Chapter VII. The Attack and Capture of Otu Pah.

The day was now breaking; the forest robin, by his “Tou! tou! tou! tou!” told of the coming day; the slaves were busy; and soon the din of pounding the fern-root re-echoed in the forest, rousing all who still slept. The younger boys and girls who had slept near the great fire awoke out of their sleep, and soon all within the pah were stirring. The warriors’ camp again showed signs of life. Old Nga was sitting up in a small shed apart from all the rest, and only large enough for one to sleep in. Takuai had also passed the night in a similar shed, separated from the warriors. The morning meal of fern-root was soon prepared. Only fern-root is eaten by a war party; it only is the food of Tu, the god of war; kumara¹ and all other kinds of food are forbidden until the war is over.

After they had finished their morning meal, all the warriors sat looking at the priests, Nga and Takuai. Tupu, who was the first to speak, said, “What are we

¹ The sweet potato.

page 115 to do? Need I ask if we know the work in which we are to act?”

Mato, a chief of the Kopura tribe, and also a priest, though yet young, said, “Yes. I dreamt that I saw the face of a female looking at me out of the ground. I know we shall not be beaten to-day.”

“We have not time to talk,” said Ngau. “Let each man repeat his kitao¹ over his weapon of war, and let us go to the tide of Tu.”

All the warriors now rose, and each one stepped aside into the forest to say his incantation over his weapon. Every man had his own kitao taught to him by his father or grandfather, which was sacred to the use of the family, each repeating his own in an undertone, lest any of his fellow-warriors should learn the words. Mato, the young priest, repeated the following over his weapon:—

“Descend, O descend,
Stretch forth thine arm, stretch forth;
This is the mantle of the night now coming,
This is the garb of day now coming,
With its godlike yet writhing soul.
Thy strength is failing;
O, angry heaven! by the strength of Tu
Mete out the stars, mete out the moon—
Thou shalt be smitten!”

As soon as this ceremony was over, the men marched in a line close to each other towards Otu pah. A number of the younger warriors went in advance of the main body, and while yet at some distance from Otu,

¹ Incantation.

page 116 they saw a party from that pah, which defied them to the attack; but they kept out of reach of the kotaha¹ arrows, and remained sheltered behind a small clump of karaka² trees until the main body came up. This grove grew by the side of a creek, close to which was a kumara plantation. While here, they were saluted by a war-dance from the pah and a volley of kotaha arrows.

The attacking party having sat down, Ngau said to them, “As our foe is not very powerful, go, O young men! and face them, and let the proverb be fulfilled by you which says, ‘The small grub may fell the large tree.’ If you cannot take the pah, your fathers will follow and teach you.”

This was an order the young men had not expected to hear, and in great glee they at once left the sitting warriors and went out into the open. The grove of karakatrees was the point of a forest which grew on the spur of a ridge coming from the mountains. To the southwest of the grove was the pah, while the kumara plantation was on the west, and between the karaka-trees and the creek. One of the trees had been blown down and the earth torn up by the roots, and the trunk of the tree itself formed a breastwork, behind which sat the women and children, who had come from Te Roto. They were talking and laughing, not seeming to think of war, death, or defeat. The young warriors rushed up to the pah, and attacked it by throwing some of their arrow-spears into it; but as they could not take deliberate aim, there were no casualties at first.

A cry was heard in the pah. One of the arrows had done its work. Encouraged by the wail, three young men hurried up to a small thicket close to the pah. A young Otu warrior stepped cautiously out, and, before his spear was seen, had sent it through the chest of one of their number. The other two defended their comrade until assistance came up. The young man who had done the deed retired unhurt, and in great glee page 118 returned to the pah. The crying ceased, and a loud yell of triumph was heard.

The corpse was borne to the karaka grove, and laid down behind the fallen tree, in the midst of the laughing women. One of them remarked, “How soon they have killed one of our men!” Another said, “He was here just now!”

But one of them, a young woman who was about two paces from the corpse, sat in mute amazement, looking more like a statue of stone than a being of flesh and blood. She did not move, not a tear was in her eye, the only perceptible sign of life being a slight quivering in the muscles of the neck. Thus she sat for some time.

