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Chapter VIII. The Frenchman's Story.

That night we learned the story of the white man living with the Maoris. He was a French seaman, and had been shipwrecked on the West Coast some distance south of Milford Sound. His vessel was completely broken up, and his comrades, all but one, were drowned. This one was washed ashore in a disabled condition, and although he gave him every care, the difficulty of procuring food and sufficient shelter was too great, and his comrade expired on the day after being cast ashore. Louis Jars—for that was the name of our new-found companion—had no knowledge of the country upon the shores of which he had been cast, and wandered aimlessly inland in the hope of finding some inhabited district. For days he trudged about, existing on the scantiest of fare provided by the different native berries and the flesh of an occasional bird he was able to knock over with a stick or a stone. Struggling through the thick and almost impenetrable bush, he had several times lain down with the fixed dread that he might not wake again, or waking, would perhaps be unable to pursue his weary journey further. Fortunately it was not cold weather, and sleeping in the open air did not prove injurious.

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With refreshing sleep came a revival of hope, and each morning he nerved himself for further efforts.

After a week of incessant toil, without any prospect of approaching scenes of civilisation and settlement, he began to lament his imprudence in striking inland instead of keeping along the seacoast. His clothes were being torn and destroyed by the rough experiences of forest travelling.

One day on climbing a high tree with the view of ascertaining what was the best direction to take, he beheld smoke rising near the bank of a small stream some miles further from the coast. His delight at this discovery must have been great, for the bright glow of animation which lit up his face as he recounted the fact to us infused a feeling of excitement into each of us who understood his words. Quickly descending the tree, he pushed on towards the spot, and was yet some distance away when he saw two Maoris walking in the direction of the fire.

The sight of the Maoris did not inspire him with hope or confidence. He had not any knowledge of the New Zealand aboriginal, and became filled with misgivings as to the fate in store for him at their hands if discovered.

After an earnest debate with his doubts and fears, he determined to seek the hospitality of the Maoris, and accept the fate an appeal to them might bestow. He bethought him that he might with some advantage make use of the natural superstition of the savage mind. Nearer approach to the native camp revealed to him that a feast was in progress. It was about noon, and the mid-day sun shone fiercely hot upon the leas wooded part where the Maoris sat. He watched them eagerly while the feast proceeded.

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After they had finished they all stretched themselves out upon the grass, and he judged that they were soon fast asleep. This he knew to be his opportunity, and creeping quietly forward, he first satisfied the cravings of his hunger with the remains of the feast, and tasted the first cooked food he had eaten for days. Nothing disturbed him while so occupied, and with the dispersion of his feeling of hunger he assumed a bolder frame of mind, and became nerved to meet the worst. With his physical wants supplied, hope revived within him. He determined to take up a commanding attitude and confront the natives on their awaking, and with this object selected the highest ground of the bank on which they lay. Here he stood awaiting their return from the land of dreams—stood like a statue for upwards of an hour, filled with thoughts of how his presence would be received, and not without nervous dread that the result of his experiment might be disastrous. Presently two of the Maoris rolled over as if waking, and the heart of the solitary watcher beat high. For some minutes longer he waited in anxious expectation, and then one of the natives rose to a sitting posture. The Maori's back was turned to Jars. Extending his foot, this man touched his companion nearest him, and woke him also. The latter rose on his knees, and saw the form of the white man standing majestically in front and above him. With a face depicting horrified surprise, he gazed for some moments at the seeming apparition. Then with a cry of terror he fell on his hands and knees, and cried aloud as if supplicating a deity. This sound awoke the others. The sudden surprise, coming after the cry of their companion, page 70filled them with wonder and superstition, and with one accord they fell upon their knees before Jars, and extended their hands in supplication. He held out his hands towards them, which seemed to give them courage, as they all rose to their feet, and beckoned towards the Maori who appeared to be their chief, desiring him to approach Jars. As the chief advanced they all squatted down, and remained in mute astonishment while the chief spoke. Coming forward to where Jars stood, this chief, Te Kahu, whom we also had seen first, greeted him in a manner demonstrating clearly to their visitor that they regarded him with some superstitious awe. Then he offered food, of which Jars partook. This seemed to please the Maoris, and to set their minds at rest, for at once they all came forward and offered something to the white man—some a weapon, some an ornament, others some article of food, until each of the company made, as it were, a peace-offering to their visitor. Then the chief invited Jars to return to their village, an invitation he was nothing loth to accept.

At the village his reception had been much the same as that which had fallen to our lot, and from that time his treatment by the natives had been of the most hospitable description. He had lived amongst them for upwards of eight years, and become acquainted with all their manners and customs.

Jars told us that we should never have any cause to regret coming amongst this tribe, and that we would be greatly struck with many of their manners and modes of life and government. Some years ago a war party from a distance had made an inroad into their territory, which led page 71to a regular battle, and it was only after strenuous fighting that the invaders had been beaten off and compelled to retreat. The invading party belonged to a much less civilised tribe than that amongst which we had come, and, Jars firmly believed, practised cannibalism. The tribe with which we had now become interested were, Jars said, Rangitani, while the party who had attacked them were supposed to be an offshoot of the Waikato. There was some fear that this tribe would again attack the village of the Rangitani, but as many years had passed this had gradually lessened.

