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Plume of the Arawas

V. The Giant Totara Falls

page 111

V. The Giant Totara Falls

Oh, thou wert as the sacred tree
Of Far-Hawaiki, beyond the Isle
Of Great-Tawhiti,
The bread-fruit tree that shaded Uenuku's house.
Thou wert as the trees cut down
To build the Arawa Canoe,
The trees felled with the axe Hahau-te-rangi.
The glory of the heavens has gone!

With his back to the inward-sloping wall of rock, Mawaké-Taupo turned like a shark upon his enemies as the net closed in around him.

He had discovered the party of Tuhoe warriors near the head of the gorge and, on the near approach of day, he had moved slowly back, quite unconscious of the greater danger that threatened. But at daybreak he had seen them, some ten or twelve warriors in front of him, and a further seven or eight rushing down to their aid.

And now, once, twice, he raised his powerful voice in the rallying-cry of his tribe:

“Te A-ra-wa-a-a!”
“Te A-ra-wa-a-a!”

but the wind was blowing up the gorge, and the cry did not reach the sentries at the central rock. Yet the sound carried to Manaia as he forced his way through a tangle of vines, and he repeated that cry so that his father might know he was at hand.

By some freak of the wind, Manaia's cry carried through the forest but did not penetrate to the gorge below. The Arawas at the central rock heard his page 112 cry, and hastily their swiftest runners dashed up the forest tracks to his aid. But Tuhoe warriors were nearer still, and they also heard that cry. Almost at once Manaia and Rata were beset on every side. Rata armed himself with the weapon of the first man slain.

Down in the gorge, the death-battle of the ariki had already begun, yet still no hint of his impending fate had reached him. Even as he fought his thoughts were on his son, but he only fought the harder for it, as with deadly thrust and skilful parry he held the Tuhoes off. Ha! The quivering Pahikauré!

They had tried to rush him at the start, but ever he had kept moving, so that only two or three might reach him at one time. In their efforts to get at close quarters they had impeded each other, and ever the Arawa had made them follow as he had moved along with his back still protected by the rock.

At each rush he had hurled them off, and at each rush the sharp-edged Pahikauré had bitten deeply into at least one Tuhoe brain. With his tremendous reach no Tuhoe could get within his guard. Already some five or six attackers lay dead or dying, while another two would fight no more that day.

The remainder drew back. Truly this Arawa shark tore holes in the Tuhoe net, but the net was still across the gorge, and the way of escape cut off.

They changed their method of attack. They hurled spears at him, but he merely laughed as he deflected them on to the rock. Child's play! The youngest warrior of Te Arawa could deflect a thrown spear or many thrown spears. Let them try something else, cried he, lest his Arawas should come and the fight end too soon!

page 113

Tuhoe did try something else. They tried to tempt him out. By one means or by another this Arawa had to be tempted out from his protecting wall. Ah! High above him along the cliff edge moved several Tuhoes, holding jagged rocks, ready to throw, but the Arawa knew it not.

The Tuhoe leader taunted him and tempted him.

“Thou crayfish!” he cried. “Come forth from thy rock, that I may fight thee here single-handed!”

He moved away from the others, and stood but a short distance off, flourishing his weapon at MawakéTaupo. The watchers above raised their rocks on high, ready to throw.

But the Arawa only laughed again, and invited all the Tuhoes to attack him where he stood. Sure of his weapon and of himself, and of that rock at his back, he but dallied with his foes while he awaited the arrival of his men. Surely by this time his Arawas would be running up the gorge to his aid. He would capture these Tuhoes, and drag from them some news about his son.

Not even when a few more Tuhoes came running down the gorge did Mawaké-Taupo show concern, but he was curious to know the tidings that they bore. What news did that warrior whisper in the leader's ear that caused him to start with such surprise? And why should that light of understanding appear in the leader's eyes as he listened?

“O Arawa,” cried the Tuhoe, “now the light comes clearly. Thou art here to seek tidings of thy son, and in the arrogance of thy strength thou hast come alone. Now tidings we give thee. Thy son is dead.”

For a while the stricken ariki could only stand in page 114 silence there, in mental anguish from the force of the sudden blow. Manaia dead? Then, quietly:

“In what manner did he die?”

