Polynesian Mythology · Legend of the Emigration of Turi (1/2)

Legend of the Emigration of Turi

The Progenitor of the Whanganui Tribes

The following narrative shows the cause which led Turi, the ancestor of the Whanganui tribes, to emigrate to New Zealand, and the manner in which he reached these islands.

Hoimatua, a near relation of Turi, had a little boy named Pōtikiroroa. This young fellow was sent one day with a message to Uenuku, who was an ariki, or chief high priest, to let him know that a burnt offering had been made to the gods, of which Uenuku, as ariki, was to eat part, and the little fellow accidentally tripped and fell down in the very doorway of Wharekura, the house of Uenuku, and this being a most unlucky omen, Uenuku was dreadfully irritated, and he laid hold of the little fellow and ate him up, without even having the body cooked, and so the poor boy perished.

Turi was determined to have revenge for this barbarous act, and to slay some person as a payment for little Pōtikiroroa, and after casting about in his thoughts for some time as to the most effectual mode of doing this, he saw that his best way of revenging himself would be to seize Hawepōtiki, the little son of Uenuku, and kill him.

One day Turi, in order to entice the boy to his house, ordered the children of all the people who dwelt there with him to begin playing together, in a place where Hawepōtiki could see them; so they began whipping their tops, and whirling their whizgigs, but it was of no use; the little fellow could not be tempted to come and play with them, and that plan failed.

At last summer came with its heats, scorching men’s skins; and Turi, one very hot day, ordered all the little children to run and bathe in the river Waimātuhirangi; so they all ran to the river and began sporting and playing in the water. When little Hawepōtiki saw all the other lads swimming and playing in the river, he was thrown off his guard and ran there too, and Turi waylaid him and killed him in a moment, and thus revenged the death of Pōtikiroroa.

After killing the poor boy, Turi cut the heart out of his body, himself and his friends eat the body; but when, shortly afterwards, a chieftainess named Hotukura, sent up a present of baskets of food to their sacred prince to Uenuku, carried in the usual way by a long procession of people, some of Turi’s friends pushed into the basket of baked sweet potatoes prepared for Uenuku the heart of Te Hawepōtiki, cut up and baked too, and so it was carried up to Uenuku in the basket, and laid before him that he might eat it.

Uenuku, who had missed his little boy, being still unable to ascertain what had become of him, could not help sighing when he saw such an excellent feast, and said, “Poor little Hawepōtiki, how he would have liked this, but he now no longer comes running to sit by my side at mealtime;” and then he himself ate the food that was laid before him. He had hardly, however, ended his meal when one of his friends who had found what had been done, came and told him, saying, “They have made you eat a part of Hawepōtiki.” And he answered, “Very well, let it be; he lies in the belly of Toitehuatahi;” meaning by this proverb that he would have a fearful revenge; but he showed no other signs of feeling, that he might not gratify his enemies by manifesting his sorrow, or alarm them by loud threats of revenge.

At this time Turi was living in a house, the name of which was Rangiātea, and there were born two of his children, Tūrangaimua and Tāneroroa. One evening, shortly after the death of Te Hawepōtiki, Rongorongo, Turi’s wife, went out of the house to suckle her little girl, Tāneroroa, and she heard Uenuku in his house, named Wharekura, chanting a poem, of which this was the burden:⁠—

“Oh! let the tribes be summoned from the south,

Oh! let the tribes be summoned from the north;

Let Ngāti Ruanui come in force;

Let Ngāti Rongotea’s warriors too be there,

That we may all our foes destroy,

And sweep them utterly away.

Oh, they ate one far nobler than themselves.”

When Rongorongo heard what Uenuku was chanting, she went back to her house and said to her husband, “Turi, I have just heard them chanting this poem in Wharekura.” And Turi answered, “What poem do you say it was?” Then she hummed it gently over to her husband, and Turi at once divined the meaning of it,23 and said to his wife, “That poem is meant for me;” and he knew this well, because, as he had killed the child of Uenuku, he guessed that they meant to slay him as a payment for the boy, and that the lament his wife had heard evinced that they were secretly laying their plans of revenge.

