Maori Tales/Rata and the Fairy Canoe

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“Listen to me, Rata,” said his mother, “and I will tell you how your father met with his death. It was in the winter season, when the tui is timid, that he sailed away to an island where that bird was to be found in great numbers; but the island belonged to an evil enchanter called Matuku, who caught and killed your father.”

“Was Matuku punished?” asked Rata.

“Who would dare punish him?” said his mother; “for he is a fierce man, dwelling with those sea-sprites called Pona-turi, who also are fierce, and many in number. The way to the island is also full of danger, for the sea, the home of monsters and evil beings, must first be crossed.”

“But if my father dared venture to obtain birds, surely there were men brave enough to venture to punish Matuku?”

“Yet they never ventured. You are still young, or you would understand that the ​perils are so great that no man need be ashamed to fear them.”

“Was my father then the bravest of them all?”

“No one was his equal in daring,” said his mother; “and you are his son.”

“And I feel as if I myself must go to punish this Matuku:—in what direction does the island lie?”

“It lies towards the place where the sun rises from the sea;—but how can you venture who have no canoe?—or how can you succeed when you are so young?”

“A canoe can be built, and a young man can be a warrior.”

“That is true; but you have no axe with which to fell the tree and shape the canoe.”

“I shall go to my relative Kahue, who can make such axes. I shall tell him my reasons, and he will not refuse me.”

Rata set out on his journey, traversing a wide plain, and after some days he reached the home of Kahue, who at once promised to help him. From a large block of stone he hewed a piece, roughly fashioned it, and lashed it to a handle. Rata was pleased ​to have the axe, but said as he took it, “It has no edge; it is quite blunt.”

“That is true,” said Kahue; “but when you reach your home, go to your relative Hine-hoanga, and say to her, ‘Kahue gave me this axe, and bids you sharpen it for me so that I may cut down a tree and build a canoe.’”

Rata did as he was bidden, and Hine bent down, saying, “Lay the edge of the axe on my back, Rata.”

He did so, and at once he heard the sound of words that seemed to say kia-koa, kia-koa, kia-koa, which means Be sharp, be sharp, be sharp. These are the very words the hone says to the scythe when it is used by the mower; and when Rata lifted the axe from the back of Hine, he found that its edge was keen.

He was delighted; and thanking his relative he went off to his mother. Showing her the axe, he said,

“Now it only remains to find a tree; and already in fancy I see the canoe filled with eager warriors sailing on the flashing water-road.”

​The heart of the mother was glad when she saw the boldness of the father again living in the son, and she described to Rata a valley where, in the bush close to the sea, a high totara grew. You would suppose that it would be no easy matter for a great tree to be felled with a stone axe; but the father of Rata was a hero, and the son of a hero is able to do what other men cannot do. Standing beside the tree, Rata made four cuts at it; and although the trunk could hardly be encircled by three men joining hands, at the fifth blow the tree fell. With as great ease he lopped the top and the branches; and the day being almost over, he turned homewards, intending to return next day to shape the canoe.

“Did you find the tree?” asked his mother.

“Yes,” said Rata; “I have cut it down, and to-morrow I shall shape the canoe.”

Off he went next morning; but coming to the place where the log lay, he looked for it in vain; there was no log to be seen. Had he come to the wrong valley?—No; he remembered this tree and that tree;—and there before him, too, stood the very ​

​tree he thought he had cut down. It was growing as before; not a cut on its thick ragged bark, and not a chip or broken branch on the ground.

He thought he must have dreamt of cutting it down; so taking his axe, again he made four blows, and at the fifth the tree fell. He lopped the top and branches, and went home as before.

He told his mother how he had found the tree growing which he thought he had cut down;—“Either there is magic,” said he, “or I dreamed of felling the tree.”

“Then you must have slept like an idle young man,” said his mother; “for you were away the whole day.”

“I am sure I did not sleep the whole day,” said he.

He set out in the morning, wondering if the log would be where he left it, or if it would all prove a dream as before. As he walked beneath the great ferns, and along beautiful groves of nikau-palms, he saw a flock of whiteheads, fluttering along, and singing a noisy chattering song. He remembered that it was unlucky to be watched by this bird; he also remembered that whilst ​he was chopping the tree flocks of them had appeared, whistling away, and had noisily left again after seeing what he was doing. Had they told Tane, lord of the forests, that one of his trees was being destroyed?

Rata hurried on; and on reaching the valley he was first surprised, then angry, to see that the tree again stood upright. He looked up the rough trunk, and noticed that the bark appeared broken here and there as if with the cut of an axe: and the bark on trees now growing appears cut in the same way.

