Tales of Banks Peninsula

Front matter

TALES

OF

BANKS PENINSULA

Stories of Banks Peninsula No. 1.—Maori History of Banks Peninsula

Stories

of

Banks Peninsula.

No. 1.—Maori History of Banks Peninsula.

(Contributed by the Rev. J. W. Stack.)

To all who know how attentively the Maoris noted the physical features of the country, and the prolific character of their geographical nomenclature, it is somewhat perplexing to find that an isolated region, with a conformation so marked as Banks Peninsula, does not possess a distinctive Maori name: unless, indeed, the present inhabitants have lost the knowledge of it, and confined to a part a name which originally embraced the whole. I am inclined to think that this is the case. In ancient times the whole island was spoken of as “The fish,” and even now the northern part of it is called “Mua upoko” (the front-head), while the southern part is called “Muri-hiku” (rear-tail). I think it is highly probable that when the first explorers, looking southwards from the neighborhood of Kaikoura, saw the Peninsula looming up against the sky, they took it to be the limit of the land’s extent, and called it accordingly the Hiku, or tail-end of the fish. But the combination of Rangi (sky) with Hiku may point to another derivation, since Hikurangi is the name of a mountain at the head of the Waiapu Valley, near East Cape. The name may possibly have been applied to this peninsula from some fancied resemblance in its appearance, when first sighted from the north, to the well-known mountain near the ancient home of the Ngatikahunu tribes.

Whether the Peninsula was ever inhabited by people of another race it is impossible to say, owing to the absence of conclusive evidence either one way or the other. My friend Dr. Von Haast rather inclines to the opinion that it was, being led to the conclusion by some discoveries he made in the moa bone cave near Sumner. But there is nothing to be found in the existing traditions relating to the locality, which can be relied upon as affording any evidence that the Maoris knew that the country was occupied before they came here. The demigods of whom they speak as having been the first discoverers and explorers of these islands, cannot be regarded as the representatives of an aboriginal people, because the stories relating to them are common to all sections of the Polynesian race, and evidently belong to persons and events connected with Maori history in distant ages, long before the migration from Hawaiki.

There is reason to believe that Banks Peninsula has been occupied by the Maori for a period of four hundred years, though the existing historical traditions of the people only reach back for half that period. The absence of the earlier traditions is, however, easily accounted for by the fact that two successive waves of conquest swept over the entire South Island after it was first peopled, the conquering tribe in each case being careful to obliterate as far as possible all traces of the former inhabitants, in order to render its own title to possession more secure.

The Waitaha, who came originally from Hawaiki to Maketu, in the canoe Arawa, were the first Maori inhabitants of these parts. They gradually made their way from the Bay of Plenty to the South Island (then known as Tumuki), where they multiplied so rapidly that they are said “to have covered the face of the land like myriads of ants.”

The Waitaha were conquered and destroyed, somewhere about the year 1577, by the Ngatimamoe, a tribe from the East Coast of the North Island, whose ancestors came to Poverty Bay from Hawaiki in the canoe Tokomaru. The Ngatimamoe did not long enjoy the fruits of their triumph. In little more than a hundred years they were despoiled by Ngai Tahu, also an East Coast tribe, descendants of the crew of the canoes Taki timu, Kura haupo, and Mata horua, and were by them subjected to the same cruel process of extermination by which they had secured their own conquest of Waitaha.

Before entering on the narrative of Ngai Tahu’s doings on Banks Peninsula, it may be interesting to relate what the Maoris say about one monument of the former inhabitants that still remains, known as the

Pa of Nga-Toko-Ono (The Pa of the Six).

Between Fisherman's and Paua Bay, on the edge of a bold cliff, may still be seen the remains of the most ancient Maori pa in this locality. The date of its occupation can only be a matter of conjecture, but if it belonged to the Ngatimamoe, as generally reported, it must be from three to four hundred years old. When Ngai Tahu first arrived, the pa was in much the same condition that it is now: nothing but the earthworks remained to mark where it once stood. In answer to their inquiries respecting its origin, they were told that it was the pa of Nga-toko-ono, and that the tradition about it was, that six chiefs once dwelt there, who went out one day in their canoes to fish, about a mile from the coast, when they were caught by a violent north-west wind, and were blown out to sea and never heard of again.

