SPORT À LA LOST LEGION
I have previously asserted that this yarn is not meant to be a history
of New Zealand wars, nor do I wish to harrow the tender hearts of
gentle readers, should I be fortunate enough to secure any, by stories
of savage bloodshed or by describing gruesome details of war to the
knife. Yet, taking into consideration the astounding ignorance of most
well-educated English men and women concerning the history of the
principal colonies that now form the greater portion of the mighty
British Empire, I think I may be pardoned for recounting a few scenes
of the events, battles and hardships, willingly endured by the men who
actually won those colonies and rendered them habitable for a civilised
people. Nor do I think the men, rough, wild, undesirable ne’er-do-wells
as they mostly were, who recklessly risked their lives for that
purpose, should be entirely forgotten.
These scenes are not imaginary ones, evolved from my own brain, but
real occurrences; and the men, whom I am trying to describe, actually
lived, fought, drank, and were killed in the way I relate; alas, would
that I had a more gifted pen and a more artistic touch to depict them,
their reckless lives and their hard deaths.
However, as my pen is neither artistic nor gifted, nor even a
particularly good one to write with, I must jog on as best I can, in
the same way my gallant O.C. did, when, short of men and with plenty of
malignant, backbiting enemies in both Government and district, he made
head against the hostile Hau Haus.
After the fight at Pungarehu, fortune seemed for a considerable time
to have deserted us, which was not to be wondered at, for although the
Government provided more men, and we were reinforced by various parties
of volunteers, yet these recruits were, for the most part, new chums
of a very inferior quality. Indeed, most of them, having been enlisted
from among the scum and riff-raff of the big Australian cities, were
naturally very different from those old hands whose services the
idiotic Government had so cavalierly dispensed with, or who had been
lost through the wastage of war; and I was soon to learn the awful
difference of going into action with a lot of untrained, half-baked,
raw hands, instead of well-trained, reliable men.
Again the new-comers could not stand the physical hardships of
the work. They knocked up when marching and were not by any means
dependable shots or bushmen. So that the campaign dragged, for although
we made many attempts we never again succeeded in catching the enemy on
the hop as we had done at Pungarehu. In fact, on one or two occasions,
we received more than we gave, and although we did not, as yet, meet
with any calamitous disaster, yet, at times, we had to quit the bush
faster than we went in, having failed to do that which we went in to
attempt, and these failures so bucked up the Hau Haus that it enabled
Titokowaru, a savage and very fanatical chief, to draw numbers of them
to his flag, with whom for over two years he successfully opposed us,
during which period he administered two very serious defeats to the
colonial forces.
It was while on one of these numerous excursions I witnessed a somewhat
extraordinary instance of presentiment of death, which, owing to the
fact of the man who received the impression taking advantage of it,
thereby dodged the catastrophe. Here’s the yarn, deduct what moral you
will.
Among the friendly natives was one named Winiata, who was distinguished
for his great courage; and when, among a race noted for their
bravery, a man becomes so distinguished, there can be no doubt of his
intrepidity. In fact, not only by his own comrades, but also by the
white men, and even by the Hau Haus, no mean judges of courage, he was
regarded as the very incarnation of valour.
Now Winiata always led the van, and was the rear of the rear-guard
in a retreat, and his numerous acts of dare-devil recklessness were
the talk of both camps. Well, on one occasion, we were advancing to
attack a place, when to everyone’s astonishment Winiata hung back, and
instead of being leading man enacted the part of a timid skulker. This
surprised the O.C. so much that he asked the man what was the matter.
Winiata, without hesitation replied: “I dreamt last night I was leading
the van as usual, when we were ambuscaded and I was killed, the bullet
striking me on one hip and coming out at the other, so to-day I remain
in the rear.”
The column, at the time, was moving through dense bush, along a
footpath so narrow we could only proceed in single file, and a short
time after Winiata had unbosomed himself the enemy poured a volley into
the head of it, killing the leading file. Whereupon Winiata rushed
to the front and, pointing to the dead man, said to the O.C.: “Ah,
that’s the bullet which meant to kill me,” and true enough the death
wound that had killed his substitute was exactly similar to the one he
had dreamt was to have finished himself off. After this all the other
natives declared that Winiata’s god was a very powerful one and that
his mana (luck) was great.