“It may have been cut down by others, too,” thought he, “and those are the marks of their axes”; but again he grew angry at the thought of all his wasted labour.

Again he cut down the tree; and a thought struck him;—he would pretend to go away, but would return and hide in the bushes, so that he might see if any man came after he left.

He did so; and lying under a thicket of prickly-leafed bush-lawyer, he waited. The sun was sinking, the birds were beginning their evening song, and he felt a soft wind blowing under the trees, nodding the delicate ​little ferns around him, and slowly waving the large upright fronds of the silver tree-fern. Then he heard a humming, a murmuring, as if the voice of the wind were whispering; but he could not say if the voice came from the right or from the left. The voice swelled and became gentle voices; they were not so shrill as bird-song, but sweeter; not so loud as the bubbling of streams or the murmur of distant waterfalls, but as clearly heard;—and he could not say if the voices came from behind him, or from before. The voices came nearer and nearer;—then suddenly he saw a flock of little creatures hovering in the air over the log of the tree. He did not see them come, yet suddenly they were there. They were not human beings, though they sang, nor birds, though they flew. These were the words of their song, hardly louder than the humming of insects, yet perfectly clear:

​A wonder!—the log moved, the branches moved, the chips moved; each found its place, and Rata saw the tree slowly rising and standing again where it stood before.

At first he could not move for surprise; but soon in anger he sprang to his feet;—and rushing from his hiding-place he seized some of the little creatures as they flew round and round the tree.

“How dare you touch the tree that Rata has felled?”

They were afraid, and answered—“You cut down the tree, it is true; but the tree belongs to Tane, the guardian of the forests, and he has set us to watch his trees and protect them from injury, for they are his children.”

“It is true,” said Rata, letting them go; “Tane was right to send you, and I was wrong to be angry. I shall make offerings to Tane, so that I may be allowed to fell a tree for a canoe”: and he told them the reasons for his wishing to do so.

“If you do that,” said the litle creatures, “all will be well.” They fluttered away, leaving Rata alone in the forest.

​He looked at the great tree, and thought of what the little guardians had said. He also noticed that the tops of the young supplejacks were bent over, hanging loosely downwards; the fronds of the ponga and other great tree-ferns were drooping; the long leaves of the toe-toe growing here and there, instead of growing upright as before now bent their tips quite close to the ground. These plants, seeing Rata rush out and seize the flying creatures, had bent in fear;—and they still bend, as if the memory of that day had not passed away.

Rata returned to his home, and told his mother of the strange things that had happened. He made offerings to Tane; and all that was required of him was that he should lay the frond of a certain fern on the stump of the felled tree.

Off went Rata, cheerfully prepared to cut down the tree and make it ready for his canoe; but when he reached the valley, he saw a greater wonder than ever. The tree no longer stood where he had left it; but beside the stump lay a canoe, already hewn out, carved, and beautifully finished, ready to float on the water and carry many warriors.

​Joyfully Rata called his men together, and with cheery songs they cut a path and hauled the canoe to the sea.

In a few days they were ready, and crossed to the island where Matuku lived. An ogre called Pou also lived there, and he protected Matuku against his enemies.

The frends of Rata had been brave enough when they left home; but as they neared the island they began to think of the many dreadful things they had heard of Matuku and Pou, and felt afraid. Some even urged Rata to return to his home, remembering that Pou not only devoured men, but their weapons, and the very canoes in which they sailed.

Rata asked them in what way he attacked men.

They answered, “He stamps up and down on the beach, swinging his arms, head down, and eyes glaring while he mutters a powerful charm, saying ‘Little heads! little heads!’ when all strength seems to leave the men who have ventured near him, and he at once devours them.”

“Do as I tell you,” said Rata, “and you need have no fear. I have a charm more powerful than his.”

​The warriors had great faith in Rata; but when they had drawn the canoe ashore, and saw the ogre approaching,—above all when they heard the mysterious charm, “Little heads! little heads!” they began to feel very much afraid.

“Hark!” they said to Rata; “he is chanting his charm.”

Rata heard the words; but he at once replied, “Quickly big face, spread over the sky.”

The ogre heard the words; and as the men did not fall down in fear as he expected, he thought this must be some charm more powerful than his own, and he stopped to listen. They approached, and he dared not touch them, asking them instead to visit him in his house. Once there he thought he might do as he wished.

Pou went off; but Rata warned his men not to enter at the door, as Pou would be waiting for that; and as they neared the house, whose walls were made of laced reeds, again they heard the words “Little heads! little heads!”

