Plume of the Arawas
III. The Island in the Lake
III. The Island in the Lake
Lift up the paddles
To the sky above,
To the sky far-drawn-out!
There before us lies our ocean-path,
The path of strife and tumult,
The pathway of this chief, this priest,
The danger-pathway of this crew.
D uring the night, the war-canoe Te Arawa departed from the island in the river, crept over the shallows that marked the Lake's outlet, and at daybreak was almost half-way across Taupo.
Ha! The sight that met the eyes of all on board!
Mountains on every side except the east! Mountains of considerable height, some of them extinct volcanoes, with heavy forest clothing their lower slopes! But dominating all, the towering bulk of Tongariro in the south-west!
“O Taupo-of-the-Lofty-Mountains!” said Marama softly, and the warriors at once took up and repeated her words as a chant of praise.
Then the great voice of Te Puku the Fat boomed forth:
“Ko hea, ko hea,
Ko hea tera maunga
E tu mat ra ra?
What, what,
What is yonder mountain
Standing in the sky?”
Back from the warriors came the roar of the chant:
“Ko Tongariro!
Nukunuku mai,
Nekéneké mai!
Nukunuku mai,
Nekéneké mai!
’Tis Tongariro!
Draw near to us,
Come close to us!
Draw near to us,
Come close to us!”
“Let it be to us a sacred mountain, a place of the spirit!” cried Tuwharétoa. “In days to come it will be a tribal glory, it will add mana to our tribal name. Greetings, humble greetings to Tongariro!”
“Greetings, humble greetings to Tongariro, to Sacred Tongariro!” chanted the warriors, as they held up their dripping paddles for a moment in willing tribute.
Presently, however, their leader ordered them to cease paddling. He swung the canoe round until its prow was pointing towards the sun, Then he held up a carved casket, and cried:
“Within is gravel brought to Aotea-roa by Ngatoro in the original Te Arawa Canoe, gravel that came from Far-Hawaiki. We give it now into the care of Taupo—for ever.”
He handed the casket to Marama, then recited an incantation such as none of the warriors had ever heard before; and, at a sign from him, Marama slowly committed the contents of the casket to the blue-green depths below. For every Maori there it was a ceremony that took them back in the spirit to the ancient Homeland, and bound the ties afresh.
A gesture from Tuwharétoa, a dipping of paddles again, and the war-canoe swung back upon her course. An order, and a big mat-sail was raised aloft upon a pole. The warriors rested, while the waka-taua sped forward towards Motutaiko under the urge of the morning breeze.
But after a time, Tuwharétoa ordered the sail to be lowered, and then, feeling sure that the island ahead would be defended, he gave his final directions to his men. Ha! Soon the spray was flying from paddles and prow.
Nearer and nearer the vessel drew to Motutaiko, and greater and greater became the excitement of the warriors. To them, the island had first seemed to creep along, then it had seemed to glide along, and now it seemed to be rushing along to meet them.
Tuwharétoa raised the trumpet Te Umu-kohu-kohu to his lips and sounded upon it a long blast.
The prow of a large canoe at once showed up from behind some rocks, and promptly the Arawas sent a challenging chant across the waters:
“Te Arawa the War-Canoe,
And Tuwharétoa the Man!
Ha! Keen for the conflict are we.
Ha! Hot for the slaying of men.
Te Arawa the War-Canoe,
And Tuwharétoa the Man!”
An answering shout came from the waiting Ngatihotus, and then canoe after canoe darted out from behind the western point of the island and sped forward to the attack.
Round the eastern end swept several other canoes, while from behind a projecting point on the mainland burst quite a fleet of small canoes.
The canoes from behind the island were large canoes, each one manned by some forty or fifty warriors, and the formation they adopted clearly indicated an intention to surround the waka-taua and to crush it and its crew by sheer weight of numbers.
The Arawas merely tightened their war-belts and placed their weapons ready for use. Then they waited, paddles poised, for their leader's command.
