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Book One
I. The Origin from Hawaiki-Far-Away

But thou, when asked to give our history,
Make answer:—“I am young, and but a child,
And have forgotten what my parents taught.”
Yet we have heard it said from days of old
That Tainui, Arawa, Mataatua,
With Kurahaupo and Tokomaru,
Were the Canoes in which our ancestors
Sail'd o'er the mighty ocean which we see.

White's Maori History.
(Peou's Lament for Te Tahuri.)

“Turn once again your faces, O children of the Maori, to the shadowy land from which we came, to the homes of our ancestors far away, to the Great-Hawaiki, to the Little-Hawaiki, to the Long - Hawaiki, to the Hawaiki-of-Great-Distance, to the Hono-i-Wairua or Gathering-Place-of-Souls, to the land where man was formed from the Earth by Great-Tané-of-the-Sky, and had Life first breathed into him! Turn!”

In the Wharé-wananga or School of Learning at Hikurangi Pa in the land of Aotea-roa (New Zealand), the chosen sons of chiefs and tohungas of the Arawa tribe had just commenced their annual course of studies, and from now on, throughout the autumn and the winter of the year, the tohungas and their pupils would spend every evening from sunset until midnight in the sacred building, teaching and being taught, reciting from and committing to retentive memory the valued traditions of tribe and race.

With the lengthy initial ceremonies over, the fundamental page 4 points of tribal history were now being recited for the special instruction of the younger scholars present in the Wharé-wananga for the first time.

The sonorous voice of Taréha the chief tohunga or high priest went on intoning the lesson:

“The eye of the spirit is sufficient. Therefore, O Arawas, gaze back along the pathway of the setting sun and look into the dim twilight of the past. Now then! The seed of our coming was from beloved Hawaiki (India), that remote country lying beyond even the distant region called Little-Hawaiki-of-the-Burning-Mountains (Java), where the islands stand in a row from east to west as if gathered up in the sea.”

He paused for a space, and then went on again:

“Alas! Alas! The countless wars of our people, and the untimely deaths of our leaders in succeeding generations, have almost burnt up our store of ancient knowledge as with fire.

“Dim now are the tribal memories of greatness in that large land, that fat land, that original Hawaiki of our race, where the arikis of the Maori held sway over many strange tribes. But this we know. The time came when we dispersed to the islands of Te Moana-nui-a-Kiwa (the Pacific) in consequence of terrible wars, and at last reached this our final home in beautiful and fertile Aotea-roa.”

The voice ceased. The chief tohunga was allowing the effect of his words to sink into the minds of his pupils. They for their part, squatting there in a double row upon the flax mats spread over the earth-floor of the Wharé-wananga, had been listening quietly and intently and respectfully, each youthful mind realising to the full the importance and the sacredness of the fragments of knowledge being handed down.

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Between twenty and thirty high-born Arawa youths were there, some of them just entered upon adolescence and others quite old enough and strong enough to take the war-trail at the call of their tribe.

Some belonged to Hikurangi Pa, but most of the pupils had come from other fortified villages of the tribe, especially from the pas situated around Rotorua and other lakes to the west. They had been drawn to Hikurangi by the fame of its School of Learning and by the presence there of the paramount chief and ariki Mawaké-Taupo.

In the centre-way in front of the pupils and close to one of the strong pillars that supported the ridgepole above, was a shallow stone-lined fire-pit, and from the pit there came a red glow that lit up the faces of the scholars and cast weird shadows upon the reed-lined wall at the back.

The light fell also upon the base of the central pillar and disclosed the carved statue of Ngatoro-i-rangi, the celebrated high priest and navigator of the Arawa canoe.

There he was, staring forth with scornful visage, his strangely life-like face wonderfully scrolled with the lines of a tattoo in exact imitation of the “moko” of living man.

Sitting opposite the pupils were the chief tohunga and the other tohungas who would aid him in the various stages of the recital. They were elderly men of fierce countenance, and all highly tattooed. They were engaged now in a silent effort to assess the mental value of the younger scholars; and these youths were growing more and more uneasy as they experienced the probing of powerful minds reaching out from behind eyes that seemed to smoulder and glitter.

