coal and gold as valuable as the
riches of Java. He seems to have regarded New Zealand simply as a
lofty barrier across his path, to be passed at the first chance.
Groping along, he actually turned into the wide opening which,
narrowing further east into Cook's Strait, divides the North and South
Islands. He anchored in Golden Bay; but luck was against him. First of
all the natives of the bay paddled out to view his ships, and, falling
on a boat's crew, clubbed four out of seven of the men. Tasman's
account--which I take leave to doubt--makes the attack senselessly
wanton and unprovoked.

He tells how a fleet of canoes, each carrying from thirteen to
seventeen men, hung about his vessels, and how the strongly-built,
gruff-voiced natives, with yellowish-brown skins, and with white
feathers stuck in their clubbed hair, refused all offers of
intercourse. Their attack on his boat as it was being pulled from the
_Zeehan_ to the _Heemskirk_ was furious and sudden, and the crew
seem to have been either unarmed or too panic-stricken to use their
weapons. Both ships at once opened a hot fire on the canoes, but hit
nobody. It was not until next day, when twenty-two canoes put out to
attack them, that the Dutch marksmen after much more firing succeeded
in hitting a native. On his fall the canoes retired. Satisfied with
this Tasman took no vengeance and sailed away further into the strait.
Fierce north-westerly gales checked for days his northward progress.
The strait, it may be mentioned, is still playfully termed "the
windpipe of the Pacific." One night Tasman held a council on board the
_Heemskirk_, and suggested to the officers that the tide showed that
an opening must exist to the east, for which they had better search.
But he did not persevere. When next evening the north wind died away
there came an easterly breeze, followed by a stiff southerly gale,
which made him change his mind again. So are discoveries missed.

He ran on northward, merely catching glimpses, through scud and cloud,
of the North Island. Finally, at what is now North Cape, he discerned
to his joy a free passage to the east. He made one attempt to land, in
search of water, on a little group of islands hard by, which, as it
was Epiphany, he called Three Kings, after Caspar, Melchior, and
Balthasar. But the surf was rough and a throng of natives, striding
along, shaking spears and shouting with hoarse voices, terrified his
boat's crew. He gave up the attem