THE ADVENTURES OF
KIMBLE BENT
[Illustration: MAP OF TARANAKI, NEW ZEALAND.
(_Showing engagements in the Maori War_)]
THE ADVENTURES
OF KIMBLE BENT
_A STORY OF WILD LIFE IN THE
NEW ZEALAND BUSH_
BY
JAMES COWAN
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS
[Illustration]
WHITCOMBE AND TOMBS, LIMITED
LONDON MELBOURNE
CHRISTCHURCH, WELLINGTON AND DUNEDIN, N.Z.
1911
PRINTED AND BOUND BY
HAZELL, WATSON AND VINEY, LD.,
LONDON AND AYLESBURY.
PREFACE
This book is not a work of fiction. It is a plain narrative of real
life in the New Zealand bush, a true story of adventure in a day not
yet remote, when adventure in abundance was still to be had in the
land of the Maori. Every name used is a real one, every character who
appears in these pages had existence in those war days of forty years
ago. Every incident described here is a faithful record of actual
happenings; some of them may convince the reader that truth can be
stranger than fiction.
Numerous instances are recorded of white deserters from civilisation
who have allied themselves with savages, adopting barbarous practices,
and forgetting even their mother-tongue. In the old convict days of
New South Wales escapees from the fetters of a more than rigorous
"system" now and again cast in their lot with the blacks. Renegades of
every European nationality have been found living with and fighting
for native tribes in Africa and America and the Islands of Polynesia.
But none of them had a wilder story to tell than has the man whose
narrative is here presented--Kimble Bent, the _pakeha_-Maori. Ever
since 1865--when he first "took to the blanket"--he has lived with the
New Zealand Maoris. For thirteen years he was completely estranged from
his fellow-whites; he had deserted from a British regiment and a price
was on his head. British troops and Colonial irregulars alike hunted
him and his fanatical Hauhau companions. His hairbreadth escapes were
many; he had to risk death not only from British bullet and bayonet,
but from the savage brown men of the forest with whom he lived. When at
last he came out of hiding, and dared once more to face those of his
own colour, he had almost forgotten the English language, and could
speak it but with difficulty and hesitation. He has been out of his
bush exile many years, but is still living with his Maori friends,
and is still known by the Maori name, "Tu-nui-a-moa," which his chief
Titokowaru gave him in 1868. When he writes to me, he usually writes
in Maori, and he is practically a Maori himself, for he has lived
the greater part of his life as a Maori, and he has assimilated the
peculiar modes of thought and some of the ancient beliefs of the
natives, as well as their tongue and customs.
One of the most remarkable portions of Bent's narrative is his account
of the revival of cannibalism by the Hauhaus in 1868. Vague stories
have been heard concerning the eating of soldiers' bodies by the
bushmen of Ngati-Ruanui and Nga-Rauru and of rites of human sacrifices
performed in the woods of Taranaki, but this account of Bent's is
the first detailed description from an eye-witness of the man-eating
practices in Titokowaru's camps. Many of Tito's Hauhaus are still
alive; but they are very reticent on the subject of "long-pig."
I first met Kimble Bent in 1903. In that year Mr. T. E. Donne, now the
New Zealand Government Trade Commissioner in London, had induced the
old man to come to Wellington for the purpose of being interviewed and
photographed; and it is these interviews, very considerably expanded
during a seven years' acquaintance with Bent, and carefully checked by
independent Maori testimony, that are now embodied in this book.
In confirmation and extension of Bent's story, I have gathered data
at first-hand both from Taranaki Maoris who fought under Titokowaru,
and from soldiers and settlers who fought against him, and these
particulars are incorporated with the old _pakeha_-Maori's narrative.
The 1868-9 portion of the book is, therefore, practically a history of
the Titokowaru war in Taranaki; and it embraces a great deal of matter
not hitherto recorded.
Many of the settler-soldiers who survive from those wild forest days
now farm their peaceful lands within sight of the battle-fields of Te
Ngutu-o-te-Manu, and Pungarehu, and Moturoa, and Otapawa. With them the
recollections of bush-marches and ambuscades and storming of Hauhau
stockades are still fresh and vivid. But the younger generation know
little of the dangers and troubles through which the pioneers passed.
