Kitabı oku: «An Old New Zealander; or, Te Rauparaha, the Napoleon of the South.», sayfa 9

Out of this extreme confidence grew a further development of the Ngati-Toa scheme of conquest. Their forces were now divided into two sections, the one proceeding to the great bays on the Nelson Coast, where they intended forcibly establishing themselves, while the remainder, under their old leader, aided by Te Pehi and a staff of other warriors, prepared to test the merits of Rerewaka's boast. It was a fateful day in the summer of 1829 when the canoes with three hundred men left D'Urville Island and turned their prows to the south. Although few in numbers compared with the enemy they were going to meet, they knew that the advantage of arms was with them, almost every man being provided with a musket. Moreover, they were full of the animation which is born of complete confidence in one's leader, and which, in this case, almost amounted to a superstition. No war party with Rauparaha at its head ever took failure into account, some of the warriors even going so far as to declare that "it was only necessary to strike the enemy with the handles of their paddles in order to secure a victory."

Thus, well-armed and confident, the Ngati-Toa proceeded down the coast, resting the first day at Cloudy Bay, and subsequently at various other points, and arriving off Kaikoura before dawn on the fourth day. Not knowing what the exact disposition of the enemy's forces might be, and not being disposed for risks, Rauparaha anchored his canoes under the shadow of the peninsula, and then waited for the light. In this decision his characteristic good fortune did not desert him. It so happened that the Kaikoura natives were at that very time expecting a visit from some of their tribesmen in the south; and, when the first glimmering of dawn revealed a fleet of canoes on the bay below, there being nothing to indicate the direction from which they had come, the unsuspecting Ngai-Tahu assumed that their anticipated visitors had arrived. The early risers in the pa set up the song of welcome —Haere-mai, Haere-mai– and soon the whole settlement throbbed with life and activity, indicative of the jubilant expectation of a reunion of friends. Whilst the elders busied themselves with preparations for the hospitable entertainment of the strangers, the younger people rushed, shouting gaily, down to the beach, to escort the guests back to the pa. The quick eye of Te Rauparaha at once saw the trap into which his enemy had fallen; and, elated at his amazing good fortune, he ordered the advance of the canoes, which, with a few sweeping strokes of the paddles, were driven swiftly across the intervening water. Before the unwary victims had recognised their mistake or recovered from their surprise, the Ngati-Toa warriors were amongst them, dealing death-blows on every hand. As might have been expected, the Ngai-Tahu, being totally unarmed and unprepared for the attack, were slaughtered without remorse or resistance, and, as their only safety lay in flight, they beat a breathless retreat towards the pa, where for a time the semblance of a stand was made. But the muskets of their assailants were now doing their work of death, while their ruthless charges increased the havoc. Before long Rerewaka was a prisoner, over a thousand of his people were slain, and his stronghold was in the hands of his most detested enemies.

This decisive achievement was fully celebrated during the next ten days, with all the atrocities peculiar to cannibal feasts; and after the savage appetites of the victors had been surfeited with the flesh of their victims, and the nephritic treasures of the pa had been collected, the war party returned to Kapiti, carrying Rerewaka and four hundred additional prisoners with them, to be killed and eaten at the leisure of their conquerors. The majority of them in due course met this fate, Rerewaka himself being killed with especial marks of cruelty and indignity, because of the insulting nature of his language towards the Ngati-Toa chief.⁸⁴ In consideration of the circumstances which led to this attack upon Kaikoura, the victory has ever since been known as Niho Mango, or "the battle of the shark's tooth."

