On this occasion, old Warremaddoo threw off his mat, took his spear, and began to address his tribe and the chiefs.  He made strong appeals to them against the injustice and ingratitude of Moodeewhy’s conduct towards them, recited many injuries which he and his tribe had suffered from Moodeewhy for a long period, mentioned instances of his bad conduct at the time that his father’s bones were removed from the Ahoodu Pa to their family vault, stated acts of kindness which he had shown to Moodeewhy at different times, and said that he had twice saved his tribe from total ruin.  In the present instance, Moodeewhy had killed three of his hogs.  Every time he mentioned his loss, the recollection seemed to nerve afresh his aged sinews:  he shook his hoary beard, stamped with indignant rage, and poised his quivering spear.

He exhorted his tribe to be bold and courageous; and declared that he would head them in the morning against the enemy, and, rather than he would submit, he would be killed and eaten.  All that they wanted was firmness and courage; he knew well the enemies they had to meet, their hearts did not lie deep; and, if they were resolutely opposed, they would yield.

His oration continued nearly an hour, and all listened to him with great attention.

This dispute, however, partly through Marsden’s intercession, who offered to give each of the indignant leaders an adze if they would make peace, was at last amicably adjusted; and the two, as the natives expressed it, “were made both alike inside.”

But Marsden was a good deal surprised on observing old Warremaddoo, immediately after he had rubbed noses with Moodeewhy in token of reconcilement, begin, with his slaves, to burn and destroy the fence of the enclosure in which they were assembled, belonging to Moodeewhy, who, however, took no notice of the destruction of his property thus going on before his face.  Upon inquiry, he was told that this was done in satisfaction for a fence of the old man’s which Moodeewhy had destroyed in the first instance, and the breaking down of which had, in fact, given rise to the trespass.

A New Zealander would hold himself to be guilty of a breach of the first principles of honour if he ever made up a quarrel without having exacted full compensation for what he might conceive to be his wrongs.

The battle which Nicholas expected to witness was to be fought between the tribe of an old chief named Henou,[CI] and that of another, named Wiveah,[CJ] who had seduced his wife.  The two parties met in adjoining enclosures, and Nicholas took his station on the roof of a neighbouring hut to observe their proceedings.  The conference was commenced by an old warrior on Henou’s side, who, rising, amid the universal silence of both camps, addressed himself to Wiveah and his followers.

Nicholas describes the venerable orator as walking, or rather running, up and down a paling, which formed one side of the enclosure in which he was, uttering his words in a tone of violent resentment, and occasionally shaking his head and brandishing his spear.  He was answered in a mild and conciliating manner by two of Wiveah’s followers.