MY BAPTISM OF FIRE. OTAPAWA
We were roused from our slumbers at one A.M., but alas there was no
cocoa for us, and the pannikin of tea served out in lieu did not supply
an adequate substitute, but we had to make the best of it, and as we
were ordered to leave our packs behind us I for one did not grumble.
Our scouts had gone on two hours before, and when we had fallen in
Colonel McDonnell approached and gave Mr Roach his instructions. The
latter was standing in front of me, so close that I could not help
overhearing the conversation.
“See here, Roach,” said the Colonel, “the General has determined to
rush the pah with the bayonet, and I know the Maoris will stand. You
will advance along the road in line till you reach the bush, but as
both of your flanks are protected and the scouts are in front, you need
only take ordinary precautions. When you reach the bush extend your
men along the edge of it, your centre resting on the road, take cover
and wait for further orders, but on no account try and precipitate an
action. Von Tempsky will be on your left and will operate on the right
of the pah, and the Kupapas” (friendly natives) “are working round to
your right to hold the left and rear of the pah so as to prevent the
Hau Haus’ escape.” Then sinking his voice he murmured: “By gad, Roach,
the General is inclined to rush things a bit too fast to-day. I fear he
has not allowed the Kupapas time enough to get round, and if they don’t
the majority of the Hau Haus will escape. Now, time is up, move off
your men, good luck to you.”
I was centre man of the company that day, and as we moved in line I had
the advantage of marching in the middle of the road, which was fairly
smooth. The trail led inland and was well defined as it had originally
been a road leading to a fine farm, but the farm had been burnt and a
pah built there instead.
We marched steadily as we had only a short distance to go, and of
course no smoking or talking was allowed, and also halted frequently,
so that none of us were in any way fatigued.
Just as the daylight had begun to light up the top of Mount Egmont,
and we had covered about five miles, a long wall of dense blackness
appeared in front of us which we knew to be the bush, and we reached it
when it was light enough to see a man thirty yards from us.
Previous to this we had received the whispered order: “From your
centre, five paces extend.” So we were advancing in skirmishing
order, and when we were still some twenty yards away a whisper of
“’Ware scout” ran along the line as a dim figure stepped from behind
a tree and came towards us. This turned out to be George, who with
the tea-bucket on his head looked, in the dim light, a blood-curdling
apparition. As we had extended from the centre the road made a gap
between the two half companies, and being centre man I was next the
road on the right-hand side of it. Mr Roach’s position while the
company was in skirmishing order was also in rear of the centre, so
that he was alongside me when George met us.
“Well, George,” said he, “what have you got to tell me, and where is
Pierre?”
It is no good my endeavouring to try and write what George called
English. Talleyrand, I think it was, who said, “Speech was given us to
conceal our thoughts with.” Certainly Providence never expected George
to convey his in the English tongue, so I will transpose his jargon so
far as I understood him.
“The bush,” said George, “is not a mile through, and is fairly an open
one. The pah stands in a clearing about two hundred yards from the edge
of the bush on this side, but not so far on the other. On this side,
for more than one hundred yards the trees are cut down after you get
out of the bush, but the stumps are left, though the trunks and the
branches are all cleared away, as is also the brushwood. The stumps,
however, will give good cover. For a distance of eighty yards round the
pah all the stumps are pulled out, and there is no cover for a rabbit.
Over one hundred Maoris have come out of the pah and are waiting in
skirmishing order in the bush half-a-mile in front of us. Pierre is
still watching them.”