Some light has lately been thrown upon the fate of these men by the Chatham Islanders, who say that their ancestors arrived at Wharekauri after being blown off the coast of their own land. They also speak of some of their ancestors coming from the foot of Te-ahu-patiki (Mount Herbert), and that the reason for their leaving was owing to the defeat and death of their chief Tira, who was killed while endeavouring to punish his daughter's husband, who had been guilty of adultery. On reaching Wharekauri, they were kindly received by Marupo, the chief of a Maori-speaking race. By the advice of their hosts, the new arrivals resolved to give up fighting and cannibalism. The Maori refugees carried kumara seeds with them, but on planting them they died, so they returned to New Zealand for a further supply. The question naturally arises, How did Tira’s people know of the existence of Wharekauri? It seems highly probable that, after discovering the islands, Nga-toko-ono or some of them returned to inform their friends, who gladly availed themselves of a safe refuge from the relentless Ngai Tahu, whose successes in the northern parts of the island were beginning to cause them anxiety regarding their future safety.

Parakakariki.

Not far from the pa of Nga-toko-ono may be seen the outlines of the protective works of another ancient pa, known as Parakakariki. It was situated at the end of one of the spurs on the south side of Long Bay, and was an important stronghold of the Ngatimamoe. It was captured and destroyed by Moki, who, in the celebrated war canoe Makawhiu, coasted round the Peninsula, and completely subdued all the Ngatimamoe inhabitants.

This chief, who resided, after the Ngai Tahu migration, at Ote Kaue, near the mouth of the Wairau River, was induced to undertake the expedition against the Peninsula by the report brought to him by his wife’s two brothers, Kaiapu and Te Makino, who had accompanied Waitai on his voyage from Wairau to Otago, when that chief, offended by Maru’s determination to spare the Ngatimamoe, seceded from the Ngai Tahu confederacy. These two men had noticed, while coasting southwards, the vast extent of the plains stretching from the sea shore to the snowy ranges, and had also been particular to mark the position of the numerous Ngatimamoe pas passed during the voyage. When their canoe touched at Hikurangi, they had learnt that their old tribal enemy Tu te Kawa was living not far off at Waikakahi, a piece of information which afterwards led to important results.

After accompanying Waitai to Murihiku, and taking part in various encounters between his forces and the hostile tribes by which he was surrounded, Kaiapu and Te Makino were seized with a longing desire to avenge the death of a near female relative, and, in order to accomplish their purpose, they resolved to risk the journey overland to Wairau. As they travelled over the plains between the Waitangi and Waipara Rivers, they remarked with covetous eyes the luxuriant growth of the cabbage palms, so highly valued for the favorite kauru food prepared from the stems. They were astonished at the immense numbers of wekas and rats which they came across in the long tussock grass, and were equally astonished to find all the streams and lakes throughout the country swarming with eels and lampreys and silveries, and the great Waihora Lake full of flat-fish.

They passed safely through the hostile country, and reached the outskirts of Ote Kaue, when they made enquiries for Moki's house. They were told that they could not mistake it, as it was the loftiest building in the pa, with the widest barge boards to the porch. They did not enter the pa until every one had retired to rest, when they made their way to the house indicated, and sat down close to the breakwind near the porch, where they waited till some one appeared to whom they could make themselves known. About midnight their sister came out, and after sitting a few minutes in the yard, rose to return to the house. Hoping to attract her notice without making any noise, one of them opened a parcel of tara mea scent, which he had concealed about him. She no sooner perceived the delicious fragrance than she approached the spot where her brothers were crouching, feeling her way towards them along the breakwind. As soon as she reached them they caught hold of her, when she gave a sharp cry, but they at once silenced her fears by telling her who they were. She was overjoyed by the discovery, and quickly re-entered the house to inform her husband. “Rise up, rise up, O Moki!” she cried, “here are your brothers-in-law, the sons of Pokai whao; they have returned, and are awaiting your pleasure outside.” Moki told her to bring the travellers in, and to prepare some food at once for them, but not to make their arrival known to the pa till the morning. Marewa knew how important it was for her brothers’ safety that they should take food under Moki’s roof, because it would ensure his protection in the event of their meeting with persons inclined to kill them; for in these stormy times it was the common practice for individuals to avenge their private wrongs, and in doing so it was quite immaterial whether they killed the person who had done them the injury, so long as they killed some one connected with him; unprotected people were therefore always in great danger of losing their lives. It was not surprising, therefore, that under the circumstances Moki’s wife displayed the greatest alacrity in providing refresh for her husband’s guests, selecting the materials from her choicest stores. She listened till dawn to the story of their adventures by sea and land, and then she went to carry the news of their arrival to the other great chiefs of the place.

