by Ray Black
The one aspect of Tupi culture that horrified the Europeans the most was cannibalism
Brazil was discovered by accident when a Portuguese expedition to India, led by Pedro Alvares Cabral, swung too far to the west in 1500. It was a land that was occupied by native indians, but there were a few forts inhabited by Portuguese and French men. Although it was the Portuguese who had discovered the new land, the French decided to form a colony in Brazil.
Hans Staden was a German soldier who sailed twice to Brazil on board Portuguese ships. His first voyage was relatively uneventful, but the second to this New World in 1549, proved to be disastrous. The convoy of three vessels was shipwrecked which left Staden stranded and completely unsure of where he was. He eventually discovered a Portuguese fort on the coast which is today known as São Paulo state, where he served as a gunnery instructor. He was a specialist with cannons, and it wasn’t long before the Portuguese promoted him to ‘Artilleryman’ of the Fort of Bertioga.
After working at the Fort for several years, Staden started to make preparations to return to Europe, where, he was told, he would receive the recognition and gold from the King of Portugal for his work. But, one day, in 1552, he tells the story that he left the Fort for a moment to search for a missing slave. Then, before he was aware of what was happening he was captured by seven Tupinamba indians, who were known to be enemies of the Portuguese. These Tupinambas were families who lived, worked and raised their offspring together, not unlike European families. They shaved their heads into tonsures, played jokes, laughed, and were loyal and genial to their friends. But apart from their friendly façade, there was something very unneighbourly about these Brazilian indians. They were known to be very cruel to their enemies, burying their Portuguese prisoners up to their waists and then throwing darts at their torsos for sport. They spat on them and then challenged them to die a courageous death, and then ritualistically burned them. Next they butchered the corpses of their enemies, cooked them on a wooden barbecue called a ‘boucan’, ready to be eaten by the whole family.
Believing that Staden was Portuguese, the Tupinamba carried him out to sea in their ‘piroga’, which was a form of aboriginal canoe. When they arrived at the Tupinamba village of Ubatuba, a festive ritual was waiting for Staden. Suddenly, he became aware that these natives were planning to kill him and cook him for their next meal. Having learned the language of the Tupi during his years in Brazil, Staden was well aware of his very precarious situation. His captors, who had already shaved off his eyebrows using a piece of glass, clearly intended to eat him.
In an effort to survive, Staden tried to convince the indians that he was not Portuguese, but French, and that he was an ally of the Tupinamba. The natives, not believing his story, summoned a Frenchman named Karrwattware from a neighbouring village with whom Staden could converse. Unfortunately for Staden he was unable to understand the man’s French, and consequently Karrwattware told the natives to ‘. . . kill him and eat him, the good-for-nothing, for he is indeed a Portuguese, your enemy and mine’.
As if his situation was not bad enough, things looked even bleaker when the tribal chief of the Tupinamba, Konyan Bebe, announced that he had already helped to ‘. . . kill and eat five Portuguese who said they were Frenchmen, but had all lied’.
One way or another Staden managed to convince the indians that he was not their enemy and lived for nine months among the Tupinambas. Whether it was the fact that he was very white and blonde, or the fact that he invented that he was a kind of shaman and healer, it is not known, but his luck was with him. Staden become something like a ‘Ché remimbaba indé’, or a domestic animal, and his ‘owner', Great Shark, lead him everywhere just as he would a little dog.
In 1557 Staden was finally received by a captain on his boat (having tried on several occasions before and been refused), in exchange for some merchant, which meant he could return to Europe. On his return Staden compiled a book, Hans Staden: The True History of his Captivity, about his capture, including many graphic woodcut prints depicting cannibalism and other elements of the Tupinamba life. It was a fantastic tale and an immediate success which was reprinted several times with translations in Dutch, Latin and French.