Just as George had finished, Colonel McDonnell, riding on a pony,
reached us, and having heard the report, said: “Roach, the General has
determined to attack as soon as he arrives, although I am sure the
Kupapas will not have had time to come up. I am going to prolong your
line of skirmishers to the right with Northcroft’s party, who will try
and overlap the left of the pah. The Maoris who are in front of you
will not offer a strenuous opposition, it’s their dart to try and draw
you on to attack the pah. You will therefore drive them back across the
ground on which George says the tree-stumps are still standing. When
you reach the far edge of it take cover and try to smother the Maoris’
fire from the trench. The 14th and 57th are to rush the place. When the
storming party has passed through your skirmishers sit tight until you
are sure they have entered the works. If you see they have done so with
a good chance of success, double your men, as fast as you can, round
the left of the pah to the rear of it, so as to try and cut off the
enemy’s escape. Should the attack fail, hold your ground till the last
gasp and cover the stormers’ retreat. I shall have the Rangers call
blown and the advance when I wish you to move. Here comes the column.
What a row they make!”
He was turning to ride away when his eye caught mine as I lay at the
foot of a tree. With a nod he said: “Well, Burke, so you are already
going to see some fighting. By Jove, if we could all get our desires
granted so easily, what a jolly world it would be!” and with a pleasant
laugh and another nod he rode back to the head of the approaching
column that was advancing with a jingle and row you could hear a mile
off.
The gallant Tommies were supplied with abundance of mess-kit, which
they carried loose in their haversacks, instead of the single pannikin
we carried on our belts, and this kit made a big rattle, besides which
there was the rumble and thump of the Armstrong guns.
I was meditating on this noise when our corps call, followed by the
advance, rang out, and in a moment we were in motion. Faith, it is an
anxious--I was almost writing a solemn--feeling that comes over a man
when, for the first time, he advances through a silent bush, knowing
full well that every step he takes brings him nearer to possible wounds
or death.
It is not like an advance in the open, where as one of a mass of men
marching shoulder to shoulder the numbers and continuity of comrades
gives one a sense of security and companionship, nor is it like sitting
on a good horse waiting for the trumpet call to charge, for then also
you have fellowship of the very best. But to skirmish through a bush,
even a fairly open one like this one was, is quite enough to give a new
chum a fit of the jumps, for a sense of loneliness comes over a man,
and the inclination to close in becomes intense. This, however, was not
to be thought of, and I found myself boiling with excitement, keeping
my line easily as I worked alongside the road, and instinctively moving
forward with the others.
Occasionally I could see Tim, who was next me on my right, and
sometimes three or four others as we moved rapidly from tree to tree;
but still the dim light of the bush, its intense silence and the
ghostly, gliding figures were conducive to serious thoughts, while once
the bell-like note of the Tui bird made my heart jump into my throat.
Nearer and nearer we glided towards where, we knew, the line of savages
was awaiting us, and Mr Roach had just taken up his position by me as I
crouched forward to my next cover and knelt down on a mass of dry fern
that lay against the root of the tree.
Holy Moses! I nearly jumped out of my skin, and could scarcely smother
a yell of consternation as I felt the fern heave under me, and heard a
voice whisper: “If Monsieur will have the goodness to remove his knee
from off my back I will get up.”
I at once rolled over, when Pierre wriggled, like a snake, backwards
from under his cover, at the same time placing his finger on his
lip and extracting from its hiding-place his cherished _batterie de
cuisine_, which he placed carefully on his head.
“Not more than fifty paces in front,” he hissed to Mr Roach, who
nodded, and I slid on to the next tree, then to another.
I peered into the bush in front but could see nothing. Mr Roach again
joined me and again nodded, and once more I crawled forward. I was
under a low punga (tree fern), making for a big rata-tree some twelve
feet farther on, when a rush of flame and smoke darted out of the
bushes not twenty yards in front of me, and I heard the fern leaves
just over my head torn to ribbons, while the howl of the slugs through
the air and the crash of the volley sounded simultaneously.
One spring took me to the rata-tree, round the root of which I peered,
but saw no meat to fire at. I glanced to my right. Tim was on his face
taking aim, and I could hear the crack, crack of individual carbines
answering the volley, which in another second was repeated.