Close to the door and sitting aloof from the rest of page 6 the scholars were three youths well endowed with the “rae roa” or broad forehead so associated with chiefs of highest rank. In them also was an indefinable something that set them apart from the other scholars of the Wharé-wananga.

Moreover, they were older in years and far more advanced in their studies, and they were joining in with the others merely for this opening night of the annual session. They would listen respectfully to the recital of tribal history, but on future nights they would seek further insight into the higher mysteries, and in particular would they renew their efforts to grasp the hidden powers of the human mind, that in the end they might pass the highest test the Maori mind could offer.

The one second from the door was a tall young chief named Rata, from the isle of Motutawa in Lake Rotokakahi to the west. Head chief of that branch of the Arawa tribe known as the Ngati-te-Whetu, the Tribe-of-the-Star, he was known to all as the chosen friend of Mawaké-Taupo's son.

The third from the doorway end was Kahu, a youth of some importance in the pa, for he was a grandson of the chief tohunga. Handsome he was, as handsome as Rata in a way, yet with a haughty and somewhat disdainful air that made his countenance decidedly less pleasing.

Despite their youth, both Rata and Kahu had been more than once upon the war-path, and they bore the warrior's sign, chin and brow being neatly ornamented with the spiral lines of a partial tattoo.

As to the youth holding the place of honour next to the door, without doubt he presented the most striking appearance of all.

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He was an urukéhu, for there could be no mistaking that high-bridged nose, and the slightly-reddish tinge of that fair hair, and the light colour of a brown skin that showed no markings of tattoo.

Yes! He was an urukéhu Arawa, of the ancient line of fair-haired chiefs from Hawaiki, and his ancestry would go back into the very mists of time. None other could this be than Manaia, only son of the ariki Mawaké-Taupo, and acknowledged to be the most splendid-looking youth in all the territories of the tribe.

A sign from Taréha, and the younger scholars heaved sighs of relief as one of the assistant tohungas took up the tale:

“Sufficient for this night is the word of very ancient days! Give heed as we recite now the later stages of our wanderings!

“The navigators of the Maori in their great canoes had boldly swept the waters of the Sea of Kiwa (the Pacific), continually breaking through the hanging sky and opening up the solitudes. Then came the migrations, pressing on towards the sunrise, occupying the new lands as they were discovered, and with pride and affection naming them after the beloved homeland of the race.

“So the sea-tracks are marked by those ancient names Hawaiki and Tawhiti, and in the last Tawhiti our people dwelt for untold generations.

“Yet year after year, the people of Tawhiti saw the flight of the koekoea (the long-tailed cuckoo) coming ever from the south-west and wintering in the warm islands to the north, then returning again to the southwest in the early spring. Now the koekoea is a land bird. Therefore, said the elders, there must be land somewhere to the south-west.

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“At last the restless energy and daring of the Maori and his instinct for exploring the unknown places, found expression once more when two great canoes, the Matahourua under the command of the famous Kupé, and the Tawhiri-rangi under the command of Ngahué, set forth from Tawhiti.

“They reached the land they sought, and it was Kupé who named it Aotea-roa, the Land-of-the-Long-Lingering-Daylight. It was Kupé who sailed through the straits called Raukawa (Cook's Straits) and thereby cut the land in two. What says the song?

“Ka tito au'
Ka tito au,
Ka tito au ia Kupé!
I sing a song,
I sing a song,
I sing a song of Kupé!
He scoured the Kiwa Sea,
And cleft this land in twain!

“Kupé and Ngahué returned in safety to Tawhiti, but the tales they bore were strange and some of them beyond belief. Ngahué spoke of the wingless moa bird he had slain, but the people laughed him to scorn when he said it was twice the height of a grown man. He showed them a portion of its flesh preserved in a hué gourd, but still the people would not believe the tale.

“Yet they thought highly of the greenstone boulder he brought back, and from it with patient labour the old people fashioned articles of great value, including the sacred weapon Pahikauré now held by Mawaké-Taupo.

“From that time onwards the thoughts of the people were continually turned towards the Aotea-roa of Kupé, and canoe after canoe departed from Tawhiti, but seldom did tidings come back across the waste of seas to show their fate.

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“Many generations passed, and then came the voyage of Toi-kai-rakau in the Paepae-ki-Rarotonga canoe in search of his grandson Whatonga. But enough! Sufficient for those canoes of former days! Prepare now to hear of the fleet that brought our people hither to Aotea-roa!”

