by Joanna Orwin
On learning of those further provocations, it was understood by Te Kuri and the chiefs already gathered from Hokianga, from Taiamai, and from Te Rawhiti that they no longer had any choice but to take direct action against te iwi o Mariou.
Chapter 10
9–11 June 1772
Port Marion 35° 15 ′ S
Later that morning, André reluctantly returned to the shore camp with his captive. He suspected the Zealander had indeed been involved in the thefts in some way—he certainly seemed aware that the anchor was missing. But the ensign was not at all convinced he had succeeded in explaining the consequences. They could only wait and see whether the gear was returned.
A still-belligerent Monsieur Crozet ordered that the young man remain bound. ‘Put him in the guardhouse and keep an eye on him.’
The second-in-command considered his tactics were having the desired effect. On the hilltops all around the shore camp, groups of armed Zealanders were gathering. Every now and then they shouted defiance and waved their spears, but they kept their distance. ‘They can see we mean business,’ he said. ‘It’s high time they learnt that we’re not to be trifled with.’
Not long afterwards, Jean arrived back from the Mascarin with a replacement anchor for the masting operation, more soldiers, and instructions from Monsieur Marion that the captives were to be released immediately. The second-in-command was not inclined to obey. ‘Tomorrow morning will be soon enough,’ he said firmly.
In no position to argue with his superior officer, Jean merely said, ‘Monsieur Marion suggests we keep a closer watch on the savages, sir. He considers that if our guards had been more alert, such thefts wouldn’t have been possible.’
Monsieur Crozet snorted. ‘Monsieur Marion’s not here to see what we’re up against. In my opinion, he’s too ready to blame our own people in his determination to be lenient towards these savages, no matter what they do.’
Later, Jean told André in private that the expedition leader had been furious about the captives. ‘I’ve never seen him so angry,’ he said. ‘He railed and swore and called Monsieur Crozet all sorts of names, not caring who heard. He kept repeating that his instructions couldn’t have been clearer. He said everyone in command knew they applied to them—regardless of whether they were at the shore camp, on Marion Island or on board the ships.’
‘D’accord—no one could argue about that,’ André said. ‘Ever since we considered having that man flogged on the Mascarin and the other savages reacted so badly, he’s stuck to his principle that if we do them no harm, they won’t harm us.’
‘I suspect Monsieur Crozet wouldn’t consider that he is doing them any harm,’ said Jean. ‘He’s only bound these two, after all. It’s not as though he’s had them hurt in any way.’
When he found the opportunity, André went to squat beside the bound chief, hoping to reassure him that he would not be harmed, that he would be released once the stolen goods were returned. At first, the man would not look at him. Every muscle tensed, his face contorted with rage, he kept denying any knowledge of the thefts. As the ensign leaned towards him, trying to pick up any words he understood, the whale-tooth pendant swung free from his shirt. He was about to stuff it back inside the neck opening when he realized the chief had noticed it. His eyes flashing, the man nodded his head vigorously, then broke into another spate of words. Amongst them, André distinctly heard the names Te Kuri and Pikiorei. Puzzled that the chief had apparently recognized the pendant, he repeated the names slowly. The chief nodded again, then turned his head away, refusing to say anything more.
The ensign went to find Monsieur Crozet to let him know that the chief seemed to be saying Te Kuri and his ally were responsible for the thefts. He expected this news would result in their captives being released immediately.
The second-in-command listened impatiently, then shrugged. ‘It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if Tacoury and his henchman Piquioré were responsible,’ he said. ‘I’ve never trusted that man. But hasn’t it occurred to you, Monsieur Tallec, that our captive may indeed be laying blame elsewhere so we’ll release him? I said tomorrow, and tomorrow it will be.’
Extract from the Te Kape manuscript, 1841
That western chief, Rauhi, taken as hostage for the things plundered, was left bound like a slave in full view of any passers-by. Although that chief insisted he had not been involved in the plunder, blaming Te Kuri and Pikiorei, Mariou’s subordinate chiefs took no notice. Although that western chief was a skilled practitioner of maketu and uttered powerful incantations against those men, they were not afraid. Accordingly, not only was that chief’s mana diminished by such humiliation, but he feared his atua had indeed withdrawn protection from him as a result of the violation of his ancestral tapu. His only recourse was to take immediate revenge.
