by Joanna Orwin
But Monsieur Marion, by now well-used to the rivalry amongst local chiefs, was not to be diverted. ‘I’ve often fished in those waters with Tacoury’s blessing. Besides, I’ve not found oysters of such excellence elsewhere, and today I fancy some.’
Numerous coves were scattered along the western sheltered side of the peninsula, each with enticing beaches and rocky headlands, with bushes and trees descending to the water’s edge. But at this time of the morning they were all in shade, so Monsieur Marion ordered his boatmen to row ashore west of the cove below Te Kuri’s village to a beach where the winter sun was already warming the sand.
As soon as it became clear where they intended to land, the Naturals on board the yawl set up a clamour, making it clear they did not wish to go there. Two of them even tried to take control of the tiller and steer the boat away from the chosen beach. They only subsided when the exasperated Monsieur Marion waved his pistol at them.
‘Quelle folie!’ he exclaimed when they reluctantly followed the officers ashore, but refused to join them in preparing the seine net.
‘You don’t think we should be taking some heed, sir?’ André ventured. ‘They clearly don’t want us to fish here.’
‘I’ve no idea what their objection could be, Monsieur Tallec.’ The expedition leader looked around him. ‘I’m quite sure I’ve fished from this very beach before.’ He watched as the Zealanders seated themselves some distance away, then drew their mats up around their faces so only the tops of their heads showed. ‘Such children, to sulk in this manner! I’ve no intention of allowing them to spoil our excursion, gentlemen. We’ll proceed as usual.’
So the officers took off their jackets and helped the boatmen lay out the seine net. Once it was hauled in, they occupied themselves collecting large oysters from the nearby rocks. Within a few hours, they were basking in an unseasonably warm sun, still in their shirtsleeves, slurping succulent oysters straight from the shell while the substantial haul of fish from the net baked on the embers of their fire.
His annoyance with the Zealanders set aside, the contented Monsieur Marion sent André to persuade them to join their repast. But when the ensign made his way along the beach to where they had been seated, the Naturals had disappeared. When he reported their absence to his captain, Monsieur Marion shrugged. ‘No matter—we can safely assume they’ll find their own way back to Marion Island.’
Their meal finished, Jean, as restless as ever, persuaded André to leave the others in their party enjoying a snooze while they went off to hunt a flock of particularly plump ducks within easy reach on a nearby mudflat. It was late in the afternoon when the party of relaxed, sun-sated and well-fed officers reluctantly returned to the Mascarin, where they presented the grateful François with sufficient ingredients for several delicious suppers for the great cabin’s table. By then, even André had all but forgotten the inexplicable behaviour of the Naturals who had accompanied them.
The following morning, busy preparing for their next tour of duty at the masting camp, the two ensigns failed to notice that the ship was visited by few of the Zealanders from the island’s fortified village. Although André did observe that most of the officers’ particular friends were not on board, he put their absence down to the fine weather—Te Kape had not turned up either. Besides, there was a lot going on. Two chiefs from mainland villages arrived at the ship’s side early, wanting Monsieur Marion to accompany them ashore. He went off in his yawl with his lieutenants and his usual small contingent of soldiers—for Monsieur Crozet had insisted he as the expedition leader needed to keep up appearances. ‘You may not feel the need for protection, sir,’ he argued, ‘but you don’t see any of these chiefs without some sort of escort.’
The second-in-command, due with the ensigns at the masting camp, wanted first to check on the garden he was planting on Marion Island. As a result, he was impatient with the young chief’s son from the island whom he had befriended. This lad came aboard as usual and kept hovering around despite the senior officer’s obvious preoccupation. He seemed keen to present the second-in-command with several items in which Monsieur Crozet had earlier expressed an interest. But the senior officer had come to realize that these items—several valuable jade ornaments, some finely carved wooden spears, and a whalebone club—were probably family heirlooms and beyond the boy’s authority to obtain for him. So he was dismayed to find these were the very things he had brought on board. He called André over to help interpret. ‘I’ve not time to try and explain my scruples to him, Monsieur Tallec. See what you can do, if you please.’