The Ngatihotu canoes came on with a converging rush, and the boom of war-chants grew louder and louder. The violent gestures of the chiefs in each canoe could be plainly seen. And still Tuwharétoa waited. Then:
“Hoea! Hoea! Paddle! Paddle!”
A hundred paddles took the water as one. Once! Twice! Ha! The living power of those paddles! The waka-taua seemed to leap forward under the mighty impulse. Then Tuwharétoa pressed his weight against the broad-bladed steering-paddle, the paddles along one side gave their aid, and round the vessel swung in a perfect curve. The next moment she was in full flight.
An exultant roar came from Ngatihotu, and the roar increased in volume as the leading canoes began to gain upon the enemy ahead. The crews of the faster vessels, urged on by their chiefs, made desperate efforts to lessen the gap between them and their foe. Soon the canoes of Ngatihotu were spread out in several long lines, and the gaps in those lines grew wider and wider.
On board the Te Arawa the panic of the warriors seemed to increase as the foremost pursuers drew nearer and nearer. Heads turned round displayed eyes wide open with terror. The despair of the fat time-giver as he plunged about on the central platform was evident to all. And the tall leader in the stern seemed quite unable to control his men.
To the inexperienced Ngatihotus victory seemed certain, and near at hand. But, alas for Ngatihotu! they did not hear the subdued chant of Te Puku the Fat:
“He tia, he tia, he tia!
A tena, tena! E ko tena, tena!
Dip lightly, dip lightly, dip lightly!
That's it, that's it! Now again, again!”
as he restrained his paddlers. Nor did they hear the Fat One chant:
“He ranga, he ranga, he ranga!
A tena, tena! E ko tena, tena!
Now a long stroke, a long stroke, a long stroke!
That's it, that's it! Now again, again!”
whenever the pursuers seemed to be gaining too rapidly.
Nor did they hear the jests of the apparently terror-stricken Arawas whenever Te Puku narrowly escaped overbalancing and crashing down upon the warriors on the nearby thwarts.
So, not hearing these things, and inexperienced in the wiles of a warlike foe, the Ngatihotus pressed forward to their fate.
At last, with four large canoes close upon him, but with the others and all the smaller craft spread out at varying distances for a long way back, Tuwharétoa decided to strike.
He ordered the maidens to remain within their cabin. He gave a defiant blast upon the war-trumpet. He bent upon the steering-paddle, the warriors along one side lifted up their paddles, and the giant canoe responded at once. Then:
“Hoea/ Hoea!”
In plunged the paddles. Ha! The forward urge! The change in the crew! And the dismay of the Ngatihotus as the Te Arawa bore down upon them with a foaming rush!
The nearest canoes had been bunched together, racing side by side. Now they sought to scatter, but the two inside canoes collided, and straight at them, before they could separate, came the waka-taua.
“A-a-a! Tiaia! Drive in!” cried Tuwharétoa.
Ha! The strength behind those paddles!
“ Hukire! Hukéré! Quicker! Quicker!” roared Te Puku the Fat. “ Hapa—hapainga! Lift her, lift her along!”
The crew gave a mighty shout, and with straining muscles and thrusting paddles they lifted her along. Then the great carved prow rose in the air as if seeking to climb over the obstacles ahead. The terrific momentum carried the whole forepart of the Te Arawa right across the middle of the two Ngatihotu canoes, then down she came with a ponderous shock.
The shock and the weight were too much for the canoes underneath. Prows and sterns rose in the air as the canoes broke in half. And through the gap, with not a man shifting his hands from his paddle, the yelling Arawas drove their vessel.
With commendable bravery, the Ngatihotus in the other two canoes tried to attack the Te Arawa from both sides at once, seeking to hold her until the rest of the fleet could arrive to their aid.
With a sudden swerve and a splendid burst of speed the waka-taua slipped across just in front of one of the canoes and, as she did so, Tuwharétoa deftly threw the loop of a mooring-rope over the passing figurehead, and shouted a warning to his crew. When the jerk came, the waka-taua staggered, but the tough rope stood the strain. The Ngatihotu canoe overturned its figure-head was wrenched off, and on went the Te Arawa.