After the humiliation of Rerewaka and his people at Kaikoura, Rauparaha's greatest ambition was to pit himself in battle against that section of the Ngai-Tahu tribe who, under Tamaiharanui, Rongotara, and other powerful chiefs, held the strongly fortified pa at Kaiapohia. But before he had a reasonable excuse for picking a quarrel with the people of Kaiapoi, and so attacking them in a manner that would be strictly tika, or proper, he had another opportunity of returning to Kaikoura, to retrieve the dignity of himself and his friends. The cause of this second invasion, like the previous one, was somewhat remote; but, unlike it, it arose out of a superabundance of love rather than of hate. The offence complained of was not committed against Te Rauparaha, but against his nephew, Rangihaeata. Rangihaeata was at this time rapidly rising into fame as a daring and successful warrior, and his place in the tribe naturally demanded that much of his time should be given up to the business of war, with the result that his functions as the head of his household were much neglected. During one of these prolonged periods of absence, his pa at Porirua was visited by a chief of the Ngati-Ira (a branch of the Ngati-Kahungunu) tribe, named Kekerengu. According to tradition, this Kekerengu was a man of remarkable beauty of figure and grace of deportment. Tall and stalwart of frame, easy of carriage, and engaging in manner, his personal charm was still further enhanced in Maori estimation by a particularly artistic moko, or tattoo decoration. The introduction of this social lion into Rangihaeata's family circle was the cause of all the trouble. Kekerengu had so insinuated himself into the affections of the warrior's wives, that when Rangihaeata returned from the wars, the breath of scandal was busy with the proceedings of his family circle during his absence. The anger of the chief, on learning what had occurred, knew no bounds. Forthwith he sent the fiery cross from pa to pa, and in a short space of time a force sufficient for his purpose was enrolled. Te Rauparaha, to whom the scent of battle was sweet, at once espoused the cause of his injured relative, and together they set out in search of the destroyer of Te Rangihaeata's domestic happiness.

Kekerengu knew that, as the result of his indiscreet conduct, retribution would in some form follow him; but, in order to delay the evil day, he judiciously took to his canoe, and with a few of his followers crossed the Strait and sought refuge amongst the Ngai-Tahu of Kaikoura.⁸⁵ Thither Te Rauparaha tracked him; but the inhabitants of the pa were not to be taken by surprise a second time. Knowing that they were no match for the force they saw approaching, they at once abandoned their settlement and flew down the coast, through the Amuri, towards Kaiapoi. But this escapade was not to stand between the Ngati-Toa and their revenge. When they arrived and found the pa empty, they at once decided to go in pursuit. The march was swift and forced, and the invaders soon fell in with the fugitives, as they were camped at the Omihi stream. Here the unhappy wretches were attacked and routed with great slaughter, the few who escaped death or capture flying in precipitate haste into the bush, through which they made their way to the minor settlements further south. Kekerengu's guilt⁸⁶ was now expiated in his own blood and that of his hosts, and therefore Ngati-Toa might have returned to their homes fully satisfied with the results of their expedition. But the opportunity was so favourable for carrying out the long-cherished design of attacking Kaiapoi, that Te Pehi strenuously counselled going on. Te Rauparaha, it is said, was seized by some dark foreboding that Fate was trifling with him, and endeavoured to argue his lieutenant out of his warlike enthusiasm, but without avail. Te Pehi was bent upon storming Kaiapoi, and for once Te Rauparaha allowed himself to be overruled by his less cautious comrade. To facilitate the movements of the war party, which numbered about one hundred men, all encumbrances in the shape of prisoners were left in charge of a detachment at Omihi, and the canoes, which had been brought round from Kaikoura, were manned and taken as far down the coast as the Waipara River. There the force disembarked, and hauling the canoes beyond the reach of the tide, pushed on across the plains towards the southern stronghold.

Kaiapoi was one of the oldest of the Ngai-Tahu pas, as it was admittedly one of their strongest fortresses. It had been built by Tu Rakautahi in 1700 A.D., at the close of the thirty years' war, which had resulted in the expulsion and the almost total annihilation of the Ngati-Mamoe people. Its position had been selected with some strategic skill, for it stood on a narrow tongue of land about five acres in extent, which ran out into the Tairutu lagoon, and was surrounded on three sides by the dark waters of that extensive swamp, which stretched for several miles to the north and the south. On the landward side it was protected by a wide and deep ditch, which in peaceful times was bridged over, while its double row of palisades, erected upon massive earthworks and surmounted by curiously carved figures representing gods and ancestors, rendered it so impregnable in the popular estimation that it was sometimes compared to "the inaccessible cliff of God," which none had dared to scale. The internal arrangements were in keeping with the importance of the pa as the social and military centre of the tribe. Its population was numerous, wealthy, and distinctly aristocratic, and therefore the domains of the rangatiras and the commonalty were well defined. The dwellings of the chiefs were large and commodious structures, "ornamented inside and out with carving and scroll work." There were storehouses for the man physical, shrines for the man spiritual, playing grounds for old and young, and a burial-place for both when their earthly sojourn was over. The commerce of the pa was conducted through three gates, two of which, Kaitangata and Hiaka-rere, faced the deep moat, and the third, Huirapa, the lagoon on the western side, being connected with the opposite shore by a light wooden footway. But with all its vaunted strength, the pa had, according to critics, a fatal weakness, in that, if subjected to a close investment, it was liable to have its food supply cut off owing to its semi-insularity. Its builder had been twitted with this supposed defect when he determined upon the site of his stronghold, and he silenced his critics more by his ready wit than by the soundness of his military judgment. For he said "Kai" must be "poi," or food must be swung to the spot. "Potted birds from the forests of Kaikoura, fish and mutton birds from the south, kiore and weka from the plains and the mountain ranges"; and so down through the century or more which had passed since then it had been an essential part of the policy of those in authority at the pa to see that its commissariat was not neglected, and that its whatas were always full against the day when its gates might have to be barred to a troublesome enemy.⁸⁷

