Old New Zealand: Being Incidents of Native Customs and Character in the Old Times — John Shaqi
Old New Zealand: Being Incidents of Native Customs and Character in the Old TimesManing, Frederick Edward
History
Old New Zealand: Being Incidents of Native Customs and Character in the Old Times
Maning, Frederick Edward
Māori (New Zealand people); New Zealand -- Description and travel
Well, about three months after this, about day-light in the morning, I
was aroused by a great uproar of men shouting, doors smashing, and
women screaming. Up I jumped, and pulling on a few clothes in less
time, I am sure, than ever I had done before my in life, out I ran, and
at once perceived that Mr. ----'s premises were being sacked by the
rebellious vassal, who had returned with about fifty men, and was
taking this means of revenging himself for the rough handling he had
received from our chief. Men were rushing in mad haste through the
smashed windows and doors, loaded with anything and everything they
could lay hands on. The chief was stamping against the door of a room
in which he was aware the most valuable goods were kept, and shouting
for help to break it open. A large canoe was floating close to the
house, and was being rapidly filled with plunder. I saw a fat old Maori
woman, who was washerwoman to the establishment, being dragged along
the ground by a huge fellow who was trying to tear from her grasp one
of my shirts, to which she clung with perfect desperation. I perceived
at a glance that the faithful old creature would probably save a
sleeve. A long line of similar articles, my property, which had graced
the _taiepa_ fence the night before, had disappeared.
The old man-of-war's man had placed his back exactly opposite to that
part of the fence where hung a certain striped cotton shirt and
well-scrubbed canvas trowsers, which _could_ belong to no one but
himself. He was "hitting out" lustily right and left. Mr. ---- had been
absent some days on a journey, and the head merchant, as we found after
all was over, was hiding under a bed. When the old sailor saw me, he
"sang out," in a voice clear as a bell, and calculated to be distinctly
heard above the din:--"Hit out, sir, if you please; let's make a fight
of it the best we can; our mob will be here in five minutes; Tahuna has
run to fetch them." While he thus gave both advice and information, he
also set a good example, having delivered just one thump per word, or
thereabouts. The odds were terrible, but the time was short that I was
required to fight; so I at once floored a native who was rushing by me.
He fell like a man shot, and I then perceived he was one of our own
people who had been employed about the place; so, to balance things, I
knocked down another, and then felt myself seized round the waist from
behind, by a fellow who seemed to be about as strong as a horse.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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