FOOTNOTES:[58]Autumn, 1907.
[58]Autumn, 1907.
[58]Autumn, 1907.
CHAPTER XIV
INDEPENDENCE AND ARGUMENT
Most people agree that the method adopted by the New Zealand Company in their anxiety to acquire land might have been improved upon, but few will deny them the credit which is theirs in the matter of actual colonisation. They were the first to colonise systematically; they were careful in the selection of their colonists, striving after the finer types of manhood; and they planted settlements with extraordinary rapidity, considering the difficulties of transit and transport.
It was the destiny of the Islands of the South to be colonised by the people of Great Britain and, since this was so, it was best that the infant colonies should be cared for by those capable of the task. Australia—in part—and Tasmania suffered from the obnoxious policy which used them as pits into which was swept the refuse of the British people. From this fate, its terrible results, and the long purification it necessitated, New Zealand happily escaped. That she did so was in no small measure due to the efforts of the Company, whose powerful Directors strenuously opposed the project in their day, just as the humaneimpulse of the British had opposed it in cannibal days.
The Company were very active in the first year of their existence. A twelvemonth after the founding of Wellington they had three new settlements to their credit and, before two years were out, they had added a fourth. There might have been a fifth, but, owing to the inability of the Company to furnish titles, only one shipload of immigrants disembarked at Manukau, and the idea of forming a settlement there was abandoned. Manukau is six miles west of, and almost opposite to, Auckland, to which it forms a second harbour, the land portage between the two inlets being barely a mile across.
Afraid to purchase land without a title, yet receiving from the Company the offer of no other in that locality, a couple of hundred immigrants removed themselves to Whanganui, on the west coast, one hundred and twenty miles north of Wellington. If the Company owned the land which the settlers took up there, the latter were hardly allowed to possess it in peace; for Whanganui was for years after its settlement in a state of unrest, and the pages of its history contain the record of at least one dreadful tragedy. The beautiful river—the Rhine of New Zealand—enters the sea close by the town, forming a waterway by which the Maori of the interior could easily approach and as easily withdraw; a condition of things of which they took full advantage in turbulent times. The Company's settlers called the town they founded "Petre," but the picturesque Maori name has survived.
The Company presently turned their attention to the Middle Island, and there decided upon two hundred thousand acres of land bordering Tasman Bay and its neighbourhood. The lots were eagerly bought in England; Captain Arthur Wakefield, R.N., a brother of the tactful Colonel, was appointed commander of the expedition and resident agent, and two shiploads of emigrants sailed for the new settlement, which was to be named Nelson.
While these preliminaries were being arranged, more immigrants arrived at Taranaki, or New Plymouth, the "Garden of New Zealand," where the Company claimed ownership of sixty miles of coast by a stretch of twenty miles inland. We saw this place when we stood with Te Turi and his followers and gazed from afar at the snowpeak of Mount Egmont. Hither, too, came Hongi and his conquering Nga-Puhi and, after him, Waikato's champion, Te Wherowhero of the red robe, who between them made an end of the men of Taranaki, enslaving those they left alive.
Even while the new arrivals were parcelling out the land and grumbling at the lack of a good harbour, back came the manumitted slaves, ancient owners of Taranaki, and stood aghast to see what changes time had wrought. Their feeble protest availed them nothing. Whether the Company had purchased the land or not, Governor Hobson now owned it under the Crown's right of preemption, and the poor men of Taranaki were forced to hide their twice diminished heads.
The ships bound for the Middle Island had bythis time arrived at Wellington, whence, after some delay, the immigrants were carried across the strait to Tasman Bay. The native chiefs courteously received them; but, when Captain Wakefield promised gifts as soon as the land bought by the Colonel should be occupied, the Maori stood silent. Had they said aught, it would probably have been a Maori version ofTimemus exules, et dona ferentes.
However, they professed to welcome the white men; whereupon the agent smiled, the anxious would-be settlers cheered, surveyors were landed, and the town of Nelson was founded on the 1st of February, 1842.
Do you who read remember how, when Hongi pressed him hard, Te Rauparaha of the Ngati-Toa fled headlong with his tribe along a path of blood to the south, and how he crossed the strait, and burned and slew and ate? He is still a force to be reckoned with, this Te Rauparaha. He is getting on in years, and lives with his tribe in the neighbourhood of Otaki on the west, north of Wellington. But he can look thence across the strait towards the lands he conquered not so long ago, and dissentingly shakes his head as the Nelson-bound ships pass on their way, while he openly expresses his disgust at the coming of so many more Pakeha.
As Captain Wakefield parted from the little warrior-diplomatist with the twinkling eyes and broad forehead, no prophetic vision came to him of the fearful scene to be enacted a year later in the valley of the Wairau, when the price of the land was to be exacted in blood—his own.
As at Wellington, as at Whanganui, as at Taranaki, so at Nelson disputes soon began between Maori and colonist, the theme being ever the ownership of the land. Words led to blows, blows to sullen mutterings ofutuand, so far as the Company's settlers were concerned, it seemed as if harmonious intercourse and continued agreement with the natives were outside the range of possible things.
While this bickering was going on, Governor Hobson had founded a town at his end of the North Island. Auckland he named the city in embryo;Akaranathe Maori called it; and from first to last the Company had nothing to do with it. They were, in fact, extremely jealous of its progress.
The site of a capital had not been selected till then. The seat of government was where the Governor happened to reside; but a spot was chosen at the head of the beautiful Hauraki Gulf, where the British flag was hoisted on the 18th of September, 1840, and the Governor's residence established at what has grown to be the splendid city of Auckland.
A finer or more charming situation could hardly have been found than this on the right of the Waitemata, or "Glittering Water," with the superb Hauraki Gulf to the east, the harbour of Manukau to the west, and waterways in all directions to the south. How wise was this choice of a site is proved to-day by the great and prosperous city, in touch with all the world, which now gives a home to eighty thousand of Britain's sons.
There was clamour over the Governor's selection.Wellington urged its elder birth, its central position, its magnificent harbour; but Captain Hobson abode by his choice. Russell, hard by Kororareka, made bitter plaint; for the glory of becoming the chief city of the State had been dangled before it, and visions of political prominence had intoxicated it. Now that its chance was irretrievably gone, the fickle crowd deserted it and pitched their tents in Auckland. So Russell wilted away. Once again it was to blaze into brief, and rather ghastly, notoriety, and then to sink into oblivion.
While these rival cities were in the making, Captain Hobson rigorously enforced the right of the Crown to be the sole purchaser of land from the natives, and set going the examination into purchases already made. As usual, the innocent suffered with the guilty, and many who had bought land in perfect good faith found their purchases diminished by half, or altogether invalid.
These were consequently ruined; but their sufferings did not affect the forward movement. Systematic colonisation had begun, and in the capable hands of the Anglo-Saxon was bound to go on. A check here, a dispute there, a few hundred ruined in the process, never yet stopped the expansion of the British Empire, and, unless the character of her sons changes greatly, never will.