A few moments before the bush had been as silent as a grave, but now it
was an inferno; fire darted from the roots and from the sides of the
tree-trunks in front of us, while yell after yell tore the disturbed
air; and the smoke from the black powder either lay low on the ground
or curled in spiral wreaths up through the trees.
Nor were our own men silent, as cheer after cheer answered our
opponents’ yells, and carbine shots rang out all along the line.
Up to this I had not fired a shot, as I had seen no one to fire at, and
an intense longing to advance came over me, so spotting a tree some
six or seven yards farther on I ran, crouched up and bending low to
it, throwing myself down on my face at the foot of it just as a piece
of bark the size of my hand was torn from its hole and the deflected
bullet passed me with an angry whir that sounded extremely unhealthy.
My idea of advancing must have come to many others simultaneously, for
I saw several men rush forward to fresh cover, and we were now in the
enemy’s smoke, that hung close to the ground, and had to breathe the
saltpetre befouled atmosphere.
Another advance and we were already on the position the Maoris had
originally occupied; it was therefore quite evident they were giving
ground, besides which the distance between us had increased, as we
could tell by the sound of the reports of their firelocks, for they
still continued to fire heavily although only an occasional shot was
fired by our men in reply.
“Forward!” shouted Mr Roach, and the word was echoed along the line,
and we shoved ahead, although we still took cover.
Soon the trees grew thinner, and we increased our pace, until it became
a running fight which rapidly turned into a pursuit, and as we cleared
the bush we saw a long line of Maoris making off as fast as they could
towards the pah.
At these we fired a volley and pressed on loading, in doing which I
experienced much difficulty in getting hold of a cap and placing it on
the nipple of my carbine. The clearing was, as George had described it
first of all, some hundred and fifty yards of ground with the stumps
still standing in it, and then perhaps sixty or seventy yards of ground
scraped as bare as the palm of your hand.
Firing ceased entirely as we crouched and crawled from stump to stump,
and we took advantage of this to correct our intervals and the dressing
of the line, while word was passed from both ends of it that with the
exception of a few chips being knocked off no one was hurt.
Presently we came to the end of the stumps, where, in accordance with
orders, each man lay down behind the most suitable cover he could
select and waited for what was to eventuate. And now while we are
waiting there, let me try and give you an idea of the pah.
Less than eighty yards in front of us, and for about one hundred
and twenty yards in length, stretched a fence, flanked at both ends
with well-formed bastions that looked, from where we lay, flimsy to
a degree, it being composed of straight sticks of unequal length,
say from fourteen to twenty feet long, and about the thickness of
an ordinary broomstick. These were not placed touching one another,
nor stuck into the ground, but lashed two or three inches apart to
stout cross-pieces and suspended a few inches above the ground, the
cross-pieces in their turn being lashed to trunks of trees or stout
posts sunk deep into the earth at intervals of from twenty to thirty
feet. This fence, as I said, looked flimsy, but it was not, as the
sticks it was composed of were manuka saplings, a wonderfully tough,
hard wood, quite unbreakable, while should artillery be brought to
bear on it, a shell would only break one stick and the fence be still
impassable. Just in rear of this fence is a trench, dug deep enough for
the defenders to stand in and fire under the fence along the level of
the ground in front of it, and behind this trench is the earthwork and
the heavy palisadings of the pah itself.
The inside of the pah is connected with the trench by underground
passages, so that the defenders may take refuge inside, should the
pekerangi (outer fence) be carried by assault, but the natives regard
it as their principal bulwark, and usually try and bolt if it be
destroyed.
It had been in assaulting the pekerangi at Rangiriri and Orakau that
the British troops had suffered so heavily in the past, and it remained
to be proved to-day whether the pekerangi at Otapawa was to be the
scene of success or disaster to its gallant assailants.
[Illustration: MAJOR KEMP.
MEIHA KEPA TE RANGI-HIWINUI.]