Again there was silence throughout the Wharé-wananga. Every scholar there had heard the tale of the Great Migration, yet still would it be fresh and of vital interest to all. The knowledge being imparted would be preserved in the memory as a sacred trust, and even the very words to be used would be handed down to a generation yet unborn.

Another tohunga began to speak:

“Let us go back in the spirit for six or seven generations until we see a sunlit beach in beloved Tawhiti, and on it a vast number of people, all of the Maori blood!

“See! Te Arawa departs with us aboard. She gathers way! Listen! Hear ye not the lamentations of the people as we draw out from the shore? How they wail as they cry to us ‘Haeré ra!’ in farewell! Ah! Hear ye not the joyful reply of our paddling warriors, their fiercely triumphant chants as they drive Te Arawa across the blue lagoon? Like a huge sea-bird she sweeps along. And look! She heeds not those palm-trees along the shore there, bending their heads to her in sad farewell.

“Ha-a! The break in the reef! The thunder of the surf on either side! The swell in the channel! Heaved giddily aloft! Ai-i! Down again! Ha-a! The paddles! They drive her on. She seeks to mount the sky. Ai-i! The downward surge! But through! Through! The sea! Out now on the open sea!”

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Eagerly the scholars waited, thrilled, for every youth there could claim direct descent from one or more of the sixteen chiefs who sailed in that Arawa canoe. Then a sudden gasp came from one of the younger scholars and, with a curt reproof, the remaining tohunga carried on the tale:

“Te Arawa joined up with the other canoes of the Great Migration, the long single-hulled outrigger canoes named the Tainui, the Mataatua, the Takitumu, the Tokomaru, and the Kurahaupo; then together they sailed south-westward, guided by the sun by day and by the stars by night, the paddlers greatly aided by the prevailing wind which filled the matsails as the canoes sped along.

“Each canoe had its own head chief and sub-chiefs, and also its own tohunga-navigator to chant the sea-smoothing chants and to guide the canoe on its way. The leader of the Arawa canoe, as ye well know, was Tama-te-kapua, ancestor to our chief tohunga here, and his crew apart from the chiefs numbered more than one hundred men, warriors all, picked men, men of rank. The navigator was the dreaded tohunga Ngatoro-i-rangi, ancestor to the ariki Mawaké-Taupo, and to the aged Te Moana the Wise who sits so quietly in the shadows of yonder corner.

“And in the canoes came some children and numbers of women-folk, including the chieftainess Kearoa, the wife of Ngatoro-i-rangi. Indeed, tradition states that nearly all the canoes were crowded. Even Te Arawa, a double canoe and the largest vessel in the fleet, was crowded with human freight.

“The days and the nights passed by, and on cloudless evenings, as the canoes glided over the rolling water-ways and surmounted the long and easy swell of page 11 the Sea of Kiwa, the navigators lined the wavering prows upon the right hand of the setting sun and the low-hung star Kopu (Venus), seeking ever to follow upon the track laid down by Kupé so many generations before.

“The fleet kept together until it reached the island of Rarotonga, and there the canoes were drawn ashore and overhauled and then supplied with fresh food and water for the long voyage to the south-west. Seven days only were spent by our people with their hospitable kinsmen of Rarotonga, and on the eighth day the Great Fleet again put out to sea.

“The Tainui and the Tokomaru sailed through an opening in the reef at a place called Arorangi, on the western side of Rarotonga. Not far away was a stream called the Wai-te-kura, and from that stream departed Te Arawa and the other canoes of the fleet.

“For many days the canoes sped on towards the west and south, with the crews growing more and more tired and thirsty and sea-worn as the hot days of midsummer rolled by. Often and often did the warriors sigh for the languorous life and the luscious fruits and the cool waters of the palm-clad isles they had left. But no such longings troubled the vigorous minds of the chiefs and tohungas, for already they were mentally ‘treading’ the land of Aotea-roa and dividing up its choicest spots among their followers.

