by Joanna Orwin
‘Ma fois!’ muttered Jean. ‘Will you look at the state of Lieutenant de Vaudricourt!’
In the light of the torch, André took in the sub-lieutenant’s disarray. He had lost both his hat and his wig, his hair mussed and full of twigs. His stockings were torn and his breeches covered in mud. His face was scratched and bloody. His servant was equally dishevelled.
‘Que diable?’ Monsieur Le Corre lumbered towards his sword. ‘We must hasten and find the fiends who attacked you.’
‘Non, non, sir—it was nothing like that!’ The sub-lieutenant put out his hand to stop him. ‘I was foolish enough to get lost.’ He went on: ‘Late last evening I had the good fortune to stumble across this man’s village. Even though we hadn’t met these particular people before, they’ve shown me nothing but kindness, gentlemen. Insisted on feeding us, then brought us here by canoe after we’d rested.’
Apparently, he had been on an excursion with Monsieur Marion to the east of Te Kuri’s village. Although they were some five or six leagues from the masting camp, and in country unknown to them, he had felt confident he could find the camp by following the local trails, despite having no guide.
Monsieur Crozet sighed heavily. ‘Foolishness indeed, sir. What possessed you, venturing off alone in such a way? Once again, it seems we are in debt to these savages.’ He turned to André. ‘Take this man to the store hut with you and make sure he’s well rewarded.’
Next morning, when Monsieur Marion learned of these various experiences, he promptly decided there was no longer any point in the soldiers accompanying the officers’ excursions, whether by boat or on foot. He dressed down the discomfited Sub-Lieutenant de Vaudricourt. ‘From now on, sir, you and your men will restrict yourselves to guard duties against pilfering at the shore camps. It’s more than clear we’re perfectly safe amongst these people, no matter where we stray.’
The exasperated Monsieur Crozet had to agree with this decision. ‘Moreover, sir, despite it being of considerable chagrin to me, these…savages…have proved themselves far more reliable than our own soldiers in every way, whether it be as hunters, protectors or companions.’
‘D’accord,’ said Monsieur Marion, making no attempt to hide his satisfaction. ‘My point exactly, sir.’
Extract from the Te Kape manuscript, 1841
Mindful of those strangers’ inexplicable powers and capricious behaviour, our chiefs and tohunga insisted we continue to offer them friendship and hospitality, so they would not turn against us. We continued to eat together and to sleep on board the principal chief’s ship, and they continued to sleep in our houses ashore. Many of the ordinary people, including our women and children, persisted in the friendship that grew out of curiosity and pleasure in the attentions they received from those strangers. Mariou himself continued to shower everyone he met with small objects of little value, trinkets enjoyed by children. Our chiefs and tohunga sent us to accompany those strangers on all their incursions ashore in the hope of averting any further harm they might unknowingly inflict.
Despite such efforts, the mana of the chiefs and accordingly the wellbeing of all our people became undermined by those strangers’ actions. They continued not to reciprocate with equivalent gifts our provision of food supplies and items of value. Our vital winter supplies were fast becoming depleted, for the strangers’ appetite showed no sign of diminishing, and, they made few attempts to find food for themselves, having little skill in hunting despite their mysterious guns. Moreover, they continued to send their people to cut firewood wherever they pleased, with no thought to ask permission or to respect any restrictions. Accordingly, great was our dismay when those people heedlessly took wood from a sacred pohutukawa tree that was under such tapu that we ourselves took care not to approach anywhere near.
Equally troubling was the continued failure of Mariou’s people to acknowledge those who held the real authority in Tokerau. Their indiscriminant and impulsive favouring of various subordinate groups, who gained status as a result, was beginning to stir up strife. Stronger currents began to flow in the harbour, and the tides were now shifting. It was a time of growing turmoil amongst the peoples of Tokerau.
Chapter 9
4–9 June 1772
Port Marion 35° 15 ′ S
Savages approaching, gentlemen!’ One of the soldiers on guard at the masting camp came running to the officers’ hut to report. ‘A chief we’ve not seen before, with a large party of armed men.’