The Rangitani were not a warlike tribe, and the inhabitants of this village were very industrious, and engaged in the arts of agriculture to a degree somewhat remarkable amongst savages. They had a regular system of government, and elected a Council of nine members, who conducted their affairs. This Council had supreme control of all the business of the tribe. The leading chief (Ariki) of the tribe was elected by the vote of the whole at intervals of every fortieth moon (about three years), and presided over the meetings of the Council.

He was the supreme head of the tribe in every respect, and carried out the decrees of the Council. He had the power of dismissing the three members of the Council who were elected by the lowest number of votes and of electing three others, whom he could dismiss from time to time. This chief and his Council were the nominal owners of all the land of the tribe, and apportioned it out for cultivation by the different members. Any disputes as to boundaries or possession had to be submitted to the Council, whose decision was final. A proportion of all the produce of the page 72soil was paid to the Council for the purpose of maintaining the Government. Each member of the Government performed certain public functions, such as that of registering marriages, a ceremony which was simply a contract, witnessed by any member of the Council, that the contracting parties became man and wife.

Before any female having brothers could lawfully marry, she must obtain the consent of all her brothers. The Rangitani did not consider the consent of the parents of any moment; but brothers, being entitled to all the family property, must give their consent to a sister's marriage, as by marriage the husband became one of them, and entitled to a brother's share of the property. The only heritable property was in the nature of moveables, as land, being the property of the tribe as a whole and vested in the Council as trustees, could not be disposed of by inheritance.

If a sister married without the consent of her brothers, she forfeited her connection with the family, and bestowed no brotherly rights on her husband.

No young man was allowed to marry until he had first satisfied the Council of his ability to maintain a wife.

Among them the wife was treated with every consideration and respect, for her position was far superior to what is generally looked for amongst uncivilised people. There were some occupations that fell only to the lot of women, and several menial duties must of necessity be performed by them, it being against the law of the tribe for a male to undertake them. The preparation and service of food, the weaving of mats and garments and things of that nature, were altogether prohibited to men. The arts of page 73agriculture, fishing, &c., were performed by the men, who were remarkably industrious and regular in their habits.

We recollected seeing some cultivated fields on the banks of the river not far from the village, and learned from Jars that these were part of the cultivations belong-to the tribe. As we spoke, Macdonald gave a cry of surprised alarm. He had not understood the Frenchman's language, and, having withdrawn from the circle listening to his narrative, was nearer the door than any of us. The cause of his disturbance was quickly made apparent by the entrance of a small dog-like animal, which calmly walked into the middle of the floor, and lay down as unconcernedly as if nobody were present. Observing our surprise, Jars at once explained that this was the Kuri, or native dog. In appearance it was not unlike a small-sized collie of mongrel breed, with long, coarse, shaggy hair, and short, erect ears. The colour of the animal was a dull brown, with some white spots. It lacked the intelligent look of a European dog, and in answer to Jars' call, "Moi, Moi," which, he explained, was the term universally adopted by the Maoris in calling their dogs, it came to him with a very timid, undecided air, and on his seeking to fondle it, and its seeing us, it rushed from the building with a frightened howl, and set up a melancholy whining most uncomfortable to our ears. Jars explained to us that this was the only domesticated animal the Maoris had, and that they bred and reared large numbers of them as articles of diet. The repulsiveness of this to our minds was not removed by his assertion that when he overcame his objection, and tasted cooked dog, he found it a dish not page 74to be despised in any way. Subsequently we added a similar fact to our experience, and I must confess that the remarkable way in which the Maori performed the culinary art, which reduced his dog to baked meat, left nothing suggestive of repulsiveness about it.

Jars told us that the only other quadrupeds used as food by the Maoris were pigs (poaka), which abounded in the neighbourhood, but were not kept in confinement, and a native rat (kiore), which was excellent eating. This rat was more like an enlarged mouse than the European rat with which we are acquainted, and formed no inconsiderable part of the food supply of the Maoris.

I shall never forget the look of intense disgust displayed by Macdonald when I told him that the dog he had seen would probably be served up some day for his dinner, and that he would be expected to look upon cooked rats as a delicacy. For some moments he looked at me with astonished repulsiveness, then, when he found a tongue, he accused me of "haverin'," and declared that he would as soon think of eating the Maoris themselves.

"Certies! if this is what ye've brocht me tae, ye can ca' awa hame as suin as ye like."

"But, Mac, Jars says that rats and dogs are excellent eating," I replied, trying to reconcile him to a trial.

"Hoot! jabberin" body, what daes he ken aboot eatin' flesh. I'm no sayin', but I dinna doot that he never tastit onythin' but frogs afore he cam' tae this kintry."

This was too much for me, and I had to give up the attack in a fit of laughter, which only tended to the further exasperation of the Scotchman.