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
The case I have just described would, however, be one of more than
ordinary importance; slighter "accidents and offences" would be atoned
for by a milder form of operation. But the general effect was to keep
personal property circulating from hand to hand pretty briskly, or
indeed to convert it into public property; for no man could say who
would be the owner of his canoe, or blanket, in a month's time. Indeed,
in that space of time, I once saw a nice coat, which a native had got
from the captain of a trading schooner, and which was an article much
coveted in those days, pass through the hands, and over the backs, of
six different owners, and return, considerably the worse for wear, to
the original purchaser; and all these transfers had been made by legal
process of _muru_. I have been often myself paid the compliment of
being robbed for little accidents occurring in my family, and have
several times also, from a feeling of politeness, robbed my Maori
friends; though I can't say I was a great gainer by these transactions.
I think the greatest haul I ever made was about half a bag of shot,
which I thought a famous joke, seeing that I had sold it the day before
to the owner for full value. A month after this I was disturbed early
in the morning, by a voice shouting "Get up!--get up! I will kill you
this day. You have roasted my grandfather. Get up!--_stand_ up!" I, of
course, guessed that I had committed some heinous though involuntary
offence, and the "stand up" hinted the immediate probable consequences;
so out I turned, spear in hand, and who should I see, armed with a
bayonet on the end of a long pole, but my friend the late owner of the
bag of shot. He came at me with pretended fury; made some smart bangs
and thrusts, which I parried, and then explained to me that I had
"cooked his grandfather;" and that if I did not come down handsome in
the way of damages, deeply as he might regret the necessity, his own
credit, and the law of _muru_, compelled him either to sack my house,
or die in the attempt. I was glad enough to prevent either event, by
paying him two whole bags of shot, two blankets, divers fish-hooks, and
certain figs of tobacco, which he demanded. I found that I had really
and truly committed a most horrid crime. I had on a journey made my
fire at the foot of a tree, in the top of which the bones of my
friend's grandfather had once been deposited, but from which they had
been removed ten years before. The tree caught fire and had burnt down:
and I, therefore, by a convenient sort of figure of speech, had
"roasted his grandfather," and had to pay the penalty accordingly.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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