Below is an excerpt from Chapter XXVIII of Hans Staden’s famous book:
. . . When they first bring home a captive the women and children set upon him and beat him. Then they decorate him with grey feathers and shave off his eyebrows, and dance around him, having first bound him securely so that he cannot escape. They give him a woman who attends to him and has intercourse with him. If the woman conceives, the child is maintained until it is fully grown. Then, when the mood seizes them, they kill and eat it.
. . .When all is ready they fix the day of his death and invite the savages from the neighbouring villages to be present. The drinking vessels are filled a few days in advance, and before the women make the drink, they bring forth the prisoner once or twice to the place where he is to die and dance round him. When the guests have assembled, the chief of the huts bids them welcome and desires that they shall help them to eat their enemy . . .
The Boyd Massacre
The story of the brigantine Boyd, is a horror story of early pioneering.
The ‘Boyd’ was a ship that had been contracted to carry convicts and free settlers from England to Port Jackson (now known as Sydney), Australia, in the year 1810. The colony had been formed 22 years ago, and it was a fairly straightforward process to transfer their human cargo. The route was well known, and the methods of shipping people on long sea voyages had been successful, without any undue number of deaths.
On its outward journey from the London Docks, the Boyd had successfully delivered its human cargo, who were safely secured below deck in irons. Each one of the prisoners had received a sentence from the Court ordering that they immediately be transported to Port Jackson in the British colony of Australia.
The ship, having been cleaned and reprovisioned, was now ready for its return journey. It was a 395-ton vessel which was 106 foot long with a 30-foot beam. On board was a total of 70 people, including some New Zealanders who were returning to their own country, and a son of one of the Maori chiefs of the Kaeo tribe, Whangaroa, who was called TeAara, or George in English. Other paying customers bound for England were listed as:
Catherine Bourke
Anne Glossop with her two-year-old child Betsy Broughton
Mordica Marks
Captain Burnsides
Ann Morley and her baby
James Moore
R. Wrather
John Budden
R & J Thomas
Thomas Martin
William Allen
William Mahoney
Dennis Desmond
John Petty
With everyone on board the Boyd set off on its long voyage back to England. From Port Jackson she sailed over the Tasman Sea, around the tip of New Zealand, then down the East coast before entering the harbour of Whangaroa. The Captain, John Thompson, had never been into this harbour before and didn’t know what to expect as only two other ships had previously entered this region. It was the Captain’s first visit to the Southern Ocean and his first encounter with the native Maori of New Zealand, whom he considered to be savages. Captain Thompson was hoping to use the young Maori boy to act as a negotiator when he reached Whangaroa, as he wished to obtain some kauri spars from the extensive stands of kauri timber which had been noted by Captain Cook during one of his earlier explorations. TeAara, who had asked to work his passage, was ordered to take his turn and work with the other sailors in helping to run the ship. However, he refused, stating that he was in ill health and that the son of a chief should not have to do such menial work. He was ordered in front of the Captain on a couple of occasions, who directed that he be flogged and that his food ration should be taken away. TeAara managed to conceal his resentment of the Captain, that is until they arrived at the harbour of Whangaroa. On seeing the harbour TeAara politely told the Captain the bes
t route in and where to anchor to secure the best cargo.
The Boyd dropped anchor close to the entrance of the harbour. It was a little distance from the entrance to the head of this long harbour, where the main tribal ‘pa’, or village, was situated. TeAara immediately went ashore and wasted no time in telling his father, Piopio, about his treatment and misfortunes at the hands of Captain Thompson. He had great delight in showing Piopio the red weals made by the whip on his back, and the marks and bruises on his wrists where he had been tied to the capstan. The Maori chief was determined to retaliate and get his revenge for the indignities suffered by his son. The ship carried quite an armoury of muskets, gunpowder, axes, knives and iron nails, but the Pakehas on board the Boyd had no idea of what was brewing.