I have, up till now, said but very little of the various ways in which
we tried to amuse ourselves when resting in camp or, as we now were,
marking time in our Hau Hau tail-twisting operations. True, we were
much scattered, being located in different forts, but our O.C., fully
recognising the necessity of allowing the men recreation, as all work
and no play makes Jack a dull boy, eagerly grasped every opportunity
of affording the men any amusement that lay in his power. So that we
indulged in an occasional cricket match, race meeting and athletic
sports, with now and then a camp fire and sing-songs.
[Illustration: TITOKOWARU.]
Some of the competitions were very good, as amongst such a mixed crowd
as ours there were naturally some really good athletes, not only among
the white men but also among the friendly natives, all of whom took a
very keen interest in the events. Of course, after one or two trials
the crack men were discovered, but we had such clever handicappers that
the interest in the various events was always kept up to the required
excitement pitch, so necessary to render this form of sport attractive
to the looker-on, and as there was much healthy rivalry between the
various posts there was no chance of the general interest in these
sports flagging.
It was through taking a very keen interest in my post’s chances for
distinction that I discovered a man who, had he been taken in hand and
been well trained and taught in his youth, would I am sure have turned
out to be one of the greatest athletes the world has ever possessed.
Strange to say the man himself, a London Cockney, was profoundly
ignorant of his own capabilities, and it was quite by accident I
discovered them. The way it was done is as follows.
A big athletic meeting was to be held at headquarters on Christmas Day,
at which each station was to be represented, and the rivalry was not so
much between individuals as it was between the various stations, one
garrison against another, also trooper _v._ footslogger, and the men at
my post were very keen.
We were, however, sadly in want of a sprinter and high leaper. I
could run and jump a bit, but then I had been beaten so easily on a
previous occasion at all these events that it was hopeless to expect
me to win on the coming one. True, we had a most reliable man in Tim
for the mile and the long jump, and although he also had been defeated
before, still, on that occasion he had been unfit, while now he was
in splendid trim, so that we had great hopes of him pulling off his
events, but I could offer no such excuses as I had been in splendid
fettle and had done my very best, but had not succeeded in getting
placed, as I had been fairly beaten by better men, and as I was by a
long way the best man at the post things looked very black for us, and
our hearts were very dark indeed.
Now among my men was one named Bright, who had been enlisted not so
much for his fighting capabilities, for he was no good either in the
pigskin or in the bush, but as a baker, and even as such he was a bad
one. Up to date I had never taken much notice of the fellow, except
perhaps on a muster parade, when I invariably had to check him for
general untidiness, in fact the wooden way he slouched about the camp
rather got on my nerves, and then his bread was often damnable.
One day, however, I happened to notice him on a bathing parade and
was much struck by the muscular development of his legs and thighs,
which without being abnormal had yet every appearance of possessing
extraordinary nervous powers.
That evening we were practising sprinting, at which he was simply
looking on, when turning to him I said: “How is it, Bright, you never
compete with the others?” to which he answered:
“Well, sir, I never tried to run or jump in my life.”
“Then,” said I, “it’s high time you did. Come and run over the hundred
yard course with me and do your best so as to try and push me.”
It could not have been called a fair race, as I was dressed in
flannels and canvas shoes, while he was togged in overalls with
ammunition boots, and of course my experience gave me an immense
advantage at the start, as when we jumped off I must have gained over
three yards. I was ahead, as I expected to be, when I had covered fifty
yards, and I expected to win easily, but all of a sudden he whizzed
past me as if I had been standing still, and although I strained every
nerve he ran clean away from me, beating me by fifteen yards or more. I
was simply thunderstruck. I had run and been beaten often before by men
whom I knew to be good men, but never had I been beaten like this, and
turning to one of the sergeants, an old public school boy, I asked him
how he accounted for it? To which he replied:
“There is only one way to account for it, sir. This fellow Bright is a
perfect wonder. Why, sir, when you had covered forty yards he was ten
yards behind you, then all of a sudden he seemed to start going and
appeared to go faster and faster every yard he ran. By Jove! sir, if we
had him at Lillie Bridge how he would astonish the world.”
Here was the chance of our winning the short races at the approaching
Christmas sports, so we promptly took him in hand to teach him to
start, run straight and all the other wrinkles of the running track.
Then happy thought! Why the blazes should not this ignorant lout be
able to jump as well as run? Faith it was worth while trying him, so
I bullied him till he did so, and found out he jumped like a sea-sick
kangaroo, with body and legs nearly straight. Teach the bounder to jump
like a Christian we could not, but by teaching him where to take off,
and keeping him hard at it, by the time the sports drew near he could
clear five feet six inches, which was good enough.
