Nor must the best of Maori whalers be forgotten--the chief Tuhawaiki--brave in war, shrewd and businesslike in peace, who could sail a schooner as cleverly as any white skipper, and who has been most unfairly damned to everlasting fame--local fame--by his whaler's nickname of "Bloody Jack!" These, and the "hands" whom they ordered about, knocked down, caroused with, and steered, were the men who, between 1810 and 1845, taught the outside world to take its way along the hitherto dreaded shores of New Zealand as a matter of course and of business.

Half heroes, half ruffians, they did their work, and unconsciously brought the islands a stage nearer civilization.

Odd precursors of English law, nineteenth-century culture, and the peace of our lady the Queen, were these knights of the harpoon and companions of the rum-barrel.
But the isolated coasts and savage men among whom their lot was cast did not as yet call for refinement and reflection.

Such as their time wanted, such they were.

They played a part and fulfilled a purpose, and then moved off the stage.