When the corpse was borne past, Tupu, who was sitting with a group of chiefs near the mound, stood up, looked at the face, and sat down again covering his face with his mat, beneath the folds of which could be seen the heaving of the brave man's chest, caused by the fulness of his sorrow. He rose, took two or three steps towards the corpse, then back to where he had been sitting; he said, “O people! where are you? Where are the sons of my tribe?” Then addressing Nga, “True, O father! were your words when you told us what my words meant. True, what you told my younger brother when he sang a song to us at the Tama, and made his speech. True, you said he sang his own death dirge. True, O father! true was your interpreting of the omens.”

These words had the effect of arousing the young page 119 woman to a moment's consciousness; she was the wife of the dead. She took one step towards the lover of her youth, leaned her head on his breast without a word, and once, only once, looked up at Tupu as he said:

“Sons of Mahu, to-day I must die! Why should I live when my Heitiki ornament has been plucked from my breast? We have seen the works of Tu ere this. We have been in the tide of war together.” Then addressing the young woman leaning on the corpse: “Weep, my child, and tell your sorrows until I come back with ample revenge. Weep, and let me hear your shrill scream of woe above the din of battle. Tell your grief to the clouds as they pass; let your voice be heard up to the stars; it shall be our word of command. Rise, O sons of revenge! and follow me.”

Thus speaking to his men, who had been leaning on their spears whilst listening to him, he and his men with a few bounds were gone from the karaka grove. They jumped down the bank of the creek, and went half running, half walking up the winding stream towards Otu pah.

Not a word had the young woman spoken, nor had she moved since she looked up at Tupu.

“They are gone,” said a young woman to her, “they are gone; look up, and let us listen for the voices of the warriors in the fight which must at once begin.”

Receiving no answer, she touched the mourner, who moved, but it was to fall as only the dead fall; her page 120 face turned towards him she had loved so much. And they lay side by side.

Suddenly the command of Tupu was heard to echo in the mountains; it echoed and re-echoed as the valleys repeated the words,

“Tu, of the sharp face, Charge! ho! charge!”

Then followed the chorus yell of his men,

“Urge on! urge on!”

Only Tupu's own men had followed him; but when his command echoed in the grove, those warriors who had remained behind sprung forward to join the others, and only the women were left behind. All was silent; nothing could be heard save the Riro-riro,¹ whose feeble notes of “Tidall-tidall-tidall-tit!” sounded like the voice of mockery at the dead. But soon the din of voices, screaming, yelling, shouting, and weeping from the pah, sounded like the swell of the ocean. Wave after wave of sound came, now in a loud blast, then in a low wail of agony. A feeble scream of triumph, and all was over.

Tupu and his men followed the windings of the creek, walking on the sand and pebbles at the edge of the water, and soon came in sight of the pah, when he repeated the words of the song of attack, and led his men directly up to a breastwork on the bank of the creek, formed by logs laid on each other, and which was one of the outworks of the pah. They were opposed only by a few men, who hurriedly threw their spears without effect among the attacking party. The

¹ The wren Gerygone flaviventris, Buller's ‘N. Z. Birds,’ p. 107.

page 121 warriors who had last left the grove, now came bounding on to the affray, and joined Tupu and his men, who had gained the top of the breastwork. The defenders of Otu had not prepared for an attack from the creek side, hence they were taken by surprise, and a panic ensued. The women and children rushed out of the opposite side of the pah into the charge of the attacking party. The warriors’ yell of triumph, the screams of women and children, and the moans of the dying could be heard above the war-cry of Tupu and his men as they charged the defenders in the interior of the pah. Then followed the yell of despair uttered by the defenders as they for a moment drove back Tupu and his men.

Haupa, the old priestess, was the last of the women to leave the pah. Tall and erect, she walked with a hani¹ in her hand. She saw the warriors coming, and aged as she was, she sprang to the front, and stood at the open gate, and with one blow of her hani smote the first man to the ground. Her eyes flashed with an insane glare as she looked at the warriors she must meet, and by whose hands she must die. Her hair, white with age, was hanging loosely in wild confusion down her wrinkled shoulders like the white foam of a cascade. She thus stood confronting a warrior who poised his tao,² while she prepared to parry his blow. A warrior passing swiftly through the pah observed her, the mother of him whose murderous

¹ Carved spear.

