### Chapter VIII
The Present of the Country They Were In

Glenarvan would have liked to begin following the coast to Auckland without losing an hour, but the sky had filled with heavy clouds as the morning advanced, and at eleven o’clock — after they had unloaded the raft — the clouds burst in violent rain. Instead of setting off, they had to seek shelter.

Luckily, Wilson discovered a sea cave in the basaltic rocks of the shore. The travellers took refuge there with their arms and provisions. There was a whole crop of dried kelp that had been washed up by the waves. It made a natural bedding. A few pieces of wood were piled up at the entrance of the cave, then lit, and everyone dried themselves as well as possible.

John hoped that the duration of this torrential rain would be in inverse proportion to its violence. This was not to be. The hours passed without bringing a change in the state of the sky. The wind freshened toward noon and increased to a squall. This contretemps would have tried the most patient of men, but what could they do? It would have been folly to brave such a storm without any vehicle. Besides, it should only take a few days to reach Auckland, and a delay of twelve hours would not be detrimental to the expedition — if they didn’t encounter any natives.

Conversation in the grotto

During this forced stop, the conversation turned to the history of the war to which New Zealand was now the theatre. To understand and appreciate the gravity of the circumstances in which the castaways of the Macquarie were thrown, it was necessary to know the history of this struggle which roiled the island of Te Ika-a-Māui.

Since the arrival of Abel Tasman in Cook Strait on December 16th, 1642, the Māori, often visited by European ships, had remained free in their independent islands. No European power thought of seizing this archipelago which commands the seas of the Pacific. Only the missionaries, established at various points, brought the benefits of Christian civilization to these new countries. Some of them, and especially the Anglicans, were preparing the Māori chiefs to bend under the yoke of England. The latter were skillfully manipulated into signing a letter addressed to Queen Victoria to demand her protection. But the most clear-sighted foresaw the foolishness of this step, and one of them, after applying the image of his tattoo on the letter, uttered these prophetic words: “We have lost our country; henceforth it is no longer ours. Soon the stranger will come to seize it and we will be his slaves.”

On January 29th, 1840, the corvette Herald arrived at the Bay of Islands, in the north of Te Ika-a-Māui. Captain Hobson landed at the village of Kororareka. The inhabitants were invited to meet in a general assembly in the Protestant church. There the titles given to Captain Hobson by the Queen of England were read.

On the 6th of February,fn1 the principal Māori chiefs were summoned to an English residence at the village of Paihia. Captain Hobson sought their submission, saying that the Queen had sent troops and ships to protect them, that their rights were guaranteed, that their freedom remained intact. They kept ownership of their land, but henceforth they would only be allowed to sell it to the British Government.fn2

The majority of the chiefs, finding the protection too expensive, refused to acquiesce. But the promises and the presents had more power over their wild natures than the great words of Captain Hobson, and many of them did sign the treaty. From this year, 1840, until the day the Duncan left the Firth of Clyde, what happened? Nothing was unknown to Jacques Paganel, and he was ready to instruct his companions about all of it.

“Madame,” he answered Lady Helena’s questions, “I will repeat what I have already said, that the New Zealanders are a brave people who, having yielded for a moment, resist surrendering every additional foot to the English invaders. The Māori tribes are organized like the ancient clans of Scotland. There are many great families under one chief, who is very jealous of his prerogatives. The men of this race are proud and brave, some tall, with smooth hair, similar to the Maltese, or Jews of Baghdad, others smaller, stocky, like mulattoes, but all are robust, haughty and warlike. They had a famous chef named Hihi, a veritable Vercingetorix,fn3 so you will not be surprised if the war with the English is chronic in the territory of Te Ika-a-Māui, where William Thompsonfn4 leads the famous tribes of Waikato in defence of their lands.”

“But aren’t the English masters of the principal ports of New Zealand?” asked John Mangles.

