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Doubts have been raised about the veracity of some of Reischek's recollections. See Michael King's biography of Reischek: 'The Collector' (Auckland: Hodder and Stoughton, 1981). For a partial defence of Reischek, see Erich Kolig, 'Andreas Reischek and the Maori: Villainy or the Nineteenth-Century Scientific Ethos?' Pacific Studies 10, no. 1 (1986): 55–78, and Oliver J. Harrison, '"The Paradise of the Southern Hemisphere": The Perception of New Zealand and the Maori in Written Accounts of German-speaking Explorers and Travellers 1839-1889' (Ph.D. Thesis, University of Auckland, 2006), 221–91.
Many of the Maori names and geographic locations in this book are mispelled, as are, on occasion, English names. The English translator, H. E. L. Priday, made no attempt to correct these errors. Since this electronic edition is a documentary reproduction of Priday's translation, these mistakes remain in the on-line version.
A Facsimile Edition
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Queen Street, Auckland, New Zealand
To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell, To slowly trace the forest's shady scene, Where things that own not man's dominion dwell, And mortal foot hath ne'er or rarely been; To climb the trackless mountain all unseen, With the wild flock that never needs a fold; Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to lean; This is not solitude; 'tis but to hold Converse with Nature's charms, and view her stores unroll'd.
(Canto II.)Childe Harold
Joy of discovery is writ large over the work of the simple, sympathetic foreigner who is the author of this book.
Fifty or so years ago he was admitted without question to the ranks of bearded Victorian pioneers to whom the Dominion of New Zealand owes so much.
To-day, however, he is forgotten.
It is the object of this book to save his work from forgetfulness, to place his among the gallery of portraits of the men of a bygone age, on whom the younger generations can look back.
Perhaps, also, he will help to remind them how good, how strenuous life was 'in the good old days,' when their Dominion was still half-savage, still unsettled, after the toughest of colonial wars, and before the fire and axe of succeeding generations of peaceful settlers had robbed her of so much of her incomparable possession, the native bush.
A remnant of that age may even be alive to-day, to recognise the picture given here of vanished times, when Ruapehu and Mount Cook were still unclimbed, when there was a tattooed Maori king, and the cry of the kiwi was still in the land.
The war of 1866 caught him in its toils, and he saw service on the Tyrolese front, after which he travelled in Italy and elsewhere, seizing what opportunities came his way to extend his knowledge. In 1875 he married, and settled in Vienna as a taxidermist and seller of educational necessities.
The longing of his youth was soon to be fulfilled. Novara, got to know of Reischek's abilities. One day he asked him if he would like to go out to New Zealand to arrange the newly built museum at Christchurch.
The stipulated length of his engagement was two
Reischek studied English during the voyage out, and our language soon became second nature to him, so that a large part of his records are written in English, and even for a long time after his return to Europe, his speech was thickly larded with anglicisms.
In New Zealand he arranged the museums of Christchurch, Auckland, and Wanganui — then a little town of a few thousand inhabitants — besides a large number of private collections. But the work he really loved lay far from towns, in the mountain and the bush; and in the twelve eventful years he made himself thoroughly acquainted with the country, the natives, and the odd flora and fauna of the Islands. He soon picked up the Maori language, a knowledge of which was to be of great service to him.
In the course of eight lengthy expeditions with his faithful dog Cæsar, he wandered through New Zealand from top to bottom, and also visited the adjacent islands.
English and Maori alike esteemed Reischek as a man and a pioneer of the true breed, and he spoke lovingly of the Colony to the very day of his death. His gift for honest friendship was recognised when he was elected member of one of New Zealand's first
England was eager to buy his collection, but he preferred to give it to his native country where, until a year or two ago, his work was practically neglected. A Reischek Exhibition, held in Vienna in 1926, and the publication of the German edition of his diary, have already done much to remedy this neglect.
Few men have loved New Zealand better than this simple-hearted foreigner, the record of whose intrepid and untiring journeyings enriches our knowledge of that vanished age to which New Zealanders will ever look back with a mingling of pride and regret.
The farewell banquet which my friends had arranged in my honour began in the afternoon of February 6, 1877, and they did their best with song, music, and speechifying to cheer my last hours at home.
I left Vienna next morning, saying a fond goodbye to my wife. The country was in the depths of winter. When I caught sight of the dark sea before me, I was seized with the spirit of adventure. I was three days in Trieste before we sailed, and was travelling second-class as far as Suez on the Castor, a Lloyd steamer of 3000 tons.
After passing the lighthouse of Brindisi we struck the worst storm which — so our officers said — had been experienced in the Mediterranean for twenty years. I got such a bad attack of sea-sickness that I spat blood; and at Suez, where I left the Castor, which was going on to Bombay, the doctor advised me to give up the voyage if I started vomiting blood again.
After a day in the town I went on board the screw-steamer Nepaul, which was taking me to Ceylon. I nearly missed the ship through dining with an acquaintance, and had to hurry off on the back of a mule, followed by a Bedouin boy, who every now and then tickled the animal under the loins with his stick as he ran panting beside.
Our officers were English, with a crew of Singalese, Chinese, mulattoes, and niggers. The boat was overcrowded and the heat was unbearable, so that we could neither eat nor sleep. I began to learn English. In the evening I would sit in a corner of the deck watching the marvellous colours of the sunset and playing on my mouth-organ, till one evening somebody invited me to play in the saloon. I played for an hour, until finally a gentleman, who evidently thought I was to be pitied on account of my homely clothes, made a collection for me. This I divided among the sailors.
The niggers on board entertained us one evening to a dance. They shook their heads and feet and struck their hands on their thighs, wailing a mournful ditty, and sometimes banged their heads together, until finally they were exhausted.
At Ceylon I left the ship, and had three days ashore before boarding the Bungalore, which was to take me to Australia.
The Bungalore was not fitted up in the comfortable fashion of a Lloyd or a British East India liner. Rats infested the fore-deck; when we were eating they would come and sit around, watching us curiously. Often at night they would play hide-and-seek over our bodies, and in the morning clothing and shoes would be gnawed. It was excessively hot, but the red ants seemed to thrive on it.
By March 14, half the people on board were in quarantine. An epidemic of small-pox had broken out. The patients lay on the poop, while the rest of the passengers were penned together in a very limited
One evening, when passing the Kokos or Keeling Islands, we ran into a thunderstorm. It was terribly sultry, and in the motionless air we could hear nothing but the soft stir of the water in the wake of the boat. Suddenly a bright flash lit up the ship, followed by peal upon peal of thunder. Most of the passengers crouched anxiously in their cabins, sicker than ever, but this time I escaped that misery and stopped on deck, struck by the fury of the elements.
The bad weather lasted a week, till on March 23 we greeted with joy the lighthouse of King George Sound, near Albany, on the south coast of Australia. Our sick were now taken to the quarantine hospital, and the rest of us were glad enough to get on land, and escape from the pestilential atmosphere. The yellow flag waved over us as we ran into the harbour; no pilot boarded us, and we berthed alone, remaining isolated until the 26th, when we put to sea.
In stormy weather we sailed along the Australian coast to Melbourne, where we anchored, again in quarantine.
April 1 brought beautiful weather, and the harbour was like an immense lake. It was Easter Sunday. Pleasure steamers with bands on board passed to and fro, but kept well clear at sight of our yellow flag. It was no festival for us, and we longingly gazed across from the infected ship to land. Our food was wretched —
Two days later I went ashore. I followed the path leading to the graveyard of the quarantine station, a peaceful scene of humble crosses. The hill was overgrown with wild flowers, and bright-coloured butterflies fluttered past the graves of those unfortunates who had died on the way from Motherland to Land of Promise. I sat down under a tree near the grave of a German, took out my mouth-organ, and played the songs of home. The feathered inhabitants of Australia fascinated me.
On April 8 we went to Williamstown, and thence by rail to Melbourne, where I stayed until the 11th. This modern town, only thirty-five years old, already numbered 300,000 inhabitants. The progressive spirit of the colonial was remarkable. At the station I took leave of many of my companions of the Bungalore. The rats had played havoc with the possessions of some. One had nearly all the uppers of his only pair of shoes chewed away, while another had holes gnawed through his one and only hat. The day we reached Melbourne being Sunday, all the shops were closed, so we had to stay indoors.
I was much struck by the universal use of the horse. The postman galloped from house to house and whistled for people to come and take their letters, travellers rode round with samples in their saddlebags, butcher-boys with giant baskets called out from horseback the magic word 'Meat' until their customers
I visited Consul Thoenemann, who did his best for me, and found somebody to guide me about, bought a ticket to Tasmania, and then went to the Botanical Gardens to see Baron Miller, Sir Frederick Miller was knighted for his twenty years' service to Australian botany.—Ed.
Back at the hotel I found a letter waiting for me from Dr. Julius von Haast, begging me to start work at Christchurch as soon as possible; so I shipped next day in rough weather on the little steamer Tangaroa, bound first of all for Hobart.
One night, passing along the coast, we watched a great bush fire, which lit up the horizon like a mighty torch. The weather was still wretched. One or two missionaries were on deck, holding a prayer-meeting with a congregation of women and girls. Suddenly the ship gave a lurch, and a big wave swept them all against the rail. Wet through, they were not long in making for their bunks. Truly Tangaroa, the Maori sea-god, listens to no prayers!
On the 18th we saw land again, little islands backed by a grand chain of snow-covered peaks. It was the south coast of the South Island of New Zealand.
Natives had come over from Ruapuke Island to barter fish; they were the first Maoris I ever saw. When they heard I had come to have a look at their country, they wanted me to go straightway with them to their island. The chief, who spoke in broken English, told me they had a German missionary there with whom they got on well, so I sent him greetings on a card.
On April 20, we reached Port Chalmers, where I found von Menderhausen (the German Consul) awaiting me; also Professor Hutton, who accompanied me by rail to Dunedin, gave me lunch, and showed me the Museum.
Next day twelve cannon-shot from the fort announced the arrival of the Governor, in whose honour festivities had been arranged; and the day following I found myself bound for Lyttelton, where my future chief, Dr. Julius von Haast, was waiting for me. As it was Sunday, all shops were closed, and we had to prove we were bona fide travellers before they would give us lunch at the hotel. In sparkling champagne we drank to success in my new home.
At Christchurch we went straight to the Museum, the new wing of which was still empty. Case upon case of raw skins and crude skeletons in the storerooms showed me that I should have my work cut out. After a hurried inspection we went to Dr. von Haast's house, where I was introduced to his wife and children. Mrs. von Haast kindly put me up for the night, and
I started work at the Museum on the 24th. The opening ceremony was to take place on June 10, and by then Sir Julius wanted to have the best groups ready, so I set to on two of the largest. In the first, I placed three grizzly bears before a cave, clawing at a dead antelope, while from a rock above a lynx and a condor looked greedily down on this vanishing prey. The second group showed two chamois springing away frightened at sight of an eagle's eyrie, while, against a mountainous background of snow, white hares were playing and little marmots squatting among the rocks. A mountain cock was perched on the branch of a tree, beneath which the hens were strutting in a group. Both groups were ready by June 5, when the Governor came to see the work, and congratulated me.
The opening ceremony went off very well. All the town officials were gathered to receive the Governor. A band played the National Anthem, the choir sang songs, and the banquet which terminated the proceedings lasted until midnight. On our way home, Dr. von Haast got alarmed about burglars, especially as he had forgotten to warn the constables to be on the look-out. So I fetched a revolver and stood guard in the corridor. Sure enough, I had not been there more than half an hour when I heard the sound of approaching footsteps, and voices whispering under the window. I crept softly to the side door and tried to open it, but the lock grated and warned the intruders. Rushing
Next morning the papers were full of the new Museum, and for several days after the opening, it was filled to overflowing. I was now able to take a little more leisure, and had time for a number of small outings. On one of these occasions I spent some days in the neighbourhood of Little River, where I was enchanted by my first experience of the New Zealand bush.
On September 11, three days after leaving Christchurch, we met a Maori who took us along to his pa, or Maori fortress, where I was soon surrounded by a circle of men, women, and children, who were surprised to find I was not English. They examined my clothing, gun, and sheath-knife, inquired curiously about the country I came from, and then gave us a meal of pork and potatoes. They also looked at my photographs, and when we went away gave me a greenstone axe.
By the middle of December I was beginning to think of a much longer trip than had hitherto been possible. Choosing the best part of the year, the summer, I wanted to cross the South Island from east to west, hoping thereby to gain my first real experience of the New Zealand bush and mountains. It was nothing out of the ordinary to undertake, but once I had chosen a horse and bought tent and tucker, I was seized with impatient longing to be off.
I Left Christchurch on horseback early on December 18. The Canterbury Plains stretched before me as far as Malvern Hill. On both sides of the road lay farms, with paddocks stretching endlessly. It conjured up visions of my own home, save that here and there I caught sight of a strange bird, or of a palm-tree, or heard the sound of a strange tongue, to break the illusion.
And then, behind Malvern Hill, the landscape suddenly changed. Here were bare tussock-clad mountains and stony morain-slopes, and deep valleys crossed by many a roaring creek, where still lingered the majestic remains of virgin bush, forming the passage from flat pastoral charm to the heroic majesty of the hills.
I stayed the night in the little village of Malvern, getting my horse shod at the smithy, and left on the 19th by a rough track over a stony ridge. As my horse had a heavy load, I went on foot, leading him by the bridle. At one place on the track I saw dotterel running over the hills, and without thinking my horse might not be used to the sound of a gun, I let loose and shot one. As the shot rang out, there was a tug at the bridle and the horse broke loose. It took two hours to catch him, and when I had done so, I found to my disgust that some of my most valued possessions
Finally I came to a sheep station. After I had yelled and knocked for a long time, a woman came and opened the door, but as soon as she saw I was carrying a gun she refused to listen to my request for a night's lodging, and suspiciously banged the door to in my face. There was nothing for it but to trudge on. It began to rain, and became so black that I could not see a step in front. I rode through two swollen streams, and Was thankful about midnight to arrive at the boarding-house of Porter's Pass.
Here also I had to knock for half an hour before the door was opened. After seeing to my horse and dog I was at last able to enjoy a bite of cold mutton and a cup of tea, the best that was to be had. I had to pay nearly a pound for this accommodation, and then had to sleep in the stable, as I wanted to start off at four next morning.
It was a beautiful morning; the fresh mountain air did me good after the enervating heat of the plains. The mountain-side was bare and covered with loose boulders; only here and there manuka, akeake, or other shrub was fighting a dour battle for existence. On the west side, at the foot of the Pass, lay a little lake, the Lyndon. Paradise duck, grey duck, little grebe, and other water dwellers were enjoying life
A procession of pack-horses came jogging along towards me; they were going to fetch stores for Malvern Hill sheep station. About three o'clock I reached the station of Mr. Enys, a patron of our Museum, for whom I had a letter from Dr. von Haast. I found him in the shearing-shed. In this part of the world the sheep are never washed, and are only shorn once a year, the wool being then pressed into bales and sent to Europe. Shearing is carried out very quickly, sometimes as many as a hundred shearers working together in two rows. Mr. Enys owned over 20,000 sheep, and yet was a long way from being the biggest sheep-owner in New Zealand, for there are stations which support 60,000 sheep.
After a good supper and a refreshing sleep I was again up early on the 21st. Another wonderful day! My way lay through thick bush in the hollows of which lay little swamps full of reeds, out of which Maorihens (wekas) were peering. On Rickerborn Lake I shot some duck, but one of them, before my dog could retrieve it, was pulled under by an eel. A heavy thunderstorm took me by surprise. The rain fell in torrents, and my horse showed great fear of the lightning, which flashed almost unceasingly across the sky. After dark, at a bend in the road where it wound high over a precipice, in whose depths the Waimakariri was tossing, I suddenly found the four-horse postcoach coming towards me at a gallop. My horse began
At eleven o'clock I reached Mr. Bruce's station, and was not a little surprised at finding such a comfortable home in this lonely spot. After a good supper I went to bed, but was too tired to sleep, in spite of my cosy lodging. Next day the weather was so miserable that Mr. Bruce would not let me go any farther.
Early on the 23rd I left, accompanied by a boy. We rode down to the Waimakariri River — a mighty stream which rises in the central chain of the Southern Alps near Mount Greenlow, and is fed by the melting of several glaciers. In many places the river forced its way through precipitous banks, then it would spread itself out again, and separate into numerous channels flowing over gravel. In one such place we found it possible to cross both arms, though the rain had swollen them considerably. Luckily my companion knew the ford well.
He left me here, and I rode on alone to Bealey, which lies on the tableland between the Waimakariri and Bealey Rivers. This being the last post and telegraph station, I took the opportunity of sending off some letters and a telegram to Dr. von Haast before riding on.
At first the road led along the foot of a mountain, then by the broad Bealey River, much swollen by the recent rains, which I had to cross and recross several times. On both sides of me rose high wooded hills. Numbers of parrots were darting about among the mighty trees. About eleven o'clock I reached the foot
The landscape grew more and more romantic. In the valley the river pushed its foaming way through the gorges, but now the mighty trees soon gave way to gnarled and stunted shrubs. Towards the south-west numerous waterfalls tumbled over the face of the rock,
and Mount Rolleston behind raised a majestic head gleaming with snow. Numerous rata trees (Metrosideros lucida), with fire-red blossom, burned strikingly against the dark-green background of the forest. Honey-suckers were flying round the trees, drawing the honey out of the flowers. The steel-green parson-bird (tui), with his white necktie, was piping merrily away, and the bell-bird was singing his marvellous song, while green bush wrens (Xenicus) were hopping around, softly
I had another breather at midday when I got to the top of the Pass, and then began the descent to the wildly romantic Otira Gorge. Owing to the heavy rains the road was flooded in several places, and it began to snow, summer though it was, so I had some difficulty in getting the horse any farther.
At length I reached the Gorge. Between high and nearly perpendicular walls of rock, on which fern and moss were growing luxuriantly, the wild Otira roared and tossed its stony way valleywards. From the crest and in the nooks of the stream, tree-fern, creeper vine, and other luxuriant vegetation hung in thick confusion. In one short stretch I passed ten waterfalls. Unfortunately, the teeming rain spoiled my enjoyment of this most beautiful and striking piece of New Zealand landscape. Soaked through to the skin, I at length reached the Otira boarding-house, situated at the junction of the Otira and the Teremakau.
Here I found good accommodation, changed my clothes, devoured my supper, fed the animals, and went to bed. The bad weather continued on the 24th, and my host strongly advised me not to go on. I could not afford to do this, for the longer I waited the higher grew the torrent which I should have to cross. Very carefully I rode into the flood, and had safely reached the middle when my horse lost his footing and slipped. With a sudden jerk I brought
I now found myself in the Teremakau Valley, which presented quite a different appearance. I was riding through thick bush, which climbed up the mountain slopes for 2000 feet. Through the tree-tops now and again I caught glimpses of the shimmering glacier. Tremendous beech and miro trees roofed over the rich undergrowth of fern and tree-fern. The track itself was lined with manuka and veronica bushes. To the right of me brawled the Teremakau. A multitudinous bird life inhabited this dusky wilderness, and laid a spell on me.
At eleven o'clock that night I came across a primitive inn situated in the middle of the bush. Immediately I saw it I thought of the tiny wooden hut of the Knusperhexe at home, and my illusion was even stronger when an old woman opened the door. She assured me she was an excellent cook, on the strength of which I ordered a Christmas pudding to celebrate Christmas Eve.
Alas! the so-called pudding was terrible! It was hard as a brick, and there was nothing for it but to give it to my ravenous dog, and content myself with tea. My bed was miserable, so altogether I regretted that I had not camped in the open. The strangeness of things made me feel that the proper place for Christmas is round one's own domestic hearth.
Next morning I rode on through magnificent forest. A rich and summerlike world of colour was all around me, and yet in my heart I was still longing for the
During the morning gold-diggers and shepherds came riding in to celebrate — a wild party of adventurers. The long table was laid, and a Christmas feast brought in, such as no one would have dreamt of in such a wilderness. There was pork and roast mutton, chicken, and finally pudding. After this royal meal mine host brought out an old flintlock, shot, and powder-horn, and proposed a shooting match, putting up the old shooting-iron as a prize. The guests enthusiastically agreed, for the diggers and shepherds of the backblocks arc excellent shots and passionate huntsmen. But the Christmas grog by now had so unstcadied their limbs that the one to win the prize was the landlord himself — the only sober member of the party! The prowess of this wily old shooting champion was hereupon duly celebrated, naturally with more grog.
A few of the men now began to sing and dance, and others joining in, the tiny room became so crowded that if one lost his balance all the others tumbled over him and found it difficult to struggle to their legs again. They went on like this, drinking, singing, and dancing, till morning. When I stopped drinking, one of them staggered across to me, and as I was about to go upstairs to my own room, he made a spring at me,
Such was my first Christmas in the wilds. I could hardly be expected to be as festive as these adventurers, who work hard and save for months on end, and then go and blue all away on a single occasion. When they have slept off their intoxication the game begins anew — work, save, until the next debauch.
Next morning, Boxing Day, I found these men still noisily drinking. About noon the manager, Bruce, came along with two shepherds from the Haihuna station to fetch me. They said the Teremakau was so swollen that we had better wait until next day. I filled in the rest of the day climbing the nearest mountain.
High up among the tussock, keas ( Nestor notabilis) were hopping about among the stones and grass. They are fine-looking birds, audacious too, olive-green in colour, with darker bands. On the ground the kea is helpless, just hopping about like other parrots; but when he rises aloft into the sky he sweeps in circles like a hawk, up and up, until he appears but a minute speck. His call sounds like that of a rock-eagle — 'Kia … kiaaaa!' Up here I found this bird very trusting. I shot one.
This parrot is one of the characteristic rarities of the country. There are three kinds of nestors in New Zealand, outwardly little to be distinguished from one another, the Nestor montanus, meridionalis (kaka), and notabilis. But whereas the first two have remained true to type — harmless vegetarian feeders on seeds,
His powerful sharp beak, bent like an eagle's, his pointedshapely wings and long-drawn-out cry, make him easily recognisable for a bird of prey. As far as human beings are concerned, he is harmless and trustful, and was only troublesome to me through his innate curiosity, which often led him into my tent during my absence. Then I would find my shoes or clothes had been bitten through.
Flitting about among the stones like the European wren was the olive-green wren (Xenicus longipes). If I followed them, they played hide-and-seek with me without running away. They were catching insects, snapping at them with their pointed beaks, swallowing them, and then whispering to each other about it. Besides these two varieties of birds I noticed the brown swamp-hawk (Circus gouldi), which is common everywhere and very destructive, slowly winging its way in wide circles over the Alps.
To get to the boarding-house before nightfall I had to look quick about returning. Arrived there, I found the drinkers still hard at it. Next morning, the 27th, the weather was again fine.
Mr. Cameron brought the news that the river had fallen, so the horses were saddled and packed. Mr. Jackson accompanied us. Although the river was lower, the water at the ford was still up to my saddle. Leaving the river, we crossed a high plain ringed round with wooded mountains.
On the 28th I rode round the station with the manager. The plain was some 8 miles long by 4 wide: the dried-up bed of a lake bounded on the north by the Taipo, Rangapuku, and Teremakau, from south to west by the Brunner, Poerua, and Ladi lakes, and to the north-west by Mount Alexander.
I rode on afterwards to the mountain running down to Lake Brunner. The bush consisted of mighty beech and conifers. When I got to the edge I tied up my horse, and went on foot into the forest, which was swarming with nestor, tuis, and bell-birds. Within, grey-throats and other singers were carolling, hopping about and pecking at the moss-covered earth, and searching for insects under the roots of trees.
Fan-tails (Rhipidura flabellifera and fuliginosa), those delightful creatures, were flitting about like butterflies, and catching gnats and sandflies, which were here in myriads. Whenever they caught anything they would snap their beaks together in a satisfied way. The pigeons were cooing, and now and again the wekas boomed softly, and spied curiously out of their hiding-places among the roots.
While enjoying myself watching these birds, I heard a sudden cry of terror, and they all fled into the bush. A hawk had descended upon them. With a tui in its claws it plunged into the bush. I followed the daring robber, but without paying any heed to direction, and it was two hours before he came within range, and then I killed him in flight.
But now, when I struck off homewards, all the trees looked the same, and the whole hillside too, Athene novaezelandise) softly glided by me; they settled on the branches and let out their monotonous 'Morepork!'
After hours of blind wandering I called; my horse answered with a joyful neigh. Even then it was some time before I could get out into the open, when my horse, which had broken loose, came charging excitedly towards me. I rode across, to the station, which I reached at two o'clock in the morning, had a drink of tea, and then went to bed.
At 4 a.m. on New Year's Eve I left the Haihuna station with my dog, going west by a sheep-track leading up from the edge of the bush. Mount Alexander towered above me to the north, and to the left stretched the wide Haihuna Plain, covered with tussock and fern, on which thousands of sheep were grazing.
The weather was fine. The long-tailed cuckoo was calling from the tree-tops, and the morning concert of the bell-birds was as though the trees were hung with lightly tinkling silvery bells. Tuis were playing aloft in the air, and millions of dewdrops glittered on the trees. Little owls were flittering through the thickets; they were looking for hiding-places in which to sleep and digest for the remainder of the day. Maori-hens timidly peeping out of the fern turned back to warn their companions of my approach.
I called a halt near a spring, dragged some wood along for a fire, and boiled the billy. The fire brought along all the feathered denizens of the forest: yellow-
After a short rest I continued my way upwards, but stones and boulders made the ascent difficult. Wild sheep were standing among the stunted bushes near the hills, with wool nearly 15 inches long. Their eyes were so covered that they only noticed me when a puff of wind reached them from my direction, where-upon they quickly took to flight. I found a camping-ground beside a rock, carried some wood there from the neighbouring bushes, and lighted my camp-fire. The evening was wonderful. The moon was climbing up out of the sea of mist which covered the valley. The deep silence was only broken by the shrill pipe of a kiwi or the melancholy call of a weka.
My first solitary New Year's Eve in the wilds! I leaned against the rocks, and my thoughts flowed back to the dear ones at home. I thought of past years spent among friends, with good wine and good food. Now I was alone, with nothing but mouldy ship's biscuits and tea.
I Welcomed the year 1878 in Austrian fashion, with Ocydromus troglodytes), a rare specimen. Such was the ornithologist's New Year's present from the bush.
After midnight the clouds piled up and darkened the face of the moon. A sharp breeze got up, which soon degenerated into a gale; trees were brought low and rocks sent crashing down the mountain-side. I was obliged to shift camp and fire to a more sheltered spot, to escape the hailstones which were whipping violently across my face. Although in January it is midsummer in New Zealand, yet up here this New Year's morning there lay 12 inches of snow, and I awoke to find around me a homelike winter landscape.
As the weather showed no sign of bettering, I descended the mountain, slithering most of the way, but lost my bearings. It became dark too, and in the valleys it was raining in torrents, so that it was midnight by the time I got, to the station. Even then I found I could not get over the swollen creek. I yelled for all I was worth, and fired off five shots, and at last a shepherd came and asked what was the matter. I got him to bring me a horse, and eventually managed to cross. Wet through and tired out as I was, it did not take me long to tumble into bed.
On January 2 I started off early, in company with Mr. Garrow, a fisherman who lived in a lonely hut on the shores of Lake Brunner. His little boat took us up the narrow Rangapuku, which winds through dense bush to the lake. The branches of great trees, the veil-like fan of tree-ferns, and the thickly interwoven network of creepers formed a solid roof over the water, so that it was often a job to get through, rowing from a lying position.
The rays of the newly-risen sun gleamed like stars on thousands of shining dewdrops hanging from the soft-tinged web of fern. Then the forest awoke. The multitudinous voice of birds, the rustle of trees, and the murmur of waters voiced the eternal song of the living earth. The forms of fish gleamed dimly through the water, and on the surface duck and diver made an animated picture. Often our way was blocked by tree-trunks stretched across the creek, and then we had to lift the canoe over.
After a long and wonderful journey the bush grew lighter. Soon our boat was gliding out on to the broad Brunner lake, now rippled by a light breeze. Black swan, duct, and tufted diver were swimming about. Towards evening we landed before the fisherman's log hut. In the middle was a fireplace made of stone, and near by, fastened to a heavy chain, a tea-kettle.
This shack was the only dwelling on the lake. The bush stretched around for miles. On January 3 and 4 I took a walk through the bush, observing and bringing back a few birds, among them a brown Creadion cinereus), the existence of which had hitherto been questioned.
Towards the end of my journey a shower of rain took me by surprise, and I got back wet through. The fisherman lent me what he could from his primitive wardrobe — a pair of pants much too tight and at least a foot too short, and a faded coat which he might have inherited from his great-grandfather. The lapels of this coat hung behind me like a tail, and the collar just roofed over the back of my head; the buttonholes were made of twine, and for buttons I used pegs of wood. To complete the effect I wore a sort of top-hat daubed all over, and a pair of double-sewn canoe-like shoes. In this hermit's attire — enough to rouse pity in any one — I struggled forth to the lake to wash my clothes.
As we were sitting by the fire the same evening, two pets came along on a visit, a large brown rat and a wood-hen (weka), who enjoyed the hermit's hospitality every night at tea-time. Each could be called by name, and up to now they had always shared supper peacefully together; but to-night things came to a tragic issue. The rat snatched up a piece of fish which the fisherman threw him. The weka, thinking it should be hers, tried to snatch it away. In the quarrel that ensued the rat ran off; but the weka was just as nimble as he, and gave him such a peck on the head that he tumbled over dead.
Next day we both went back to the station, which I left early on the 7th in order to climb Mount Alexander from the south-east. This time I took tucker,
From the summit I had a beautiful view over a mass of bush, the Teremakau Valley with its mighty river, then, the Taipo and Rangapuku, with the Brunner, Poerua, and Ladi lakes. Farther off lay the township of Greymouth, the goldfield of Kumara, and two Maori pas. The sun was just casting his last rays over the mountain-tops, and after he had disappeared from the western skies the cloud-streaks blazed Like burning sheaves of corn. Slowly the grey mist crept up from the valleys, and a cool breeze reminded me that I must hurry up and fetch a store of wood.
It was high time indeed, for it grew dark and perceptibly colder. My tent was soon pitched: a few tea-tree branches for supports, a quantity of grass, a waterproof ground-sheet above and below, and the camp was ready. The fire crackled merrily before my tent, and all round reigned the sublime stillness of the wilds. Tired from the fatigue of the ascent, I was soon fast asleep.
On the 8th the weather was bad. I decided not to push on farther as it was snowy. I got back to the station about midnight in teeming rain.
On the 10th I dug in old Maori middens, finding a few tools, stone-axes, and little greenstone ornaments. But afterwards, when near Lake Brunner, I dug up one of the precious great greenstone clubs and an axe of the same noble material. Then my searcher's heart beat high with joy.
As the weather continued to be everlastingly miserable, I began to think about returning; but the Tere-makau was so flooded that it was impossible to cross. So I turned back to the station, and waited there until January 19, when, accompanied by the manager, I rode to the river. We found it somewhat subsided though still muddy, and had to swim our horses across.
My companion took a hearty farewell of me at Jackson's post station, where I called a brief halt for breakfast. The road was very bad, strewn with rocks and trees which the storm and flood had left, besides being flooded and obliterated in many places. At length I reached the Otira, which had also overflowed its banks. On the opposite side shepherds were camped with a great herd of sheep and cattle destined for the market at Hokitika. They thought it impossible to cross the wild flood, and sang out to me to camp where I was and wait until the water went down. I put my faith, however, in my good horse Tom. Fortunately, he found a good spot, and though we were carried a bit downstream, we managed to land unharmed on the other side.
I found good fodder for him at the Otira boarding-house, and then went on to Arthur's Pass, where I
It was dark by the time I reached Bealey station. After knocking for some time I was told that no night's lodgings were to be had there. I did not want to camp out in the open on account of the bad weather, and I determined, therefore, to undertake the hazardous enterprise in pitch-black night of fording the swift Waimakariri, already the cause of several deaths. The adventure succeeded, in spite of the fatigue of horse and rider, and we arrived safely at Mr. Bruce's station after midnight. He made us very welcome.
The 20th was beautiful and warm again. I rode on to Lake Rickerborn, and stopped there a bit to hunt water-fowl. On the 21st it was raining in torrents, so I set off on the next stage of my journey. Wet through, I arrived at Castlehill, where Mr. Enys kindly put me up. Riding on at a good pace, I passed Lake Lyndon, and climbed sharply up to cross Porter's Pass. At the top I found it miserably cold, and was glad enough in the evening to reach the station, where I could warm myself and dry my clothes beside the fire. On the 23rd I rode to Malvern Hill, which I reached by noon, and from there on I rode alongside the post-coach to Christchurch,
Thus happily and without untoward incident ended my first long ride in New Zealand, from which I had brought back a number of interesting specimens.
I now set to busily with the work at the Museum. The rhinoceros' skin I was working on soon became soft, and by February 18 I was able to set up both this and the model of an elephant. Now and again I made little hunting excursions to Forty Mile Beach, New Brighton, and other places, but on these occasions I generally came back and worked late at night in the Museum.
One day I watched an amusing street scene. A somewhat too cheerful Maori strolled up to a Chinaman, pulled a scornful face, and caught hold of his pigtail, asking him what that might be. The Chinese moved no muscle, but pointed to the Maori's tattooing and asked, 'And what's that?' Things would have come to a scrap if the Chinese had not quickly taken to flight before the rage of the Maori, whose national pride had been badly injured, had time to break out.
It is strange how all over the world foolish people — in this case the Maori — will laugh at the customs of other races, and regard their own with the utmost reverence!
There was a great sensation in Christchurch at the time. A big circus had arrived from America with, among other things, seven elephants, eight camels, six lions, a tiger, a jaguar, a leopard, a rhinoceros,
On April 8 I borrowed a young horse, and rode to Sumner, and thence continued along the sandy coast. Unthinkingly I took a pot from horseback at a bird which flew over. It fell on my horse's head, making him rear up, buck, and generally do his damnedest to shake me off. The left stirrup and the right rein broke, and at the next spring the girth gave, so saddle and I fell into the sea. The wild creature made off with the saddle-bags, in which were my kill, sheath-knife, and instruments I valued. The owner's son, who was with me, dashed off in pursuit, but it was no use. Sore and bruised, I was obliged to go back to Christchurch on foot. Three days later the horse was caught, but my things were lost irretrievably.
About this time my landlady gave me the sad information that she was moving to another place, and would therefore have to give me notice. I was very sorry to leave such peaceful rooms and this kindly family. The move took place on May 11. I found another place, it is true, but it was dear, and the accommodation was poor.
On the 19th I went off hunting into the bush. As I was approaching the Maori pa of Moeraki, I saw the chief's daughter riding astride like a man, but as soon as she saw me coming, she rode away like a whirlwind. A great collection of dogs behind her fell on my dog, and I had to drive them off with my whip. From here I turned back to Lyttelton, but all the people I
In the town itself I found the force of colonial custom still more severe. In vain I wandered from hotel to hotel; all of them refused to serve me as soon as they saw my sporting dress, even though, according to law, I had a right to claim attention as a traveller. With empty stomach and mouth dry as a bone, I sadly continued my way back to Christchurch.
On my next excursion, to Taylor's Mistake, I noticed a good-sized animal running between the rocks. On killing it, I was astonished to find it was a brown rat of exceptional size. I found from the half-gnawed remains strewn about that it had been living on sea-spiders and stranded fish.
A few skins of Apteryx australis, the Alpine kiwi, arrived from the west coast. These birds had been regarded as extinct, no specimen having been found for the last five years, I bought four pair for my collection for about £40, and carefully prepared them.
I was at work up to the 28th on a tiger. While painting the mouth of the animal, a curious farmer came into the laboratory and asked why I had painted so many stripes on its body. He was astounded when I told him that the natural skin of the animal had these markings!
A farmer from New Brighton came to see me one day, and offered me a rare species of whale (Ziphedon) which had been stranded on the coast. I went along with my assistant, and it took eight days' hard work before we could cut the fat and flesh off the bones.