Queen Victoria's sovereignty over the islands was formally proclaimed in 1840 and, before the end of 1842, eleven thousand settlers had cast their fortunes in the colony, distributing themselves among the eight settlements of Wellington, Auckland, Nelson, Taranaki (New Plymouth), Russell (or Kororareka), Hokianga, Whanganui, and Akaroa, which was largely French.
The long civil war originated by Hongi was now over, the Maori were looking favourably upon the white men, and were growing inclined to adopt their ways and imitate their methods. Yet, though Christianity and its milder influences were spreading, the brown men had still to tread a long path before they reached the goal of civilisation. The Pakeha appreciated this, and noted with apprehension that the Maori seldom visited the settlements unless armed with the guns which the folly or greed of commercial adventurers had placed within their reach.
Yet "ever upon the topmost roof our banner of England blew," and, as ship followed ship, bringing new settlers, every day saw the Pakeha grow stronger, though the natives were still predominant.
A new country is usually "go-ahead," but New Zealand was remarkably so, nor has she in this respect ever fallen short of her beginning.
Within a year of her "declaration of independence," though things were very much in the rough, there was promise of that colonial splendour which has since—in the short space of sixty-eight years—been amply fulfilled.
The difficulties were grave indeed. The land question was a source of constant friction, and of ready money there was little or none. Notwithstanding fairly substantial help from the mothercountry, in spite of the newly imposed customs dues and the sale of Crown lands, the new country's imports surpassed the exports nearly ten times over. No wonder money was scarce and, owing to the paucity of meat other than pork, food very dear.
But these drawbacks could not stifle enthusiasm, and in each of the towns—now rapidly casting behind them the character of mere settlements—growth was steady, and the energy of the inhabitants astonishing.
The mineral wealth of the colony was attracting attention—iron, copper, manganese, coal and lime were known to exist; the great variety of magnificent timber trees promised to become an important source of revenue, and New Zealand flax had already established a reputation which it has never lost. The character of the land in parts was such as led some even then to prophesy that New Zealand would become one of the grazing grounds of the world; though it is doubtful if the prophets foresaw the immense revenue which was to be derived later from the exportation of meat for consumption by the hungry folk in the northern hemisphere. With the future so rose-tinted, it is no wonder that the shadows of the present had little power to depress the sanguine colonists.
The Legislative Council had lost no time in passing beneficial Acts, the citizens were inclined to be law-abiding, and trade, of a sort, flourished. The architecture in the towns was not exactly classic; but all looked confidently forward to the time when the weather-board house with from two to six roomsshould be replaced by the mansion, and the tiny general store make way for the splendid palace of the merchant prince. Compare pictures of a street in Auckland or Wellington in 1842 with photographs of the same street to-day, and admit that the expectation has been fulfilled.
The children who had accompanied their parents to the new land were not allowed to run wild, and education was not entirely neglected. The power of the Press, too, had already made itself felt by the issue of nine newspapers. These had neither the dignity nor the imposing size of the mighty dailies of to-day, being for the most part smaller than a single page of any of them, while one, at least, was printed in a mangle! Yet there they were and, if most of them died, they have left descendants to be proud of.
Keeping in view that these forward steps of the infant colony were made within one year of her assumption of independence, that the colonists had to struggle against real financial troubles, that, in many cases, their claim to the land they had bought was disputed, and—most sinister obstacle of all—that they were face to face with a proud, intellectual, warlike race, not altogether friendly, and outnumbering them by five to one,—keeping all this in view, is it not admirable that those strenuous men of yesterday and their worthy descendants of to-day should, in little more than half a century, have raised New Zealand from a tiny colony of eight scattered settlements to a dominion of the Empire?
We have seen how Governor Hobson opposedwhat he held to be the illegal acts of a Company engineered by men not likely to take blows "lying down." The Directors in England represented their case as just, and claimed some twenty million acres as fairly purchased. The British Government accepted their statement, allowed the claim, and on the 12th of February, 1841, gave the Company a Royal Charter of Incorporation.
The Company were jubilant. It now mattered not if grumbling Maori should declare that their lands had been unfairly acquired, and aver, as they did aver, that the purchases of the Company were "thievish bargains"; the power of Britain was behind the Company, who could henceforth defy opponents of whatever colour.
Not quite. There was Governor Hobson to be reckoned with, and his counterblast was terribly effective. He refused—under the proclamation of the previous year—to give the Company Crown grants for any of their purchases.
The long wrangle began again, and the upshot of it all was that, after interminable argument, the British Government peremptorily extinguished the Company's title to all land acquired from the Maori, and a commissioner was appointed to examine all claims of purchasers of land from the Company. There could be only one result to action of this sort. The Company fought hard for existence, but in 1850 surrendered to the Imperial Government their charter and all their interests in the Colony of New Zealand, and died hard after a turbulent life.
We have anticipated somewhat, for we are still at the point where the Company received a Charter of Incorporation. But the exultation of the Company was as nothing beside that of the young colony on the 3rd of May, 1841, when New Zealand, till then but an extension of New South Wales, was declared by the Imperial Government independent of the older colony, and given permission to steer her own course through the difficult shallows of organisation to the distant ocean of completion and greatness.
In the first flush of joy at escaping from control, very little heed was taken of difficulties. It seemed as if the infant State had only waited for its independence in order to make a forward bound; for all that pertained to the old order of things was, as far as possible, swept away.
The three islands were renamed New Ulster, New Munster, and New Leinster. The Governor became Commander-in-Chief of the one hundred and fifty men of the 80th Regiment who formed the "standing army." Two Councils were nominated—an Executive and a Legislative, with His Excellency at the head of each; a Chief Justice was appointed and the great offices of the Law filled; while the then predominance of the Church of England was recognised by the creation of a bishop, whose see was the colony.
The first bishop, Dr. Selwyn, was a remarkable man, and it is probable that among all the English clergy no one could have been found so well suited for the pioneer work and rough experiences inseparable from the lot of the first Bishop of New Zealand. He was in very truth a missionary bishop, and his athletic youth and manhood had served to prepare him for the duties he was now called upon to perform, which were by no means confined to the wearing of lawn sleeves, gaiters, and apron.
Dr. Selwyn's Eton training stood him in good stead in the wilds, and very soon after his arrival in May, 1842, he convinced men that he was a man as well as a divine. Who worked with Selwyn must work with all their might; nor did he shirk his own share. He worked with his coat off, literally as well as metaphorically, though no man living possessed a finer dignity of appearance and manner. Hardy settlers, Maori inured to effort and fatigue, confessed that, when they accompanied the stalwartpikopo(bishop) on his expeditions by mountain, bush, or river, it was their legs, not his, which first gave out, their muscular frames which clamoured for rest, while his was as yet untired.
