FIRST ALARMS — TAUREKA
STATION — MASSACRE — EUROPEANS — NATIVES — SUBSEQUENT
MURDERS — DESTRUCTION OF PROPERTY — REFLECTIONS.
About midnight, November 9th, 1868, Mr. Firmin, a policeman, who
resided near the Patutahi ford of the Waipawa river, which he and the
male adults of three neighbouring families were accustomed to watch,
heard shots in the direction of Matewhero, two miles from Firmin’s
house. He woke his wife, but as it was not unusual to hear the sound
of shots by night, they considered the sounds heard on this occasion
as proceeding from friendly natives, yet they were not entirely free
from apprehension, and slept no more that night. At dawn of day, Mr.
Firmin went out to reconnoitre. At the Patutahi ford, he saw a Maori,
who appeared desirous of avoiding Mr. Firmin, who hailed him to know
the meaning of more shots just then heard at Matewhero. The native
stopped, and appeared excited. He said the Hauhaus were killing the
white men. Nothing more definite could be extracted from him, Firmin
being ignorant of the Maori language, so Mr. Firmin hastened to warn
his neighbours, Wyllie, Stevenson, and Benson, all married men with
very young children. These men and their wives, snatching up their
children, fled along the bank of the Waipaua, making for Turanganui,
but the firing before them became so heavy they feared they would
be intercepted, so they decided to cross the Waipaua, and escape to
Murewai, on the coast, by the right bank of the river. The Waipaua,
except at the few fords, is generally deep, but although some of the
women were nigh drowned, they got to the other side, and made for the
village of Tutari, a good man and faithful chief. He received them
kindly, and shewed them best how to escape. He was urged to fly with
them, but, being very ill, declined. He afterwards lost his life and
those of two children for assisting the Europeans. Messrs. Wyllie,
Firmin, and the rest pursued their way, overtaking other families
as they advanced. Finally, they overtook Major Westrupp. Under his
guidance, the survivors south of the Waipaua retreated by a fearful
bush country to Mahia, where most of them shipped for Napier, the
capital of Hawke’s Bay province, at which place they safely arrived.
About an hour after Firmin and his neighbours left the village where
the chief Tutari lived, Te Kooti and 12 Hauhaus arrived, and demanded
where the Europeans had gone. Tutari declined to tell, though Te Kooti
promised to save his life if he would say which route they had taken.
Finding threats and entreaties of no avail, Tutari and his two children
were taken a few yards away from the house, and killed by Te Kooti’s
orders. Tutari’s wife sat near with her uncle, compelled to witness
the murders. When her husband and children were dead, she was asked
to reveal by what road the white men went. She, too, was faithful.
She pointed out a track which the fugitives had _not_ taken. One of
the Europeans, Mr. Wyllie, was especially obnoxious to Te Kooti, for
it was Mr. Wyllie who helped to capture Te Kooti in 1865. After being
mis-directed, Te Kooti rode off laughing, saying he would cut slices of
flesh off Mr. Wyllie until the latter died. Tutari’s wife, Miriama, was
spared, and afterwards escaped to Turanganui.
About half-a-mile from Firmin’s house, Messrs. Hawthorne and Strong
resided. They, too, were warned on Tuesday morning, first by Mr.
Benson, and directly after by Sergeant-Major Butter. Mr. Butter had
been to Taureka, a station owned by Messrs. Dodd and Peppard, where
he intended to assist in shearing. Arrived at the wool-shed, which
stood about 400 yards from the dwelling-house, he was attracted by
a furious barking from the chained-up sheep dogs, and wondered to
see no one about. So he walked up to the house, and round it. At the
back door he found Dodd and Peppard lying dead in their shirts on
the threshold. Throwing down his shears, he rode away to the Mission
premises at Waerenga-ahika, where he and other people usually resided.
