CHAPTER III: WAR IN THE NORTH. 1845-6.
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CHAPTER III.
WAR IN THE NORTH.
1845-6.
WE were settled at home again before the end of the year, and the large party, from the Waimate, composed of English and natives, had encamped in tents till St. John's College could be ready to receive them. Early in March, 1845, news reached us of the probability of a war in the North. John Heke, of whom I spoke before, and a large party of turbulent young men cut down the flag-staff at Kororarika for the second time. It had been cut down by him a few months before, on the ground that the Queen's flag flying on it was a proof that the sovereignty of the native chiefs was at an end. Another grievance in his eyes was that, instead of the old clause in the Litany where prayer was made for the native chiefs, the Queen's name was, introduced. But it was probably an outbreak on the part of young New Zealand, who, like our forefathers, enjoyed a fray. A new flag-staff was put up, and protected by a block-house, guarded by twenty soldiers. A little before sunrise on the 11th of March, Heke, seeing that the officer on guard had
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drawn off most of the men to a little distance to strengthen the entrenchment, rushed up the hill with his men, cut off the retreat of the soldiers, killed the sentinels, and took possession of the blockhouse. The keeper of the signals was badly wounded, and his wife and daughter taken prisoners. But Heke, with the chivalry that distinguished his conduct throughout (an indirect result of his Christian training), at once sent them with a flag of truce to the nearest English post, and remained within gunshot of the fort till he saw that both were safely lodged under shelter. We learned all the details of the attack from our Bishop, who had gone up two days before in his little Mission cutter to look after the Mission families and the schools. It was due to his prompt action and sagacity that our people were saved from a terrible disaster. A house on the beach had been strongly fortified as a stockade, and into this all the women and children were crowded. The Bishop saw that nothing was being done in the confusion for their safety, and went off in his little boat to shore, bringing four women and nine children to his cutter, and then induced an American man-of-war and a whaler that had just arrived in harbour to lend all their boats, and to give them shelter on board their vessels. Two hours after, a powder-magazine exploded within the stockade, and set the house on fire, where, but for his exertions, most
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of these helpless creatures must have perished. One brave woman remained behind to nurse any men who might be wounded. She was found buried under the ruins, and seriously injured. Two men were carried on board H. M. S. Hazard, where they died. Several more were terribly burned, and one died on the voyage down to Auckland. But amid all these horrors it was thankworthy to see how Christianity controlled the wild passions even of those who had not embraced it. The Bishop and Archdeacon Williams went on shore again that evening to bury the dead and found to their comfort that the bodies of the soldiers were lying where they had fallen, with their clothes, and accoutrements untouched. Many of the natives who were busily plundering the deserted town were heathen; but there was no attempt to mutilate the dead bodies, or to hinder the funeral service being read over them. The scene presented some comic touches amid the tragedy. The general looting was being carried on with great composure. The insurgents neither quarrelled over the spoil nor resented any attempt on the part of the settlers to recover a part of their property. Some of the natives were carrying off casks of spirits. One young fellow good-humouredly assented to the Bishop's proposal to turn the cork, and let the contents be poured out. Others promised to drink very little. At the Waimate, whether the Bishop next went, a large
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body of Christian natives came flocking out to meet him with hearty shouts of welcome. As soon as he entered his old home, the seventy little children of the boarding-school, who were all in bed, came downstairs, crowding round him and holding his hand by turns. One of the native teachers said: "Though the heavens are black around us, this is the bright spot of blue sky, which gives hope that the storm will soon pass away." They all pledged themselves to defend the missionaries and their families, and the latter were quite firm in their resolve to stay at their post.
As the Bishop rode back to Kororarika, the town was in flames. In the bosom of the dark hills, the smoke went up like the smoke of a furnace. But he found that the Roman Catholic and English Churches and parsonages had been spared. In an hour or two, the American and English men-of-war, the whale-ship, and the gallant little Flying Fish, were all under weigh with their sorrowful freight of three hundred homeless refugees, besides the wounded, and came to anchor in our harbour about midnight on Saturday, March 15th.