“No doubt, my dear John,” replied Paganel. “From 1840 to 1862, after Captain Hobson — who later became Governor of the island — took possession, nine colonies were founded in the most advantageous positions. From there, nine provinces were established, four in the North Island: Auckland, Taranaki, Wellington, and Hawke’s Bay; five in the South Island: Nelson, Marlborough, Canterbury, Otago, and Southland, with a general population of 180,346, as of June 30th, 1864. Important cities and commercial enterprises have risen all over. When we arrive at Auckland you will admire without reservation the state of affairs in this southern Corinth dominating its narrow isthmus, cast as a bridge to the Pacific Ocean, and which already has twelve thousand inhabitants. To the west, New Plymouth; to the east, Ahuriri; and to the south, Wellington are already flourishing and busy cities. On the island of Te Waipounamu, you would be spoiled for choice between Nelson, this Montpellier of the Antipodes, the garden of New Zealand; Picton, on the Cook Strait; Christchurch; Invercargill; and Dunedin in the opulent province of Otago, where gold-diggers come from all over the world. And note that these are not assemblages of a few huts, an agglomeration of a few wild families, but real cities, with ports, cathedrals, banks, docks, botanical gardens, museums of natural history, acclimatization societies, newspapers, hospitals, charitable institutions, philosophical institutes, Freemasons’ lodges, clubs, choral societies, theatres and palaces of universal exposition, neither more nor less than in London or Paris! And if my memory is faithful this past year — and perhaps still, at the moment when I speak to you — the industrial products of the whole globe are being exhibited in a country of cannibals!”

“What! Despite the war with the natives?” asked Lady Helena.

“The English, Madame, are little concerned about the war!” said Paganel. “They fight and they exhibit at the same time. It does not disturb them. They even build railways under the rifles of Māori. In the province of Auckland, the Drury Railway and the Mere Mere Railway cut through lands occupied by the rebels. I would wager that the workers are shooting from the tops of the locomotives.”

“But where is this endless war?” asked John Mangles.

“Six months have passed since we left Europe,” said Paganel, “I can not know what has happened since our departure, except for a few facts which I have read in the papers of Maryborough and Seymour during our crossing of Australia. But at that time there was still a lot of fighting on the island of Te Ika-a-Māui.”

“When did this war commence?” asked Mary Grant.

“You mean ‘recommence,’ my dear Miss,” said Paganel. “The first insurrection took place in 1845. The current war began toward the end of 1863, but the Māori were preparing to shake off the yoke of English rule long before then. The Māori King Movement had an active campaign to elect a Māori leader. They wanted to make old Potatau their king, and his village between the rivers Waikato and Waipa the capital of their new kingdom. Potatau was an old man, more astute than bold, but he had an energetic and intelligent Prime Minister, a descendant of the tribe of those Ngatihahuas who lived in the Auckland isthmus before the foreign occupation. This minister, William Thompson, became the soul of the War of Independence. He skilfully organized Māori troops. Under his inspiration a Taranaki chief united the scattered tribes in common cause; another Waikato chief formed the Land League Association, a real league for the public good, designed to prevent the natives from selling their land to the English Government. Rallies took place, as in the civilized countries, which are preludes to revolution. British newspapers began to pick up these alarming symptoms, and the Government was gravely concerned about the Land League’s actions. In short, spirits were high, the dam ready to burst. All that was missing was the spark, or rather the collision of two interests to produce it.”

“And this spark?” asked Glenarvan.

“It took place in 1860,” said Paganel, “in the province of Taranaki, on the south-west coast of Te Ika-a-Māui. A native owned six hundred acres of land in the vicinity of New Plymouth. He sold them to the English Government. But when surveyors came to measure the purchased land Chief Kingi protested, and in the month of March he erected a pā, defended by high palisades, on the disputed land. A few days later, Colonel Gold removed this camp at the head of his troops, and those were the opening shots of the national war.”

“Are the Māori numerous?” asked John Mangles.

“The Māori population has been greatly reduced in this past century,” said the geographer. “In 1769, Cook estimated it at 400,000. In 1845, the census of the native protectorate lowered it to 109,000. The civilizing massacres, diseases, and fire water have further decimated it, but there are still 90,000 natives in the two islands, 30,000 of whom are warriors who will keep the European troops in check for a long time.”

“Has the revolt succeeded so far?” asked Lady Helena.

“Yes, Madame, and the English themselves have often admired the courage of the New Zealanders. They engage in partisan warfare, fielding skirmishing parties, attacking small detachments, and plundering the fields of the colonists. This was not the sort of campaign, beating the bush for small bands of Māori, that General Cameron wanted to wage. In 1863, after a long and deadly struggle, the Māori occupied a large fortified position on the upper Waikato at the end of a chain of steep hills, and protected by three lines of defence. Prophets called for the entire Māori population to come to the defence of their land and promised the extermination of Pākehā, that is white people. Three thousand men were assembled for the fight under the command of General Cameron, who no longer gave any quarter to the Māori since the barbarous murder of Captain Sprent. Bloody battles took place. Some lasted twelve hours without the Māori yielding to the European canons. It was the fierce tribe of Waikatos, under the command of William Thompson, who formed the nucleus of the independent army. This native general at first commanded 2,500 warriors, and his forces grew to 8,000 when subjects of Shongi and Heki, two formidable leaders, came to his aid. Even the women, in this holy war, took part in the cruelest hardships.