After warning the inmates of Waerenga-ahika, he made for Hawthorne
and Strong’s, who with one friend and a servant lad escaped. It was
afterwards ascertained that one of Dodd and Peppard’s men got away
three miles on his road to alarm Major Biggs, but was overtaken in his
night-clothes by the murderers of his employers and killed. Sergeant
Butter pursued the road to Matewhero, and had a narrow escape. As he
neared the residence of Major Biggs, where he was bound, he found the
Hauhaus were inside the premises, and their horses fastened to the
garden fence to the number of 12 or 14. He found all the habitations
between Matewhero and Turanganui deserted; every one, Europeans and
natives, who escaped, were flying for life, and several houses were
already in flames. About two miles from Matewhero, he passed Mr. Mann’s
house. Mann was lying dead, shot and tomahawked; his wife was mutilated
and partly burnt; and their baby stabbed in several places. Mr. Mann’s
family resided nearer Turanganui than other victims, and his place
marked the limit of the massacre in that direction.
Captain Wilson’s house was the first attacked at Matewhero. It stood
in a garden, and was nearly equi-distant from most of the other
residences at that place. The Wilsons’ premises, indeed, were centrally
situated, being surrounded on all sides by those of their neighbours,
at distances varying from a quarter to less than half-a-mile.
The assassins, guided by three resident and professed “friendly
natives” of Poverty Bay, came to Captain Wilson’s house on the night of
Monday, November 9th. The family had retired to rest with the exception
of Captain Wilson, who sat up late writing letters for the English
mail, which was to leave next day. It was probably 12 or 1 o’clock
when the Hauhaus knocked at his door and told him they had brought
a letter from Hirini-te-Kani, the principal chief of Poverty Bay.
Captain Wilson appears to have suspected mischief, and told them to put
the letter under the door. Looking out, he saw a great many natives
flitting about, and, calling to his servant, Edward Moran, who slept
in an out-building, told him the Hauhaus were upon them, and desired
him to come to his assistance, which Moran immediately did, though the
Hauhaus tried to catch him as he ran across the open space between the
two buildings. They appear to have been afraid to fire, lest they might
rouse the sleeping neighbours. Finding they could not induce Captain
Wilson to open the door, the Hauhaus proceeded to burst it in with
a log of wood. After they had battered down the door, however, they
feared to enter the house, knowing it would cost some of them their
lives, as Captain Wilson bore a well-deserved reputation for resolute
bravery. For some time Captain Wilson and Moran kept the murderers
at bay, but at last the Hauhaus set fire to both ends of the house.
Captain Wilson even then defended his home to the last extremity, and
only left it when the flames had singed his wife’s hair and scorched
his children’s feet. Captain Wilson headed his family in their retreat
from the burning mansion, revolver in hand, and his undaunted carriage
appears at that terrible crisis to have cowed his murderers. The family
comprised Captain Wilson, Mrs. Wilson, four infant children, and the
servant Moran. As the little party left the house, the Hauhaus assured
Captain Wilson they had made up their minds not to kill him or his
family. There was just a chance they might keep their word; the enemy
were numerous, and it is probable considerations connected with the
safety of his wife and little ones induced him to put faith in the
asseverations of the cowardly wretches, who were all armed with rifles
and bayonets. To prove their good intentions, one of the Hauhaus took
up one of the children to carry. Captain Wilson, his wife, and Moran
carried the others, and the party, Hauhaus included, proceeded towards
Goldsmith’s house, about a quarter of a mile distant. After walking
about 200 yards, a Hauhau rushed upon Moran and knocked him down.
Another stabbed Captain Wilson with a bayonet in the back. He fell with
his little son James (whom he carried) uttering a dying exclamation.
The little boy extricated himself from his dying father, and got
away in the dark to some scrub. Mrs. Wilson, hearing her husband’s
death-cry, turned round and uttered an exclamation of horror. The same
instant she was thrust through the body with a bayonet, her arm being
likewise pierced whilst trying to defend her baby. She fell insensible,
and received several other bayonet wounds, to the number of four or
five, besides being beat on the breast with the butt end of a rifle.