The available histories deal very meagrely and often very inaccurately
with the story of the Ten-Years' Maori War, even from the white side,
while the Maori view-point is absolutely unknown to all but a few
colonists. Therefore it is fortunate, perhaps, that one has been
enabled to gather before it is too late from the old Hauhau warriors
themselves the tale of their ferociously patriotic past, and to place
on record this true story of wild forest life from the lips of one of
the last of that nearly extinct type of decivilised outlander, the
_pakeha_-Maori.
For information and assistance in regard to various engagements in
Titokowaru's war I am indebted to Colonel W. E. Gudgeon, C.M.G.,
Colonel T. Porter, C.B., and other old Colonial soldiers. Tutangé
Waionui, of Patea, who was one of Titokowaru's most active scouts and
warriors, has given me many details concerning the campaign from the
Maori side; and the Rev. T. G. Hammond, Wesleyan Missionary to the
Taranaki Maoris, has also furnished assistance on the same subject. To
Mrs. Kettle, of Napier, daughter of Major von Tempsky, I owe my thanks
for permission to reproduce three of the illustrations in this book,
copies of water-colour sketches by her celebrated father, representing
scenes in the Taranaki campaign of 1865-6. The picture of the fight at
Moturoa in 1868 is from a black-and-white sketch by a soldier-artist
who took part in the engagement; the original was in the possession
of the late Dr. T. M. Hocken, of Dunedin, who allowed me to have it
photographed for this book.
J. C.
<sc>Wellington, N.Z.</sc>,
_Feb. 1, 1911_.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
THE DESERTER
On the banks of the Tangahoé--The runaway soldier--A
Maori scout--Off to the rebel camp pp. 1-6
CHAPTER II
KIMBLE BENT, SAILOR AND SOLDIER
Kimble Bent's early life--An Indian mother--Service in the
American Navy--Departure for England--"Taking the Shilling"--British
Army life--The flight to America--A sinking
ship--Rescue, and landing in Glasgow--Back to the Army
again--Soldiering in India--The 57th ordered to New Zealand--The
Taranaki Campaign--A court-martial--At the triangles pp. 7-21
CHAPTER III
THE CAMP OF THE HAUHAUS
In the Maori country--Arrival at a Hauhau _pa_--Maori
village scenes--The ceremonies round the sacred flagstaff--"_Riré,
riré, hau!_"--The man with the tomahawk--A white slave--The
painted warriors of Keteonetea--The blazing oven pp. 22-33
CHAPTER IV
IN THE OTAPAWA STOCKADE
The return from Keteonetea--The hill-fort at Otapawa--A _korero_ with
the Hauhaus--Bent's one-eyed wife--"The wooing o' 't"--Bent is
christened "Ringiringi" pp. 34-42
CHAPTER V
TE UA, PRIEST AND PROPHET
Te Ua and his gods--The _Pai mariré_ faith--"Charming" the British
bullets--Bent's interview with the prophet--His life _tapu_'d--Preparing
for battle--Life in the forest _pa_ pp. 43-54
CHAPTER VI
THE STORMING OF OTAPAWA
British forces attack the stockade--The bayonet charge--Flight of the
Hauhaus--Through the forest by torchlight--Doctoring the wounded--The
_tangi_ by the river pp. 55-65
CHAPTER VII
BUSH LIFE WITH THE HAUHAUS
Wild days in the forest--The Hauhau hunters--Maori wood-craft--
Bird-snaring and bird-spearing--The fowlers at Te Ngaere--The slayer
of Broughton--Another runaway soldier, and his fate--The tomahawking
of Humphrey Murphy pp. 66-77
CHAPTER VIII
THE HAUHAU COUNCIL-TOWN
Life in Taiporohenui--A great praying-house--The ritual of the
_Niu_--Singular Hauhau chants--"_Matua Pai mariré_"--Bent's new
owner, and his new wife--The tattooers--Another white
renegade pp. 78-91