“But the right person does not always have the right weapons. After deadly fighting, General Cameron managed to subdue the Waikato region, but it was an empty and depopulated district, because the Māori escaped him on all sides. There were admirable exploits of war. Four hundred Māori, besieged in the Orakan fortress without food or water by a thousand English troops under the command of Brigadier General Carey, refused to surrender. Then one day, at noon, they made their escape through the decimated 40th regiment, and fled into the marshes.”

“But has this bloody war been ended by the submission of the Waikato district?” asked John Mangles.

“No, my friend,” said Paganel. “The English have resolved to march on the province of Taranaki and to besiege Mataitawa, the fortress of William Thompson. But they will not seize it without considerable losses. At the moment of leaving Paris, I had learned that the Governor and the General had just accepted the submission of the Taranga tribes, and that they left them three quarters of their lands. It was also said that the principal leader of the rebellion, William Thompson, was considering surrender; but the Australian newspapers did not confirm this news; on the contrary. It is therefore probable that at this very moment the resistance is being organized with new vigour.”

“And according to your opinion, Paganel,” said Glenarvan, “this struggle would be in the provinces of Taranaki and Auckland?”

“I think so.”

“That very province where the shipwreck of the Macquarie has taken place?”

“Precisely. We landed a few miles above Kawhia Harbour, where the Māori National Flag must still fly.”

“Then we’d be wise to go north,” said Glenarvan.

“Very wise, indeed,” said Paganel. “New Zealanders are enraged against Europeans, especially against the English. So let’s avoid falling into their hands.”

“Perhaps we will meet some detachment of European troops, if we’re lucky?” said Lady Helena.

“Perhaps, Madame,” said the geographer, “but I do not expect to. Isolated detachments do not readily beat the country, where the slightest bush, the frailest shrub might hide a skilful skirmisher. I do not count on us receiving an escort of soldiers from the 40th regiment. But there are some missions established on the west coast that we will follow, and we can move in stages from one to another until we reach Auckland. We might also try following the route which Dr. von Hochstetter followed while tracing the course of the Waikato.”

“Was he an explorer, Monsieur Paganel?” asked Robert Grant.

“Yes, my boy, a member of the scientific commission aboard the Austrian frigate La Novara during her circumnavigation voyage in 1858.”

“Monsieur Paganel,” continued Robert, whose eyes glittered at the thought of great geographical expeditions. “Does New Zealand have famous explorers like Burke and Stuart in Australia?”

“Some, my child, such as Dr. Hooker, Professor Brizard, naturalists Dieffenbach and Julius Haast; but, though many of them have paid for their adventurous passion, they are less famous than Australian or African travellers.”

“And you know their stories?” asked the young Grant.

“Parbleu, my boy! I see you want to know as much as I do, so I’ll tell you.”

“Thank you, Monsieur Paganel. I am listening to you.”

“And we too, are listening to you,” said Lady Helena. “This is not the first time that bad weather has forced us to learn. Tell us all, Monsieur Paganel.”

“As you wish, Madame,” replied the geographer, “but my story will not be long. It is not a matter of those bold explorers who were fighting hand-to-hand with the Australian Minotaur, here. New Zealand is too small a country to defend itself against human investigations. So my heroes have not been explorers, strictly speaking, but simple tourists — victims of the most prosaic accidents.”

“And their names?” asked Mary Grant.

“The surveyor Witcombe, and Charlton Howitt, the same man who found the remains of Burke,fn5 of that memorable expedition that I told you about during our stop on the banks of the Wimmera. Witcombe and Howitt each commanded two explorations on the island of Te Waipounamu. Both of them left Christchurch in the early months of 1863 to discover different passes through the northern mountains of the province of Canterbury.

“Howitt, crossing the chain on the northern limit of the province, established his headquarters on Brunner Lake. Witcombe, on the other hand, found a pass in the Rakaia Valley which led to the east of Mount Tyndall. Witcombe had a travelling companion, Jacob Louper, who published his tale of travel and disaster in the Lyttleton Times.