Te Rangi Whakaputa was the first to come and welcome them. He asked whether they had seen any good country towards the south. They replied that they had. “What food,” he asked, “is procurable there?” “Fern root,” they replied, “is one food, kauru is another, and there are wekas and rats and eels in abundance,” He then retired, and Mango took his place and asked, “Did you see any good country in your travels?” “Yes,” they replied, “Ohiriri (Little River), that is, a stream, we saw, and Wairewa is the lake.” “And what food can be got there?” he asked, “Fern root,” they said, “is one food, but there are many kinds; there are wekas and kaka and kereru and eels.” Mango replied, “Inland is a pillow for my head, on the coast a rest for my feet.” Te Rua hiki hiki, son of Manawa, was the next to enter and interrogate them. He, too, asked, “Have you seen any land?” They replied, “We saw Kaitorete, a plain, and Waihora, a lake.” “What food can be got there?” “Eels,” they said, “abound there, and patiki and ducks and putangitangi are food to be got there.” “That shall be my possession,” said Te Rua hiki hiki.

But there was another and still more powerful incentive than the acquisition of a rich food-producing district to induce Ngai Tahu to undertake an expedition to the south, and that was the desire to vindicate the tribal honour. No sooner did Moki and the rest of the leading chiefs learn from the two travellers that Tu te kawa was still living at Waikakahi, than orders were immediately issued to prepare the great war canoe, Te Maka whiu, for sea. This canoe was made out of an enormous totara tree which grew in the Wairarapa Valley, the stump of which was shown until quite lately by the old Maoris there. On the completion of the conquest of Ngati-mamoe, the canoe was drawn up at Omihi, where it was subsequently buried by a landslip, the projecting bow only being left exposed. It was regarded as a sacred treasure under the immediate guardianship of atuas, and one man, who presumed to chip a piece off as a memento, paid the penalty of his sacreligious rashness by dying immediately afterwards.

Tu Te Kawa.

The feud between the chief Tu te kawa and the ruling family of Ngai Tahu was caused by his having put Tuahuriri’s wives to death at Te-mata-ki-kai-poika, a pa on the south-east coast of the North Island. Tuahuriri had from some cause incurred the ill-will of a powerful member of his own tribe, the renowned warrior Hika-oro-roa. That chief assembled his relations and dependents, amongst whom was Tu te kawa, and led them to attack Tuahuriri’s pa. When they were approaching the place at dawn of day, and just as the leader was preparing to take the foremost post in the assault, a youth named Turuki, eager to distinguish himself, rushed past Hika-ora-roa, who uttered an exclamation of surprise and indignation at his presumption, asking in sneering tones “how a nameless warrior could dare to try and snatch the credit of a victory he had done nothing to win.” Turuki, burning with shame at the taunt, rushed back to the rear, and addressed himself to Tu te kawa, who was the head of his family, and besought him to withdraw his contingent, and proceed at once to attack the pa from the opposite side, and thus secure the victory for himself, and for ever prevent such a reproach from again being uttered against any one of his family. Tu te kawa, who resented keenly the insult offered to his young relative, instantly adopted his suggestion, and so rapidly did he effect the movement, that his absence was not discovered till he had successfully assaulted the pa, and his name was being shouted forth as victor. A few moments before the assault took place, Tu te kawa said to his nephew, “Go quickly and rouse Tuahuriri.” The young warrior ran forward, and on reaching the pa called out, “O Tu.” “What is it?” he asked. “Come forth.” “Wait till I fasten on my waistbelt.” “Wait for nothing; escape, they are close here!” “Where?” “Just behind my back.” Without stopping to put on a garment or to pick up his weapons, Tuahuriri rushed out of his house, climbed over the wall, and ran for his life to the shelter of a neighbouring wood. Tu te kawa was the first to enter the pa, and at once made his way to Tuahuriri’s house, where he found his two wives, Hina kai taki and Tuara whati. These women were persons of great distinction, being related to all the principal families in that part of the country, and their lives ought to have been quite safe in the hands of their husband’s relatives. But Tu te kawa turned a deaf ear to their appeal for protection, and killed them both. Though accused of killing these women unnecessarily, it is very probable that he may have put them to death to save the family honour, as it was no disgrace to die by the hands of a near kinsman, and he had good reason to suspect that Hika-oro-roa, having lost the credit of the victory, and having failed to secure the husband, would take his revenge on the wives. Tu te kawa might have argued, if they must die, it was better he should kill them.

