CAMP LIFE AT TE AWAMUTU.
The close of the Waikato War saw some four thousand Imperial and
Colonial troops in quarters at Te Awamutu, which remained a large
military cantonment for over a year. Surveyors were busy cutting up
blocks of confiscated land in the Waikato-Waipa delta for the military
settlers, three regiments of Waikato Militia—one regiment was allotted
land at Tauranga—and the two companies of Forest Rangers.
An excellent description of military life in Te Awamutu at this period
is contained in a narrative written by an Army chaplain (name not
given) which appeared in “Fraser’s Magazine,” London, in 1864. The
writer narrates the trials and humours of the journey by river and road
from Auckland to Te Awamutu in March, and gives an account of the
soldiers’ town as he saw it.
“During the hot months,” wrote the chaplain, “officers and men were
under canvas. * * * Most of these [the tents] have now disappeared, and
a small town of whares has sprung up in their place. These whares are
extremely comfortable; the coldest wind or the heaviest rain is
effectually excluded. The nearest approach we have ever seen to a whare
at Home is a Highland bothy, built of turf and heather. One whare
affords accommodation for twenty-four men, who have to act as their own
architects, carpenters, and builders. A healthy spirit of rivalry is
thus produced; each man vies with his neighbour, and surveys the work
of his own hand with honest pride. Raupo, a strong, flexible reed,
abounding in the neighbouring swamps, has to be cut down and carried
into camp on the men’s shoulders. They have often to remain for hours
up to the waist in water, and are thus liable to frequent attacks of
dysentery and fever. * * * When the whare is finished the men are
allowed to have a dance on the wooden floor. The solitary flute strikes
up ‘Judy O’Callaghan,’ ‘Garryowen,’ or some equally lively air, and a
light-footed Irishman dances a pas de seul amid the vociferous applause
of his comrades, who, inspired by his example, take the floor and
batter the boards with hearty goodwill. A few of the huts are built of
wood, which has been supplied by contract. Most of the primæval forests
in the district have disappeared, but clumps of red pine may still
occasionally be seen. A party of some two hundred sawyers are employed
about six miles from the camp [near Rangiaowhia]; strange, wild-looking
men who have lived for years in the bush and hold little intercourse
with their fellow-men. Some of the more skilful amongst them can make
as much as £15 per week; the poorest workman can make the half of that
amount. * * * The furnishings of our hut consist of a camp-bed, a
table, two chairs, two wooden stools, two bridles, a riding-whip, a
mirror six inches by four, a few paddles, a rifle, a sword, and a lump
of bacon suspended from the roof. The mothers and sisters of officers
out here are not to suppose that their sons and brothers are equally
comfortable; our habits are deemed quite luxurious; our hut is the envy
of the whole camp. The rumour has reached us that the Colonial
Government, who claim it as their property [the hut was at the mission
station], intend to turn us out, but they will find that rather
difficult; possession at Te Awamutu is something more than nine points
of law; we know our rights and mean to stand by them.”
Describing some of the troops at Te Awamutu, the chaplain wrote: “ * *
* The soldiers of the 65th Regiment are most exemplary in this respect
[attendance at religious services]. The regiment has spent eighteen
years in the colony; the men have been broken up into detachments and
stationed in rural districts, far removed from the temptations of
garrison towns. Their appearance is very different from that of the men
belonging to other regiments recently arrived. They are grave, serious,
thoughtful men, with bronzed faces and flowing beards—living proofs of
the healthiness of the climate. They are all in good condition, and
occupy one-fourth more space on the parade-ground than any other
regiment here. From their long residence in the colony most of them
have contrived to save a little money; some who have speculated in land
are capitalists possessed of thousands. This wealth does not interfere
in any way with the strictness of discipline or the respect due to
their officers. On the contrary, they expose their lives as readily as
those who have nothing to lose, and from long intercourse are devotedly
attached to those under whom they serve. They have never left their
officers wounded on the field of battle; it is always a point of honour
with them to carry them off, whatever loss may be entailed. Their
wealth also sometimes enables them to be generous. It was only recently
that a subaltern of long standing was likely to lose his company from
not having money to purchase. Judge of his surprise when one of the
sergeants waited on him and offered to advance the sum required. * * *
The 65th is first on the roster for Home service, but few of the men
will ever leave the island. In fact, it is not to be desired that they
should, as a better class of colonist could not be found.