Tension grew as caution was urged by the principal chiefs. Te iwi o Mariou were a powerful people, and any action taken would need to be well-planned. Those chiefs withdrew to discuss what should be done. At the same time, our people stayed away from that place to avoid being contaminated by the evil let loose there.
The energy of war rose like smoke from a fire, and, fierce quarrels broke out amongst young, impetuous warriors wishing to attack the strangers without delay. But only the inexperienced net the first of the eel-run; those who wait catch the largest eels, which run last, so the chiefs held back. Those principal chiefs were persuaded by Te Kuri that Mariou’s people at Manawa-ora would be on the alert, expecting retaliation for their evil actions. Accordingly, it would be better to negotiate a truce so those strangers would instead think their actions had been accepted as justified revenge and be lulled into complacency.
At the same time, it was decided by those principal chiefs that te iwi o Mariou should be subjected to displays of the might of the war parties gathering in Tokerau, thereby instilling some humility in them.
Despite André’s attempt to persuade him otherwise, Jean was determined to go hunting that afternoon. ‘Everything’s quietened down,’ he pointed out. ‘Surely it’s best we carry on as usual? If we over-react and confine ourselves to the surrounds of the camp, the savages will think they have the upper hand.’
Monsieur Crozet agreed, saying only that he should not venture beyond the territory already familiar to him. ‘Unfortunately, I can’t release any of the soldiers to accompany you, Monsieur Roux. We need to maintain vigilance at both our camps in case the savages try any more of their tricks.’
As André had other duties, he could not keep his cousin company. Jean decided to go alone, laughing off the young ensign’s protests. When evening came and Jean had not returned, André berated himself for not taking a firmer stance. Filled with foreboding, he waited anxiously as darkness fell and there was still no sign of Jean.
Despite his qualms, the senior ensign eventually arrived back in the camp, embarrassed at the anxiety he had caused and weary from walking a long distance. Jean confessed that, intent on tracking some quail, he had lost his way in the forest. ‘It was overcast, so I couldn’t use the sun to guide me,’ he said. ‘After a few hours, purely by chance, I ended up on a mountain in sight of the sea. It was only the distance of two musket shots away. I knew that once I got down to the shore, I’d be able to find my way back.’
But while he was clambering down a steep gorge, he heard the unmistakable sound of hand-to-hand combat. Like all the officers, he was used to the sight of warriors practising their fighting skills in games that involved considerable exertion and dexterity. ‘These two were armed with those carved spears. They were twirling and thrusting them as they parried each other’s blows, showing all the grace and agility of any expert in fencing.’ He explained that he withdrew into the fern where he could watch in comfort without disturbing their concentration. Then, after some moments, they suddenly threw aside their spears and drew their war clubs from their belts. ‘Before I had time to realize what was happening, they fell upon each other in earnest.’
Without pausing
for thought, the ensign ran towards them, shouting. But he was too late. At that very moment, one of the men had his head split open by his opponent. He was killed instantly. ‘It was only then the victor became aware of my presence,’ said Jean. ‘He was so surprised, he immediately ran off.’
Left to examine the victim, Jean was impressed to find the blow had been so severe the man’s skull was clove almost in two, the brains scattered at some distance. ‘He’d been killed as effectively as though he’d been struck with a cutlass.’ He added, his voice full of admiration: ‘It’s clear, gentlemen, that these savages fight such duels with great courage.’
Realizing he would soon run out of daylight, the senior ensign hastened on his way. Once he reached the sea, he walked along the shore, not at all sure whether he was heading in the right direction. Much to his relief, he had not gone far when he came across a group of Zealanders he recognized. ‘I tried to question them about the duel I’d witnessed, but I couldn’t make them understand,’ he said ruefully. ‘So I asked them to put me on the right path back.’