It had been my aim ever since I had come to New Zealand to get hold of a well-trained dog — one that would be of service in all eventualities. I had already tried several, but none of them proved very useful. At length I succeeded in getting hold of a young New Zealander, whom I called Cæsar. He was two months old, and so ugly that my friends congratulated me on having found the ugliest dog in the country.
I stuck to my opinion, however, and reared him on a mixture of kindness and severity. Within a short time he had mastered all the things necessary to a good hunting dog. Not only that, but he developed qualities quite out of the ordinary, so that he became the companion of all my expeditions, faithful and clever as any human being. Cæsar served me for eleven years, and what a wonder of sagacity, faithfulness, and self-sacrifice he was, passes the measure of all belief. On leaving the country, I wrote the history of this intrepid New Zealander, which was published by Mr. Brett of Auckland, and I took the liberty of dedicating it 'To the people of New Zealand.'
Dr. von Haast, the celebrated New Zealand geologist, who for many years had been visiting and exploring the New Zealand mountain region, one day proposed a joint expedition to the Alps, in the hopes of
We started on February 27, at seven o'clock in the morning. We first went by rail to Colgate, and from there continued our way merrily — too merrily, alas! — in a two-wheel cart across trackless country, through creeks and swamps. We had to hang on pretty tight, and greeted the sight of the boarding-house of Wind — whistle, perched high above the Rakaia River, with a sigh of relief. This house gets its strange name from the fact that through all the rooms, even when only a light breeze is blowing, the wind whistles in all keys.
We jumped out of the wretched cart, thanking God that none of our bones were broken. A hearty meal also cheered us up. Then we amused ourselves by shooting at empty bottles, until Mr. Gerhart came along with his wagon to take us to the station at Snowdon.
Gerhart, whom Dr. von Haast had informed of our intentions, was a rich farmer, who inhabited a comfortable farmhouse in these beautiful alpine highlands, situated among wide-stretching pastures. He treated us with the utmost kindness.
Next morning I was out at dawn to look at the magnificent landscape. Here cultivated land bordered right upon the virgin mountain world. Grass-covered terraces and hill-tops mounted right up from the broad plain, through which the Rakaia made its way along a
After breakfast, horses were saddled; we thanked our host, and left the station, accompanied by a shepherd. Up and down wound the serpentine path. The horses behaved like true climbers, though at one difficult place our pack-horse nearly managed to lose his load. About three in the afternoon we came to a valley, where we found several shepherds camped beside a wool-wagon. They gave us a good meal of mutton, bread, and tea, which went down particularly well after our strenuous ride.
We took a three hours' rest and then went on, safely crossing the Wilberford River. The current, however, carried my dog so far downstream that it took him half an hour to struggle back to us. Towards evening we reached Mr. Neave's station, Rakaia Fork. A shepherd took charge of our horses, and we entered the house, where a hearty welcome awaited us.
I was not a little surprised to be addressed in German by the lady of the house. She turned put to have been a Baroness von Rosenburg, and had been born in Dresden. After an excellent meal she entertained us to a pianoforte concert. Masterpieces of music
Next morning, March 1, 1879, a shepherd and I started off on a reconnoitring expedition. First we climbed the neighbouring Goathill, the foot of which we reached by means of a sheep-track through pine, shrub, and fern-tree. The higher we got, the weaker and more stunted the vegetation became. The ground was covered with various kinds of fern, lichen, and moss. Above the wood, numbers of sheep were grazing among the tussock. Still higher up we came to rocks, among which we plucked some edelweiss. From here we climbed on to Mount Alcides. It was hard going, but a romantic panorama of glaciers, lakes, rivers, and streams, tumbling in cascades from the heights, made it Worth while. We then climbed down into the valley, where there was a shepherds' hut, and there stopped the night.
Up and breakfasted by dawn of the following day, we now climbed upwards over snowfields, and reached the summit about two o'clock in the afternoon. Unfortunately, this time we could not see far, as a heavy mist came up out of the valleys. It began to snow, so we started on the homeward trail. We lost our way in the mist, and had a terrible job clambering over the rocks, along wild mountain torrents, and then through the bush, until finally we reached the old shepherds' hut, which we lost no time in occupying.
This same day, while I was out hunting over the rocks, Cæsar gave me an unexpected surprise. Tail wagging and mouth tightly shut, he came rushing up to me. Uncomprehending, I ordered him to open his mouth. To my great astonishment out flew — a little bird! Cæsar gazed in the direction in which it disappeared, and then turned to me reproachfully as much as to say, 'If you had only understood, then my captive would not have escaped.' Later on he developed his skill to such a fine art that he would catch butterflies alive in his mouth and bring them along to me.
A frightful snowstorm got up during the night, which shook our hut as though it were made of paper. This continuous bad weather forced us to turn back next day. We reached the station about seven o'clock that evening.
On March 4, at three in the morning, the horses were saddled and packed. Our party had been augmented by three men, so that now five of us rode away towards the mountains. A pack-horse with tucker, camp equipment, and instruments followed. As there was no track, we rode across the open, through shrub, grass, and over broken, boulder-strewn ground, then across some creeks and up a valley. On all sides thick bush stretched up the mountain-sides, broken here and there by masses of dark rock, over which waterfalls were tumbling. We called a halt about six in the evening, tents were pitched, wood collected, and soon the billy was simmering over the open fire. Supper consisted of mutton, bread, and tea, and a
Save for the grazing of the horses, which had been tied together close by, silence reigned supreme. Wekas gathered round the fire, which was a strange thing to them, and occasionally let out their drumlike call, ending in a melancholy pipe. Little wood-owls passed like ghosts over the still-glowing fire, hunting for rats, which were gnawing at the bones we had thrown away. We crept into our tents and were soon asleep. If began to rain, and as these were only made of thin calico, the water came through and waked me.
On March 5 the horses were brought in, and after a hasty snack we were soon away. We went along the wide bed of the Rakaia. The landscape was the same as on the previous day, only that we began to get a view of the snow-covered mountain-tops. Small herds of wild cattle took to flight when they caught the wind from our direction, and made quite a to-do breaking into the bush or flopping into the foaming river and swimming to the other side.
Towards three o'clock we reached a half-fallen hut. This being a good camping-ground, where the horses could also find food, we pitched our tents. A great distance off, at the foot of the Ramson Glacier, I noticed little moving figures. Field-glasses showed them to be a herd of some thirty wild cattle out on the open grassland. I took my rifle and tried to stalk them, but they must have winded me, for they moved still farther off.
Another member of the expedition who had hurried after me killed a young beast. As the shot rang out, the herd dispersed in all directions, one old stock-bull jumping into the river, which carried him down with it, but he worked his way across in masterly fashion, and then disappeared into the bush. The dead beast was skinned and cut up. He was very fat, and soon his sirloins were roasting over the camp fire. Sides and back were cut into small pieces, salted, and hung up in the air to dry, while the remainder was kept for our dogs.
Our next camp was situated at the foot of Whitcombe Pass, where the ground formed itself into grassy terraces. Round about the scenery was wonderful. A few hundred yards before us the Rakaia River took its source from the icy rim of the glacier, the Whitcombe River tumbled in cascades along its stony bed, and the Ramson and Lyell Glaciers stretched their mighty surfaces of gleaming ice right into the valley. We could hear avalanches crashing down with the noise of thunder. Alpine parrots were inspecting our camp with curious eyes from the surrounding trees. Every man had his job to do: Mr. Enys was the cook, Mr. Neave chopped wood and helped Dr. von Haast wash up, Mr. Bonn looked after the horses, while I
On the 6th of March we rode to the river. Mr. Neave, who had the reputation of being one of the best of men to find his way across a ford, went on in front to discover a place that was neither too deep nor too rapid. We rode in after him. The stream carried us down a bit, but we all landed safely. Between the wall of rock and the river there was only just enough room for the horses to find a footing. I helped Dr. von Haast with a rope, for he was no longer young, and had grown somewhat corpulent. After a few hours' climbing, we came out on to a tableland covered with tussock. Round us stretched three glaciers, the Ramson, the Lyell, and one which Dr. von Haast named after me, the Reischek Glacier.
We found on this tableland, heather, marigolds, and a great quantity of snow-berries, with which we refreshed ourselves. We noticed bird-tracks, which Dr. von Haast at first took to be those of a notornis, but after a, fresh inspection we decided they were kiwi marks. Otherwise we saw neither bird nor insect, save that Mr. Enys caught a new species of butterfly. Dr. von Haast stayed behind here, as he was feeling rather tired. I went on climbing farther over the snow and ice — of the Reischek Glacier. By the time I returned, Dr. von Haast had arranged his plants. We packed everything, and started on the descent. The undergrowth was so thick that in many places we could not get through, and had to climb over. This proved
Eventually we came upon our horses. My companions crossed the river while I was strapping my collection on the saddle, and on this account I paid no heed to where they had crossed. When I rode into the water I found I was too low down and my horse was forced against a great wall of rock close on to a waterfall. It was a tight corner, but we clambered out all right.
It was late evening by the time we reached our tents. We found them plastered with hundreds of great blow-flies which had covered our bedding and clothing with their eggs. Even after we had pulled down the tent and cleaned out our bunks, such a buzzing persisted the whole night through that none of us could sleep. Mr. Whitcombe, the courageous explorer after whom this Pass was named, had lost his life like this. Some years before, when returning this way from an expedition, the blow-flies spoiled all his provisions and covered his blankets with eggs, making them quite useless. Consequently he was starved and frozen to death.
Next morning, March 7, various members of our little party went off on their own, Dr. von Haast only remaining behind to mend his clothes and arrange his plants. Enys and Neave went reconnoitring, Bonn went to catch the horses, and I climbed Rose Glacier from the south. To reach the snowfield was a four hours' climb, and then I had to turn back on account
After lunch I went to the Whitcombe River. Parrots were sitting among the rocks. I followed, but did not succeed in stalking any. I heard some mountain duck on the river, and shot one, which my dog had some difficulty in retrieving from the rapid current. Soon after it began to grow dark, until the moon rose and lit up the surroundings with its pale rays. The waste of glacier with its shimmering ice and snow lay before me, and on either side were steep walls of rock which threw a deep shadow into the valleys below. Perfect silence reigned, save for the occasional pipe of a mountain duck.
I got back very late, to find the camp in deep sleep. I ate the supper they had left for me, and then lighted a fire a little way off, for it was very cold. Once again I heard the call of the bird which the others had heard the previous night. It was similar to that of the Laurus dominicanus, though this had never been met with here. I tried to find out where he was, and went on looking for him until two o'clock, when I gave it up, and went to sleep.
Tents were struck on March 8, horses saddled and packed, and the return journey begun. The weather was beautiful, the rivers low and easy to cross, so we made good progress, and reached Mr. Neave's station in the evening, where we received the warmest welcome from his wife and children. We ate a hearty supper, lingered for a while discussing our experiences, and then went to bed.
The following afternoon I went off on a four days' excursion on my own. The track, if one might call it such, led through a valley. I had a big load to carry, and on that account made slow progress. I had to wade through two streams, and then reached the old shepherds' hut. It was ten o'clock that night before I made a fire. My supper consisted of bread and tea. The night was stormy and cold, and I had to remain sitting by the fire all night, as I had only one blanket. As a result one-half of my body was roasted while the other was freezing cold.
Next morning I left Cæsar behind, as he had hurt his paws on the sharp rocks, and after a frugal break-fast started off along the sheep-track. Towards midday I came to a bare slope covered with great boulders, which prevented further climbing. Refusing to be baffled, I knotted a rope of flax ( Phormium tenax), tied it fast to a jutting piece of rock, unloaded my gun, and began to climb round. After I had slid about 12 yards down, the knot broke, and I fell. I was properly bruised, and lay unconscious for some time, though fortunately some bushes had helped to soften my fall. After I had recovered, I clambered onwards, negotiating several nasty rocks. It was four o'clock in the morning before I reached the summit of this glacier-surrounded peak.
The first streaks of dawn revealed to me a broad landscape with numerous waterfalls, five rivers, a lake, and bush-clad valleys. While I was climbing down again, a severe storm got up, and I had to creep on all fours in some places to save myself from being
I awoke in the morning stiff with cold. A cup of tea warmed me up, and I went along the river-bed into the bush, which seemed to possess little undergrowth and no feathered inhabitants. Several creeks flowed through this forest. I clambered up the side of a stony slope until my progress was completely blocked by a deep ravine filled with snow. I had to turn back then, and reached camp late.
At five o'clock next morning I started for the station, for my tucker was at an end. I got there about six p.m. On the 12th the weather was bad, a warm wind springing up with rain. The river was rapidly rising, and I wanted to start on the return journey, but Mr. Neave would not allow it. Next day, March 13, the river had risen so much that the three separate streams were united into one, and the roar could be heard from the house. Mr. Neave had the best horses saddled in a hurry, and we rode away in quick time. When we got to the river we could not locate the ford, for the water was over the banks and very muddy. We made two unsuccessful attempts to cross; the third time, however, we succeeded in swimming over, though we got thoroughly wet through.
I cantered alone over the grass-covered hillside. When I reached the top I saw Lake Coleridge and
On April 12 of this year I went to Pigeon Bay with a friend for a few days' hunting. We took the little coastal steamer from Lyttelton. Climbing Mount Fitzherbert, I managed to wound, with a borrowed percussion gun, a wild pig, whose tracks I followed to the water's edge, where another shot finished him off.
I waited in vain until July for my debtors to pay me what they owed. I could not delay my intended journey to the North Island any longer, so I asked Dr. von Haast to take over their collection for me, and fixed the day of departure with Captain Grundy.
On the 17th the schooner Torea weighed anchor and ran out of Lyttelton Harbour. The night was calm and the sea glowing with millions of phosphorescent fireflies. My bed was a hard bench, for the little ship was carrying a good cargo, and there was little free space available. Towards midnight we passed Cook Straits, when a gale sprang up from the south-east, and we saw nothing save mountains of water. Sails were reefed and all made fast against the storm, and two men were posted at the wheel.
By the 20th the sea had somewhat abated, and we found ourselves some 40 miles from the Kaipara River. We hoped to run in next day, but a vigorous nor' — easter drove us still farther out to sea. I had the greatest difficulty in keeping my feet, and once, had the skipper not been there to grab me by my legs, I should have been washed overboard. This accident persuaded him to confine me to the cabin, and I was told not to come on deck any more.
For four days more we tossed about on the open sea without daring to approach the land. At length we
July 28 found us making yet one more effort to run in, as conditions got better, but we were scarce among the sandbanks at the river-mouth when the whole sky blackened. The captain gave the order to put out to sea again, and high time it was, for almost as soon as we were clear of the sandbanks the weather became worse than ever. To add to our troubles, water, light, and coal were at an end, and the crew seemed utterly exhausted.
Captain Grundy, however, decided to make a last attempt that evening, and sent for me to come upon deck.
The spectacle was overpowering. Breakers were dashing like thunder over the many sandbanks, dotted here and there by the remains of stranded ships. The current, too, wound bewilderingly, making navigation exceptionally dangerous, particularly for a skipper unacquainted with the coast. A couple of men were posted forrard with axes to knock away the foreplanks, should that prove necessary to prevent us getting swamped crossing the bar.
Like a bird the Torea swept into the sheltered
I saw the remains of good-sized pas on the hill-tops, while in the valleys were kaingas, or open Maori villages, with one or two isolated farms. We anchored at Whakahara, where our goods were unloaded, and in the evening the captain and I supped with Mr. Clark, the station owner. The evening passed with tales of early settlement among the natives; for Clark, as one of the first settlers, had many yarns to tell about their customs and habits, wars and cannibalism.
Early next morning we sailed upstream to Kopuru, a little township consisting of a saw-mill, some workmen's houses, a store, and a boarding-house. Here were lying mighty kauri trunks up to 12 feet in diameter. A second large saw-mill lay farther up the river, belonging to the Union Sash and Door Company. There we loaded a cargo of timber, and I made the acquaintance of Mr. Harders, a Holsteiner, who greeted me like a brother.
On the 30th we went upstream again as far as Mangawara, where we came upon several native canoes laden with kauri gum, which they were bartering for food and clothing. The women were carrying the smaller children in mats slung across the back, but they took little notice of them, and sat quietly smoking their pipes. If a kiddie cried too much, a pipe was thrust in its mouth to keep it quiet. Of the adults, the men were tattooed on face, shoulders,
After unloading we continued on to Dargaville, an English settlement, where the brothers Mitchelson had large stores and ships. The Torea was one of these. Dargaville was the largest place in this district, with two hotels, bank, post office, English church, library, and so on. In the neighbourhood were mighty kauri forests, and a kainga where old Chief Parori was living. His face was so richly tattooed that scarce an inch of skin was visible.
By August 1 we were back at Aratapu, where we were to take on a load of timber for the south. The captain now gave the vessel over to the first mate, and he and I left by the little river-boat Zino for Helens-ville, which we reached the same evening. A narrow-gauge line took us on to Riverhead, where we got a steamer down the Waitamata River to Auckland.
Auckland was then a town of 44,000 inhabitants. On the many volcanic hills surrounding its beautiful harbour could still be seen the remains of ancient Maori pas, which now formed a peaceful pasture-ground for sheep and cattle. But once ùp there, I thought to myself, the bloodiest fights have been fought, and gruesome cannibalism indulged in.
We went to a little boarding-house, for a poor naturalist cannot afford to stop at first-class hotels. The walls of my rooms were filthy, and the jug and wash-basins, judging from the rings round them, had
Onehunga I found to be a respectably sized township inhabited principally by pensioners and seafaring people. Captain Grundy took me to his home, and introduced me to his wife and children, who fell on his neck for joy, for his long absence and the stormy weather had made them anxious.
On August 5 I settled some business with Mr. Cheeseman, Director of the Auckland Museum, and a few days later the captain and I went back to Kaipara. Reaching Kaihu at eleven o'clock at night, we stayed till early morning with a party of men who invited us to join them. Returning to the ship, we stole un-perceived into a ladies' cabin, where we made our-selves comfortable, until all of a sudden I was, roused by the sound of female voices. Hurriedly waking my companion, we slipped out noiselessly before any one had the chance of swooning at sight of us.
At Aratapu, Mr. Basit, a local farmer, took me to
Another excursion took me to Mr. Webb's farm along the river, where the farmer's son escorted me to another burial-ground — leaving me, however, to investigate alone, as the natives threaten every violator of the grave-tapu with death. Here in the first cave I found four complete skulls and many broken bones, but for all my pains could not succeed in piecing a complete skeleton together. Digging, I came across an ornament carved out of a leg-bone, on one side of which was represented a face, and on the other, the head of a lizard. In one hole I found the half-rotten remains of a stretcher made of manuka branches bound together with mats, with a pile of bones.
I made the acquaintance of the Maoris of the district, and Chief Pairama told me the tribe formerly living here had been people very good at working and cultivation, but who knew little about fighting. His forefathers had conquered them, eating those they killed, and enslaving the rest. After much bargaining, and at a good stiff price, I managed to get from him a magnificently carved prow (tanihu) of a canoe of the Uriohau tribe, which came out of the tauro). Altogether Kaipara and North Wairoa proved a good collection-ground for me.
On August 12 I went to the swamp to look for larks (katata), and also found the kauri grub (Helix busby), only to be seen in the kauri area. I got thoroughly wet through in so doing. Days later the steamer Zino took me to
Maoris and bush-fellers were making merry in the cabin on whisky and other liquor, which they drank like water. Things came to a free fight, a few black eyes resulting, before we reached
I found a haven with Mr. Wilson at his bush farm, which was only connected with the outside world by water. Two Maori villages, however, were within reach. On August 14, 1879, my host and I went up the Wairoa some distance, and plunged into the bush till we came to the remains of an old pa, now tapu. We had a good look round before entering, and found
It was a beautiful morning. Wild pigeons were flying high in the cloudless sky, somersaulting in the air and catching flies; parakeets were circling above the tree-tops in graceful curves, or sweeping down among the foliage; and I could also hear the bell-birds singing among the wild vines. I waited patiently, knowing well that with the coming of night my two Maoris would take shelter from the demons of darkness. I was not wrong. As the sun set, they got up and went into the village.
I then left my hiding-place and went carefully forward through the growing dusk. Following a ditch, my hand came into contact with some warm body,
Before me lay a fallen hut, the one-time palace of the great chief, Ngapui Tirorau, one of the most fearsome cannibals of North Wairoa. His son and successor, now an old man, was no longer living here, and the silence was impressive, only broken now and again by the grunt of a wild pig. I waited for a time, listening, and then lit my dark-lantern. Little night-owls came fluttering towards the light, stopping in the trees near by, and calling out their lonely 'Morepork!' Leaving Cæsar to watch, I crept into the fallen hut.
Within lay two rotted and carved coffins, and close by were cases of death-offerings, wooden clubs, stone axes, tuki-tuki, etc. I took the stone and wooden tools with me and went outside. From the hut itself I took the long middle post made of totara, on which was a very beautiful tekateka, or carved figure, representing the face of Chief Tirorau fully tattooed. I carefully dragged the post to the river and sawed off the head. So that I should leave no trace, I let the sawdust fall into the water. I then packed the head and the other things into my rucksack, put out the lantern, and turned off homewards.
In the darkness I lost my way, and suddenly dogs began to bark near me — I had stumbled by mistake on the Maori village! I drew back into the wood and
I did not sleep long, and directly I woke, at day-break, I went out and fetched in the things I had hidden, which I had conveyed to Captain Grundy for transport to. Christchurch.
At breakfast Mr. Wilson warned me I should have to leave the station, as the day before a Maori prophet had been along and had told him that it would go badly with me if I was seen again in the neighbourhood of the pa. This did not worry me much, and I went out hunting in the bush.
On my return I noticed a boat on the creek. At the farm I found the Maori chief and the prophet, to whom Wilson introduced me. Both of them displayed almost excessive signs of friendship, and said they were curious to examine my gun and the contents of my pack. Under different circumstances such curiosity would have been inconvenient, but on this occasion I was only too willing for them to look. In the tins I had poisonous spiders, centipedes, and lizards, of which the Maoris are greatly afraid. These specimen tins I now opened, carelessly letting their contents fall at the feet of the tohunga. The live creatures clung to the legs of the holy man, and full of fear and fright, both natives dropped their dignified
On the 20th I went up on the hills, where I had been told I should find a cave in which were some Maori bones; but although I searched all day backwards and forwards through the bush, I could not find it. Next day, a beautiful morning, I went to the Mangamohu hills. The deeper I penetrated into the bush, the quieter it became. The song of the birds ceased except for the gurgle of the wood-pigeon. I had to cut my way through mangimangi. Here the kauri trees were over 11 feet in diameter. On the 25th I visited the pa Tikotowaka, which lay in a bush clearing.
The day after. I explored the Mangakai hills until it began to rain, when I turned back and came upon a Maori village. The chief was friendly, and showed me over his house, built in European style, though he himself was living in the Maori hut alongside. The hospitable man did not want me to go away, but when he saw I was anxious to do so, he lent me a rain-cloak, or pureke, and sent some one along as guide. I remained in this neighbourhood until the 30th, and after thanking my good hosts, went downstream to Kaihu, whence I sent my collection to Mr. Harder's at Aratapu.
On September 1, Messrs. Michelson and I rowed up the Kaipara to Mangamare, an old fortress, of which only earth parapets and trenches remained. The-last fight at this pa was between Tirorau of the Ngapui (tribe) and the Paikeau of the Ngatiwhatua. Digging, we found a stone weapon, an old flint-Iock, and a powder-flask. Afterwards, leaving my companions, I struck off on the road leading westwards through the bush to the coast. Half-rotten tree-trunks everywhere gave evidence of the extent of a once magnificent kauri forest.
Before they are felled the undergrowth is usually burned, with the result that sometimes the whole tree catches fire and burns for weeks at a time, the rich sap blazing like a giant torch.
Along the coast I came to the dunes, and here I piched camp and roasted some tohiroa. This is a huge shellfish, which in these parts lives in colonies under the sand. After digging a quantity, I was surprised to miss some, until I found they were able to disappear at will by moistening the sand until it is wet enough to sink into, drawing their shells down after them. I found them tasty and appetising, reminding me of hard-boiled eggs.
The following few days were spent looking round
Next day I packed my cases, which Captain Grundy likewise took south, to be afterwards sent by Dr. von Haast to Vienna. Two days later I took up my quarters with Mr. Clark, whose farm lay on a hill overlooking the Kaipara, on the left bank, and on the 19th I made off northwards through thick and swampy bush. Another lovely morning! Tuis were piping loudly, nestors hopped among the tree-tops, and I could hear the grunting of wild pigs that dashed off through the mud at my approach.
I passed a few farms and the huts of some wood-fellers, and then for a stretch followed the log-track along which fallen trunks were hauled on rollers to the river. It was sad to see the slaughter of these monumental giants, though I found it interesting enough to watch the activities of the bushmen. When an area was felled, along would come the span of oxen accompanied by two or three drovers with
I remained in this forest till the 20th, finding many kauri grubs; while under the rata roots I also found the Aweta, or plant-caterpillar, which to change into a chrysalis creeps underground, and in many cases instead of becoming a moth becomes — a mushroom! This is caused by a spoor-bearing stem which sprouts up between head and first ring of the caterpillar's body. Here I also got a specimen of the long-tailed cuckoo.
I next set off from Whakahara to the west coast for a week, staying with the Clark family, and exploring everywhere; but eventually returning to Whakahara across the dunes, I was temporarily blinded by a sandstorm, from which poor Cæsar also suffered, and howled piteously. The waves were being whipped to fury by a western squall, and at the semi-sheltered spot where I decided to camp, I was forced to fix my tent very low and weigh it down well, so as hot to get blown away. This done, I gathered wood, made a fire, and ate my primitive supper. What with the storm and the noisy sea-fowl, I lay long awake.
Next morning I found a stranded cow-fish, whose carcass it took me four days to get clean, and five journeys with pack-horses to remove it to Whakahara.
I continued my searches in this district until November 6, and found beautiful stone implements in deserted pas. On the 15th, the Torea took my cases to Christ-church. Before saying farewell to the Clark family, I presented them with a large bird group that I had prepared as a small return for their kindness. Mr. Thomson, a cattle-dealer, now asked me to stay at his home at Paparoa, so we rode at a canter for Woodlarn, then through Matakohe, reaching Paparoa ere nightfall. This was a large township lying in a valley, with a Wesleyan chapel, school, stores, and farms. His place lay on a hill at the edge of the bush. The eldest of his little daughters welcomed us, while the oldest son took charge of the horses.
On the 17th I rambled as usual through the bush close to the house, and saw many long-tailed cuckoos, but found it difficult to get a specimen of this shy bird, which is somewhat larger than his European relative, and leads a similar gipsy life. He comes over from Australia in October, and roves through the bush hunting for insects. The female lays her egg in the same haphazard way as our own; and the young glutton, when full-fledged, takes but little notice of its foster-parents, being quite ready in February to leave its birthplace for ever.
In the wood I also heard the lusty piping of a brown gerygone), whose nest is as artistically made as that of our titmouse — like a bag, with a little Opening on one side so that rain cannot penetrate. When building, the male carries the material and the female builds the nest; and if not contented, they pull it to pieces and begin afresh. The local name for this bird is the 'Triller.'
Once, hearing the chirp of a chick in a tree, I climbed up and saw a young bronze cuckoo in the nest of one of these warblers, grown so big that he could not force his way out. In this bush I also cannot on many nests of pigeon, green-parrot, and tui. While in Paparoa I brought out of the remains of a very old pa, a number of fine old carved tools.
On November 18, horses were caught, and four of us set off for Manungaturoto. Here the track came to an end, and we picked our way slowly through the bush to the Waipu Gorge, where high cascades tumble over tall, gloomy crags among the tree-fern. I have never been in a country where civilisation and unspoiled Nature are such close neighbours as in New Zealand.
As we emerged from the bush, the broad Waipu plain lay before us, some 20 miles in circumference, stretching eastwards as far as the sea. The great number of fallen pas and deserted Maori camps showed it was once the home of a large tribe.
After a short rest in the township of Waipu, we Southern Cross, belonging to the Melanesian Society. He showed his weapons and, household gods of the South Sea islanders, and gave me one or two things to keep.
I styed at Paparoa until December 12, going on one occasion to a concert at the Matakohe school, where I was asked to give a mouth-organ number. The sports had begun when I got there. A Maori won one race and an Englishman another, while the farmers' wives were busy laying tea in the schoolhouse. The Maoris wore European dress, even to top hats and silk ribbons, while the girls knew well enough how to behave. But it was strange to remark the contrast between the quietly dressed English and the bright and sometimes grotesquely-clad natives. The Rev. Mr.
After this most of the Europeans went home, only a few remaining to watch the dancing — waltzes, galops, etc. It was a pleasant scene, and I found the Maori girls — in colourful dresses, with ribbons in their hair contrasting vividly with coppery skin and bright black locks — danced very well. Towards morning we saddled up and cantered back to Paparoa.
On New Year's Day 1880, I was again in Matakohe to attend a feast, given this time by the natives. My host's son, quite a young boy, offered to guide me as far as Oamaru, where I was told I should find skulls and weapons in the limestone-caves. I was even assured that one of these skulls possessed two horns! Unfortunately, after riding for a long time up and down the bush, he tearfully confessed he was completely lost, and, in addition, he became terribly tired and sleepy. It was evening before we found the right way. We spent the night at a farm, and next morning I sent my little guide back to Matakohe. I continued by the bush, finding a few birds, and collecting several kinds of helix. I discovered at last the skulls I was after, though the one with the two horns was missing!
Farther on I saw a big bush fire, and going towards it, was attacked by a number of Maori dogs. Maori gum-diggers were camped near by, and I was annoyed to learn that it was they who had set fire to the bush.
On January 7, I went to inspect the Maori school there. The classrooms were quite on the European model, the pupils' ages ranging from eight to twenty-six. I was astonished at the knowledge displayed by some of them — a credit to the quick understanding of the Maori. One eight-year-old boy had only been at school for a year, and could already read, write, and add as well as the average European boy of the third class.
After school, the building was decorated by the women and girls for a feast. The men slaughtered pigs, cattle, and sheep, while the women dug a big cooking-pit and plaited kits. European guests were received by two of the principal Maoris on the committee. They led us into the schoolhouse, which was decorated with palm, fern, and flowers. Maori girls in bright dresses served food in little baskets. After the meal a Maori played on a concertina, and song and dance followed, the Maoris doing all they could to entertain their pakeha guests.
The chief wanted me to stay with him, but that was impossible, and before I went we exchanged presents. He gave me a staff embossed with carved figures, and I gave him a tobacco-pipe. I then rode homewards.
I worked for a week chiselling fossils out of the hard
On January 14, I rode to Mr. Coates's cattle farm, where I spent an agreeable time until, after three days, some one came to say that Cæsar had run off from Mr. Avon, the gentleman with whom I had left him; so I saddled up at once and rode back to Matakohe. I asked at all the places I passed, and found Cæsar had visited them all, but had refused food on finding that I was not there. He had last been seen swimming across the river in the direction of Paparoa.
To my relief I found him lying by the tent I had left behind there. His joy at seeing me passed all bounds. He had eaten nothing until he got to Paparoa, and then had only taken what some children had given him.
On the 19th, young
Next morning I was awakened by barking. The village dogs had cornered a big boar, and were unable to master it. I sent Cæsar out, and he seized it by the ear and held on till it was captured.
On the 25th I took leave of my kind host, who gave me a really valuable present — the skin of the extinct Canus maori). This dog, yellow-red in colour, had pointed ears, bushy tail, and was about the size of a spaniel.
It is one of the peculiarities of New Zealand that these islands, possessed almost no land mammals before the arrival of Captain Cook. In primeval times woods and mountains swarmed with many kinds of giant birds, and to-day in parts of the islands still untouched by civilization there is still a numerous specialised bird-world. But against this we only find three representatives of the mammal tribe in the country, and if we follow the Maori legend, two of these three were brought here from the legendary home of the Maori, 'Hawaiki.' The only original New Zealand mammal is a little bat, called pekapeka by the Maoris. The two others are the Maori dog and the Maori rat (Mus maori).
The dog, which was already extinct at the time of my stay in New Zealand, was rather like the Australian dingo, having a reddish hide, and being a confirmed robber. Its flesh and skin were highly prized by the Maoris, and it was assiduously hunted by them, but its complete extinction was finally achieved by European invaders, unrivalled in this métier.
Once the Maori rat was to be found everywhere, but now I came across it in but few places. The Maoris regarded it as a great delicacy, because it is rich in fat, and they used to hunt and trap it systematically. Those parasites of the European invasion, rats, cats, and so on, completed its destruction.
I rode to the farm of my host's relative, Mr. Thomas
One day, while camping at Waikomite Point, I noticed that some one had been in the tent during my absence, so on the following morning I left Cæsar behind. Returning that evening, he did not come to meet me as usual, and when I got to camp I found him barking under a tree at a strange Maori, whom I cross-examined. I got hold of the dog, and the Maori climbed down, but it was the last I saw of my solitary visitor.
On March 13, I said good-bye for the last time to my hosts, the Coates, and rode away from the district. The track took me past Woodlarn to Whakahara, so I was able to look up friends in these places. At Whakahara the young Clarks invited me to go for a sail up the Kaipara River in their yacht. This we did on the 16th, and while resting on the bank of the stream we found some fine stone tools and the carved parts of a canoe. After, I went on alone to Auckland, and found the harbour looking quite busy.
After a few days there, I went off to the Waitakerei Mountains to see Mr. Worsley, an old colonist who was fond of hunting kiwi: In early days he had been a gold-digger in Australia, but for some years now
I was seldom at home, for if I chanced to hear the cry of a kiwi during the night, the next day saw me out on his track along the dark, dank gorges and valleys. I often found them sleeping during the day, head buried under feathers. The slightest noise would wake them, and away they would run, to hide them-selves in the nearest burrow. I studied their habits, got a specimen or two, and returned to Auckland, where the Director of the Museum came to ask me to arrange the zoological section. As there were no funds in hand at the time, he made an appeal to the public, and a few hundred pounds were quickly subscribed. I received a most satisfactory fee for my work, and was at it from dawn to dark.
On March 20, I bought a horse, a beautiful chestnut three-year-old, still unbroken, and after taming him for a few days, I rode to Henderson's Mill to see the waterfall. On my way I passed the place where a few stout pioneers of civilisation lay buried in the silence of the bush, under little moulds of fern-covered earth. Round their graves the forest birds were singing their eternal lullaby. Other days I spent visiting the little islands that lie at the approach to Auckland Harbour. Afterwards I paid a visit to the Thames goldfield. The town of Thames (Graharhstown) lies on the right bank of the Thames River in fine surroundings. The gold-mines lay some way back.
Many men have struck it lucky here; others have lost their last penny. The fateful metal — the biggest tyrant of all — plays here with the greed of men, alluring and destroying them. During the few years before I came, the gold yield had increased, machinery had been improved, quartz crushers renewed, and furnaces reinstalled, so that by up-to-date methods very little gold was lost.
A few of the mines went down 750 feet, and I was lowered in a basket into one of the galleries to see the veins of quartz with their points of gold glittering in the lamplight. On Saturday things got busy at the bank. On that day each gold-digger brought along his gold in a bag. A chemist examined and weighed it before payment was made. The gold was then melted into bars and sent to England.
From the Thames a romantic bush-track leads some 30 miles to Coromandel, a second gold district, lying near the sea. The picturesque little town has a roomy harbour, protected by several little islands, and the gold-fields lie up among the surrounding hills.
In the Tokatea Range I got to know two Austrian gold-diggers who, by hard work, had already got together a fair-sized sum. I stayed with them as long as I remained in this part of the world, and we became firm friends. They did all they could to make my stay comfortable.
In this district I found the rare New Zealand frog (pokopoko) both in the creeks and deep down in the mines. Sometimes I took a little boat and rowed out
These islands at different times of the year swarm with fowl, and in this month of September, on the three larger and three smaller islands which make up Broken Islands, I found literally no single square yard of ground that was not covered with eggs. Side by side they lay in flat nests, roughly strung together, of seaweed and twigs. The broody fowl would not run away at my approach, but sat snapping their beaks at me. In some nests there were little downy young which the old birds were feeding. The whole islands were white with eggs and birds, and the smell of the excrement was fearsome.
