SERGEANT-MAJOR LUCAS, OF THE 40TH REGIMENT, AND THE VICTORIA CROSS.
We had the pleasure, a few weeks ago, of seeing Lieutenant-General Sir
Duncan A. Cameron, K.C.B., the officer commanding the forces in New
Zealand, attach with his own hands the Cross of Valour to McKenna’s
breast, and declare, in the presence of his own regiment, that a more
chivalrous soldier had never been invested with this symbol of his
Sovereign’s favour. Sir Duncan, at the same time, expressed his regret
that he who had shared in the danger could not share in the reward, but
rejoiced to think that Corporal Ryan’s death was in keeping with his
life, which he had lost in trying to save a comrade from drowning. Three
cheers were given for Ensign McKenna, and none joined more heartily in
those cheers than Sergeant-Major Lucas, of the 40th Regiment, who had
received the same decoration from the hands of the general at the close
of the Taranaki war in 1861.
A brief sketch of the island, and the causes that have led to that and
the present war, will not be without interest. The aboriginal inhabitants
of New Zealand are known by the name of Maoris—a word which in their
language signifies indigenous to the soil—and are about 60,000 in number.
They are supposed to have emigrated, about four centuries ago, from the
Society and Sandwich Islands, and to have dispossessed another race,
many traces of whose existence are still to be found in New Zealand.
In appearance they bear a striking resemblance to those gipsies who
may still occasionally be seen in the neighbourhood of Norwood and the
Crystal Palace. They are a fine, powerful, muscular race, naturally fond
of war, and possessed of great energy of character. They have made great
progress in civilization since the island was first discovered, in 1642,
by Abel Tasman, a Dutch navigator, who named it after his own country.
It was visited in 1769 and 1777 by Captain Cook, who took possession of
it in the name of the English Government, and suggested that it should
be used as a penal settlement. He introduced pigs, cabbages and turnips
into the island, and his name is still familiar to the natives as one
of their greatest benefactors. There are several fountains known as
Cook’s Springs, and the rum he occasionally distributed among them is
gratefully remembered as “Te wai toki a rangi”—Cook’s sweet water of
heaven. While the natives were kind and hospitable to those who treated
them well, they were ever ready to revenge any injury they received, and
murdered the crews of several vessels of whose misconduct they had reason
to complain. Thus, in 1809, the sailors on board the _Boyd_, an English
ship, under the command of Captain Thompson, were massacred at Wangaroa.
This melancholy event was the result of the captain’s imprudence. Among
the passengers was a Maori chief, who had visited Sydney, and was now on
his way to his native land. Being short of hands, the captain requested
him to assist the sailors in working the ship. On his refusal to do so he
was tied to the mainmast and flogged. This degrading punishment roused
all the savage passions of his nature, but, disguising his feelings, he
persuaded the captain to visit Wangaroa, of which he was the leading
chief. All suspicion was disarmed by the friendly bearing of the natives,
who were only biding their time. Watching for a favourable opportunity,
they attacked the ship, and murdered the captain, the crew, and many
passengers. A similar calamity had overtaken the crews of two French
vessels, in consequence of their having unintentionally desecrated the
place set apart for the burial of the natives.
When the Maoris were plundering the _Boyd’s_ cargo, they came upon some
boxes of seed, which was scattered about as useless. It took root,
however, and in a few years the surrounding district was overgrown with
garlic and parrot’s-bill acacia (_Clianthus Puniceus_), which yields
a beautiful flower used by the natives as an ornament for the ear.
After this the island was little visited except by whaling ships (the
captains of which were sometimes so accommodating as to lend their ovens
to prepare the banquets of human flesh so much relished by the Maoris)
till 1839, when the New Zealand Land Company obtained a charter and
began to form settlements in the south. It is worthy of remark, that so
early as 1835 Great Britain formally recognised the independence of the
natives and bestowed on them a national flag; but no sooner had the new
company begun to buy extensive tracts of land from the natives, than
the missionaries interfered and induced the home government to send out
a governor. As a governor over an independent race would have been a
contradiction in terms, the difficulty was obviated by inducing a number
of natives to assemble at Waitangi, and to attach their signatures to a
treaty in which they acknowledged the supremacy of our Queen. Rum and
blankets were liberally distributed among the natives, who were ready to
sign anything. Such was the origin of the treaty of Waitangi, on which
alone our claims to the loyalty and obedience of the Maori race can be
said to rest. It was a mere farce, unworthy of the ministers of religion
who originated it—equally unworthy of the great nation who sanctioned it.
As well might the nine tailors of Tooley-street, who dubbed themselves
the men of England, have undertaken to dispose of the liberty of their
countrymen, as the signers of the Waitangi treaty to barter away for rum
and blankets the future independence of the Maori race. And yet it is in
virtue of this worthless document, the authors of which in any civilized
country would have been liable to an indictment for conspiracy, that we
profess to treat the Maoris as a subject race, and make war against them
as rebels when they try to assert their independence.
