When the morning came, the mother went forth lamenting her son, and to burn her house and gardens, as a token of desolation. And so she came in front of the sacred place, where the people were assembled, who cried out to the ariki, "Alas! she has even reached our sacred spot." The chief, in answer, said, "Why do ye cry out? Is not the son of Apakura within your coco-nut food baskets?" After a time others said, "O! she is in the very marae itself. Alas! she has burnt it with fire!" Again the ariki spoke, "Why speaks the mouth? Is he not within your baskets?" Not one answered to that; all mouths were closed. After a time said one, "We are all partakers of the same sin." The ariki speaking, reproved them, " Ye are like green coco-nuts, and foolish withal—the high chiefs, the priests, the orators, the leaders, the lesser chiefs; indeed, even the very warriors. Not one has a word of wisdom; the whole land is in fear. Not one of us shall remain alive—not a single one—because amongst ye there is not one that can speak a word to save us. We shall serve—we shall be slaves." And their hearts all sank at those words.
And now Apakura returned to her home and took her clothes and rent them, tearing off a fragment, and dying it in tumeric, and blackened it with tuitui (candle nut). Then she passed through the length of the land, seeking aid to revenge the death of her son; but no one would receive her. Again she returned, and taking another fragment of her clothing, again dyed and blackened it, this time passing over the breadth of the land, from end to end, but no one would receive or listen to her mission.
Disappointed in obtaining the succour she sought, Apakura now crossed to Avaiki (Savāi'i) to the brave descendants of Tangaroa-maro-uka: to Te Ariki-taania, to Tama-te-uru-mongamonga and to Rae-noo-upoko, the first