CHAPTER IX
A FOREST ADVENTURE
The two eel-fishers--Bivouac in the bush--A murderous attack--The
Waikato's tomahawk--"Ringiringi's" escape pp. 92-101
CHAPTER X
THE WAR-CHIEF AND HIS GODS
The war-chief Titokowaru--Ancient ceremonies and religion
revived--Uenuku, the god of battle--Titokowaru's _mana-tapu_--Bent
makes cartridges for the Hauhaus--A novel weapon pp. 102-107
CHAPTER XI
"THE BEAK-OF-THE-BIRD"
The stockade at Te Ngutu-o-te-Manu--In the _Wharé-kura_--Singular
Hauhau war-rites--The "Twelve Apostles"--The enchanted _taiaha_--The
heart of the _pakeha_: a human burnt-offering--An ambuscade and a
cannibal feast pp. 108-118
CHAPTER XII
THE ATTACK ON TURUTURU-MOKAI REDOUBT
Hauwhenua's war-party--A night march--Attack on Turuturu-Mokai
Redoubt--A heroic defence--The heart of the
captain--Touch-and-go--Relief at last pp. 119-133
CHAPTER XIII
THE KILLING OF KANE
Bent and Kane brought before Titokowaru--Kane's flight--Captured by
the Hauhaus--A traitor's end pp. 134-138
CHAPTER XIV
ADVENTURES AT TE NGUTU-O-TE-MANU
In the midst of dangers--Bent stalked by Hauhaus--Old Jacob to the
rescue--"Come on if you dare!"--The white man's new Maori
name--Government forces attack and burn Te Ngutu-o-te-Manu--A new
use for hand-grenades pp. 139-144
CHAPTER XV
A BATTLE IN THE FOREST; AND THE DEATH OF
VON TEMPSKY
The second fight at Te Ngutu-o-te-Manu--Titokowaru's prophecy--Tutangé
and his sacred war-mat--Bent's narrow escape--Government forces
defeated--How von Tempsky fell--A terrible retreat--Colonial soldiers'
gallant rear-guard fight pp. 145-179
CHAPTER XVI
THE CANNIBALS OF THE BUSH
After the battle--The slain heroes of Te Ngutu-o-te-Manu--A terrible
scene on the _marae_--What Bent saw from his prison-hut--The
sword of "Manu-rau"--A funeral pyre--Priestly incantations--A
soldier's body eaten--Why the Hauhaus became cannibals pp. 180-194
CHAPTER XVII
SKIRMISHING AND FORT-BUILDING
Te Ngutu-o-te-Manu abandoned--On the march again--Skirmishing on the
Patea--_Pakeha_ in pickle--A new stockade--Bent the _pa_-builder pp. 195-200
CHAPTER XVIII
THE FIGHT AT MOTUROA STOCKADE
Kātené's vigil--Attack on the stockade--Major Hunter's death--A
Hauhau warrior's desperate feat--Over the palisades--Government
forces repulsed--A rear-guard fight--An unanswered prayer--Scenes of
terror--Tihirua's burnt-offering--A soldier's body eaten pp. 201-225
CHAPTER XIX
THE TAURANGA-IKA STOCKADE
Another fighting-_pa_ built--Scouting and skirmishing--The watcher on
the tower--McDonnell and Titokowaru--How Trooper Lingard won the New
Zealand Cross--Hairbreadth escapes--Pairama and the white man's
leg pp. 226-239
CHAPTER XX
A SCOUTING ADVENTURE
The passage of the Okehu--A night's vigil--Mackenzie the
scout--"Maoris in the bush!"--The watchers in the fern--A race for
life pp. 240-254
CHAPTER XXI
THE FALL OF TAURANGA-IKA
Shot and shell--The fort abandoned--Flight of the Hauhaus--The
chase--The fight at Karaka Flat--Mutilation of the dead--The ambuscade
at the peach-grove--The sergeant's leg--Rewards for Hauhau
heads pp. 255-261
CHAPTER XXII
THE FOREST-FORAGERS
Fugitive Hauhaus--Hard times in the bush--The eaters of
_mamaku_--Bent's adventure--Lost in the woods--Rupó to the
rescue--The _tapu_'d eels pp. 262-269
CHAPTER XXIII
A BATTLE IN THE FOG
The surprise of Otautu--An early morning attack--Kimble Bent's
dream--"_Kia tupato!_"--A gallant defence--Brave old Hakopa--Flight
of the Hauhaus pp. 270-276
CHAPTER XXIV
THE HEAD-HUNTERS
The skirmish at Whakamara--Hauhaus on the run--Government head-hunters
--Major Kemp's white scout--Sharp work in the bush--Barbarism of the