Notwithstanding the treaty of Waitangi, the Maoris continued to retain
their own customs, manners, and laws, and to act in every way as an
independent people. Their chiefs, far from acknowledging the supremacy
of the British crown, frequently waged war against us and with one
another. When they fell into our hands they were never treated as
rebels. In short the Maoris tolerated our presence in the island because
they found our colonists useful for purposes of trade; but when they
discovered that the British population was constantly on the increase,
and their lands fast slipping from their possession, they resolved to
assert their ancient independence, and to pass such laws as would prevent
the alienation of their property. They were willing that the colonists
should remain subject to their own Sovereign and laws, but they claimed
the same right for themselves, and in the exercise of that right elected
one of their chiefs to be Maori king, and formed themselves into a
league to prevent any lands from being sold by any individual member of
a tribe without the consent of the whole. Such a league would at once
be pronounced illegal in England, where it is a recognised principle
that every man has a right to do as he likes with his own; but the Maori
tenure of land is different. It rarely belongs to a single family or to
a single individual; it is the property of the whole tribe, much in the
same way as a common in England is the property of all whose lands are
adjacent. Every member of a tribe has the right to hunt and fish over
the land which belongs to the whole community; no man, not even a chief,
has a right to dispose of any part of that land without the consent of
the whole tribe. When a piece of land is sold the money is distributed
equally among all who are entitled to a share, the chief rarely retaining
anything for himself. The only way in which a piece of land can become
private property is by an individual selecting and cultivating it with
the consent of the tribe; it then belongs to all the descendants of the
original cultivator, who may be dispersed among other tribes, and it
cannot be sold without their consent. Now this peculiar tenure of land
was the cause of the Taranaki war of 1860-61, and of the present war in
which so many valuable lives have been lost. The establishment of a Maori
sovereignty would have ended in nothing; the Maori king was a mere puppet
in the hands of a few ambitious chiefs; the great body of the nation
would never have acknowledged his supremacy; and the movement would have
covered its originators with ridicule. But when the local government
interfered with the rights of property, and violated the first principles
of Maori law by purchasing from an individual land which belonged to the
whole tribe, and enforcing possession by violence, they struck at the
root of Maori independence, and brought on that fierce struggle of which
we have not yet seen the end. The Maoris are fighting for their lands and
liberty, while we are fighting for British supremacy. The settlers have
already more land than they can cultivate, but this has not prevented
them from coveting that which belongs to the natives. If they had waited
patiently, a period would have arrived when the Maoris would have seen it
to be to their own advantage to part with lands which they cannot turn to
any profitable account, but they were unwilling to wait, and endeavoured
to compel the natives to enter into their views. Such a policy was as
imprudent as it was unjust; there were few troops in the colony; and when
the natives flew to arms in 1860, the government had to appeal to the
Australian colonies for assistance.
The appeal was not made in vain; all the troops that could be spared
were despatched at once to the seat of war, including four companies
of the 40th Regiment, detachments of which were stationed at Melbourne
and Hobart Town. Sergeant-Major Lucas, who then held the rank of
colour-sergeant, arrived in New Zealand in 1860, and took part in all
the engagements we had with the enemy till the temporary cessation
of hostilities in 1861. The Maoris do not fight in the same way as
Europeans; it is part of their policy to avoid giving battle in the open
field. Their mode of warfare is to conceal themselves in the bush, and
to fire upon our men when off their guard; or to erect pas or redoubts,
surrounded by a ditch, and surmounted by wooden palisades. Inclosed
behind the walls of these pas, they coolly await the approach of our
men, and pour upon them destructive volleys while they are advancing to
the assault. When their position is no longer tenable, they evacuate
the pa, and such is their perfect knowledge of the country that they
often contrive to escape through the ranks of our men with little
loss. The evacuation of a pa is not considered a defeat; they select a
favourable site, and proceed at once to erect another, which has also
to be stormed. Many valuable British lives are thus lost, and the war
would be interminable, were it not that we may cut off their supplies and
ultimately starve them into subjection.
The late war was carried on in the Province of Auckland; but it was in
Taranaki, the capital of which is New Plymouth, that Sergeant-Major Lucas
won his laurels. He is a fine, soldierly-looking man, a native of the
South of Ireland. He entered the army at an early period of life, and
has served eighteen years in the same regiment. One of his brothers,
a soldier of the 40th, was severely wounded in the Taranaki war, and
allowed to retire from the service with a pension: he himself, though
he took part in every engagement, escaped unhurt, and now occupies the
highest rank that a non-commissioned officer can attain. The war in
Taranaki had been carried on with varying success till March, 1861: the
British forces under the command of Major-General Pratt had erected a
series of redoubts for the purpose of keeping the enemy in check and
protecting the town of New Plymouth. These redoubts were occupied by
detachments of our men, and skirmishing parties were daily sent out to
scour the neighbouring bush, where the enemy were known to be lurking.