Such was the place which, in the opening months of 1829, the northern force marched to assault; but they had sadly misjudged the position if they imagined that they could take it by surprise. Ngai-Tahu had warning enough to enable them to gather their people within the palisades, to cut away their bridges, and to stand upon the alert at all the most vulnerable points. When, therefore, Te Rauparaha arrived under the walls of the pa, he adopted the most diplomatic course open to him, and made a virtue of necessity by feigning that he had come only with the most peaceful intent. His first care was to select a suitable site for his camp; he fixed it upon the south-western side of the lagoon, and there calmly sat down to await developments. Nor had he long to wait. Tamaiharanui, the high priest and leading chief of the Ngai-Tahu tribe, accompanied by a native named Hakitara, proceeded under commission from the people in the pa to inquire the purpose of so unexpected a visit. Hakitara was a Nga-Puhi native, having come originally from the northern portion of the Auckland Province. When Te Rauparaha had exchanged salutations with him and the venerable Tamaiharanui, he proceeded to furnish the explanation which they had come to seek. In the course of his oration he recited a tau, or war song, the idiom of which was more apparent to the Nga-Puhi than to his companion, who was less learned in northern lore. This battle chant conveyed a message to Hakitara which was sinister and disturbing. The protestations of Te Rauparaha were most ardent in the direction of peace, and his declarations full of the promise of friendship; but the words of his song had been so suspiciously indicative of evil intent, that Hakitara felt it incumbent upon him to advise the immediate return of Tamaiharanui to the pa, while he himself remained in the Ngati-Toa camp to pick up what scraps of useful information might drop from the lips of incautious retainers. By dint of sedulous inquiry, particularly amongst the slaves, he gleaned enough to stimulate his suspicions, which were more than confirmed when he heard that the northerners had desecrated a newly made grave which they had passed on the march to the pa. Such an outrage to the dead of Ngai-Tahu was not the act of friends; and now the living witnesses of Te Rauparaha's hostility began to pour into Kaiapoi, viz., the fugitives who had escaped from the slaughter at Omihi. For days they had wandered in the bush and in the by-paths of the open lands, hoping to evade the clutch of their pursuers; and when they arrived with their tale of terror, something more than fair words were needed to convince the inhabitants of the semi-beleaguered pa that Ngati-Toa had come so far south on a mission of peaceful commerce, and not of resentful war. Te Rauparaha, with his usual clarity of vision, saw the predicament in which the inopportune arrival of the fugitives had placed him, and promptly determined upon a desperate expedient, which, he hoped, would allay the dark suspicion which he hourly saw growing up around him, and which, if unchecked, would assuredly frustrate his enterprise. Not only did he feel it necessary to reiterate his assurances that nothing but a desire to trade for greenstone had brought him to Kaiapoi, but he did more. With a recklessness which only a critical situation could justify, he permitted his principal lieutenants – a liberty hitherto denied them – to freely enter the enemy's pa, and carry on, with well-simulated earnestness, negotiations for the exchange of greenstone for their own ancient fire-arms and doubtful powder.