“Burke,” said Mr Roach, “look at the foot of that post to your right
front; you will see the head of a beggar peeping over the edge of the
trench. Try and put him out of mess.”
Looking at the post indicated I could just see half a Maori’s head
peeping out, evidently trying to spot what was going on, so as directed
I took a steady aim and fired.
“Good shot,” ejaculated Mr Roach, “but I don’t think you got him, for
he ducked at the flash like a coot; anyhow you have given him a strong
hint to lie low, as you knocked a splinter off the post just where his
head had been. By Jove, here the column comes.”
I looked back and saw the head of the column debouching from the bush,
and when four companies had reached the open they wheeled left and
right and left the road clear.
“Wonder what they are doing that for?” soliloquised Mr Roach, but he
was soon answered, as over our heads shrieked an Armstrong shell, which
passed over the palisading and plumped right into the middle of the
pah, where it burst and kicked up any amount of row, smoke, dust and
bobbery. This surprise packet was quickly followed by several others,
and a burst of flame told us that some of the huts inside had caught
fire. Still not a shell had touched the defences, and as all the
defenders would be in the trenches it was not likely any of them would
be hurt. Subsequently it was discovered that only one man had had his
head blown off, which went to prove the inutility of bombarding Maori
pahs.
Suddenly Mr Roach shouted out: “Look out, men, the stormers are
advancing. Keep your eyes on the foot of the pekerangi, take good aim
and make the Hau Haus keep their heads down.”
Glancing round I saw the troops formed in two columns, and heard the
advance blown, but then had to concentrate all my attention on our own
business, which was to prevent the Maoris from raising their heads out
of the trench so as to take aim at the stormers. This we did, as the
moment an over-inquisitive Maori bobbed his head up to take a look or
get a shot three or four bullets would splash around it as a hint to
him to tuck in his twopenny.
Presently from the rear I heard the measured tramp of advancing
columns, and soon the order was given for the leading companies to
deploy, previous to making the rush. We were now very busy, as the
heads were popping up a dozen at a time, but as yet not a shot had been
fired nor a sound uttered from the pah.
The Maori individually is a vile shot and quite incapable of hitting
anything he aims at, at fifty yards from him, but when he fires a
volley from a trench with the muzzle of his firelock only an inch or
two from the ground that volley is a very deadly one indeed, especially
as the object is never more than fifty or sixty yards away from him,
sometimes closer. Again, most of them were armed with double-barrelled
guns, so that they could pour in a second volley at a storming party
more or less disorganised by the first discharge. A Maori moreover is
a cool, brave warrior, who is brought up to regard courage in war as
not only essential but also as the only quality by which he will be
remembered and his name honoured by his descendants.
I was lying behind my stump, with my eye fixed on the foot of the
pekerangi, when the trampling feet came up to me, and Colonel Butler,
with his sword drawn, passed within a yard of me. Behind him came a
party of pioneers carrying axes, while a few of them had charge of
a long stout pole to the centre of which was attached a long chain.
Close up behind these marched, in line, a company of the 57th, the old
Diehards, whose fathers had fought at Albuera as these men had fought
at Inkermann and through the Mutiny. Oh, but my heart did beat fast
at the sight of their gallant Irish faces, for at that time hardly an
Englishman was in the regiment, as they swung through our skirmishing
line and advanced to the grim and silent pah. On their left marched
another company in line, led by another field officer, Colonel Hassard,
and in rear came two more companies in support.
My work was now over, as the moment the attacking party had passed me
they masked the pah from my fore, though my comrades at the extreme
flanks were still firing as fast as they could load so as to cover the
advance of the forlorn hope.
Ye gods, how excited I was, an excitement equally shared by Tim, who
howled out: “Oh, begorra, Mr Dick, mayn’t we go wid thim, sor? Say the
word, sor, and let’s go.”