² A long spear, sharp at both ends.

page 122 act had caused the war. He stood a moment gazing at the defiant attitude with which she kept her enemy at bay. Te Rou, for he it was, claimed his right to slay, and with one bound his uplifted meré smote her temple. She had not seen nor heard him who thus brought her grey hairs to the dust, in mingled brains and blood. So low and silent now she lay, as dead.

The pah was taken, the dead were not like human beings; so covered with dust and gore, they looked like mounds of earth in the shape of man. Paré now entered the pah. A group of women and children were near the trunk of a large tree which had been hollowed by the fires made in it to give light to those men whose mangled bodies, now so silent in death, had made those fires to light them in their midnight work. Paré, wishing to capture as many slaves as he could before the others came in, ordered the women and children to enter the hollow tree; those who obeyed he protected from the hands of his own party, but those who fled met instant death, with none to pity or spare.

In his glee Paré danced before his captives in front of the hollow tree, whilst the women and children at intervals cut themselves with stones and broken shells; now sobbing, now moaning, now crying and howling for their fathers, brothers, husbands, and relatives, and hugging their children with the frenzy of fiends.

Now might be seen warriors disputing for a woman, girl, or child, and to end the dispute, one would deal page 123 a heavy blow with his meré on the head of the already half-dead being, who had been nearly torn limb from limb by the contending warriors, and, releasing his hold, would say, “Take our food now.”

Kaito heard the yell of triumph given by his foes when his mother fell, and, having now no one to protect, he sprang into the creek and gained the opposite bank. A spear pierced his ankle, he lost his hold of a tuft of ti,¹ fell back, and became a prisoner; when a loud voice said,

“Not death yet, but follow me.”

Kaito did not utter one word as he repassed through his own pah, and coming out the front gate he beheld an old woman partly kneeling and partly lying on her knees and elbows, her face in her hands, and her hands in the dust. Her skull was broken, and her blood had mixed with her white hairs and become clotted; he saw that the body still moved and breathed. It was his mother. He did not speak, but followed on with Rete, and sat down near to the prisoners in the hollow tree.

Tupu issued through the gate, driving before him a blind man, his wife, and three children, whom in the heat of battle, and as they rushed into the pah, he had ordered to take refuge on a house-top. Lives thus saved are tapu, and no one durst touch them.

The victors were reckless with excitement, some danced and grinned at each other; others for their own amusement and to taunt the captives, fought the battle

¹ Cordyline Australis.

page 124 over again, repeating each parry and thrust given in the fight by those they had killed. The dead lay where they had fallen, here and there amongst their victors, like sleepers. The youths, to mock their silence, with blows called them to rise and cook the midnight repast. The body of Haupa alone felt and yielded to such blows.

“The sun has not yet set,” said one. “Why let her live?”

Three youths arose, and with laugh and jeer called attention to their act; they struck each his blow again and then again on her head with his meré. The wrinkled body of the old priestess quivered for a time, and was still for ever.

Tupu, addressing the people, said, “We sleep here tonight; on the morrow we can return to our wives and children, and tell our victory to the warriors left behind to guard Te Roto. Who can speak, if I may not say what is to be done with the bodies of the slain? Our revenge has been great; you say we have killed many people. Let no one ask to eat the slain. Am I not right to speak thus? Is there not a child of mine slain? Ere we sleep, let the slain be put below the face of the earth. We must not sleep while they with sightless eyes look at us. Collect the dead, O my people! and take them out of our sight. They are our relatives; for their evil we killed them; but being our fathers and brothers we will not eat them.”

Nga said, “What my son has said is good. The gods would not like our people to eat those who can page 125 now do no more evil. Put them to sleep, but let them sleep in one bed.”

Without uttering a word the men rose, and, taking an arm or leg, dragged the bodies along the ground in silent rage, not heeding stones, or roots, or clods of earth.

The dragging of the bodies over these caused the arms or legs to be thrown hither and thither, and the heads to jump from side to side, opening and shutting the jaws, thus causing the teeth to grind and snap together, like the gnashing of despair at their mortal foes. The bodies were hurled into a trench of the pah. Old and young, men and women, girls and infants were all thrown in together, and logs and stones heaped on them. The last corpse brought was that of a young man who had been pierced in the chest by a spear. He who carried him to the trench said, “This one is warm. He is not dead.”

