LITMIR.BIZ

      FOOTNOTES:

       Table of Contents

      [45] Typha angustifolia.

      [46] Some remained undistributed, tapu for ever.

      [47] In the case of chiefs of great fame, the remains were twice or thrice exposed to the veneration of the tribe before the final sepulture, which might then be delayed longer than is stated above.

      CHAPTER VI

      GRIM-VISAGED WAR

      Animated, for all one knows, by mere lust of strife, the men of Waikato on the west soon after their arrival in New Zealand marched across the North Island to Maketu on the Bay of Plenty, and burned the Arawa canoe.

      From this outrage arose a war, the end of which was not until generations later, and from which, as a forest conflagration from a spark, arose other wars between tribe and tribe, until from end to end of Te Ika A Maui men were in arms against one another.

      Peace there was, but more often war; and by the time Captain Cook visited the Islands the village was deserted and the pa predominant. Later, peace again prevailed; then wars again; and, as the quarrel with the Pakeha developed, strife filled the land till matters were adjusted at the end of the long struggle between Maori and colonist.

      The conditions under which the Maori lived furnished them with plenty of excuses to appeal to arms. There was always that burning question of animal food, and no more flagrant outrage could be perpetrated by one tribe than to poach upon the hunting or fishing-grounds of another.

      A man might insult one of another tribe by rude word or inconsiderate deed, and the aggrieved party might wipe out the injury by means of utu—payment or revenge—which was more or less the lex talionis of the Romans. But the individual usually carried his wrongs to his chief, when the matter became a tribal affair and, unless compensation were quickly forthcoming, war resulted between the disputants. Thus, what originated in a petty difference between two hot-headed fellows, might, and often did, result in a quarrel which brought hundreds—perhaps thousands—into the field.

      The Maori were a military race in which every able-bodied man became a warrior because he possessed an arm strong enough to strike. To lack courage to deliver the blow was to expose himself to the pointing finger of scorn. The man who shirked his military duties could not escape exposure. His face betrayed him. If that were bare of designs, he had small chance to establish his claim to be a man of valour, and smaller still to live in honour among his fellows.

      Few were courageous enough to be cowards in a race so uniformly brave. Few, however much they might prefer peace, ventured to skulk at home when the war-gong clattered and the huge trumpet brayed its summons. The man who remained deaf to the call to arms incurred the contempt of his fellow-men, and knew that the meanest slave would not change places with him. A solitary life, an unlamented death, his lonely passage to Reinga "unwept, unhonoured, and unsung"—such was the lot of the Maori who dared to be a coward.

      The Maori fought with frightful ferocity when once the battle was joined, but went to work leisurely enough over the preliminaries, occupying the time with councils, dances, orations and embassies from one set of contestants to the other.

      The council was presided over by the principal chief, or by the paramount chief when a tribe's interests were involved. If age or physical infirmity prevented him from leading in the day of battle, his place would be filled by one of the "fighting chiefs," men of little use in the Maori "War Office," but terrible in the field.

      The council over, the tohunga was sought and requested to ascertain whether success would attend the arms of the inquirers. As this was a very important function, the rules of Maori etiquette were rigidly observed in dress and demeanour.

      The high chief was splendidly arrayed. His fine, Roman face, scarred with records of his daring, was set and stern; his dark hair, combed and oiled, supported a coronet of huia plumes, and from the lobe of each ear dangled a gleaming tooth of the tiger-shark. Around his loins he wore the customary katika, or kilt, while a vest of closely woven flax covered as with mail the upper part of his body.

A collar of sharks' teeth, or of the teeth of slain foes, encircled the massive column of his neck, and from the former was suspended his household heitiki,[48] which lay like a locket upon his broad chest. In his hand he held a long spear, elaborately carved, like the rest of his wooden weapons, and from his right wrist dangled his favourite mere, or war-club, of purest greenstone. Upon his shoulders, fastened so as to leave the right arm free, he wore the kaitaka, the valuable robe of flax already referred to.

      But no matter how sumptuously garbed before the fight began, every particle of clothing was usually discarded at the moment of onset, and the Maori rushed into the fray naked and unashamed.

      The war-dance usually followed a favourable augury, and was heralded by a terrific commotion, which drew every inhabitant of the village to the marae, in the midst of which a cleared space was occupied by a hundred or more lusty warriors.

Stripped to the skin, their brown, muscular bodies gleaming, their scarred faces aglow with excitement, the warriors stand in two long lines awaiting the signal. Suddenly the long-drawn wail of a tetere[49] sounds, and a hush falls upon the crowd. A moment, and with a wild yell a magnificent savage rushes from the rear of the column to the front, brandishing his spear and hideously contorting his face. For a short minute he leaps and capers at the head of the column; then, abruptly coming to rest, sings in a rich bass the first words of the war-song.

      Another short pause and the warriors behind him leap from the ground with a pealing shout, flourish their weapons and set off at the double round the court, while from their open throats comes the roaring chorus of the chant.

      Twice they circle the marae; then, forming once more in column, with, or without, the soloist for fugleman, they dance in perfect time, but with furious energy, gesticulating, rolling their eyes and protruding their tongues, while the ground trembles under the heavy tread of so many strong men.

      At last, with a shout so horrible and menacing that the hearts of the watchers beat faster as they hear it, the dance comes to an end as abruptly as it began, and on all sides are heard prophecies of success, since no one among the dancers has fallen under the exhausting strain.

      For some time after the opposing forces had come within striking distance of one another, jeers and insults were freely exchanged. The chiefs on either side would harangue

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