As an example of his energy, it is only necessary to point out that, within five years of his arrival, he founded, built, and got into first-rate working order at Auckland the College of St. John, for the education of youth of both races, and had already instituted those pilgrimages among the islands which later made his name so famous and beloved.
The rejoicings over New Zealand's improved status were barely over before there were ominous signs that contact with his white brother had not yet completely softened the Maori. Moreover, a dispute between two Maori tribes, occurring, as it did, underthe very shadow of the new Executive, showed that the chiefs were not yet wholly prepared to acknowledge the sovereignty of Britain, nor to tolerate the interference of the Pakeha in their own quarrels.
Taraia, a chief of a tribe in the neighbourhood of the Thames river, having successfully assaulted thepaof a Tauranga tribe, cooked and ate the bodies of two of the slain chiefs, after the old manner of the Maori at the conclusion of a successful battle.
The Tauranga folk were Christians, while Taraia and his party were not. Returning home, drunk with success—the Maori were not often drunk with the products of grape or corn—Taraia and his people desecrated the small church in their neighbourhood. The Christian congregation were gathered together for evening prayer when, to the horror of all, two hideous objects rolled into their midst, came to rest and grinned up at them. They were the heads of the chiefs who had been slain at Tauranga.
Bloodthirsty as he must appear to those long since emerged from savagery, Taraia's behaviour at thepaof Erongo was neither savage nor illegal from his point of view. He merely claimedutu, as his race had done from time immemorial, his contention being that, whatever the law of the white man, the Maori had their own law and meant to abide by it. He actually put his views before the Governor, who was about to despatch a punitive expedition, and demanded by what right His Excellency proposed to interfere in a purely native quarrel. "Your wisest plan will be to let the matter drop," advised Taraia, "considering how very few Maori chiefs in theinterior have signed the Treaty of Waitangi and admitted the sovereignty of Queen Wikitoria."
This was a palpable hit; the Governor altered his mind, and sent missionaries instead of soldiers. Taraia readily expressed his willingness to compensate the Tauranga people for the slaughter of their relatives; "but first," said he, "let them compensate me. Did they not eat my mother?" The argument was incontrovertible, and the dreadful incident closed.
Taraia's defiance took on a new significance when it was realised how many chiefs were opposed to the dominion of the Pakeha. Besides, numbers of Maori in the north remembered the words of the dying Hongi, and viewed with sullen disapproval the transference of so much land to the white men. Captain Hobson had neither the will nor the power to operate upon a large scale and so enforce submission, and his disappointment at the failure of his hopes was keen indeed.
The Governor's pacific demeanour pleased nobody; and even in Auckland, where his attitude towards the Company had at first won him general esteem, men now turned upon him and blamed his policy for almost every disagreeable thing which happened. "He will neither allow the Company to buy from the natives, nor will he himself buy," they snarled; and petitions, representations to the Home Government, and even threats of personal violence, made the Governor's life miserable.
He was not long so tried, for he died on the 10th of September, 1842, and after his death some, atleast, had the grace to be ashamed of their behaviour towards a man who had honestly striven to do his best in a most difficult situation. The Maori, with clearer vision than the self-swayed Pakeha, saw the good that was in Captain Hobson. It is significant that, when petitioning Her Majesty for a new Governor, the friendly chiefs wrote, "Give us a good man, like him who is dead."
CHAPTER XV
TE RAUPARAHA AND HONI HEKE
Captain Hobson was succeeded as Acting-Governor by Lieutenant Shortland, R.N., the Colonial Secretary, whose administration was marked by one awful tragedy, which stained blood-red the short chapter of New Zealand's history with which he was concerned.
At Nelson, as over the whole of the Company's domain, disputes constantly arose between Maori and Pakeha. The Company's settlers appealed to the law, which had little choice but to decide against them; the natives went about their operations in a manner peculiar to themselves.
Finding it impossible to prevent the newcomers from occupying land which they insisted had been bought, the Maori took to destroying the habitations of the invaders, though they rarely used violence towards individuals, and scrupulously abstained from theft. It was unlikely that this system of incessant pin-pricking by either side would result in anything but poisoned wounds, and the fears of those who had anticipated this result presently received fearful justification.
The turbulent Te Rauparaha was, by right ofconquest, one of the great landowners on the southern side of the strait, and with him was his son-in-law, Rangihaeata, a chief of fierce, untamed passions, obsessed by an intense, almost insane, hatred of the Pakeha, and the last man to submit tamely to their aggression. Rangihaeata had, too, a bitter grievance against the whites, since a woman related to him had been killed by a settler, whom the Supreme Court acquitted of wilful murder. With two such men in opposition to the business-like unsentimental Company, a peaceful solution of the difficult land question was not likely to be found.
Some sixty miles east of Nelson is the fertile valley of the Wairau, abutting on the shores of Cloudy Bay. Having distributed the town sections at Nelson, the Company decided upon this valley as suitable for country lots, and sent their surveyors to fix boundaries and prepare the land for delivery to colonists. Though instantly warned off by the natives occupying the land, the Company's officials proceeded with their work.
What makes the singular persistence of the Company in this case so difficult to understand is the fact that Te Rauparaha and his ally, Rangihaeata, were at that very time attending the Court of the Commissioner of Land Claims at Wellington, and they had agreed to meet this high functionary a few days later at Cloudy Bay, in order that the dispute about this particular valley might be adjusted. Naturally, on hearing of the presence of surveyors on the land they regarded as their own, the two chiefs hastened across the strait and gave the officials thechoice between suspending operations, pending the Commissioner's decision, or being turned off.
As no attention was paid to them, Rauparaha and Rangihaeata burned down the hut of the chief surveyor; but, in order to show that they had no desire to deal unjustly with men who were, after all, only carrying out their employers' orders, the two Maori collected the property of the operators and rendered it to the owners. A warrant against the chiefs for robbery and arson was immediately issued, and Mr. Thompson, the police magistrate, determined to execute the same in person.
A day or two later Mr. Thompson started for the Wairau with fifty persons, including the Company's agent, Captain Wakefield, R.N.; Captain England, J.P.; Mr. Richardson, Crown Prosecutor; Mr. Howard, the Company's store-keeper; Mr. Cotterell, assistant surveyor; an interpreter, four constables, twelve special constables, and some armed labourers. The aspect of the expedition was aggressive, and from the Maori point of view constituted ataua, or war-party.
As the boats conveying the force up the Wairau river came within hostile country, all through the long day Maori scouts watched their course, and runners continually sped to the headquarters of the chiefs, carrying the news of the approach of Pakeha with guns.
On the following day, Friday, the 16th of June, 1843, the Maori camp was reached and, as usual, was found to have been chosen with consummate skill; for its front was protected by a fairly deep, if narrowstream, while the flanks and rear were covered by dense scrub.