Amongst the first of the Ngati-Toa chiefs to avail himself of this permission was Te Pehi,⁸⁸ who, it will be remembered, had, with fatal enthusiasm, inspired the raid, and urged it upon an unwilling leader. Together with Pokaitara, Te Aratangata, Te Kohua, Te Hua Piko, and several other chiefs equally renowned in Ngati-Toa warfare, Te Pehi continued to visit and revisit the pa for several days, carrying on a brisk trade, and incidentally noting the interior arrangements of the fortress, its people, and the chances of its speedy capture. Meanwhile, the Ngai-Tahu agent in Te Rauparaha's camp was not idle, and not the least of Hakitara's successes was the fact that he had been able to ingratiate himself into the good opinion of Te Rauparaha. That astute personage, usually so keen a judge of character, was completely deceived by the clever Nga-Puhi, whom he had hopes of weaning from the Ngai-Tahu cause. To this end he presented him with one of the most attractive of his slaves, a lady named Te Aka, whose charms it was hoped would prove sufficiently strong to draw the Nga-Puhi warrior back to the north. But Te Rauparaha's cold calculations were soon set at naught by the warmth of a human heart. Te Aka was not a free woman. She was a slave, whose pa and whose people had been overrun and destroyed by the ruthless invader, and within her breast there burned the undying desire and hope for revenge. Therefore, when she and Hakitara came to understand each other, there was soon a joint wit at work to worst the man who fondly believed that the human passions were being harnessed to his political schemes. So confident was he that he would win Hakitara over, that he neglected even ordinary prudence in discussing his plans within his hearing. To such excess was this overconfidence carried, that one night he called his chiefs together to a council of war, which was held under the eaves of the whare which Hakitara occupied, where every word could be heard by the occupants. Here the whole scheme of the capture of Kaiapoi was discussed and decided upon; and so hopeful was Te Rauparaha of success, that he boastingly remarked to Te Rangihaeata, "Soon we shall have our pa." "Beware of the Nga-Puhi man," was Rangihaeata's whispered advice; but Rauparaha dismissed the warning by an impatient gesture and a petulant remark that nothing was to be feared from that quarter. Hakitara had, however, been greedily listening to all that had passed, and when the council broke up he was in possession of every detail of the tactics by which the pa was to be assaulted on the morrow.

As might be surmised, sleep came but fitfully to the faithful Hakitara that night, and just as the first silver ray of dawn was breaking in the east, he rose, and, wrapping himself in a large dog-skin mat, crept out of the hut into the grey morning, determined to warn his friends in the pa, if fortune did not desert him. The Maori system of warfare, though quaint in many respects, was practical enough to include the posting of sentries round the camps; and, even if they were not invariably vigilant, there was always the risk that one might happen to be watchful at an awkward moment. This fear haunted Hakitara as, with beating heart, he wormed his way between the huts and through the tufts of waving tussock grass. Tradition records that he was successful in eluding a direct challenge; and when he was well beyond the circuit of the sentries, he rose to his feet and ran with all his speed to the nearest gate of the pa. The gate was instantly opened to him, and in a hurried whisper he bade the keeper summon the chiefs to a conference in a neighbouring house. When the warriors were assembled, he disclosed to them in hot, hurried words all that he knew of Ngati-Toa's intentions, which, in remembrance of a treaty negotiated only the previous day, could be regarded in no other light than as a shameless breach of faith. The council decided that they would not wait for the blow to fall upon them from outside, but would forestall the northerners in their own methods. They knew that some of the Ngati-Toa chiefs would, in keeping with the custom of the past few days, visit them again for the purpose of trade; and they were hopeful that, by a special effort, they might be able to induce the great Te Rauparaha himself to come within the gates. It was agreed that the chiefs, once within the walls, should be attacked and killed, and that then a sortie should be made upon the unsuspecting camp outside. Scarcely had this decision been arrived at, when Te Pehi and several of his fellow-chiefs entered the pa and began to mix with the populace, who were now busy preparing for the business of the day, and were in total ignorance of the decision of their leaders or the circumstances which had dictated it. There was thus no change in the demeanour of the people to excite uneasiness in the minds of Te Pehi and his friends. They, on the other hand, knowing that their plans were nearing fruition, and believing that the pa was virtually in the hollow of their hands, adopted a more insolent air, and were at no pains to conceal the contempt with which they regarded the rights of Ngai-Tahu property. Thus, Te Pehi boldly entered one of the houses, and seizing a large block of greenstone, attached to it a rope of flax, and proceeded to drag it towards the Hiaka-rere gate, evidently intending to carry it into the northern camp.