Auckland was in a high state of excitement the next day. Our little Irish housemaid hurried back from church to tell me the news. "Oh, ma'am, it is so awful. We heard the trucks go by with the wounded while we were at Service; and, please ma'am,
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John Heke is coming to take Auckland next Wednesday. "We went up in the afternoon to St. Stephen's, a little stone church just built for the use of any Maoris who happened to be in the town. It was full of men and women, who had assembled for Scripture reading and catechising. The door stood open. All nature was in repose; not a ripple on the water; yet, just beyond the wooded headland which shut in our bay towards the town, rose the tall masts of the ships which had brought down so many of our sorrowful and suffering people. A day or two after I was alone in the drawing-room, when our huge friend, William Jowett, rushed in, breathless with excitement, to tell me that he and a large party had come to defend our house in case Heke should bring down a war-party. I laughed, and told him that the soldiers ought to defend us. But he looked very serious, and said: "No, it won't do to lean on them." "What do you think of the sailors, then?" He pondered awhile, and answered: "Well, they would do better, perhaps; but you must have us. We know best about Maori warfare." Dear old fellow, it was pleasant to see his heartiness and genuine affection for his English friends. A good deal of fear was felt for some days, and many people buried plate and other valuables. If Heke and his men, flushed with success, had come swiftly down the old war-path by which the Judge had found his way in the previous autumn,
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he might have done great mischief. But all around remained quiet, and the Waikatos hastened to assure the Governor of their friendship and allegiance. We could not feel afraid, because we knew the Maoris. Mrs. Selwyn went down about this time to Otaki, in the south, with her husband, and wrote to me: "We are more completely among the Maoris than I have ever been before. Certainly, if you wish to be at ease about the people, the way is to live among them. They are extremely civil, and I am mixing medicine every day in great tranquillity. They arc so comical, and willing to take anything you give, and to think it very good; and they imagine that they know nothing, and you know everything, and they look up to you, and cling to you at all points. We had a gradually increasing tail from the time we sighted the Pah, and when we reached the house it might have put O'Connell to the blush."
The war in the north continued for a year, though we had a valuable ally in Thomas Walker, a man of great influence there, who brought a large force with him. It might not have ended even then, but for a happy chance, which obtained a bloodless victory. Heke had built a new pah, and it was invested by a large force of soldiers, Naval Brigade, and native allies. It had been bombarded for some hours on the Saturday, and the storming of it--a most perilous undertaking--was to take place on
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Monday. On the Sunday morning, however, some sailors and marines straggling from our camp, found that the pah was empty. The insurgents, not expecting an attack, had all gone out, some to cook food, and the Christian section to hold service. In a short time our troops were in possession, and although the Maoris, after the first surprise, tried with great courage to drive them out, they were not able. John Heke soon after sued for peace, and all his followers went quietly home, and he remained a peaceable subject ever after. There was so much chivalry about him, that he was much admired by the soldiers and sailors. One of the naval officers spoke of him to us as a noble enemy. There were touches of generosity that reminded one of Froissart's stories. In one case, the Maoris surprised two young officers who had ridden out to reconnoitre. They took their swords from them, upbraided them for not keeping a better look-out as servants of the Queen, and then, giving them back their swords, let them go. A naval officer told us also of his going out with a small party of sailors, and suddenly finding himself on the brow of a low hill overlooking a valley, in which a large force was encamped. They were greeted at once with a shower of bullets, and were obliged to lie down in the high fern for shelter. If ever they ventured to peep over, a bullet came whistling from below. Just before sunset, our friend heard singing,
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and thought that he could make out the tune of the Evening Hymn. His foes were going to have prayers. In a minute he and his men were up and running for their lives. Short as the service probably was, it gave him time to escape.
Lieutenant Philpott, a son of the Bishop of Exeter, was killed while getting up a scaling ladder, in one attempt to storm Heke's Pah. He was a great favourite with the Maoris. They admired his pluck, and used to hail him in a very friendly manner from within their stockade.