The white men—whose boats had been left some six miles in their rear—halted upon the left bank, opposite to the watchful Maori. Puaha, a Christian native, who had all along attempted to dissuade Mr. Thompson from bearding Te Rauparaha in his den, made a last effort to induce the magistrate to turn back, but was impatiently waved aside. The escort were then formed in two divisions under Captain England and Mr. Howard, their instructions being that no one was to fire without orders.
Athwart the stream lay a large canoe and, being permitted to use this as a bridge, Mr. Thompson, Captain Wakefield and others crossed over. The magistrate then produced his warrant and called upon Te Rauparaha to surrender and yield to his authority.
"Why so?" demanded the chief.
"For burning the surveyor's hut," was the answer.
"I will not," replied Te Rauparaha. "The huts were my property, and whatever within them belonged to the surveyors I was careful to restore. I do not wish to fight, as you must know, since I have already referred my claim to the Commissioner for adjustment."
"Then I shall compel you to come with me," Mr. Thompson cried excitedly. "I have the means, you see," and he pointed to the escort across the stream.
Te Rauparaha growled. "Nevertheless, I will not go," he began, when Rangihaeata, his passion instrong contrast to Te Rauparaha's coolness, burst into view and dared Mr. Thompson to do his worst.
"Advance with your men, Captain England," shouted Mr. Thompson, "and teach these——"
Before he could say more every Maori there leaped to his feet, and with defiant shouts vanished into the bush.
Then followed one of those fatal errors by which great catastrophes have often been precipitated. As Mr. Thompson's party hurried towards the canoe-bridge, the escort rushing down to meet them, some one—probably highly excited and unconscious of what he was about—fired a shot.
Not a Maori was to be seen; but from the dark scrub came a rattling volley, which was instantly responded to by the whites. The action at once became general, and men fell on both sides of the stream. According to the natives' version, one of the first to be slain—by a chance shot—was one of Rangihaeata's wives, and this misfortune inflamed to madness the already incensed chief.
The escort was mostly composed of civilians who had never seen a shot fired in anger, so that it is less remarkable that they should have yielded to panic fear and fled, leaving their comrades to shift for themselves. Had they even for a few minutes shown a bold front, the affair would probably have ended disastrously, but not so tragically.
But the chance was gone; and when Rauparaha and Rangihaeata—the battle fever on them now—rushed pell-mell over the canoe and made for thedeserted leaders, these had no choice but to throw down their arms and yield to a superior force.
Te Rauparaha, who was somewhat in advance, checked his rush as he noted this, and Mr. Thompson, extending empty hands, called out, "Let there be peace!"
Diplomatist that he was, Te Rauparaha, even in the flush of successful fight, probably realised the danger to the Maori cause which further violence must entail; for he came to a halt with a growl, "It is peace!"
But Rangihaeata dashed by him, yelling, "This is the second time the Pakeha have wounded me by slaying my relatives. Rauparaha, remember my wife, your daughter!" flung himself at Captain England and slew him with one stroke of his tomahawk.
Then the rage of the Maori broke forth in all its dreadful force. Rangihaeata, an enormously powerful man, went mad with battle fury and with his own hand killed Captain Wakefield, Mr. Thompson, Mr. Richardson, Mr. Cotterell, John Brooks, and others, while his men rushed right and left among the defenceless crowd and smote to slay.
Twenty-two of Mr. Thompson's expedition were slain in this terrible affair, seventeen of them in the massacre which followed the fight. A few days later a Wesleyan clergyman, escorted by two boats' crews of whalers, arrived at the scene of the tragedy, and buried the dead who had fallen in the fight where they lay on the banks of the Tau Marina. For the others, who had gone down before the murderousrage of Rangihaeata, another resting-place was chosen on a gentle rise, whence can be seen the valley of the Wairau, cause of all the trouble and its melancholy end.
There could be only one issue to an affair of this sort. The prestige of the white men was lost for the time being, and the Maori mind became inflamed with hope that the Pakeha would realise the futility of further contention, and leave the land to those who had originally owned it.
The colonists were divided in opinion as to the apportionment of the blame. In and about Nelson there was, of course, only one view; but the local authorities were elsewhere censured for their too precipitate action. The Acting-Governor, reporting the affair to the British Government, distinctly stated that Mr. Thompson had acted not only without his sanction, but in direct opposition to his instructions; that the measures taken were in the highest degree unjustifiable, inasmuch as the question of ownership of the Wairau land was unsettled, and actually on the point of being considered by the Commissioner.
All this is true; but no one will feel disposed to blame the rash Englishmen, considering the price they paid for their indiscretion, while, all other sentiments apart, nothing bad enough can be said of Rangihaeata for his savage slaughter of a band of helpless men—men who had flung down their arms and begged for peace.
When the news of the Wairau fight and massacre reached England, a condition of mind was producedsomething similar to that which followed the arrival of Crozet in France after the murder of Marion. Emigration was for a time suspended; for Te Rauparaha's threat, that if reprisals were attempted, they would be countered by the massacre of every settler in the colony, did not encourage those who had thought of making New Zealand their home.
To all this confusion of circumstance was added the distress of something very like a financial crisis. The colony had no money, and lenders were nowhere forthcoming. There were many brave hearts who faced these and other difficulties staunchly enough; but even these admitted that New Zealand, as a settler's country, was in a parlous state, and that very little capital except Hope remained upon which to come and go.
It was hardly to be expected that those who had acquired land under the Company should see eye to eye with those who argued that, even after an affair so shocking as that of the Wairau, the Maori had still a claim to receive justice at the hands of the Pakeha. So, when the new Governor, Captain Robert Fitzroy, R.N., personally inquired into the incident, seven months after its occurrence, it was not wonderful that the address which the colonists presented to him at Wellington should have been charged with the gall of bitterness. Nor was it surprising that the natives, on their part, should have accused their white neighbours of studied hostility towards them. Lastly, when it was understood that the Governor laid the weight of the blame upon the Company and their settlers, and almost exoneratedTe Rauparaha and Rangihaeata, the indignation of the former knew no bounds, and was expressed in language both foolish and unjust.
Captain Fitzroy undoubtedly decided according to his conscience, and with a view to safeguard the interests of the colonists, whom he correctly judged to be too weak to risk a conflict with well-armed natives, thoroughly versed in their own methods of warfare. Unfortunately, the Governor's choice of words when conveying his decision, while it irritated the whites, conveyed to the Maori an impression that fear, not policy, had dictated clemency, and their bearing in consequence became arrogant.
The Maori were now alive to the value of their land, and of money as a purchasing agent. Skilled mind-readers, they played upon the Governor's fears, and compelled him to allow the colonists to buy land direct from them instead of through the Crown. Captain Fitzroy yielded; but, as he endeavoured to compromise by extracting a tax on every acre purchased, the Maori did not make as much as they had hoped to make, and the unfortunate Viceroy again managed to please nobody. What between the Maori, who used him for their own ends, and the colonists, who called him mad, the Governor's lot was anything but happy.