Indicating that he was a long way from the shore camp, half a dozen of the men showed themselves willing to guide him. Just before dark, they stopped in a small village where they were given fish to eat, then carried on. Noticing that he was beginning to stumble with weariness, the Zealanders took it in turn to carry him on their backs. For some reason they would not come with him right into the camp, but stopped where they were certain he could find his own way. ‘I tried to persuade them to continue with me so I could fetch gifts for them,’ Jean said, still perplexed. ‘I’d nothing suitable on me to reward them for their kindness, but they were adamant in their refusal to go any further.’
After he gave them a handkerchief—all he had—the Naturals left him and vanished into the darkness. ‘It’s the first time I’ve found them so unwilling to enter our camps.’
‘Perhaps they were wary of being taken prisoner.’ André risked Monsieur Crozet’s wrath.
But the second-in command was well-satisfied with this outcome. ‘Monsieur Roux’s experience proves I’m right to act in the way I have, gentlemen. We’ve won back some respect. The word’s got around that we won’t tolerate them interfering with our possessions. At the same time—despite Monsieur Marion’s assertions otherwise—it’s clear no harm’s being done by holding captives, or those savages wouldn’t still be willing to help our officers in such a manner.’
At dawn next morning, Monsieur Crozet had gifts brought for the bound chief, then ordered him released. But the chief ignored the gifts. He ran off immediately the ropes were untied, first slipping off his cloak so he could run unimpeded. Once he was out of reach, he turned and shouted threats at them. As soon as he joined the Zealanders gathered on the nearby hill, they all took off. Even though Monsieur Crozet had the cloak left neatly folded on the edge of the camp, no one returned for it.
Much to his chagrin, the younger man bound in the hut had managed to escape during the night. The soldiers on guard duty insisted they had not heard a thing. ‘The savages are as wily as foxes, sir,’ they said. ‘He somehow got free of his ropes, then pushed his way out through the rear brush wall.’
‘Mort-diable, such slackness merely confirms Monsieur Marion’s poor opinion of your efforts,’ Monsieur Crozet retorted grumpily. But there was nothing he could do.
While they waited in vain for the local villagers to arrive as usual with fish to trade, the first lieutenant from the Castries came ashore to take over command. Lieutenant Le Dez decided to take the masting party inland to work on the hauling as usual. No sooner had they begun to cross the swamp than a large crowd of armed Zealanders began gathering on the surrounding hilltops. Then André spotted others silently filtering through a saddle onto the swampy plain behind them. They were soon surrounded by armed and menacing warriors. There were hundreds of them, maybe close to a thousand—the most he had ever seen in one place.
Lieutenant Le Dez said quietly, ‘We’re about to be attacked, gentlemen. Take up defensive stations.’
Nervously, the masting party formed a square, with the soldiers on the outside, their muskets at the ready. They waited as the warriors moved steadily but cautiously closer, stopping just beyond musket range. There they stayed, motionless, the various groups lined up in the orderly ranks André had observed early in their stay in the port, when they had witnessed a skirmish between rival groups. Several chiefs stood in the front ranks, as seemed customary. They were in no apparent hurry to take any further action. All they did was ostentatiously count the men in the masting party—even though the Frenchmen were clearly outnumbered.
‘An impasse, gentlemen,’ said the imperturbable Lieutenant Le Dez, examining his pistol. ‘This may take some time—we can assume our work’s been interrupted for the day.’
As an hour or more dragged by and the Zealanders made no further move, the initially tense masting party grew restless. André could feel the cold from the sodden, swampy ground creeping up his legs. Worse, the gnats had found them. Everyone was shifting from foot to foot, trying to restore feeling in their toes, at the same time surreptitiously slapping at the annoying insects. The ensign could see the warriors were not similarly bothered. They continued to stand unmoving, watching the Frenchmen. Not once had they even leapt into action with one of their hideous challenge performances. The situation was descending into farce. He said quietly to his cousin, ‘Nothing’s happening—nor seems likely to.’
‘Mort-diable—all they have to do is wait for gnats and cold to do the job for them,’ said Jean, swiping an insect from the side of his nose.
