CHAPTER II: NIPPED IN THE BUD
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CHAPTER II
NIPPED IN THE BUD
A TALE OF THE EARLY DAYS OF SELF-RELIANCE
NEW ZEALAND as an infant colony, nursed and protected by the Mother Country, was not an unqualified success.
When a prompt and vigorous native policy would probably have been successful (and, as subsequent events have clearly proved, certainly the more merciful course to pursue), other influences were brought to bear, upsetting all previous plans for the suppression of rebellion. The Governor was of one opinion, the General commanding the Imperial troops of another opinion, and, in the meantime, the natives, mistaking inactivity for fear, were emboldened to fresh acts of aggression. The Hau Hau fanaticism, originating on the West Coast, received a most extraordinary impetus from a melancholy event that had occurred shortly before. Captain Lloyd, of the Imperial Army, and his escort were ambuscaded by a party of rebels and
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nearly all destroyed. That unfortunate officer was taken prisoner and put to death. His head was carefully preserved, after an ancient Maori custom, an art in which some of the enemy were still adepts. The gruesome trophy was then taken from place to place, and exhibited at Hau Hau meetings and pai mariri dances, on which occasions it was made to answer questions--the deceptive work of some clever, designing scoundrel, endowed with powers of ventriloquism. During this time many of the natives on the East Coast, after returning from a visit, were heard recounting their personal experiences and expressing their belief in the reality of the supposed phenomena. The prevailing impression left upon them was that the God of the Hau Hau spoke through the head of the conquered rangatira (a distinguished personage) to the effect that he would deliver them from their Pakeha enemies, by chasing the latter into the sea, from whence they came. Thus New Zealand would, once again, be for the Maori.
A contingent from this hotbed of sedition it was, that under Kereopa (Te Kooti) made a descent upon Opotiki, where the Rev. Mr. Volckner was so inhumanly massacred, Kereopa, in the presence of his followers, plucking out and swallowing the eyes of the unfortunate missionary before he was actually dead, and declaring that his God had revealed to him that, by this means, he would acquire increased mana (knowledge, power).
When we consider that, in the face of all this
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turmoil, strife, and bloodshed, the colonists had determined to adopt the policy of self-reliance, initiated by Mr. Weld, and that, in consequence, the Imperial troops had to be withdrawn from New Zealand, it may be easily imagined that settlers in the North Island occupied a somewhat unenviable position, surrounded, as they were, on all sides by natives. Some were staunch and loyal; but a vast number were sitting on a rail, like the middle parties in our legislature, or, more vulgarly speaking, waiting to see which way the cat jumped. Such was the state of affairs in and around Hawke's Bay towards the end of 1866, when a party of Hau Haus, numbering about one hundred, led by Panapa, their prophet, made their appearance at Oamarunui, a place situated about ten miles from Napier, where they took possession of a deserted pah. They immediately began to strengthen their position. As they had committed no unlawful act, so far, they were not at first interfered with. They had a right to live where they chose in the locality, as many of them belonged to the local hapus or tribes, and were ostensibly friendlies. But Makarini (McLean), afterwards Sir Donald, knew the Maori character too well to allow their proceedings to remain unnoticed.
The town was at their mercy on any night they might think fit to make an attack. The magazine, containing a plentiful supply of arms and ammunition, of which they were much in need, was a tempting bait for these turbulent spirits, and, since
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the withdrawal of the regulars, it was almost totally unguarded.
Disquieting rumours were rife regarding the intentions of our sinister visitors. Nobody seemed to be aware what course Mr. McLean intended to pursue. Suspense and inaction produced feelings of most painful excitement; and the very thought of that band of savages swooping down upon us any night was maddening.