The Maori appeared to be very friendly and after three days, Captain Thompson was invited to follow some of the Maori canoes from the harbour mouth and into the forest to find some suitable kauri trees to fell. To be useful as spars they needed to be perfectly straight poles, about 80 feet long by about 20 inches wide. Due to their size and weight, the logs would need to be close to the water so that they could be floated back to the ship and hauled on board with the aid of a windlass. Captain Thompson left his ship accompanied by his chief officer and three other men, while just a few crew members stayed on board preparing the ship for its return journey to England. The Captain and his men were closely followed by the Maori canoes right up to the entrance of the Kaeo River.
The Maori’s plan for retaliation started almost as soon as the canoes and longboats lost sight of the Boyd lying at anchor. They waited until they had all climbed ashore up the banks of the river before the natives drew out their weapons from underneath their clothing, and then savagely attacked the Captain and his crew members, leaving no-one alive. Then they stripped them naked, and before their bodies had time to get cold, the Maoris donned their jackets, trousers, shoes and frock coats. Meanwhile another group of natives carried their naked bodies back to the village for a tribal feast. The main course being the unfortunate sailors!
Meanwhile, the other natives in their various disguises, waited until dusk before they jumped on board the longboat and headed back towards the harbour. By the time they pulled alongside the Boyd it was already nightfall. The lights were shining on board the ship and the passengers were in their cabins relaxing while they waited for their evening meal. Unbeknown to them were the many native canoes surrounding the ship, all waiting for the signal to attack.
The Maoris swarmed up the ladder, their tattooed faces hidden by the disguises. One by one they struck with axes on the unsuspecting heads of the crew of the Boyd. They called to the passengers to come up on the main deck, and a woman passenger climbing the companionway to the deck was the first of many to die. In the carnage that ensued, five people managed to climb high into the ship’s rigging to hide among the sails, and it was there that they stayed until the light of dawn, bearing witness to the terrible atrocities going on below them. They watched as the natives dismembered the bodies, preparing them to be taken ashore and eaten.
As it grew lighter the people in the rigging spotted a large canoe coming into the harbour and making its way towards the ship. It was Chief TePahi from the Bay of Islands with some of his men, who had come down the coast to trade with the Captain. As he drew level with the ship he was horrified to see the scene of carnage and bloodshed that lay on the decks. Then he heard some English voices shouting down from the rigging, asking for help.
TePahi was in a quandary as to what to do, as his people did not live in Whangaroa and he felt he couldn’t justifiably intervene without risking the safety of his own men. However, he decided he should help the survivors of the Boyd and ushered them on board his canoe. The situation immediately became tense and uncertain as they were watched by the remaining bloodthirsty natives who were still in close proximity. TePahi ordered his men to pull swiftly for the shore, but they were immediately pursued by two other canoes containing the previous night’s attackers. It seemed they were intent on finishing the job, and wished to slaughter the remaining crew members. As they hit shore the men fled for their lives along the beach. Unable to come to their assistance, TePahi watched helplessly as one by one they were all caught and taken away by the natives. All, that is except Ann Morley and her baby.
Ann Morley had been found hiding in one of the cabins with her baby by TeAara, who apparently decided to spare her life, and she was taken ashore. One other person who was not killed was Thomas Davis, the ship’s cabin boy, who had a deformed foot and had managed to hide in the hold during the whole attack. The second mate managed to buy his life for two weeks by making fish hooks from barrel hoops, but when they had enough hooks the natives decided he had no further use and he was killed and eaten.
Anne Glossop’s two-year-old daughter, Betsy, was taken by the local chief, who put a feather in the petrified girl’s hair, and was held for three weeks until she was finally rescued.
TeAara and his men returned to the Boyd and towed it up the harbour towards their own village, until it became grounded in the shallow mudflats and keeled over on one side. Over the next few days the ship was pillaged of her cargo, but the natives saw no use for articles such as flour, salt pork, or even bottles of wine, and they merely threw them overboard. What TeAara and his men wanted were the muskets and gunpowder.