The warriors in the fourth canoe, seeing no hope of escape, promptly overturned their own vessel and started swimming towards the other canoes now approaching.
The other canoes, to the number of twenty and more, drew together for safety. Then around them the waka-taua began to move at great speed and in sweeping circles. Red-painted, carved, paddles flashing, spray flying, plumes of feathers waving at prow and stern, she presented a magnificent but terrible sight to the unfortunate Ngatihotus.
And her crew! More than one hundred youthful, muscular, virile Arawas — fire, determination, and vigour displayed in their every action! And at the stern—the savage-looking leader with painted body and fiercely-tattooed face! Arawas!
One of the larger canoes suddenly broke away from the rest and sought to escape, but with the greatest of ease the Te Arawa caught up with it, and played with it, and headed it back towards the other canoes. Then, as if to show the watching Ngatihotus how truly helpless they were, the waka-taua swept alongside the offending canoe and Rata leaped aboard it with but twenty men.
The contest was sharp but brief. A number of the resisting Ngatihotus were quickly slain. To the disgust of their chief, the others jumped overboard, leaving him alone in the stern.
Seeing death approaching, the chief decided to bring down the pride of one Arawa leader ere he died. Two derisive, upward leaps he gave upon his platform and then, before Rata could reach him, he suddenly hurled his heavy stone club, not at Rata, but straight at Te Puku the Fat. The club caught the unprepared Te Puku fairly in the middle, and, with a yell of anguish, he fell backwards into the waka-taua, carrying with him several warriors and two thwarts.
The warriors underneath made their presence felt at once, and Te Puku yelled again, and even more vigorously than before. Ha! His fat legs waved frantically in the air as he sought in vain to escape the savage prods from below.
Niwareka looked out from the cabin and then shrieked with laughter at the sight. Soon almost everyone on board was laughing with her. And with their laughing, the blood-lust of the Maori died away; died away so suddenly, and so completely, that not a man objected when Te Puku, raised to his feet again, promptly seized the chance to add to the mana of his name.
“Ye are saved, O Ngatihotus!” he gasped. “Ye are saved, but forget not in what manner ye are saved! Ye are saved by the mighty ‘puku’ of Te Puku the Fat. Enough!”
………..
In the days that followed, the Arawas slowly but surely tightened their grip upon Taupo, using every expedient known to them in an effort to make the Ngatihotus believe themselves to be a beaten people.
Every day at sunrise the war-trumpet Te Umu-kohu-kohu would be heard, its rich voice carrying across the waters and far up into the southern and western hills. Every evening at sunset the voice of the trumpet would be heard again, followed by the roar of a war-dance, and then by the boom of a chant.
And ever the notes of the trumpet, and the rhythm of the war-dance, and the boom of the chant, would be the same. To listening Ngatihotu it was plain that the Arawas were trying to bewitch them, and before long the strain of waiting for those sounds became almost more than mind and spirit could bear.
Every morning also, with scarcely a break, the waka-taua would set out from one or other of the coves on Motutaiko, and would cruise along the shores of the mainland near by. And then, throughout the day, the Ngatihotus would have to listen to the voice of Te Puku announcing with nerve-shattering regularity that Tuwharétoa, the Ariki of Te Arawa, was but preparing the way for a great invasion by his people.
Ha! Truly the Arawas knew how to weaken the spirit of an unwarlike tribe. Daily the dread of the man Tuwharétoa grew and grew, and his very name became a name of terror throughout the land. Yes! The “small cloud” from the north was already darkening the life of a numerous people in the south. The prophecy made on Hikurangi was being fulfilled.
Nor was the material side of things overlooked. Day after day the Arawas landed where they chose. Day after day they hunted along the shores and in about the lagoons and streams, destroying with fire such canoes as they found. As an extra challenge, they even set fire to deserted villages along the Lake fringe, and carried away the food-stores that lay to their hands. Yet, to their disgust, not once during those days were they attacked by Ngatihotu.