One evening orders were issued to captains of volunteers and militia companies to assemble their corps, at midnight, in silence, on the parade ground. This was accomplished in a most expeditious manner. With few exceptions, the whole of the available able-bodied men rolled up. Country corps and mounted yeomanry were instructed to concentrate at a given point. We fell in, and in due course were informed as to our destination. Half an hour's grace was allowed for any preparation deemed necessary. Some, considering themselves insufficiently armed, occupied the time in procuring pocket-pistols--from the Masonic Hotel! Others occupied the time in writing their wills-- they had something to leave, even in those days.
At length a start was made, the company of volunteers in the advance, numbers one and two companies of militia following, with number three the rear.
The route for a few miles was alongside a lagoon, and the darkness of the night was such that the road and the swamp, with its weed-covered edge,
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in places, appeared the same. The consequence was an occasional splash as some unlucky wight had mistaken toi toi for terra firma.
Silently and leisurely we march along, any moment we may walk into an ambush. Our captain is extremely careful, giving his directions in whispers. At last we near the river which courses by the enemy's position, still a few miles distant. A halt is made, the order "With ball cartridge! load! no capping!" is given in subdued tones. What's that? A splash is heard on the opposite side of the river. The interpreter challenges, "Kuai terra?" (Who's there?) No response. Another splash in the same direction, and another call. Still no answer. Further inquiries were put an end to by a distinct but unromantic sound--one of the mothers of the bovine herd was merely quenching her thirst.
Another forward movement brings us to the main body. We break off, pile arms, and he down for a spell, awaiting further developments. Daylight arrives. The Hau Haus--who have not evacuated the position through the night--are keeping very close. Their pah is plainly visible, not a mile away, on the bank of the river. McLean, with his staff, is on an elevation, reconnoitring the situation. A horseman, with a white flag at his saddle-bow, dashes forward towards the pah. All eyes are strained to observe the result. He crosses the river, and gallops up the incline leading to the pah, the flag waving till we lose sight of him.
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Will they use treachery? No! That dastardly line of warfare was reserved for Te Kooti to initiate.
The message to Panapa informed him that he and his followers might disperse, through their friends around, if they gave up their arms, and promised to act peaceably in future. The prophet's answer was that if we wanted their arms or themselves, we would have to come and take them, adding that the god of the Hau Hau had informed him that he would be invulnerable and victorious, should an attempt be made to capture him.
The interpreter returns with the chief's reply, the staff consult for a few minutes, the major in command of the militia company turns his horse and rides briskly towards us, calling out, "Fall in, boys! We must take these fellows. Quick, lads, we can make a meal of them."
Personally, I must confess, I felt like not taking any; but "fall in!" it had to be, and the curious part of that evolution was that we nearly all evinced a strong inclination for the rear rank. For a minute or so the gallant old major looked on with a smile at the raw material before him. Then three words settled the point. "Remember your numbers!"
Left face; right wheel; forward! On we marched over the dry shingly river-course intervening. The river is reached, rushing and swirling over its bed of boulders, in places little more than
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knee-deep, but treacherous. We have to cross in the face of the enemy, scarce three hundred yards away. We sling arms, catch each other's hands, and dash into it.
The first time under fire! Various accounts descriptive of emotions produced on like occasions I have read, but none coming near the reality; up to one's waist in the swiftly coursing river, slipping on the pebbly bottom at each step, holding tightly to each other, right and left, for mutual assistance, and in momentary expectation of a volley from the scrub or whares on the bank in front.
The predominant feeling, under similar circumstances, I fancy must be an overpowering desire to be absent altogether, or right in the thick of the impending melee, the uncertainty being a thousand times worse than action.
The river is forded without casualty. We re-form and make a slight detour, which places us nearly out of range of the enemy's rifles. Major Lambert gives the word, advance! No sooner is the command given, than several of the fiery spirits rush right away towards the enemy, and, jumping upon the bank, wave their rifles, shouting, "First up! Hurroo!" The rest follow in quick time. Just as the level plateau near the pah is reached, a brisk fusillade begins from the southern side. The friendlies have opened the ball.
