgorges its dark band of enemies.

The victuns cast a back look on tbeil home. Oh, for their arms! They stand ■unarmed; their homes are all ablaze; and down on them draws a cloud of destruction. Around .them surges a wave of despair! What is bravery'now? Without an effort without a sound, young men and halt men, and old grey-headed warriors bow down t otheir death. The end is complete: the , design of years is accomplished; tht coveted stronghold knows new masters, and, from its beetling heights and wild ravines the wily children of the stranded whale look grimly down on the scene of their strategy and triumph.