‘Any women or children with them?’ Jean drained his morning coffee without haste.
‘Oui, oui, sir.’ The soldier seemed puzzled by the question. ‘Shouldn’t we be taking up arms ourselves in preparation?’ He fidgeted impatiently, waiting for orders. ‘They’re not more than ten minutes away!’
‘Take up arms? Non, pardieu!’ Jean got to his feet and stretched. ‘Even you should be aware that a war party does not bring children with it.’ He waved the man away.
André said, ‘We should go outside, wait in front of our hut to meet them—a chief would expect that.’
Jean agreed, although not without a smile at his cousin’s desire to fit in with Zealander protocol.
Telling the guard to keep a discreet distance, the two ensigns waited as a chief in full regalia approached the camp. With his tattooed face, the white feathers of chiefdom in his ochre-powdered and oiled hair, and a splendid full-length white dogskin cloak around his shoulders, the imposing chief was accompanied by a tall, attractive woman, equally adorned. Close behind this pair were several other well-dressed men and women, and a host of children of various ages. As the soldier had reported, the chief’s group was followed by a large party of armed men, amongst them many heavily laden women. A few young girls trailed behind the main party, but it was not clear whether they belonged to it or were curious onlookers.
‘This front lot must be the chief’s family,’ said André. ‘I wonder where they’re from? The baggage they’re bringing surely means they’ve come some distance.’
‘Au contraire—it might mean they intend staying!’ Jean pointed out.
The chief and his family approached the two ensigns without hesitation. Their followers halted on the outskirts of the camp, dropping their bundles and squatting on the ground.
‘Wherever they’re from, it seems they were expecting to find us here,’ said Jean. ‘Our fame must be spreading far and wide.’
‘Hardly surprising since we’ve been in Port Marion a full month,’ André pointed out. He took a step towards the approaching Zealanders, then called out the greeting used by the Naturals. ‘Aré maye, aré maye!’
The women accompanying the chief began calling back, words not so familiar to the ensign but ones he recognized as a response to his own greeting. So he called again.
‘Quite the savage you’re becoming, cousin,’ Jean said, half-teasing, half-admiring, as the chief now came forward to press noses with them and embrace them vigorously, followed in turn by all his family.
Ignoring his cousin, André tried the phrase he thought asked where visitors had come from. He must have got it right, because the chief pointed inland and indicated they had been travelling for several days. He made it clear they had indeed come to see the Frenchmen and their ships, then were carrying on to spend some time at Te Kuri’s village. The chief went on to ask all sorts of questions far beyond André’s rudimentary grasp of the language. Before long, with his inquiries receiving only puzzled shrugs and well-meaning smiles, the chief rose to his feet and started exploring the camp. He investigated each hut with evident curiosity and showed great interest in all he saw.
‘Better give him some gifts before he makes off with whatever he wants,’ said Jean. ‘He obviously covets our tools.’ He told the soldiers to distribute a few trinkets amongst the chief’s women, and brought out some offcuts of hoop iron and a handful of nails for the chief himself, with which the man seemed well satisfied.
Although heavy rain had set in, the party of Zealanders donned the shaggy,
full-length waterproof cloaks they used in wet weather and went on their way, seemingly unperturbed by travelling in such conditions.
Extract from the Te Kape manuscript, 1841
Chiefs began to gather from far and wide to discuss whether action should be taken against the inflammatory presence of those strangers—namu namu whose delayed sting was now being felt, just as predicted by Te Kuri. All those with interests in Tokerau gathered at Te Kuri’s stronghold to discuss those matters, putting aside their rivalry.
You question how such co-operation could be possible? Consider then this whakatauki or proverb from ancient times that reinforces the close kinship between the peoples of the east coast (Taumarere) and those of the west coast (Hokianga):
Ka mimiti te puna i Taumarere, ka toto te puna i Hokianga.
When the spring at Taumarere is used up, that at Hokianga is full.
