“Give us your present, and we will give it to him, but you must not land.”

“I am Tamate, from Suau, and have come as a friend to visit your old chief, and I must land.”

An elderly woman came close up to the boat, saying, “You must not land, but I will take the present, or,” pointing to a young man close by, “he will take it for his father,” he being the chief’s son.

“No; I must see the chief for myself; but the son I should also like to know, and will give him a present too.”

Springing ashore, followed by the mate, a fine, daring fellow, much accustomed to roughing it on the diggings, and not the least afraid of natives, I walked up the long beach to the village, to the chief’s house.  The old man was seated on the platform in front of the house, and did not even deign to rise to receive us.  I told him who I was, and the object of my coming.  He heard me through, and treated the whole as stale news.  I placed my present on the platform in front of him, and waited for some word of satisfaction; but none escaped the stern old chieftain.  Presents of beads were handed to little children in arms, but indignantly returned.  Loud laughing in the outskirts of crowd and little jostling.

“Gould,” said I to the mate, “I think we had better get away from here; keep eyes all round, and let us make quietly to the beach.”

To the chief I said, “Friend, I am going; you stay.”  Lifting his eyebrows, he said, “Go.”

We were followed by the crowd, one man with a large round club walking behind me, and uncomfortably near.  Had I that club in my hand, I should feel a little more comfortable.  When on the beach we saw the canoes had left the vessel, and were hurrying ashore; our boat was soon afloat, still, we had some distance to go.  I must have that club, or I fear that club will have me.  I had a large piece of hoop-iron, such as is highly prized by the natives, in my satchel; taking it, I wheeled quickly round, presented it to the savage, whose eyes were dazzled as with a bar of gold.  With my left hand I caught the club, and before he became conscious of what was done I was heading the procession, armed as a savage, and a good deal more comfortable.  We got safely away.

From Fyfe Bay we went round to Meikle Bay, where I visited all the villages, and was well received.  Before landing I decided to walk inland, and see for myself if there was no arm of the sea running up at the back.  The charts showed no such thing, but I felt sure, from the formation of the land and the manner of clouds hanging over it, that there must be a lake or some large sheet of water, and that there must be considerable streams carrying off the water of the Lorne Range and Cloudy Mountains, as no stream of any size came to the sea on the coast-side.  I got the chief of the village at the head of the bay and a large following to show us the way.  We travelled for some miles through good country, and at last came out opposite a large sheet of water, stretching well up towards Cloudy Mountain and away towards the head of Milne Bay.  Seeing the Stirling Range, I was able to take a few positions.