Yet she survived for several weeks, and related how, when she became
conscious the following day, she saw all her family lying dead around
her, with the exception of her boy James. All that day (Tuesday) she
lay unable to rise, with the murderers in sight, busy at their awful
work. Whilst she lay helpless, a “friendly” native came and robbed her
of her shawl, leaving her attired only in her night-dress. On Wednesday
she managed to crawl to what had been her home, and got some water.
Still the Hauhaus were about, and many buildings were being fired, at
or near Matewhero; but she contrived to reach a little outhouse left
standing on her grounds, and hid herself.
In the interim, her little boy, eight years of age, after escaping
from the murderers, wandered about for several days, unperceived by
the Hauhaus, though one night he slept in a house to which they came.
He appears to have confined his rambles to Matewhero and its vicinity,
supporting himself by food found in those houses not then destroyed.
He said he “did not think it would be exactly stealing,” as “everybody
had run away.” He saw, he thought, “as many Hauhaus as would fill the
Turanganui redoubt.” One day he went back to his old home, and found
his “father, and brother, and sisters, with Moran, all dead,” and
wondered “what the Hauhaus had done with his mother,” but “thought they
must have eaten her.” After all the houses were burnt at Matewhero, he
went “home,” and found his mother in the little out-house, to their
mutual surprise and delight. Here he subsisted her for several days
upon eggs and whatever he could forage. At last the poor lady got a
card and pencil from her husband’s coat-pocket, and contrived, after
four hours’ labour, and many failures, to write the following:—
Could some kind friend come to our help, for God’s sake. I am
very much wounded, lying in a little house at our place. My
poor son James is with me. Come quick.
ALICE WILSON.
We have little or no clothing, and are in dreadful suffering.
This note, after several attempts to reach Turanganui, six miles
distant, was delivered to Major Westrupp, at that place, by the little
boy, who had been picked up not far from Turanganui by a party sent
out on the 16th to rescue missing settlers, if alive. On the same day,
Mrs. Wilson was brought to Turanganui on a litter. She was tended with
the greatest solicitude, but though she rallied for a time, and was at
one time thought to be out of danger, she ultimately succumbed to the
terrible injuries she had sustained. She died in Napier in December,
and her death is thought to have been hastened by the intelligence
of the Pipiwhakau affair, which occurred whilst Mrs. Wilson was on
board the Sturt steamer, in which vessel she had engaged a passage
for Napier. Few ladies have lived through such afflictions as those
witnessed and suffered by Mrs. Wilson.
It appears to have been Te Kooti’s intention to first kill those
officers who had distinguished themselves in 1865, judging the
settlers, if deprived of their leaders, would become confused, and
so fall an easy prey. There is no doubt Te Kooti was right in his
conjectures, as the result proved. Had Biggs, Wilson, or even Walsh
survived, many of the murders would not have occurred, for neither of
those officers would have remained cooped up in the Turanganui redoubt
to witness the wholesale destruction that ensued. Knowing this, they
were marked first for destruction.
The dwelling of Major Biggs, the Resident Magistrate, was rather
more distant than several others from Captain Wilson’s house, yet it
was the second residence attacked at Matewhero; and it is a singular
circumstance that no one at Matewhero seems to have known what
transpired at Biggs’ or Wilson’s until all was over—screams, shots,
and flames alike appear to have been neither heard or seen.
About dawn of the 10th, Major Biggs and family were roused from their
beds by a knocking at the back door. Upon opening it, Major Biggs, who
was followed by a servant lad, was immediately shot, and fell whilst
telling the lad to get his rifle. The boy ran to the front door, but
was met by a number of Hauhaus. Making for the back door, he fell over
the wounded Major, but got up and ran out into a flax bush. As he lay
concealed, he heard Major Biggs calling to his wife, “Emily, dear, the
Hauhaus are here, run for the bush.” The poor lady would not leave her
husband, but stood by him with her baby in her arms. She had not long
been married. Her servant, Mrs. Farrell, in her turn, would not desert
Mrs. Biggs, to whom she was much attached. So they all died together.
