did, a considerable difficulty arose, for, on going
down to the beach, the boat was missing. This
occasioned much astonishment, but after many
surmises and suggestions it was at length
resolved that the boat had not been hauled beyond
high-water mark, and consequently that the tide
had carried it off. (This conclusion we afterwards
found cause to alter, as will be seen.)
However, time pressed, and we resolved to take
Mitlington's boat and search along the coast for
our missing property. After rowing for some
distance, we were about to desist for the night,
when we caught sight of the "waif" lying on
the beach in such a position that it might either
have been stranded by the waves, or placed
there by human agency. The latter appeared
the more probable, for, as we landed, a perfect
chorus of yells saluted our ears, and looking
round, we were disagreeably surprised to see
a troop of at least fifty Maories appear from
behind the rocks, and bear down upon us.
Their leader was a fine stalwart man, standing
above six feet high, and magnificently proportioned,
as most of the New Zealand natives
are. Turning to his band, he motioned them
to stop, and then with a haughty step he
advanced to me, saying, in the Maori language,
"White man, the Maori rangatira (chief) claims
that boat."

Understanding the language, and having some
slight acquaintance with the Maori customs, I
was able to answer him, and I said:
"The white man made it. It is his."
I should explain here that oratory is held in
high estimation among the Maories, and that
nothing pleases a rangatira more than to have an
opportunity of displaying his eloquence. In the
most approved style the chief resumed the
discussion as follows:

"You see the rangatira. He is great. He
has many servants. The sun comes from the
waters to give him light. The trees grow to
give him fruit. When he would eat, the fishes
come quick to his hook. When he would
fight, his enemies come to be killed. The great
waters are afraid of him. They wish to make
peace. They bring him a boat. He is pleased.
He keeps it."

Now, no doubt this speech-making was very
convincing to his followers, but I didn't view
the subject in the same light, so I replied: "The
white man takes it," and, putting my shoulder
to the boat, I commenced, with the help of my
men, to launch it. The launching did not proceed
very far, as in another moment I was
quietly lying on my back, having been tossed
clean over the boat by the orator's sinewy arm.
This was a sort of thing I had never been
accustomed to, and, therefore, disregarding the
dictates of prudence, I jumped up, "squared"
at the chief, and succeeded in planting one
straight from the shoulder, which "floored"
him.

The result was, of course, our seizure by
the infuriated natives; but as they had, even
at that time, learned to respect our government,
they refrained from doing us any bodily harm,
but led us up to the English commissioner, who
was living on the outskirts of the province,
for the purpose of settling all disputes with
the natives. He was simply supported by
moral force—no great support there— and so
the Maori views of law were often, in the
ascendant.

A rude court was formed in front of his hut.
An arm-chair which had been brought from
Auckland, and which the Maories regarded with
great awe, was placed for the commissioner. At
a short distance in front of this arm-chair stood
my accuser and myself, while on every side
appeared a threatening array of natives, who had
gathered together in great numbers when they
heard of the occurrence.

The proceedings commenced by the commissioner
calling upon the injured chieftain to
state his complaint. Expecting to hear some
claim made to the boat, I was quite taken aback
when he spoke thus:

"The Maories cry for vengeance. The rangatira
is holy. In war, in peace, the man that
strikes the rangatira dies. The great fathers
of the Maories have said so. Do I speak
well?"

This question met with a grave and dignified
assent from the old men of the tribe who stood
in the front of the circle. Thus encouraged,
he proceeded:

"I stood by the great waters. I looked up.
The birds flew fast away. They feared to share
the air which the rangatira breathed. I looked
down. The waves drew back. The shore was
the rangatira's. He trod there. I looked on
the land. The trees, the men, bent down. I
looked on the great waters. They were troubled
at my look. They hastened, they brought an
offering to the rangatira. It was a boat. They
laid it at my feet. I took it. The white man
comes to take it. He lifts his hand. He strikes
the rangatira. The birds, the air, the waves,
the shore, the trees, the men, and the great
waters, saw it done. They shake. They are
afraid. They say, 'He strikes the holy rangatira,
he must die.' I have finished."

Never shall I forget the burst of applause
which rang through the air when the chief's
speech was concluded. Even the old men were
unable to restrain themselves, and exclaimed,
"It is good. He must die." But it was only
for a moment that the Maories allowed themselves
to appear excited, and when the first
fierce shout was ended, a dead silence reigned,
rendered all the more striking and impressive
from the contrast.

It was broken by the commissioner, who,
addressing me, asked, "Is it true. Have you
struck the rangatira?"

"I have," was my answer.

"Then," said he,' "I cannot save you. You
have broken the law of the Maories. You must
appeal to them."

Already was I seized. Although of considerably
more than average strength, I was
motionless as a statue in the grasp of four
athletic natives, two on each side. The accusing