“He died, O Arawa,” replied the Tuhoe, “in the same manner as died our chief, and upon the same spot. He fell over the cliff on to the rocky basin below. He could not see. His eyes were put out, by fire.”

One frightful roar of rage Mawaké-Taupo gave as he leaped. The Tuhoe leader turned to fly, but was too late, for a terrific blow from Pahikauré sent him down with his head a pulp.

Beside himself with grief and fury, the Arawa placed his foot upon his fallen foe and glared around for fresh victims of his wrath. Blind with rage, he saw not the danger from above until three great rocks came rushing down upon him.

One missed him and landed with a thud at his feet, but the other two found their mark. One tore a jagged hole in his shoulder, but it was the other that gave the fatal blow. It hit his straightened leg and smashed the bone above the ankle.

Down crashed the ariki like a falling tree, but in a moment he was half-up again, and, with his weapon, had cleft the skull of a Tuhoe who had dashed in upon him to give the finishing blow. Then, heaving himself up on to one leg, he waited for the final attack, while again he gave forth the rallying-call of his tribe:

“Te A-ra-wa-a!”

“Te A-ra-wa-a!”

As the Tuhoe warriors prepared to launch a smothering rush, fierce cries from the cliff above made them all look upwards. A struggle was going on up there, but the end came quickly. Upon the cliff edge page 115 appeared a giant Arawa, at sight of whom MawakeéTaupo gasped with joy, while from his foes there came a cry of horror, for high above Manaia's head was held, by powerful arms, a Tuhoe, kicking.

Beside Manaia appeared Rata, and he also had his Tuhoe, but not above his head. Together they heaved, and together the rock-throwers, the one rolling over and over in mid-air and the other sweeping down to death like a bird in flight, followed hard upon the track of their rocks. More merciful was the end of the third Tuhoe lying dead upon the cliff above, but not more swift.

Then down the cliff face came Manaia, lowered rapidly by Rata from above at the end of the flax rope. Tuhoe warriors rushed to meet him, but others hurled themselves in a body upon the doomed ariki.

Manaia kicked himself out from the cliff wall and landed outside the group of warriors waiting for him below, then tore his way into their midst and scattered them right and left.

The next moment, down the ariki crashed again as a dying Tuhoe, with convulsive grasp, dragged his leg from under him. And, as he fell, another Tuhoe drove a heavy stabbing-spear into that mighty chest, just above the heart. The death-blow would be to him, but he would not live to boast the deed. Manaia slew him as he fled.

The survivors of Tuhoe drew back. They had had enough. They moved some distance up the gorge, and there they waited, to see the end. Not even when they saw Rata joined on the cliff above by a crowd of Arawas did they seek to fly. They were safe. No further fighting would take place. Undue haste to avenge the death of an ariki would be out of place. page 116 Vengeance would come, vengeance full and brimming over, but not yet.

So they waited and watched as did the Arawas on the cliff above, in silence, for never again might they see the death agony of so great a chief. It would be a tale to be told with bated breath to their children's children in the years to come. So they waited.

Manaia had quickly built up a mound of the slain, and against this mound the dying chief was resting; his face towards Hikurangi in the north-west, but his eyes for Manaia alone. Presently he spoke:

“I warned the youths of thy band against rashness, yet was I more rash than they. Ah! I feared for thee, and I tried to reach thee through the powers of the mind, but could not, for the channels of thought seemed all clogged up. Yes, I feared for thee, O my son, but I would not let my warriors see this weakness in their chief. So, recklessly, I went up the gorge alone.”

A fit of coughing caused blood to flow freely, but the dying man rallied. Manaia knelt beside him; he could not speak. The loved voice went on:

“Think not that they overwhelmed thy father with their numbers! Not that! They told me thou wert dead. They told me they had blinded thee with fire and made thee plunge to death on the rocks below the pa.

“O Manaia, truly the strength of the body is in the mind. For a moment my mind gave way. I leaped from the rock and, like the shark on the seashore, by my very strength was I tangled up in the net. The end came swiftly, and where now is my strength?”

He stopped for breath, as another burst of coughing came and left him weak. Of the pain from his wounds and his broken limb he gave no sign. It was the page 117 coughing that distressed him. His voice grew weaker:

“My White Hawk reached the Tuhoe nest. Tell me ere I die how it was done!”

