The next day the boats tried to find another landing-place, but the surf was too heavy; and when two canoes were seen coming in from the sea, Cook determined to intercept them and try to come to friendly terms.  However, they would not stop when called on, and on a musket being fired over them, the occupants seized their weapons and fiercely attacked the nearest boat, its crew being compelled to fire in self-defence, and Cook says two natives were killed.  Banks gives the number as four, and the Maori account agrees with him.  Three jumped overboard to swim ashore, but were picked up by the boats and taken on board ship.  They were at first very depressed, but soon recovered their spirits on finding themselves well treated, and after eating and drinking enormously, entertained the crew with songs and dances.  Cook deeply regretted this incident, and candidly confesses that he was not justified in trying to seize the canoes, but having once committed himself, he was obliged for his own safety to go to the bitter end.  Banks says the day is “the most disagreeable my life has yet seen; black be the mark for it, and heaven send that such may never return to embitter future reflection.”

The next day a party landed to cut wood, and was accompanied by the three captives, whom they tried to persuade to join their friends.  The suggestion was declined, as they professed to be afraid of being eaten, and after a time went and hid in some bushes.  Cook, noticing several parties of armed natives advancing in a threatening manner, retired his woodcutters across the river.  About 150 to 200 Maoris gathered on the opposite bank.  Tupia was put forward to parley, and some presents were shown, and at length one man came over who received a present from each of the British and then rejoined his friends.  Cook then returned to the ship, taking with him the three youths, who still seemed afraid of their own countrymen.  They were again landed the next morning as the ship was about to sail, and though they still professed to be frightened, were soon seen walking away in friendly converse with some who had come to meet them.

Native account.

Mr. Polack, a New Zealand resident, gives an account in his New Zealand, which he gathered from the children of natives who were present at the landing of Cook.  The tribe then living in the neighbourhood were recent arrivals, their leader being Te Ratu—­the first man killed by the English.  The natives were anxious to avenge him, but were afraid of the “thunderbolts which killed at a long distance,” some indeed went so far as to say they felt ill if an Englishman looked at them.  The idea of revenge was only ended on the vessel leaving.  Mr. Polack’s chief witness was the son of a man who was wounded by a ball in the shoulder, but survived his wound till within a year or two of 1836, the time the information was obtained.  Before the ship left, a sort of peace was patched up by means of presents, and the dead bodies which had been left where they fell, apparently as a protest, were removed.