The sea here must be very rich in fish to feed such numerous colonies. I found it interesting to watch the gannets fishing. They would circle in the air high over the water, and the instant they saw a fish would dart into the sea like an arrow, so that the water splashed white with the force of the dive.
I went back to Auckland at the end of April, and paid a visit to the Moro-tiro Islands in company with General Hallam and Messrs. Cheeseman, Bond, and Crombes. We left Auckland in a small boat, and went to Whangarei Head. There we sought out the well-known boatman, 'Leod,' who owned a farm at this beautiful resort. Next day the fishermen had their boats ready, and in a thoroughly good humour we made for the group, which lay 12 miles out. We landed in a bay on the west side of the largest island, and when the tents were up, we cooked a good supper
As my funds were at a low ebb, I had to think about busying myself with something more profitable, so I returned to Auckland and saw Director Cheeseman at the Museum. He asked me to continue on the zoological section, which kept me going for some time, and I also undertook some private commissions. In October I arranged an exhibition at the Museum. By this time I found myself in funds again, and ready for a new enterprise.
'The instinct of caution must be strongly developed in this bird, to manifest itself thus in the most secluded part of a lonely island, where probably the face of man had never appeared before. My own private collection was deficient till I induced Reischek, in 1884, to make another visit to the Little Barrier in quest of it.' — Birds of New Zealand, vol. i. 2nd edition).
You may be surprised that any man, instead of laying up a store for after-years, and devoting himself to wife and family, should go running after a rare bird that nobody had seen for years, and give up all his hardly gotten gains to such a purpose. But from the day I saw the first stuffed specimen of the Pogonornis cineta in Christchurch Museum, and learnt from Sir Julius von Haast that a few examples were still said to live in the virgin bush of one of the most mountainous islands of the Hauraki Gulf, I resolved to seek him out, or die in the attempt.
I was to find I needed all the energy and perseverance I could muster before I was able to locate this practically unknown creature, this bird of wonder, the ti-ora of the Maori. At last, after months and months of patient search, after traversing every part of this rugged island, and climbing up and down ranges 2000 feet above the level of the sea, in the deep and silent
I started for Little Barrier — as the colonial calls Hauturu — in October 1880, accompanied by my friend, Mr. E. Firth. We left Auckland by the schooner Rangatira, belonging to Chief Tenatahi, who piloted it himself. We struck a severe storm off Kawau, which tossed our little vessel up and down like a nutshell, and when towards evening we got near Hauturu, it was to find landing impossible on account of the breakers. We therefore put into Little Omaha to wait for better weather, and remained there two days, the natives amusing themselves diving for lobsters, which are very numerous here. Many a hand and face was scratched in the process, but that did not prevent further diving.
The third day we steered for the north-west of the island, where we effected a landing after one or two vain attempts. Bedding and stores were unloaded at a deserted native hut not far from the shore, and then the cutter sailed away before night came on. I spread my blankets out on the floor and tried to sleep, but a European goblin, which had established itself in numbers, gave me no rest. The camp was swarming with fleas! There was nothing for it but to turn out into the open till next morning, when I gave the place a thorough clean out.
Then my usual trail-blazing began. The island was precipitous and overgrown with luxurious bush, consisting principally of giant kauri trees (Dammara)
I observed many kinds of birds, but the ti-ora was not one of them. Alas! it was neither to be seen nor heard: and after several weeks of fruitless search I gave it up for the time being. It was through the western and southwestern parts of the island that I searched. I intended penetrating into the centre, " but the natives told me that it was impossible to get overland to the east coast on account of the many precipices, and that the sea was too rough to permit of my landing on that side; so I returned to Auckland with the intention of resuming the search at another time.
In May, 1882, I sent Dobson, my assistant, to Hauturu for the purpose of repairing old huts and building new ones, taking provisions for a prolonged mountain expedition, my intention being to follow him in June. I did indeed leave Auckland that month Water Lily, but the weather proved so boisterous that after two attempts to land, and five days battering on the open sea, we had to give it up.
The following month I made another attempt on the Rangatira, but with no better success, though on this occasion we only stuck it out for three days; so I put off my trip until October, on the 15th of which month I really did succeed in landing. Dobson was waiting for me on the rocks, and, after packing all my kit into a little boat, we towed her round to the southeast side. Here we carried our things ashore and dragged the boat up, as we thought, well out of the sea's reach.
That night we camped at the foot of a precipice, ate our primitive supper of ship's-biscuits and water, and lay down to rest. A glorious night arched over our solitude. A grey mist crept silently over, the sea's face, and above our heads millions of stars came out, twinkling like diamonds in a dark-blue sky. The roar of the breakers surrounded us like a mighty organ, playing the lullaby of an unspoiled world.
In this primeval paradise I felt the windows of my soul were opened, Nature's wonderful mantle lay spread out before me; as never before I realised the spiritual kinship between all living things, the connection and coherence of the manifold works of God. That night, lying there, I experienced a sense of shame, which those who swear by civilisation will certainly fail to understand, that civilised man can be the worst
Before dawn we commenced the formidable ascent. To give some idea of the difficulty of climbing here, I had to pull my dog — an experienced Alpine climber — up after me with a rope, then our gear and provisions, and finally Dobson. From the top we struck off valleywards, and up and down again, over two ranges, each above 2000 feet high, till towards evening we arrived at an old nikau whare, which my friend had previously built, at the foot of the last range.
It was dark before we finished mending the roof and preparing for a start the next day. On the morning of the 23rd, I first heard the whistle of the ti-ora. I was unable, however, to get a glimpse of it; and though we cut tracks to, the tops of most of the main ranges, and afterwards frequently heard the birds, we could never see them. Later experience taught me that their shrill whistle is very deceptive, and the sound travels a long distance.
I then shifted my quarters farther towards the interior; and on the 25th, while again wielding a slasher, my attention was arrested by the call of my dog at a short distance. On going towards him, I saw a male ti-ora hopping about in a very excited manner
After this, though constantly exploring, I never saw another specimen till November 7, yet frequently heard them. Early that morning we travelled northwest to the top of a high, narrow range of precipices, overgrown with short, thick scrub and manga-manga, which made it so dense that I had to cut the way with my hunting-knife.
This place I found a favourite resort of these birds — which had cost me so much time, labour, and patience — for it had a warm aspect, exposed to the sun. There I saw a male and a female, the latter for the first time; and on the following day I saw a male at the same place. On going over a range, I heard another. Subsequently I went round it, and saw male and female near a nest, and endeavoured to observe them unnoticed, but they quickly saw me, and in the act of escaping I shot them. I then went and examined the nest, which was only half finished, built of very small branches, roots, and fine native grass, and lined with hairy substance off the fronds of the punga.
When our provisions were nearly exhausted, we made our way down to the ocean, only to find our boat was missing. After a long search we spotted bits of broken planks and the rudder among the rocks. In spite of the high position we had dragged it to,
There was nothing for it now but to clamber along the wild coast, humping our packs. In this way we managed after dark to reach the native settlement, where we stayed for a week, and then returned to Auckland by the Rangatira.
In 1883, summer being well under way, I again went to Hauturu, and had even more success in observing the ti-ora. In December of that year, I once more took possession of my little hut in the centre of the island, and setting out one rainy morn, I observed a pair of adults with three young birds. On the male noticing me, he uttered a shrill whistle, and the female immediately hid amongst the fern for a considerable time. I went partly at the request of According to Buller, only two European museums possessed specimens of the Pogonornis. Reischek gave some fine specimens to the Vienna Imperial Museum, along with the rest of his collection.—Ed.
To my great joy I found this rare bird had increased since my last visit, which I put down to the fact that I had on that occasion shot a number of wild cats and the older male birds. I was able to watch whole families of them, and discovered that the young birds possess an intermediate plumage, especially noticeable in the males. I have only once seen these birds sitting still, and that was near the nest. They appear always on the move, carrying their heads proudly, their
They feed on small berries and insects, and suck the honey from the native wild flowers and trees, as many of the latter exude honey during the night. They are not strong on the wing, but very active in hopping and climbing, which enables them quickly to escape from sight.
The plumage of the male is as follows: Head and neck, shining velvet black, with a few long silvery-white ear-feathers; shoulders, golden yellow; upper secondary, white, with brownish-black points, and a slight splash of white under the wing covers; wings and tail, brownish black, each feather edged on the outer side with olive green; tail cover, greenish tinge, and a yellow band round the breast; abdomen, greyish brown; bill, black; eyes, dark brown; feet, light brown. The female is a little smaller, of olive brown colour on the top of the head, back, wing, and tail; ear feathers hardly perceptible, and a few other differences I won't mention. So far as I know, the plumage of the young, which differs from the adult bird, has never been described.
On December 16 I climbed to the topmost peak of the island, where a heavy thunderstorm surprised me. Flash followed flash, and the thunder rolled formidably below me through the ravines, which soon became raging torrents, through which I had to
Close to the hut I heard two miro call, and going outside I found them anxiously hopping about on a manuka clump. I approached, and discovered their water-logged nest containing three eggs.
On the 19th I got my collection together, and made for the Maori settlement, where Chief Tenatahi related to me how he had lost his cutter Rangatira, with which he had previously won several races at Auckland Regatta. He had sailed to Catherine Bay to extract blubber from a whale which the natives had caught, and had been overtaken by a storm while at anchor there. In trying to run out, the anchor got wedged, and he and the crew had to jump overboard to save their lives, while their boat was battered to pieces on the rocks.
Tenatahi, his wife Rahni, two men, and a boy then set off in a whaling-boat for Tiharea, their Hauturu settlement, but some miles off the Great Barrier another storm came on. The boat turned turtle, and they lost an oar, whereupon Tenatahi ordered the men to keep her steady while he righted her, and baled her out. Rahni, who was a good swimmer, jumped in and swam after the oar, but by the time she brought it back, one of the men had been washed away. They had a frightful job to get the second man and the boy back into the boat, and the latter died soon after from exposure and cold. The man, too, would have died if they had not made him row for all he was worth to get warm.
Three times after this the boat filled with water, and but for Rahni's skill and courage all would have been up. She was fourteen hours in the water without food or drink, battling with the waves, and when they finally reached the shore, was so exhausted that she could not move a foot. Rahni, I may say, is 5 feet 10 inches tall, and the possessor of a fine if muscular figure.
I paid my last visit to Hauturu on April 8, 1885, to procure specimens for the use of New Zealand museums. I found my old hut had been burnt down by Maori youngsters, so I went to live at their flea-infested settlement. In spite of not feeling too well, I pursued my observations unceasingly.
Again in the centre of the island I was successful in observing a pair feed their young (two males and a female) which must have been a late brood. I fear these very rare birds will soon disappear, even from these lonely depths of the bush where human beings had never hitherto penetrated, largely owing to wild cats, which have become very numerous and commit great havoc among them, and also the sparrow-hawk (Hieracidea nova-zealandiæ) and the little Morepork owl, in whose crops I have often found their remains.
I returned to Auckland in the middle of May; but before I left, Tenatahi, the owner of the island, invited me to a ball in the native runanga. All the inhabitants of the island were present, mostly Maoris, with two Portuguese and two white girls to represent the white race. Dance music was provided by a Maori playing
After I had returned to Auckland by the Rangatira at the end of my first Hauturu expedition (of October 1880) I found many new commissions awaiting me. In the middle of the following November I took the coast steamer, Argus, to Whangarei Head, where I quartered myself on Mr. Leod. On the 18th an open boat was put in repair, and we sailed to the mountainous island of Taranga, nearly four miles south of the Moro-tiri group. It possessed no harbour of any kind, while cliffs and breakers made it a difficult place to land.
Leod now returned, leaving me alone with Cæsar on the bird-inhabited isle. To my joy I discovered the brown-backed starling which I had searched for in vain on the North Island mainland, and which I had been after since 1877. I badly wanted to complete my observations of this bird, begun some years before in the Teremakau Mountains and in the bush surrounding Lake Brunner in the South Island.
There I had found two different species, one mottled brown, and the other velvet-black with brown back and citron-yellow patches. I satisfied myself that both were fully grown birds, and felt certain while skinning them that I had found a new species. Not so the experts of Christchurch, however, who held the smaller starling to be the young stage of the latter
On the 22nd I climbed the southern slope in order to reach the plateau. I found a mottled starling's nest with eggs, and in the evening returned to camp, fully expecting that Leod would have come back to fetch me, as arranged. I waited on the beach until it grew dark, but the boat did not come. Next day I remained at the hut, and again waited in vain. My stores were almost exhausted, and only oily sea-birds offered themselves as a substitute.
Early on the 24th I climbed up once more from the south. To my surprise I found between the rocks little Alp-parrakeets, which I had formerly seen in the Southern Alps but had not found anywhere in the North Island. Even in the literature of the subject, their occurrence here had never been noted before. Full of joy, I took no heed of the heavy rain, which made the climb up the steep hillside extremely difficult. Meanwhile a thick mist descended on me, and I could no longer see my way.
In trying to climb over a steep ledge, I slipped, and slid downwards like a flash. I pulled up on the edge of a cliff overhanging the sea, with the strap of my gun caught in a bush, leaving me suspended in an appalling position between heaven and sea. The trigger of my gun had somehow become fully cocked, and the barrel was tightly pressed against my chest. I had no choice, and so seized hold of a root, and swung myself on to a projecting rock, while my gun went off, and the ball whistled close past my chest.
I discharged the second barrel, and began to climb round the cliffs, but was so exhausted that I had another fall, and this time lost consciousness. When I came to, the waves were washing over me. With hands and feet torn and bleeding, I dragged myself on, until, half fainting, I reached my hut towards midnight. The boat was not yet there.
The weather became worse and worse. With the roar of thunder the breakers dashed themselves against the rocks. Next morning the pain in my back was so great that I could not stand upright. As I had no one but Cæsar with me, I had to creep on all fours to a spring to fetch water. For the following days I could only crawl, and I did not get a wink of sleep for pain. Cæsar would howl and run out every few minutes to look over, the sea, hoping to bring a boat to my assistance. When, on the fifth day, I could at last stand upright, Cæsar could hardly contain his excitement. He sprang around me and barked himself hoarse for joy, for he had seen the boat. When the skipper arrived, he excused himself for not having reached me earlier on account of the storm. We now started off back to Whangarei Head, where I speedily recovered, and vowed I would return to Taranga on the next opportunity.
On December 6, I sailed with Leod and
The Moro-tiri group consists of three greater and
On the following evening our boatman came back with a load of fish which he had caught among the islands.
On December 8 I found a peculiarity of these islands — a tree which, so the botanists assured me, was only to be found here. It is some 12 feet high, has leaves some 12 inches long, and is of a dark green colour. It is called the 'broadleaf' tree by the colonists. The remaining vegetation is similar to that of the surrounding islands, principally manuka and pohu-takawa, which the colonists call Christmas tree, since it is ablaze with red blossom at that time.
The fauna is abundant, there being twenty different kinds of birds. I discovered here a new species of puffin, which, so far as I know, has not been previously recorded from New Zealand, and which I named Puffinus assimilis. Having amassed the facts, I placed them before the local experts, who agreed with me that this was a new species to New Zealand. I thus had the honour to add one more to the ornithology of this country, raising the number to 177.
A remarkable fact was that I found this bird living in burrows in common with the Tuatara, the rare and singular fringe-back lizard, and the last remaining offspring of the Saurians. I usually found him in the first chamber from the entrance, and the bird in the second. These two dissimilar companions live together in harmony, and mutually protect their young, as I had reason to remember, suffering bodily as a result of their knightly friendship.
Cæsar announced the discovery of one of their holes with a bark. Plunging in my hand, I felt the bird inside, but was unable to catch hold of it. I therefore took off my coat to enable me to reach farther in, and was groping about when something bit on to my thumb and hung on to it. With my free hand I got out my sheath-knife, and widened the hole, and when I was able to draw out my trapped hand, it was to see a big lizard hanging to my thumb. He only let go when I caught him by the neck.
Inside I found, to the left, the petrel sitting on one egg in a hollow strewn with leaves and grass, and to the right, the lizard's nest, I discovered, several more such holes, and everywhere was the same arrangement.
The lizards pass the whole day in their holes, and only come out in the evening to hunt for insects. While doing this, they utter croaking noises similar to those of a frog. As the colour of their skin matches that of their surroundings, they are only to be found with difficulty. On discovery, they do not slip away like other lizards, but stay quite still. Only if one happens to step close to them, they quickly dart into a hole,
On all the larger islands they live principally on insectivorous foods, such as beetles, grubs, wetas, grasshoppers, flies, etc., which I found on dissecting. I think where such food — which they prefer even in confinement — is plentiful, they will not prey on birds.
But on my visit to Karewa Island, at the beginning of 1885, I saw many young birds with their heads off, and I followed one of these lizards with a bird of considerable size in its mouth, which tried to escape in a burrow, but got stuck at the entrance. They catch the bird by its head, and then chew until it is devoured. My opinion is that, as this island is small, and these lizards so numerous, this is the reason they prey upon birds.
As for the puffins (Puffinus brevicardus) they live with here, in the daytime only single specimens and their young remain on the island, but in the evening we saw flocks of thousands circling round the camp. They seemed rather surprised to find a solitary habitation occupied. After sunset they settled on the ground, in some places so thickly that one could hardly walk without treading on them; instead of going out of the way, they defended themselves by biting. They even came into our tent, and we were obliged to throw them out and shut it up; then they burrowed in underneath.
When preparing tea, one of us had to watch and keep them off the fire, and, when frying fish, they actually walked into the frying-pan. The variety of their vocal powers was most amazing, and when they
On December 10, the boatman informed me that we should nave to leave these islands, as bad weather was expected. I left unwillingly, for time had been all too short.
Here at dawn the bell-birds had waked me with their song, and again towards evening they would lift up their voices in praise of their Creator. After them the morning calls of the petrels would begin. They would come out of their holes and wheel over the sea in a great flock, searching for food. Here and there on the waves, as darkness came on, one could espy the gleaming white breasts of the little penguins. At last they would come ashore, and seat themselves like little goblins, croaking and crying to one another until the approach of dawn, as though specially created for that purpose.
On December 14, I climbed the Manaia, a cliff resembling a human figure, which is visible from far away as the landmark to Whangarei Bay. A Maori fable recounts that here a chief was turned to stone. From the summit of the rock I got one of those magnificent panoramic views which abound in New Zealand. To the south-west lay the long-stretching isthmus; to the east was the line of distant bush; westwards were
On December 16, 1880, we sailed away to the Guano Island, a little islet lying nearly a mile north-west of Bream Head. The only possible chance of landing was to jump from a boat on to a hanging ledge. The island is covered with guano from the many sea-birds that brood there, and on this soil the New Zealand flax ( Phormium tenax) thrives luxuriantly. I found here many kinds of birds and a flat-headed lizard (
In the evening I left the island and went back to Whangarei. The following day I went on foot over-land to Waikaraka, north-west of Whangarei. On some of the hills I still found walls and trenches, also the remains of carvings representing human figures, tattooed faces, etc. Here, so a farmer told me, there had been found a carving representing a woman with a lizard on her back. Unfortunately, this interesting figure had been broken up and burnt. I found two coffins, a few stone implements, and some Maori bones in the hollow of trees. This district had at one time been thickly populated by the natives, but they had been driven away by the progress of civilisation.
It was already evening when I noticed some huts on a hill covered with grass and surrounded with a fence. The entry was barred. I called. A few wild curs greeted me with yelps. Then I noticed heads peering out at me through openings below the roof. They quickly disappeared again, and soon after out came a girl, dressed like a man, and asked me what I wanted. She drove away the dogs and let me in.
I was surprised when an old gentleman in a high, stiff white collar and patent-leather shoes got up to greet me. He welcomed me in broken English, and led me into the bare but neatly arranged room. He showed me his weapons, chiefly Indian, and told me that he had brought them from India, where he had served in the army. He helped me to wine and bread, and invited me to stay the night. I declined, however, for I wanted to push on to Waikaraka. So he told one of his daughters to go with me and see me on the right track.
A farmer told me afterwards that the people of the neighbourhood were all shy of going near this house. The Indian kept very wild dogs so that nobody should molest his daughters; he didn't hesitate either about using his weapons. But I got a glimpse of the old fellow from quite the opposite point of view, as a quiet and trustworthy man; and I could not help but admire his daughters, who, dressed like men, with rifle on back and sheath-knife in belt, were living such an amazonian life: The girls led me as far as the track, and then turned back.
It was dark when I reached Edwards' Farm, where
During my absence he had placed my room at the disposal of an English lady. Towards midnight loud shrieks were heard issuing from my room. Leod and all the other inhabitants of the house, quickly arming themselves with guns, pistols, whips, brooms, or whatever else happened to be handy, rushed in, to finds the lady standing shuddering in her nightdress, staring, rigid with fright, at the bed. When the 'rescuers' turned their eyes towards it, they saw, sitting in a calm, philosophical attitude on the pillow … a lizard! One of the geckos I had captured on Guano Island had somehow got out of its cage.
When the lady recovered, she vowed she would not remain an instant longer in a room which harboured such frightful beasts, and in which, from under the bed, cannibals' skulls lay grinning up at her. Leod had to give up his room to her before she was pacified.
Returning to Auckland, I spent Christmas with a colonial family I had got to know. I set to work again, for my purse was sadly depleted; but as soon as I had earned enough, I turned my back for a short time on the civilised world.
On March 25, I came back to Auckland, and worked away to get together fresh funds; In August I interrupted these activities, and went for a few weeks to the Kaipara district. There I learned what I could of Maori, and collected ethnographical objects. At the
Early in 1882, Kaar, the Auckland boat-builder, built me a boat on the model of a Swedish dinghy. When my friends saw me off in it, they shouted, 'Good luck, old man. If you go to sea in that wash-tub you'll never come back.' However, I knew how seaworthy she was, and Dobson and I set off quite happily.
Early that year we spent a pleasant time in
I paid Sir George a visit, and he gave me permission to hunt on the island. Opossums and wallabies had
A few days later I came on Cæsar at grips with another wallaby which had seized him by the upper lip and was hammering him with its feet. It let go when I caught it by the tail, and sprang at me, but I laid it out with the stock of my gun, which unfortunately got broken.
We left Kawau on January 10, and had to battle with a stiff breeze. Eventually we made Takahu Point Reef, and I reckoned we ought to put in to Omahu Bay for shelter. My mate, however, urged that we should make for Taranga Island, and I finally consented, though somewhat doubtful of success. As it happened, we had to spend the night on the open sea,
We reached Taranga late next evening, but again could not land, and had to anchor close in. About midnight I noticed a strong phosphorescent light in the water close by, and soon made out the fin of a big shark, at least 12 feet long. I woke my assistant, and told him to throw a wallaby overboard, and as soon as he had done so, the shark disappeared.
It took us all next day to land our possessions and drag the boat above high-water mark, after which we sat down to a supper of wallaby steak. My companion was soon-snoring, but I could not sleep, and was finally roused by a frightful crash near by. The storm had brought down a large tree trunk, which had fallen across our boat.
Next day I clambered up through the very steep bush. I shot a tieke, and was pleased to notice that this starling had increased in numbers since my earlier visit in 1880. Climbing ever higher, through dense undergrowth, I heard a bird cry, and creeping quietly near, saw five saddle-backs (Creadion carunculatus) — two parent birds and three young that had just left the nest. The young were of the same colour as the old, only rather duller, and with scarce visible patches. I shot them in order to have further proof of the two varieties of New Zealand starling, the existence of which I had first established in 1877, on my visit to Westland.
On the 15th I saw some white-necked shag; and
The south wind increased in viciousness till the breakers reached our boat, and we had to tug her higher, so that our hands were torn and our strength seemed at an end. The ground became so slippery that a foothold was impossible. I now began to understand how it was we had lost our first boat on Hauturu. This one we had tugged six feet above spring tide, and yet the waves reached her during the storm.
Rain fell in torrents, battering down our hut, and we had to cart our stores — those that were not ruined to the protection of the boat, where we also moved our bedding after a swollen creek had invaded our sleeping quarters. With great pains we made a roof of nikau palms, for the storm had carried off our one and only tent fly. The swollen streams were so full of sediment that we had to strain our drinking-water through a cloth.
By this time, what with the weather and bad food, we both felt properly worn out. On February 21, I went out to shoot a pigeon for a stew. The storm had left a trail of broken branches, and the ground was so steep and slippery that I could only move by clutching at one tree after another. Suddenly Cæsar pointed, and I looked up to see a pigeon sitting on a high branch, which I shot.
In climbing farther upwards, I slithered against a
I was sufficiently recovered by the 26th to get about again, and two days later we launched our boat and set sail. In hauling it in, however, the anchor got caught on the rocks, and Dobson had to dive in and recover it, which he did successfully, but was chased back by an inquisitive shark, into which I put a round, of shot.
We had no time to ballast, as the wind got terrifically strong, and with it roaring behind us, we made the 20 miles to Whangarei Head in one and a half hours. Passing Bream Head we anchored in Aubery Bay, where I paid Mr. Aubery a visit. On March 2, we sailed to the fine little town of Whangarei, accompanied by Miss Aubery and Miss Gibbs, and after having tea with Mrs. Gibbs, I went along and had a yarn with Mr. Thomson, an old colonist whose acquaintance I had made some time before. On the 4th, the Aubery family took me a ride to Robinson's Farm at White-sand, on the east coast, and the following day Dobson
We returned on the 9th, passing Limestone Island, and anchoring at Waikaraka in Edwards Bay, where Mr. Edwards took care of us. I found a couple of Maori stone axes in Smugglers Gove, but coming out we met a whirlwind which tore our sail to shreds and snapped the bowsprit like a match, so we had to row to Aubery Bay.
Here Captain Cacops of the Hawk took me on a cruise with him to the uninhabited Moko-hinou Islands, some 37 miles north-eastward, where there is a lighthouse. That same evening we put in to Port Fitzroy in the Great Barrier Island. It was St. Patrick's Day, and the Irish farmers were celebrating.
I was back with Dobson on the 18th, when we left in our boat for Paroa Bay. Here I borrowed a dinghy and rowed 8 miles up the Padom River as far as Gay's sawmill, where I stayed the night. Next day I set to with pick and shovel on some old camp sites, and found round cooking-stones, bones of Maoris, seal, rats, moa, kiwi, weka, tuatara, moa egg-shells, and even a complete moa's egg covered with cracks. Unfortunately, when I dug round it and tried to roll it into my handkerchief, it fell to pieces.
Under the grass of these east coast dunes I found the little poisonous black spider known as the' katipo. The Maoris made off when they saw me trying to catch it. On the 20th I went back, via Paroa, to Whan-garei, where I stayed overnight with Mr. Aubery,
A day or two later we said good-bye to the Auberys, and sailed for the Moro-tiri Islands, but in the middle of landing operations the boat sprang a leak, and had to be dug out after the tide had ebbed. We built a little hut, and I explored the island for the next six days. The boat got swamped again on our return voyage, and the following morning, when we went to inspect it, we found only the mast above water, so we took it along to Mr. Edwards for repair.
On the 14th, going along the Taohururu, we got stuck in the bush. Dobson undressed to swim across and fetch a canoe from the opposite bank. No sooner had he done so, than we were surprised by shouts of laughter from a clump of flax bushes, where a troop of Maori boys and maidens had hidden themselves to watch us. I promised them tobacco if they would bring us a canoe, which they did before Dobson had had time to dress.
From here I went on alone towards North Cape, finding the traces of many pas, but few inhabitants, of the Ngapui tribe, all clad in European fashion, and engaged in agriculture and fishing. Four miles away was the Waitangi River, which once played such a significant part in New Zealand history. I explored this coast-line for another month, observing the
Thereafter followed Museum work, enlivened by a fourteen days' expedition to Pokekohe and a ride of some days through the Waitakereis during the kiwi breeding season.
A Fortunate accident made it possible for me to enter the King Country, the heart of Maoriland. After the Maori wars, King Tawhiao had left Kuiti and settled in Hikurangi, a little village from which, owing to its high situation, one could see over the country far and wide, from east coast to west, and northwards as far as Rangitoto, guardian of Auckland Harbour.
That far-seeing statesman and former Governor, Sir George Grey, was the first to undertake a visit to the hostile camp to try and influence Tawhiao and his Hauhaus to come to a more friendly understanding with the European. This was in 1878, the year after I arrived in New Zealand. He succeeded so well that, in the summer of 1882, Tawhiao accepted an invitation from the Mayor to visit Auckland, and went there with a large following. He was received with great respect, and festivities were held to celebrate the event.
I took advantage of this opportunity to make the acquaintance of Tawhiao. A friend of mine,
This journey to the boundary town of Alexandra White man.pakeha.
To me it was as though I were making a journey into the dim, receding past. From the noise and the banal affairs of a European town, Man, the ancestor of the human race, was leading me back to an age of simplicity and artless communion with God and Nature. Before the inviolate doors of holy Maoriland, hitherto firmly closed, were opened to me, I wanted to learn all I could of her moving past and of the childlike soul of her people.
The story of New Zealand cannot be traced far back. Writing was unknown to the Maoris, and their past is thus enveloped in the mist of legend, only put down on paper since the comparatively recent advent of the pakeha.
The first European to attempt to land in New Zealand was the Dutchman, Abel Jansen Tasman, who, on August 18, 1642, put into a great 'Bay' at the northernmost point of the South Island. But before his men could step ashore they were fallen on by the Maoris, some being killed, and had to sail away again.
Three months after Tasman's voyage, Henrick Brouwer, another Dutchman, came on the scene. He found that this land, hitherto regarded as part of a continent, was only a number of islands. After his coming, the group was called New Zealand.
For a long time the country was shunned by all vessels, for Tasman's unhappy experience gave the natives the reputation of being murderous savages.
The real discovery of New Zealand by James Cook did not take place until 1769. He was the first white man to enter into contact with the, Maoris, and the first to recognise in them, contrary to report, a people of high intelligence and social development. He brought the Maoris the first domestic animals and the first seed for their crops, and he instructed them in agriculture and cattle farming. His deeds recur in Maori legend as those of a beneficent demi-god.
There was no regular colonisation until 1814, when the missionary,
Before this many Europeans had settled in various parts of the country, mostly the riff-raff of civilisation, convicts from Australian settlements, and similar adventurers. For spirits and tobacco they traded with the Maoris for women and food; also for skulls, for which there was an excellent market in 'civilised' countries. They led a wild life, founded on the law of the fist; and drunkenness and debauchery, robbery and murder, were the order of the day.
The Maori thus got to know the pakeha from the most revolting side, as a race of greedy, covetous individuals who only put their mental and civilised superiority to evil uses. It is not to be wondered at that further European emigration was met with deep mistrust and enmity.
The early colonists had more trouble with these first settlers than with the natives. The unimpeachable character of Marsden, his friendly contact with the Maoris and his quick sense of justice, quickly impressed themselves on the natives, and he soon won a large following. The first two chiefs to embrace Christianity were
Under Marsden's beneficial influence the tribes began to give up their continual intertribal warfare as well as their cannibalistic habits. The missionaries built schools which were eagerly attended by the natives, and European colonisation at last began to appear in a humanitarian light.
But Marsden's success drew other Europeans to New Zealand, and the spirit of greed again began to get the upper hand. The mistrust of the Maoris grew. Their keen intelligence began to see through the malpractices of the Christian, who seemed to interpret his own doctrine of charity in so one-sided a fashion. They soon saw their uninvited guests adopting the airs of being undisputed lords of the country.
But some of the Maoris were just as clever as the pakeha. The story of Hongi, chief of the Ngapuhi, illustrates this strikingly. He resided at Kerikeri, the northernmost part of the North Island. At first a zealous follower of the missionaries, he made special efforts to adopt European ways, and as he was particularly intelligent and possessed considerable influence
He stayed there a year, studying diligently, and after his return acted with renewed zeal in support of the missionaries. These were so delighted with his industry that they determined to send him on a voyage to Europe. They met with no opposition; Hongi, on the contrary, declaring that it had long been his wish to see the great King of England, and to make the acquaintance of his people. He promised to study hard and to return in due course to his country, bringing smiths, carpenters, and miners, so that the Maori might be induced to follow the peaceful arts of which the missionaries spoke.
Hongi left New Zealand in 1820 and went to England with another young Maori and the Englishman, Kendall. He was received at Court, and society was charmed by the tattooed warrior who moved among them quite to the manner born. King George IV gave him a complete suit of armour and many other presents, and both Maoris made many friends, who likewise loaded them with rich gifts. With Hongi's help, Professor Lee of Cambridge wrote a first grammar of the Maori language.
Hongi did indeed study zealously, but in quite a different manner from what the missionaries had intended. What, absorbed him was the art of war according to the white man, and he zealously visited barracks and manoeuvres. The life and conquests of the
When he got back to Sydney, Hongi exchanged all his possessions with an enterprising contractor for rifles, munitions, and other war material. Arrived in New Zealand, he declared to the astonished missionaries that in England he had seen Englishmen governed by an English King. As New Zealand was inhabited by the Maoris, it was only natural that a Maori should rule the country. That Maori, Hongi intended, should be himself. He had noticed that missionaries and other officials were the King's servants, and it was their business to look after his interests. If, therefore, the New Zealand missionaries desired to remain his friends, they must submit to his orders, otherwise it would be his duty to destroy them.
Hongi drilled three thousand warriors in the European fashion, got his canoes ready, and began his destructive journey to the south, his object being to bring all tribes under his supremacy. His first victory was celebrated in gruesome fashion. Sailing south from Whangaroa Harbour to the Thames, his warriors first attacked the pa of the Chief Hinaki. It was taken after a stiff fight. Hongi shot the chief, gouged out his eyes, cut the artery in his neck, and drank the warm red blood. The entire enemy tribe of some one thousand men were killed, and three hundred of the slain were cooked and eaten on the spot. The heads of the chiefs were preserved as trophies, and the remaining bodies
Hongi now started off on a second expedition to Mercury Bay, where he won another victory; then, murdering still, he made for Kaipara. Returning again to the Thames, he laid siege to Totara pa. Finding this strongly fortified, he pretended he would like to form an alliance with its garrison. Without misgiving he and his warriors were admitted into the fortress through the palisades. That night he fell on his hosts as they slept, and massacred over a thousand.
Continuing his march, he took the two pas, Maninena and Mokoia, then had his canoes dragged overland, and rowed from the Gulf of Manukau up the Waiuku River. Thence he went overland to Awaroa, and up the Waikato as far as the Waipa, where he took the Matakitaki pa. From here he went to Wanganui.
In the year 1823 he extended his conquests to Rotomahana and Rotorua in the hot-lake district; and no year passed in which he did not undertake some marauding excursion. In 1827 he burned down the Wesleyan Mission Station at Wingaroa, and began an attack on the chief, Tara, whose warriors, like his own, were armed with European weapons.
In spite of a stout defence they could not hold out against Hongi's superiority. The latter slaughtered men, women, and children, and the few that got away he followed to the village of Hunahuna. Here Fate overtook him in the shape of a stray bullet, which pierced his lungs. At every breath he drew, the air Kia toa! Kia toa!' ('Be brave! Be brave!').
Hene Akineta, an old chief's wife who once put me up on Hauturu Island, related to me the gruesome deeds of Hongi. In her girlhood she had accompanied him on his war expeditions. Among other things she related how once they had lived for three weeks on nothing but human flesh.
As Hongi in the North, so in the South Rauparaha, chief of the Ngatiraukawa, and his ally Rangihaeata, pillaged and slaughtered unceasingly. They also had obtained weapons and munition from the pakeha, and wiped out whole tribes less well-armed than they.
The rest of my account of New Zealand history is founded on the personal recollections related to me by Chief Honana te Majoha and the English interpreter, Hughes.
Compared with Hongi's war excursions, there was at first only a small amount of fighting between Maori and pakeha, and this was principally the fault of the latter, through the Maori being cheated out of his land rights, or because his customs and habits were not respected. The result of these little scraps was generally that the Maoris killed a number of Europeans and then devoured them.
