When my savage friend (whom we used to
call Mr. Tookee) had overcome his first burst
of delight at seeing me, and had literally left
off jumping for joy, he introduced me to his
father, Mr. De Frookee, the chief of this tribe,
a very fine specimen of an old New Zealander,
who was (I found) highly respected for his integrity
and benevolence. His eyes overflowed
with tears when he heard I was the person
who had shown such kindness to his son at
Sydney. I soon felt quite “ at home ” with
the old chief, and experienced the good effect
of having kept my word with this uncultivated
savage. I had, at the time I presented him
with the gifts, been much laughed at by my
acquaintances at Sydney for putting myself to
such unnecessary expense; but, from the
gratitude he displayed for the trifling services
I had then rendered him, I felt assured he
and his companions would do all in their
power to protect me from every danger.
A long discussion was now carried on, one
speaker at a time occupying the oblong space
round which the warriors sat, and the more
animated the debate, the faster ran the speaker