The pa was now alive with men and women, for the day was well on, and the audacious cupidity of Te Pehi aroused both astonishment and anger. As he strode towards the gate, he had to pass a group of excited onlookers sitting in the marae, or open space which served the purpose of a sports ground. One of these, Moimoi, rose and challenged Te Pehi's right to purloin his greenstone in that unceremonious fashion. With scorn unspeakable, Te Pehi turned upon his interrogator, and in tones of bitter contempt inquired by what right he, a menial, dared to call in question the actions of a chief. "You of the crooked tattoo, what use would your ugly head be to me if I were to carry it back with me to Kapiti? It would be worth nothing towards the purchase of a musket. But," said he, turning to a stalwart native standing near by, "here is a man whose head would be worth the taking, but you with the worthless head, how dare you cavil at the actions of the great Te Pehi?" The slighting reference to the inartistic facial decoration of Moimoi was intended to be particularly insulting, for every native was wont to pride himself upon the completeness of his moko, and Te Pehi had good reason to regard himself as something of an authority upon this branch of Maori art, for his own tattoo was more than usually elaborate. But the most alarming portion of his taunt was his thinly-veiled reference to the sale of Moimoi's head. Every one knew that at this period a considerable traffic had sprung up in native heads,⁸⁹ which were preserved by a crude process and traded away to Europeans in exchange for muskets. Te Pehi's reference to the matter could, then, only be taken as an indication that during his visits to the pa he had lent his eye to business, and, in this connection, business meant the assault and sacking of the fortress. The full force of this indiscreet admission had flashed upon the astonished listeners; but, before they could reply, their attention was diverted from the arrogance of Te Pehi by another incident which had occurred at the Hiaka-rere gate. Pokaitara, one of Te Rauparaha's most intrepid lieutenants, had approached this entrance, and was seeking admission to the pa, which was being denied him. Observing who the visitor was, Rongotara, the superior resident chief of Kaiapoi, ordered the keeper of the gate to admit him, exclaiming as he did so, "Welcome my younger brother's lord," a reference to the fact that Rongotara's brother had been made a prisoner at Omihi by Pokaitara, and was at that moment in his keeping. The gate was immediately thrown open; but the Ngati-Toa had no sooner bent his head beneath the portal than Rongotara dealt him a crushing blow with his miti, or stone club, which he was carrying in his hand, and the lifeless body fell with a heavy thud to the ground.

It was this opening episode in the Ngai-Tahu policy of checkmate which had suddenly diverted attention from Te Pehi. But the incident had been as visible to him as to those around him, and the moment he saw it, the critical nature of his own position dawned upon him, and, taking no further thought of the greenstone, he sprang with the agility of a tiger towards the south-western angle of the palisading, and commenced to scramble up the wall by clutching the vines which bound the upright posts together. His plunge for safety would probably have proved successful – for several shots which were fired at him flew wide of the mark – had not Tangatahara, a Ngai-Tahu warrior of great strength and personal courage, closed with him, and, pulling him to the ground, despatched him with a blow from his tomahawk.⁹⁰ The other northern chiefs who were in the pa were apprised of the mêlée which was proceeding by the sound of the fire-arms discharged against Te Pehi, and were not slow to grasp the situation. Realising that they had been trapped, they knew that it would be of little use attempting to escape by the regular gateways, which were all securely guarded; and, with one exception, those who were free to do so flew to the walls, hoping to scale them, and so get safely to their camp. But they were for the most part either overpowered by numbers and tomahawked on the spot, or were shot while scrambling up the aka vines. The exception referred to was Te Aratangata, who happened to be at the northern end of the pa, and was at this juncture bargaining to secure a famous greenstone mere called by the Ngai-Tahu people "Te Rau-hikihiki." The moment he saw what was happening, he dashed toward the gate Huirapa, hoping to force his way past the guard, who, he supposed, could offer but feeble resistance to his own exceptional strength, courage, and skill.