On the 18th of March, 1861, a party consisting of about thirty men of
the 40th Regiment was sent out in front of No. 7 redoubt, situated on
the river Waitara, in search of the enemy. Between the redoubt and the
bush there intervened an open space of some eight hundred or nine hundred
yards in breadth, over which our men were allowed to advance without
resistance; but no sooner had they entered a narrow defile, surrounded
on either side by bush and fern, than a heavy fire was opened on them
by an invisible foe. Captain Richards, who was in command of the party,
threw out his men in skirmishing order, and ordered them to fire in the
direction whence the smoke proceeded. The enemy being concealed in the
bush had the advantage of being able to take deliberate aim, and several
of our men were killed or wounded. Lieutenant Rees, who was next in
command to Captain Richards, seized a rifle which a wounded soldier had
dropped, and encouraged the men by his example to keep up a steady fire.
At the same time he requested Colour-Sergeant Lucas to send two men to
remove two of the wounded who were badly hit. As the men were preparing
to execute this order, a fresh volley from the enemy placed one of them
_hors de combat_, and a bullet hit Lieutenant Rees in the right groin.
He staggered and fell, when Colour-Sergeant Lucas, with much presence of
mind, ran up to his assistance, and sent him to the rear under the charge
of the soldier who remained unhurt. Three wounded men and four stand
of arms still remained on the field, and the gallant sergeant resolved
to present a bold front to the enemy till he was relieved. Sheltering
himself behind a tree, he opened a brisk fire on the enemy, and kept
them at bay. So long as he remained behind the tree he was safe, but
whenever he left this shelter to take aim, he became exposed to the fire
of the enemy, who, deterred from advancing by his gallant resistance,
endeavoured to shoot him down. Two soldiers had the courage to stand by
him, and for a quarter of an hour they kept the enemy at bay without
being hit, though they were exposed to a constant fire from a distance of
only thirty yards. Several of the Maories were wounded, and carried off
by their companions; the brave little band, anxious but not discouraged,
still continued to hold out.
The amount of danger incurred by Sergeant Lucas may be learned from the
following incident:—The tree behind which he found shelter had several
creepers suspended from its top; a bullet from the bush hit one of these
creepers and cut it in two at the distance of a few inches from his head.
If the Maoris had been better marksmen the whole of the little party
must have perished, and the wounded men have fallen into the hands of a
relentless foe; but in moments of excitement the natives fire wildly,
without taking aim at any particular object. It was to this fortunate
circumstance that Sergeant Lucas and his two followers owed their lives;
the enemy were excited, and so fired without precision. As it was, they
were enabled not only to continue their resistance, but also to inflict
considerable loss on the enemy. For a quarter of an hour the unequal
combat was kept up till a party under Lieutenants Gibson and Whelan
came up to their assistance, on which the enemy retired. Only one of
the three wounded men recovered, and Lieutenant Rees, in consequence
of the severity of his wounds, was obliged to return to England. It
would be difficult to overestimate the importance of Sergeant Lucas’s
gallant conduct on this trying occasion; he prevented the bodies of his
wounded comrades from falling into the hands of the enemy, and saved four
stand of arms. Nor was this all: the moral consequences of his heroic
resistance were soon evident. The next morning the white flag was hoisted
by the natives, and this was the last engagement in the Taranaki war.
In August, 1862, Colour-Sergeant Lucas was appointed sergeant-major of
his regiment, and has continued ever since to discharge the duties of
that office in such a way as to secure the confidence and esteem of his
superior officers. His conduct was not overlooked or forgotten by the
general in command. A full account of the affair was transmitted to the
authorities at home, and the following notice appeared in the _London
Gazette_ of the 19th of July, 1861:—
“Colour-Sergeant John Lucas, 40th Regiment.—On the 18th of March, 1861,
Colour-Sergeant John Lucas acted as sergeant of a party of the 40th
Regiment, employed as skirmishers, to the right of No. 7 redoubt and
close to the Huirangi Bush, facing the left of the position occupied by
the natives. At about four o’clock P.M. a very heavy and well-directed
fire was suddenly opened upon them from the bush and the high ground on
the left. Three men being wounded simultaneously, two of them mortally,
assistance was called for in order to have them carried to the rear; a
file was immediately sent, but had scarcely arrived when one of them
fell, and Lieutenant Rees was wounded at the same time. Colour-Sergeant
Lucas, under a very heavy fire from the rebels, who were not more than
thirty yards distant, immediately ran up to the assistance of this
officer, and sent one man with him to the rear. He then took charge of
the arms belonging to the killed and wounded men, and maintained his
position until the arrival of supports under Lieutenants Gibson and
Whelan.”
[Illustration: Sergeant-Major Lucas, 40th Regiment, defending a position
against the Maoris on the 18th March, 1861.]
On the 2nd of November, 1862, all the troops in garrison at Auckland were
assembled on the racecourse to witness the decoration of Sergeant-Major
Lucas with the Cross of Valour. The soldiers formed a square, in the
centre of which stood General Cameron and his staff. The sergeant-major
took his stand in front of them, and the gallant old general, after
expressing his admiration of his conduct, which he invited his comrades
to imitate, placed on his breast that distinctive mark of his Sovereign’s
favour which is dearer to the soldier’s heart than any other. Our readers
will feel with us the hope that Sergeant-Major Lucas may long be spared
to wear it, and to take part in other wars reflecting more credit on our
arms and our honour as a nation than the present struggle in Zealand.
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