But it would not do. Discipline in action above all things, and we had
to remain spectators. The rear rank of the company had not cleared me
more than five yards when a tremendous yell rose from the pah and the
simultaneous roar of at least three hundred rifles and guns, while
sheets of lead crashed into the advancing companies, or went whistling
over our heads, which in a second strewed the ground with dead or
wounded men writhing in their agony.
For a moment the advance was checked and the line wavered. Good God!
surely these old Crimean warriors are not going to flinch! Not much.
For like a trumpet-call out rang Colonel Butler’s voice: “Steady,
Diehards, go back, or come on. I am going on. Charge!”
Did those grizzled old veterans hesitate? Not for a breathing space.
Their much-loved countryman and commander was in front of them, so was
the enemy, and with a yell wilder even than the Maori war-cries every
man able to move rushed forward. At the double, howling for blood, the
supporting companies rush past, a rush that the second smashing volley
of the Maoris, although it sadly thinned their ranks, could not check,
and in a few moments the whole storming party had launched itself
against the pekerangi. Would they succeed, or was it to be another
Rangiriri? Half mad, I jumped on to the stump that had sheltered me and
glued my eyes on the proceedings. Mr Roach and all my comrades had done
the same, and though the dense smoke hid most of the conflict from us,
still we could hear the ferocious yells of the natives, the cheers and
savage imprecations of our struggling men, while occasionally the ring
of the axe-blades on the fence reached us, although deadened, as they
well might be, by the continuous firing.
All of a sudden I saw the long pole that the pioneers had carried
launched over the fence, and my mind pictured the line of men swaying
on the chain. What’s that? as a triumphant shout is raised, and with a
rip, crash, down comes some fathoms of fence. Yell on yell goes up, the
shots lessen, the bayonets flash, the smoke blows away, and we can see
the wild Irish, cheering like mad, pour through the breach and into the
trench.
Did we cheer? You bet we did, and many a smasher hat was slung skyward
and many a laudatory cuss was cussed. “Who dare say a word agin the
Quane’s reglers now?” howled Tim. “God bless the boys from Ould
Ireland. Wud to God I was wid thim.”
But the pah is not taken yet, the earthworks and permanent fence still
remain to be negotiated, and we see the Tommies swarm up the parapet,
every inch of which we know to be flanked, and rush at the palisades,
giving one another backs to surmount them.
With his sword hanging to his wrist by the sword-knot, a young officer
is the first man up. He is on the top, grasps his weapon, steadies
himself for a moment, preparatory to leaping in, but throws up his
arms and falls backwards, dead. Now there are two men up, their rifles
hanging to their right shoulders by the slings, one falls back but the
other, regaining the hold of his rifle, jumps in. Before he can have
reached the ground three or four more are over, then a dozen, then a
swarm, and then, as Tim remarks, “they are lepping over like crickets,”
and the dust, smoke and yells float up to the bright blue sky.
But we are called to order, for Mr Roach shouts, “By the Lord, they’ve
taken it. On your right, close. Double!” and we rush to our right,
forming into a column of fours as we close in.
Small time is given to the men on the extreme left to join up, for in
less than a minute our O.C. gives the word: “Come on, boys, double!”
and we run as hard as we can round the left flank of the pah, and make
for the rear of it, taking no notice of the shots fired at us.
As we come round to the rear we catch sight of a long line of natives
evacuating the place and making for the bush, that on this side was
less than one hundred and fifty yards from the work, and we race to try
and cut them off. Many of them however are women and children, so we
do not fire, but our attention is speedily distracted by a sharp fire
opened on us from the bush.
Like a gate we swing round. “Extend and charge!” shouts Mr Roach, and
we rush at the bush full pace, reaching it two men short, and at once
take cover.
Here we have a pretty little skirmish, the natives falling back while
we press on for over half-a-mile, when a loud yelling proclaimed they
had been joined by another party. “By Jove, they are going to charge
us. Form groups!” shouted Mr Roach, and on this order Hutton, Jack and
Tim race up to me, Mr Roach also joining our group, all of whom have
good cover.