In 1835, a Frenchman, a certain Charles Baron de Thierry, who called himself 'Sovereign Chief of New
Whether the whole story be truth or fiction, the English did their damnedest to extract some legal recognition of English overlordship before he came. For this purpose the Thierry menace was undoubtedly one to be made use of. The natives could perhaps be brought under English rule on the excuse of a defensive alliance against outsiders, without the Maoris realising what had happened. The danger of such an outside invasion only needed to be painted to them in sufficiently glaring colours.
Busby, who was at that time British Resident in the Bay of Islands, on October 10, 1835, issued an address to his countrymen in which he called a joint meeting of Europeans and powerful Maori chiefs of the North Island. The need of an alliance was set before the Maoris. In case of refusal it was pointed out that they would be at the mercy of any adventurous 'Sovereign Chief who might come along to destroy and subdue them.
The English gained their point. The Maoris,
The declaration was signed in the presence of the British Resident by thirty-five chiefs. Those who were unable to write, inscribed their tattoo marks on paper. The declaration also bore the signatures of the
In 1837 the New Zealand Company received from the English Government a concession for the colonisation of New Zealand. In 1840 they founded Wellington, on Cook's Straits, the present capital. In January of that year,
Hobson established himself in what was then the very tiny settlement of Auckland. The negotiations he carried on led, on February 6, 1840, to the treaty of Waitangi. This hastily executed treaty was not only accepted by the Northern chiefs, but by many from the South and Stewart Islands. In all, it bore 512 signatures. It was chiefly owing to the
I gave a facsimile of this treaty to the Imperial (now the State) Library of Vienna, and a second one is in my private possession.
The result of this treaty, the excesses of the Maori, and the beginning of a chain of war feuds, were not long in following. The sale of land was now sanctioned — to the unquestionable advantage of the calculating pakeha.
One of the first Maoris to rebel against the validity of this treaty — a man, too, of remarkable ability — was Hone Heke. Like Hongi, he was a Ngapuhi chief, and indeed Hongi's son-in-law. Although he had accepted Christianity, he disputed English authority over New Zealand.
In 1844, the English erected a flag-pole on a hill near Kororareka, in the Bay of Islands, in Hongi's own part of the country. They hoisted the British flag as a signal for incoming ships. Hone Heke regarded this as a challenge to the Maori, and a symbol of their subjugation. Falling into a rage, he cut down the flag-pole with his own axe, and began a war dance on the spot. To those about him he exclaimed, 'Now I have cut off the serpent's head!'
This revolutionary incident induced the then
The Governor followed their counsel, and Heke did for a time keep quiet; but when the flagstaff was again erected, he was tempted once more to show what a good woodchopper he was. The English now erected a third flag-pole reinforced with steel, and near by they built a block-house full of loop-holes. A garrison was told off to guard the blockhouse.
The chiefs, Nene and Tawai, tried once more to keep Heke quiet, and threatened that if he did not, they would fight against him on the side of the troops. Heke answered that he had heard that the serpent, whose head he had cut off, had swollen into a many-headed monster (by which he referred to the blockhouse with its loop-holes), and that he was curious to see how such an animal would defend itself.
He and Kawiti assembled several hundred warriors, and camped in the neighbourhood of Kororareka. At first only a little stray fighting took place.
Two little episodes which occurred about this time testify to Heke's chivalry and sense of humour. To one lieutenant who had been taken prisoner and disarmed, Heke gave back his weapons and let him go, advising him 'to be cleverer next time.'
On another occasion the English sent a missionary
About four o'clock on the morning of March 11, 1845, settlers of Kororareka were aroused by shooting. Kawiti had fallen on the garrison of Captain Robertson. At the same time, Heke attacked and took the blockhouse. Robertson's troops held out bravely, but were finally outnumbered and forced to retreat. There were dead and wounded on both sides, among the latter being Robertson himself.
The victorious Heke allowed the settlers — who had hurriedly sought the shelter of the ships in the bay — to return and take away their household goods; and he ordered a woman, who in the hurry of flight had been left behind, to be escorted to the ship by his own men. After the English had sailed away for Auckland, Heke burned down the whole settlement, including mission station and church. The missionaries, who remained behind, set to and buried the fallen, friend and foe alike.
Heke now began a defensive war; for his old friends,
Heke now built a new fortress, Ruapekapeka, and here he was surprised and taken prisoner.
On this occasion the conduct of Heke the cannibal stands out in vivid contrast with the guile of the pakeha.
The neutral chief, Ruhe, who supplied the English soldiers with provisions — for even at this time neutral cannibals had learned the art of profiteering! — was obliged to go through Heke's camp in order to reach the English. He asked Heke for permission to pass. 'Yes,' said Heke, 'for the pakeha soldiers must eat if they are to fight.'
The pakeha, on the other hand, was not averse to taking advantage of Heke's Christian beliefs.
One Sunday when he and his warriors were assembled behind the fortress for morning service, without thought of attack, in the firm conviction that the Christian pakeha would be keeping the Sabbath holy in the same way, the English and their friends crept up and entered the deserted pa. They found the Maoris behind the pa praying, and took the unsuspecting congregation completely by surprise.
Heke finally concluded peace in 1848, and thereafter remained quiet. But Maori dissatisfaction did not cease. It grew rather from day to day, because the discord over the sale of land knew no end. Far-seeing
So we come to the great King Movement.
I was given an account of this in a number of talks I had with
Wahanui had been educated in European schools, and he enjoyed the greatest esteem of the Maoris and of the Colonial Government. He occupied the position of Maori Minister and justice of the peace in Ahuahu Kawhia., He had attended the Church High School at Auckland, and was later made postmaster in the Waikato by
When Witiora, Tawhiao's uncle, wanted to sell land in Kawhia — that sacred part of the coast where the forefathers of the Maori, coming from their traditional home Hawaiki, are supposed to have landed — Wahanui was not able to obtain agreement between the Maoris. Owing to the ensuing dispute he sent chiefs to different tribes with the message that they should give up the sale of land entirely.
By deciding on this step he definitely renounced his former attitude of strict neutrality, and became the pakeha to possess the land, and the inexperienced Maori sold his precious birthright for worthless truck, spirits, jewellery, and weapons. In a short while, he saw, they would be driven to hunger and want.
Most of the tribes followed Wahanui's counsel. This decision not to sell their land prepared them for the idea of electing a king over all the tribes — one who would be sufficiently strong to defend their rights and put a stop to the sale of land and the incessant warfare between them. Wahanui summed up the Maori point of view with a question: 'The pakeha have laws for themselves; why, then, have they not also a law for the Maori to protect him against this evil?'
The first to instigate propaganda for a Maori king was Rauparaha, of the Ngatitoa tribe, and
This somewhat original proposal was not received with favour by the assembled tribes. They were impatient for a king, and
The flag of the new kingdom — white, as a symbol of peace, with a red border and a red cross, and with three stars in the upper right quarter — was hoisted before King Potatau's hut. The three stars were intended to represent faith, love, and righteousness.
Potatau (he was called the 'Peace King') strove for a peaceful and fraternal union of all tribes for productive work for the common good, and for the upholding of the three virtues, of which his flag was to be the symbol.
At the very commencement Wahanui stood in opposition to this movement, but he soon changed his mind, and with some reason, as the following story illustrates.
In the year 1859, the land troubles, which were to lead to such long and bitter disputes on both sides, and to the so-called Maori War, began again
When the Governor heard this, he sent to King Potatau to request him to remain neutral should it come to blows. Now the last thing Potatau wanted was bloodshed. He therefore established a Maori court of arbitration, and asked the Governor, if needs be, to come alone, without troops, to Waitara, but only to do so as a last resource. To this message Governor Brown did not reply.
Potatau then went with his party to Ngaruwahia, to hold a council and choose a peace committee. When the Maoris were assembled, a messenger brought news to the King that in spite of his request the Governor was advancing on Waitara with regular troops and volunteers. The conclusion naturally was that it was the Governor's intention to unite with Kirikumara for an attack upon Wiremu. He had also sent surveyors again to Wiremu's land, and when the
By this time Wahanui had had enough of his pakeha friends. After this affair he wrote a letter to the Governor in the following terms:
'As you would not wait, and as you came with your soldiers instead of settling the quarrel in peace, I perceive that you wish to conquer our land by force. It is well that I should know this. Now I will join the King's party and fight to my last breath for free Maoriland and for our native rights.'
Nevertheless, and in spite of the Governor's practical declaration of war, King Potatau made one more effort to pave the way to a peaceful settlement. He sent the chief, Tomehana Tarapipi, with two hundred Maoris, to Waitara to try and patch up the quarrel. Tarapipi addressed the assembled Waitara Maoris in a vigorous speech, in which he declared:
'I do not understand why the Europeans have not established any law for the settlement of disputes regarding the ownership of land without having resort to the spilling of blood. I understand this even less when I think of all the unfortunate incidents that have already occurred owing to these disputes. And I understand less still since the Governor himself — skilled as he is in the framing of laws to meet the most trifling occasion — is present on the spot. But since it is so, Waikato Maoris, Ngatimahuta, Ngati-tauwa, and Ngatimaniapoto, we who are all brothers and of one race, let it be said of us at least that we
The efforts of the King's representative were successful in so far that peace was formally decided on by the assembled Maoris. Afterwards Tarapipi left the place with a small following to inform the King of the news of the successful outcome of his peace efforts.
Unfortunately, when a few days later the rest of the peace committee followed him on the road back to Ngaruwahia, they came into contact with English volunteer troops. One or other of the parties opened fire — whether Maori or pakeha nobody knows, or whether it was by accident or design — and the battle blazed up in a moment.
The Europeans were driven back, chased into a swamp, and nearly all killed. The Maoris lost comparatively few men. They continued their way unmolested, and sent the King news of this attack.
Potatau, still wishing for peace, called his chiefs together, and invited the Europeans to meet him. When they were assembled together, Tomehana Tarapipi stood up and spoke. To the pakeha he said:
'This assembly has been called owing to the dispute at Waitara. Again I repeat to you the same question as before: "When people have a quarrel, is there no way out but bloodshed?" You say that you have no power to pass laws for our protection, and you say that we have not the right to elect a king from among us to protect ourselves. Does not your Bible say, "Choose a king out of your own tribe"? Who is right
To this Bishop Lord Selwyn replied: 'Two flags or two sovereigns can seldom live together in the same country, therefore King Potatau should pull down his flag.'
As a result of this meeting,
The new Governor called together a second conference, to which both Maori and European were invited, and a committee was nominated which included twenty young Maori chiefs. These were empowered to act as judges in future land disputes. Unfortunately, however, this did not prove a happy solution to the difficulties.
To get a better idea of the King's views, the Governor now turned to the chiefs, Manahiri and Tomate Ngapora, who were in Mangari. He asked Manahiri if he knew what was in the King's mind. The latter gazed round the room and took a stick from the wall, which he laid between two carpets. When Sir George Grey asked him what this strange behaviour might mean, the chief replied: 'Let this be your land and this your friend Potatau's.'
But when the Governor suggested that the Maoris
Potatau died in 1860. He was succeeded by his son, Matutaere, who was named King Tawhiao. Tawhiao was born in Orongo Koekoea in 1825. He was christened Matutaere (Methusalem), and had been educated at European schools.
Now, after Manahiri's arrival, Tawhiao called together a council of his chiefs, and it was decided to warn all tribes to be on their guard against the pakeha. At the same time they were to avoid as far as possible any act of bloodshed.
Meanwhile General Cameron had already crossed the Maori border.
The Maoris had thrown up entrenchments, but nevertheless Tawhiao ordered them all to withdraw to the bush. However, a number of Maoris who were attacked, confident of the justice of their cause, disobeyed the King's order. A hundred natives fell upon Cameron's troops, consisting of two thousand well-armed Europeans, infantry, cavalry, and pioneers, and held them at bay for an hour, after which they
The natives were very poorly armed in comparison to the pakeha, for the most part only possessing old muskets and shot-guns. In addition, they had an old cannon, which they had taken from a stranded ship, and out of which they shot rounds of stone and chain links. Many of the warriors had only their own native weapons of stone and wood. But the justice of their cause gave them courage.
General Cameron camped before the Maori fortress for three months before he was able to take it. During this time he sent to Sydney for a warship to bring him an additional seven hundred men. The ship arrived, and went up the Waikato River for 8 miles.
After its arrival, the General attempted a fresh assault on the pa. The natives had drawn farther back, but a small band of seventy men fell upon the newly arrived Englishmen whilst they were disembarking. They then drew back without much loss to Rangariri, where a further thousand Maoris were entrenched.
With two thousand of his men, Cameron attacked this new fortress and captured it, after a hard struggle, which lasted from ten in the morning well into the following day. On both sides losses were considerable. Two hundred Maoris were taken prisoner, and the rest retreated to Ngaruwahia. Here warriors were streaming in from all sides, and their number soon swelled to five thousand. They were divided into three parties, the largest entrenching themselves at Paterangi Pa.
This Cameron also attacked, but found it
The Maoris, delighted at the suggestion of the pakeha, sent their women and children away forthwith, and awaited the expected attack. They waited for two or three days, but none came. Then at last a few Maori women crept back into the pa, exhausted by flight and the terrible time they had experienced. They broke the news that the pakeha had already captured Rangiawhia — the village to which they had been promised a free passage — and related how, defenceless as they were, as they came out of their own pa they had been fallen upon and taken prisoner by the troops. A few of them had been killed, and these few stragglers were the only ones who had been able to get away.
Roused at this news, the Maoris now left their pa to take revenge, and to free their women and children. This was just what Cameron had been waiting for. He had decoyed the Maoris from their fortress, and could now meet them in the open. As the proverb says, 'The end justified the means,' only in this case both means and end were questionable. However, the fight which resulted at Hauriri turned out favourably for the English.
In this battle, Wahanui, who had long been fighting
The war was nearing its end. Only Rewi, the celebrated chief, entrenched himself with a few hundred of his faithful followers in Orakau. Here he was fallen upon by the Europeans in great numbers and cut off from all supplies. For three days Rewi and his people held out.
The English General, Gary, greatly impressed by the courage of the Maoris, sent an officer along to speak to them and to promise them freedom should they peacefully lay down their arms. To this Rewi proudly answered, 'We will fight and die for our own freedom in our own land.' Nearly starving the Maoris next day made a sortie, and though they lost heavily, they succeeded in breaking through the English lines.
After the conclusion of peace in 1882, when I first entered the King Country, Rewi was living amicably in Kihikihi, where the New Zealand Government had built him a house in recognition of his bravery. The once dreaded enemy of the pakeha received me most hospitably in his own home.
In addition to the above main fighting episodes, a number of smaller campaigns took place. The Maoris had drawn back to Taranaki, where Tawhiao paid a
'Lay down your weapons. Be wise. I am going home to Kuiti to weep over my lost brothers. Though the whites exterminate the trunk they cannot pull out the roots. Avoid all sale and lease of land. Permit no European to cross the border of this, our last free Maoriland. We want no roads or schools from them. Let them do with their own land what they will.'
Peace being concluded, a hatchet was buried, as a symbol that the fighting was ended.
The boundaries of a free and independent Maori-land were fixed as follows: in the north by the Waipa River, in the west by the sea (the harbour of Kawhia), in the south by Whitecliffs, and in the east by Lake Taupo. It was further agreed upon that no European should be allowed to cross these boundaries, and if, in spite of warning, any pakeha should do so, he would be killed. This actually happened to several Europeans.
After the war, the King resided at
Thus in the year 1864 ended the desperate fight of the Maoris for land and freedom. The real owners of the soil were forced to abandon their claims and retreat to their small province — the King Country — where they were at last left unmolested.
To complete the picture of discord, a few words must be added about the influence of Christianity on the native. In spite of cannibalism the Maoris were
With growing fanaticism and the cruel narrowness of bigoted belief they embraced this danae gift of European civilization — a brand new creed. The sublime figure of the Prince of Peace, accepted as a gift from the white man, they saw used only too often as a blind for robbery and destruction. Once again, in the name of Christ, muskets, liquor, and syphilis were doing their bit towards establishing European dominion.
I have already referred to the noble work of
Selwyn sent missionaries into the Wesleyan sphere, who told the Maoris that their other teachers were false prophets, and had no right to baptize. He called them 'those ravishing wolves to which the Bible refers.'
Hearing this from their new teachers, the Maoris began to think they had been grossly deceived, and
A little story which Tawhiao himself told me, illustrates the quick understanding of the Maori. It is a tale of the one true God. Noticing here and there in the King Country remains of European plantations, I had asked the King how they came to be in this prohibited district.
'Once a friendly man,' he replied, 'came to us, a missionary, who loved my father, and we all loved him, for he turned our bad men into good. We lived at peace with him, and he taught us many useful things. Then, some time after, a second missionary came, who taught us different things about the one true God. He told us his God was better than the God of the first priest. He, too, found some adherents. We Maoris were then divided into two camps, but were still living peacefully together. Then there came a third missionary, who preached yet a different doctrine. Whereupon we chiefs and elders held council, and decided as follows:
'"That all missionaries should leave the country and only he permitted to return when they were of one mind about God; for only one of them could surely be in the right. If they returned of one accord we would listen to their preachings and judge of it ourselves.
'As the last two refused to go, we killed them, and what you see are the remains of their homesteads.'
The resistance of the Maoris flared up into the King Movement, and out of their religious fanaticism arose a new teaching, the Pai-Marire or Hau-hau religion. These two movements (the King Movement and the Hau-hau) coincided, and are closely interwoven.
The prophet,
When the Lord Worsley, an English ship, was stranded on the Taranaki coast,
He went down to the beach, and begged the Maoris not to plunder the wreck and rob the passengers. When he was ridiculed, he went into his hut and entreated pardon on their behalf of his God, Pai-Marire, the all-good peaceful One.
Shortly after this incident,
From now on
niu) as a symbol to all true believers that they should meet at this place, and when all the Maoris were gathered there the angels would sing to them the Waiota, the hymn of the Holy Trinity, and all those who really believed would have their tongues loosened and so be given the power of converting others.
The origin of the word 'hau-hau,' which is what most Europeans term the Pai-Marire, is rather obscure. But according to what was related to me, it may have originated from the rustling (hau) of the wind. I myself think it is more likely that the war-cry of the pakeha to name the rebellious Maoris 'Hau-haus.'
The new religion fell on fruitful soil, the nationalist Maoris adopting it with great enthusiasm. When its influence had spread far and wide,
The Archangel now appeared to
'You are the high priest of the Pai-Marire; choose as your disciples Matene and Hepanaia.'
The head continued to act as an oracle, and legions of angels awaited the time for it to be sent out to all tribes. Then all the tribes would arise against the pakeha, and with the help of the angels would destroy them. As proof of their power, the language, arts, and science of the pakeha were to be overthrown by the Pai-Marire.
The Hau-haus considered themselves bullet-proof, for did not their prophet say: 'Should the enemy take aim at you, all you need do is to draw the open hand backwards, and hold it quickly above the head, at the same time shouting out "Hau-hau!" Then the bullets will fly over your heads.'
After the victory at Taranaki, and the dispatch of
Hepanaia and the other disciples were in the van of those fighting for the destruction of the whites. They aroused the bloodthirstiness of the Maoris to its full pitch, and celebrated their triumphs over the pakeha in the most revolting manner. Hepanaia's ardour soon cooled, however, when he was beaten, with heavy losses, on besieging Century Hill Fort. On the Other hand, Keriopa and Pataia wallowed in the most gruesome of blood orgies.
The murder of the missionary Eclipse to Opotiki in the Bay of Plenty.
In the meantime, Keriopa had set Völkner's former followers against him, by telling them that the missionary had only gone to Auckland to betray them to the military. He would come in the night, said he, to attack the Maoris. When Keriopa had enough followers, he boastfully declared: 'If you do not believe my words,
Völkner was seized immediately on his arrival, his faithful followers not daring to speak for him. When he was on trial there were very few who opposed his murder. One of this minority, however, Te Ranapia, demanded of the assembly that he should be set at liberty, but Keriopa would not hear of it.
When the death-sentence was passed on him, the bloodthirsty crowd led the missionary to church, where he was bound and a halter put round his neck. Then he was taken to a tree. Even at the last minute Te Ranapia made an effort to save him, springing forward to his rescue, but he fell at the very moment that Völkner was hoisted up on the tree.
Völkner's body was afterwards lowered and dragged back to church. Here Keriopa struck off his head, and invited other Hau-haus as true believers to drink of the warm blood. He then took a greenstone implement, gouged out the missionary's eyes, and swallowed them. The Maoris did as commanded, and drank of the blood, also smearing their faces with it.
Pataia was away on a mission while this was taking place. As soon as he learnt of the murder he sent for Keriopa to come to justify his deed, but Keriopa would not obey. Thus a noble white man died for the sins committed by others of his race. He died a fearless but a horrible death.
A similar fate befell his murderer, for a short time after, Keriopa was taken prisoner and condemned to
So the religious war merged itself into the Maori war. When the latter came to an end, the free tribes of the King Country, under King Tawhiao, still remained followers of the Pai-Marire religion, Tawhiao maintaining that he had been appointed King by the Archangel Gabriel.
When I arrived in Alexandra, the boundary township of Maoriland, the chiefs told me to my dismay that I might not cross the border. I declared to them repeatedly that I only wanted to see their country as a scientist and not as a political spy, and they could convince themselves of that whenever they chose. I said it would grieve me very much to be rejected by such a highly intelligent people as the Maoris, whom I loved and esteemed so highly.
Wahanui answered to that, 'Taihoa, pakeha, taihoa! ('Wait, white man, wait!')
A meeting was called to talk the matter over, in which I was allowed to take part.
Such meetings were often held by the Maoris. They were always ceremoniously conducted, and formed what may be called the Parliament of the natives, at which the chiefs, representing their own tribes, expressed themselves with impressive oratory, pleading their rights and interests with picturesque force.
On this occasion the debate (korero) began according to time-honoured custom. First of all, quantities of provisions were brought to the place, kumara, taro, hire, and rewai, birds preserved in oil, dried eels, sharks, and edible mussels, and finally, whole pigs and oxen. The baskets were bound together with strings of flax, and piled up in separate heaps to a runanga). Huts were erected for the guests, and cooking-pits dug.
Already at dawn of day I found a chief (karere) standing on guard with his warriors. The different tribes as they arrived were greeted with songs of welcome: 'Ehoa, Heremai tauwhaka!' and with a war dance (haka).
For this the Maoris were clad only in a kotikoti, a loin-kilt, with their faces and chests gaudily painted with ochre colours.
The guests were led to the village, where they were met by the women and the girls, dancing with out-stretched arms, who brought them to the mare, or village square. Here began the real greeting, the hongi, or nose-rubbing. The dancers seated themselves on the ground at some distance off with crossed legs.
Then a chief conducted the arrivals to the huts which had been prepared for them. It took a few days for all, the guests to assemble. After they had all arrived, they went to the mare, where the provisions lay. A chief strode at the head of the procession: in one hand he carried a long staff, and in the other, a short one on which were bound bundles of wild-pigeon feathers. When they reached the square, the leader began to sing. As often as, during his singing, he touched a portion of the provisions with his staff, one of the chieftains present took possession of the pile, and divided it among his tribe, who in their turn carried it away to their huts.
After this distribution of food, the debate began. A
While speaking, he would walk up and down with a quick step, towards the end of his speech also making springs, during which he executed fighting movements with his club; and he finally returned to his place with a slow stride, speaking all the time. No one might disturb the orator, however long he cared to go on speaking.
The first to speak was the senior in rank. As soon as he had finished, up sprang the next, and put his views before the meeting. The debate lasted until the paohore, the wooden clapper, sounded. At this signal the separate groups went off to their appointed cooking-places and had their meal. That finished, the debate continued. At the end, feasting, with dancing and singing, lasted until the food had all been consumed.
In my case the council lasted three days. My opponents said: 'He has a white skin. How then can he, be our friend?'
They saw, and not without some reason, an enemy in every European. Only when the influential chiefs, Wahanui, Te Witiora, and Honana, offered to stand warrant for me, was the opposition outvoted.
In the concluding stages of the debate I took no part, as I had returned to Alexandra. My joy can be imagined when, on the fourth day, Honana Te Majoha
The Maori King Country now lay before me! I was about to experience the wonder of a strange old raceculture; I could observe the secrets of a rare and unspoiled world.
Honana and galloped onwards along the right bank of the Waipa River, over a fern-covered plain. We came at length to a Maori village, in which King Tawhiao and several hundred Maoris were awaiting my arrival.
Here preparations had been made for a feast in my honour. Honana and I stopped before the King's hut. He, a powerful energetic man with a richly tattooed face, came out to meet us. He was wearing a mantle of kiwi feathers over his shoulders; his hair was adorned with huia feathers, the badge of rank; his ears were hung with ornaments of sharks' teeth and greenstone pendants; in his hand he carried a large and beautifully formed greenstone club.
He stooped to welcome me by nose-rubbing, during which he uttered a long-drawn wailing sound. It was the welcome of the Maori.
The Queen, Tawhiao's first wife, came after him. She was rather corpulent, and tattooed on lips and chin. It was difficult for me to keep a straight face when I saw how she was clad for the feast; She was wrapped in a calico dress on which all kinds of card games were printed in a strange manner; a top-hat formed her head-dress.
In pleasant contrast to this tragi-comic caricature
The herculean chiefs and warriors were sitting together in groups before the huts, all in native dress. They were richly tattooed on the face, many also ' round the hips, and the upper part of their bodies was painted. They wore feather decorations in their hair.
Their clothing consisted either of a mere loin-kilt made of New Zealand flax, with coloured edges beautifully ornamented, the kaitaka, or of the korowai cloak, ornamented with black edging, and thrown over the shoulders. But a few wore only the little kilt of raw flax, the kotikoti.
For weapons the chiefs carried the taiaha, a spear made of hard manuka, the beautifully carved point of which represented the head of a man with tongue sticking out, Others carried wooden lances or long, hatchet-like weapons called tewhatewha. Most of the Chiefs also carried clubs of a fair size in their girdles, those of the most important indeed being of greenstone, the finished making of which took twelve years; and there were other clubs as well, the so-called meremere of carved wood, and the ordinary stoneclubs (patu kotato).
The women and girls, who were for the most part strikingly handsome and of somewhat European features, were tattooed only on lips and chin, except a few with additional tattooing on the hips. In their tangled and generally black hair they wore an
Their clothing consisted of mats or woven flax, and they wore no shoes. Some of them were occupied in peeling sweet potatoes with mussel-shells, which served as knives. Young girls were plaiting little fourcornered food-baskets out of flax and reeds, and some children were playing with a piece of pear-shaped wood, which they drove before them like, a top with sticks or little whips, while others were wrestling together.
Honana introduced me to some of the Maoris. Some bowed their heads in greeting, while others observed me with the greatest amazement. Until now they had never seen a white man. A few chiefs spoke to me.
The feast began with horse-racing. The horse, which the European had brought to New Zealand, is more highly prized by the Maoris than any other animal, and the sport of racing is now passionately pursued by this warlike and sport-loving people.
The course was over a fern-covered plain, the starting-point being denoted by a post hung with branches of flax. Most of the jockeys rode good horses. The first one was clad only in a flax cloth, the second in European breeches and cap, the third wore a kotikoti round his waist and had decorated his hair with feathers, the fourth was distinguished by his long cloak, and the fifth was wearing a woman's jacket and a tea-cosy on his head. A few had European saddles, but others were merely plaited out of New
Several chiefs formed the committee, and the programme was divided into five races. The horses ran well, and at the end, prizes were distributed, consisting of money, pipes, and tobacco.
At the conclusion of the races, the monotonous paohore, the wooden clapper that is often struck for hours on end on the selfsame note, was sounded. It was a signal for the beginning of the feast. I was led into the King's hut. This was built of reeds, and in the interior I found the floor covered with a cushion of fern-roots over which mats were spread. On these we seated ourselves.
The meal was now served up. It consisted of stewed eel and sweet potatoes, presented to us in little neatly woven, four-cornered flax-baskets. The Queen waited on me with her own hands. We ate with our fingers, for no knives and forks were available. The rest of the Maoris had betaken themselves to their own cookingplaces. After the meal there was more racing and swimming. Finally the Maoris went away in groups to their own villages.
Chief Honana and I rode to Whatiwhatihoi, a Maori village to which the boy had already taken my baggage. It was put into a hut there, but when I wanted to go inside and take it away, the chief drew me back and said, 'Taihoa, nga tapu!' ('Wait, it is tapu!')
He thereupon took away the tapu token, a beautifully carved weapon of whalebone (hoeroa) and the tapu was dissolved. Then everything was quickly
It was a wonderful moonlight night. The narrow track led over fern-covered highland; in the west the Pirongia Range gleamed majestically. Over the Waipa valley a grey mist was creeping, and the stone-owls were calling in a deep bass through the stillness their monotonous 'Morepork! Morepork!' Suddenly we heard the loud cry of the Maori lad and the, hoofbeats of the horse galloping away. Through carelessness he had let him break loose.
I sent Cæsar after him, but because the native track was exceedingly narrow, the dog could not get ahead of the horse. We only succeeded in catching him by a stream, Ngakiaokio, but by that time both pack and saddle had been torn off. Cæsar went off to look for them, and managed to find and bring back all the smaller objects from my pack. Then he returned and remained by the larger, barking loudly until we came along to fetch them.
Once, when we were so far off that we could not hear his barks, he came tearing along back to us, wagging his tail, and then sprang off again, barking, until we followed him and fetched the objects. Soon we had found everything except a shoe, which Cæsar also managed to bring back after a long search.
The chief was so astonished at Cæsar's cleverness that he cried out: 'Nahore te kuri, nga tangata, nga riri te kuri!' ('You are no dog, but the spirit of a man in the skin of a dog !')
After this little adventure we set off again on our
'You are the first man I have ever carried. I am only doing so out of love for you, for you are a great chief.'
During our tramp he told me much about his people and the Maori wars. Finally we reached Te Kopua, his own village. Here we were greeted by his wife, a tall, handsome figure with tattooed lips and chin, and with scars on her face and body which bore witness to the courage with which she had fought in 1864 by the side of her husband against the pakeha. She was immensely delighted about my coming, and immediately prepared a meal of 'porka' and kumara, and got me" ready a bed of fern-root covered over with mats. I and my Maori attendant soon laid ourselves down to rest, but could not sleep for long on account of the many midges and sand-flies which pestered us. As was my habit, I wanted to be out in the open and away by break of day, and accordingly I told the Maori lad that it was time for us to make a move. I called and shook him, but he only rolled himself up again in his blanket.
I therefore ordered Cæsar to wake him. First of all he pulled his mat away, but when the youth rolled himself up again in a ball, he seized him by his long hair and tugged away at that. This worked, and the lad was on his feet in no time.
On February 16, the chief conducted me to his
This handpress, or hokioi, had the following history: When 'Hokiteka,' Professor Ferdinand von Hochstetter, the celebrated Austrian geologist who took part in the world cruise of the frigate Novara, was in New Zealand, two chiefs, Wireama Toitoi and Hemera te Rerehau, joined themselves to him. They journeyed to Europe with the Novara, and came to Vienna. There they were received at Court, and introduced among others to the Archduke Maximilian. He asked them what he could do to please them, and Wireama Toitoi answered that he might present them with a printing-press so that they could publish a paper of their own when they got back.
They were presented with a handpress, and taught the compositor's business in the Imperial Printing Works. They took the press back to New Zealand with them, and there issued a political paper, the Hokioi, of which Chief Patora te Tui was editor and publisher.
When war broke out, they wrote revolutionary articles against the pakeha; and when the Maoris were forced to retreat before the white troops, they carried the press with them, putting it into a canoe in order to bring it over the Waipa River. But, alas! the canoe turned turtle, and the press sank.
Honana told me that the Maoris, who were armed with muskets, were at last forced through shortage of
Chief Honana held a korero (talk) about Cæsar with his Maoris. The result was that henceforth Cæsar was bountifully fed with titbits, and they treated him with great respect. For the future nobody dared to come near the tent at night without first calling out 'Kui!' (Cooee).
On the 7th I rode, accompanied by a Maori lad, from Te Kopua to the Moakurarua River. We crossed it, then went on over highland to Ngakiaokio River, and then once more into the bush. Going by the plantations at the edge of the bush, we met Poupatate and Te Reureu, who invited us to stay for a meal. They had that Maori delicacy, rotten sharks' flesh, with potatoes and honey, got ready for us. I contented myself, however, with the 'extras.'
After the meal we penetrated into the bush. My dog tracked a kiwi to its hole, and after long digging, we succeeded in finding it. In the evening we prepared camp by a spring out of branches and moss. My boy lighted a great fire as a protection against evil spirits.
Next morning we went farther into the range. I captured some interesting specimens, and spent
Near the King's hut a comfortable tent was fitted up for my use. An attendant was assigned to me, a chief sitting continually before my tent as a guard of honour — in reality as observer of my doings — while another Maori prepared food for me. At their own request the King and those chiefs who assisted him as councillors visited me daily; and they often remained with me for five hours at a stretch, during which time lively debating took place.
The Maoris of the King Country were then divided into two camps. The one wanted to pave the way to peaceable relations with the pakeha and to open up the boundaries of the country. But the other party wanted to see all the Europeans driven out and kept away by force. This radical party thought victory was certain, for they believed that through prayer and secret signs their bodies could be made bullet-proof.
The first question the King put to me was, how I liked the Maori people ? I replied that I could see they were an intelligent and a brave race, who had unfortunately been led astray and betrayed, and I could see that they now entertained hate and mistrust towards all Europeans. But they ought not to believe that all white men were their enemies.
I took two kumaras (sweet potatoes) with fine skins pakeha. Some come to you flatteringly, talk to you sweetly, telling you that they are your friends, but they are only on the watch for what they can get out of you, and are really laughing at you. But the others, who appear to you stern and rough, they will not go behind your backs, for they detest such meanness.'
The second question of the King was what I thought of his dark skin, and whether I was afraid of the Hau-haus? I told him that I formed my judgment of a person not according to his race and colour, but by his character; and that I esteemed the customs and beliefs of the Maoris, and knew of no reason why I should be afraid of anybody.
The King appeared to be satisfied with my answers, and asked further if the race to which I belonged elected their King from their own or from another tribe. I replied that it was only natural that the white people should elect a white man for their King.
'Why do the English, then, want to force a white Queen upon us?' asked Tawhiao.
I replied that the English would not take away the rights of the Maoris if they would only live at peace with them, and would deliver up the murderers whom they still harboured in their territory.
Tawhiao said that he was indeed ready to come to a friendly understanding, but that he would not deliver pakeha, they were made war upon. Because the Europeans had better weapons than they, according to natural laws they were being forced to go under. Now they even appeared as the guilty ones, because they were the weaker.
From the questions which the King had put, and the watchful behaviour of his chiefs, it became clear to me that the hatred and mistrust of the Maori was likely to stir up a new war, and that my position here, in the midst of the Hau-haus, was a risky one.
The King's next question convinced me that I was not mistaken. He told me that the prophet,
'But if they still do attack?'
'Well,' I said, 'then throw all your weapons away and get ready a great feast for the soldiers. Seat yourselves on the ground and watch them. But don't fight! I am certain that the English Colonial troops are not so cowardly as to overpower a defenceless force!'
The chiefs were dumbfounded at my answer, and left my tent with friendly nods. I was put under observation again, but always treated as a guest of
I will here anticipate a little, and admit that my position soon underwent a surprising change; and a very! pleasant surprise it was too, as you will see.
The next morning the King invited me to a kiwi hunt. Great preparations had been set on foot, meat and vegetables packed in baskets, a pack of dogs brought along, and soon the long procession started off.
But when the members of the hunt, consisting of the| King with his bodyguard and myself, were about to move, it began to rain, and the hunt was put off for the time being. I, however, went on alone, with my two attendants, into the Pirongia Range. We penetrated deep into the bush, but the weather became worse and worse, and a thick mist descended on us, compelling us to turn back.
I asked one of my companions if he knew where we were, and in what direction Whatiwhatihoi lay. He clambered up into a tree to try and find out, but soon came down with a very troubled face, declaring he could not rightly say where we were, that we should certainly perish there, as many had done before us who had ventured into this bush without taking heed of the track.