Rata made an opening in the wall, and he and his men entered through that. Again ​Pou was puzzled, and bade his visitors sit on the mats prepared for them.

“Not so,” said Rata; “sit on the bare ground.”

Pou began to think he would never get the better of these men; all his tricks had failed—and when Rata asked him to fetch him a drink of water, he was glad to go, so that he might think of what to do.

He went to a stream close by; but though he came close to the water, he could not get his calabash into it; no, the water seemed to move away. He stepped closer,—but no, away went the water, and so he went on, stepping and stooping, stepping and stooping, but never seeming to get nearer.

Rata with his magic did this, for he had a reason. He was heating some large stones in the fire; and when they were red-hot, he ceased murmuring his charms, and Pou was able to fill his calabash.

“Here is your water,” said he on his return; “but never have I had so much trouble to catch it.”

“You must be in need of food,” said Rata.

“That is so,” said Pou, looking longingly at the men.

“Here then is some we have prepared for you,” said Rata.

​Pou opened his mouth, and Rata quickly threw in the red-hot stones. The ogre burst in pieces, and there they saw the men, weapons, mats, canoes, and other such things that Pou had swallowed in times past. Now there was left only Matuku.

From Tama, one of the attendants of Pou, they learned that Matuku dwelt deep down in the cave of a hill not far distant, and away they went to the hill. They learned, too, that the father of Rata was not dead, but was kept as a prisoner.

They fixed snares round the mouth of the cave, and then called to Matuku below.

“E—Matuku!” called Tama, using the cry common to the people, and after a time a rumbling reply was heard.

“You are wanted above here,” cried Tama.

“For what reason am I wanted at this time?”

“That you may charm the crop of thistles.”

They used thistles as a food, but it was not the season for the thistles, and Matuku knew this very well. He was angry, thinking Tama was only playing tricks. “I will not come," they heard him answer; “wait till the kaka tears the rata for honey by day, ​and the mutton-bird comes from his sea-side burrow by night;—that is the season, and then I will come.”

But Rata leaned forward, and cried as Tama had cried,—

“E!—Matuku!” but Rata added, "here are men for your food and goods for your use.”

He turned to his men, bidding them be ready with the snares, for this was certain to bring Matuku from below. So it proved, for they heard the sound of him as he came nearer and nearer; and they heard the words:

His head appeared, his shoulders; and on Rata giving the word Matuku was caught round the waist by the snares, when Rata rushed forward to attack him.

“You cannot kill me,” cried Matuku as Rata cut off an arm.

“You cannot kill me,” he cried as Rata cut off the other arm.

He repeated the cry as Rata cut off first one leg, then the other, and as his head was being taken off he still cried “You cannot kill me.”

​His words were true; for suddenly his body changed into a bird that ran off with a sound as of mocking. That bird is called a bittern by us, but in the language of Rata's people it is known as matuku.

Rata now went down to set free his father, and he and his men hid among the trees near the village where the Pona-turi dwelt, and where his father was a prisoner. In the evening Rata stole out alone to spy on the doings of the people. He saw the wise men of the Pona-turi performing certain ceremonies, and repeating powerful charms. The charms he learned, and then dashed among the wise men, shouting aloud and striking right and left with his weapon.

His men heard him, they came to his assistance, the wise men were dispersed or killed, and Rata set free his father, all hurrying away before the Pona-turi discovered what had happened.

They reached their home, and in the morning Rata from the watch-tower of his fortress looked out over the sea. Far away he saw the canoes of the Pona-turi. They had discovered their loss, and had come to attack the fortress.

​Preparations were made to defend the place; gates were closed, men lay with spears

behind the tall palisades, and all was ready when from canoe after canoe the Pona-turi ​leaped to the beach and with wild cries began the attack.

They climbed the palisades, though many were speared and fell in the deep ditch along the foot; as one fell another took his place, and so many were they that soon many were within the defences, fighting desperately with the defenders. They struck one another with clubs of stone and of wood; they thrust with short spears; they slashed with sword-like weapons of wood and bone.

The Pona-turi were many more in number than the defenders, and one after another the best warriors of Rata were killed, and the enemy penetrated further and further into the fortress. Then Rata remembered the charm he had learned from the wise men of the Pona-turi. He repeated the charm, and a wonderful change took place. The Pona-turi seemed to weaken; they ceased their wild shouting; they grew afraid. More;—the dead warriors sprang to their feet as if from a sleep and fought more vigorously than before, and seeing this the remaining Pona-turi turned and fled.

Some escaped, some were killed, and many lay dead; but of the warriors of Rata, not a man was even missing.