They were awfully mutilated. From his retreat the boy heard their
dying groans. Afterwards, settlers flying for their lives witnessed
the ghastly spectacle. The boy alone escaped to tell the sad tale.
He hastened as soon as he could emerge from his hiding place to warn
the neighbours, and by his means many ladies and children escaped to
Turanganui in their night-clothes. He was subsequently rewarded by the
inhabitants of Auckland, who invested a handsome sum for his benefit.
It is not intended to enter into a minute relation of all the horrid
butcheries which took place on that fatal 10th November. In two
days, 29 Europeans and 32 loyal natives were killed under revolting
circumstances. Subsequently, many loyal natives were butchered by
Te Kooti at various times. Some hapus of tribes have been well nigh
exterminated, and, including natives killed at Ngatapa, most of whom
had been carried captives to that stronghold by Te Kooti, the loss of
life must have been very great—probably not less than 250 people in
all were slain. Some settlers escaped the massacre by miracle, but
the instances are too numerous to record them all. Mr. Daniel Munn
and Mr. T. Goldsmith were both riding towards Matewhero to ascertain
the meaning of shots heard so early in the morning. The former found
himself amongst the Hauhaus before he was aware, and barely escaped
with a severe bullet wound. The latter rode up to the assassins of the
Mann family, who were busy burning the body of Mrs. Mann. Goldsmith
seems to have been stupified by the horrid sight, until a Hauhau
snatched at his bridle. Fortunately his horse swerved and galloped off,
and his master, being a good rider, escaped, though he was chased for
several miles. Mrs. James, who had not long been confined, hid with her
children for hours in some scrub close to her burning house; and one
old man named Garland passed Lieut. Walsh’s house whilst the murderers
were firing into it.
The exact mode by which many people died we shall perhaps never know.
Lieut. Walsh, who had greatly distinguished himself on one occasion,
was shot with his wife and child. Mr. Walsh’s partner, Mr. Padbury, was
killed at the same time. Mr. Cadel, a storekeeper, just about to be
married, and a very amiable man, fell shot in front of his store. His
faithful retriever dog preserved Mr. Cadel’s body from mutilation by
pigs for eight days, having never deserted it from the 10th to the 18th
November. Mr. M‘Culloch was shot whilst milking. His wife and child
fled to the scrub, but were overtaken and killed. Mrs. M‘Culloch’s
brother, a child, standing by her when she was bayoneted, escaped to
reach Turanganui unhurt. Many people, after lying concealed for awhile,
contrived to get off clear, all in a pitiable plight, with nothing on
them but the clothes—chiefly night-dresses—in which they escaped. Mr.
and Mrs. Newnham, an aged couple with an adopted child, were beguiled
into the belief that the Hauhaus would not hurt them, by two old Maori
spies. These spies brought the murderers to Newnham’s house on the
succeeding day, November 11th. The Newnhams were killed; but Mr. Brown,
a neighbour, saw the murderers coming from Newnham’s to his house,
and escaped across a muddy river, whither the Hauhaus declined to
follow him. One of the spies was afterwards taken, but was let off in
a shameful way by the authorities, as were many other Hauhau villains.
The reason why they were allowed to escape the halter was this—in
most cases the murderers were connected with friendly natives, and it
was thought desirable not to offend those “friendlies,” as they might
prevent a settlement of the land question.
Two principal rivers divide the Poverty Bay plains—the Waipaua and the
Waimataha. With the exception of Messrs. Dodd and Peppard, no Europeans
were killed south of the Waipaua until a later date, when one man and
three boys lost their lives at Pipiwhakau, whilst Colonel Whitmore
looked on at the head of 400 men, he being busily engaged at the time
settling the land question in conjunction with Mr. Richmond.
