Such is our show-place, the "Sacred Soil," where sleep the departed warriors of the Ngatewhatua. The bell-bird and the tui sing a requiem over them by day, while the morepork and the kiwi wail for them at night. And the wonderful loveliness of this spot, where they fought and died, might well inspire a Tennyson to pen another "Locksley Hall."
"Jee--roosalem!" sighed Dandy Jack. "Only put _that_ on canvas, and hang it in Burlington House, and what an advertisement it would be for us!"
Old Colonial goes on to tell the tale of Te Puke Tapu, in the intervals of hauling up schnapper. He says--
"The boys call it 'The Burying Ground,' because of the bones and skulls that are lying about or stuck up in the trees. That's rather misleading, though, for it was never a wahi tapu, or native cemetery. This bay was evidently the landing-place or port for Marahemo, and the subordinate kaingas on the ranges yonder. You can see it was naturally that. As such there would be constant traffic through it, even if there were no wharès in the place itself. Now a wahi tapu was so sacred that no one but a tohunga dared to approach its boundaries, even under pain of death and damnation; so that such a place was always in some very out-of-the-way locality, certainly never near a spot so much frequented as this would be.
"It's tapu enough now, though, and has been ever since the battle, which, I opine, must have been fought somewhere about 1825. The chiefs won't sell an inch of this piece to any one; and not a Maori dares go near it. Lots of people have tried to buy it, and have even offered as much as five pounds an acre for its magnificent soil; but the Maoris are not to be tempted, and, what's more, say they'll have utu from any Pakeha that goes into it.
"Once, some years ago, I was out pig-hunting, and killed a big one just on the top of that scaur. The carcase rolled down into the water, and the tide carried it away down river. It was washed up at Tama-te-Whiti's place, six miles below this. Now Tama, although he's an ordained parson, still retains most of the old superstitions, as all the older Maoris do. He was in a terrible stew when this pig, killed on tapu ground, and consequently tapu itself, stranded on his beach. His wife and he came out with long poles and pushed it into the water. Then they got into their boat, and managed to get the pig out into the channel and set it floating off again. Afterwards they carefully burnt the poles that had touched the dreadful thing. Finally, Tama came up to me and demanded utu, which I had to pay him. If we had not been such good friends, and if Tama had not been more sensible than the other Maoris, I believe the district would have been too hot to hold me.