Whanganui--_Kupapas_--Smoke-drying the heads--A present for
Whitmore--The heads on the tent floor--End of the war pp. 277-292
CHAPTER XXV
THE LAND OF REFUGE
The flight from Rukumoana--Retreat to the Waitara--The Kawau _pa_
--Life in the Ngatimaru country--Rupé and his white man--A Maori
Donnybrook fair--A tale of a _taniwha_ pp. 293-305
CHAPTER XXVI
BUSH LIFE ON THE PATEA
The return to Rukumoana--The forest-village--Bird-snaring and
bird-spearing--Bent the canoe-builder--His third wife pp. 306-310
CHAPTER XXVII
HIROKI: THE STORY OF A FUGITIVE
Hiroki, the slayer of McLean--Strange faces at Rukumoana--A forest
chase--A meeting and a warning--Hiroki's wild bush life and his
end pp. 311-320
CHAPTER XXVIII
OUT OF EXILE
Canoeing on the Patea--The voyage to Hukatéré--The white man's world
again--Bent the medicine-man--_Makutu_, or the Black Art--Bent's
later days--The end pp. 321-332
APPENDIX pp. 333-336
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
SKETCH MAP OF TARANAKI _Frontispiece_
PAGE
MOUNT EGMONT, TARANAKI 15
A TARANAKI FRONTIER FORT 17
PATARA, A HAUHAU PROPHET 47
A BRITISH COLUMN ON THE MARCH 69
THE SCOUT 85
THE AMBUSCADE 113
TUTANGÉ WAIONUI, A HAUHAU WARRIOR 151
MAJOR VON TEMPSKY 159
MAJOR VON TEMPSKY 173
MAJOR KEMP (KEPA TE RANGIHIWINUI) 211
THE FIGHT AT MOTUROA 218, 219
A HAUHAU SCOUT 235
A CONSTABULARY OFFICER IN BUSH-FIGHTING COSTUME 279
KIMBLE BENT, THE PAKEHA-MAORI 325
THE ADVENTURES OF
KIMBLE BENT
CHAPTER I
THE DESERTER
On the banks of the Tangahoé--The runaway soldier--A Maori
scout--Off to the rebel camp.
On the banks of one of the many swift rivers that roll down to the
Tasman Sea through the Taranaki Plains a young man in the blue undress
uniform of a private soldier sat smoking his pipe. He was dripping with
water, and a little pool had collected where he crouched in the fern,
a few feet from the bank of the stream. He had plainly just emerged
from the river. His clothes were torn, and he was capless. He was a man
of about the middle size, spare of build, with sharp dark eyes and a
bronzed complexion that told of past life under a tropic sun.
Less than an hour previously he had left his comrades' camp, the tented
lines of Her Majesty's 57th Regiment, on the ferny flats of Manawapou.
Left unofficially, and without his arms, strolling down towards the
Tangahoé River as if for a bathe. A "shut-eye" sentry was on duty that
morning; and the deserter's tent-mates, too, were sympathetically
blind to his departure. The Tangahoé was the border-line between the
country covered by the British rifles and the unconquerable bush of the
Maori rebels. Towards this rubicon he made his way through the thick,
high fern, which soon concealed him from view. He attempted to ford
the rapid, muddy river, but it was up to his waist, and almost swept
him off his feet. Struggling ashore again, he took to the fern and
travelled slowly and with great toil through it, keeping parallel with
the course of the Tangahoé, and heading down stream. He forced his way
through the thick fern "like a wild pig," to use his own simile. In
this way he travelled something over a mile down the river, and then
once more attempted to ford across, but it was too deep and swift. He
crawled back up the bank again, and quite exhausted, with scratched
hands and face and gaping half-buttonless clothes, he sat down to
recover his breath and strength. His heart was thumping fearfully with
his frantic exertions in the closely matted, entangling fern, and it
was some minutes before he could command his trembling fingers to fill
and light his pipe.
