Note F, page 16.

One day I had to cross the Bay to Kororareka, purposely to bury one of those poor fellows whom I had known, and who was drowned in attempting to ford this river in his way to the Bay from Te Waimate. I myself have had to swim across at various times; and on one occasion in particular had a very unpleasant time of it. I was returning to Paihia from Te Waimate, on foot, and on my arrival at the river I saw it was under flood, the water being also muddy. I did not like to go back to Te Waimate, as my day had been fixed for my return to Paihia and I feared I could not carry all my clothing over on my heal page 35 dry,—it being however the summer season I was very thinly clad. While I was deliberating, and trying the depth of the water near me with a string and stone tied at the end of some rods, (flower-stalks of flax joined together,) a party of Maoris, men and women, (who were encamped in the neighbourhood on the opposite side,) made their appearance through the fern and scrub and squatted down on the bank of the river, watching my movements. Being strangers they would not assist me,—other than to offer to fetch my clothes and carry them across before me, which I would not agree to. It was a time of great embarrassment; the day, too, was passing, and I had many miles yet to travel,—besides the ugly dreaded Whauwhauroa crossing at low tide!) They lined the bank in the sun at the only landing-place; laughing and saying—they wanted to see how well a White-man could swim, &c., &c. As there was no alternative I prepared for the worst—a good wetting of my clothes. I cut flax leaves and tied up my clothing in a pretty compact bundle, which I fastened up so as to carry on my head, keeping my shirt loose in my straw hat. I had previously sounded the depth of the water, and, at last, entered the river backwards, and when out of depth turned and swam till near the opposite shore, when feeling the ground, I again turned, and by degrees put on my shirt, and so got to the bank,—not a little vexed with that party of Maoris; who, however, were loud in their praises (?) of "the cunning White-man;" and who, long after, said, had they but known me, or had I told them my name, they would have assisted me to cross. [To tell one's name, at any time, was, however, not in accordance with Maori etiquette.] The great danger in crossing the New Zealand rivers in the olden time, arose from the denseness of the tangled vegetation on the banks, which also extended overhanging a long way out into the river; so that if you did not happen to hit the one narrow and worn landing-place, through the rapidity of the current, there was little chance of getting to the bank at all.