Then the Hau Hau fanaticism is displayed in its true colours, by Panapa and his followers. The first shot fired is their signal for action. Instantly
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forty or fifty of them dash out of the pah towards us, firing, dancing, putting out their tongues and rolling their eyes, in derision and defiance, looking more like demons than human beings in their tight-fitting shirts, ornamented with crosses, half-moons, stars, and various fantastical devices.
The order to fire is given, and we are not slow in obeying. The first volley from our Enfields brings the majority of the poor wretches to earth. Three of our men are knocked over--one killed, and two badly wounded. The Hau Haus, such as are not placed hors de combat, retreat to their whares.
We had sorely dispelled their illusion of in-vulnerability, as fully twenty of them lay dead within fifty yards of their taiapas. Yet they continued firing, confining themselves to the defensive, no doubt thinking we would try to carry the position by assault. But McLean wished to capture them with as little loss as possible. "Take any available cover and let none escape" was the order.
The tops of some woolly heads with feather ornaments occasionally showed above the palisade, a puff of smoke following. They were having a little practice at our expense. One of our best shots had his bayonet knocked off as he was loading. With an exclamation, "Begorra, I'll thry an' sthop yer little game. Mister Ha Ha!" he brought his muzzle-loader to the "present," and soon the woolly head peeped no longer over the palisade. On the north side the volunteers had been getting
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it hot, having comparatively no cover, and being exposed to the cross fire of the friendlies. At length "Cease fire!" was sounded, but half the men engaged didn't know the "Cease fire" from "Jack's the Lad." They had no ear for bugle music, and, moreover, had never been taught the calls. Again the bugle sounded, "Cease fire!" A flag of truce appeared; but from another part of the pah shots were still being fired at us. Consequently we continued potting anything visible.
The end comes at last--surrender! The white flag is hoisted, and all is over. Upon entering the enclosure, the sight that meets the eye is sickening in the extreme. There lies Panapa, with five bullets in him. Others in various attitudes are writhing in mortal agony, or just gasping their last. No time or inclination to stay here, as some of the survivors are endeavouring to make their escape to the hills, and must be taken dead or alive. There is "no cure for cancer but the knife," and of the ten or twelve who broke away at the rear of the pah only three escape.
The wounded were carefully tended, and conveyances were at hand to take them into the hospital at Napier. Some, though badly maimed, curtly refused any assistance, and walked all the way. One magnificent specimen of his race, over six feet, and built in proportion, who had been the leading spirit after Panapa's fall, was hit in the face, the bullet passing through and splintering the lower jawbone, yet he proudly declined help. Quite unable
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to speak, he merely shook his head when asked to ride, and, holding his face in his blanket, tramped on with the others.
For the next three or four weeks the hospital authorities had their resources severely taxed; but were most ably and charitably helped by the townspeople, who were unremitting in their attention, bringing delicacies of every description to the convalescents until they were sufficiently recovered. The prisoners were sent off to the Chathams and detained there, until, with Te Kooti, they made good their escape. They were afterwards known to be our most redoubtable and terrible antagonists in the war which followed.
Although this engagement was comparatively a small affair, it occurred at a very critical time and place. Hawke's Bay being the most beautiful and fertile portion of the North Island, and thickly populated by the aboriginal inhabitants, was a province easy of access from any quarter, and so offered tempting opportunities for an invading force bent upon plunder and massacre.
If Panapa had succeeded in routing our forces on that occasion it would have created a revolution amongst the friendlies. Numbers of them, imagining that the Hau Hau prophecies were about to be fulfilled, would have thrown off the restraining influence of their loyal chieftains, and have joined the victorious rebels. But the right man was in the right place--Donald McLean, superintendent of the province, than whom no individual ever wielded
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more power over the natives. His tact it was that saved Napier from spoliation and worse, and nipped in the bud a serious revival of the horrible Hau Hau fanaticism.