After the soldier had sat and smoked a while he rose, and making his
way to a slight elevation on the banks where he could see over the top
of the coarse _rarauhe_ fern, in some places ten feet high, he looked
around him. Directly across the river the bush began, the seemingly
impenetrable forest solemn and dark, pregnant with danger and mystery.
Turning in the other direction, and facing the north-west, he could
just discern in the distance the tops of a number of bell-tents--the
camp he had left behind him. And as he looked his last on the tents
of his comrades and his tyrants, he heard the sweet notes of a bugle
sounding a call. The midwinter air was very clear and still. It was the
midday mess call--"Come-to-the-cookhouse-door."
"No more cookhouse-door now, that's a moral," said the soldier aloud.
"Pork and potatoes for you, me boy--or else a crack on the head with a
tomahawk."
Beyond the tents, another tent-shaped object took the soldier's eye.
It was a lofty snowy mountain, glittering in the midday sun. It was
far away in the nor'-west, so far that its base was hidden by the
intervening bush, and only the white symmetrical upper part of the
vast cone, a wedge of white culminating in as perfect an apex as any
bell-tent, was visible to the eye from this part of the great plains.
It was the peak of Taranaki mountain, which the white man calls Mount
Egmont.
Satisfying himself that there was no one in sight and that he was
not followed, the soldier squatted down again and smoked his pipe
meditatively.
Suddenly he started up and listened intently. He heard something, and
any noise meant danger. The sound was the trotting of a horse.
Scrambling through the fern a little space back from the bank, he found
that a narrow track wound through the tangle of tall brown bracken.
Peering out from his shelter place he saw--first, the glitter of the
muzzle of a long rifle above the fern; then, next moment round a turn
in the path came a mounted man, a Maori. He was a tall, black-bearded
fellow, wearing a European shirt and trousers, but bare as to feet.
Each stirrup-iron was thrust between the big toe and the next one, as
was the universal Maori mode when riding bare-footed. In his right hand
he held an Enfield rifle, of the pattern used by the white troops in
those days; the butt rested on his thigh, cavalryman fashion. Round his
shoulders hung a leather cartouche-box; there was another buckled round
his waist, from which there hung also a revolver in its case. A Hauhau
scout, evidently, venturing rather daringly close to the British camp.
The white man hesitated only a moment. Then he boldly stepped out on
to the track, directly in front of the startled Maori, who pulled his
shaggy pony up sharp, and instantly presented his gun at the white man.
Seeing the next moment, however, that the white man was unarmed and
alone, the Maori brought his rifle-butt down on his leg again, and
stared with wonder at the forlorn-looking white soldier before him.
"Here, you _pakeha_!" he cried, in mixed English and Maori; "go back,
quick! _Haere atu, haere atu!_ Go 'way back to t'e soldiers. I shoot
you suppose you no go! _Hoki atu!_"
"Shoot away!" returned the white man. "I won't go back. I'm running
away from the soldiers. I want to go to the Maoris. Take me with you!"
"_You tangata kuwaré_!" the Maori said. "You _pakeha_ fool, go back!
T'e Maori kill you, my word! You look out."
"I don't care if they do," replied the soldier. "I tell you, I want to
live with the Hauhaus."
"_E pai ana!_" ("It is well"), said the scout. "All right, you come
along. But you look out for my tribe--they kill you."
"I'm not frightened of your tribe," said the soldier.
"What your name, _pakeha_?" was the next question.
"Kimble Bent," answered the _pakeha_.
The Maori attempted the pronunciation of the name, but the nearest he
could get to it was "Kimara Peneti."
"Too hard a name for t'e Maori," he said. "_Taihoa_; we give you more
better name--good Maori name. If"--he qualified it--"my tribe don't
kill you."
Then the swarthy warrior dismounted and ordered the _pakeha_ to get
into the saddle; he saw that his prisoner was dead-tired. He turned
the horse's head back towards the Maori country, and the strangely-met
pair struck down along the banks of the Tangahoé, the Maori striding in
front.
For about three miles the track wound down through the fern and flax,
parallel with the course of the river. Then the travellers came to a
ford. They crossed safely, and clambering up the steep muddy bank on
the other side, they marched on towards the blue hills of the rebel
country.