Before much longer, the stand-off got the better of the senior ensign. He offered to approach the Zealanders. ‘I recognize some of them, sir. And two of my guides from yesterday are amongst them. If I go alone and apparently unarmed, I might be able to find out what they want—we can’t just stand here forever.’
Lieutenant Le Dez was unconvinced. ‘We all recognize some of them. I’m not sure the risk is justified.’
As his cousin was insistent, André suggested, ‘He could cut a leafy branch and take it with him as a sign of peace, sir. I’ve seen them use branches in that way.’
The lieutenant gave in reluctantly. ‘But be clear that you do this on your own initiative, Monsieur Roux, not on my orders.’
So, with his cutlass concealed beneath his greatcoat and waving a leafy branch, Jean walked steadily towards the group of warriors nearest them. André watched in some trepidation. What if they sent a challenger out to meet him, expecting him to fight? Now that it was too late, he was wondering whether he should have sent his pendant with his cousin. The captive chief’s reaction to it had indicated that it had some sort of status amongst the local people. But even as he was thinking this, four chiefs came out from the ranks to meet the senior ensign. They each embraced him. André heaved a sigh of relief. So far, so good.
Jean then stepped back slightly. He presented first his branch then his naked cutlass, pointing at each in turn. After returning to their men for some lengthy discussion, two of the chiefs eventually came back and took the branch from Jean, waving the cutlass aside. They then embraced the ensign again, and walked with him towards the waiting masting party. Leaving their weapons on the ground, the rest of the Zealanders followed them, still at a distance.
‘It seems you young men were right.’ Lieutenant Le Dez nodded a gracious acknowledgement to André. ‘Put your weapons down, gentlemen, and stand by for the usual greeting ordeal.’
Only the two chiefs subjected them to the pressing of noses and sucking of flesh, constantly saying a phrase André thought meant peace. As the rest of the watching Zealanders then dispersed, the officers took the chiefs and their companions back to the shore camp where they presented them with gifts. Jean was at last able to reward his guides, and the chiefs agreed to bring fish to the camp the following day.
‘Sir, perhaps we should give them the cloak left behind by the chief we captured?’ André sugge
sted. ‘It’s valuable, and it would serve us well to have it returned to its owner.’
With Lieutenant Le Dez’s agreement, he went to fetch the cloak. After many questions about the fate of its owner, the chiefs sent two young men off with it—but not until the oldest of them had conducted a curious ceremony over the cloak that involved much muttering and the sprinkling of excrement.
Lieutenant Le Dez considered this was all very satisfactory.
‘But we still don’t know what the confrontation was all about, sir,’ Jean pointed out. ‘André, see if you can find out.’
After a lot of miming and maximum use of the few phrases at his command, the young ensign came back to the waiting Lieutenant Le Dez. Keeping his face blank to hide his secret glee, he said, ‘It seems they want their canoe back, sir.’
The first lieutenant flushed. After a moment of silence, he said, ‘Fort bien, Monsieur Tallec. I’ll leave you to arrange that.’ Nodding abruptly at the chiefs, he stalked off to the privacy of the officers’ hut.
Monsieur Le Corre, not in the slightest bit fazed, muttered, ‘Quelle folie! A lot of fuss about nothing, if you ask me.’
Leaving the officers from the Castries in charge of the shore camp, André and Jean returned to their ship. On the way back across the bay, they spotted Monsieur Marion’s yawl in Tacoury’s Cove and decided to divert the longboat there. Unlike Messieurs Le Dez and Le Corre, the two ensigns were most uneasy about the escalating presence of armed warriors in the area. ‘Monsieur Marion needs to be told what’s been happening,’ Jean decided.
They found the expedition leader on the bank of a nearby river, surrounded as usual by children from Te Kuri’s village. He was watching a group of them taking it in turns on a rope fixed to a stout pole like a maypole. As they ran around the pole, the rope wrapped itself higher and higher, taking them with it until they let go near the top to sail out over the river and plunge into a deep waterhole, apparently not bothered by the coldness of the water. Admiring their skill, Monsieur Marion continued watching while the two ensigns recounted the events at the masting camp and its vicinity during the past few days.