There is every reason to believe that Rongotara rather precipitated matters by killing Pokaitara at the gate, as it had been decided that an attempt should first be made to induce the great Te Rauparaha himself to enter the pa, in the hope of including him in the holocaust. Still, the plans of the Kaiapoi chiefs were sufficiently mature to meet the emergency when it suddenly arose; and so Te Aratangata discovered to his alarm that, although he was at the further end of the pa from that at which Te Pehi had been attacked, he was just as closely surrounded by enemies. When he started for the gate, he had virtually to fight every inch of the way. He had little difficulty in disposing of the first few who intercepted his path; but, as he drew nearer to the gate, his assailants increased, and before he had struggled on many yards he was attacked by over twenty persons armed with all manner of weapons. Against those who ventured at close quarters he valiantly defended himself with his mere, all the time pressing on towards the gate. A gun-shot wound temporarily checked his onward course, and he was soon further handicapped by several spear-thrusts, which left the spears dangling in the fleshy parts of his body, and from which he found it impossible to disengage himself, pressed as he was on every side. These difficulties perceptibly weakened his defence, but he was still able to fight on, keeping his opponents at bay by swift and desperate blows with his mere, which, up to this moment, had accounted for all who had ventured within his reach. The brave Ngati-Toa had now reached within a few paces of the gate, and may have even yet had dreams of escape, when the crowning disaster came in the breaking of his mere. A shot, which had been intended for his body, struck the greenstone blade, and shattered the faithful weapon into a hundred fragments, leaving only the butt in Aratangata's hand. Now utterly defenceless, weakened by his wounds, and hampered by the dragging spears, the undaunted chief turned upon his assailants, and, with his last strength, grappled with those who came within his reach. The unequal struggle could not, however, be long maintained. Emboldened by his helpless condition, his pursuers pressed in upon him with angry tumult, and he was borne to the ground by Te Koreke, who finished the deadly work with a succession of blows with his tomahawk upon the prostrate warrior's head and neck.

So fell Te Aratangata, and so fell the flower of the Ngati-Toa tribe that day. In all, eight great chiefs⁹¹ were killed, who, by their heroism on the field and their sagacity in council, had materially aided Te Rauparaha in all his great achievements. They had added brilliancy to his battles, lustre to his victories, and had lent a wisdom to his administration, whereby the fruits of his enterprise had not been wasted by internecine strife. So dire a tragedy as the death of the princes of his tribe was a great blow to Te Rauparaha. But it is doubtful whether the sacrifice of so much mental and physical fibre was more keenly felt by the Ngati-Toa chief than the loss of prestige and damage to his reputation, which he might reasonably apprehend from his being outwitted at his own game, and that, too, by a people whom he had hitherto despised as opponents. That they would turn upon him in what he chose to regard as an unprovoked attack was something which was not reckoned upon in his philosophy, for he had trusted to his blandishments to soothe away their suspicions, or to his great name and reputation to awe them into submission. And when the blow fell, and he saw his patiently laid plans tumbling about his ears, he received the result with mingled feelings of surprise, indignation, and something akin to dismay. In this frame of mind he deemed it expedient to anticipate any further unexpected eventualities by withdrawing his force and making good his retreat with as little delay as possible. Consequently his camp was at once broken up, and the little army made its dejected way across the plain to Double Corner, where the canoes had been left, and next day Te Rauparaha set sail for Omihi and Kapiti, having, as the result of his first raid upon Kaiapoi,⁹² added neither greenstone to his treasure nor glory to his reputation as a warrior.

For the better part of two years Te Rauparaha nursed his wrath against Ngai-Tahu, and spent the intervening time in devising schemes whereby he might secure a vengeance commensurate with the disgrace of his repulse and the death of his well-loved friends. One thing on which he had fully determined was that Ngai-Tahu should pay for their temerity with the purest of their blood, for he would take no plebeian in payment for so royal a soul as Te Pehi. His schemes were therefore directed against the life of Tamaiharanui,⁹³ who has already been described as the embodiment of spiritual and temporal power in the southern tribe. He was the hereditary representative of all that stood for nobility amongst the sons of Tahu. His person was regarded as so sacred that the common people scarcely dared to look upon his face. He could only be addressed by his fellow-chiefs with the greatest deference and in the most reverential language; and if, while passing through the congested streets of a village, his shadow should fall upon a whata or a rua, the storehouse and its contents would be immediately destroyed, to prevent the sacrilege of a tribesman consuming food upon which even the shade of so sacred a personage had lighted. Indeed, so sanctified and ceremonious an individual was he, that his presence was sometimes oppressive to those who were not accustomed to live in an atmosphere of ritual; for the slightest disregard of what was due to one so endowed with the spirit of the gods might involve them at any moment in the loss of possessions, and even of life.