For all their shrewdness and intelligence, the Maori were not yet sufficiently educated in the ways of the Pakeha to appreciate the niceties of civil government, which, it seemed to them, drove away the flourishing trade which had been theirs while yet their ports were all in their own hands, and whenevery port was free. These sentiments, skilfully fostered by unscrupulous traders, paved the way for an outbreak. And as Kororareka had furnished excuse for the establishment of British sovereignty, so it now provided an occasion of war, and witnessed the first determined act of opposition to the power of the British rule.
It was a bitter blow to traders, who had been accustomed to traffic without let or hindrance in the Bay of Islands, to find Kororareka flaunting the British flag and demanding customs dues. Nor were the Maori any more contented; for they had now to pay a higher price for tobacco, blankets, and other luxuries which they had once acquired so cheaply. Therefore, since political economy was still beyond them, they looked elsewhere for the explanation of the change, and found it—in the flagstaff on the hill outside Kororareka.
The flag which floated there was indeed the symbol of British authority, and on that account sufficiently hated by the more intelligent of the patriotic Maori, who desired to preserve their independence; but among the ignorant natives there were not a few who were convinced that the flagstaff itself was the very cause of the customs dues and the irritating restrictions placed upon trade.
Therefore, when Honi (John) Heke, who had married the beautiful daughter of the famous Hongi Ika, announced his intention of cutting down the hated staff, he did not lack volunteers to help him in what he, at least, intended as a deliberate defiance of Britain. For Honi Heke was far too astute to lookupon the flagstaff as anything but what it was—a wooden pole.
Under the old Maori law a woman who married beneath her raised her husband to her level; wherefore Honi Heke, though not himself a chief, became elevated to the ranks of the aristocracy upon his marriage with the "daughter of a hundred earls." The upstart was not received with open arms by the true nobility, though they tolerated him for his father-in-law's sake. Had he been one of themselves, and thus able to command their allegiance, Heke, skilled as he was in war, might have brought the hated Pakeha face to face with fearful odds and, perhaps, changed the course of history in New Zealand.
Heke, like his predecessor Hongi, was a born soldier. In his boyhood he fell into Mr. Marsden's hands, who took him to Sydney and endeavoured to teach him a trade. But trade was not for Heke, who was often found in the barrack-square feasting his eyes upon the soldiers, and keenly watching their drill. Association with Mr. Marsden and the tuition he received from the missionary enabled Heke to read and write, and developed a mind already dangerously rich in qualities which make for leadership.
Returning to his native land, Heke joined himself to Hongi, who, finding him an apt pupil, gladly instructed him in a sterner science than any which good Mr. Marsden had taught him. So pleased was Hongi with his protégé that he gave him his daughter in marriage, and it was upon Heke that the greatchief's dying eyes were turned when he faltered out his last advice to his followers and bade them beware of the Pakeha in red. Deep into Heke's heart sank that advice, and it was with Hongi's "word" upon his lips that he struck his first blow against the might of Britain.
But he had a yet more sinister word of his own for the ears of the Pakeha, hardly recovered from the shock of the Wairau massacre. "Is Te Rauparaha to have all the honour of killing the Pakeha?" he exclaimed as he marched his men to the flagstaff hill. "We shall see!"
This insulting speech was, perhaps, uttered deliberately, in order to sting the Kororarekans into resistance, and thus provide Heke with excuse and opportunity to rival the southern leader. If that were so, he was disappointed; for, at the earnest insistence of the Police Magistrate, the residents looked on from afar while Heke and his two hundred malcontents hewed down the obnoxious staff and carried off the signal balls, used to communicate with shipping outside the bay.
Wroth at this reception of his policy of conciliation, Captain Fitzroy sent an urgent appeal for help to the Governor of New South Wales. The answer came at once and, less than five weeks after the fall of the flagstaff, one hundred and fifty men of the 99th Regiment, with two field guns, landed at Kororareka and encamped there. H.M.S.Hazardpresently lent all the sailors who could be spared, and the little army prepared to invade Heke's country.
And now the little influence which Hongi's son-in-law possessed over the great chiefs was speedily and fortunately demonstrated. Instead of flocking to his aid, the high chiefs besought the Governor not to engage in war, and offered to keep Heke in order for the future. They probably overestimated their power in this direction; but the Governor was satisfied, and Thomas Walker Nene and twenty-three other chiefs of note made orations at a greatkorero,[59]and declared their loyalty to Queen Wikitoria.
The flagstaff was then re-erected, the borrowed troops returned to Sydney, Kororareka was again made a free port and, as the year 1844 drew to a close, the country reeled to the very edge of the pit of bankruptcy.
Extraordinary efforts were made to avert this calamity. Auckland, like Kororareka, was declared a free port, thousands of pounds' worth of debentures were issued and declared a legal tender and, as a last resource, the Governor abolished the customs dues all over the colony.
It seemed as if no one, either on the spot or in England, quite knew what to do for or with New Zealand and, to crown all the trouble, the sempiternal land question once more poked up its ugly head. The natives grew suspicious and resentful; settlers were ejected and their homes destroyed, on the ground that they occupied debatable land, or land actually claimed by the Maori, and everywhere was unrest and apprehension.
Heke, who knew very much better, pointed to the flagstaff at Kororareka as the cause of all thisworry and, barely six months after his first exploit, back he came with his merry men, and for the second time levelled the detested pole. Though he was not expected—as he had been on the first occasion,—the signal station was guarded by friendly natives. These, however, belonged to the tribe of the turbulent Heke; so they merely made a show of resistance, and retired to protest that it would have been a sin and a shame to shed any man's blood for the sake of a bit of wood. So Honi Heke triumphed for the second time.
The belligerent operations at Kororareka had so far been in themselves, apart from their consequences, somewhat farcical; but the "curtain-raisers" were over, and tragic drama was to be presented after an interval of little more than a month.
Note.—The private soldiers, who found a nickname for everybody, styled Honi Heke "Johnny Hicky." From this arose an absurd story that Heke was an Irishman, who had taken service with the Maori in order to avenge his country's wrongs!
Note.—The private soldiers, who found a nickname for everybody, styled Honi Heke "Johnny Hicky." From this arose an absurd story that Heke was an Irishman, who had taken service with the Maori in order to avenge his country's wrongs!
FOOTNOTES:[59]"Palaver."
[59]"Palaver."
[59]"Palaver."
CHAPTER XVI
THE FALL OF KORORAREKA
Governor Fitzroy once again appealed to New South Wales for aid and, on the very day on which the soldiers sailed from Sydney, Heke opened his campaign and scored his first success at Kororareka.
A serious attack does not seem to have been anticipated; but a stockade had been erected for the benefit of the women and children, some light guns had been mounted, and the place garrisoned by half a company of regulars and a number of settlers. In addition, H.M.S.Hazardwas in the bay, her guns trained upon the approaches to the town.