“Warm or not,” cried Rete, “I am cold, and shall leave him to warm the ground.”

The other bodies were already covered when he was brought. They laid him on the top, and put a few small branches and some grass over him. Stooping down, they pawed the earth into the trench like so many dogs scratching.

Rising erect, Rete said, “I am tired. He can complete his own bed now. If it is not to his liking let his wife or mother get up and help him if he is not satisfied.”

Thus they were left half-buried in the trench page 126 which themselves had dug as a defence from their foes.

The young people gathered wood for the fires round which all were to sleep; they could not pass the night in the pah, blood having been shed there. The fires soon burned; and round each one men and women sat in a circle. They had no food that night, nor could they again eat until the whangai-o-tu¹ had been performed. They talked, and laughed, and sang songs of old till it was midnight. Save one or two at each fire, they lay down where each was sitting and slept. A few kept watch to guard the sleepers. The warriors slept with their weapons in their hands.

Rete was in the midst of a song sung by his mother, which she had composed on account of his father having forsaken her for another wife (he had learnt it from her just before she threw herself over a cliff), when he saw, or thought he saw, a man walking in the pah. He stopped, and looked timidly towards the place where he had seen the object. The other watchmen had been listening to the song with their heads bowed on their knees, for all were in a sitting posture, keeping close to the fire for warmth. The sudden stoppage of the song caused them to look up; and seeing Rete gazing earnestly towards the pah, they looked in the same direction and saw something. Rete silently grasped his spear. All sat in suspense and fear. The person came towards them with the cautious step of one either in dread or weak in

¹ The ceremonies due to the god of war.

page 127 body. They saw him plainly now. On and on he came directly towards the fire round which they sat. The unknown passed close to a fire which was now extinct; the watchman had neglected to replenish it. Round this a greater number of girls were sleeping in preference to the other fires, because there the watch and other men were young. On he came, close to them; but the young watchers had exhausted themselves in talking and laughing with the girls; they now nodded to the fireless embers. A groan! a scream! a shriek! and they awoke. A girl had been hurt by some one treading on her. In the pain she awoke to see a man glaring at her, his eyelids set and immovable. Blood and dust had dried on his face: The watch jumped to their feet; seeing the apparition, they fled. Rete recognised the unknown, and, not wishing to lose a little sport, save an occasional low titter, sat perfectly still. The girl who had been suddenly aroused from her sleep fled towards the fire where her father slept; but in the dark and confusion (for all were awake and in fear, some standing with their arms ready, while others only sat up) she ran to a person whose head was partly covered, and whose hair appeared slightly grey, like her father's. In her frenzy of fear she clasped him round the neck, nearly choking him; and in his struggles to free himself she heard a voice. A girl called to the startled crowd, and said. “Look at that girl, how she is hugging Pipo, the slave.”

The girl, recognising the voice as not that of her page 128 father, sulkily loosed her embrace, and sat down. Pipo had no love for the living or pity for the dead, but felt the spirit of revenge rise in him. He laughed, and a voice from the trench where the dead were laid was heard to ask, “Pipo, who was that who made love to you?”

Pipo answered, “Go to sleep.”

“But why did you not tell her that you loved her in return?” again asked the voice. The girl sat looking at Pipo in amazement.

The risen man went and sat down by the fire where Rete was sitting. He looked like a compound of life and death—the result of war in human form—life without voice, death still alive, sitting among men, women, and children, who knew no pity save to self. He had not sat long, when Rete and one of the watch rose, each taking him by an arm, lifted him up, led him a few paces from the fire, and, while still standing, smote him on the head with their merés. Rete, having satisfied himself this time that he was dead, said, “You must sleep now, for your mother never sang an ori ori (lullaby) that could soothe to sounder sleep than our merés. You may remain where you are; as we are not allowed to eat you, we shall not trouble ourselves to bury you. Remain where you are.”

The awakened sleepers, having seen the cause of their fear and witnessed his fate, were satisfied, and quietly went to sleep again. The principal prisoner, Kaito, was under the charge of Taonui, who allowed page 129 him to sleep among his men as if he was one of his tribe. Kaito made no attempt to escape, but remained quiet; nor did he appear to ask about, or even to think about, his mother Haupa. Paré's prisoners slept in the hollow tree, while he slept in the opening, to keep guard over them.