The ancestor Rahiri gave Taumarere to his elder son Uenuku, and Hokianga to his younger son Kaharau, their close relationship as halfbrothers being like that of the different tides of the two coasts. That proverb directed those brothers and their descendants to support each other in times of need. That co-operative alliance has held through many generations to the present day. That is the meaning of that proverb. Because of those ancient and continuing kinship ties, Te Kuri was able to call on the chiefs from Hokianga, the chiefs from Te Rawhiti and the chiefs from Taiamai. Despite their continuing rivalry, those chiefs began gathering in Tokerau in response to his call.
The downpour continued without pause for another day. The carpenter took advantage of the enforced respite from log-hauling to design and build two robust trolleys with runners like those of a sledge in place of wheels, which he thought might make the work easier. ‘These trolleys should enable us to move both logs together, gentlemen,’ he explained. ‘That alone would halve the work required.’
Impatient to try the devices, the masting party did not wait for the rain to stop before returning to where they had left the logs in a sea of mud. Much to their delight, the carpenter’s ingenuity proved successful, particularly when it came to lowering the logs down the first mountain slope. Roped securely to each other and to the trolleys, the logs could now be moved as one unit. Although just as many men were needed, from then on the work of hauling the masts towards the shore camp proceeded much faster. The carpenter predicted it would not be long before they were in sight of the sea.
As the Castries’ officers were due to take over duties at the masting camp that evening, Jean suggested that he and his cousin spend the afternoon hunting along the shoreline. They were not far from the camp when André called a halt. ‘Prenez garde—more armed men! And no women or children with them this time.’
They crouched behind a screen of bracken fern to watch as a canoe containing about forty Zealanders was dragged up on the beach just beyond them. They stayed hidden as these men advanced purposefully on a small hamlet of eight or ten houses tucked into the head of the cove. When the occupants of the houses emerged to face the armed party, they seemed cowed. Certainly they offered no resistance as the armed men rounded them up roughly and herded them away from their homes.
‘Que diable?’ Jean muttered. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Those people are the ones who’ve been bringing us fish and game,’ said André, recognizing several of the inhabitants. ‘These rogues are evicting them!’ He half rose to his feet, hand going to his musket.
‘Don’t be a fool!’ hissed Jean, pulling him back down. ‘What do you think the two of us could possibly do? They’re in no mood for negotiation.’
André subsided. His cousin was right. There was nothing they could do but watch in silence as the invaders drove the villagers away, allowing them to take little with them. Once they had left, the armed men sent some of their companions back to the canoe to collect their own belongings. They then moved into the houses, clearly intending to stay.
When all was quiet once more, Jean said, ‘Let’s get out of here before they spot us.’
Giving the hamlet a wide berth, the ensigns rejoined the coast beyond the cove then continued to walk along the shore. But they had lost their enthusiasm for hunting, and it was not long before they decided to turn back. When they were still about a league away from the camp, they came across a superbly carved war canoe, pulled up high on the beach under some of the gnarled and twisted coastal trees. No one was around, and from the litter of leaves and twigs that had accumulated in the canoe, they at first thought it had been abandoned.
André paced out its length. ‘It’s all of seventy feet, and carved from one tree trunk. Look at this workmanship—it must’ve taken months, if not years, to make with stone axes and adzes. I can’t believe anyone would abandon a canoe of this sort.’
‘D’accord,’ said Jean. ‘Look, they’ve stashed the paddles behind that tree. It must belong to some local chief after all.’
Keeping a sharp eye out for the armed intruders observed earlier, they made their way back to the masting camp. Each preoccupied with uneasy thoughts, they did not talk much. Their route took them past the grass huts abandoned by their inhabitants when the masting party had taken up residence nearby. As they drew near, they realized the people they had seen evicted were moving in, even though the huts were now in ruins, their main timbers taken for use at the camp. These people stood and watched the two ensigns walk past, not even calling a greeting.
‘I don’t like this,’ said André. ‘Trouble of some sort’s brewing.’
