A few days later Tasman cast anchor in the bay to the west of that bay which bears his name, and at whose south-eastern extremity the town of Nelson now flourishes. Tasman himself gave a name to the bay in which he anchored, but not until he was about to leave it. A glance at the map will make it clear that both of these bays wash the northern shore of the Middle Island, _Te Wai Pounamou_, "The Waters of Greenstone."
The sun had not yet set when Tasman's anchors splashed into the bay and the sight of the strange white faces sent the Maori scurrying into their _whare_. An hour must elapse before the long-lingering day faded into night, and an hour is time and to spare for brave men to recover their confidence, however badly their nerves have been shaken. So it came about that, before nightfall, the chief and his warriors issued from their _whare_, and low voices muttered questions which no one could answer.
One thing, however, had become clear in that time of fear and hesitancy. So at length:
"They are men like ourselves," the chief said reassuringly. "There is no doubt about it, for I have been watching them from my _matapihi_.[52] Their faces are white and their canoes differ from ours, but they have no desire to quarrel. On the other hand, they continually signal, inviting us to visit them. I believe them to be friendly. My children, let us take a nearer look at these Pakeha. Fear nought. Atua fights for the Maori. Come!"
Accustomed to obey the word of their chief, the Maori manned a couple of canoes and paddled out towards the ships.
But the chief was aware that, for all their calm exterior, fear--that worst fear of all, fear of the unknown--tugged at his children's hearts, and he had no intention of trying them too far. So at his word the huge _tetere_ brayed, "in sound," says Tasman, "like a Moorish trumpet," the Maori shouted, splashing the water with their paddles, but giving no hostile challenge, and the sailors crowded their bulwarks, making signs of amity and displaying attractive articles to the brown men.
But twilight was fading now, and the chief hastened ashore to see his _hapu_ safely housed, and to set a guard, lest these queer white fellows should land during the night. The _tetere_ brayed again an unmusical "Lights out!" and with a great clamour of tongues the Maori withdrew behind their stockade to discuss the most surprising event of their lives.
