enced a career of warfare and
destruction on all his enemies, and nearly exterminated them. His friends
called him "a god," and his enemies feared him as "a devil." Last year,
Hongi made war upon, and totally annihilated, the tribe who had fifteen
years previously attacked and murdered the crew of the Boyd. He had long
determined to take revenge for that treacherous action, as he always
styled himself "the friend of the English." After this, he removed his
residence, and took possession of the conquered district. But in this his
last battle he had to fight without his invulnerable coat of mail, his
slaves having stolen it and gone over with it to the enemy. His people
were now confirmed in their superstition respecting its being proof
against shot, by his having received during the combat a bullet in the
breast, from the effects of which he is fast sinking into the grave. His
companions related the following extraordinary anecdote concerning him
after he received this wound, which proves his great presence of mind.

His party were retreating, and the enemy were charging him vigorously;
Hongi stood alone when he received the bullet; he did not fall
immediately, and the enemy were eagerly running up to despatch him, when
he roused all his energies, and shouted aloud for the two hundred chiefs,
who lay concealed, to rush forward and fall on. The foe, hearing this,
paused, when about a dozen chiefs, and indeed, as Hongi well knew, all
that he had, suddenly made their appearance. This caused a panic; they
turned about; the pursued became the pursuers, and nearly the whole tribe
were destroyed.

CHAPTER XVI.

INTERVIEW WITH THE GREAT MAORI CONQUEROR.

He landed about a mile from the village, and we lost no time in procuring
an interpreter, with whom we went instantly to pay our respects to this
celebrated conqueror.

We found him and his party; his slaves preparing their morning repast.
The scene altogether was highly interesting. In a beautiful bay,
surrounded by high rocks and overhanging trees, the chiefs sat in mute
contemplation, their arms piled up in regular order on the beach. Hongi,
not only from his high rank (but in consequence of his wound being
toboo'd, or rendered holy), sat apart from the rest. Their richly
ornamented war canoes were drawn up on the strand; some of the slaves
were unlading stores, others were kindling fires. To me it almost seemed
to realise some of the passages of Homer, where he