“Now Ngatoro-i-rangi of the Arawa canoe was a tohunga kokorangi, an expert in the language of the stars, and every night he spoke softly to his friends the Whanau Marama, the Children of Light on the breast of the Sky Parent. He loved to gaze on Te Maahu-Tonga (the Southern Cross) high up in the sky on the weather prow, and on the great belt of Te Mangaroa page 12 (the Milky Way) stretching across the heavens in noble fashion. But he spoke sternly to Rehua, the red-eyed star of summer, for sapping the strength of the paddlers in all the canoes. And every day, in the dim light of dawn, he joined the watchmen in the chants of praise to Tawera and Tariao, the bright morning stars.”

The tohunga paused for a moment, as he saw some of the scholars cast a hurried glance towards the central pillar. He smiled grimly as they hastily looked away again. He knew that to their eyes the carved figure of Ngatoro had moved, as if alive.

The recital proceeded:

“On, on, the Maori voyagers sailed, lifting up the heavens, pushing up the sky from horizon to horizon, pressing forward into unknown seas after the manner of their race. Listen to their chant:

“‘Lift up, O Sky!
Heave away!
Be thou propped up, O Sky!
Heave away!’

“ The sea changed in hue from blue to green and grew rougher. The canoes began to part company. Soon only Tainui was within sight of Te Arawa. Then arose the great storm in which Te Arawa was almost engulfed in the ‘Throat-of-the-Parata.’

“Ha!
The swelling sea, the rising sea,
The boisterous Sea of Kiwa!
O the foaming sea,
O the falling billows,
O the rising billows,
O the overwhelming billows
In the Sea of Kiwa!”

The voice ceased abruptly, for Taréha, the chief tohunga, had signified that he himself would close page 13 off the lesson. The interest of the pupils continued unabated. Complete silence showed the profound respect in which young and old viewed the proceedings of the Wharé-wananga. The building was tapu or sacred, the teaching was tapu, and tohungas and pupils would also be tapu throughout the whole term of the annual session.

“The deep voice of Taréha again:

“According to our traditions, it was Ngatoro who saved the Arawa canoe by the power of his incantation. Sufficient for that!

“Now listen!

“There was another canoe, the Aotea, under the chief Turi from the island of Rangiatea. It sailed about the same time, and it reached its destination, but it was not part of the fleet, nor did it call in at Rarotonga on the way. I have heard it said that Kurahaupo was wrecked on an island called Rangitahua (Sunday Island), and that Aotea saved numbers of her crew. As to this, however, our own traditions give no light. Neither can we speak of the Horouta canoe. Let the children of those canoes speak for themselves in their own schools of learning! Sufficient also for that!

“And now, give heed as I bring the canoe of our tribe safely to land on the shores of Aotea-roa!

“The day after the great storm, Tainui came again within sight of Te Arawa, but no sign of the other canoes was to be seen. Together Te Arawa and Tainui sailed on under the favouring influence of the north-east breeze, and at last the keen-eyed watchers beheld in the far distance what looked like a long white cloud.

“At once from each canoe a great cry went up:

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“‘The cliffs and peaks of Aotea-roa! The cliffs and peaks of Aotea-roa, the Land-of-the-Long-Lingering-Daylight, the Long-Bright-World of Kupé’!

“In plunged the paddles, as the warriors of Tainui and Te Arawa, with new strength in heart and limbs; drove the great canoes forward in a wild and sustained rush to be the first to land.

“We of Te Arawa say that Te Arawa reached land first, and that our men were already decorating their brows with the scarlet flowers of the pohutukawa trees, growing along the fringe of the cliffs, by the time the Tainui drew in to the shores of the bay near by. They of the Tainui canoe say that the Tainui was the first to reach the land. But who shall decide?

“And again, what of all the other canoes that safely arrived from across the Sea of Kiwa generations prior to our coming? What of the Mahuhu canoe, the Arai-te-uru, the Nukuteré, and the other canoes known now to the learned ones among the tribes?

“To them their fame! To us our fame! Enough!”

Silence again in the Wharé-wananga, and a darkening gloom! The fire had almost died out. Midnight had come, but still that double row of youths remained impassive, quietly alert, none daring to move until the chief tohunga should give the word. He but waited in courtesy now to see if his elder, still crouching in yonder corner, had aught to say.

And from the corner came the compelling voice of Te Moana the Wise, the aged priest who, many years before, had voluntarily given up his place to Taréha as chief of the tohungas, but who still loved to attend the sittings of the Wharé-wananga, offering friendly aid as occasion required, and imparting much knowledge to tohungas and pupils alike.