“When the natives fled from this district a good many horses, cattle,
and pigs were left wandering in the bush. Some months ago it was a
frequent amusement among the officers to sally forth in small parties
in search of loot. They revived the wild sports of Mexico by hunting
down the horses and driving them into camp. We know of one case where
an officer brought in twenty horses and sold them at £5 a head, thus
netting £100 by the venture. * * * We have several lakes in the
neighbourhood. [One of these was the Pekapeka-rau lagoon near
Rangiaowhia.] The natives, on leaving, hid their canoes by dragging
them into the bush or sinking them. A good many have been found, and
some of our men have become skilful paddlers. They venture forth in
these frail barques in search of sport. At first the wild fowl were so
tame that they seemed to apprehend no danger; they have now become more
suspicious. Pig-hunting also was a frequent amusement.”
THE ROMANCE OF ARIANA.
This Army chaplain narrated with dry humour the romantic little story
of a wounded half-caste girl, one of the prisoners taken at Orakau on
2nd April, 1864; her name was Ariana Huffs, or Hough:
“We have a few friendly natives in camp (at Te Awamutu) who receive
rations; they have evidently much sympathy with their countrymen in
bonds, and we respect them for it. There is one of them, a hunch-back
postman, who plays a little on the Maori flute, which is much the same
as our penny whistle. As soon as evening sets in he takes his stand at
the door of his tent and begins playing a sort of dirge. His music is
execrable, but we bear with it for the following reasons: One evening
we requested him to cease his serenade or to remove elsewhere beyond
our hearing. The deformed creature threw himself into an interesting
attitude and said, ‘It is not for myself I am playing; it is for Ariana
Huffs. Every evening she comes out to listen, and I can speak to her
with my flute; she knows all that it says.’ After this sentimental
avowal we have learned to tolerate this black Blondel, this dusky
Trovatore. Ariana is a remarkably pretty half-caste, the offspring of
an Englishman and a Maori woman. Her mother died some years ago, and
her father, one of those restless, unsettled beings so often to be met
with in the colonies, left her to the care of her Maori relatives and
started for Australia; nothing has been heard of him since. When the
war broke out she was living with a settler near Awamutu; the family
was obliged to leave, and she was carried off by the rebels. She says
that this was done against her will, and that while the fighting was
going on at the pa [Orakau] she was tied to another woman to prevent
her from attempting to escape. We suspect, however, that she was tied
only by the gentle cords of love, and that a Maori warrior had
something to do with her presence there. When the pa was evacuated she
was hit by a bullet which shattered her arm; it would have gone hard
with her in the indiscriminate slaughter which ensued had not some
brave fellow stood over her and defended her life.
“Ten men came forward to claim the honour due to this gallant deed; but
this was after the report of her beauty had spread over the camp, and
each claimant doubtless imagined that he could establish a lien over
her heart.
“Nay; some weeks after the fight an enthusiastic militiaman travelled
all the way from Raglan, a distance of thirty miles, and demanded an
interview with the Brigadier; he stated that he was the preserver of
Ariana’s life; he could neither eat nor drink nor sleep for thinking of
her; so he had made up his mind to make her his wife. He had £50 in the
Savings Bank, which sum he wished to devote to her education, so as to
prepare her for the duties of the married state. All that he desired at
present was an interview with the object of his affections; Ariana
would at once recognise him and rush to his arms. There was only one
slight difficulty: he spoke no Maori and she knew no English; but love
has a language of its own; he had no doubt that they would understand
one another.
“The Brigadier [Carey], amused at the fellow’s earnestness, granted the
desired interview, and allowed the interpreter to be present to assist
if the silent language of love should prove insufficient. The lover
entered the room with a bashful, sheepish air, and stared at Ariana,
who stared at him in return; but there was no recognition on her part,
no outburst of gushing gratitude, no rushing to his arms. On the
contrary, she turned to the interpreter and coolly asked what the man
wanted; on learning which she laughed heartily and told him to go away,
as she had never seen him before, and would have nothing to say to him.
The poor fellow begged, beseeched, implored, and looked unutterable
things; Ariana only tittered and turned away her head. Ever since that
time the militiaman has continued to urge his suit in letters, written
by a half-caste amanuensis, but the Maori maid is still obdurate. He is
not the only man who has felt the power of a beauty or claimed to be
her preserver; so importunate were some of her admirers that a guard
had to be stationed at the hut for her protection. She has now almost
recovered from her wound, and an asylum will be provided for her in an
orphan institution. We have still some hopes of the militiaman:
perseverance often leads to success in love as in everything else.”