And daily, caring nothing for the feelings or for the future of so poor-spirited a foe, caring only about the destiny of Te Arawa, Tuwharétoa picked out desirable cultivation-places and suitable pa-sites for his people.
Particularly did the south-western corner of Taupo attract his attention. A fascinating region! There he found hot springs and hot bathing-pools at the water's edge close to a beautiful waterfall called the Waterfall-of-the-Moa, with steaming cliffs farther back to one side.
Farther round, along the southern shore, he found a delightfully clear stream and several long and narrow inlets, in one of which the water was quite warm. And the stream, and the inlets, and the high banks of reeds adjoining, were swarming with water-fowl. A rich country for food-supplies, thought the Arawas as they saw the duck rise in clouds!
Farther on still was the widely-expanding delta of a great river, which alone would support many people, many Arawas, in days to come.
To the observant warriors in the waka-taua it was clear that their leader was “treading” the land, the new land, the about-to-be-conquered land, and was already dividing it up among his people after the manner of ancestors long dead. No futile curiosity, no mere desire to satisfy a passing whim, lay behind those daily visits to the shores of Taupo. A racial instinct was but finding expression once more.
By the time another moon had come, there was hardly a portion of the Lake frontage that was not familiar to the warriors of the waka-taua. South, west, north, and east, the whole shore-line had been carefully examined, yet still did the Lake and the country around hold the interest and grip the imagination of all. For who could grow weary of Taupo?
Often and often, however, was Tuwharétoa glad that he had with him the maidens Marama and Niwareka, and also so helpful a man as Te Puku the Fat. The day-long cruises upon the Lake, the succession of hot summer-days marked by almost continuous paddlework, the inevitable strain of the constant association with each other of high-spirited and physically-fit warriors in the crowded canoe, all these might easily have bred discontent or friction had it not been for the presence of the maidens and the activities of the versatile Te Puku.
Always cheerful, always charming, friendly yet aloof in demeanour, the Puhi maiden Marama was an inspiration to all on board. And many a time, aided by Niwareka, she would entertain the resting paddlers with the elaborate string games known to the Maori, or would please the men with melodious love-songs, or would rouse their enthusiasm by wonderfully varied exhibitions with the twirling “pois.”
Scarcely less effectual were the efforts of Te Puku. With unexpected facility he composed canoe-chants that rejoiced the hearts of the warriors. With powerful and harmonious voices they chanted the new chants as they paddled, and somehow the paddle-work seemed lighter, grew easier.
Yet was the life of the Fat One not quite as smoothflowing as he could have wished it to be. The wayward Niwareka was the trouble. She was young, and pretty, and vivacious. The warriors were young and strong. Moreover, they lost no chance to win her interest. But confidently Te Puku pitted against their youth and strength the quality of his mind.
Once, while the waka-taua was moving slowly past the base of the Karangahapé Cliffs on the western side of Taupo, Niwareka went so far as to sit beside a handsome youth as he paddled, thereby showing him a special mark of favour.
Te Puku bore it for a moment, and then he left his platform and sat down in front of the youth, taking no notice of Niwareka but whispering something in the youth's ear. The youth looked up at the cliff rising sheer from the water's edge to a stupendous height. Te Puku went back to his platform. The youth, in his inexperience, failed to guard the maiden from the subtle blow. He foolishly repeated the whisper to the youth behind him. Soon from one end of the vessel to the other the delighted warriors were looking up at the heights and gleefully repeating the whispered warning:
“Women are as a cliff for men to flee over. Aué! The drop!”
Almost weeping with humiliation, the angry Niwareka returned to her place on the cabin and turned round in time to see the pleased smile on Te Puku's face. It was too much for her.
“ Hu-u! Thou of the round face!” she cried at him.
Te Puku's smile grew broader. He appealed to the warriors for sympathy:
“Ha! Heard ye that? She, she the hasty one, she the cross one, she of the uplifted nose, she does not wait to pluck me. She roasts her bird with its feathers on. I am the bird. Ah me!” Then laughingly he broke into a chant:
“Paddle on! Drive the paddles in!
