Hongi had been quick to discern the road to
conquest, which musket, gun-powder, and bullet would give him in New
Zealand against the native weapons. He chortled to himself as did Lamech:
'I have slain a man to my wounding, and a young man to my hurt.'
'Landing with his battery of muskets,' Sir George had the tale, 'Hongi
lost no time in carrying slaughter through Maoriland. His lurid fame
spread far and wide; his bill of slaughter grew bigger and bigger. Yet,
he met his death by a stray shot. Te-Whero-Whero, another Maori chief,
complained to me, while we were discussing Hongi, that it was quite
unfair he, should have been cut down in that fashion. When a veteran
warrior could be destroyed, almost by accident, to the gun of a nobody,
then all honest fighting was at an end. "You should," I was earnestly
counselled by Te-Whero-Whero, "not let Maoris have arms which lend
themselves to such ways."'
One English gift Hongi had not converted into muskets, a suit of armour
that had probably been in the Tower of London. 'Another chief near
Wellington'--Sir George stated this item arising out of Hongi--'had been
given the armour, either to inspect or to keep. Anyhow, his interest took
the form of hanging it on a tree, and firing at it. The bullet, it was
alleged, penetrated the armour, and a native ran to Wellington with the
report that the chief had been shot.
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