Well, this Johnny we kept dark, and all the men at my station saved
their money and formulated plans to get a bit of their own back, as
they all had lost heavily at the last sports, and they meant this time
to plunder the Amalekites.
The man who was first favourite for the hundred yards and the quarter
of a mile was a very smart young Australian who had run in good company
over in Victoria. He had won both events at the last contest and as he,
as well as two or three others, had beaten me easily then, and as all
hands fancied I was still the best man at my station, the foot gangers
thought we could have no chance, and were ready to plank their bottom
dollar against our winning a single event.
The long-looked-for Christmas Day at length arrived, and as the Hau
Haus were quiet all the men who could be spared from garrisoning the
forts gathered together at headquarters. Now, the rule was that only
two men from each station should enter for each separate event, so that
when myself and Bright entered for the hundred yards, quarter of a mile
and high jump it was considered our chance was nil, long odds being
wagered against us. In fact Bright’s slouching wooden appearance caused
unbounded merriment with much rough banter.
The troopers, so as not to spoil the market, had deputed one of their
number, who was supposed to possess great acumen and almost Satanic
finesse, to transact the wagering business on their behalf, those of
them being present strolling about bewailing their station’s lack of
chance, and the wily one received very long odds against our winning a
single event, being so cute that he filled his book before the sports
started.
The hundred yards race was the first on the programme, for which event
ten competitors toed the mark, and there was much chaff at the clumsy
way Bright took his place. The pistol was fired, and we jumped off,
Bright, of course, last of all, but before the ruck in which I was had
covered thirty yards he rushed past us like an express engine, and at
seventy-five yards had overhauled the leading man and challenged the
young Australian, Duff, who, running first and thinking himself quite
safe, was saving himself as much as possible for his other races. In a
flash Bright took the lead from him and, to the unbounded astonishment
of all hands, breasted the tape quite three yards clear in advance of
Duff, who, when he had recovered from his amazement sufficiently to
speak, ejaculated the word “D--n!”
Of course the footsloggers all swore it was a fluke and tried to
account for their champion’s defeat in various ways, with much vivid
language, while Duff allowed he had been caught napping, and asserted
that before such a thing should occur again he would jolly well go
to--well, a warmer climate than even that of Australia--and that in
the quarter of a mile he would make the ruddy dough-puncher long to
immolate himself in his own blasted oven.
Just before the race I scratched, as I wanted to see it run, as did
most of the other men. It was Duff’s best distance and we all knew he
would try his utmost, and although I had great faith in my neophyte,
yet it was a big order to expect him to beat a man with a known record
such as Duff had.
Well, the pistol cracked and Duff gained a lot of ground at the start;
nor did Bright, for the first fifty yards, seem to be able to set
himself going, but then he all at once appeared to get into his stride.
His pace increased in a marvellous manner, and he seemed to run up to
the others with an ease and rapidity I have never seen approached,
while before they reached the hundred-yard peg he had collared Duff,
who was leading. The latter made a game effort to retain his place, and
for perhaps ten yards or more did so, when Bright shot ahead, going
faster and faster, and without an effort ran right away, winning easily
by at least thirty yards.
This was a glorious victory, and when he had won the high jump,
clearing five feet seven inches, one grim old Maori chief gravely asked
me if I had imported the devil, and proposed that he should kill him
off-hand, as in his opinion no such common personage as a cook or baker
had any right to beat warriors or chiefs. He also stated he had for
some time entertained grave doubts of Bright’s respectability, as some
hot bread he had eaten of Bright’s making had given him a most infernal
pain in the stomach, so at any rate he thought he might tomahawk him
just a little bit in the way of utu (payment or revenge) for his dose
of indigestion. But then again on second thoughts his tummie-ache was a
thing of the past, his present need was tobacco, and as the fellow was
one of my slaves, perhaps if I handed him over a plug it might be as
well to forgive and forget. Needless to say he received his plug.
That day was a big day for the troopers, as Tim won both the mile and
the long jump, so after a good dinner my men returned to our fort
weighed down with plunder which the wily one had extracted from the
pouches of the footsloggers, and all confessed that even a rotten bad
baker may sometimes prove useful.
Among a crowd like ours there were, of course, some very queer fish,
men from every grade of society and every walk of life. To very many
of these, society had said good-bye without regret, and yet we had men
in our ranks who, but for a single failing, were fit to occupy any
position in the beau-monde they had quitted for ever. Nor had they all
been wrong uns; far from it, as many, like myself, had simply been born
unlucky or had not the means to retain the positions in which they had
been born.