I calmed his fears, told the two of them I had an
The following morning my companions were highly, intrigued when I took out my compass and followed a set direction through the bush. About midday we reached the edge of the bush and saw Whatiwhatihoi lying below us. They exhibited childlike joy over their 'rescue,' marvelling at the 'watch' that showed the right way. They naturally informed the King of this wonder at once, and he was very much amused to hear that I had had to guide my 'guides.' Tawhiao asked me to show and explain the compass to him.
It was on the 14th that I experienced my great surprise. The King's uncle,
The chief made me the following address:
I greet you as our friend! The King sends this token of his love for you. He sees that you are a true
I thanked him for the honour, and was pleased that from now on I should be rid of my observers, and that I could explore the country unhindered.
I went to see the King, who received me like a brother. When I had thanked him, he said to me:
'We love you because you are a man after our own heart. Were all whites like you, then we should never have lifted club or spear against them. For the past twenty years we have closed our last stretch of land against the white man. You are the first to whom we have allowed entrance. God grant that the mind of the white man will change!'
'Nuitireni,Kopua,Kopua, New Zealand Pepuere, 1882.'
He tangata nui a,0 te Epara o te Kiingi tanga o Ahitiria, i whaka ae tia e
Kingi Tawhiao , kia pupuhi i nga tini ahua manu katoa, o nga takiwa ki Pirongia ki Whatiwhatihoe ki te Kopua. Kia atawhai nga Maori o aua takiwa kiaia, ko tou Tuhimareikura tena e te Maori, ko te Atawhai.'Na Honana Majoha.'
Reta whakaatu ki nga Maori. Translation, Kopua(N.Z.)February1882.Mr. Reischek, who is a great personage from the Empire of Austria, has received permission from King Tawhiao to shoot birds of all the different kinds in the localities of Pirongia, Whatiwhatihoi, and Kopua. Let the Maoris in those parts show him hospitality. For hospitality, O Maori, is one of your greatest characteristics.
By Honana Majoha.
In the evening I rode with Honana to Te Kopua. Next day I got ready for an expedition which would take several weeks, to Hikurangi, Kawhia, and Taranaki. I rode over the river, then over the plain and the highland, and presently saw smoke rising from a rapu hut, showing that my friend,
I had, of course, to eat with him — to refuse a proffered meal would be the greatest insult possible to a Maori.
We then rode on together over rising ground, through streams and swamps, to Hikurangi, a great Maori pa lying on a steep hillside. The village lies to the west side. East and south of it is dense forest. Every hut had a piece of land adjoining, where horses, cattle, and sheep were grazing. The chief, Paingahuru, received us hospitably at his hut and entertained us well. We spent the night there.
On the 16th I was introduced to several chiefs, and again presented with a huia's tail; also with a taiaha (chief's lance), and several other symbols of rank. I presented to the chiefs pipes, tobacco, knives, silver and gold ear-rings, pencils, mirrors, rings, etc., in return.
With the chief, Taneira, I went into the neighbouring bush to hunt kiwi, but we had no luck. We got a few pigeons, parrakeets, and tuis, and in the evening returned to Hikurangi.
Once this village had been the flourishing residence of the Maori King, but since Tawhiao had returned to Whatiwhatihoi it had been left but scantily settled. I showed my compass here. The Maoris name the north Tonga, the south Horaro, the west Maraungau, and the east Hauwaru.
The following morning I enjoyed a magnificent prospect. Northwards lay the Thames Range; northeast, the Haurakis, Wharepuhunga, Mangatautari; to the east the Hangahanga Range, behind which lay
On the 18th I rode with
I was well received by the Maoris, who never tired of looking at me. In a hut, in the middle of which a fire was burning, half-naked muscular men and women were sitting, who bowed their heads by way of greeting. We went into another hut, where an old man was sitting with a beautiful flax mat over his shoulders. On my remarking on its beauty, he took it off, threw it over my shoulders, and said: 'Take it out of friendship for me.
When I saw him sitting naked there, I asked my companion whether the man had not another mat, but he said no. I began to regret now that I had accepted it, but might, under no consideration, give it back, for fear of offending the giver. I therefore sent him a blanket for his own use.
From here we went to a place where formerly a runanga (meeting-house) had stood. High posts with beautifully carved heads of tikis were all that remained. I stood admiring them, and Te. Witiora asked me whether I would like to have them. When I replied that I would, he said: 'Taihoa, nga tapu!' ('Wait, it is still tapu!') He then lifted the tapu, and next day, with the help of the chief, I sawed off the heads.
For couch, a flax mat was spread out for me in the new runanga, on which I stretched myself. The natives sat around and sang their prayers, in which they mentioned King Tawhiao, as well as prominent chiefs of former times. In the evenings at six o'clock, and in the mornings at seven, prayers were said to the great spirit, Tukonata.
Next day I rode with
He became so excited about it that he would have sprung at me; but at this critical moment
I left Hikurangi with the chief, Taniera, in order to ride to Kawhia. The bridle-track led past little bushclearings with fenced-in Maori plantations; every hundred paces or so a high post stuck up above the fence, bearing on the top a carved head. On account of the rain the track was so muddy between the roots of trees that the horses in places sank up to the saddlegirths.
We therefore rode only a short way, and pulled up at a little hut before which a group of Maoris were gathered. They had come from Taranaki, where the great prophet Ti Witi dwelt, to visit King Tawhiao, and ask his advice, as they were being besieged by European volunteer troops. They were astonished to see me, a white man, in the Maori King Country, and did not trouble to hide their displeasure. As the weather became still worse, we rode back to Hikurangi. The following day
On February 24, I started off on a longer trip. A Maori lad and Cæsar were my companions. We first crossed the forest-covered Teraumea Range. The many fallen tree-trunks, the interlaced roots, and the mudpools, made our progress very difficult. We stopped that evening beside a creek, set up a shelter of fern-grass,
Soon afterwards we reached the harbour of Kawhia, the only good landing-place in the Maori King Country, which was barred to European ships. Numbers of scattered huts and a great Maori settlement lay spread out along the bay. A little rocky island lying, before the harbour is pointed out as the petrified double-canoe of those old days when the forefathers of the Maoris came here from Hawaiki.
In this neighbourhood are some old Maori burial-places in limestone caves, which are said to contain mummies. The tapu on such graves is indissoluble, and any one who disregards it is killed.
Late that evening we reached Pukekohe, the settlement of the chief, Te Kie Tainui, who received us hospitably. After a frugal meal we went to sleep in the meeting-house. On the 26th the chief took us into the
On March 1, we returned to Pukekohe. A few days later a number of Maoris came on a visit in order to lament over a dead chief. They were all on horseback, even the women sitting straddle-legged with pipe in mouth.
The head wife of the chieftain, Te Kie Tainui, came out of the chief's hut to welcome the arrivals, who seated themselves with crossed legs on the ground, with songs of welcome. The visitors hid their faces in their hands, and wailed aloud in a rhythmic tone similar to singing. This lasted perhaps half an hour; the chief then came out of the hut clad in a parawai mat, and bade his guests welcome with a song. After this ceremony the Maoris rubbed noses with their relatives, letting out further mournful wails.
Other natives had in the meantime fixed up hangis. The food as usual was served in small plaited baskets, the fingers being used for knife and fork. The meal lasted a long time. Afterwards they sat in a circle on the ground, while a chief stood up and made a speech — one might call it an obituary oration.
He enlarged upon all the deeds and good qualities of the deceased chief. While speaking he went in one direction, with earnest face and measured tread; returning he came quickly, covering the ground in a few springs, during which he executed fighting exercises with his mere. These addresses and songs, with whistling
On March 7, my horse was caught. I thanked my hosts, and left the harbour of Kawhia laden with a rich booty of ethnographical and zoological objects. The night I spent in the bush.
The following day I sent my horse back along the track with the Maori who had accompanied me, and with Cæsar penetrated deep into the bush to look for kiwi, unfortunately without any luck. In the evening I prepared a camp under a great rata, ate my supper, and laid myself down to sleep. Small owls kept flittering round the fire, and rats nibbled away at the fragments of my meal or fought with one another. On the 9th I left my camping-ground and hunted high and low through the bush. At last, towards midday, I came on the Maori track to Hikurangi, and saw from the hoofmarks that my companion was somewhere on in front.
I sent Cæsar forward to stop him. After half an hour the dog came back, and another three-quarters of an hour brought me where the Maori, with the horses, was encamped near the track. I mounted, but we could make only slow progress through the thick pools of mud.
After riding a while we heard the beat of horses' hoofs, and voices. A party of natives came riding towards us. They were the Queen's bodyguard riding into Kawhia. As they came up to us they halted, inquired how I was, then asked if I had enough provisions with me. They gave me some beautiful
My friend,
As it was my intention to get acquainted with as much as possible of the King Country, I wanted to pay a visit to the Mokau district, where lived pakeha, and on that account I approached the King with the request to allow me to make the journey to Mokau. To my disappointment Tawhiao summarily negatived the proposal.
In the morning I rode back to Te Kopua, Owing to bad weather the creeks were so swollen that I had difficulty in fording them. Honana received me hospitably. On the 12th I went, with Cæsar, along the banks of the Moakurarua River as far as the swamps and marshes, in which the Maoris have their eelbreeding grounds. They consider the eel a great delicacy.
Thousands of eels live here; they are caught by the Maoris in eel-baskets, 3 yards long, plaited out of
On the 12th I hunted in the neighbouring swamps, where many duck, swamp-hens (pokeko), and swamplark were splashing about. According to old Maori belief the song of these larks on a war expedition was a sure sign of success. Early on the 13th I rode back to Whatiwhatihoi in order to ask King Tawhiao and Wahanui once again about going to Mokau. The King's son was ill, on which account the King was, in a bad humour, so again he summarily negatived my proposal. Wahanui and other chiefs were present, but it was only old
Afterwards
By this he meant particularly the chief,
Early on the 14th I went, together with the chief, Ngaka Avia Popatato, into the Pirongia Range. We followed a track which led us over a fern-covered hill into the bush. We had to work our way step by step through thick undergrowth and over rocks to Mount Pukomumako; then we went downwards to the Wawarautauwa, which we followed upwards for 4 miles. Masses of rock and the confusion of tree-trunks and waterfalls hindered us.
We climbed up from the right bank to the Koato Piko, which falls almost precipitously to the west, and which we therefore climbed from the eastern side. These peculiar rocks had allured me ever since I had heard an old Maori legend about them. Once, so the Maoris told me, there was a track from the Waikato which led past these rocks to Kawhia, but no Maori who had taken this track had ever reached his destination alive. Under the rocks of Koato Piko a giant lizard, Ngarara, lived in a great cavern, and he ran out upon and devoured every one who came by his lair.
A chief, who was bolder and more cunning than the rest, freed his tribe of this terror. He and his followers climbed up the east side on to Koato Piko, and loosened a great block of stone which hung on the edge of the precipice just over the dragon's cave. For bait he lowered a Maori fastened to a flax-rope down over the rocks. The monster scented his prey and came growling out of his den. At this moment the chief quickly drew the Maori up again, and at the same time let loose the block of stone, which fell on the monster, who remained lying before his lair with a battered skull. The bones of this dragon (they said) are there to this day, though a wizard kills any one who tries to go there.
In spite of this warning I climbed down a steep bank to the cave, but found no bones, only a beautiful group of dragon-palms — a rare coincidence. The leaves of these Dracænæ — called by the Maoris tohi-palms —possess flexible fibres out of which the natives weave pureke). I wore such a mat myself so long as I was living among the Maoris.
On the 15th I went with two Maori lads into the Wangapopo Range. The bush adjoins that of the Pirongia Range, and shows similar tree-growth and vegetation. I shot a few pigeons and caught a young kiwi (Apteryx oweni). I then went on into the Whanhanhakino. Whilst we were hunting our way up a hillside and forcing a path through the thick undergrowth with a slasher, the two Maori dogs began to bark, and plunged away through the bushes.
Soon I heard the snapping of teeth, and a wild boar dashed off, with the Maori hounds at his heels. The boar was standing back against an uprooted tree, and went for us as we came up with him. The two Maoris quickly clambered up into a tree, while I raised my gun. I did not get in a shot for a long time, however, for the boar attacked so viciously that I had to keep jumping out of his way. After dodging for long enough I at last got one in from a matter of a couple of yards right between the eyes. This brought him low.
Immediately one of the Maori dogs let out a piteous howl. The Maoris came clambering down from the tree, and began to cry out: 'Ngakuri, Ngakuri, Temato!' ('The dog, the dog is dead!') At first I believed I had shot it too, but when we took hold of the boar's feet and pulled the heavy body away, the dog crept limping from beneath, and I saw that the boar had only crushed him in his fall.
The Maoris were overjoyed, and began to dance and
On the 16th I went with some Maoris to the Ngakakau, a ridge on which in autumn they catch many nestors.
As decoys they use tame birds fastened with line and ring to a slanting tree or a stake. Berries are hung on the branches, and as soon as a flight comes along, the tame ones begin to entice them. The Maoris, hidden among the leaves and branches, keep dead quiet until the birds flutter down to the berries. Immediately a Maori catches a parakeet by the head, smothering him before he can utter a sound, and passes him along to a second Maori, who puts the bird into a flax-woven basket at his side. In this manner a fair number of birds may be caught without the others being scared.
On the 17th I struck out in the direction of Hikurangi, but came into valleys so completely overgrown that I was forced to climb over the undergrowth. To have attempted to hew my way through would have taken too long, Only towards evening did I reach the clearings of Hikurangi, where my good friend
He said that he had sent out Maoris to look for me, for he had been afraid that I had gone astray. I eased his mind by telling him that it was not possible to lose myself so long as I had my compass with me or could see the sun, moon, or stars, or could come upon streams or creeks. When the search-party returned, they were surprised to find me sitting in Paingahuru's hut in conversation with
On the 18th I rode back to Te Kopua. Honana told me Hemera te Rerehau's son had come from Mokau with two horses to take me back with him. He had searched for me in the bush, but as he had not been able to find me, had turned back again. I was very sorry that I had missed one more opportunity of carrying out my intention to go there. This encouraged me, however, to ask the King once more. When he refused me yet again, I went to
Yet he charged his nephew, a powerful young rangatira named Patupatu, to accompany me if I ventured on the journey. He also advised me to take no weapons. I could not very well follow this wellmeant advice, as my gun was indispensable for hunting purposes.
At this time-in the early part of 1882 — Te Wetere, Purukutu, Nuku Whenua, and Winiata, all implicated in the cruel murders of Europeans, were still at large; bands of native fanatics, excited to the point of rebellion against the whites, were massing themselves together in large numbers at Parihaka, and singing paeans to the pseudo-prophet, The King Country, 1884 edition).
So on March 20, at daybreak, our horses were saddled, and we started off on this venture into the lion's jaws. My good friends, Honana and
I was stared at with astonishment by the Maoris, for they knew that no white man was allowed there; but
We put our kit into the runanga and gave the horses over to the care of a Maori boy. Here also everybody was surprised to see a pakeha, and I was regarded by many with suspicion. They could not understand how it was possible that Tawhiao had allowed me to come into this forbidden land. The meal consisted as usual of pork and sweet potatoes; afterwards the women brought fern-grass and a mat for me. They also laid down a bed of fern-grass for Cæsar near my couch.
On the 21st, at dawn, we hit the trail to the southwest. The ground got more hilly, while here and there swamps interrupted our progress. We passed the Maori settlements of Tahuahua and Te Mira, and also tried to pass through Te Kumi, but were stopped by the chieftain, Te Manuki, who lived there, an old warrior, and a bitter enemy of the Europeans.
He asked my companion why he had brought this white man. On receiving the reply that I had permission from Tawhiao and
1 replied to him: 'All right. I am a European, a friend of the Maori, and I respect your laws. The King and his councillors have watched and tested me for a long time before they recognised me as their friend and made me a chief. If, however, you still entertain mistrust towards me, you can give me one of your people to go with me.'
At that the chief looked keenly at me, and said: 'The sooner you get away from here the better for you!'
So we rode on farther, passed the Mangapu River, and came to Kuiti, the village of the famous — and infamous — chief,
With two hundred of his warriors he had been taken prisoner and deported to the Chatham Islands. There the prisoners were well looked after, and were left in charge of a small detachment of whites, and they behaved in such an exemplary way (to all appearances) that the little English garrison never feared a surprise, although they had been warned of such a possibility.
On July 3, 1868, the schooner Rifleman dropped anchor at the Chatham Islands with a cargo of provisions. At a signal from
Well armed, the Maoris now rowed out to the schooner in a strongly manned boat, overpowered the crew, and after all the Maoris had been brought on board, compelled the English officers and sailors to set sail for Poverty Bay. The first few days they met with stormy weather and contrary winds, so
The Maoris landed at length at Whareongaonga, south of Poverty Bay. They disembarked all weapons, munitions, and provisions; then, without doing further harm, they left crew and schooner free to go where they liked.
'God has given me freedom and arms,' said
English troops and a force of friendly Maoris followed
At the same time his boldness increased, and he took the offensive, killing the Arawa chief, Te Mutu, and falling upon and murdering white settlers and children in the most horrible manner. He also slew thirty-seven natives who were friendly to the pakeha.
Later on he lost some of his best chiefs, and was forced to retreat, committing further murders in Arai and Pipiwaka. He suffered severe losses, though he himself always managed to escape. In Mohaka he murdered several European families, and all the natives in Araniki and in Huka pa.
With alternating fortunes he reached Taupo, where the chiefs received him in a friendly spirit. With these he went to the Waikato to try and get the tribes there to join forces with him. In Takongamutu he was well received by the Ngatimaniapoto chiefs, Rewi and Manga.
Rewi invited the Ngatimahutas to a great feast in order to win their support for pakeha.
He soon fell back to Tauranga by Taupo, where he was attacked by Maoris friendly to the English. Te
This defeat was decisive. Most of the tribes now fell away from him; he was followed up and beaten at every encounter. Once even he was captured, but succeeded in making his escape. Finally he got away to the Waikato, and Tawhiao allowed him to remain in the King Country on condition that he would behave himself peacefully. Ever since that time he had been living here, nursing the deepest hatred for all Europeans….
In the Maori village of Te Piha we rested for a few days, for I wanted to visit the moa-holes in the neighourhood, which the Maoris had described to me. Unfortunately my search was unsuccessful.
The chief, Wiwini, came to our tent on the 25th with several Maori ponies and with ropes. We rode together over hilly country overgrown with bush, with here and there clusters of limestone rock, and made but slow progress. In the afternoon we reached the ruined caves. I clambered down and dug, but
Continuing our journey, we passed the Mangatukura creek and the kainga of Mataruru, and came to Tihiotawa, villages of the chief, Wahanui, where I was warmly welcomed. Wahanui, who had ridden there alone, gave me a feast in old Maori style: cooked maize wrapped up in leaves and baked in hot ashes; then pigeons and tuis, plucked and then stewed, intestines and all, in the cooking-pits; also unsalted pork, potatoes, and kumaras, all served up in neatly woven little baskets. For dessert we had mealy, sweet-tasting fern-root. After the meal, a hua, the tail of a huia, was presented to me — the third I had received — and some beautifully plaited baskets.
Wahanui was the ariki of the Ngatimaniapotos, an old warrior, a man of firm character, courage, and honest opinions. His people looked up to him as to a father. Here in Mokau he had extensive lands, with herds of pure-bred cattle and horses.
Directly I had said good-bye to my friends, we left. On March 27, we rode over highland, passed the Mangakowhai creek, and came to Te Waiarua, the kainga of the chief,
My companion pointed him out to me as a notable warrior. I remarked: 'He has been, but now surely he is too old?' I was therefore surprised when the hoaryheaded old chief went into the hut and came out clad in a loin-kilt, his hair decked with feathers, and a
We remained overnight, and continued next morning along the wide and fertile valley of Mohau. We saw the villages of several Maori warriors. In Kuratahi we stopped awhile. Here the chief, Hemera te Rerehau, was awaiting my arrival. He received me with every sign of friendship.
As I have mentioned, this chief, together with a second chief, Wireama Toitoi, had been invited by Ferdinand von Hochstetter to go to Europe with the Novara. There he had mastered several languages, and had moved, in top-hat and gloves, among the most exclusive of social circles. I now found him sitting on the floor of his hut, clad in his mat, an embittered enemy of the English.
He said to me: 'Once I loved the Europeans; we gave them lands and made them our friends, but they aiways Wanted more, and strove to be our masters. When we would give them no more land, they made war on us, and took the best away. We were forced to draw back into the bush and into these hidden valleys where the soldiers could not follow. If the pakeha
Hemera te Rerehau presented me to his people, who were so astonished at seeing my white skin that they peeped down the sleeves of my coat to see if I was white there also. A Maori brought me a tui in a cage woven out of osiers, which, to my surprise, greeted me in German with 'Guten morgen. Herr!' It appeared that Hemera te Rerehau had himself taught it this sentence. Afterwards a feast of welcome was given me; there were dances, swimming races, diving, sham fights, and horse racing.
On April 2, I rode with the chief's son, a muscular, well-built lad of twenty, along the valley and into the thickly wooded Harongi Range, which was swarming with wild pigs. The ground was so uprooted by these animals that it looked as if it had been ploughed.
We rode back over the Maiirea Range. In many places the track was so steep and bad that we had to lead our horses. Towards evening we came into the Maori village, Miroahuau, which likewise belonged to Hemera. We were kindly welcomed. On the 3rd we went back to Kuratahi; and on the 6th I rode with Hemera through his own lands, first to Wairamarema, and from here to Kotukotuko, a village lying on a hillside from which one could see the country belonging to Hemera and beyond. Troops of wild horses galloped past us to the top of the hill, where they stood to watch our further movements.
Here Hemera said to me: 'If you will only stay with us, I will give you as much land as you want, and the most beautiful chiefs' daughters as your wives.'
When I thanked him, but declined, he was very hurt. He suggested that I should be mediator between the Maoris and the English, and to tell the truth I was genuinely sorry at heart at being unable to do this service for this noble native race.
Hemera gave me a huia's tail as well as a valuable lance (taiaha) decorated with the hair of the Maori dog. I received many other presents, and gave away various things in return. When early on the 8th I thanked my kind hosts and said good-bye, Hemera seemed still unhappy, for he could not understand why I would not accept his seductive offer.
I left Kuratahi accompanied by the chief's son. The first Maori village we reached was Mangahanga. There the chief, Te Kahiki, received us kindly. We afterwards passed two pas, Kahuera and Maurangowa.
My companion related to me that here formerly the Ngatimaniapotos had put up a stout defence against the Ngatiawa and Ngapuhi tribes, and beaten them in a bloody fight. In the evening we came to Korangi, Te Haere's village, where we were received most hospitably. Songs, dances, and fighting exercises occupied the evening. Here I exchanged a wooden comb, such as the Maoris wear in their hair, for a tara (greenstone pendant) and a basket made of raw flax.
The following morning we rode on again. When we came to Tihiotawa, the chief, Wiwini, would not let us ride on any farther. We went out pigeon hunting, and prepared supper from our spoils. Next day the chief took me to his tobacco plantation, which was kept carefully cultivated by the old people of the place. The leaves were 18 inches long. As soon as they were ripe enough to pluck, they were dried, rolled together, and then tightly bound with string, hung up, and stored in the pataka. The pataka is a storehouse resting on posts, which are generally richly carved, so raised as to protect the stores from rats and other harmful things.
On the nth we reached Otorohanga, and at last, on the 12th, got back to Te Kopua, where my anxious friend Honana exhibited great joy at seeing me again safe and sound. He gave me a splendid collection of Maori weapons and implements, among them a quantity of fishing-tackle.
The oldest fishing-hooks of the Maori were of wood, usually of manuka or wood from the roots of trees. As the flesh of the shark was considered a great delicacy, they naturally had some very large fish-hooks. Such hooks were fastened to shags (cormorants), and these birds then let out of the canoe tied to a string line, and allowed to swim on the surface of the sea. The sharks bit eagerly, and quickly disappeared, diving into the depths. Rapidly paying out the line, one had then to wait until the fish began to tire. Then up he would come to the surface, be drawn to the canoe, and killed. I once caught a shark like this, and when I
After capture, the shark is brought to land, cut up into long strips, and dried on the beach. At feasts, I saw whole pyramids of such sharks' flesh stacked up to a height of 10 yards. It stank horribly. The oil and gall of the shark are employed by the Maoris for the preparation of colours.
On the 14th I visited the Pirongia Range once more. We climbed along a ridge through thick bush, and came to the plateau of Rangimarama, but it was so marshy that we could find no favourable camping spot. It was essential, however, that we should camp here, and after a long search we found a hollow tree, almost lost in the embrace of a giant rata, from which we broke off dry wood enough to make a camp-fire. We made a couch of fern-grass, damp enough though that was, and then on wooden spits we roasted the pigeons we had killed.
Next day we climbed Mount Terape, where we pitched our tent for the night beside a small stream. We had a good supply of fresh water, dry wood, and enough food for a frugal meal. The night was cold, but my companion lighted two fires, which warmed the camp. Giant fern-trees roofed over our leafy couch.
From here we wandered into the Mangapapa, where I hunted with success. Then we left this magnificent forest, so many miles in circumference, and made
A few days later I rode to Whatiwhatihoi to see the King, who was deeply concerned about the severe illness of his son. Then, accompanied by two Maoris, I turned back to Alexandra, the English border township, where I invited my two companions to dine with me at the boarding-house. We were given some rather tough cutlets to eat. The Maoris watched me intently to see how I handled knife and fork, and then tried to copy me. But it was not a success, and soon deciding it was much more decent to eat Maori fashion, they took the meat up in their fingers. One of them also took a big spoonful of mustard and stuck it in his mouth. Although it must have burned him like fire, he did not turn a hair, merely saying composedly: 'This sauce is stronger than waipiro (spirits).' After completing arrangements in Alexandra for getting my things away, we went back to Te Kopua.
On the 21st I rode to Hikurangi to see dear old Te. Witiora, who had got together many interesting things for me. He had, for example, a kaitaka, a flax mat beautifully embroidered, which was a present from the King's aunt; hokaira (flax satchels) and upake (baskets); then flax in six different colours, as manufactured by the natives; some half-woven baskets; hihiwhakatauwa (the feather ornaments of a war canoe); the taiaha of the first Maori king, Potatau; tewhatewha and clubs, hemahoe, uhitauwa (tattooing instruments), stone axes, etc. I made some presents, and left the articles for the time being with my friend.
On the 23rd I went off to the great forest lying to the southward along the Marapuku River. This forest is magnificent. A deep, wonderful stillness reigns within. Only now and again when a wild pig breaks away, or a parakeet flutters across from tree to berry-laden tree, does life invade this silent paradise. But at night, when the wind is quiet, it is as still in these woods as at the lowest depths of the sea. Only if I were to make a fire would the little ' Moreporks' come, attracted by the light, and gaze in wonderment at the stranger with their yellow eyes, as much as to say, 'Who gave you the right to invade our secret fastnesses?' In many places the bush is so thick that even on the brightest days the sun cannot break through the thick canopy of creeper-laden tree-tops.
The first night in this bush I camped under a punga-punga (fern-tree). I boiled the billy for tea and roasted a few pigeons on a spit. A noise broke the stillness, and I saw a kiwi, like a little wood-sprite, with back bent and beak touching the ground, stalking silently round the fire. At my first movement he listened attentively, and the next instant had disappeared among the trees.
Next morning I penetrated still deeper, following Cæsar, who went off on a track of his own. He stopped presently before a mighty fallen tree-trunk, and there I found a kiwi hole — such a big one that I was quite unable to get within reach. So I stopped up the hole and chopped another opening farther along the trunk. I had to chop five such holes and drive the bird out Apteryx bulleri). This had taken me so long, that when I looked at my watch I found it was two o'clock, so I sat down and had lunch.
Bad weather now set in, interrupting me completely. The hillsides were so slippery that I often slipped back farther than I could go forward. I was soaked to the skin, and had nothing dry left to put on, and my pack was so heavy I could hardly move. Altogether I was not at all sorry to leave off.
On May 2, I reached Hauturu, but
On the 15th I went with Chief Poupatato into the Pirongia Range to look for para, a kind of fern which the Maoris plant in the bush. When the bulbs are ripe, they are dug up and boiled in the hangis. They taste like truffles. This chief afterwards presented me with some musical instruments — kawauwau (flutes), putorino (whistles), and poakoiko (wooden drums).
Next day I returned to Te Kopua and began to pakeha hearsay and from what I had read.
Before these Maoris I experienced that sense of shame which surely any sensitive man must feel who, after thinking like a demi-god puffed up with false arrogance, and filled with the darkness of the schools, at last comes face to face with the secrets and eternal truths of Nature. For as soon as the significance of these secrets steals upon him, all his boasted knowledge dwindles to naught, leaving him with a profound respect for Nature's eternal laws, and nothing but contempt for the folly of a spiritual drift which thinks in its pride that it 'indeed knows much, but would like to know all.' Quotation from Faust.
That Europeanism which has conquered the whole world, and which calls the native races that are so near to God 'wild,' I felt to be a disease from which these 'wild' men and these 'wild animals' wanted to heal me. I felt myself guilty also of the great crime which Europe had done these 'wild' people, who were really the better men, when they took their land from them, their customs, and their freedom. I heard the sound of the saws in the kauri forests, which in a single hour cut down the giant tree which had withstood the storms of the ages; and I saw in the spirit, in the mind's eye, this last free Maoriland falling under the machine of Europe.
What cannibalism could not in centuries destroy, European civilisation had almost succeeded in destroying in a single generation.
Hard it was for me, very hard, to say good-bye to these simple folk. All the inhabitants of the village sat around me in a circle and wept. It was a real, not a conventional, tangi.
I was glad to be able to make the acquaintance of the Maoris while still to some extent in their original state; and gradually in my intercourse with them my mind formed a picture of the many-sided diversity of a disappearing mode of life which I was never to forget. Since my day, the Maoris who live on in New Zealand have become through and through dark-skinned Europeans.
I eagerly seized what opportunities I had, while in the heart of Maoriland, to be present at their gatherings and koreros, and was able to spin together from the narratives of the chiefs and from my own observations a brief epitome of the life of this finest of all the Polynesian tribes.
The chiefs told me the Maoris are a mixed race; tradition has it that their forefathers originally came to New Zealand (Aotea Roa) from Hawaiki in thirteen double canoes. They landed at different spots in the North Island, and found them inhabited by dark-coloured men with curly black hair and small of stature. These original inhabitants — they called them Ngatimaimai — were found to be good husbandmen and hunters, but poor warriors. So the Maoris conquered them, killed the men, and took possession of the women. This union would account for the three differentiated types I noticed.
Traditions lead only these few centuries back, but the holy bird, Korotangi, about which learned argument was raging when I left New Zealand, may perhaps prove a link with a still more distant past. The Korotangi is the figure of a small sea-gull carved out of dark green serpentine. It is said to have been brought from Hawaiki on one of the traditional canoes, the Tainui, but it does not exhibit the same style and ornamentation as other Maori works of art. It resembles rather an old Egyptian stone sculpture.
Formerly it was prized by the Maoris as a sacred relic, and entrusted to a special guardian, who only disclosed its whereabouts to his successor. Perhaps through the sudden death of such a one, the bird got lost, and thereafter great sadness reigned over all Maoriland. The loss was made known by songs of lament, which spread over both Islands.
One day, while engaged in grubbing up a tree, a Maori found the precious bird. Joy was universal. To give but one instance of this, the Arawa of the
An English lady, Mrs. Wilson, finally acquired the relic, and at the time of my stay I obtained permission from the then owner, Major Wilson, to take a plaster cast of it, which is now in the Natural History Museum in Vienna. It is a very difficult matter to estimate the probable age of the bird.
Fairly exact aids to the counting of the generations of the Maoris are the staffs (he rakau papatupuna) of the tohungas. These are hardwood sticks running from a thick end to a point, in which thick notches were cut side by side until the stick looked something like a saw. The priest (tohunga) of every tribe kept it in his possession,, and whenever the head chief died, a tally was cut. The age of a tribe can therefore be approximately determined by the number of notches, which take us back some fifteen or twenty generations.
Writing was unknown to the Maori, but they were well acquainted with the primitive ways of imparting information, e.g. knot-signs … secret signs of the different tribes similar to writing.
The religion of the Maori was not uniform, different tribes having special cults. Still it is interesting that all possessed in common the idea of the soul, the belief in its pre-existence, and in a life after death.
Here are a few brief examples told me from their abundant and thought-provoking mythology.
A story of the creation tells us that the god, Kote Ema, wished to perfect mankind. He created Kote Aitua) remained. Since that time there has been death and illness among men.
According to another legend, Rangi, the heaven, begat by Papatuanuku, the earth, six sons. They were clasped between the heaven, their father, and the earth, their mother. The eldest, Aitua, disclosed to his brothers that he had seen the light which their father was hiding from them. He urged his brothers to kill their father; but instead they determined to separate their father and mother. They propped their heads against the earth, and their feet against the heaven, and parted them with their strength. The sons remained firmly on the earth, and so it was light.
The myths dealing with immortality have much in common with our belief in heaven, purgatory, and hell. After death, so the Maoris believe, the soul journeys into the Rainga, the underworld. It lies northwards from the North Island. The souls of the departed on the way thither spring over a rocky cliff into the sea, through which they arrive in the Rainga. The Rainga is divided into three parts. The lowest is dark … there go the souls of the miscreants; they must hunger and wither. In the middle part it is still dark, but the souls receive nourishment, and through the prayers of the tohungas can be freed into the upper part. This part is filled with light, and is the abode of incessant
Among a tribe in the south I found the following original cult ceremony:
The priest stuck a staff, out of the upper end of which the figure of an idol was carved, by its sharp end in the ground. He then fastened a string of flax round the neck of the god, and held the string in his hand. Before he began to pray, the priest tugged at the string in order to make the god aware that he was about to pray, and after each prayer he stuck a little stick in the earth so that he could keep count of the number of prayers said. Sometimes the god answered him, quite audibly too, the priest showing good form as a ventriloquist, as I soon discovered.
The Maori world of the immortals was quite as large and material as that of the ancient Greeks. Every animal, every plant, had its own creator…. Pawi, for example, was the god of the sweet potato (kumara); Papa, the god of the kiwi; Tangaroa, the god of fishes and of the sea. Also the souls of the departed were believed to resort at night to the dwelling-places of the living; the good ancestors would protect, and the bad do them harm.
Naturally the Maoris were very superstitious; they had so many good and bad demons whom they must not offend. Their greatest dread was of lizards, especially of the tuatara.
If a lizard ran out at a Maori and he did not
The horror they had of these animals expresses itself in a legend. A long time ago the Maoris ate great lizards as delicacies. A chief's wife who was pregnant asked her husband one day to go to the bush and fetch her a really big lizard. The chief went, but ordered his wife to eat nothing until he came back. The woman, however, became so hungry that she ate, in spite of his orders. Owing to her disobedience, when the chief came back with a number of lizards, they slipped out of the cage and killed him.
The conception of tapu, which played such a significant rôle in the conduct of state and family life, has been often described. I need only say that it was still a potent force, and that on occasion even my luggage was declared tapu as a precaution against thieving.
I had frequent occasion to admire the wonderful carvings fashioned by the Maoris with primitive instruments of stone. Most splendidly decorated of all were the posts and beams of dwelling and meeting-houses, patakas or storehouses, and the ornamental parts of the old war canoe; but weapons, tools, and articles of adornment were also richly carved, and I have made a particular note here of two rare and original pieces, both toys.
The one, now in the possession of the Imperial Museum in Vienna, shows two persons, a man and a woman, engaged in fire-making, old style, since they are rubbing a pointed stick of hardwood into a groove of tinderwood to start a glow. The second is the kahu, or flying hawk, shaped out of flax-leaves, of which I have a picture.
I will neglect the marvellous building and carving technique of the Maori to describe the launching of the last Maori canoe to be fashioned entirely by primitive means in accordance with time-honoured custom. This I had the good fortune to witness while I was in the King Country.