He, therefore, at once started off to his father-in-law, Toto, to get a canoe from him, in which he might escape from his enemies; and Toto gave him one, the name of which was Aotea; the tree from which it had been made grew upon the banks of the Lake Waiharakeke. Toto had first hewn down the tree, and then split it, breaking it lengthways into two parts; out of one part of the tree he made a canoe, which he named Matahorua, and out of the other part he made a canoe which he named Aotea. He gave the canoe which he had named Aotea he made a present of to Rongorongo; thus giving a canoe to each of his two daughters. Matahorua was the canoe in which a large part of the world was explored, and Reti was the name of the man who navigated it.

One day Kupe and Hoturapa went out upon the sea to fish together; and when they had anchored the canoe at a convenient place, Kupe let down his line into the sea; and he said to his cousin, Hoturapa, “Hotu’, my line is foul of something; do you, like a good young fellow, dive down and release it for me.” But Hoturapa said, “Just give me your line, and let me see if I cannot pull it up for you.” But Kupe answered, “It’s of no use, you cannot do it; you had better give a plunge in at once, and pull it up.” This was a mere stratagem upon the part of Kupe, that he might obtain possession of Kuramārōtini, who was Hoturapa’s wife. However, Hoturapa, not suspecting this, good-naturedly dived down at once to bring up Kupe’s line; and as soon as he had made his plunge, Kupe at once cut the rope which was attached to the anchor, and paddled off for the shore as fast as he could go, to carry off Hoturapa’s wife, Kuramārōtini. When Hoturapa came up to the surface of the water, the canoe was already a long distance from him, and he cried out to Kupe, “Oh, Kupe, bring the canoe back here to take me in.” But Kupe would not listen to him; he brought not back the canoe, and so Hoturapa perished. Kupe then made haste and carried off Kuramārōtini, and to escape from the vengeance of the relations of Hoturapa he fled away with her on the ocean, in her canoe Matahorua, and discovered the islands of New Zealand, and coasted entirely round them without finding any inhabitants.

As Kupe was proceeding down the east coast of New Zealand, and had reached Castle Point, a great cuttlefish, alarmed at the sight of a canoe with me in it, fled away from a large cavern which exists in the south headland of the cove there; it fled before Kupe, in the direction of Raukawa, or Cook’s Straits. When Kupe arrived at these straits, he crossed them in his canoe, to examine the middle islands. Seeing the entrance of Awaiti (now called Tory Channel) running deep up into the land, he turned his canoe in there to explore it. He found a very strong current coming out from between the lands, and named the entrance Kurateau. Strong as the current was, Kupe stemmed it in his canoe, and ascended it until he was just surmounting the crown of the rapid. The great cuttlefish, or dragon, that had fled from Castle Point, which Kupe named Te Wheke-a-Muturangi, or the cuttlefish of Muturangi, had fled to Tory Channel, and was lying hid in this part of the current. The monster heard the canoe of Kupe approaching as they were pulling up the current, and raised its arms above the waters to catch and devour the canoe, men and all. As it thus floated upon the water, Kupe saw it, and pondered how he might destroy the terrible monster. At last he thought of a plan for doing this. He had already found that, although he kept on chopping off portions of its gigantic arms, furnished with suckers, as it tried to fold them about the canoe, in order to pull it down, the monster was too fierce to care for this; so Kupe seized an immense hollow calabash he had on board to carry his water in, and threw it overboard. Hardly had it touched the water ere the monster flew at it, thinking that it was the canoe of Kupe, and that he would destroy it; so it reared its whole body out of the water, to press down the huge calabash under it; and Kupe, as he stood in his canoe, being in a most excellent position to cut it with his axe, seized the opportunity, and striking it a tremendous blow, he severed it in two, and killed it.24

The labours of Kupe consisted in this, that he discovered these islands, and examined the different openings which he found running up into the country. He only found two inhabitants in the country⁠—a bird which he named the Kōkako, and another bird which he named the Tīwaiwaka. He, however, did not ultimately remain in these islands, but returned to his own house, leaving the openings he had examined in the country as signs that he had been here.