It was between the Waipaua and the Waimataha that the massacre of the
10th and 11th November, 1868, was perpetrated. All the Europeans who
lived between those rivers and escaped the slaughter fled to Wilson’s
redoubt, situated on the north side of Waimataha, opposite Turanganui,
at a distance of a quarter of a mile from the sea. Most of the settlers
reached the redoubt on the first day of the massacre, and were joined
by the scouts on the evening of the same day. The scouts were 12
in number. They were commanded by Lieut. Gascoigne, some of whose
relatives were lately destroyed in the massacre at the White Cliffs,
Taranaki. The scouts had been set to watch the passes into Poverty
Bay for a few weeks before Te Kooti’s arrival. No blame can fairly be
attached to the scouts, because Te Kooti evaded their notice. They
were far too few to keep efficient watch over a tract of country 40
miles by 20. The blame, if any, must be attributed to the Government,
who would not even have appointed scouts if the Poverty Bay settlers
had not first taken the matter in hand. Great credit is due to the men
for forcing their way to Turanganui at all hazards, when intelligence
of the massacre reached them, instead of escaping to Mahia, as they
might have done. Their arrival was gladly hailed by the few survivors
who escaped to Turanganui, and but for the scouts the redoubt could
not have been held in case of an attack by the Hauhaus. On the second
day of the massacre, several missing settlers reached the redoubt,
after narrow escapes. At the same time, some doubtful friendly natives
arrived. A few days later, all the remaining Turanga natives, except
those residing at Muriwai, joined Te Kooti. Most of them voluntarily
went over to the enemy. Of the latter, many afterwards fell into our
hands, but were almost invariably “let off” whenever they chanced to be
in a position to assist in “settling” the Poverty Bay land question,
although some of them were known to be deeply implicated in the murders
of Europeans or loyal natives. Others of those who joined Te Kooti of
their own will deserted him afterwards, and “came in” with piteous
tales of the compulsion used by Te Kooti to make them join him. These
men, in almost every instance, deserted Te Kooti only through fear of
losing their lands. Some of them were employed by Government in land
negociations, and used their influence to enrich themselves by laying
claim to lands belonging to defunct loyal or Hauhau natives. In this
way, villains, who deserved the halter, have attained a status they
could never have acquired but for the massacre at Poverty Bay.
Those natives who resisted the blandishments of Te Kooti and his band
retired to Muriwai, an almost (to natives) impregnable pa, and joined
its defenders. There were several reasons for the Muriwai natives
holding out against the Hauhaus. They possessed and believed in a rival
prophet, who assured them Te Kooti would die by his hands. Besides,
their pa was very strong, close to the sea, and only six miles from
Turanganui, across the bay. From Turanganui they could and actually
did receive assistance from time to time, and they were perhaps
doubtful of the treatment they might receive from Te Kooti if they
surrendered. They numbered about 70 men, and could easily hold their
own; but although they remained nominally loyal, it by no means follows
they were heartily attached to our cause, and there is good reason to
believe that but for Mr. M‘Lean they might have fought against us. Had
they done so immediately after the massacre, there is little doubt
the quasi-Hauhaus who assisted to hold the Turanganui redoubt would
have deserted, and left the little garrison of 40 Europeans to be
overwhelmed by vastly superior numbers.
Through the exertions of Captain Read, all the women and children but
a few, who would not leave their friends, were safely shipped for
Auckland and Napier on the night of the 10th. During that day, Captain
Read toiled for many hours to overtake two vessels in sight, and by his
means the female part of the community were placed out of danger, and
by his directions, there being no one else left to take command until
Lieut. Gascoigne arrived, the redoubts were provisioned and prepared
for defence from the threatened attack on the morrow. That night of
the 10th will never be forgotten by the survivors of Poverty Bay. The
whole plain was lit up by blazing homesteads, which illuminated the
entire horizon, and enabled the pensive settlers cooped in the redoubt
to trace the passage of the vessels far out to sea which were carrying
away those loved ones they might see no more.