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“I dream of other days. The tale is true. The origin from Hawaiki-Far-Away! The origin from Hawaiki-Far-Away! Yes! Much of our history is still kept in its basket, the memory of man. But much has been lost. Ah! Soon I shall depart for where the dead of all the tribes now rest, for ever rest, but the knowledge handed down from Ngatoro must not die with me. It must be imparted, but to whom? To whom?

“Young art thou, O Manaia, yet thou art of the blood of the fair-haired Ngatoro, and for thy years, learned. Now Ngatoro it was who laid a curse upon his descendants if they should impart his special knowledge to others than of his blood. Grieve not therefore, O Taréha, if I hold back aught from thee, but grant this youth leave that he may be free at any time to accompany me in the spirit on the long journey back to Hawaiki.

“Prepare thyself beforehand, O Manaia, that both body and mind may be cleansed! Together we will dig deeply into the mysteries of the past and the present. Prepare thyself in the spirit, for that which thou wilt learn will be knowledge of the highest tapu, such as has been known to but few of our race from the beginning!

“Sufficient! Greetings to thee, O Taréha, and to thy learned tohungas! Greetings also to the youths of Te Arawa as they sit upon the threshold of life. Enough!”

For a brief space Taréha sat there, gazing steadily towards that far corner, and thinking deeply. Was a mere youth to be fed with knowledge denied even to the chief tohunga? His pride was wounded. He felt that Te Moana had purposely brought the matter up page 16 in order to reassert the leadership of the line descended from Ngatoro.

Yet he must not display his feelings before his pupils. Moreover, he dared not openly oppose Te Moana, nor did he think it wise to give affront to the young son of the ariki.

So, with the best grace possible but with a touch of bitterness in his tone not altogether unnoticed by one practised ear, he replied:

“Greetings also to thee, O Aged One of Hikurangi! Sufficient is it for me that thy wishes have been made known.

“ Now to your rest, O Children of the Wharé-wananga! Ye are tapu. Beware lest ye mix with any who are not of the Wharé -wananga and the tapu be thereby shattered! Enough! Away! Away!”

Casting aside the special garments used only in the Wharé-wananga, the scholars one by one passed through the open doorway to their sleeping-quarters outside. Two, however, remained behind.

One was the youth Manaia, now assisting his aged relative to his feet. No word passed between them, but a soft feather cloak was wrapped gently around those bowed shoulders. Then slowly, the one supporting the other, they moved towards the door. No word spoken, yet the heart of the old man warmed towards the youth for his kindly action.

The grandson of the chief tohunga also remained behind. Hate surged in his breast. Why should the youth Manaia be greater than Kahu in the Wharéwananga and in the pa? Why should Manaia alone be favoured with this special knowledge denied even to the chief of the tohungas? Was the spirit of Ngatoro-i-rangi to rule the destinies of the Arawas for page 17 ever and ever? Was Ngatoro greater than Tama-tekapua?

With thoughts such as these torturing his fiery mind, the youth but waited that, alone with his elder, he might settle these hateful questions once and for all. He watched Te Moana and Manaia as they passed by the dying fire. A stray twig blazed up brightly, lighting up the withered countenance of the old tohunga and bringing into sharp relief a nose hooked like a parrot's beak; lighting up also a bent and frail form that looked so puny in contrast with the one by its side.

Kahu longed to turn his back upon them both, but he dared not. So they moved out quietly, followed at a respectful distance by the tohungas who had assisted with the evening's lessons.

“O Kahu!” said Taréha. “Well for thee that thou didst not openly show what was in thy heart! Know this, that death and life are in the hands of Te Moana to bestow on whom he will, for in him are the powers of mind handed down through Ngatoro from remote ages! Bide thy time, therefore, O Impatient One, lest thou be destroyed or thou be smitten with insanity or with the living death of leprosy.

“As to Manaia, taihoa! Wait! He may die or be slain in battle; and if aught befall him the people of Hikurangi and perhaps of all Te Arawa will turn to thee, if thou be but worthy.

“Therefore, control thy tongue, O Kahu, control thy tongue, even as Manaia controls his! A chieftain of the Maori must control his tongue, for he cannot rule a warrior tribe unless he first rule himself.

“Now begone!”