Now leaps my fluttering heart, as flash
Of anger gleams from out the eyes—
Of Niwareka. Paddle on!”
………..
With the ending of the exploration of the Lake and its shores, the Arawas rested, and during that rest, swimming contests in the deep water near Motutaiko provided a welcome change for all.
The charm of their island home! Flowering trees and shrubs filled every nook and cranny—here the red fire of the rata blossoms, there the crimson glory of the pohutukawa, farther away the loveliness of the yellow kowhai's petals. Palms and tree-ferns everywhere—a feast of beauty!
Happy days on Motutaiko! And the evenings? Evenings as delightful even as those on the island in the Waikato!
Gorgeous sunsets! Changing colours of the twilight! The afterglow! Then, when up rose the moon, huge, round, yellow—bright tides of light, and soft peals of laughter, and the piping of flutes, and the chanting!
For twice seven days the Arawas rested from all canoe-work, but even while so resting they indulged in pastimes that kept them fit.
As a variation from haka-dancing and swimming contests, they engaged in races from the water's edge to the highest point on the island, with the two young leaders giving their men longer and longer starts until finally each race would end in a neck-to-neck struggle for victory at the very top.
On the fifteenth day, however, Tuwharétoa went to a secluded spot on the southern side, and stayed there throughout the morning. At midday he returned, and the warriors and the maidens were startled and perplexed when they saw him, for his whole appearance was so changed. His black head-gear had been discarded, his facial tattoo removed, his body cleansed of the red ochre that had been his war-paint. Even Rata was surprised, and he looked at his friend with questioning eyes. Tuwharétoa drew him aside, and said:
“O Rata! The time has come for another meeting with the Haughty One. To her I am still Manaia. Yes, I have thought of that which is now in thy mind. She will know that I come from the waka-taua. No, she will not dream that I am the Ariki Tuwharétoa.
It is my wish that she should not know. Not yet! Not yet!”
………..
That afternoon Tuwharétoa forced himself to deal with one of the most difficult tasks of his whole life. How he shrank from that task; yes, shrank from it even up till the moment that his sister stood by his side eagerly waiting for him to speak! At last:
“O Marama! That which I have to say to thee will grieve thee, but it must be said. Now then! On Hikurangi thou didst hear that I had chosen a maiden whom I would seek to win as my mate, but her name and her tribe were not disclosed to thee, neither are they known to thee yet. The news will grieve thee. Yes, it will grieve thee, it will distress thee.”
She drew his arms about her, and she hastened to reassure him, and she begged him to tell her the news quickly, that she might rejoice with him in his love.
By no means reassured, Tuwharétoa proceeded:
“O little one! I thirst. I thirst greatly. With the mind I thirst for Taupo. With the heart I thirst for a maiden. But if I must make a choice I shall find it hard, for with the spirit I thirst for both. Now hear me! The maiden that I speak of is the Puhi maiden Rerémoa, daughter of the High Chief Nukutea of Ngatihotu. Ah!”
He felt the soft body of Marama grow rigid in his arms, and it warned him of the intensity of the feeling she would show.
“A Ngatihotu? O my brother! A weakling Ngatihotu! Aué! It cannot be! And the choice? Surely it is not hard for thee. Thou art an Arawa, the Ariki of all Te Arawa, and for thee there can be only one choice. Taupo! Taupo!”
He tried to tell her that he might win both, but she would not listen. All the tribal spirit for which Te Arawa's women are famed blazed up in the young chieftainess as she turned fiercely upon her brother and beat him upon the breast with clenched hands, and cried:
“No! No! She will drag thee down. She will interfere with thy plans. She will play with thee, and thou wilt be weak in her hands. Thou wilt lose thy hold upon Taupo. And I, I will hate this Rerémoa. Aué! I hate her already with a bitter hate. She will drag thee down. Aué! My ariki! my brother! A Ngatihotu! A weakling Ngatihotu! Aué! Aué!”
………..
That night, the Mutuwhenua or moonless night of the moon in the ninth month of the Maori year, the waka-taua set out from Motutaiko—and with it went the ariki.