Heke first gave evidence of his presence by capturing Lieutenant G. Phillpotts of theHazard, though he almost immediately released the gallant officer, in proof, he said, of his pacific intentions. Then, in spite of the watch kept upon his movements, the Maori warrior out-generalled the watchers, and sprung a surprise upon the town.
Late on the night of the 10th of March, 1845, two columns of Maori under Heke and old Kawiti—Hongi's fighting chief—landed at Onoroa and Matavia, close by Kororareka. Heke ambushedhis men amid the deep fern in rear of Signal Hill, almost within touch of the blockhouse, while Kawiti disposed his party about the Matavia Pass, on the opposite side of the town. So quietly were these manœuvres executed, that neither the soldiers in the upper blockhouse, nor the sailors under Captain Robertson of theHazardon the Matavia side, nor the civilians in the stockade and lower blockhouse had any idea that they were ringed round by a cordon of fighting men under two of the most experienced warriors of their day. Not by the slightest sound did the Maori indicate their presence; not even for the sake of capturing one of the officers who walked through their lines, wholly unsuspicious of their proximity. It was Heke's intention to surprise his foes, and he succeeded perfectly.
As day broke, cloudy and raw, on the 11th, the lieutenant of the regulars went to the barracks to turn out his men. His second in command, a young ensign, who was in charge of the upper blockhouse, by the flagstaff, thereupon left his post under guard of a corporal and fifteen men, and proceeded with a few soldiers to complete an earthwork overlooking Onoroa Bay. Captain Robertson occupied a similar position on an opposite hill overlooking Matavia Bay.
No sooner was the ensign out of sight than a sham attack was begun on the Matavia side, and the young soldier very properly fell back towards the blockhouse. At the same moment the corporal, believing his officer trapped, left three or four men in the blockhouse, and raced with the rest to the ensign's support. He soon realised that the firingwas from the Matavia side of the town, wheeled his men and hurried back towards Signal Hill.
But a cloud of Maori sprang without the least warning from the fern and, yelling discordantly, began to harass the little company. Others rushed the blockhouse and slew the few defenders, while their heavy fire convinced the corporal that to regain the place was impossible, and that his wisest move would be to join forces with the ensign. He effected this; but when the officer endeavoured to retake the blockhouse, he was not only held off by the captors of the post, but had much ado to break through the Maori who were stealing round to cut him off from the lower blockhouse.
The action had by this time become general, and the British, though fighting bravely, were getting the worst of it, owing to inferiority of numbers and lack of ammunition.
The British fought sturdily and with dogged persistence, after their usual fashion, and the Maori, brave themselves, never hesitated to give credit to their valorous foes. For years after this historic engagement they told the story of Captain Robertson's fight, how he felled with his own hand five stalwart Maori, one of them a chief of note. Then the gallant sailor dropped to the ground, sorely wounded, while Lieutenant Barclay very reluctantly fell back just in time upon the town, and thence reached the lower blockhouse.
For the Maori had seized the barracks and, surging round the blockhouse, threatened to make an end. But the "Tommies" and the "handy men"were not yet done with, and these, sweeping out without orders, cleared their front of the triumphant foe.
"So all day long the noise of battle rolled"; but nightfall saw the town evacuated, and the women and children safe on board theHazardand other ships in harbour, whose crews had looked on wonderingly at the success of primitive warriors against disciplined soldiers. Numbers must always count for something; but the "way of the Britisher," which is ever to underrate a foe, particularly if he be of dark complexion, accounts for the success of the Maori that day.
Victory was no sooner assured than the Maori swept down upon the town, looted and burnt it to ashes. Yet so generous—or so stupid, from the soldiers' point of view—were they that they allowed many of the townspeople, with whom they considered they had no quarrel, to take what goods they could and go unhindered. It was as if they had said, "Our dispute is with the authorities. Go you in peace, and learn that the savage Maori can be as chivalrous as the civilised Briton."
Were there present at the sack of the town any of the grosser sort of Maori, who might have been inclined to defy their chiefs and commit those excesses too often associated with the victory of the savage, there were yet two men there to hold their passions in check. For, in and out of the flaming houses, and here and there among the wounded, unmoved by the riot and confusion around them, went all day long Bishop Selwyn of the English and Bishop Pompallier of the Catholic Church, their differences forgot asthey united in acts of Christian charity and corporal works of mercy.
So fell Kororareka, with the loss of a dozen killed and a score or so wounded on the side of the defenders, while the Maori lost—so they said—ten or twelve more. But, in addition, the town was destroyed, and along with it fifty thousand pounds' worth of property. It was a signal triumph for Heke and Kawiti, and, worse than all, it taught the Maori to disbelieve in the invincibility of the Pakeha.
So fell Kororareka, one of the oldest settlements—if not the oldest—in New Zealand; nor were there wanting those who averred that the place had brought its fate upon itself and, like a latter-day "city of the plain," thoroughly deserved its downfall.
CHAPTER XVII
HEKE AND KAWITI ON THE WARPATH
Kororareka was done with; but not so Honi Heke, outlawed now with his comrade old Kawiti, and the whites around Auckland went in terror of the victorious pair. For Heke had threatened to assault the capital at the next full moon. Some watched for his coming as apprehensively as did ever Roman for the approach of Lars Porsena and his Etruscans, while to others the mention of the Black Douglas was not more prophetic of disaster than was that of Honi Heke. Many of these last migrated to more peaceful shores, despairing of rest anywhere in the land where the Maori were predominant.
After all, Heke never came. The Maori leader had his hands full; for Tomati Waka Nene, throwing in his lot with the British, marched into Heke's country, and kept the victor busy while the Pakeha drew breath.
The Governor, worried almost out of his senses by the bitter attacks made upon him, hurriedly collected all the soldiers who could be spared and despatched them under the command of Colonel Hulme of the 99th Regiment to the support ofWaka Nene. The expedition reached the Bay of Islands on the 28th of April, 1845, a guard of honour disembarked, and the British flag was once more hoisted over what remained of Kororareka.
Then came Waka Nene, advising immediate advance upon Heke, to which Colonel Hulme agreed; but he made before starting one of those errors which have more than once lowered our character for absolutely fair dealing in the eyes of native races. The chief, Pomare, was taken prisoner under a flag of truce and packed off to Auckland, while hispawas burnt. It is useless to reproach savages with treachery if we ourselves are guilty of it. When the story came to his ears, the much-abused Governor released Pomare with an apology, and soothed his injured feelings by the gift of a sailing-boat, always a delightful present to a Maori.
Heke had established himself at Te Ahuahu, not far from Okaihau, in apabelonging to Kawiti; and here he waited till early in May for Colonel Hulme, whose force of white men, swollen by the addition of seamen and marines from theHazard, had increased to four hundred. Heke was said to have twelve hundred fighting men; but Waka Nene's eight hundred "friendlies" equalised matters as far as numbers went.