“’Ord blast this carbine,” growled Jack as a fresh yell rose from the
natives. “’Eyer’s this blankity blank powder-skin busted, and the ruddy
bullet’s jammed. ’Ord rot ye,” he howled, throwing his useless weapon
down and drawing his knife and revolver. “Come on, yer blankity blank
swine, and let’s get to handgrips with yer.”
“Dick, see your pistol’s clear for drawing; they are going to rush
us,” whispered Hutton, and we all stood wound up ready for anything.
All at once a dead silence fell that lasted for a few minutes.
“By God,” growled Jack, “I believe the rotten swine have cleared,” and
he picked up his carbine, withdrew the cleaning rod and proceeded to
knock out the jammed bullet. “Just like our ruddy luck, to be sold when
yer think ye’re in for a bit of sport,” and the bad words rumbled out
of the old buccaneer like the grumblings of a distant thunderstorm.
Jack was right in his surmises, for the cunning natives had pretended
to charge us so as to gain time to retreat. We were still chewing the
rag over our disappointment when from the rear our corps call sounded,
followed by the retire, so Mr Roach, after ascertaining we were all
present, reluctantly gave the orders to fall back on the main body, and
my first fight in New Zealand was over.
We fell back slowly, as, although no one was badly wounded, still some
of the boys had corners chipped off, and we parted with our friends
the enemy with regret. We made for the pah, retiring over the same
ground we had previously crossed, passing a strong picket of the 14th,
who, with advanced sentries, outheld the edge of the bush. Our two men
who had fallen in the open during our advance had already been picked
up, and we were soon back at the blood-stained pah itself. I should
have very much liked to have gone inside, but was unable to do so,
as no sooner had we reached it than we received orders to return to
camp and get ready for the next day. We therefore marched round the
flank of it, getting a sight of the breach in the pekerangi, and also
passed a long line of our dead comrades, whose remains we saluted with
shouldered arms; then passed the wounded, among whom the doctors, with
rolled-up sleeves, saws and knives were busy; and then, striking the
road, slung along it at a topping pace.
Missing Pierre and George I remarked the fact to Hutton.
“Oh, don’t you worry yourself about them, Dick,” quoth he; “and don’t
you fill yourself with mouldy biscuit. Pierre and George may not have
been the first men into the pah, but I’ll bet they got a start when the
looting began, and I’ll wager we shall have a good dinner to-night.
As scouts, you see, they have a fairly free hand, come and go as they
please.”
Hutton prophesied truly, for when we reached camp there the two
giddy marauders were, squatting over their pot like two disreputable
he-witches, and as soon as we had cleansed our arms, refilled our
pouches and washed ourselves, Pierre slung us up a dinner fit for a
duke.
An issue of grog that night loosened our tongues, and the fight was
fought over again many times, most asserting that if the General had
waited for the Kupapas not one of the enemy would have escaped; the
others, among whom were the most experienced men, declaring that had
the Hau Haus not been aware their retreat was open they would not have
stood, and we should only have captured an empty pah; but all hands
expressed their confidence in the General, their admiration for the
Tommies, and agreed that the capture of Otapawa had been a well-fought
action.
Yes, the capture of Otapawa had been a gallantly fought action, though
the escape of the bulk of the Hau Haus rendered the success almost,
if not quite, nugatory, and we had lost heavily. Colonel Hassard had
fallen, sword in hand, Lieutenant Swanson of the 14th was badly hurt,
while the long lists of dead and wounded nearly equalled the number of
dead Maoris found in the pah.
Again the natives were still in force in the bush, so the victory would
not enable one settler to return to his homestead, nor would it permit
any cessation of the campaign, for the Maoris had many pahs and only
regarded these places as a suitable battle-ground, the loss of one of
them not affecting their morale in the slightest degree.