When it was ready, great preparations were made for the consecration feast, to which I was invited. On the morning of the feast, the ariki,
A party of natives then seized on behind us, and the procession moved off,
Here we were met by the girls and the women, who came, gaily painted with ochre and adorned with flowers, singing and dancing, to meet us. A halt was made before the chief's hut. The Maoris seated themselves on the ground in a circle, and each received a piece of roast pork garnished with sweet potatoes, set before us in little kits plaited out of tafra leaves; and a piece of uncooked meat in a flax-basket (kit) to take with him. Before my place of honour, and as a special surprise, stood a basket full of fine apples!
In order to show my gratitude I offered some to the chiefs, and as no one paid any attention, I laid an apple before each of them. I did not know then that among the Maoris it was considered a grave insult to offer a present to other guests, and was surprised when they silently put the fruit back in the basket. To show I meant no ill, I explained our European custom to them, but even then none of them would accept an apple.
After the feast the whole company started off again.
Tattooing was usually begun in the twentieth year. The priest of the tribe was the operator. The pattern was first indicated with charcoal; then the priest cut this in with a lance-like instrument of bone. At a single sitting only one or two ornaments were completed, further tattooing being then left until the scars had healed.
During this painful procedure, in order to incite the sufferer to courage and stoicism, the assembled members of the family sang songs, of which the following is an example: 'We sit together and look at the lines; they are curved as the foot of the lizard! Be patient! the maidens will gather food for thee. For the man who knows vengeance, let the lines be plain; for the man who knows not vengeance, let them be beautiful! Make them curved and leave them open! Our song shall soothe thy pain!'
The open wounds were sprinkled over with powder, either powdered kauri gum (Dammara australis), or powdered Aweta caterpillars.
Poetical gifts were held in high esteem by this impressionable race; so much so that one of the duties of every chief was to qualify himself as poet and orator. He was expected to deliver, in metrical language, the whole tradition of his tribe, and at all debates he was expected to express his views in perfect language.
As an example of the Maori language, I will quote the following letter, sent to me by King Tawhiao, together with the poem included in it — an old chaunt sung or chaunted after a farewell speech when a chief returns to his own home after visiting another chief:
' Whatiwhatihoe,Oketopa, 20/82.'
Kia Raiheke,'
Tena ra koe, Kua tae mai tau reta mihi mai kia au, me tau pene aroha i tuku mai nei kia au.'
E hoa tena ra koe kua mea nei ki te hoki atu ki tou Kainga. Ae, e hoa, e whaka pai ana ano hoki ahau ki tau kupu i mea nei koe ka tae mai ano koe kia kite taua i mua o tou haerenga atu ki tou Kainga.'
Ae, e pai ana te haeremai Kia Kite taua, Ka hoki atu ai Koe Ki tou Kainga.'
Heoi nga Kupu, he Waita aroha tenei naku Kia Koe: Translation:
Whatiwhatihoe,
October20, 1882.'To Reischek, greetings! I have received your letter of good wishes and your gift of a pen. O, Friend, greetings to you! You say that you are thinking of returning to your Homeland. Good, my Friend, I approve of your resolve, and the promise of your words, that you will come once again to see me before you leave. Yes, it is good that you will come, that we may see each other again before you return to your own country. I will end these words with a chaunt of friendship for you.'
Tawhiao's Chaunt of Farewell.
Mrs. Staples Brown, to whose kindness I am indebted for the translation of the letter from her native language, writes: 'I am sorry it is not possible for me to translate the chaunt, as most of the words used in these old chaunts are lost.'—Ed.
To the Maori folk, life was once a continual alternation between fight and bacchanal. Feasting occupied the foremost place in the tribal scheme of life. Feasts were held upon the arrival of guests, after successful hunting or a rich catch of fish, at the launching of a war canoe, after a victory, and even to celebrate the event of death. The Maori regarded hospitality as a sacred duty. As among the old Teutonic tribes, mountains of provisions were heaped up for the guests, and the feast would only come to an end when the tribe was eaten quite out. They would then often move along to the next village and continue celebrating in the same manner.
Dancing, games, and sport played an important rôle at these gatherings. The warlike Maori loved, above all things, the rivalry of sport. Fighting according to
The head chief (ariki) led the tribe like a father. Besides being head priest, he had to see that the fortified places and the plantations were kept in good order, and that the hunting and the catching of fish were carried out at the proper season. He it was who called the meetings and fixed the times of the feasts. It was part of his duty also to see the young men properly trained in the art of war, in hunting, fishing, and navigation, and in the arts of carving and rhetpric.
I found the chiefs throughout full of fatherly affection for their tribe, the foremost and bravest in battle, just and dignified men; and I nowhere observed signs of sponging or other misuse of power. The chief was supported in his office as head priest by the professional priests of the second and third order, the tohungas and the horomatuas. The tohunga was 'medicine man' and magician.
Propriety and order reigned also in the family life. The Maoris were polygamous, though it was usually only the chiefs who had a large number of wives, the ordinary members of the tribe contenting themselves with one, or at the most two. King Tawhiao had six wives.
The head wife of a chief had to be of noble birth; only her first-born child inherited the rank of chieftain, all her other children, as well as those of other wives, remaining ordinary members of the tribe. It is interesting that the rank of chief also devolved on a girl if she happened to be the first-born.
Just as the ariki was father, so his head wife was mother of the tribe. It was her duty to see that the maidens were educated in the arts of plaiting mats, of cooking and household work, and to superintend the other duties of the women. The women of lower rank had to give her their assistance.
On getting married, a piece of land and slaves were assigned to the girls by their own tribes. Should a man wish to marry a girl from another tribe, he had to attach himself to the tribe to which the girl belonged, or they both had to migrate and look for new land, where they would found a new tribe.
Children were often engaged to one another by their parents. In cases such as this, if, on reaching a ripe age, a girl should leave her intended husband and go away with another man, then the legitimate husband had the right to confiscate the property of the other and to fetch back the maiden. In earlier times the seducer was killed. But if the woman were badly treated by her husband, then the tribe took her away from him.
As a sign of courtship, the tihihihi, a piece of flax with open knots, was employed. If a Maori were pleased with a maiden, he would look inquiringly into her eyes; if she smiled, he would take her by the hand and stroke her lightly on the palm; if she made any reply to this sign he would then hold out the knotted flax, the tihihihi. If she drew the loose knots tightly together, it meant that she was ready to become his wife; but if she untied the knots and threw away the piece of flax, then the wooer knew he had been refused.
There were sometimes cases of abduction (with the consent of the girl), but these were sanctioned by the tribe if the abductor paid some compensation (utu) to the girl's parents, in the shape of mats, provisions, and so on.
The different tribes settled in villages and pas. These consisted of a number of scattered huts and storehouses. In the centre of the village was always situated the usually wonderfully carved communal meeting-house (runanga or wharepuni), and before it was the village place (mare). Round about the village, and surrounded by high palisades, were the plantations. These were looked after with particular care, and kept well concealed from the prying eyes of stranger tribes. It was considered an affront if a stranger asked a chief after the state of the harvest, because he would suspect behind the question some intention to attack him by surprise.
Before they came in contact with Europeans, the Maoris planted principally kumara, or sweet potato (Ipomoea chrysorrhiza), taro (Caladium esculentum), para (Marathia salicina), an edible fern-root, and hue (Curcurbita), a kind of pumpkin, from the shell of which were fashioned drinking-vessels. Later, they took to planting potatoes, maize, tobacco, and other useful crops introduced by the Europeans.
While I was in New Zealand there were no signs of anything suggesting the least shortage of food or of the common necessities of life. Countless wild cattle, pigs, sheep, and native birds were living in the bush, the rivers and the sea provided their rich booty, and
The Maoris had a peculiar taste in the preparation of food, what they loved most of all being things half rotten. Rancid potatoes, maize soaked in water until fermentation had set in, which furthermore stank horribly, were cooked as a special delicacy. Wild pigeons and other birds were eaten, including the entrails. Other delicacies, the dearly loved flesh of shark and eel, when hung up to dry around the huts, filled the air with a frightful stench.
Before the arrival of the pakeha with his 'gift' of alcohol, the Maori knew of only one intoxicating drink, made from the fermented juice of the tutu berry (Coriaria sormentosa), which had a sweet taste.
The Maoris were a warlike race. The young men were reared like Spartans. The handling of club and spear was learnt according to fixed rules, and personal courage was considered an implicit duty. Inhuman as the causes of the countless war expeditions of the Maori tribes must appear to us Europeans, yet, generally speaking, they detested in the extreme any cowardly attack on the defenceless.
I witnessed one fight in the north part of the North
The chief causes of fighting, besides cannibalism, were land and the robbery of women, and revenge for the insulting or killing of members of one tribe by another. In these last-named cases the declaration of war was preceded by a debate. If the parties could not come to an agreement, war was declared by means of recognised words and signs. The challenging chief would step up to his opponent, distort his face into a grimace, roll his eyes, and stick out his tongue. If the opponent also stuck out his tongue, it was a sign that the challenge was accepted.
On returning from a war expedition the ariki would offer up a prayer to the war god, Tu.
The warriors now danced a dance called the tupeke, during which they again struck their thighs with the palms of their hands. The slaves placed three ovens before them, in which the hearts of the fallen enemy chieftains were cooked. As soon as they were ready, the ariki offered a piece to the god of war, and the remainder was eaten. After the meal the ariki lifted the tapu, the untouchableness, from the warriors, and the tangi, the lament for the fallen, began.
The bodies of the chiefs were set up in a sitting position, clothed in their most beautiful mats, and decorated with all their adornments. They were left thus until decomposition set in.
It sometimes occurred that the widows of those who had fallen in battle would fall upon the
At the time of my stay among the Maoris, burials were conducted in the following manner:
When a chief died, he was put on a bier in a sitting position, clothed in beautiful flax mats. His hair was adorned with feathers, and his stone axe (mere) was placed in his hand. His other weapons and articles of finery were laid at his side. In this position and thus clad, the body was left until decomposition set in. During this time tangis were held: that is, mourning ceremonies, to which friends and relatives came to show their esteem for the departed.
The widow received the arrivals before her hut with songs of lament, in the course of which she executed various movements with her arms and with the upper part of her body as a sign of her grief, and in her song she glorified the good qualities of the dead. The arrivals seated themselves around her in a semicircle, bodies bent, and let out a melancholy howling. Then a chief or an old chief's wife would stand up, go through the same movements as the widow during her salutation, and answer her with another song of lament.
Nose rubbing, the proper form of greeting, followed, all the assembled taking part. Thereafter the corpse, together with all objects which had been used by the dead during his illness, was carried to a hole, or laid in a coffin prepared out of an old canoe or a hollowed-out tree-trunk, or buried in a hollow tree.
There the body would remain until the flesh was completely decomposed. This finished, the priests
This ceremony was solemnly celebrated, all the friends of the deceased being invited. Upon the arrival of these guests, further tangis were held.
Thereupon began the bone-scraping, in which all took part. The bones were scraped with knives of obsidian, then rolled in a mat, and placed by the tohunga in a hole or the hollow of a tree.
These abodes of the dead were tapu, and also the tohunga, for a period of from four to six weeks afterwards, according to the rank of the dead chief. During this time, food was given to the tohunga by the old women by means of sticks of wood or mussel shells. The place in which the chief had died was deserted, and in many cases also burned down. This place also became tapu.
The natives told me they had frequently burnt dead bodies or thrown them into an active volcano. The Maoris of to-day bury their dead according to European custom, preferably in sand.
In earlier times the corpses of the more prominent chiefs were mummified. In 1875, old settlers in the northern part of the North Island told me that when they first came to New Zealand some fifty years before, they used to find mummified bodies in holes and also in trees, preserved in a sitting position.
This information interested me exceedingly, and I sought to get more information from the Maoris themselves; but at first they refused to speak of it.
The intestines were removed, and the pit of the stomach stuffed with dry seaweed. Then the body was tightly bound up in a sitting position, smoked, and dried in the sun. The brain and the more fleshy parts were removed, and the head steamed in a cooking-pit, and afterwards smoke-dried.
I searched hill and wood, high and low, for signs of these mummies, but for a long time had no success. It was in Aratipu, in some hidden caves, that I found for the first time the remains of mats, a mouldering stretcher, articles of adornment, single skulls, and bones — but no mummy! Only at last, when I got right into the heart of Maoriland, the King Country, did I succeed in finding any.
Two Maoris, who had already become sufficiently Europeanised to be willing to renounce their national and religious principles for gold, led me one night to a cave near Kawhia, There I found four mummies, of which two were in a state of perfect preservation.
The undertaking was a dangerous one, for discovery might have cost me my life. In the night I had the mummies removed from the spot and then well hidden; during the next night they were carried still farther away, and so on, until they had been brought safely over the boundaries of Maoriland. But even then I kept them cautiously hidden from sight right up to the time of my departure from New Zealand. Now both these ancestors of the Maori adorn the ethnographical
Several interesting cases of cannibalism were related to me. On the Kaipara River lived the chief, Kantatu Winga. He received one day a visit from a friendly chief. As there was no meat for the entertainment of his guest, he ordered one of his wives to fix up a hangi, or cooking-pit.
When the woman had got ready the hangi, her husband ordered her to bring along their two-year-old child. Bitterly weeping, she brought it to the chief, but he, tearing it out of her arms, killed it, and ordered the mother to put it in the hangi.
Then he ordered her to prepare another and a larger hangi. When she had finished this, he gave her a blow on the back of the skull with his greenstone club, which stretched her dead on the ground, whereupon he pushed her body into the hangi with his foot, and ordered the hangi to be covered with earth. When the body was cooked it was eaten by the chiefs. After this gruesome meal they danced a war dance.
Another case of cannibalism took place in the village where Missionary Baker lived. He had taken a Maori girl, the twelve-year-old daughter of a chief, as nursemaid in his house. One day her father came and asked if he might take her away for a brief holiday, as a feast was being celebrated in his village.
She was given permission to go, and after several days returned. Her whole character now seemed changed, for whereas formerly she had been shy and quiet, she was now continually in a boisterous humour.
The poor fellow had had his hands bound together, and had been forced to seat himself on the ground while a stone-axe was solemnly handed over to the girl. With this she had killed the sacrifice with a blow on the back of the skull, for which deed the Maoris held her now in high esteem. The missionary, on hearing this strange confession, dismissed her instantly.
Chief Pairama told me that in Aratapu, where to this day the remains of a great Maori fortress are to be found, the inhabitants of the pa once received a visit from a 'friendly' tribe. Immediately the cooking-places were fitted up and the food prepared. When, however, the guests saw they were to get no human meat, they fell upon their hosts, killed most of them, and ate them.
One explanation of the causes of cannibalism was given me by
'I feel sorry that in this Colony there is not more interest taken in Nature and its resources; I do not mean that people should follow it as a pursuit, but more as a recreation, in leisure time. Through the extermination of forests, birds are forced to disappear; and it is a waste of timber, where the soil is too poor for agriculture and pasture, to burn and destroy the young trees for the purpose of getting a few large ones, or kauri-gum, all of which might be secured without this wanton destruction, and thus save the bush and its useful inhabitants, of which we could learn a great deal by observation.' — Andreas Reischek (Address to Auckland Institute).
The most profound of all my New Zealand experiences was my stay in the King Country. There I not only won an insight into a disappearing race culture, but was also able to study the indigenous animal world still living undisturbed in an extensive world of bush. Perhaps few naturalists have had this good fortune either before or since my time, and so I bring together lovingly a few of my observations of some of the most noteworthy types.
One of the oddest birds peculiar to New Zealand is certainly the kiwi, of which four species are known to me. An ostrich-like bird the size of a large domestic fowl, it is compact of body, and possesses powerful claw-armed feet and a long sabre-shaped bill, at the
When I arrived in New Zealand it was not known with any certainty how the sex of this rare bird could be distinguished, and still less was known of its habits and mode of life. My several years' observation of this animal, on which I spent much time and money, made me at last thoroughly acquainted with all its idiosyncrasies. For one thing; I found that the call of the female differs from that of the male, the former resembling the croak of a frog, whereas the latter utters a shrill pipe, something like 'Kiwi-i-i!'
A solitary unsociable hermit, the kiwi roams nearly the whole year through the bush. By day he sleeps in holes or burrows mostly under tree-trunks, and after sunset he stalks out in search of food. He carefully strides out into the dusk along well-trodden paths, head bent low, so that his line smell-organs just graze the ground.
These tracks, some 11 inches wide, are laid out with such care as to give those parts of the woods in which the kiwi lives the appearance of a miniature town-planning system. During the rainy season, and also when the miro berries (Podocarpus ferruginea) are ripe, the kiwi wanders long distances.
This strange bird only becomes comparatively sociable for a short time during the mating season. From a well-hidden spot, one cold moonlight night
After a three-hour wait I heard the shrill pipe of a male. The croaking voice of the female replied from close by. Soon the male bird stepped into the open space before me. From not far off the pipe of a second male now broke the stillness. Excitedly, with head erect, the one I was watching drew up and answered the call, and now followed pipe upon pipe, until the rival stepped into the arena. Heads bent, they prepared for the fray, uttering clacking noises the while; and then they sprang at one another. The fight was a combination of sabre duel and boxing match. They attacked each other ferociously with their bills, so that the feathers flew from their breasts; then they rose up on one leg, letting fly at one another with their sharp-clawed feet. In their excitement they pawed the ground and uttered grunting noises. The first arrival proved the stronger, and soon the other took advantage of a favourable moment and made off.
The victor' let out a cry of triumph, and the female kiwi, who had been watching the fight, now showed her admiration of his prowess by surrendering herself to him. Thereupon endearments began, the loving female patting the feathers of her mate in order with her beak. Then alternately they appeared to bore into the moss for food, and to scratch up the ground with their feet.
The honeymoon is spent in a hole, and night after night the pair will go out together looking for food.
After the female has laid her egg, the male bird takes over the business of hatching, while the female sleeps alone in a neighbouring hole. The young are soon able to take care of themselves, and the old ones trouble little about them. Indeed I never saw kiwi protecting or looking after their young.
I kept three kinds in captivity; all became quite tame, and the males would even eat out of my hand. If I did not give him his food at the proper time, one of these birds was in the habit of chattering with his bill, and jumping and striking at me with his feet. He would frequently fight with Cæsar.
The Maoris held the kiwi in high estimation as an object of the chase. The feathers were twined into the chiefs' mats, which were valued as highly as those of the Maori dog. This rare and unfortunate bird, which can neither run fast nor defend itself successfully against the ravages of man, and is indeed at home only in the sacred loneliness of the bush, is fast dying out. The European and his attendant dogs and cats destroy him and take from him his magnificent forest.
One similar in habits to the kiwi, and in his singular character a true New Zealander, is the great green earth or owl-parrot (Stringops habroptilus), the kakapo of the Maori. This bird has a more owl-than parrotlike appearance, is somewhat larger than the kiwi, and is also unable to fly, his breast-bones being flat
Should two male kakapos chance to meet, on their travels, a battle royal is sure to take place, fought but with beak and claws, the death of the weaker sometimes resulting. Even during the tenderness of the mating season the male bird can hardly restrain himself from biting his mate to death! Of real wooing or of communal life, this strange bird has no knowledge whatever. I am of opinion that the male takes no part in the hatching or rearing of the chicks, as in all cases the female was, the sole attendant I, saw from first to last. I did not see a male near a breeding burrow, nor did I, in any single instance, find two grown-ups in one burrow, though I have seen them in pairs on their nocturnal rambles.
The Maoris maintain that the kakapo breeds only once every five years, when the berries of the tafra (Ereycinetta) ripen, and perhaps there is some foundation for this. I myself, for example, in the year 1884, found eggs and young in various stages of development, whereas in the following three years. I saw no signs of breeding whatsoever in precisely the same neighbourhood.
The kakapo also lays down pathways through the woods. I hid myself many a time near such tracks, and in such a position that I could see every bird as it passed along. It was very amusing to watch the wanderer coming towards me feeding, stepping daintily, snapping off every root that crossed his path, and throwing to one side every stone or stick in his
They leave their burrows after sunset, and the moon is their sun. If they cannot return to their own homes before daylight, they seek shelter in any unoccupied burrow, for they travel long distances. They are very gluttonous, consuming large quantities of grass, grass-seed, and other Alpine vegetation. In July they are in splendid condition, those found having as much as two inches of fat on them. They used frequently to plunder the vegetable garden I had established near my lonely camp, and one morning I actually came across one asleep under a cabbage. He had so gorged himself during the night that he could go no farther. I was much surprised to find in the intestines of the old birds, parasites from 6 inches to 2. feet long, some knotted together and single ones sometimes tied in three or four knots.
In the spring, when the sun begins to shed its warmth, kakapos emerge from their holes and select
The Alpine kakapo — so called by me, as I have never found this beautiful bird anywhere except on the high mountains — is considerably larger and much brighter than the ordinary kakapo. The young are much duller in plumage than their parents.
Another roguish type is the wood-hen (Ocydromus) the weka of the Maori. I observed six varieties that were already known, and also discovered an unknown variety on Stewart Island. In size and appearance the Ocydromus australis is similar to the kiwi, but is able to fly, and is far more cunning and able to take care of itself, and also far more sociable than either kiwi or kakapo.
I saw them mostly at dusk, roaming along stony river-beds, the dead trees swept down by floods affording them hiding-places. I have also seen them on the seashore and on the mountains as high as 3000 feet above sea-level, but scarce.
The confidingness, indeed the cool, obtrusive cheek and thieving propensities of this bird, are well known. I experienced them often, not always in ways I was able to appreciate. During my stay in the Sounds they
I always made it a rule not to shoot or molest birds near my camp, so as to observe them and listen to their sweet songs. At Dusky Sound one shining black weka would enter my tent morning and evening without ceremony, uttering a shrill whistle of one note, and demand biscuit, which she would throw on the ground till it broke. On a second expedition to the same gorge, to my astonishment my lady friend put in an appearance again. I remember also how, one September, during a severe thunder-and snow-storm, one of the black wood-hens took shelter in the hut in which I was working, and stayed with me for a considerable time.
Sometimes they followed me long distances to camp and carried everything away they could manage such as spoons, knives, candles, etc. Once in the bush I spread out my lunch on a tree-trunk, and was getting ready to eat when I chanced to see a beautiful hawk flying overhead, which I got up and followed. On my return I found the 'table' was bare; a weka had stolen bread, butter — and knife!
Another time, when chopping wood in the bush, I took off my waistcoat and put it to one side. I heard a noise, and looked up to find a weka had pulled, my watch out of the pocket and was dragging it away. Fortunately the watch was on a good stout strap, which got entangled in a branch, so that the weka had all her trouble in vain. I watched the thief for a long time, tickled to death, and then hunted her away.
If they knew they were being followed, they showed incredible cunning. They would fool poor Cæsar for hours through the bush, disappearing first into one hole, and then, whilst the dog dug busily to get at them, out they would steal by another. If Cæsar set off in pursuit, away they darted in a zigzag run, round and round the tree-trunks, like a game of hide-and-seek.
Another singular bird of Maoriland is the sacred huia (Heteralocha scutirostris), whose black tail-feathers edged with white are worn by the chiefs in their hair as the symbol of rank. This bird is held in such honour that a whole tribe, the Ngatihuias, is named after it.
The peculiarity about this bird is that Nature has made male and female so that they cannot live apart from one another. The male has a strong, short, wedge-shaped beak with which, like the woodpecker, it hacks holes in the trunk of a tree. The beak of the female is, on the contrary, long, thin, and curved, and its special use is to draw out the worms as with a pair of pincers from the holes the male has bored. The food thus obtained is honourably divided, both male and female being compelled to live in peaceful co-partnership if they do not wish to starve; though here again a misogynist might maintain that this is one more instance where the male does all the work, and the female gets most of the fun.
The beautiful New Zealand paradise-duck (Casarca variegata) is another bird with idiosyncrasies of its own. While the female guards her young, the male
Once I found a male bird lying stretched out motionless before me as if dead. When I moved nearer, however, he jumped up and fled. After a good look round the neighbourhood, I found the nest deserted. The drake's pretence had kept me off long enough for the mother duck to carry her brood to a place of safety.
The tenderest and most wonderful of all singers of the New Zealand bush is the bell-bird (Anthornis melanura). These were then becoming rather rare, and to be found generally only on some of the smaller islands of the coast.
On Hauturu I observed some of the last of these sweet songsters. Near my nikau-palm hut, in the middle of the lonely island, from ten to twenty of these coloured birds would give me a royal concert morning and evening. By a tap with its beak the bird sitting on the highest branch gave the signal to commence. Then the chorus started in unison, to be brought to a pause again by another stroke of the choirmaster's beak.
The morning and evening song consisted of three different sounds, and the harmony is like the light notes of little silver bells. Quite different is the song of the bell-bird by day; then it is a warble, like the note of our yellowhammer.
In another place I have already given an account of my search after one of the rarest of New Zealand birds, the ti-ora (Pogonornis cincta).
The magnificence, the stately luxury of the plant world of the Maoriland bush filled me with constant wonder and delight.
From the north, intermingled with the mighty domes of the kauri woods, it spreads itself out like a giant carpet of endless primeval forest, woven of palms and deciduous pine trees, over the whole of Maoriland.
Among others the nikau-palm (Areca sapida) is a very useful tree for the explorer. The stem provides the best material for building his hut, and the leaves form a good roof, while the pith affords nourishment. In swampy places and along creeks the wonderful tree-ferns spread out their light green veil-like cover. Red spruce, and the red-berry-bearing miro (Podo-carpus ferruginea) form a great part of the remaining forest.
On account of its extremely hard wood the manuka or tea-tree (Leptospermum scopiorum) is in great demand among the Maoris for the fashioning of weapons. Its young shoots were once used as a substitute by the early colonists for tea, on which account it gets its name.
Of the cabbage-like plants the most important is the lily-flax (Phormium tenex), the raw material of all the wonderful woven work (mats, etc.) of the Maori. It is a mighty plant with robust dark green leaves, and dark red blossoms which contain much honey, on which account it is much visited by birds and insects.
In March 1884 I went back from Auckland to the South Island. The coast steamer stopped at all the larger places, and I had time to watch the coasts and mountains slipping by me with which I had become so familiar during recent years. I lived those years over again in my imagination.
My preliminary goal was Wellington. Afterwards I entertained the more ambitious plan of exploring the fjords of the West Coast, which even at that time were still for the most part virgin country, uninhabited and unexplored by white man or Maori, where I expected to make some interesting ornithological finds. The islands of the South also attracted me — those bird-inhabited isles lying towards the Antarctic.
Until I reached Wellington, however, these schemes were but castles in the air. For their realisation much more money than I could raise seemed necessary.
There was, however, one power in Wellington that could fulfil my wishes, so on my arrival I went to see Sir James Hector, Director of the Colonial Museum, and in him I found a true friend and patron. He had heard of my earlier work, and had been kind enough to refer to my undertakings in public lectures and papers. Thanks largely to him, there were already some signs of public interest in the work that was being done for the museums of the country.
It was Sir James I had to thank for turning my dream into reality. Through him the New Zealand Government consented to let me travel on one of its two steamers — either the Stella or the Hinemoa — which was told to dump me and my stores at any place I might suggest, and to fetch me again. These Government steamers were manned by experienced officers and men, better qualified to help me than any other.
I had a look at the fine town of Wellington, and visited a few well-known men. Mr. Kirk, the Director to the Botanical Garden, took me to see the Parliament Buildings, where I was astonished at the up-to-dateness of the accommodation.
Dobson was with me. He was anxious not to be left behind, and I valued him as a real friend, always ready to partake of my joys and sorrows, so I was quite ready to put up with his many whims.
At Napier on the way down he had disappeared, and I saw no sign of him on the ship all the way to Wellington. A few days after our arrival, however, when I went aboard the Wairarapa again, the crew told me that he had been seen on deck, and was looking for me. While I was speaking to one of them, Dobson came up to me, covered with soot. I gave him a hand with tidying up, and then we took our things ashore. Next day, as he seemed to be suffering from melancholia, I persuaded him to take a trip round the town, which seemed to cheer him up.
On the 25th I went to see the Marine Minister, Leod, who was most kind, and told me that I could leave with the Stella three days later.
It was here that I met the great ornithologist,
After dinner we had a long talk about our journeyings and observations of New Zealand birds. One immediate result of our talk was that I became his permanent correspondent. He was then at work on the production of his great book on the birds of New Zealand, and a great number of my own observations are included in that work.
It was late that night before I left his hospitable roof. Next morning Dobson and I visited the Botanical Garden and Mount Victoria. We enjoyed a magnificent view over the town and harbour, which thoroughly delighted my friend. Afterwards we went to Lake Wairarapa, where we saw innumerable waterfowl; and I was sorry I could not stay any longer among such pleasant surroundings.
The Stella left soon after midday on March 28, and by evening had reached Cape Campbell, where there is a lighthouse. It was too rough to land, however, so we steamed on to Cloudy Bay.
The Wairau Plain extended before us. Not far away lay the pretty little town of Blenheim, ringed round by hilly farms and scattered sheep-stations.
The weather bettered on the 29th, and we were able to land at Cape Campbell, to leave petrol and stores.
Our second station, Cape Flaxbourne, lay 9 miles to the south. Only ships of small tonnage are able to anchor among these rocks. The neighbourhood is mountainous. Twenty-three miles southwards we came to the mouth of the Waiautoa River, which flows through good pasture-land. Fishing stations lay along the coast. The snow-capped Kaikouras came in sight, and we soon approached East Head and the town of Kaikoura, which captivated me. Sheep were grazing on the grassy foothills, and the snow range loomed behind. Still farther south was Amuri Bluff and the Wairau River, then the Hurunui and the rapid Waimakariri, whose glacier-fed source I had visited during the first year of my stay in New Zealand. Here, at its mouth, it was a broad and sluggish stream. Finally we passed the flourishing town of Kaiopoi, the peaceful, almost European landscape of which gave little credence to the fact that it had once been the scene of vicious cannibalism.
The Maoris told me how in earlier times the North Island tribes used to come down here to get punamu (greenstone). Their search often led to fights which sometimes resulted in annihilation of whole tribes. On one occasion the pa here had been suddenly attacked, and most of the inhabitants killed and eaten.
The sight of the coast brought back memories of my first days in New Zealand. The nearer we came to Christchurch the more my heart beat for joy, as though I were returning to my native home. When we got to Lyttelton the sun was just rising, and gradually the curtain of mist lifted. By degrees the town I loved so
Mr. Sparkes, my former assistant, opened his eyes wide when I knocked at his house in Ferry Road at 6.30 that morning. After breakfast we went to the Museum, where I found my system still working. Sir Julius von Haast seemed pleased to see me;' he took me along to dinner, and promised to let me have a dinornis (moa) skeleton in exchange for other things.
Time passed so quickly with visits and calls that I clean forgot the hour of departure, and found the Stella had left without me. I was obliged to follow by train to Dunedin. The capital of Otago, which now numbered 45,000 inhabitants, began to grow in the 'sixties, when, gold was discovered in Gabriel's Gully. Now she had a university, theatre, library, fine hotels, water-works, paper-works, mills, etc.
At Port Chalmers I found the Stella, but was sorry to hear Dobson was unwell. The captain and officers told me they had had a lot of trouble with him, as he had refused to eat anything, and wanted to jump overboard, and they declared they would no longer be responsible for him. Two days later, when I returned, I found he had disappeared.
They had tried to get him to eat, which had annoyed him so much that he left the boat. After a long search, I found him sitting on a load of timber; but he would not tell me why he had gone ashore, so I brought him aboard again, and left him in the cabin. He did not
We sailed along the coast past Cape Saunders, to the lighthouse on Nugget Point, where we unloaded stores, and then made for Waipapa Point, where landing proved impracticable on account of high seas, so we ran for shelter to Port Bluff, to wait for better weather.
Here I met a Mr. Dougherty, the owner of some west coast coal-mines, whose custom it was to spend summer in the Sounds and winter in Dunedin. He offered me the use of his hut in Dusky Sound as my headquarters, and also introduced me to Mr. Bertram, the finance administrator in this part of the world, who pressed me warmly to be his guest as long as I remained at the Bluff — an invitation I was only too willing to accept. This being the last civilised place I should see for some time, I sent off letters and wires. In the afternoon the Stella returned, and I was pleased to find Dobson much better. Next morning, however, he was so unwell that I had to telegraph his brother-in-law in Auckland to come and fetch him. In the meantime I put him under the care of a local doctor.
It was a difficult matter to part from the companion of so many of my wanderings. Dobson, too, wanted very badly to come with me; but I talked things over with him, and finally he admitted that he had better remain behind. I promised him that when he was better we would undertake further expeditions together. When at length we grasped each other's hand
'Mr. Reischek has undergone very severe personal hardships in his endeavour to solve some of the most difficult problems respecting the habits of our rarest birds that are found only in the most remote and inaccessible parts of the islands.' — Sir James Hector, C.M.G.
TheStella put to sea at 3 a.m., landing stores and petrol at Dog Island, a few miles from the coast. I found the strain of the preceding days and the loss of Dobson depressed me very much.
At our next stopping-place, Puysegur Point, I was greeted by the lighthouse inspector, Mr. Cunningham, who told me Marine Minister Leod had written him asking him to do anything he could for me. A second inspector, Mr. Hausen, showed me his tame kakapo, which spent its nights in the bush searching for food, and its days in his workshop among the shavings.
From this point, the fairy-like, still Fjordland began. First we came to Preservation Inlet — the entrance to the most southerly of the Sounds — and Long Sound, stretching many miles inland. Bush-covered slopes fell steeply to the west, and farther on through the Brother-drip we reached the entrance to Chalky Sound, dividing at its farthermost into two arms, the Leeward and Edward Sounds.
Then on at last past Cape Providence, the
To start off with, things were none too bad. Dougherty stayed with me until July, when the Stella returned with more stores and the mail. Thereafter I remained alone in these Fjordland solitudes until October!
Of all the Sounds, I found Dusky the most striking and magnificent. Though Milford Sound is certainly bigger and more imposing, and Doubtful Sound covers a larger area, I found that none of them exhibit such variety, such variegated beauty. Here the sea penetrates for 24 miles inland to an average width of 2 miles, while numerous islets are dotted about, including Resolution and Anchor Islands, the latter enclosing a clear lake, and protecting the deep expanse like a solid dam against the stormy waves of the ocean.
Long Island, and still farther within, Cooper Island, divide the Fjord into two channels, Large Channel and Nine Fathom Passage. The wild cleft sides of the peaks, which fall sharply in mighty terraces down to the cold still water, are clothed thick with virgin bush. Most wonderful of all is the view from the mountain-tops, reached by unbelievably steep paths from the hut, to build which Dougherty had been given a Government grant a short time before.
To wander on a clear day on these heights, when the
In the direction of Chalky Sound the horizon is bounded by rugged peaks, and farther landwards snow-covered mountains rear themselves majestically to embrace the sky. I discovered here ore-bearing minerals, rubies, and a large number of the commoner stones. Rare New Zealand birds live in these valleys and gorges, while glacier-fed streams break now and again into the loveliest of cascades.
I had chosen an unusual time for my visit, the New Zealand autumn and winter, when the Sounds are always at their stormiest. From my arrival in April 1884, until the following October, I had only forty-four fine days in all, of which eight were in April, four in May, thirteen in June, four in July, and ten in September.
Looking back on my experiences, I am bound to admit that my expedition was unlucky, and it is not entirely my fault if the following reads like a chapter of accidents.
For one thing, I was so pestered with sand-flies that I was frequently compelled to run away from them
Another malefactor was the inconstant weather, which, though it did not prevent me from covering a good deal of country right up to the region of eternal ice and snow, played me many an unfortunate trick.
Then, in May, I started to build a canoe, but the wood proved so knotty, and the flies so annoying, that one day my axe slipped and cut my knee to the bone. I bound up the wound, but it continued to smart, and robbed me of sleep for days. During one most painful night the storm uprooted a tree, which fell across the hut and crashed in the roof. With my leg aching as it did, I had to spend all next day repairing the damage.