Every man who had them stood to his arms and lined the parapets that
night. About half the garrison was armed, including the “friendlies.”
Little dependence was placed in the native allies, as it was evident
from their demeanour and language they had no stomach for fighting.
Afterwards, when reinforcements arrived, they plucked up a little more
courage, but, as a rule, the friendly natives of Poverty Bay took care
never to expose themselves. In the subsequent fighting with Te Kooti
they had little if any share, which was reserved for the Ngatikahungunu
and Ngatiporou tribes.
A faint outline has thus been given of events that occurred at the
massacre of Poverty Bay. Some of the deeds perpetrated cannot be even
hinted at, and will never be generally known until the great day of
reckoning. Of the destruction of property, it is sufficient to say the
settlement of Poverty Bay, with the exception of Turanganui and four
or five houses, was annihilated; even the few houses left inland were
gutted of their contents. Former visitors would scarcely recognize the
district; friendly natives and Europeans alike suffered; cultivations
and gardens have been swept away, and, most of the fences having been
destroyed, live stock have been dispersed in all directions. The
fertile lands, unsurpassed by any in the colony, now lie deserted and
waste; and the few survivors, huddled together as close as possible
near the coast, have been forced to build a blockhouse upon the margin
of the sea; and the spot upon which Turanganui stands represents as
much of the Poverty Bay district as the colony can fairly call its own.
It has been shewn that this massacre was brought on by the refusal of
ministers to listen to repeated warnings. They were told by Mr. M‘Lean
and others what would ensue if Fraser’s force was withdrawn from the
East Coast. There is good reason to believe ministers were influenced
by envy of Mr. M‘Lean’s unrivalled influence with the natives, and they
have proved, by the animus shewn in their later dealings with that
gentleman, an exhibition of petty spite and malevolence which have
never been surpassed in the annals of New Zealand.
Nor are ministers alone to blame for such a sad calamity. There can
be little doubt that it was mainly owing to the representations of
their creature and tool, the officer commanding the forces, that
Fraser’s force was withdrawn when most wanted. Colonel Whitmore, by his
arrogant, insulting demeanour, had deeply offended almost the entire
population, European and native, of Poverty Bay. After his disastrous
defeat at Ruakiture, the Poverty Bay settlers were the first to expose
what has since been demonstrated—his utter unfitness for command;
and he never forgave them or lost an opportunity of venting his
petty spleen when he safely could. It is well known that previous to
Ruakiture he addressed a flattering “order of the day” to those Poverty
Bay settlers who accompanied him upon that disgraceful expedition, and
that afterwards, in the Legislative Council, he gave them unlimited
abuse.
Intelligence of the Poverty Bay massacre was received everywhere with
feelings of horror for the victims, and commiseration for the unhappy
survivors. The Province of Hawke’s Bay came forward with a large
subscription, and immediate aid for those who were most in want of
assistance; one lady, Mrs. Tiffen, raised a large sum in two or three
days. Taranaki the ruined sent a beautiful and touching address of
condolence, with offers of assistance. The kindness was keenly felt,
though the assistance was gratefully declined—for the reason that
Taranaki out of her slender means was already supporting many people
who had lost their all in that province. The distant province of Otago
offered homes to the survivors; and Auckland subscribed munificently.
Other provinces aided in the good Samaritan work; but it must be said
that Hawke’s Bay, a small province with not a numerous population,
exerted herself to relieve so much distress with a benevolence and
energy rarely seen; and it was natural it should be so, for the Hawke’s
Bay people saw what others at a distance could not see, and reflected
that the sad fate of Poverty Bay might some day become their own.