Go to National Library of New Zealand Te Puna Mātauranga o Aotearoa
Volume 40, 1907
This text is also available in PDF
(2 MB) Opens in new window
– 158 –

The Price of the Guns.

Once the deadly effect of the new weapon had been realised, the possession of a sufficient number of muskets became absolutely necessary for the existence of a tribe, and the whole country—from the northern peninsula to Cook Strait—became engaged in a frantic struggle to obtain the wherewithal to purchase a supply. Dressed flax (Phormium tenax) was the only article of sufficient value to offer in exchange. A ton of this material fetched £120 in the Sydney market, and a ton was the price of a gun worth perhaps half that number of shillings. In order to waste no time, and to be near their work, the Maoris deserted the high and airy situations of the pas, and lived in makeshift whares on

– 159 –

the low swampy grounds where the raw material was to be found; and here, their cultivations neglected, overworked and half-starved, men, women, and children toiled night and day for months together—spurred by the penalty of death—scraping the flax-leaves strip by strip with a sharp shell. The mortality, as might be expected, was appalling. Men and women sickened and died, and few children were reared. In fact, the entire race was put to a strain from which it has never recovered.*

The flax was gathered up by traders from Sydney, who cruised round the coast in smart schooners, fitted with boarding-nettings, and carrying an armed crew. Their logs were not generally published, but many stories are told of the inhuman atrocities they committed in their intercourse with the Natives. Every skipper was a law unto himself, and he settled the “Native difficulty” in his own way as he went along.

One of the heaviest prices paid for the guns—and, in its far-reaching effects, one of the principal causes of the decay of the Maoris—was the institution known as that of the “shipgirls.” From the time of Captain Cook, the unmarried women were always very free in their intercourse with the ship's companies, and as the visits of vessels became more numerous this intercourse took the form of an organized trade. About the beginning of the last century the Sydney whalers commenced to come to the New Zealand waters, and by the third decade they appeared in considerable numbers, as many as thirty-five large ships sometimes lying together off the beach at Kororareka, in the Bay of Islands, where about a thousands white people—escaped convicts, ticket-of-leave men, runaway sailors, and other adventurers—were congregated. The ships usually remained in harbour for several months every summer, victualling, refitting, &c., and during this time it was not uncommon for the captain to take a temporary wife, while a number of girls lived more or less promiscuously with the sailors and with the people on the shore.

Owing to the number killed in battle during Hongi's wars the women greatly outnumbered the men. Every year, at the commencement of the “season,” the chiefs would muster the young widows and girls in the various outlying settlements, and convey them in parties to the Bay of Islands, when they were regularly farmed out, the district of Hokianga alone contributing some two hundred. For several months these future mothers of the race lived in the wildest debauch, the proceeds of the trade being chiefly spent in the purchase of guns and ammunition. Arms had to be got, whatever might be the cost.

[Footnote] * Cf. “Old New Zealand,” Chap. xiii.

– 160 –

Though Kororareka bore such an infamous reputation as to merit the title of the “Alsatia of the Pacific,” the place was not singular in this inhuman abuse. Wherever a ship put in, the same game went on to a greater or less degree. At Hokianga when a ship came for a load of the kauri spars for which this port was noted, she would fire a salute as she sailed up the river, and by the time the anchor was dropped the canoes would be seen paddling down from the tributary streams filled with an excited crowd of men and women, the former to help to load the vessel and the latter to live with the sailors while the work was going on.

Long after the festive days of Kororareka and Hokianga were a thing of the past the traffic lingered on in the timber districts, and even the bushman on the tramp would have considered himself inhospitably treated if on arrival at a Maori settlement a young girl were not allotted to him, along with free lodgings and the best food the village could afford.