As soon as Heke had ascertained that Colonel Hulme had left Auckland, he withdrew from Te Ahuahu and built a newpanear Taumata Tutu, significantly enough, on the spot where the famous Hongi had spoken his last "word" to his people.Thispahe named Te Kahika, or the "White PinePa."
There was a good deal of the pagan left in Heke, or, at least, he still preserved a considerable respect for the old religion. It is, therefore, not wonderful that Te Atua Wera, the famoustohungaof the Nga-Puhi, should have been with him in camp, or that the commander should have prayed the magician to put heart into his men. This Te Atua Wera proceeded to do very diplomatically, advising the pagans to stick to paganism, the Christians to Christianity, and impressing upon each the absolute necessity for making no mistakes. "Do nothing," he cautioned, "to make the European God angry, and be careful not to offend the Maori gods. It is good to have more than one god to trust to." On these conditions he promised success and guaranteed to turn aside the shot from the big guns.
There were no big guns, as it happened; for when Colonel Hulme's column arrived at Okaihau on the 7th of May, they had only a few rockets. It was resolved to use these for the moral effect it was hoped they would produce.
Waka Nene's Maori had mounted a white headband to distinguish them from the foe; but, as a matter of fact, they took little part in the conflict, their superstitious fears having been aroused by the carelessness of the soldiers and sailors regarding omens.
"They are eating their breakfast standing up!" one Maori exclaimed in horror. "Don't they know how unlucky it is to eat standing just before a battle?"
"They have notohungawith them," another remarked, shaking his head. "I threw arakau(divining dart) for them this morning," a third said gloomily, "and it turned wrong side up as it fell. Many will die to-day."
"True," assented a fourth. "Look at them now. They are carrying litters, as if they were already dead. They ought to be told how unlucky that is."
And Nene's fighting chiefs did actually warn the British officers that they were behaving very foolishly and, being laughed at for their pains, begged the soldiers to throw away the litters, by carrying which they were really asking for death. But the soldiers, too, laughed and marched on, as the Maori fully believed, to their death.
This was too much for the friendlies. "We are not going to take part in a funeral procession," they declared and, with the exception of a score or two of Nene's relations, withdrew to the top of Taumata Kakaramu, a neighbouring hill, to watch the fight.
"If the soldiers win to-day," they declared, "we will always help them. But how can they possibly win?"
The reasons given by the friendlies for their abstention were genuine; but underlying them was another, unconfessed. Like those with Heke, they were Nga-Puhi, and in times of stress the claims of kinship have a way of making themselves heard.
Heke had taken the precaution to cover the roofs within thepawith flax to protect them from the sparks of the rockets, and the first of these presently came roaring and hissing at its mark. All held theirbreath; for the friendlies, watching from the hill-top, knew as well as those within thepathat thetohungahad promised immunity from this very danger.
Heke came out just at this moment to observe the effect of the missiles. Determined to be on the safe side, he had put up a Christian supplication, and now stood repeating with great unction a Maori prayer.
On came the rocket; but Heke never moved. Many thought that he must be hit; but the missile struck the ground and ricochetted over the fort—greatly, no doubt, to the relief of the venturesome leader, who, when a second shot behaved in like manner, yelled defiance and stalked under cover.
Kawiti had meanwhile laid a clever ambush. When the rockets had been fired, a rush was made on the rear of thepa, and Heke, leaving sufficient to defend the walls, sallied from the front and had nearly succeeded in effecting a junction with Kawiti, when a friendly saw him stealing through the bush and yelled an alarm. In consequence, Kawiti's flank attack was repulsed, his son being among the slain.
The old warrior attempted a second flank attack, but was driven back by the British, who, as they chased the Maori, swore at them after the immemorial fashion of Thomas Atkins. This annoyed the Maori more than any drubbing; for they complained that they had done nothing wrong, and to be treated to such vulgar abuse was an outrage. Such behaviour was indeed utterly opposed to the Maori idea of courtesy, and a deputation once approached the Governor, protesting against the Pakeha's habitof swearing at them, and praying His Excellency to discourage the offensive practice!
Colonel Hulme concluded as night fell that he could not take thepawith the force at his command. He believed that he had punished the enemy in the open; but his own loss was fourteen killed and thirty-two wounded. Having neither ammunition nor food remaining, the colonel marched away, leaving Heke in possession of the field.
The Maori chief some days later received a visit from Archdeacon Williams, who urged him to yield and go into exile for a year, after which his offences might possibly be pardoned. Heke declined the missionary's kind offices, and wrote the Governor a letter which was very far from being that of a fool.
"Friend, the Governor," said Heke, "where is the good will of England? In her great guns? In her Congreve rockets?... Is it shown in Englishmen calling us slaves? Or in their regard for our sacred places?... The Europeans taunt us. They say, 'Port Jackson, China, the Islands are but a precedent for this country. That flag of England which takes your country is the commencement.' The French and, after them, the Americans, told us the same thing.... We said, 'We will die for the country which God has given us.' ... If you demand our land, where are we to go?... Waka Nene's fighting for you is nothing. He is coaxing you for land, that you may say he is faithful.... Were anything to happen to me, the natives would kill in all directions. I alone restrain them. If you say fight, I am agreeable; if you say make peace, Iam equally agreeable.... I say to you, leave Waka and me to fight. We are both Maori. You fight your own colour. Peace must be determined by you, the Governor.—From me, John William Pokai[60](Heke)."
Public confidence in the security of life and property was by no means increased by the retreat of the British from Okaihau, while the Maori not unnaturally assumed airs which intensely irritated the colonists, though they wisely ignored them.
The Governor, standing at bay between the scornful Maori and the indignant colonists, who gave him a large share of the blame for the misfortunes which had befallen the colony, made vigorous efforts to organise another expedition which must crush Heke and Kawiti. While this was preparing, Heke kept his hand in by attacking Waka Nene'spa, where he received a bullet in the thigh. The British, not to be outdone, went in boats up the Waikari river, to find the fort they designed to attack deserted by the nimble foe.
All was ready by the 16th of June, and Colonel Despard of the 99th Regiment began the second campaign against Heke, who had withdrawn to apaof immense strength at Oheawai, sixteen miles inland from the Bay of Islands. The colonel, an experienced soldier, commanded a force of six hundred and forty regulars from the 58th, 96th, and 99th Regiments; sailors from theHazard; a company of one hundred volunteers, and two hundred and fifty friendly Maori. Four guns were with infinite painshauled along the difficult track, through mud of a depth rarely seen in Britain, and over creeks and rivers with steep, defiant banks, between which the water often rushed in flood. June is midwinter in New Zealand, and no worse time could have been chosen for the expedition. Yet, in the judgment of those most deeply concerned with the colony's fortunes, it had to be undertaken.
The force encamped near the mission-station on the Waimate or River of Tears, and on the 23rd of June marched to Oheawai, where a small garrison under Kawiti and Pene awaited their attack. Heke was still incapacitated.