Thus he left his marks here, but he himself returned to his own country, where he found Turi and all his people still dwelling, although it was now the fourth year from that one in which he had slain little Hawepōtiki; but Turi was then on the point of flying to escape from the vengeance of Uenuku, and as he heard of the discoveries Kupe had made, he determined to come to these islands. So he had his canoe, the Aotea, dragged down to the shore in the night; and Kupe, who happened to be near the place, and heard the bottom of the canoe grating upon the beach as they hauled it along, went to see what was going on; and when he found what Turi was about to do, he said to him, “Now, mind, Turi, keep ever steering to the eastward, where the sun rises; keep the bow of your canoe ever steadily directed towards that point of the sky.” Turi answered him, “You had better accompany me, Kupe. Come, let us go together.” And when Kupe heard this, he said to Turi, “Do you think that Kupe will ever return there again?” and he then continued, “When you arrive at the islands, you had better go at once and examine the river that I discovered (said to be the Pātea); its mouth opens direct to the westward. You will find but two inhabitants there (meaning the Kōkako and Tīwaiwaka); one of them carries its tail erect and sticking out. Now do not mistake the voice of one of them for that of a man, for it calls out just like one; and if you stand on one side of the river, and call out to them, you will hear their cries answering you from the other. That will be the very spot that I mentioned to you.”25

Turi’s brother-in-law, Tuau, now called out to him, “Why, Turi, the paddles you are taking with you are good for nothing, for they are made from the huhoe tree.” Turi replied, “Wherever can I get other paddles now?” and Tuau answered, “Just wait a little, until I run for the paddles of Taipāraeroa;” and he brought back, and put on board the canoe, two paddles, the names of which were Rangihorona and Kautukiterangi, and two bailers, the names of which were Tipuahoronuku and Rangikawheriko. Then Turi said, “Tuau, come out a little way to sea with me, and then return again, when you have seen me fairly started upon my long voyage.” To this Tuau cheerfully consented, and got into the canoe, which was already afloat. Then were carried on board all the articles which the voyagers were to take; and their friends out on board for them, seed, sweet potatoes, of the species called Te Kakau, and dried stones of the berries of the karaka tree; and some live edible rats in boxes, and some tame green parrots; and added some pet Pūkeko, or large waterhens; and many other valuable things were put on board the canoe, whence the proverb, “The Aotea’s valuable freight.”

At last away floated the canoe, whilst it was yet night, and Tuau sat at the stern, gently paddling as they dropped out from the harbour; but when they got to its mouth, Turi called out to his brother-in-law, “Tuau, you come and sit for a little at the house amidships, on the floor of the double canoe, and let me take the paddle and pull till I warm myself.” So Tuau came amidships, and sat down with the people there, whilst Turi went astern and took his paddle. Then Turi and his people pulled as hard as they could, and were soon far outside the harbour in the wide sea. Tuau, who had intended to land at the heads, at last turned to see what distance they had got. Alas! alas! they were far out at sea. Then he called out to Turi, “Oh, Turi, Turi, pray turn back the canoe and land me.” But not the least attention did Turi pay to him; he persisted in carrying off his brother-in-law with him, although there was Tuau weeping and grieving when he thought of his children and wife, and lamenting as he exclaimed, “How shall I ever get back to my dear wife and children from the place where you are going to!” But what does Turi care for that; he still thinks fit to carry him off with him, and Tuau cannot now help himself. They were now so far out at sea that he could not gain the shore, for he could scarcely have seen where the land was whilst swimming in the water, as it was during the night time that they started.

Lo! the dawn breaks; but hardly had the daylight of the first morning of their voyage appeared than one of the party, named Tapo, became insolent and disobedient to Turi. His chief was therefore very wroth with him, and hove him overboard into the sea; and when Tapo found himself in the water, and saw the canoe shooting ahead, he called out to Turi quite cheerfully and jocosely, “I say, old fellow, come now, let me live in the world a little longer.” And when they heard him call out in this manner, they knew he must be under the protection of the god Maru, and said, “Here is Maru, here is Maru.” So they hauled him into the canoe again and saved his life.

At last the seams of Turi’s canoe opened in holes in many places, and the water streamed into it, and they rapidly dipped the bailers into the water and dashed it out over the sides; Turi, in the meanwhile, reciting aloud an incantation, which was efficacious in preventing a canoe from being swamped. They succeeded at length, by these means, in reaching a small island which lies in mid-ocean, which they named Rangitahua. There they landed, and ripped all the old lashings out of the seams of the canoe, and re-lashed the top sides on to it, and thoroughly refitted it.