Although André was sure the boy understood, he nevertheless seemed determined to present the items to Monsieur Crozet. When André tried to send him away, the boy promptly burst into tears. The ensign relented and took him back to the second-in-command. ‘I’m afraid he’s unmoving in his intentions, sir. I think you’ve no choice but to deal with him.’
‘Mort-diable!’ The senior officer sighed, but turned his attention away from his box of precious seedlings. ‘Fetch me an iron hoe and a couple of decent chisels, Monsieur Tallec—and a red handkerchief or two. I can’t possibly accept such items without proper recompense.’ He stooped to take the weeping boy’s hands in his. ‘Allons, allons, mon pauvre! What’s the cause of such sadness? Where’s your usual smile?’
Despite his best efforts, the boy could not be cajoled back to good humour. When André returned with the trade items, Monsieur Crozet handed them to the young Natural. He refused to take them. Losing patience, the second-in-command turned to the ensign. ‘Ma fois, surely he can see I’m being more than generous?’
‘I don’t think it’s a question of that, sir,’ said André, frowning. ‘He seems highly distressed about something.’
Monsieur Crozet then tried to return the gifts, but the boy put his hands behind his back, shaking his head. He also refused to join the officers for breakfast, something he had previously enjoyed, his appetite for newly baked bread huge for someone so slight in build. Neither the senior officer nor André could think of anything else to try. More than somewhat bewildered, they watched the boy, still snivelling, leave the ship and paddle off in his small canoe.
‘No matter how long we spend with them, Monsieur Tallec, I don’t think we’ll ever understand the savage mentality.’ Monsieur Crozet watched the rapidly dwindling canoe for a moment longer, then shrugged and turned his attention back to his seedlings.
Before they left for the masting camp, André went ashore with him to help plant out the tiny plants. The second-in-command surveyed his previous efforts with considerable satisfaction. Early in their sojourn in the harbour, he had taken over the gardens in the watering cove abandoned by the Zealanders. Now, only a month later, the new green shoots of rice, wheat and maize were already thrusting up from the freshly dug soil, despite it being winter. Rows of cabbages, garlic and onions were thriving, and even the potatoes were beginning to shoot. He now bordered this area of plantings with a row of various fruit trees, marking with red-painted discarded planks from the ships the spots where he planted the kernels.
‘I’ve made it clear to Malou and our savage friends from the fortified village over the hill that these crops are for their benefit,’ Monsieur Crozet said, as he and André finished planting out the latest lot of seedlings—turnips and more cabbages. ‘They’ve promised to look after them.’
‘We can only hope they understand enough to harvest any seed, sir,’ said André.
‘They obviously have gardening skills of their own,’ said Monsieur Crozet. ‘I’m confident they understand the ways of perpetuating such crops. For that reason, I’ve taken many opportunities to scatter seed and fruit-tree kernels in appropriate places on all my excursions ashore.’
By the time they left for the masting camp, both satisfied gardeners had forgotten the perplexing behaviour of Monsieur Crozet’s young friend.
Extract from the Te Kape manuscript, 1841
It came to pass that revenge was sought by the chief’
s daughter Miki who had been spurned by Mariou. In revenge for that violation of her tapu, she expressed a desire for fish. In that way, an ancient saying from Hawaiki was invoked; when a chiefly woman desires a food, that food is the heart of a man. Accordingly, when Mariou and some of his subordinate chiefs rowed ashore to net fish on a tapu beach below Te Kuri’s stronghold, near Manawa-ora, their actions determined the means by which her craving would be satisfied.
Some people of Ngati Pou scolded those strangers and told them not to fish in that place, for the reason of it being tapu to Te Kuri’s people because men from the settlement at Whangamumu had recently drowned and washed up ashore there. Taking no heed of their warning, Mariou and his subordinate chiefs persisted in casting their net in that place. Those strangers then cooked fish caught there in their net, and, they further transgressed by eating those fish in that place where they had been caught.