Briefly, Manaia described the ascent of the cliff, the slaying of the sentries, the death of Manawa-roa, the manner of Rata's escape, and the unexpected delays on the way back. To the tale his father listened with a joy that could not be hidden, and, as Manaia finished, he unbound the blood-stained Pahikauré from his wrist and, holding it by the blade, he placed the handle of that noble weapon in Manaia's grasp, saying:

“ This for thee, for thou art worthy!”

Every Arawa gazing down upon the scene knew the meaning of that act. The ariki was dying, but his mana would descend upon his son. Overcome with emotion, Manaia could only press the weapon to his brow, but, as he did so, he noticed that its hue was turning black. Again the ancient sign! Weakly, the ariki went on:

“And now the end approaches, for the Canoe of Death awaits me, O Manaia. Yes, soon my spirit will journey to Te Rerenga-Wairua and then back along the pathway of the setting sun to the Homeland, to Hawaiki, to the Hono-i-Wairua, the Gathering-Place-of-Souls before Io-the-Parent, Io-of-the-Hidden-Face, Io-the-Permanent-One.”

Again came that dreadful coughing, but the vitality of the man was wonderful, and, with an effort, he proceeded:

“ That which I have still to say must be said quickly. As to my beloved Marama, give her the message which thou knowest is in my heart! Her spirit is with me as I speak. Ah! I know that thou wilt protect thy page 118 little sister. But guard her mind also, for the powers of the tohungas are great!

“Be not anxious to tread in my path, O Manaia, for it has been the pathway of war and death! Rather follow the call to the south, the call that comes from Taupo and Tongariro. Then shall thy feet be upon the mountains and thine outlook be towards the distant horizon.

“And as to the chieftainship of Hikurangi, let Taréha have it if the people wish it! Thou wilt still be the ariki, and to thee the tribe will turn in time of need, for thou art Tu-wharé-toa, the Brave-House-of-Tu, the God of War.”

With the end approaching, the voice trailed off into a mere whisper; but now with indomitable spirit Mawaké-Taupo signed to his son to lift him up. Yes! He would die upon his feet, and with his last bit of strength he would give his farewell message to his people.

With one strong arm of Manaia supporting him, he stood there swaying, and gazed first at the Tuhoe warriors up the gorge and then at the Arawas on the cliff edge above him. Then for a brief moment his strength and his voice seemed to suddenly come back to him, and he cried:

“Farewell to the sunlight, and to forest and hill! Farewell to the birds who have sung their morning song! Farewell to my home on Hikurangi and to the lovely valley below it! Farewell to the tribe! Greetings to my warriors, and to the warriors of Tuhoe, for they also are brave men! Greetings, and farewell!

“And now, as I die, I give a new name to my son. Manaia the youth is dead, and in his place stands a man, the man Tu-wharé-toa, Tuwharétoa of the page 119 Arawas. And with my last breath I chant the fame of my Canoe:

“Te Arawa is the Canoe!
Te Arawa is the Tribe!
Te A-ra-wa! Te A-ra-wa!
Te A—–”

The great voice ceased abruptly as the end came. Barely had Manaia the strength to support the dead.

The Tuhoe warriors raised their weapons, then moved off in silence up the gorge; but from the Arawas on the cliff above there burst forth a brief lament:

Aué! Aué! Aué!
Kua hinga, kua hinga te totara-nui—–
Mawaké-Taupo!
Alas! Alas! Alas!
The giant totara tree is fallen, is fallen—–
Mawaké-Taupo!”

………..

And as the spirit of the ariki passed on through the thin barrier, the rau wharangi, that separates life from death, the people on Hikurangi in the north-west heard again a piercing scream of anguish from the topmost tower.

Still standing there was Marama, but now her hands were pressed against her face as if to shut out a scene revealed to her alone Still not a man in all that pa looked upwards at that graceful form, so pathetic now in its drooping loveliness, for not thus did they wish to see the Puhi maiden of their tribe.

But presently, as Niwareka ascended and gently placed some garments around her, Marama drew herself up proudly, and gazed down upon her people with eyes undimmed by tears, while from set lips came the calm words:

Kua maté taku matua! Kua maté taku matua! My father is dead! My father is dead! Ka mutu! Finished!”

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