When the war party were re-embarking in their canoes, a few hours after, Tuahuriri came out to the edge of the forest, and called to Tu te kawa, and asked him whether he had got his waist-cloth, belt, and weapons. On being answered in the affirmative, he begged that they might be returned to him. Tu te kawa stood up in his canoe and flung them towards him, telling him at the same time what had happened to his wives. After picking up his weapons, Tuahuriri turned towards his cousin, whom he wished to reward for having saved his life, and called out, “O Tu, keep out to sea, or keep in shore, rather keep in shore.” This was a friendly intimation intended to save Tu te kawa from the destruction about to fall upon his companions in arms; for no sooner were the canoes under weigh than Tuahuriri retired into the depths of the forest, and there invoked the help of his atuas to enable him to take vengeance on his enemies, and by their agency he raised the furious wind known as Te-hau-o-rongo mai. This tempest dispersed Hika-oro-roa’s fleet, and most of his canoes were upset, and the crews drowned, in the stormy waters of Raukawa (Cook Straits). Tu te kawa, forewarned, had hugged the coast, and so escaped destruction. After crossing the straits, he landed on the South Island, where he decided to remain, and so escape the inevitable consequences of the attack on Tuahuriri’s pa. He had nothing to fear from the Ngatimamoe, to whom he was related on the mother’s side; and further, he knew that his presence amongst them would be welcomed, because he was willing to employ the armed force that accompanied him against the remnant of Waitahi who continued to maintain their independence. Passing down the coast, Tu te kawa took up his residence at Okohana (Church Bush), near Kaiapoi, where eels were plentiful. He employed the few Waitahi whom he spared from destruction to work the eel fishery there for him. Hearing after a time that the eels of Waihora (Lake Ellesmere) were of a better quality, he removed to the shores of that lake, and built a pa at Waikakahi (Wascoe’s), while his son Te Rangi tamau built another at Taumutu. Surrounded by his allies, and at such a distance from his enemies, Tu te kawa felt quite secure. But after the lapse of many years, and when he had grown old and feeble, his followers grew alarmed for his safety, owing to the rapid advance southwards of the Ngai Tahu. They urged the old chief to escape while the opportunity of doing so remained, but all their entreaties were in vain; his only reply was, “What will then become of the basket of flat-fish spread open here?” (in allusion to the lake).