Because they had failed to prevent all these desecrations of tapu, those Ngati Pou people knew retribution would come both upon Mariou in accordance with that woman’s desire and upon themselves from Te Kuri, whose people had suffered these latest grave offences. Accordingly, those Ngati Pou people were greatly saddened, and, they went away from those strangers and stopped visiting their ships.
Not recognizing the finality of their transgressions, Mariou’s people retaliated by going ashore on Moturua to the garden lands they had seized. There, they set up rahui posts marked with red along the boundaries of those gardens as a warning for those people living on that island to keep staying away.
The last few days having been fine, the track across the mountains had dried out somewhat. With the help of the trolleys, the masting party succeeded in hauling the logs a good distance. In the evening, André and Jean returned to the shore camp after helping erect the tent used as a guard-post. The officers always left a small contingent of soldiers and sailors with the masts overnight to ensure the Zealanders did not steal any of the equipment. They were comfortable enough, with a fire to warm them and the same ingredients for supper as the people at the main camp.
Shortly after ten that evening, just as the officers were about to retire for the night, two of the men left inland with the masts stumbled into the camp. Once they regained their breath, they had a disturbing tale to tell. ‘We were still eating supper when we heard movement near the tent and went to investigate,’ one of them explained. ‘We spotted a couple of savages running off with armfuls of our clothes and gear. One of our soldiers fired his musket at them, but they kept running. Several of us set off in hot pursuit.’
His companion took up the story. ‘We got close enough to fire a second shot. It was enough to make them drop some of what they’d stolen—a whole bag of biscuit and some rope.’
As the thieves had by then disappeared into the forest, and it was too dark to go after them, they returned to their camp. To their dismay, they found other Naturals had taken advantage of the ruckus. ‘The varmints got clean away with an axe, a musket and some greatcoats!’
‘We worked out later that those cunning scoundrels had pulled out some tent pegs at the rear of the tent then sneaked in under the loosened canvas, right behind our backs,’ added the first man, still flushed with exertion and indignation.
‘And that wasn’t the end of it, gentlemen,’ said his companion. ‘No sooner had we secured the tent and set a careful guard, than we heard them at it again—near the masts this time.’
Of all things, the Zealanders made off with the anchor being used to brake the trolleys, but they were in time to prevent them taking anything else. ‘The varmints retreated into the forest once more, then set up their unholy caterwauling. We felt most unsafe, and have come to request reinforcements.’
Monsieur Crozet sent André and a dozen armed men back with them. Everything had quietened down by the time they reached the inland camp, but the people there were relieved to see them. ‘They’ve been threatening to set fire to the masts, sir,’ one of the soldiers explained. ‘We’ll need to set a full guard there as well as here for the tent.’
André spent an uneasy night, lying awake and alert despite the men on guard. Every rustle made him start, thinking the Naturals were back. His thoughts kept returning to the incidents of the previous few days. Now, with this unprecedented thievery at the masting camp, he was beginning to think the presence of armed Zealanders in the bay was indeed ominous. But the night dragged on without further incident. Eventually he dozed, one hand clutching his whale-tooth pendant in the obscure hope it might provide him some protection. At dawn, he sent some armed men to search the surrounds for the anchor, thinking the thieves would surely have abandoned something weighing three hundred pounds. There was no sign of it, and no sign of any Naturals. Discounting his fears as the inevitable distortions of a wakeful night, and embarrassed to have woken still clutching the pendant, he left the extra men on guard and returned to the shore camp to report to Monsieur Crozet.
‘Mort-diable!’ the second-in-command exclaimed. ‘These savages have become over-familiar with us. Our policy of ignoring their petty thieving is now making them bold. We need to make it clear we won’t tolerate such behaviour.’
The second lieutenant from the Mascarin, who had just arrived with the morning’s supplies, volunteered to lead a search party to the neighbouring village. ‘I’ve no doubt we’ll find our possessions there. They have to be involved—they’re always snooping around our camps, using the excuse they’re bringing us food.’