One of the queerest of these fallen angels was a man who called himself
Barney Fisher, or the Arapipi spider. Who or what he had been the Lord
only knew, but he possessed gifts that would have made him a welcome
guest in any country house in the world. A superb horseman and good at
every outdoor game, he was equally proficient in those indoor pastimes
that make a man like himself so valuable to a hostess, who finds it so
hard to find amusement for a houseful of people on a wet day. He could
paint a picture worth looking at, write a song and sing it, although
the libretto, if similar to the topical chants he composed for his
comrades’ benefit, would not have been tolerated for a moment, dance
a breakdown or jig and drink ration rum by the quart without turning
a hair, besides all which he could talk fluently on any subject in
the world in most of the European languages and was as good-natured
and obliging as it is possible for a man to be. Over and over again
he received heavy remittances to take him home and on more than one
occasion took his discharge for that purpose, but it was no good,
he never got farther than the nearest town, where he could cash his
draft, which being done he would paint that town crimson until his last
shilling was blued and then return to the troop.
So used were we to these periodical absences that his horse and
equipments were kept ready for him and he would be received back with
open arms, one reason for which being that the said horse was such
a fiend that no other man cared to groom him, much less ride him,
although with Barney he was as quiet as a lamb.
Yes; the Arapipi spider was a queer fish, but we had one queerer still;
a tall, thin slab of a fellow who called himself Limbs, and was yclept
by his comrades the Duke of Limbs.
Standing over six feet three, he wore a close-shaved face, long as a
child’s coffin, the features of which always seemed set with such a
look of intense melancholic disappointment that the observer would at
once come to the conclusion that the wretched man had just murdered his
father for his wealth, and had then only found wild-cat securities.
Still he was a cheery chap in his own sorrowful way, and although he
was never known to laugh, or even smile, yet by his inadvertences he
would cause amusement, or sometimes even trouble, by perpetrating acts
which, if committed by an ordinary individual, would have stamped him
as a malignant _farceur_ or a practical joker suffering from liver.
He was, moreover, most good-natured, he would give away anything, but
like the gifts of the Greeks his donations at times were dangerous to
their recipients. Did he not on one occasion present old Paukino with a
Tongeriro (a seidlitz powder, so called by the natives after a burning
mountain that is always vomiting a column of steam), directing the
ancient warrior to first swallow the powders and then drink a pannikin
of water, a process that turned the respectable old man-eater into a
human volcano of the most active description, and cost me a gallon of
rum to pacify his infuriated relations, all of whom swore, and not
without reason, that his Grace had bewitched the old fellow.
His Grace’s strong suit, however, were his limbs, of which he had the
most perfect control (hence his title), he being the most wonderful
contortionist I have ever seen in my life, and he would frequently
raise a laugh on parade, while sitting rigid in his saddle, by
scratching the back of his head with his spurs, or by tying himself
into a knot on some equally inappropriate occasion. He was checked
frequently, but was such a good fellow, and made such splendid excuses
when carpeted in the office tent, that he escaped without dire
punishment, especially as the O.C., considering the men’s lives were
quite hard enough to be endured, set his face dead against drastic
punishments which would make them harder; but one day his Grace played
a trick that might have caused serious trouble. It happened in this way.
I have mentioned in a previous chapter how, during the shindy at
Pungarehu, we had captured nine prisoners, or rather nine Hau Haus
had surrendered to the O.C. on his promise that their lives should
be spared, and as it was a nuisance keeping these Johnnies alive in
a frontier post it was decided to send them, for safe keeping, to
Wanganui.
On the first night of their journey, themselves and escort were to
sleep in our fort, at which the Colonel happened to be sojourning on
the same night. Well, my guard took them over from the travelling
escort, and they were confined inside a somewhat flimsy hut in the
centre of the fort with a sentry inside to watch them, for which
purpose a stable lamp was suspended from the roof.
This was by no means a safe prison, but, as all the rest of the
detachment slept in the open surrounding them, there was no chance
of escape, especially as they well knew if they tried to play monkey
tricks it would be paramount to ordering their own funerals, besides
which, they had sworn to the Colonel that they would make no effort to
do so.