They soon had ample evidence that their fears were well grounded, for the war canoe Te Maka whiu, manned by the choicest warriors of Ngai Tahu, and commanded by the experienced leader Moki, was rapidly approaching his retreat, with the avowed intention of avenging Tuahuriri wives. When the expedition arrived at Koukourarata, a Council of war was held, to decide whether to approach Waikakahi by sea or by land. Some advised an immediate advance on the place overland. This was opposed by Moki, who said he had been warned that Tu te kawa was sitting like a wood pigeon on a bough, facing his foes, and that if they approached him from the direction he faced, he would take flight before they could catch him. After much discussion, it was decided to go by sea. The warriors accordingly re-embarked, and pulled southwards. As they approached Okain’s Bay, Moki observed the groves of karaka trees growing near the shore, and wishing to become the possessor of them, he whispered the following directions in his attendant slave’s ear:—“When I order the canoe to be beached, take care to be the first to reach the shore, and at once cry out aloud, ‘My land, O Karaka!’” The slave prepared to carry out his master’s instructions, and, as the canoe neared shallow water, he jumped overboard, and tried to wade ashore in advance of anyone else. But he was forestalled by Mahi ao tea, one of the crew, who, suspecting Moki’s design, sprang from the bows of the canoe on to the beach, shouting aloud, “My pa, Karaka! my bay, Kawatea!” Encouraged by the success of the attempt to secure an estate for himself, this young man, who was only a chief of secondary rank, resolved to proceed overland to the destination of Te Maka whiu. Accompanied by a few followers, he made his way from Okain’s to Gough’s Bay. In the forests he encountered Te aitanga a Hine mate roa, a wild race (thought to be enchanted ), whom he overcame and destroyed; and between Poutakaro and Otu tahu ao he fell in with Te ti a Tau whete ku, enchanted , that moved about and embraced each other like human beings. He also came across Te papa tu a Mauheke, an enchanted tree. After a very adventurous march, Mahi ao tea rejoined the expedition at Karuru (Gough’s Bay), where he found the canoe already drawn up on the land, and preparations being made for the advance on Parakakariki, He learnt that after his departure from Okain’s the expedition had moved on to Otutahuao (Hickory), where they encamped. There an incident occurred which had caused considerable amusemeut. One of the leading chiefs had presented a basket of dried barracouta for distribution among the crew. Those whose place was nearest the stern got the first helping, and by the time the basket reached those who occupied the bows, only a few fine fragments remained. These were handed to a conceited chief named Whakuku, a sort of captain of the forecastle, who, on seeing what had fallen to his share, said to his companions, “Hold tight, hold tight to the fish dust!” (meaning that when his men fell in with Ngatimamoe, they should take care to secure for themselves something better than the leavings of the persons of higher rank). He dubbed the cave where they took their meal “The cave of fish dust eating,” to commemorate his having been fed with the dust of Hikatutu’s fish basket.