I have stated that Colonel Hassard fell while leading on his men. Well,
the same night a yarn was started, how, or by whom, the Lord only
knows, but it ran like wildfire through the camp, and was implicitly
believed, that the man who picked him off was Kimball Bent, an infamous
deserter from the 57th.
This yarn, like many another lie, such as the “Up Guards and at them”
of the Iron Duke, the sinking of the _Revenge_, and numberless other
picket-line stories, crept into history and is believed by the masses,
but in this case the fact remains that the tribe who harboured K. Bent,
Esq., were not present in the action at all, and it is therefore most
improbable that the aforesaid scoundrel had any hand in the gallant
officer’s death.
Incredible as it may appear to home-staying people, there were
soldiers capable not only of breaking their oaths and deserting their
colours but also of joining the enemy, even when such an enemy should
be bloodthirsty, fanatic savages reeking with the blood of slaughtered
white women and children. Yet such was the case, and several of H.M.
soldiers did so; among others this villain, Kimball Bent.
This man was an Irish American who had enlisted in the grand old
Diehards, in which corps he worked in the armourer’s shop, being,
moreover, one of the best shots in the regiment. Having committed a
crime he was tried by court-martial, Colonel Hassard being president,
convicted and punished, whereupon he deserted and joined the Hau Haus.
Well the yarn went round that he had shot Colonel Hassard, and had
he fallen into the hands of his countrymen his end would have been a
very rough one, for anyhow he had fought against his own regiment, a
crime never forgiven by a British Tommy; so it would have mattered but
little whether he had shot Colonel Hassard or not. He was never taken
prisoner, but for all that came to a bad end, as Nemesis was on his
track, and his punishment was heavier even than it would have been had
he fallen into the clutches of his enraged comrades.
On his desertion he had joined the Ngatiruanui tribe, whose fighting
chief, Titokowaru, a fanatic and bloodthirsty Hau Hau, was the white
man’s bitterest enemy on the west coast, and who on more than one
occasion defeated us. As Bent was an armourer, and very useful to the
natives, he was at first well treated, and there is no doubt he fought
against his flag and late comrades with such savage courage as to make
a great reputation among the natives as a high-toned fighting man. But
he must have always been in mortal dread of his ferocious protector, as
he continually wrote letters, which he contrived to leave about so that
they should fall into our hands, bewailing his fate and begging for
mercy.
At last reports, circulated by some settlers among some friendly
natives, that Bent had offered to shoot Titokowaru, provided he
received pardon, came to that chief’s ears, who at once decided to make
away with him, especially as he had another deserter whom he employed
converting hymn-books, prayer-books, and goody-goody literature into
cartridges. He therefore gave orders for Bent to be killed, but the
latter’s suspicions had for a long time been aroused, and he never
moved without his arms, while his great reputation as a fighting man
also prevented a big rush of applicants for the job of executioner.
However, no man can keep awake for ever, and although the miserable
wretch knew men were ever on the watch to take him at a disadvantage,
he at last fell asleep in his whare (hut). The man who spotted him
crept into the hut and tried to tomahawk him, but through nervousness
only wounded him.
At once the intrepid scoundrel grappled with his assailant, overthrew
him, and would have killed him had not a number of others rushed up,
who cut him to pieces, his remains being then used as porkaroa (long
pig), a fit ending for a traitor to Queen and flag.
All the other deserters met the same or, in some instances, a far worse
fate, and the one or two of them who escaped and gave themselves up
were only too thankful to accept any punishment they received.
I must sue for pardon for this digression, but I have recounted it as
one of the thousand of facts that took place in the New Zealand wars of
which the good people in England are blissfully ignorant.
That night when orders were read out we were warned to hold ourselves
in readiness to march at daybreak for the Waingangora River, and on
being dismissed we hurriedly sought our mi-mis, so as to get as much
sleep as possible, for we saw the days were approaching when, as old
Jack remarked, it would be double watch on deck and no watch below.