Rutherford, as his narrative shows, was ten years amongst the Maoris. He
was an ignorant sailor. He could not write, and the account of his
adventures, it is explained, was dictated to a friend while he was on
the voyage back to England. Craik says that if allowance is made for
some grammatical solecisms, the story, as it appeared in the manuscript,
was told with great clearness, and sometimes with considerable spirit.
Knight evidently knew him, as it is stated in "The New Zealanders" that
"the publisher of this volume had many conversations with him when he
was exhibited in London." It is probable, too, that Brougham knew him.
Brougham, indeed, may have "discovered" him and introduced him to
Knight. Rutherford was just the kind of man in whose company Brougham
delighted to spend hours. He would listen to the recital of the
thrilling adventures with the Maoris with breathless interest. A story
told of the madcap days of Brougham's youth gives some idea of the
welcome he would extend to Rutherford. One evening, after Brougham and
some other gay spirits had supped together in London, they saw a mob of
idle scoundrels beating an unfortunate woman with brutal ferocity. The
young fellows went to her rescue. Their interference increased the
tumult, and all the watchmen in the neighbourhood were soon about their
ears. In return for their chivalry they were lodged in the watch-house.
Amongst their fellow-prisoners there was an old sailor, who sat cowering
over the embers of the fire. He had been in the American War. Brougham
picked up an acquaintance with him, and all night long the young man
held the old one in conversation, ascertaining the strength of the
forces in the engagements, the scenes of the battles, the nature of the
manoeuvres, the advances and reverses, and so on, until his
avariciousness for knowledge was satisfied.

Neither Brougham nor Knight, nor even Craik, had sufficient means of