CHAPTER II. JAMES WEST STACK'S STORY.
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CHAPTER II
I am ordained by Bishop Harper, and set out for Auckland to meet my bride. Arrived at Taranaki, I find myself in the war zone.
I resumed my visits to Kaiapoi and Banks Peninsula, and it was while staying with the Maoris at the former place that I made up my mind to write and ask Miss Jones to be my wife. I got a letter from a friend in Auckland telling me she was about to return to England with the Montressor Smiths, 1 and that caused me to take action at once, rather than wait until after my ordination, which was my original intention. I penned my letter from Ihaia's house on the Cam, wondering greatly how Miss Jones would receive it. I knew that it would be many weeks before I could get an answer, as the postal arrangements were very defective. 2
I paid a visit to Banks Peninsula. A month passed by, and then six weeks, and no letter came. I began to fear the worst when, to my joy, I received a letter which, though kindly worded, did not contain a decisive answer. But it made me hopeful, and I wrote again. A few weeks afterwards I was rejoiced to get a letter accepting
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my proposal, and also one from Commissary-General Jones congratulating me upon having won a prize in the lottery of life.
One of the first results of the announcement of our engagement was the receipt of an invitation from Mrs. Gresson, the Judge's wife, to an evening to meet Mr. Henry Tancred, who had just arrived from Auckland, and who was the bearer of a parcel to me from my fiancee. Mr. Tancred was then Postmaster-General, and our meeting at Mrs. Gresson's was the beginning of a warm, life-long friendship. The parcel he brought contained the surplice and bands which I wore on the day of my ordination by Bishop Harper, at Trinity Church, Lyttelton, on Sunday, 23rd December, 1860.
I left for the north at the first opportunity. While crossing from Wellington to Nelson, a stout, good-natured gentleman came up and introduced himself to me. He was Mr. Justice Johnston, 3 of Wellington, a friend of Miss Jones, and he gave a warm invitation to us both to stay at his home on our way back from Auckland to Canterbury.
On landing at Nelson I went to pay my respects to Bishop Hobhouse, who received me most cordially, though I had never seen him before. He introduced me to Mrs. Hobhouse, and to Dr. Codrington, who had just arrived from England to join the Melanesian Mission. From Nelson I went on to Taranaki, where Commis-
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sary-General Jones 4 came on board to meet me and take me on shore to his quarters. The day was very fine, but, notwithstanding, the landing in the great surf-boats proved an exciting experience. Immediately on landing I became aware that I was within the war zone. Sentries were pacing backwards and forwards along the sea-front of the town, which was surrounded with a strong stockade, and we were challenged on entering the gateway. Humphrey Jones's quarters were in a mill, where he had secured a room for me, and where I was waited upon by his servant Douglas, who was particularly attentive. We had our meals at the mess, a building outside the town, a few hundred yards away.
Amongst the officers whom I met there I was surprised to find my old friend, the Rev. James A. Wilson, who was acting as chaplain to the troops. He was the husband of the lady whose death I mentioned in my account of my childhood at Te Papa. 5 He had been originally a lieutenant in the navy, and felt specially called to follow the troops to the front when the Taranaki war with the Maoris broke out. He proved of great service to them, owing to his knowledge of the Maori language and of the ways of the people.
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One day I accompanied Humphrey to Waitara, where the fighting was going on. We went in a small steamer, carrying Government stores to the troops. On landing I was told I could amuse myself looking about the camp till it was time to return to New Plymouth. I strolled out in the direction of the firing line where our men, standing in rifle pits, were firing at an unseen enemy crouching in the tall fern in front. Every few minutes cannon shots from our artillery were seen to strike the tops of the forest trees behind which the Maori pa stood. But no Maoris were visible anywhere, and the only sign of their presence was an occasional puff of smoke rising from their rifle pits, hidden by fern; and the "ping" caused by a flying bullet. One of these came so close to me that I thought it prudent to return to the officers' mess room, where Humphrey had taken me on our first arrival at the camp.
While waiting there, Dr. Grace and Mr. Holt came in and related the story of a thrilling experience one of the camp cooks had just had. He and his mate had just gone outside the camp to a small clump of trees to collect firewood. When returning with their back-loads they became aware that they were the objects of pursuit by two Maoris, armed with the dreaded tomahawk. Throwing down their loads they ran for their lives. Their pursuers gained upon them. Hearing a cry, the foremost man turned round and saw his mate being killed a few yards behind him. Breathless and exhausted with his long run, he feared his turn would soon come. What could he do to save himself? He had noticed that the two Maoris wore nothing but waist mats. On both sides
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of the road along which he was running, Scotch thistles five feet high grew close together, and a happy thought occurred to him to dash into this thicket of prickly thistles, and hide there. As he disappeared amongst them his baffled pursuers, who, naked as they were, could not follow him, uttered a yell of disappointment and made off themselves, to avoid being shot by the soldiers who were hastening from the camp to help the cooks.
In the centre of New Plymouth was a round hill, fortified as a citadel, into which all women and children were told to flock whenever a signal gun was fired. I happened to be walking in the town one day when I heard the gun-fire, and saw women and children hurrying up to the place of refuge, and companies of soldiers hastening towards the walls. On making inquiry I heard that the boys who tended the milch cows in the fields adjoining the town had been fired upon, and that a large force of Maoris threatened the town. On climbing Marsland Hill I could see two or three hundred Maoris sitting on the top of a ridge just out of rifle range, and watching our proceedings. Some of them performed a haka, evidently to show how little they feared our ability to injure them. But on seeing a force as large as their own approaching them, they retired. For a day or two after this demonstration the civilian population of New Plymouth were rather nervous and jumpy, and all sorts of wild stories of coming attacks by Maoris flew about.
On Sunday, Mr. Wilson, who had gone to the Maori camp to have service as usual with the natives, was turned back, and warned never to go near the Maori camp again. He told me that his practice had been, for months, to
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minister in both camps on Sundays, and to visit the sick and wounded on week-days. To avoid being mistaken by the Maori sentries for an ordinary white settler, he always put his surplice on when leaving New Plymouth, and continued to wear it until he got back to the town. It speaks well for the confidence reposed by the Maoris in the missionaries that, for nearly two years after the war began, they accepted their ministrations and allowed them to pass freely backwards and forwards between their own camps and those of the soldiers arrayed against them.