“As far as I remember, on April 22nd, 1863, the two explorers were at the foot of a glacier where the Rakaia River has its source. They climbed to the summit of the mountain, and engaged in a search for a new pass. The next day, Witcombe and Louper — exhausted with fatigue and cold — camped in heavy snow at four thousand feet above sea level. For seven days they wandered in the mountains, at the bottoms of valleys whose sheer walls delivered no way out. Often without fire, sometimes without food: their sugar changed into syrup, their biscuit reduced to a damp paste. Their clothes and their blankets dripping with rain, devoured by insects, they made three miles on good days, and on bad days scarcely gained two hundred yards. Finally, on the 29th of April, they found a Māori hut, and a few handfuls of potatoes in its garden. This was the last meal the two friends shared together.

Jacob Louper remained clinging to the boat

“In the evening they reached the shore of the sea near the mouth of Taramakau. They had to cross to its right bank, in order to go north toward the Gray river. The Taramakau was deep and wide. Louper, after an hour’s search, found two small damaged boats which they repaired as best they could and fixed to each other. The two explorers embarked toward evening, but in the middle of the current, the canoes filled with water. Witcombe swam back to the left bank. Jacob Louper, who could not swim, remained clinging to the boats. This was what saved him, but not without many hardships. The unfortunate man was pushed toward the breakers. A first wave plunged him to the bottom of the sea. A second brought him back to the surface. He was struck against the rocks. The darkest night had come. The rain was falling in torrents. Louper, his body bloody and swollen with sea water, was buffeted by the waves for several hours. At length the canoe struck the mainland, and the castaway, deprived of his senses, was thrown back on the shore.

“The next day, at dawn, he dragged himself to a spring, and discovered that the current had brought him back to within a mile of where he had started in his attempt to cross the river. He got up, followed the coast, and soon found the unfortunate Witcombe, his body half buried, face down in the mud. He was dead. With just his hands Louper dug a pit in the middle of the sands and buried the body of his companion. Two days later, he was dying of hunger when he was found by some friendly Māori — there are some — and on May 4th he reached Charlton Howitt’s camp at Lake Brunner. Six weeks later, Howitt was going to perish himself, like the ill-fated Witcombe.”

“It seems that these catastrophes are tied together,” said John Mangles. “That a fatal chain unites the explorers, and that they all perish when a centre link breaks.”

“You are right, friend John,” said Paganel, “and I have often made this remark. By what law of solidarity was Howitt led to succumb in almost the same circumstances? It can not be said. Charlton Howitt had been hired by Mr. Wyde, the head of Government, to survey a horse-friendly road from the Hurunui plains to the mouth of Taramakau. He left on the 1st of January 1863, accompanied by five men. He carried out his mission with incomparable intelligence, and a road forty miles long was pierced to an unfordable point of Taramakau. Howitt then returned to Christchurch and, in spite of the approaching winter, he asked to continue his work. Mr. Wyde consented. Howitt went back to supply his camp for the bad season. It was at this time that he met Jacob Louper. On June 27th, Howitt and two of his men, Robert Little and Henri Mullis, left the camp. They crossed Lake Brunner. They have never been seen since. Their swamped canoe was found stranded on the shore. A search for them went on for nine weeks, but to no avail, and it is evident that those wretches, who could not swim, drowned in the waters of the lake.”

“But why shouldn’t they be safe and sound among some Māori tribe?” asked Lady Helena. “Isn’t there at least some hope that they have lived?”

“Alas! No, Madame,” said Paganel. “A year after the catastrophe, in August of 1864, they had not reappeared.” He went on in a low murmur “And when one has been missing for a year in New Zealand, one is irrevocably lost!”

fn1. The Hetzel edition has the signing of the Treaty of Waitangi take place on January 5th, which is contradicted both by history, and the date given in the previous paragraph. The interpretation of this treaty has been, and continues to be, a major bone of contention between the Māori, and the European settlers of New Zealand as the treaty was bilingual with copies written in both English and Māori, and the two versions don’t always say the same thing. — DAS

fn2. Verne has the Māori giving up all their property rights, which wasn’t the case (in either the English or Māori versions) though the interpretation of the clause on just who the Māori could sell to would become a major sticking point later. — DAS

fn3. Vercingetorix was a Gallic king who united the Gauls in a revolt against Roman rule in the first century BC. — DAS

fn4. Wiremu_Tamihana, anglicized as “William Thompson”, was more the diplomat and publicist of the Māori King Movement than it’s military leader. Throughout the conflict he continued to attempt to come to a negotiated settlement with the English. The military leader was Rewi Maniapoto. — DAS

fn5. Paganel is mistaken here. Charlton Howitt was the brother of Alfred Howitt, who found the remains of the Burke and Wills expedition. — DAS