Winter let loose all the elements on me shortly after the departure of the Stella. The whole sky grew black and threatening, and for days on end I caught no glimpse of sun nor stars. The sea roared and the wind howled, and the trees groaned as they swayed incessantly. Every few minutes a king of the forest would be laid low. The thunder rolled and woke a thousand echoes from the neighbouring hills and the distant mountains. All hell seemed let loose, and I realised as never before the insignificance of man in the presence of the unbridled power of eternal Nature.
It was a wild but inspiring adventure to witness
As soon as the weather improved I got out my canoe and made for Resolution Island, some 20 miles away. Near Breaksea Sound a storm came on, and as it was too late to land, I ran before the wind. It was all I could manage to do to balance the canoe, while Cæsar kept as still as death, as though he knew quite well the danger we were in. Finally I recognised a landmark opposite the camp, and a wave suddenly picked me up and deposited me on the beach. Everything that had not gone overboard was soaked. I landed so dog-tired that it took me some days to get over it.
While recuperating, I had to rely on Cæsar for my meat supply. The first morning I told him to go and catch a bird for his master. The first he brought me was a penguin. I said, 'Ugh! that's no good!' and showed him the skin of a wood-hen, and two hours later, sure enough, he brought one back. From then on he took care of me, until I was able to get about again.
Then a new misfortune befell me. On July 27, I skinned some fish, but forgot to wash my hands after-wards. I soon felt pains in my stomach and great weakness. I quickly swallowed some warm water and mustard, and spewed as hard as I could, and a little
On August 3, I was feeling utterly sad and miserable. I tried my hand at many things, but nothing gave me pleasure. I developed a limp, and had to rally all my will-power to suppress the voices of despair. It was several days before I felt my old energy return.
In due course I finished the canoe, and cut a passable track a mile or two up the hillside. I pitched my tent in a gorge, 600 metres above sea-level, close to a wild stream. It seemed a suitable place from which to explore the neighbourhood, where the snow now lay to a depth of over 3 feet. I was still troubled with the wound in my knee, for though the skin was healed, it still gave a fair amount of pain. The surface of the snow being frozen, with every step I sank in, and once again my wound burst open, giving me such agony that I could scarce hobble back to the tent.
Then a snowstorm from the west came on. I tried to sleep, but the pain prevented me, and during the night the storm blew my tent away. I wrapped my things in a ground-sheet, put on an oilskin, drew my sou'wester down over my face, and sat like a frozen mummy until morning. When I tried to make a fire I found all the wood was frozen. I tried for ten solid hours, but had to give it up as hopeless.
Next day, however, I had better luck. After many efforts I managed to light a fire from little pieces of
The storm lasted three days. My mouth-organ was my only comfort. In order to lessen the pain and forget the misery of my situation, I composed a song, 'God Bless my Country' (' Dr. Reischek, jun., has sent me the programme of this concert, given at the Choral Hall, Auckland, on March 31, under the distinguished patronage of the then Governor, Sir William Jervois, K.C.M.G. — Ed.Leb'wohl, Heimatland'), which a friend of mine, a music-teacher in Auckland, afterwards took down from my playing. It was received with great enthusiasm at a benefit concert given, on my behalf, in Auckland on my return.
In August I measured the ice on one of the pools on a summit of the Alps. It was 6½ inches thick.
The beginning of September I experienced a snowstorm and thunderstorm combined, which lasted four days and four nights. It was a spectacle of indescribable sublimity. Imagine being some 4500 feet up among the wild surroundings of the Southern Alps, at one moment enveloped in thick darkness, the next dazzled by flashes of lightning. And the flashes followed one another so quickly that for a considerable space of time the sounds below, the naked peaks above, and the realm of bush between were lit up in marvellous detail. I could see an enormous waterspout dancing with insane speed over the Sounds, the column of water rising, falling, and whirling hither and thither, and where the whirlpool struck the shore, trees and rocks
On the heights around Dusky Sound I found a species of kakapo which was both larger and lighter than the usual kind, and a large species of kiwi which differed' from the ordinary both as to size and the greater length of feather. It seems that in summer these birds live high up among the mountains, descending only during the winter.
To investigate this, I started off into the mountains on September 25. Everything was covered with snow. Cæsar and I got on a slope covered with thick ice, and I began to cut steps with my ice-axe. When I had climbed up one-third of the slope the ice broke, and I commenced sliding valleywards. Cæsar, who was tied to me, succeeded in jumping on to a slippery ledge, and fortunately the weight of his spring was enough to arrest my course. The ice beneath me shot away over a precipice a few feet below, and but for the dog I should have been killed.
On another occasion, when approaching the same place from the other side, I had almost to abandon Cæsar to his fate.
In the spell of warm weather after my arrival in late summer I found an especially large number of rare and beautiful mountain kakapo. I wanted to observe the winter habits of these quaint birds, but when I saw the mass of snow and ice covering the side of this gorge, my courage almost failed me. However, I decided to attempt the descent, roping Cæsar up and lowering him over the ice.
I found a fair number of tracks, and dug a hole in the snow big enough to take both myself and the dog. Then I spread a white roof of snow over us so as not to arouse the suspicion of the birds. Here I sat for hours watching. It was bitterly cold. A number of kakapo passed our hiding-place, busily searching for seed among every tuft of snow-grass, and pecking at the soft branches of the ake-ake (Dodonæa viscosa). At the least movement I made they would fly into their holes, to get in and out of which they had dug tunnels in the snow. I captured one or two fine specimens.
To get out of this place proved both dangerous and difficult. As already mentioned, the valley was bounded on one side by a steep, unclimbable wall of rock, while the terrace formation of the other side, looked at from above, seemed quite an easy climb. I had done it once, earlier on.
I now discovered, much to my dismay, I had mistaken the distance and slope of the now slippery terraces. I had a good load on my back, and by the time I reached the last of the ledges I was quite exhausted.
But looking up again, I found yet another slope to climb, steeper and higher than the last. It was too late to turn back, and I should have been frozen to death had I stayed where I was, so I summoned what energy I had left and attacked this fresh problem, determined to get to the summit. The effort proved too much for me. I was too weak to haul the dog up after me, and was overtaken by such an acute attack of cholic that I rolled helpless on the ground. I lay
After a rest, I began to climb down the other side. Reaching the bush, I collected branches of silver spruce and encircled myself with fires, which dried my clothes and allayed my cholic.
I now returned to camp, where illness kept me four days in bed, after which I made a canoe expedition in the Sounds. When we had gone some way, Cæsar jumped up and began growling, attracting my attention to the bottom of the canoe. It was half full of water owing to a leak, which it must have sprung in the last storm.
On my next outing I was crossing a frozen waterfall when Cæsar lost his footing and slipped downwards out of sight. From above I could not make out what had happened to him, and I searched the whole neighbourhood without finding any trace. When darkness came on, I sadly turned downstream, several times falling into water up to my neck. I reached camp cold and beaten, and certain that Cæsar was lost for ever. I fired off several rounds outside the hut, and then lay down, but could not sleep. About two o'clock in the morning I heard scratching on the door, and Cæsar came creeping in, stiff with cold.
Dougherty came back again in September, and as the Stella was expected in a few days' time, I began to think about civilisation once more. My hair had grown very long, and I asked my companion to cut it but he was hardly an expert. While he was still on the job, the Stella arrived, six days before her time. It would
Next morning we let early, leaving Dougherty behind. We went up the west coast as far as Cape Farewell, and turned into Tasman Bay and Cook Strait, stopping at Nelson.
On the way a sad adventure befell. I had brought some kakapo from Dusky Sound, with the idea of taming them. One day some prying individual opened the cage doors, and the birds got out and clambered up the rigging. It was impossible to recapture them, and finally they were all driven to the top of the mast, whence they sprang into the sea and were drowned. I was very sad about this, as I had promised Professor Parker a pair. From Nelson I made northwards to Wellington, and thence again to Auckland.
I Spent most of the two 1885-1886 working in the Auckland Museum and arranging private collections, but between times managed to get in a number of excursions, of which the following are the most noteworthy.
Early in February 1885, I visited Karewha Island to study the tuatara lizard.
In July I again visited Alexandra and the Pirongia Range of the King Country, where I met my two old friends,
In 1887, King Tawhiao opened his land to Europeans. He himself turned the first sod when the railway line was laid through his country. It was, I thought, a saddening symbol — the native king digging the grave of the culture of his own race!
When Tawhiao agreed to resign his kingdom, the Government offered him a yearly pension of £210 sterling; but this he declined, demanding the position of Maori superintendent with a salary of £1000 per annum. When the Government refused, he proudly withdrew to Parawera, where he died unexpectedly of influenza on August 26, 1894. Death had claimed his son,
On November 25, 1886, I went by Government steamer to Gannet Island on the West Coast. In the afternoon we reached a little town at the foot of snow-covered Mont Egmont (Taranaki) and the same evening arrived at the bar of the Wanganui River.
At Wanganui I visited Mr. S.H. Drew's private museum. The owner had spent a great deal of money on it, and freely admitted visitors. I arranged his collection, and remained here until December 14. It was then a fine little town of some 6000 inhabitants.
Towards the end of the year I went to Dunedin, and thence took another trip to Fjordland with a Mr. Rimmer, again on the Stella. On January 12, 1887, we landed at Fisherman's Bay in Chalky Sound; but while brewing a billy of tea a rainstorm broke. It lasted for three solid weeks, and we decided to clear a half-acre of bush and build a hut on the first rainless day that came along.
My enterprising mate afterwards laid out a kitchen-garden behind the hut, in which he sowed vegetable seed, and cut some bush tracks, one to the West Coast, a distance of 6½ miles. The coast is not so indented here as at Dusky Sound. I followed up a number of little streams, and found a magnificent waterfall some 200 feet high, which I called Grainger Fall, after a friend of mine.
On February 27, in going through a large forest situated on a plateau, I came across a beautiful lake which was not marked on the map. The wood around consisted of silver spruce, manuka, totara, ironwood, birch, and rata. This lake is about 2 miles from the sea, and runs into the sea near Breakers Point. It is about 1000 feet above sea-level, and a remarkable thing is that I found not the least sign of life, either fish or insect, in it.
I taught Rimmer how to make bread, for in my youth I had learnt the baker's trade. But his first sample was not so light as it might have been. I suggested sending it as a model to the Adelaide Exhibition!
April came in with rain and storm, and I began to get disheartened with the loss of time and money and the small success we had had.
We blazed a trail from the Three Brothers to a hill which rose up in the north-west in the direction of Dusky Sound. This also was not marked on the map. To the west we found three lakes, which we named Lake Hector (after Professor Hector), Lake Thomas (after Professor Thomas of Auckland), and Lake Fraser (after Captain Fraser). To the east we found another two, which I called Lake M 'Arthur (after M'Arthur), and Lake Rimmer (after my companion). Finally, under one of the smaller Brothers we found another little lake which we called Lake Cæsar, as it was my dog who actually discovered it when out hunting. The range continued along towards the ocean, forming a plateau some 1350 feet above
The sunset on May 27, which I enjoyed from the highest peak of the Three Brothers, was of such magnificent colouring that I had never seen anything to equal it. It would be difficult to paint it with the brush, and is still more difficult to describe in words. Far away the dark blue sea was crested with white foam. The sky, which had been covered up to now with fleecy clouds, began to lighten with the reflection of the setting sun, glowing with all the colours of the rainbow. From blood-red to orange and gold, the light faded away by gradations to a tender apple-green tinge, out of which the silver moon emerged like a pale Medusa.
Throughout my bird observations I always stuck to the principle of never shooting a bird in the neighbourhood of camp. In this way the animals became trustful, and observation was much easier. I was able, while in Chalky Sound, to watch the delightful white-throat (Miro albifrons), which jealously and obstinately guards its own piece of territory against all comers.
I fed one pair daily, and after a few days they readily came into the hut and took food from my hand. They were both so tame that they used to accompany me on my little walks, and while I was digging kiwi or kakapo out of their holes, they would sit by me and pick out the larvae from the loosened earth. Later on they brought their young with them, feeding them with the food I gave them. In the early dawn the old
At Chalky Sound I had continual opportunities of observing the ravages of the brown rat (Mus decumanus), one of the great plagues of New Zealand.
New Zealand, especially towards the sea, now swarms with these animals, introduced originally, from European ships. They are a pest in the North Island, but round the Sounds of the West Coast I found them more numerous, still. I shot rats of all colours, yellow-brown, speckled, silver-grey, brown, grey, and black. At a height of nearly 4000 feet in Dusky Sound I found numbers of them, and in winter, when the mountains were covered with snow, I came across their tracks repeatedly.
I regularly poisoned as many as I could. At night they kept me awake with their noise, knocking things down from the walls, gnawing at my stores, and digging holes round the hut. They dug up the potatoes in the garden and dragged them away. On one occasion I hung up poisoned bird-skins, but sure enough the rats climbed on the beams and gnawed them to bits. Skeletons also, which I had strung on a wire nearly 12 feet above ground, were not exempt
The tussock country near the Three Brothers swarmed with them, and they used to gnaw our boots before our very eyes. While we were eating our supper by the fire, they would come along behind us and gnaw the bones we had thrown aside for Cæsar.
Nevertheless we got our fun out of them. Rimmer was such a sound sleeper that he did not even wake on one occasion when I fired off my gun at them. Once, however, he could not help sitting up and taking notice. He found a mob of them sitting round his head, gnawing his hair and beard, and shot out of bed as though a tarantula had stung him, got a stick, and slew as many of his tormentors as he could.
These rats are the great enemies of birds, and any bird living or breeding near the ground has but a small chance of existing. They play havoc alike with eggs and young, and even attack the parent birds.
Between Landing Bay and Northport I found a great birch tree quite undermined with rat holes. The bark had been gnawed away up to 50 inches above ground-level. All vegetation was dead on the tree, and the stink of excreta was strong. It took five months of shooting, poisoning, and trapping before they showed signs of decreasing around camp. I remember especially one pair of wily brutes I
The Stella came back to fetch us on June 30, and on the following day we were on the open sea. We passed through Acheron Passage, very narrow and deep, protected on one side by the large Resolution Island and on the other by the mainland. We went back by way of Breaksea Sound, and remarked to the northwards Casswell Sound with its beautifully coloured marble rocks. An attempt had been made some time before to excavate the marble, but owing to too drastic use of dynamite, and mismanagement, the scheme had come to naught, and the marble was still unexploited.
Milford Sound, reached through a narrow entrance between high cliffs, proved wonderfully impressive. The majestic Mitre Peak rose like the figure of a gigantic sugar cone, past which was visible the freshwater basin into which the Bowen Falls tumble over a wall of rock from a height of nearly 500 feet. A few miles away was Sunderland Falls, 1600 feet high. Occasionally prospectors came here, living for months on end far away from civilised comforts.
I got the captain to land me in Paringa Bay, where my camping-place was very limited in size, being a mere hillock surrounded on two sides by the sea, and to north and east by the Paringa Creek and some rocks. Here there stood a deserted gold-diggers' hut and a little shelter erected by the station owner, Stephenson. It was raining, and the wind prevented
I was soon awakened by a stream of water pouring down on me. I sprang up from my primitive couch into another pool. I found the floor of the hut already 6 inches under water, and had to move all my things again. It was high tide, and the sea came right up to the hut, while in addition the Paringa Creek had overflown its banks, and water was streaming down the rocks from all sides. My boat was now full of water, and when I went to empty her, a sudden wave knocked me backwards, and filled her up again. I pulled her higher, and fastened her to a tree, afterwards carrying my things to higher ground. I was several times knocked down by the waves in the process. The storm continued four days, three of which I spent in getting my things out of danger, but had the water risen another foot, I should have lost everything.
Meanwhile, Mr. Stephenson and his son, having learnt of my arrival and the condition I was in, made several attempts to ride through the swollen river. They finally managed it on the 10th, and advised me to leave my uncomfortable camp at once and make my headquarters at their station 7 miles upstream. I carted my things over to the other bank in my little boat (which took me another four days), and from here they were taken on to the station by pack-horse.
Cattle farming in the bush is a tough but healthy undertaking. Stephenson's station in the Paringa Valley consisted of a dwelling-house with a fine view over the Huka glacier, and with buildings for the cattle-drovers, stalls, sheds, slaughter-houses, and a number of kennels. The fields and paddocks were — fenced in, but the horses not needed at the station were allowed to run wild with the mares and foals across the open country and along the creeks where good feeding was to be found.
When these animals are three years old it is a hard task to break them in. Once the horses get an idea that they are going to be driven in, they rush off at a gallop, swim the river, and act so cunningly that even the best horsemen cannot catch them except by subterfuge.
The older animals are the sooner tamed, especially if the bridle is used on them, but the young are often very wild, bucking, kicking, and biting for all they are worth. Then they are shut up singly in padded boxes to keep them quiet, and broken in by degrees as pack-horses or draught animals.
The cattle run half wild in small herds through the bush, but the oxen and fat cattle are kept in the neighbourhood of the station. Each herd has its own leader,
Like deer, these cattle keep to their own grazing grounds, only leaving them when lack of food compels, or if disturbed. In most cases they are easily stampeded, when they break away with great speed through the bush, charging anything that gets in their way. Their favourite feed is the fleshy, green-leaved karaka, which makes them very fat, and gives their meat an appetising flavour.
When they are calving they make for the dense places where there is much feed. If they hear the suspicion of a noise, they hide their calves (if too young to follow the herd) in a thicket, where the little ones keep so quiet until the cows call, that it is easy to pass them unobserved. But if discovered, their pitiful bleat brings back the cow — sometimes the whole herd following — charging through the bush like mad.
At the time I was at the station the cowboys were out every day bringing back the cows which were ready to calve, and they had also to search for dropped calves before these became unruly. Provided with ropes, they would mount their horses and, accompanied by their dogs, ride to the edge of the bush, where they dismounted. Then two or more of them would enter the bush, while the dogs hunted out the cows. Once found, the calf is roped and driven out of the wood, the enraged cow charging behind. A novice would expect to see the drover tossed any minute, but he always takes good care to keep the
Stalls have been prepared beforehand, to which the cows are admitted morning and evening, yoked and hobbled, so that the wildest animal is rendered harmless, and ready for milking. Many of them protest at first, lying down and refusing to be milked, and generally two calves are apportioned to such irreconcilables to suck their udders dry.
Cattle-droving necessitates the use of a short, tough stock-whip. If a cow gets loose, she receives a blow on the end of the horn — a very sensitive spot. Should a drover get among them without a stock, he is soon attacked. I saw one cow in particular break the rope to which her calf was fastened, and make off with it to the bush, where they were gone for a week.
The younger calves are usually tame within a month, but those that have lived in the bush for some time after their birth generally remain half wild. During my stay I saw how they were able to toss even the strongest of cowboys over a fence.
On one anxious occasion I was able to get Mrs. Stephenson out of a nasty position. She and her husband were busy handling an obstinate calf which energetically lashed out, and bleated pitifully for its mother. At this cry a number of the herd came dashing into the yard, and Stephenson let go the rope before
Once the calves are large enough, and have been properly weaned, they are driven back with the herd into the bush, where they are mustered once or twice a year. The drovers set off in groups, each group having a different mustering area. One time, when on the post-route which leads some 200 miles through the bush from Hokitika to Jackson's Bay, I came across many such mustering camps. The drovers are usually in the bush for days together, and should one be passing in the evening, he will hear the blow of axe and the rasp of saw, while pillars of smoke rise among the trees, and a pack of dogs bark madly at any intruder. Rough voices order them to be quiet, and they run back, tails between legs, mistrustfully watching the traveller from the shadows of the trees, and ready to fall upon him should he interfere with their masters' camp.
These dogs are an indispensable aid to the cowboys, and if well-trained, fetch a very big price indeed. The drovers are tanned and weather-beaten fellows, clad in leather breeches and short-armed flannel shirts, with broad-brimmed hats of soft felt, and heavy, high-laced boots.
In spite of their strenuous life, they are splendid fellows through and through, always ready to share their bed and tucker with the stranger. Their huts and tents are chock-full of saddles, bridles, ropes, and long-plaited raw-hide whips, with beautifully decorated short handles. Sacks of flour, bread, tea, sugar, and huge haunches of beef hang from the beams around — a picturesque sight.
Each drover has two dogs, whose business it is to hunt out the cattle. Having found a beast, one of these stands on guard whilst the other runs back for its master. Should one of the half-wild beasts rush at the drover or the dog, the other snaps at its hind leg, making the animal turn about, and so saving the assailed. Times are, however, when these brave fellows have to remain sitting up a tree until some especially vicious brute disappears. The wildest beasts, once caught and driven into the stockyard, are quickly dispatched. One such animal would have broken through the high stock fence had I not put a bullet through him.
After mustering, the fat beasts are sorted out and driven to market, sometimes a distance of 70 or 80 miles away. Floods and rivers have to be crossed en route, and they are driven by short stages, so as not to lose weight, and at night left grazing in the open.
On a sheep-farm the work is not so strenuous, grazing being in the open country, for sheep very often go astray in the bush.
While at Stevenson's station I was often out studying
On August 12, a clear but very cold morning, I went off to Blue River. With me went little Mary, one of Stevenson's daughters, a wonderful kiddie of ten and the best guide on the station. She was much more observant than most grown-ups, and if any of the horses ran away, it was she who was sent to find them. She was always on the go, and the pride of her life was a wild horse called 'Curly' which, on this occasion, we took with us as a pack-horse.
We camped on the shore of Blue Lake, and while my young companion lit a fire and did all the chores, I went hunting. Next day I was out before dawn, while Mary prepared breakfast. Cæsar brought a pair of kiwi into camp, and after breakfast we packed up, and wandered on a few miles to a new riverside camp.
Towards night, numbers of mountain duck came
September 6 was a lucky day for me. The post arrived with a box of cigars from a friend, which I was overjoyed to get, having been seven months without any. Among my letters there was one from Sir Julius von Haast, inviting me to go and see him; but a short time after, I was deeply grieved to learn that this loyal friend was dead. He died on August 18, two days after he wrote this letter.
The head wound which I had received from the fallen tree on Taranga Island began to trouble me once again, and Mrs. Stevenson undertook the unpleasant job of operating on it. She managed to get out some splinters of bone, and proved a devoted and tender nurse.
On October 7, 1887, just five minutes before midnight, we witnessed a striking natural phenomenon. A great fire-ball came out of the south-east; it shone as brightly as a ball of electric light, and fell in the bush apparently only a short distance away. We then heard a roaring subterranean noise towards the east, which lasted several seconds, and finally ended in a bang like a gun-shot. I suppose it was a meteor.
This October I attempted to scale the glacier-clad mountains, but was driven back by a heavy snowstorm after I had got to about 3700 feet. The weather
I took a south-westerly direction up the mountains, following an overgrown track which had been cut to get the sheep to the grass country above, but was now quite abandoned. The track led through dense forest, and in places was blocked by trees lying across. These giants, in some parts near the track, had been torn up and broken by some whirlwind, and lay like fallen men on a battlefield. It can be easily imagined that this, together with the undergrowth which had sprung up, made travelling with a heavy swag rather laborious work. Only those who have travelled with swag and gun through such country and up steep hills have any idea of the labour required.
In the evening the track got to an end, when I came out on the grass country, at 3500 feet above sea-level. Here I camped. Three dwarf birch-trees formed the roof of my shelter, and a few tussocks formed my bed. After lighting a good fire, I searched for water, which is generally found on these Alps clear and good; but in this case I was doomed to disappointment, for all I could get was stagnant water full of insect life.
In spite of my fire and shelter, I found it bitterly
It was a lovely night indeed, for Nature had put on her most romantic garb. How I wish I could describe it! Imagine the silver shimmer of the moon-lighting up the landscape, causing endless shades and reflections of the hills and vegetation; the valleys covered with a silver-grey mist, the sparkling stars competing with the glaciers in brightness, and the dark cliffs dotted over with patches of snow. All this grandeur and the solemn silence of the scene put me in mind of the fairy-tales of my childhood. Yes! here was loveliness enough, but the fairies had gone.
I walked on for about three hours, up and down these mountains and gullies, when I was startled by the booming noise of some bird unknown to me. It sounded somewhat like that of a bittern, but far louder, and I did not imagine that bird was to be found at a height of 4000 feet. I now remembered that the call of an exceptionally rare and supposedly extinct bird, the Notornis mantelli, had been thus described to me. The fever of discovery fell upon me, for to what infinite pains had I not gone, and through what untrodden wildernesses, without having seen or heard sign of Notornis! At last one seemed to be within my reach!
Quietly I crept in the direction from which the call had come. Arrived at a pool, Cæsar pointed, and I
Journeying over huge blocks of rocks (which lay as if they were on purpose thrown together) on one side and deep precipices on the other, I came to a stop, and there was nothing for it but to await daylight. There being no vegetation, I could not light a fire, so had to walk about to keep warm. Dawn at last appeared, and no Laplander ever welcomed the glorious sun more joyfully than I did in this region.
Still ascending, I crossed snowfields which were of considerable depth in some places. The snow had been blown together, and was frozen so hard that I had to take my tomahawk to chop it down so, as to get softer snow to refresh myself with a wash. My breakfast was snow dissolved in my mouth, with a little oatmeal and a few biscuits.
The walking now became easier over the snow, and I was able to travel much faster. At last I arrived at the source of the left branch of the Paringa River, and a short distance from the Hooker Glacier.
The grandeur of the scene caused me to stop, and although I have travelled through many of the mountainous parts of Europe, and have ascended some of the glaciers, I never beheld anything more beautiful than this charming scene before me. The sky was clear and cloudless. The Paringa River was seen winding its course, like a huge eel, through the valley in a northerly direction to the ocean; N.W., Lake Paringa
Then the sun rose higher, throwing his rays on the masses of ice and snow, and making them scintillate like mountains of diamonds. This imposing scene did not last long, I am sorry to say, for the heat of the sun caused a vapour to rise which soon covered up this lovely panorama.
I stood for some time drinking in this picture, until the cold pierced me to the marrow, bringing me back to reality. I felt it was high time to think about returning, and it was a long and, tiresome descent that brought me finally to the place where I had left Cæsar with my gun. Thence I got down amongst Alpine vegetation, which lay around like a flowered garden. Getting back to the station on the 15th December, I found the Stella was expected, and packed everything ready.
Alas! at long last I was going to leave Cæsar behind me. He was now twelve years old, and had become enfeebled with age and hard work. On the 21st I said good-bye to him for ever. How sad he was, as though he too felt the tragedy of parting! He looked at me in such an entreating way that I could not contain
But it was impossible to take him (thought I), for he was no longer equal to the hardship of further travel. Besides, the Stevenson family, who had been so kind to me, had grown very fond of him, and would do all they could to make his last days happy and comfortable. But as it happened, Cæsar never could forget his master. Shortly after I left, he pined away and died. Mr. Stevenson carefully preserved his head in spirits.
I spent Christmas and New Year in a camp by the sea, where I had taken all my things to be ready for the Stella as soon as she put in an appearance. On New Year's Day all the members of the Stevenson family turned out to wish me bon voyage! It was sad, I can tell you, to say good-bye to this silent world of bush, and to these people who had looked after me with such wonderful kindness. But most saddening of all was to feel I was losing for ever that piece of my heart and soul, my old dog, Cæsar — to think that never again should I see him.
The Stella appeared on January 7, 1888. It was stormy, the Paringa being in flood and landing difficult, so that the ship was rolling heavily when I got on board. Mr. and Mrs. Stevenson's daughters came down to the shore, and waved to me until the ship passed out of sight.
Again we went back to Fjordland. In Chalky Sound I availed myself of a short stay to visit my old hut. I found the carrots, beans, and turnips that Rimmer had planted doing well. The old boat still lay on the beach. By January 14 we were back at Port Bluff.
At last the time came for me to say 'good-bye' to those solitary wilds on the West Coast of the South Island where, amidst the grandest and most beautiful scenery, I had spent so many happy days. Truly, thought I, on leaving it, Nature has lavished favours on New Zealand, and I may well be excused for feeling sorry to go.
On the return trip to the Bluff, Captain Fairchild asked me if I would like to do the round of the distant islands towards the Antarctic. Naturally I accepted, and on January 19, 1888, the Stella left on her annual tour to provision the depots kept up for the succour of shipwrecked sailors. The Invercargill photographer, Dugald, and a few young people, were the only other passengers.
In Foveaux Strait we passed a number of romantic little islands, and in rounding one, Ruapuke, whole flights of mutton-birds rose up from the surface of the sea. A few nellies followed in our wake, eagerly devouring the waste food we threw overboard. Our first run was to Stewart Island, the south and west parts of which are covered with bush. Numbers of seal live in caves along the coast, and the east coast is sparsely settled by natives and farmers. We passed close by Fort William, steamed on
Here two boats were lowered: the first, under the second mate, went fishing, while the other, under the skipper, pulled upstream. The scenery was varied and magnificent, and several enchanting bays and the thick bush vegetation on the slopes made this a most delightful trip. We saw a few Paradise duck and a number of grey and brown duck, all very shy, as well as a small species of weka, not yet described, with rust-red feathers, which was caught peeping out between the rocks. Numbers of shags were sitting on the trees overhanging the river digesting their last meal.
Several kaka parrots (Nestor montanus) circled round our boat, uttering shrill cries to warn their mates of our approach, while bell-birds and tuis welcomed us with their melodious whistles. We saw a quail-hawk (Hieracidea novæzelandiæ) dart down on a full-grown young tui that was not sufficiently on the alert, seize it in his talons, and bear it away to a neighbouring tree, where he had begun his meal before my gun got him.
When we got back to the steamer the other boat came alongside laden with fish. Some of the hapuka (Olegorus gigs) weighed over 80 lb., and the catch also included trumpeters and rock cod. While here I noticed the yellow-crowned penguin (Eudyptes antipodum), a rare species seldom seen by collectors. They played round our boat, and others were feeding their young among the rocks. On land their Stella shot one, imagining it to be a wallaby! We also saw a sea-leopard fishing among, the kelp.
In stormy weather, and after much buffeting, we came to Wilson Bay; and on January 21, we tried to reach Snares Islands, but the worst of conditions made us turn hack to Pegasus Bay, where we anchored at Kelp Point. We made a second attempt the day after, and at dawn on the second day out we came to this little group, which lies some 62 miles south and 22 degrees west of Stewart Island.
We anchored in 56 fathoms of water half a mile from the east coast, where a boat was lowered, and we rowed to the least steep place we could find. The birds rose with deafening cries, or swam round us in swarms, wanting to know what it was all about. The island itself was layers deep in foul-smelling guano, and the little fresh-water creek was polluted with its nauseating flavour. The whole surface of the island was honeycombed with bird-holes.
Here a pair of goats were landed and the rescue hut replenished, while one member of the party sowed tree-seed and the photographer took some snaps. I followed the birds, and at once spotted three strangers — a black tomtit and a swamp-lark, which were bold and trustful; and a bell-bird, which was rare and shy.
Mr. Bethune, second engineer of the Stella, came with me, and we procured specimens of tomtit and swamp-lark, which I skinned and sent to the great ornithologist, Dr. Finsch, for examination. I supposed
The cliffs were covered with grey-headed and shy albatross (Diomedea chlororhynchus and cauta), young and old, with a sprinkling of other birds, while thousands of penguin stood like soldiers on the shore. It was amusing to see Captain Fairchild, who delighted in such sport, tumbling them into sacks, with the idea of presenting them to the Zoological Gardens. There was, however, an epidemic among them, and dead fowl lay strewn everywhere; indeed, at one place we came upon a regular graveyard, where thousands of decomposing bodies lay rotting, heap upon heap. The stench was enough to kill a cat.
I would willingly have spent a month on the island; but, the wind freshening, we heard the call sounding to get back to the ship. We heaved anchor and steamed round the group, closely scanning it for evidence of shipwrecked sailors. From here we steamed off to the Auckland Islands, our menagerie of captured, fowl crying a deafening good-bye to comrades ashore.
We had bad weather again, a gale from the west sweeping the deck with rain and hail. Because of the poison I used for preserving specimens, I was only allowed to do my taxidermy on deck, and experienced great difficulty in keeping my legs. I finally strapped myself up, but had to undergo a constant shower-bath, and every time the ship rolled, my instruments got properly mixed up.
The Aucklands lie some 150 miles south and 5 Once an English colony, described by Lieut. Governor Enderby in 1850 as 'much better adapted for settlement than the northern islands of New Zealand.'—Ed.Panax simplex), and the so-called stink-wood, the stem of which, when cut, gives off such a bad odour.
Above, on the open plateaux, plants of a fair size grow, such as Pluerophyllum speceosum, hung with purple berries, and altogether beautiful. Besides I noticed two kinds of Ligusticum, pink and white, and the so-called golden lily (Anthericum rossi) grew in patches over a wide area. Still higher up on the tussock country was an abundance of blue, red, and white veronica.
Here we landed a load of timber for a boat-shed. A few large sea-lion, who had been disporting on the beach, waddled lazily away at our approach. The shed was soon built, and the sound of the hammer-blows roused life in the island. The sea-lions looked on in amazement, while innumerable rabbits hopped off in all directions, and wild dogs slunk around without daring to approach too near.
We found on Enderby Island one or two huts made of tussock grass, bound together with thongs of sea-lions' hide. These had been constructed by the survivors of the wreck of the Derry Castle. On top of a hill Derry Castle had come across from Enderby Island.
At the head of the harbour, known as Sarah's Bosom, we found a blue-painted boat and two columns 4 feet high, with a cement block, which bore the inscription: 'German Expedition, 1874' — a reminder of the visit of German scientists to observe the transit of Venus.
Our next stop was Ross Island, where again quite a collection of sea-lions met us on the beach. The boat was lowered so that Dugald could take a photo of them, and they made an amusing picture as several of us went ashore and herded them into a group. They tried to escape at first, and when stopped by the sailors, they squatted on their haunches, waggled their heads, and let out growls of disapproval, gazing at one another as if to ask, 'What are we expected to do next?' Some of the males were of an imposing size, with fine manes, but the females were smaller and of lighter colouring.
After this little interlude we rounded North-West Cape and made south. The coast-line was of heroic relief. Abrupt rocks, with contours of animals and gigantic human beings, rose sheer out of the sea, the surf dashing wildly against them, while high up waterfalls wavered in the breeze like fountains, blown upwards in spray by the force of the wind.
The last wildly beautiful lonely island was called The General GrantGeneral Grant, 1200 tons burden, en route from Melbourne to London, was driven ashore in a crippled condition and plunged headlong into a cave 250 yards deep, disappearing entirely. Among her passengers were diggers, who had made their pile, returning to the Old Country. Fourteen men and one woman escaped, of whom ten were eventually rescued, one dying and eight being lost in a vain attempt to reach New Zealand.—Ed.
We now approached the South Cape of Adam's Island, hundreds of wandering albatross (Diomedia exulans) following in our wake. We put into the North Harbour, fixed up a sign-board, and proceeded on to Carnley Harbour, where we anchored for the night.
The next morning, January 26, I landed at 4 a.m., on the captain's assurance that I could spend the whole day ashore. It was a delightful morning, and the birds we're singing their best. Numbers of seal lay among the high grass, and when I nearly stumbled over them they growled and grumbled at being disturbed so early. Some even made off, but for the most part they remained sitting on their, haunches, too lazy to leave their lair, merely showing me their large canine teeth. The birds I noticed were the bell-bird, the blight-bird, the yellow-headed tit, the ground lark, the little parakeet, the banded dotterel, and the native snipe.
I had a dreadful scramble through dense low scrub,
In most cases I found the female on the nest, the male bird standing close to her, and occasionally feeding her. Sometimes the male relieved the female, but they never both leave the nest until the young one is able to defend itself against the skua gull (Lestris parasiticus). While taking the measurements of the first nest I came to, I laid down the egg beside me, when a skua darted at it and destroyed it. They were so bold that they frequently came close enough for me to hit them with a stick.
On my approaching an albatross's nest, the old bird seldom left it, but set up a croaking noise, clapping its mandibles together and biting at the intruder. After turning it off and taking away the egg, it returned and sat on the nest as before. The eggs were quite fresh, and made good eating when fried; and in nearly all the other groups we visited I found the albatross most plentiful.