The looting was carried out by TeAara, his father Piopio and around 20 other members of their tribe. They found what they were looking for down in the hold, and brought several barrels of gunpowder up onto the deck. They broke the barrels open while Chief Piopio, who had found several muskets, was trying out one of the flints to see if he could get it to fire. What followed was an explosion that completely levelled the decks of the Boyd and killed nearly all the Maori warriors, including Piopio. Those who weren’t killed by the blast were soon wounded by the falling debris, as the spars and masts caught in the explosion, crashed down onto the deck.
With no-one able to attend to it, the fire that resulted from the blast, spread rapidly through the ship catching light to the cargo of whale oil that it had been carrying. In a very short time the Boyd was reduced to a burnt out hull just above the waterline right down to her copper sheathing. A Maori customary ‘tapu’ was declared on the ship. The tapu is the strongest force in Maori life, and means that a person, an object or a place, which is tapu, may not be touched by human contact, and in extreme circumstances, even approached.
Back at the village the feasting and sharing out of the spoils lasted for many days. The news of the massacre had reached the Bay of Islands on the return of Chief TePahi. A ship, the City of Edinburgh, was loading cargo for her Australian owners at the Bay, and the Captain, Alexander Berry, soon heard about the devastating act. He immediately gathered together his men and arms and went in haste to Whangaroa, and arrived three weeks later.
Armed with muskets three longboats headed up the harbour towards the Maori pah. They passed the burnt-out hull of the Boyd on the way and as they approached the landing, Berry handed over his command of the rescue party to a trusted Maori chief by the name of Metenangha.
Metenangha was the first one to go ashore and vanished into the bush near the pah and later returned with two of the principal Whangaroa chiefs and several of the natives who had been involved in the massacre. The natives were dressed in canvas and clothes that had been plundered from the Boyd. When asked by Metenangha why they had attacked the ship, one of the chiefs replied, ‘Because the Captain was a bad man’. He asked if there had been any survivors and was told that there was a woman, a small baby and a cabin boy back at the pah. Metenangha asked where they were holding them, and summoned the rescue party to follow them back to the main village.
When they arrived at the village a huge crowd had gathered. Several of the native women were wandering around in European dresses that had been taken from the ill-fated passengers of the Boyd. The rescuers examined the burnt out remains of the ship, and noticed that nearby were
the gruesome remains of flesh and human bones that still bore the teeth marks of their assailants.
The following morning the natives brought out a young woman and her baby, along with a boy who was around 15 years old. These people were Ann Morley, her baby girl, and Thomas Davis, the cabin boy. A Maori woman told them about the second mate, but said she had not seen him for about a week, obviously oblivious to the fact that he had already been slaughtered and eaten. She also spoke about a young girl of no more than two to three years old, and Alexander Berry recognized her description as being that of the infant named Betsy.
Both Berry and Metenangha demanded that the infant be brought to them immediately. They were told that the child was being held by another chief who lived close to the entrance of the harbour. They immediately put the survivors on board their long boats and headed off with the Whangaroa chiefs down the long stretch of the harbour. As they approached the sandy beach, Berry ordered that one of the chiefs go ashore and demand that the child be handed over to him. They waited for a short while before she was brought back to the longboat, crying feebly for her mamma. Her hair had been neatly combed and was adorned with a feather in the Maori fashion. She was quite clean and was dressed only in a white shirt which had once belonged to Captain Thompson.
Having handed over all the hostages, the two Whangaroa chiefs who had been held captive, asked for their release. Through Metenangha, Berry spoke to the chiefs who were clad in irons on board his ship.
‘If an Englishman committed a single murder, he would be hanged. You have massacred the whole crew and passengers of a ship, therefore you should be shown no mercy. As you are chiefs you will not be hanged, instead you will both be shot.’
Chief Metenangha pleaded with him to spare their lives. Reluctantly Berry agreed and handed the two chiefs over to Metenangha, and was later thanked for his clemency.