While the plan of attack was under discussion, Moki, the commander-in-chief, suddenly called out to Turangipo, a noted veteran, famed for deeds of valour performed on many a battle-field in the North Island. Turangipo asked what Moki wanted. “You may eat,” he replied, “the head of your Lady Paramount.” Turangipo remained silent for some time, pondering over what was meant by this strange speech. He felt convinced that Moki was employing some spell to paralyse his energies, and rob him of any chance of gaining distinction in the coming encounter with Ngatimamoe. He conjectured that Moki, annoyed at the failure of his attempt to secure for himself the karaka groves at Okain’s Bay, was now bent on making sure of better success at Parakakariki, and that, in order to gain his end, he was endeavoring to cast a spell over the man most likely to defeat his purpose. Turangipo was, however, equal to the occasion, and, having exhausted every means he could think of to break the spell and neutralise its ill effects, he resolved to try its potency on Moki himself. “Moki,” he cried. “What?” replied he. “You may eat the head of your Lady Paramount.” Moki made no reply, and, from the course of subsequent events, it became evident that he neglected to employ any precautions to neutralise the spell. While these two chiefs were exchanging these questionable civilities, the bulk of the warriors were wondering what their object could be in bandying such shocking expressions, for such allusions to the sacred head of a person of rank were regarded as blasphemous. Their speculations were interrupted by Moki suddenly calling out, “Who is for us?” (meaning who will act as scout). Whakuku instantly replied, “I am; I will act as scout.” “How will you proceed?” “I will get above the pa, and, if you hear my voice sounding from high up the hill, then you will know that the pa is guarded; if my voice sounds low down, the pa is not guarded,” Whakuku then proceeded at once to reconnoitre. He was followed by the main body, who, as they approached the cliffs to the north of Fisherman’s Bay, saw several canoes anchored off the coast opposite the mouth of Long Bay. Moki, wishing to know whether the presence of his force on the coast had been observed by Ngatimamoe, fastened his white whalebone weapon to his foot, and dangled it over the brink of the cliff; but the fishers failed to take any notice of it, and Moki accordingly concluded that they were unconscious of the approach of enemies, and resolved to continue his march without waiting to conceal his movements under the cover of darkness. He proceeded till he reached the woods on the south side of Long Bay. There the final disposition of the force for the meditated attack on the pa was completed; and, having found a suitable place of concealment, the men waited impatiently for the promised signals of their scout. Whakuku did not keep them long in suspense, for he soon succeeded in reaching a position overlooking the pa, where he at once commenced to imitate the cry of a wood-hen, ko-ee, ko-ee, ko-ee. The women of the pa listened, and said one to another, “Hark! what bird is that? Surely it is a female weka that is crying in the wood above us.” He then climbed to a point still higher above the pa, where he commenced to cry tee-wake, tee-wake, tee-wake, The women said again, “Hark! Surely that is the cry of a male weka.” He then descended, and concealed himself in a shallow cave close to the pa. His companions, on hearing his signals, interpreted them to mean that although there were many women in the pa, they were not altogether unprotected. So the order was passed along the line to delay the assault till dawn. The warriors with difficulty restrained their impatience, and as soon as the first rosy tints appeared in the eastern sky, they rushed out from their place of concealment, and took the pa by storm. Moki, who wished to secure the coveted distinction awarded to the warrior who killed the first foeman in battle, took care to occupy the foremost place. As he rushed forward, he encountered what he imagined, in the dim light, to be two of the enemy. He struck a furious blow with his taiaha, first at one and then at the other, shouting out at the same time, “By my hand has fallen the first foeman.” But, to his extreme mortification, he discovered that, instead of men, he had only aimed mortal blows at two upright blocks of stone that came in his way, and which were ever afterwards known as “Moki’s pair.” His failure on this occasion was attributed to his having omitted to remove the spell which he provoked Turangipo to cast upon him. That warrior having discovered the mistake Moki had made, rushed past him, and, having entered the pa, secured two women, Te maeke and Ta whera, as his prisoners. Te ao tu tahi, the principal chief of the pa, was killed by Mahi ao tea. His son Uruhanga made an attempt to escape by a path along the cliffs, but, being observed, was pursued. His superior knowledge of the dangerous footway might have enabled him to get off safely, but for Whakuku, who, concealed in a cave above him, was intently watching his approach; and, the moment he came within reach, Whakuku plunged his spear into his shoulder, and hurled him down the cliff in the direction of his pursuer, calling out at the same time, “Your man.” “No,” replied the other, “yours.” “No,” said Whakuku, “you may have him, but do not conceal my name.” After the fall of Parakakariki, Moki returned to Koukourarata, carrying his prisoners with him. Having drawn up his canoe, and placed a guard over the prisoners, he advanced by a forced march over the hills to Waikakahi.

Waikakahi (Wascoe’s).

The shadow of Moki’s form across his threshold was the first intimation Tu te kawa had of the arrival of the Ngai Tahu. The old chief, infirm and helpless, was found coiled up in his mats in a corner of his house, and Tuahuriri’s sons, mindful of their father’s last words, “If you ever meet that old man, spare him,” were prompted at the last moment to shield their kinsman, but the avenger of blood thrust his spear between them, and plunged it into the old man’s body. It may be necessary to explain here why the Ngai Tahu chiefs hesitated at the last moment to carry out the avowed purpose of the expedition. Tuahuriri’s injunction, and their desire to carry it out, were quite consistent with the Maori customs relating to feuds of this nature. Tu te kawa had spared Tuahuriri’s life, and therefore merited like protection at his hands. But Tu te kawa had killed Tuahuriri’s wives, and their death required to be avenged, but not necessarily by the death of the person who killed them; it would be sufficient atonement if one of his nearest blood relations suffered for the crime. This practice will be fully illustrated in subsequent pages containing the account of the Kai Huanga feud.