The night was spent in preparing batteries for the "potato pots," as the Maori styled the mortars with which it was intended on the morrow to breach the palisades of thepa,—four barricades of massive logs,[61]twenty feet in height, with a broad ditch between the first and the second. Some heavy hammering would be necessary before a path could be smashed through those tremendous defences. Yet it was confidently expected that the mortars would accomplish their part of the programme of attack.
When they had turned in, the experience of the rest of the night must have been weird to the unseasoned British. Throughout the long, dark watches the comforting "All's well!" of the sentinels was drowned by the oft-repeated challenge, thundered by the guards in thepa, "Come on, Ohoia![62]Come on and revenge your dead of Okaihau! Come on! Come on!" And the deep-toned, defiant watch-cry of Waka Nene's men from their hill, "Come on, O Nga-Puhi! Come on for your revenge! We have slain you in heaps ere now! Come on! Come on!"
The bombardment began on the morning of the 24th, and for six days thereafter was continued. The round shot bowled through palisades one, two, three and four, or stuck fast in the giant posts; but never a trunk was shaken down, never one so hopelessly smashed as to open the door of that much-desired way. The enemy, safe in their cunningly contrived rifle-pits, meantime kept up a galling fire, which more than once caused a shifting of the positions of the batteries.
This ineffectual bombardment went on day after day, till Colonel Despard lost patience and suggested an assault, breach or no breach. But to this talk the Maori would not listen, and Waka Nene, wise in war, implored the colonel not to dream of an attempt which must result in the slaughter of almost every one concerned in it. The officers, brave though they proved themselves to be, supported Waka. Then Colonel Despard, angry, ashamed—for it was known how small a force held thepa,—and well-nigh disheartened, was cheered by a gleam of hope. Why not send to theHazardfor a thirty-two-pounder gun, which would certainly breach those defiant palisades? And send he did.
We know what bluejackets can do; but it is difficult for any one unfamiliar with the country to realise the enormous pains and labour expended indragging that thirty-two-pounder the fifteen miles which lay between the ship and the camp. It was done, though, and the great gun crowned the hill and frowned down upon thepa, threatening terrible probabilities for the morrow.
At ten o'clock next morning the new gun roared its first message. It was posted only a hundred yards from the fort; yet, astonishing to relate, those massive trunks groaned and quivered under the shock of impact, but as sullenly as ever refused to fall, declined to be smashed. But the defenders must have been apprehensive for the fate of their stockade; for, while the great gun went on booming, Kawiti and a chosen band of thirty stole out of thepa, and made their way unperceived to a thick wood close to, and in rear of the battery.
No one was prepared for this, even the friendlies' sharp ears and keen eyes being occupied with the banging of the guns, the thumping of the heavy shot against the palisades, and the splinters flying in all directions from the stubborn trunks. Wild, indeed, was the surprise of those on the hill, when old Kawiti and his band burst from the wood and charged down upon them.
Back reeled Waka's irregulars; down the hill in headlong flight raced gallant Colonel Despard and his officers, forced to "run away" in order that they might "live to fight another day," and upon that thundering monster and his small six-pounder orderly swooped Kawiti and his men. A few minutes more and the guns would have gone off in a fashion unusual with them; but a number of the brave 58thcame charging up the hill, flung themselves upon the assailants, and drove them back with nothing but a small union-jack for their pains.
Yet the sight of that little flag, hoisted below the Maori colours in thepa, stung Colonel Despard to madness, or, rather, into issuing a mad order which cost the lives of many brave men. Twenty-six shot had been fired from the big gun which Commander Johnston had brought, and, though an impression had been made upon the palisades, the Maori maintained that much remained to be done before it would be safe to assault thepa. Waka Nene threw his influence into the scale against the proposition, but, finding the colonel determined, very generously offered to lead a simultaneous attack upon another face of thepa—which was built in parallelogram. Twenty bold spirits among his men asked leave to accompany the soldiers; but the colonel refused all help from his friendlies on the ground that, when they got inside thepa, the soldiers might mistake them for hostiles. Thus, the men who had had most experience in assaulting apa, and who were willing for once "to walk in a funeral procession," were forced to remain spectators of an assault which they knew could have but one issue.
One made his last charge that fatal afternoon whom the hostile Maori would fain have spared if they could. He was Lieutenant Phillpotts of theHazard, or "Toby," as the Maori affectionately styled him. Here, at Oheawai, he showed his usual cool courage, walking up to the stockade and along it, examining as he went, and all the time underfire of the sharpshooters in the pits. When these recognised the bold intruder, they ceased firing, calling out, "Kapai, Toby! Hurrah for Toby! Go back, Toby! We don't want to hurt you." But the lieutenant finished his examination, returned and reported to Colonel Despard that without further breaching assault was impossible. But the colonel was adamant.
The assault by escalade was fixed for three in the afternoon of the 1st of July, and one hundred and sixty gallant fellows under Majors Macpherson and Bridge, along with forty eager tars under brave Phillpotts, paraded at eighty yards from thepa, and stood staring at death.
For a few minutes the silence is intense. Even the Maori in thepacease firing, unable to believe their eyes as they note the axes and ropes in the hands of the men. Then the hush is broken by a pealing bugle-call—"Advance!" A roaring chorus of cheers bursts from the devoted band—"Ave, Desparde! Morituri te salutant!" it should have sounded to the colonel,—and they race to cover those eighty yards and reach what is indeed the "imminent, deadly breach."
Where is the brave fellow who a moment ago gave his bluejackets a last cheering word? Where is Phillpotts? There he is—back behind the big gun, thumping in a few more shots at the palisade, if so he may give his men a chance for their lives.
He recoils suddenly from the gun, staring. Is he dreaming? The storming party is not making for that part of the palisade at which the monsterhas been hurling its iron wrath, but for the strongest section of thepa, at which never a shot has been fired, whence never a spicule of wood has been torn. What can it mean? "Are they all gone mad?" he groans; and a wrathful growl answers him, "Colonel's orders, sir."[63]
Phillpotts scarcely hears. If his men are to be sent to death in that fashion, he is not going to lag behind. On he runs. His men have covered half of the distance; but he is close upon them, and catches back his breath for an encouraging shout, when a line of light sparkles along the ground in front, and from under thepekerangi, or outer fence, a hundred balls of lead, invisible, but whining viciously, speed towards their billets.
The foremost soldiers are down. Some of the sailors go down, too. But Phillpotts is up with them now; no—ahead of them, where he wished to be, and his cheery voice comes to them through the din, "Keep at it, men! Down with those palisades!" And with one long, strong pull the tars bring down full fifty feet of thepekerangi.
Alas! that does but little good; for they are face to face with those mighty tree-trunks, whose fellows not even the great gun has been able to demolish. This fence is set so deeply in the soil that human strength avails not to pull it down. It is loopholed, too, and every aperture spits death at the brave fellows who fall and fall and fall; but will not run.