Well, the night waxed late; the camp, prisoners and everyone, with
the exception of the guard, the Colonel, myself and two other
officers being fast asleep. We officers were writing and drawing,
in fact assisting the O.C. with despatches that had to be forwarded
next day, when all at once we were disturbed by yells of terror and
consternation. To seize our revolvers and dash out of the tent was the
work of a moment, and we were in time to see the men spring to their
arms, while out through the flimsy walls of the raupo-built hut burst
the yelling Hau Haus.
In a moment they were seized, in fact they made not the slightest
attempt to run away, and in a few minutes were paraded before the
indignant O.C., who sternly demanded, “What the hades they meant by
making such an infernal clamour and trying to escape?”
To the charge of attempting to get away, a hoary-headed old cannibal
offered an indignant denial, and as for the clamour and hut-breaking,
that he declared was the Colonel’s own fault, as why had he shut them
up with the devil.
This defence amounting almost to a countercharge, made the Colonel open
his eyes. He was essentially a just man, and his great knowledge of
Maori character at once led him to believe that something out of the
common must have happened, so he ordered the sentry to be called, who
turned out to be the Duke of Limbs. On his stepping forth, the O.C.
demanded the reason of the turmoil.
Now the Colonel was quite ignorant of the Duke’s gifts, and he started
back, rubbing his eyes, but saying nothing, for, as he afterwards
confided to me, he thought he must have been mistaken when in the
dim light it appeared to him that the trooper, standing rigidly to
attention, all of a sudden elevated his right leg and scratched the
back of his head with his spur, at the same time answering in a most
lugubrious voice:
“Sir, I went on sentry at ten P.M. as second relief. I counted the
prisoners, saw the lamp was trimmed and then as the roof of the whare
was too low for me to stand upright I seated myself with my back to
the door and watched the natives. At eleven-thirty, sir, that old man
woke up and looked at me, when he immediately started yelling, which
roused the rest of the heathens, who all started yelling, jumping up
at the same time and bursting through the walls of the hut. I gave
the alarm and caught one by the leg, but he back-kicked me so hard in
the midriff I was forced to let him go. I did not use my weapons as I
feared injuring my own comrades, whom I knew to be outside, and whose
presence rendered escape impossible.”
“Quite right,” quoth the Colonel, but after listening to a long speech
from the ancient man-eater he continued: “It’s very extraordinary, but
the natives swear you are the devil and frightened them. What have you
got to say to that?”
“Simply, sir,” answered the unabashed trooper, “that their assertions
are neither complimentary nor truthful, as if I was his Satanic Majesty
I could find more congenial employment than being a trooper, and as for
frightening them, I assure you, sir, I never moved from the moment I
sat down.”
Again the O.C. interpreted to the still trembling natives, and again
an eloquent speech from one of them, at the end of which the Colonel,
turning to Limbs, said:
“Sit down at once in the same manner you seated yourself in the hut.”
[Illustration: DESPATCH RIDING.]
His Grace, looking if possible more doleful than ever, sank down on his
hams, crossing his feet behind his head, so that one foot stuck out
on either side of it, and then crossed his hands, still holding his
carbine in front of him, while with mournful eyes looking at his
commandant he said, “I always sit like this, sir, when resting.”
At once the Maoris yelled and tried to push their way through the
grinning troopers who hemmed them in, while the astonished O.C., who by
the way had never seen a circus in his life, threw himself back in his
chair and gasped.
“Sit down like that when you want to rest, do you? Then, in the name of
all that is righteous, how do you recline when you want to sleep?”
Without a word, and seemingly without an effort, the noble Duke gave
himself a twist and in the snap of a cap reversed himself so that he
stood on his feet, with his western parts elevated in the air and his
long, melancholic face upside down framed between his legs.
This transformation scene was greeted by another yell from the Maoris,
while the perplexed O.C., opening eyes and mouth, ejaculated:
“Well, I am damned. For God’s sake, man, get straight if you can,”
and then aside, “I wonder what in hades he will look like when he’s
dead.” For in a moment a respectable, if sorrowful-looking, trooper
was standing rigidly to attention before him. “Well,” continued the
Commandant, “I can’t punish the natives, that’s clear, nor can a camp
be alarmed for nothing, so, Mr Burke, be good enough to see this man
does nine days’ pack drill, and if that does not keep him straight then
lash a spare tent pole up and down his back bone--I fancy that will
fix him; and now, sergeant-major, relieve this tired sentry, let the
prisoners be taken back to the hut. Fall away, men; come, gentlemen,
let us finish our work.”