‘Those people have been moved out, sir,’ said André. He saw no point in protesting the slur on Zealanders who had been nothing but generous towards them. He told him about the eviction he and Jean had observed.
‘All the more reason to suspect the present occupants then.’ The second lieutenant was quite happy to adjust his argument. ‘We should endeavour to capture one of these miscreants. A show of force is needed here, gentlemen.’
Amidst the growing hubbub of indignation amongst those present, Monsieur Crozet decided the time had come to disregard the expedition leader’s instructions about not mistreating any of the Naturals. He sent the second lieutenant off with a party, each of them armed to the teeth and eager to seek redress.
André watched them go with some trepidation. ‘Monsieur Marion’s not going to like this,’ he said quietly to Jean.
‘D’accord,’ Jean replied. ‘But at the same time, I agree with Monsieur Crozet that we can’t afford to do nothing.’
The second lieutenant returned victorious later that morning. Finding the village abandoned and no sign of their belongings, he had vented his frustration by setting one of the huts alight. ‘The fire soon spread,’ he said with considerable satisfaction. ‘The blaze made a fine spectacle. Those savages will think twice before taking off with our property again.’
While returning to the camp, they had come across a small group of unsuspecting Zealanders—not people they recognized. They promptly seized two of them. ‘Mission accomplished, gentlemen,’ said the second lieutenant proudly, pushing his captives forward. One of them was a chief, resplendent in dogskin cloak with feathers in his hair, the other a young man of no account.
‘That chief, sir—I recognize him!’ A man from the inland camp who had come down with André that morning to report their failure to retrieve the stolen goods now spoke up. He pointed at the chief. ‘That’s him—that’s the scoundrel who made off with the anchor!’
‘Quelle folie!’ André tried to rebut this assertion. He appealed to Monsieur Crozet. ‘This man’s merely seeking glory for himself, sir—it was far too dark to identify anyone.’
But the second-in-command refused to listen. Brushing the ensign aside, he ordered the chief to be bound to a stake in front of the huts where he would be in full view of any Naturals who came near. Although the chief protested vigorously that he had nothing to do with any thefts, Monsieur Crozet was in no mood to change his mind. He was determined to make an example of one of these Naturals—and in his opinion, the more pr
estigious the captive, the better the point would be made.
He then turned to André and said, ‘You, Monsieur Tallec, seeing you’re so concerned, can make up an armed escort and take this other savage back up to the masting camp. I’ve noticed you’ve gained useful knowledge of their language. It’s now up to you to make it clear to him that we’ll release them both only once our possessions are returned. In the meantime, I’ll send word to Monsieur Marion, telling him what’s happened here.’
There was nothing the dismayed ensign could do but comply.
Extract from the Te Kape manuscript, 1841
As was customary, Ngati Pou sought to recompense Te Kuri for those desecrations of tapu at Manawa-ora. Accordingly, in the darkness of night those people with stealth and boldness took valuable items away from the strangers left to guard the kauri trees—cloaks they took, axes and guns, and a sack of the pumice-like food. Then, while those strangers were rushing about shouting, they took away the heavy iron anchor holding the kauri trees. All those things would be given to Te Kuri and his people in compensation.
To the dismay of Ngati Pou, Mariou’s people at Manawa-ora ignored that such plunder was just punishment for the offences against tapu committed by those from the ships. Instead, they sent their men to seize the western chief who had settled near their houses, a principal chief of the name Rauhi, [Ed: genealogy of this chief omitted here] and with him a young man. Those two they bound with ropes, intending to keep them prisoner until the plundered items were returned. Those incomers had nothing to do with what had taken place, nor were they relatives of the raiders against whom retaliation might be justified.
Not satisfied with those actions, neither acknowledging their denigration of the highly tapu person of that chief nor that they had brought the plunder upon themselves, Mariou’s people at Manawa-ora then set fire to those nearby houses and destroyed them.