The young take five years to become fully mature. Notwithstanding the ease and grace which travellers
On this occasion I watched these birds for hours, so absorbed that I never thought of the possibility of an earlier departure of the Stella. Suddenly I heard the ship's siren. Springing up, I cut off downwards by the nearest gully; but when I came in sight of her, the vessel had already got up steam and was blowing her fog-horn. It was two o'clock, and I endeavoured to hurry all I could, but the many holes and swamps and the dense scrub held me back, and presently I fell into a hole.
A loud barking growl warned me that I had nearly tumbled on top of a large sea-lion, which I had roused from sleep. Rather startled, we both gazed at one another for a second, before he sat up heavily and bared his teeth. I drew out my sheath-knife and, keeping my eye fixed on him, scrambled out backwards, and turning quickly, uttered a thankful farewell to our Stella was ready to leave before the appointed time. This was unfortunate, for in my hurry not to be stranded like a Robinson Crusoe, I had lost part of my belongings, and broken nearly all my eggs.
We sailed past the striking cliffs of Monument Island, and anchored a short distance from where the Grafton, an Australian sealer, had been shipwrecked. A boat was sent ashore to examine the wreckage, which lay strewn along the coast.
Captain Fairchild told me that not far away was the best anchorage in the Aucklands. We explored the sounds of the east coast, some of which cut far into the centre of the island, and found the sooty albatross (Diomedia fulginosa) breeding among the rocks. I also saw six mergasses, two of which I shot.
On January 28, we reached Campbell Island, after a very rough passage. It lies 164 miles from the Aucklands, is very hilly, the faces of the hills being liberally dotted with precipices. Mount Honey, the highest peak, rises to 1866 feet, and the island is well watered, vegetation being coarse and luxuriant. Alpine vegetation, which in New Zealand begins at 2800 feet, here starts practically at sea-level, going up to a height of only 300 feet, when tussock and barren rock commences.
We anchored in Perseverance Inlet, and were
Two parties went ashore, one to climb Mount Honey, and the other Mount Beeman (1200 feet). I went up the cliffs in search of the rare sooty albatross, several of which I saw circling about. They breed in the recesses of the rocks, and are very hard to get at, but I managed to get one or two. Not so common here as the wandering albatross, it is certainly the prettiest of the family.
The only land bird I came across was the blight-bird (Zosterops), which is common everywhere. When the Austrian frigate Saida was nearly 500 miles from Auckland, a swarm of these little birds came on board. A friend of mine, Flag-Lieutenant Ritter von Wolf, wrote to tell me they were seen sitting in the rigging, and that several were caught.
I was informed that both the tui and also a wingless duck inhabit the island, but could see no sign of either. Albatross I saw in plenty, and thousands of mollymawks were breeding, while crowds of nellies were swimming about with their full-grown young, which were of a beautiful dark slate colour.
Once as I approached one of these birds, he came up to me, opened his bill, and bespattered me with a jet of evil-smelling oily fluid. In spite of repeated bathing
The depot at Fuller's Point was seen to, a few sheep and goats liberated, trees planted, and seeds sown. We then went round the island, examining every cove and sounding as we went along. At North-West Bay we noticed a remarkable rock, which at a distance looks like a full-rigged ship, but nearer at hand resembles a statue. Storms were of almost daily occurrence, and we rode one out in North-East Bay, but on the 31st we left Campbell Island and made for the Antipodes Group.
Our little steamer bobbed about like an empty barrel, and at meals we had to hold tight to the table, in spite of which many of us had nasty falls. At night the wind fell, and a fog spread over the sea's face, which kept the captain on the bridge all night through. Approaching the islands, he went very cautiously, and presently there loomed ahead abrupt basalt rocks full of arches and tunnels, through which the sea was madly tossing.
These islands are about 420 miles from Campbell Island, and consist of detached rocks and islets covering an area of 5 miles. The largest is 1300 feet high, and some of the cliffs rise 600 feet sheer out of the ocean. There is not much shelter for vessels of any size, anchorage being deep and landing dangerous, owing to the heavy swell.
Thousands of penguin of three species sat glued to the rocks, till on our approach some flopped off into the water. I did not see a single seal, and Captain Fairchild told me he had not either, on any of his former visits. The weather was so bad that we kept steam up, and had to shift our quarters several times, and we lost one anchor before finally seeking shelter under the lee of a rock.
A few of us began fishing from the ship, and caught quantities of fish resembling blue-cod, but they had a greenish-yellow rim round the mouth. We fried some for dinner, but they were coarse, and tasted like raw mussels; and on examining some I found they were diseased, the flesh being infested with countless tiny parasites.
Some time after this a boat was lowered, and the remainder of the sheep and goats we had brought from Invercargill were released. Landing was difficult, as no sooner would a 9-foot wave lift us above a rock than we would sink back into the trough as quickly, and it took some careful negotiating to jump on to the slippery land.
At a height of 600 feet there was a large saddle between two mountains. Mount Galloway, the highest, is 1320 feet high, and the captain told me there was a fresh-water lake on the summit; but I had no time to go up and investigate. The vegetation is tussock mixed with cotton-plants, aniseed, veronica, and other plants, but there is no bush whatever, and the creeks are polluted with guano. Of birds, I noticed two kinds of parakeets, a ground lark, the snipe (Gallinago aucklandica), albatross, and the white-headed petrel, whose eggs were nearly all hatched.
Evidence of the work of that destroyer, the skua, was everywhere in the shape of broken penguin eggshells. I noticed a half-grown penguin crawl out of its hiding-place between two boulders, when immediately two of these robbers swooped down and devoured it, one commencing at the neck and the other at its vitals. The ground lark and the two kinds of parakeet I found were entirely different from any I had seen either on the New Zealand mainland or on these outlying islands, both as regarding plumage and habits. The parakeets were larger and plumper than the New Zealand species, the bill being shorter and thicker and the plumage brighter, with a peculiar shimmer towards the tips. They live in burrows, and are very difficult to shoot, as they get up almost under your feet, fly a short distance, and then run among the tussock and hide in their holes. The larger species was originally discovered by Captain Fairchild some years before, when they were plentiful and tame; but now they are rare and wild. The other species I discovered is not mentioned in Buller's or Gould's books. I examined it very carefully — later also with Professors Thomas and Cheeseman — and as it seemed new to the fauna I took the liberty of naming it Platycercus hochstetteri, after Arthur von Hochstetter, the son of Ferdinand von Hochstetter, from whom I received many kindnesses, and who has too soon passed away.
The ground lark of the Antipodes also proved to Anthus steindachneri, after the Director of the Vienna Imperial Museum.
The Antipodes had been visited many years before, for Mr. Bethune picked up a piece of totara board which bore the inscription: 'To the me(mory of W.) Foster, Chief Officer of the Sch(ooner) Prince of Denmark, who was unfortunately drown (ed) in the Boat Harbour, 14th day of December, in the … 1825.'
Before leaving, we took some penguin on board, and let loose those we had brought with us from the Snares. We then made the 110 miles to the Bounty Islands, a cluster of thirteen rocky islets where there was no depot. There was no vegetation, millions of birds being in possession, all breeding; the stench frightful and the noise deafening. They were packed together as I had never seen them before.
After a short stay, we made for Port Chalmers, the harbour of Dunedin, 360 miles away. The bitter weather never left us, and even as we entered the harbour the wind was freshening to hurricane force. Our trip was now at an end. It had been all too short for me.
Yet notwithstanding the interest felt in my pursuits and in the nine species of birds I had found that are not to be seen on the mainland, it was a sad sight to see so many vestiges of disastrous shipwrecks. None can say how many human beings have lost their lives in vice versa, passed near these islands; and the constant bad weather and dense mists render them dangerous localities indeed.
I Betook myself to Wanganui, which then owed its rapid growth to its great corn and cattle export. The arrangement of the Museum there kept me busy from March 8 to April 24, 1888, when I got ready for a last expedition, whose principal aim was to climb the highest glacier-crowned peak of the North Island, the mighty volcano, Ruapehu.
My swag consisted of a rucksack of the respectable size of a potato-bag. I packed in it a reserve pair of boots, a pair of leather slippers, two suits of clothes, and three changes of flannel underwear, a waterproof ground-sheet, two blankets, handkerchiefs, a few medical requirements, and three mouth-organs the usual entertainment of my hours of rest in the wilds. I also carried with me watch, compass, aneroid, and an ice-pick of fine English steel. The leather leggings I wore reached well over my knees. My climbing boots were of a pattern entirely my own. The razor-sharp volcanic rock had already cut to bits so many good pairs of my climbers. I therefore invented a model I considered indestructible. They had hand-sewn uppers of treble thickness, riveted together with copper rivets; the soles were also of treble thickness and thickly studded with nails and iron plates. My load weighed some 27 kilo, but on the return journey, with the addition of objects collected on
I set off early on May 2, a raw, cold dawn of late autumn. Here in distant New Zealand the autumn storm was whipping the dying leaves from the trees, while in my European homeland the fields would all be covered with the gay-coloured blossoms of spring. A thick mist filled the valley of the Wanganui, along the right bank of which I speedily made my way. After some two hours the mist lifted. The autumn trees glittered with diamonds of dew, and the morning symphony of the birds greeted the rising sun.
I stopped for breakfast in the village of Kennedy, and followed the path through the Upokongara Valley. Horses, cattle, and sheep were grazing on the grass-green slopes, and low and brightly painted wooden houses in Swiss style stood out vividly against the dark background of the hills. The melodious tinkling of the cow-bells and the sight of the shining milk-cans before the sheds transported me to my beloved Upper Austria, so that I gave a loud cheer to the surrounding hills, which answered me with a multitude of echoes.
Towards evening I came to a bridge over the Mangowero stream. It consisted only of a wire rope fastened across from side to side, to which a wooden cradle was fixed. The rope was stretched so much that I found it impossible to pull myself across in this heavy box. There was nothing for it but to wade through, which I did, stripped of all clothes except my climbing boots, and with my load on head and shoulders.
Late at night I reached Mason's station, a lonely watch on the borders of Maoriland. The farm lay like a guardian castle over a rocky gorge through which, tossing and foaming in sharp windings, the Mango-wero forced its way. I was received with real New Zealand hospitality, and was astonished to find here, on the boundary of European civilisation, such a comfortable home.
In honour of the tired wanderer the family arranged a concert. Men and girls, who had all day long been busy with spade and milk-can, dressed themselves, and came along to provide us with some excellent music on violin, flute, and piano. The farmer's youngest daughter sang to us, and the hours flew by. Indeed it was difficult for me to rise in the morning and take my leave of this hospitable family.
A short distance from here I entered the bush. A mighty waterfall vanished in the fern-filled depths. The miropines (Podocarpus ferruginea), the red berries of which form the favourite food of the kiwi and the wild pigeon, grew here in thick confusion; also tear-pines (Dacrydium cupressainum), with branches hanging low; manuka tree (Leptospermum tricoides), whose extraordinary hard wood supplies the natives with material for their weapons; and the parasitic rata (Metrosideros robusta), embracing with thick arms the mighty trunks.
I climbed upwards through the overhanging bush by a winding track, and got on to higher ground. In many places the ground was so swampy that I had to wade knee-deep in mud, which made me very
Towards evening I reached the Manotouwa pa. Two Maori women greeted me, the men being all away at a feast at Putiki. As I was very tired, and my load chafed me rather badly, I remained here overnight.
What a contrast between yesterday and to-day! Yesterday, among a circle of well-educated Europeans, I had enjoyed all the comforts of civilisation. To-day, deep in the bush, I was sitting in a rough log hut, in which native children, dogs, and pigs tumbled about together, and in which two tattooed chiefs' wives did the honours in their own customary fashion. But in one way the two days were alike: the noble hospitality, the striving to give the stranger of the best that offered, was the same.
I do not believe two lonely European women in the wilds would have received me so unhesitatingly as did these Maori women. My adventurous appearance, my mud-stained clothing, and the great pack on my back would surely have given them some anxiety about so strange a guest.
Akineta, the chief's head wife, brought me pork and sweet potatoes for my supper. After the meal I played to my hostesses, Austrian fashion, on a mouth-organ.
At daybreak, when all the hut lay deep in slumber, I quietly dressed and left the pa, to escape without another long leave-taking. It was not properly light, and the deep silence of the bush was only occasionally broken by the shrill pipe of the kiwi (Apteryx bulleri) or the melancholy call of the stone-owl (Athene novæ-Zelandiæ). After an hour's march, the rays of the rising sun began to waken the woods to life. Parson-birds or tuis (Prosthemadera novæzelandiæ) gave voice to their melodious song, and kaka parrots (Nestor montanus) sounded the alarm as I passed by.
As I reached the top of the rising ground, the Maori village of Parapara lay before me. The inhabitants were already up. The chief, Tiweta, invited me to breakfast. I soon left the village, however. Some two miles farther on the cultivated land of the Maoris came to an end, and the wilderness commenced.
Before me lay a very steep hill. After I had clambered to the top I uttered a cry of joy. Ruapehu lay before me! Like the giantic tent of some king the Heteralocha acutirostris), those rare birds so highly honoured by the Maoris, looked down upon me from between the branches of a forest giant.
The path led very steeply upwards and was often so bad that I sank thigh-deep in mud. Soon the bush expanded into a mighty beech-dome. Five men with their arms could not have encircled the trunks of the mighty towai (Fagus solandri). Finally I reached a bridge, and on the other side of the stream a good road.
I rested a while and washed the mud from my clothes. It was getting dark by the time I reached the junction of the Taiohuru and the Wangaehu. From here I continued along a narrow path until at last the lights of a Maori pa greeted me.
A motley collection of barking dogs now fell upon me, and only stopped when the Maori, Apia Ngawaka, and his son, Parohi, came out to silence them. They led the way into their hut, the fire was made up anew, and the leg of an ox roasted over it.
Although very sleepy, after my supper I had, according to Maori custom, to answer a host of questions. At last, mats were laid down in the meetinghouse, or runanga, and I prepared myself for sleep. I slept like a log, and only awoke when the sun was high in the sky. As I stepped to the door of the hut, the snow-gleaming summit of Ruapehu greeted me. It seemed almost close enough to touch.
Here I gave myself a day's rest, for the many wades I had had in the course of my 50-mile tramp hard exhausted me a good deal. By the next day I had quite recovered my energy, so I started off for Murimutu. Here I found some Europeans again. Maoris and shepherds were galloping over the snow-grass (Dan-thonia) covered plain, on which thousands of sheep were grazing. I took up my quarters with a storekeeper, and made the acquaintance of a Frenchman, a well-educated man who had withdrawn to the wilds, and who lived much happier here than he could elsewhere in the great world.
In the evening a troupe of Maori maidens came along on a visit; a shepherd played dance music on an old fiddle, and I enjoyed myself watching the graceful movements of the bronze-coloured beauties.
A wonderful autumn morning followed. The ice-armoured giant gleamed and glittered in the morning light, and seemed to draw me like a magnet to his banner. Only thirty more miles and I should be at his feet!
I breakfasted betimes and left the station, accompanied by a shepherd. We marched some 15 miles by compass straight across the plain. Nothing but a desolate waste surrounded us at 'Stony Creek,' where we halted for our midday rest. Before us stretched immense morain slopes, on which numberless great stone blocks lay strewn. Above, the steep bare slope of Ruapehu towered up into the sky. Nowhere a tree as far as eye could see.
We went farther to the north-east, because I expected
It was getting dark when we heard, to our great joy, the sound of running water. How 'bitterly' we were to be disappointed! Running to the spring we each took an enormous gulp, only to spit the water out as quickly, and pull a wry face. A friendly greeting from old Ruapehu! The spring was an alum well … and the source of the Wangaehu!
As my companion could not find the right way in the darkness which set in, I suggested camping where we were. He wanted, however, to try and reach a native hut which lay at the foot of the volcano, Ngauruhoe. So we struggled on farther in utter darkness, and after crossing several steep gullies managed at last to reach the Waipbhawa creek.
It was quite a balancing feat to wade in the blackness through the foaming creek, but after several falls and many a bloody knock, we found ourselves on the right track to the Maori hut. It was uninhabited, so we opened it by force, lighted an immense fire, ate some food, and were soon stretched out on the floor in a deep sleep.
The morning was so cold and misty that my companion would not hear of an ascent. At this changeable time of the year I might perhaps have waited here a week before finding weather
Without thinking about it, I decided to risk it alone, and taking ice-axe, aneroid, compass, provisions, etc., started off. My companion soon caught me up. Days before I had taken the direction with a compass, and decided in my mind where the best ascent seemed to lie. I climbed upwards in a south-easterly direction, along a fairly wide deep gully.
Ghostly and cold the shroud of mist spread itself over the confusion and chaos of piled-up rock and scoria. The stiff slope rose up before us, plantless and barren. High overhead the wind occasionally tore the sheet of mist into threads, and revealed to us momentarily the silver-gleaming head of the mountain.
Here my companion turned back, as he did not feel too well, promising to wait for me some way below, and to build a big fire so that I could find him again the easier.
I climbed on farther, and as the mist melted, discovered before me a boulder-strewn ridge leading upwards to fields of snow. From the upper end of this ridge a narrow ledge of ice led steeply up to the washed-out and half-extinct crater. I began the ascent in a north-easterly direction, first over the loose ash-covered stretch, then over the boulder-strewn ridge; then finally, slowly and painfully, and with the constant use of the ice-axe, I scaled the ice-ridge.
I followed the crater-rim in an easterly direction. To the right, sharp-edged rocks rose up out of the ice;
In the immediate neighbourhood towards the north the smoking chimneys of Tongariro towered up, with its highest cone, Ngauruhoe; and below me, to the north-east, gleamed the broad sky-blue surface of the 26-mile Lake Taupo, looking in contrast with the beauty of the surrounding country like a mirror set in a green frame.
How different was the picture farther beyond to the north-east! Here the terrible eruption of Tarawera had completely transformed the blossoming country into a dead grey waste. As far as the eye could reach, mountain and valley seemed clothed in rubbish and ashes. In place of the mighty primeval forest, enormous clusters of blackened tree-stumps stood out, and here and there the desolate remains of walls indicated where happy people had once lived in full confidence of the future. Towards the west the picture altered again. There the mighty forest stretched endlessly over hill and plain, mountain and valley, in all gradations of green.
A keen and frosty wind aroused me out of my absorption. I had been climbing from day dawn until two o'clock without a rest, and now my whole body felt numb and frozen from standing. It was high time to think of making my way back, especially as the fog
By the time I had reached the ice-ridge again I found I had got too far over to the east. The rocks were covered with loose scoria and ashes. With the assistance of knees and elbows I began slowly to climb downwards; but suddenly my knees gave way, I slipped, and before I had time to save myself with the ice-axe, I was slithering to the bottom. Bruised and cut, I landed among lava blocks and ashes. When I picked myself up, I anxiously examined my bones. They were still whole, thank God! But my aneroid, which I had carefully rolled up in three handkerchiefs and stowed away in my bag, and which had furthermore cost me £5 sterling, rattled suspiciously, and I also found that my compass was missing.
After descending about a quarter of the way, I got out of the enveloping wall of mist into the bright sunshine. It was growing dark, however, before I reached some Maori huts. Horses were grazing around, and a few dogs were gnawing sheep-bones. Tattooed Maoris were grilling mutton-chops at a camp-fire, and the women were baking cakes. As soon as they saw me, the cry rose from all lips: 'Heremai, Pakeha, Heremai te Kai!'
Here I found my companion again. As I had not returned, he had made his way to these huts. Henipoto, the chief's wife, set before us some roast mutton and some of the cakes, which had been freshly baked in the glowing ashes. 'Cakes' similar to these, and also a primitive sort of macaroni, are to be found in my
After the meal I was compelled to listen to the stories of the Maoris, and to answer their questions, although all my limbs were aching and my torn flesh burned like fire.
An old Maori related a diverting history of Ruapehu, his friend Tongariro, and the expelled Taranaki (Mount Egmont).
Many years ago, he said, Ruapehu, Tongariro, and Taranaki lived together in neighbourly friendliness in the place where Lake Taupo now lies. But the beautiful goddess, Pihanga, disturbed their peace. Tongariro and Taranaki were both burning with love for the young virgin. Seized suddenly with jealous anger, Taranaki fell upon Tongariro and beat him so severely that the sweat of fear ran from his forehead in the form of glowing lava. The marks of this sweat remain to wrinkle his brow until this very day.
But Tongariro eventually triumphed; for he found a stout ally in old Ruapehu. Taranaki was forced to flee, and in his haste tore up the deep furrow of the Wanganui River. At the end of the Wanganui he stopped to look back, but he could still see the scornful laugh of his mistress, and the lightning-flashing glances of his enemies. He wandered on, therefore, as far as Patea, but from here he could still see his hated foes. So he went on a hundred miles farther, until he came to the sea. There he remains to this day, his face,
From the Maori huts I had a day's march of 25 miles to put behind me. On the way I was constantly bathed in sweat on account of the heavy load I carried, and yet I had frequently to wade through streams of icy-cold snow-water. The path led as far as Tokaanu on Lake Taupo, through a broad pumice valley overgrown with fern. From quite a distance I could see the steam from the puias and geysers of this place.
After it became dark, I spied in the distance a light, to which I made my way. I came to a Maori hut, and inquired of the occupants the way to the hotel, which I had heard was to be found at Tokaanu. The Maoris showed me the way all right, but it was so dark that I missed the track.
Suddenly I felt myself seized by the arm and pulled back. Turning round, I saw a native woman, who shouted to me, 'Hot, hot!' In the darkness I had been taking the quickest route — into a hot spring! Even natives of the place have lost their lives in this way. This woman then accompanied me into Tokaanu.
Tokaanu on Lake Taupo is an outlet of the volcanic territory. This magnificent lake, the largest in New Zealand, spreads out over a plain which is enclosed on all sides by mountains. Near the east bank, at the bottom of the lake, lies a sunken forest, visible on calm, clear days.
Tokaanu is the starting-point for various very interesting excursions: for example, to the volcanoes Tongariro, Ngauruhoe, and Ruapehu; also to the waterfall of Waihi, where the famous chief,
To-day, Tokaanu is a holiday resort much frequented by Europeans, though during the time I was in New Zealand practically none but Maoris enjoyed the salutary effects of the puias. In the last war against the English, when the chief, Powrini, was suffering from severe wounds, the natives carried him here to one of these warm springs, in which he bathed daily, and which was afterwards named after him. He was still living here at the time of my visit, and had completely recovered, although a bullet still remained in his thigh and he had some terrible holes through his body.
From Tokaanu I went first to Taupo, and thence to Wairakei to the Geyser Valley. This valley is continually boiling and steaming from innumerable geysers, and the sight of them is a marvellous natural spectacle. The great Wairakei Geyser, for example, every six minutes shoots up boiling water to a height of 28 feet, though in the intervals one can walk to the very edge of the geyser and look into the steam-filled abyss. Near by one hears subterranean noises roaring incessantly; they sound like the strokes of a mighty sledge-hammer.
Farther along the valley lies the 'petrifying geyser,' in which all objects become covered over with a layer of sinter. Formerly it shot its water 23 feet into the air, but since the Tarawera eruption in 1886, it has fallen about 5 feet. In this valley there is also, a black geyser containing iron, and little mud-volcanoes of boiling yellow or rose-coloured mud. The 'Champagne Bowl' is a geyser whose water looks like ever-sparkling Moselle; and there is besides a wonderful deep blue pool, and another little pond from the bottom of which continuous hollow blows resound, and whose banks shake every two minutes.
From here I wandered on through the broad Kaingaroa Plain, where herds of wild cattle and horses were to be seen, to Orakei, a Maori pa lying not far from the Waikato River. Here there are more hot springs and geysers.
I continued on from there over the grass-grown tableland, Tahunatahi. In several places the remains of fortifications, with earthworks and trenches, caught the eye. Orakeikorako came in sight; likewise a Maori village which contained two beautifully carved runangas. This village lies at the foot of a high moun-tain; the Waikato winds through the valley below, and along its banks springs of blue, yellow, and green colour are to be found. In the immediate neighbourhood of the village lies an ovally formed mountain which expels jets of steam out of hundreds of holes. A beautiful alum cave is not far off.
I followed the Waikato between high hills as far as Ateamuri, whence a good road leads along the
As I reached the Turepa Valley, the volcano Maunga-kakaramea came in sight, its white, red, and yellow sinter terraces gleaming from afar. This mountain is very porous, and to climb it requires great care, as the ground often gives way. From its summit I had a beautiful view over the volcanic territory, including seven lakes, the Kaingaroa Plain, and the interesting Waiotapu Valley.
At the foot of the mountain lies the Lake Ngahewa. Before the eruption in 1886 its waters were quite clear, and the abode of innumerable fish, crayfish, and mussels. After the eruption, however, the water became cloudy, and every living creature was killed off. The Waiotapu Valley I found of special interest on account of its many craters.
Over fields of ashes and mud, the territory of the terrible Tarawera eruption, I journeyed on to Wairoa, the once flourishing bathing-resort on the shores of Lake Tarawera. Near by were, but two years ago, the famous White and Red Terraces of Rotomahana, that fabulous formation which, together with the whole place, has suffered destruction.
The eruption of Mount Tarawera took place early in the morning of June 10, 1886. Unusual liveliness of the geysers and volcanoes around had already been noticed some months before. On June 10, at half-past three in the morning, great consternation
On the night of the eruption the earth began to tremble. During the eruption tongues of fire shot out of the crater to a height of 9 miles, and a rain of fireballs fell over all the surrounding country. The geysers exhibited terrible energy, the earth was in incessant movement, and a number of new volcanoes appeared to spit out enormous quantities of ashes, lava, and stones. The neighbourhood was plunged into complete darkness; the frightened inhabitants fled naked from the scene.
Wairoa was completely buried, the famous terraces were destroyed, Lake Rotomahana evaporated and completely dried up, and great fissures opened in the earth. One or two hundred natives fell victim to the terrible anger of Nature.
Simultaneously with the eruption of Tarawera an outbreak occurred in the supposedly extinct Ruapehu. A large lake of boiling water was formed in the crater at the summit.
Mud and ashes still lay here, in many places over 6 feet high, two years after the eruption. The buried territory was more than 20 miles in extent, the former mighty and beautiful Tikitapu bush being nothing but
A striking figure emerges from the scene of this great catastrophe. It is that of Tuhoto, a priest or tohunga of the Maori. He had believed that the guilt for the great eruption rested on him for his exorcisms, and he remained during the outbreak in his hut by Mount Tarawera. He was naturally buried, and only dug but after five days, still alive. Later, when his vermin-covered hair was shorn, and the greatest possible insult thereby done him which could possibly befall a priest, he died-through auto-suggestion.
I climbed Te Kumi, a steep ascent. The slopes were covered with ashes and mud, and I found it a stiff job to clamber over the cracks and fissures. From the top I had a fine view over the waste district to the north-east, over the mountains Whakapounga, Maungatatari, and Rangitoto to the west, Parapara and Mount Edgecumbe to the east, and the Kaima-nawas, Tongariro, and Ruapehu to the south, as well a over a number of lakes.
Then I went farther on to the destroyed village of Tikitapu, in the neighbourhood of which a pool of a milk-white colour is' to be found, which sometimes rises as much as 2 inches within four hours without the surface appearing to be disturbed.
For a few days more I explored the surroundings of Ohinemutu on Lake Rotorua, and then took the post-coach through the bush to Oxford. Through Mata-mata, a model farm, I walked on to Enterprise.
We reached the quay at about one o'clock in the morning of June 10, 1888. I was surprised to hear an old familiar voice call out: 'Hullo, old man, come along to my house!' It was my friend, Grainger, who had been waiting for me since ten o'clock.
My last expedition in New Zealand was finished. In the course of it I had done 320 miles, mostly on foot. While passing through the volcanic district, I had been shaken during the nights by earthquakes. I found the hot baths had done me much good. From this expedition I brought back a rich collection of mineral, ore, and volcanic stones, which I sent along to the State Geological Institute in Vienna.
In Auckland, news of a highly distressing nature was awaiting me, I found that the contents of a number of boxes, containing the valuable, and for the most part irrecoverable, spoils of my last expedition, had been spoiled in transit. The press, and also a number of prominent private people, demanded that the State, on whose steamer the boxes had been dispatched, should compensate me for my loss; but this I refused.
Except for a few short excursions, as those of September 1888 and of January 1889, to Papakuru,
"The Council and Members of the Auckland Institute desire to record their appreciation of the valuable services rendered to the cause of Science in New Zealand by
Mr. A. Reischek , who has spent twelve years of unwearying and enthusiastic devotion in studying the Natural History and more particularly the Ornithology of the Colony. They desire to recognise his ready assistance, and also all the singular zeal he has displayed in exploring the most rugged, inaccessible, and unknown parts of the country in order to study the habits of the rarer and more interesting members of our avifauna, so many of which are fast disappearing under the influence of advancing civilisation.'This Institute wishes Mr. Reischek the success and recognition in Europe which his arduous and valuable researches in New Zealand so well deserve.
Auckland, New Zealand,February18, 1889.'
I Left Auckland on February 20, 1889. My last weeks there were an interwoven pattern of joy and sorrow. I received a host of farewell visits and letters and testimonials for my services in the Colony.
To tear myself away at last from this country, which had become my second homeland, and from the many true friends I had made, upset me very much. The steamer sailed in the afternoon: soon the white
I reached the shores of my native land on April 13, landing at Trieste; and two days later my train pulled into the station I had left twelve years earlier, the Süd Bahnhof at Vienna.
Thus concludes the narrative of my father's life in New Zealand. But in welcoming him back, a silent heroine of his story must not be forgotten. Through all sorts of privations and hardships Reischek's wife, my never-to-be-forgotten mother, had waited for him in unchangeable trust and love.
After a brief and happy marriage, she, a young and lusty bride, had seen her husband leave her for 'three years' at the other side of the universe. When at the end of that time he did not return, but wrote instead that his work and his interest belonged to this strange new country and to the cause of Science, she accepted this renunciation without demur, thereby sacrificing her own natural rights and many, many hundred happy days of her youth.
Hair streaked with silver, she now awaited on the platform with trembling heart the return of this bronzed and bearded man who had become a stranger to her. As she ran towards him, he must have felt the pangs of remorse for all those forsworn years of youth and love. Only from her eyes there still shone youth, and love, and happiness — as he embraced her and stooped in the welcoming kiss of return.
Two years afterwards a son was born to them. Reischek's life had achieved a new purpose. Work for the Science that he loved was over; now began a life of devotion to his family.
I look upon it as a deed of almost Biblical heroism that my father, a man of liberal mind and spirit, coming from a land of liberty where men are esteemed for worth of character rather than class or place, should, in the narrow confines of the homeland, have accepted the yoke of servitude without bitterness or thought of flight. Fresh from the free life of an English Colony, and the noble simplicity of the Maori, he had to suffer anew the domineering caste spirit which condemned him to poverty on the ground that he was merely a self-made man, a taxidermist, and no academic scholar.
On his return, Reischek fondly hoped that the Imperial Museum would purchase his collection without delay. He was poor, and could not make a gift of it, but in the immediate need of providing himself with a home, demanded for it far, far less than he had expended. He was made to wait, however, while a newspaper war ensued on the subject. Meanwhile,
Reischek held out, however, and at last a number of his countrymen subscribed to present the collection to the Imperial Museum, now the State Museum, where a special Reischek Exhibition was held some four years ago, in 1926.
The annals of the Natural History Section for the year 1890 state: 'The significance of this collection lies in the ethnographical and zoological sections. The first includes 453 specimens from New Zealand, and must be the last great collection of Maori objects to reach Europe. Among them are 37 Maori skulls — a number reached by few collections, but of first-class importance in view of the perfect condition of the specimens. The ornithological objects total 3016 specimens, 738 being of extinct exotic birds, and 2278 specimens of the ornis of New Zealand, including a number of new species. The mammals comprise 120 skins; fishes and reptiles some 8000 objects; while the Reischek collection of plants contains 2406 items.'
After seeing this collection safely housed, Reischek bought a small house at Käfermarkt, so that he could live again amongst the woods where he had first gone hunting. After a few years, he moved to Linz, his birthplace, where he was asked to superintend the formation of the new Francis-Caroline Museum; and
I can see him clearly before me now, his large, sinewy frame, with its high, expressive forehead, the fine nose, and those wonderful deep-set eyes, as I trotted beside him through the meadows and woods, while he taught me the secrets of their animal inhabitants. Those were joyful hours, too, while the boy listened to his father's life and experiences in faraway New Zealand. On still evenings, in the loving circle of his acquaintances, Reischek would sometimes bring out that trusty companion of his wanderings, his mouth-organ, and play this primitive instrument as I have never heard any one play it before or since.
Returning to his ice-cold Museum laboratory one day after a day's excavation of an old Roman camp in the vicinity, Reischek caught a severe chill, from which he never properly recovered. On April 3, 1902, he was suddenly taken worse. He asked for me continually, and the moment I ran back from school and entered the room, it was to catch the last glimpse of those smiling, fascinating eyes.
Readers will find some of the more solid scientific results of Reischek's work embodied in the Transactions and Proceedings of the New Zealand Institute, 1881-1888 inclusive, and throughout the second and subsequent editions of The Birds of New Zealand.
The following papers appear in the name of Transactions:
Vol. XIV.)
Vol. XVII.)
Vol. XVIII.)
Pogonornis cincta (Tiora),' pp. 84-87. Procellaria parkinsoni (Brown Petrel),' pp. 87-90.
Vol. XIX.)
Vol. XX.)
Proceedings of Wellington Philosophical Society), p. 441.
Vol. XXI.)
Diomedia exulans (Wandering Albatross),' pp. 126-128.
The following papers may also be referred to, as they deal with Reischek's observations:
Vol. XV.)
Vol. XXII.)
References to Reischek in Buller's Birds of New Zealand (second and subsequent editions) include:
Vol. I. — Black-wattled Crow (pp. 3-4); Creadion carunculatus (p. 19); Jack-bird (pp. 22-23); Bush-warbler (p. 50); White-head (p. 54); Bell-bird (p. 82); Ti-ora (pp. 103-105); Rock-wren p. 112); Rifleman (p. 114); Orange-fronted Parakeet (p. 146); Kaka (pp. 153-154); Kakapo (p. 178 and pp. 188-189); New Zealand Quail-hawk (p. 216); and Bush-hawk (p. 224).
Vol. II. — Notornis mantelli (p. 93); North Island Wood-hen (p. 107); Black Wood-hen (p. 114); Brown Wood-hen (p. 115); Pied Shag (p. 152); Sooty Albatross (p. 205); Cook's Petrel (p. 218); White-headed Petrel (p. 219); Allied Shearwater (p. 239); Black Petrel (pp. 243-244); Grey-faced — or Gould's — Petrel (p. 246); Grey-backed Storm-petrel (p. 247); Brown Duck (p. 258); Blue Duck (pp. 277-278); Blue Penguin (p. 301); South Island Kiwi (p. 326).
My thanks are due to Mrs. Staples Brown, Mr. H. T. B. Drew,
New Zealand owes a great deal to one of its almost forgotten pioneers - an Austrian taxidermist named
In the course of eight extended expeditions into areas ranging from the far North to Fiordland and the remote islands of Antarctica, he collected the almost incredible total of 14,000 specimens of birds, fishes, reptiles and plants. On his return to Europe he presented the whole of this scientific treasure to the country of his birth. Before his death in Austria in 1902, Reischek recorded his discoveries, and adventures, and his impressions of New Zealand, particularly of the Maori people, in a book, "Yesterdays in Maoriland," an English translation of which, nowever, did not appear until 1930. Its inclusion, 40 years later, in Wilson & Horton Limited's facsimile series of notable books about New ZealandBy courtesy of the Auckland Institute Library.
Reischek had the happy knack of recording his adventures (in several of which he could well have lost his life) in simple, non-technical language. Whether he is describing his part in arranging exhibits in the Christchurch, Wanganui or Auckland Museums; the pursuit of a particularly rare bird among the cliffs and chasms of Little Barrier Island; or the almost incredible sagacity of his dog Caesar, the constant companion of his travels, his style is always simple and unaffected.
Cover picture: Bush scene, from "The New Zealanders Illustrated," 1847, by