‘We’d better alert the officers from the Castries,’ Jean agreed. ‘They’d be wise to mount a more vigilant guard tonight.’
But when they told Lieutenant Le Dez and his companions of their concerns, the officers from the Castries seemed not at all perturbed by the presence of armed Naturals in the vicinity. Immaculately garbed as always, the urbane lieutenant was preoccupied with preparations for his next hunting excursion. André waited patiently for his attention.
When the senior officer at last replied, he was dismissive. ‘Fi, fi, gentlemen, we’ve been aware ever since we arrived in Port Marion that these people are in a constant state of warfare. Why, only this morning yet another chief tried to persuade Monsieur du Clesmeur to assist them in a raid on Tacoury. If they’re building up to another skirmish, it’s no concern of ours.’
Monsieur Le Corre was more interested in their mention of the canoe they had found. ‘That could well serve us as a tender,’ he mused. ‘We’re often stranded here once the longboat returns to the ship, as Monsieur du Clesmeur usually wants the use of the yawl. With a canoe, we’d be able to move about more.’
Jean urged caution. ‘We don’t think it’s been abandoned, gentlemen. If you just take such a valuable item, you’d be giving the savages every excuse to steal equivalent items from us.’
André was regretting they had ever mentioned the canoe, but as the most junior ensign of the two ships he was in no position to tell his senior officers what to do. Then, thinking the first lieutenant from the Castries—an intelligent and perceptive man despite his apparent indolence—might be more receptive to their reservations and exert some influence on his ship’s second-in-command, he said to him quietly, ‘Could I suggest you at least try to find its owners, Monsieur Le Dez?’
Overhearing, Jean backed him up. ‘Trading for it would be the best option—it must belong to someone around here.’
But the very next morning, when the two ensigns arrived back with the longboat bringing daily supplies from the Mascarin for the masting camp, they found the canoe pulled up on the beach. On being questioned, the officers at the camp were adamant the canoe had been abandoned. They saw no problems with commandeering it for their own use.
Monsieur Le Corre laughed off Jean’s objections. ‘Why so much fuss? The savages themselves seem unconcerned. Some of them even watched us launch the thing without protest.’
André thought that might have been simply because they were not the owners, but there was no point protesting
further. The deed was done and they would have to bear any consequences.
Extract from the Te Kape manuscript, 1841
Some people incoming from the west sought recompense against a small hamlet near where te iwi o Mariou had set up their houses in Manawaora. Whatever the cause, some offence satisfied by taking over the hamlet, it gave those incomers an advantageous position in Te Rawhiti, close to Mariou’s people and their tempting possessions.
That in itself would have been no more than an annoyance to Te Kuri, but a war canoe belonging to more powerful relatives of those evicted was then seized by Mariou’s people at Manawa-ora. For that reason, they were seen to be aligning themselves with those incoming from the west, a direct challenge to Te Kuri’s authority here in Tokerau. Accordingly, several rival chiefs were encouraged to ask Mariou’s people on the ships to assist them in mounting an attack on Te Kuri, an alliance that would further weaken his influence. Although those chiefs were refused, that action was understood as evidence of Mariou’s interference in the politics of Tokerau. Accordingly, Te Kuri would be obliged to put on a show of strength both to revenge the insult to his mana and to correct the imbalance caused by such interference.
The next day dawned fine, and being off duty, André and Jean joined Monsieur Marion on a fishing expedition. Although their companions on this occasion came from the large fortified village on Marion Island, the expedition leader had set his heart on going to Tacoury’s Cove—the name the Frenchmen had given the whole of the bay bounded by the long peninsula running from the mainland towards their anchorage. André had the distinct impression that neither the two chiefs they knew from the island—Maru and Te Kotahi—had much love for Te Kuri, despite their apparent amity in the mainland chief’s presence. Both had at times been amongst the chiefs who had tried to gain French support to attack Te Kuri. So he was not surprised when their island companions seemed unenthusiastic about fishing in the mainland chief’s territory.
