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.
One biting cold evening in July, 1868, the whole population of the
"Bird's-Beak" _pa_ gathered on the _marae_ to watch the departure of
a fighting-column launched by Titokowaru against the whites. It was a
night fitter for the snug _wharé_ than for the war-path, but the omens
were propitious for the expedition, and the war-god's sacred breeze,
the _whakarua_, breathed of Uenuku, blew across the forest.
The sixty warriors of the _Tekau-ma-rua_ took the trail with the lilt
of the dance-girls' _poi_-chant in their ears, and the war-choruses
yelled by their comrades in the village gritted their battle-spirit.
They were fittingly and thickly _tapu_'d for the night's work,
_karakia_'d over with many hardening and bullet-averting _karakias_,
and thoroughly Hauhau-bedevilled for the fight. Some of the warriors,
belted and painted, carried long Enfield muzzle-loaders, some
double-barrelled guns, some stolen or captured carbines, and a variety
of other firearms. Each rifleman's equipment included a short tomahawk
thrust through his flax girdle; a few--the storming-party--were
armed with long-handled tomahawks, murderously effective weapons in
a hand-to-hand combat. Though a winter's night, most of them were
scantily clad, as befitted a war-party. Some wore shirts and other
part-European dress; some only flax mats and waist-shawls.
Up and down the village square, as the Hauhau captain, Hauwhenua, led
his band out into the forest, strode Titokowaru, in a blaze of fanatic
exaltation, crying his commands to the warriors. Waving his plumed
_taiaha_, he shouted, "Kill them! Eat them! Let them not escape you!"
And as they disappeared in the darkness he returned to his place in
the great council-house, where on his sacred mat he spent the night in
commune with his ancestral spirits and in reciting incantations for the
success of his men-at-arms.
In single file the Hauhau soldiers struck into the black woods. As
they entered the deeper thicknesses of the forest, where not a star
could be seen for the density and unbroken continuity of the roof of
foliage above them, they chanted this brief _karakia_, a charm invoking
supernatural aid to clear their forest-path of obstructions and smooth
their way:
"Wahi taratara e i
Me tuku ki te Ariki
Kia taoro atu e--i,
Nga puke puke i noa."
Away through the bush they tramped, lightening the march with Hauhau
chants, until their objective was neared--the little redoubt of
Turuturu-Mokai.
One word of warning Titokowaru had given the _Tekau-ma-rua_ when he
chose them for this expedition. Kimble Bent, squatting with his fellows
in the big house, had watched the divination-by-_taiaha_ and the
demon-like red tongue of the high priest's sacred weapon turning now to
one silent warrior, now to another. He heard Titokowaru's injunction to
the chosen of the war-god:
"_Kaua e haere ki te kuwaha o te pa; kei reira te raiana e tu ana! Ka
pokanoa koutou, ka ngaua te raiana ia koutou!_" ("Do not charge at the
gate way of the fort; there stands the lion! Should you disregard this
command, the lion will devour you!")
This caution was designed to restrain the more impetuous of the young
warriors, for Titokowaru was a crafty general, and did not believe in
wasting good fighting-men. He had learned by dear experience at Sentry
Hill in 1864 that to dash straight and blindly at the foe, though
valiant enough, was not always sound tactics.
The leader of the _taua_, old Hauwhenua, must have been nearly seventy,
but he was as active and agile and keen-witted as any young man of his
fighting band. He was a product of the ferocious old cannibal times
when every tribe's hand was against its neighbour's, and when year
after year Waikato armies besieged the stockaded holds of Taranaki. In
person he was not the ideal of a Maori warrior, for he was short of
stature, a stoutly built man, with short grey beard and no tattoo-marks
on his face. But he had fought against Maoris and against whites for
many years of his life, and no war-captain surpassed him in the many
stratagems of bush-warfare, and particularly in the artful laying of
ambuscades.
Marching with the savages of the _Tekau-ma-rua_ was the white
man--Charles Kane, or King, called by the Maoris "Kingi," the deserter
from the 18th Royal Irish. He was armed with a gun, intending to assist
his Hauhau friends in their attack on his fellow-whites. Kimble Bent,
it was reported afterwards in the _pakeha_ camps, also accompanied the
warriors, but he denies this, asserting that he did not stir from the
_pa_ all night; this is confirmed by the Maoris. "Kingi," he says, was
a fiercely vindictive man, and swore to have a shot at the white men
from whom he had cut himself off for ever.
Emerging from the forest, the warriors stole quietly down over the
fern-slopes, and crossing the Tawhiti creek, which wound down through
a valley close to the present town of Hawera, they worked round to
the front of the little parapeted fort that stood in a singularly
unstrategic position on a gently rising hillside, close to the
celebrated ancient _pa_, Turuturu-Mokai. Hauwhenua passed round the
word to hide in the fern and remain in cover there as close up to the
redoubt as possible, until he yelled the "_Kokiri!_" cry--the signal
for the charge.
The Turuturu-Mokai redoubt was but a tiny work, so small that the
officer in charge, Captain Ross, had to live in a _raupo_ hut built
outside the walls. The entrenchment, consisting of earth-parapet
and a surrounding trench, was being strengthened by its garrison of
twenty-five Armed Constabulary, and the work was not quite finished
when the Maori attack was delivered.
The night dragged on too slowly for the impatient and shivering
warriors. Some wished to rush the white men's _pa_ at once, but
Hauwhenua and his sub-chiefs forbade it till there was a little more
light. Several of the younger men began to crawl up through the fern
towards the wall of the little fort. The form of a solitary sentry was
seen, pacing up and down outside the walls. He could easily have been
shot, but the Hauhaus waited.
The sentry was relieved at five o'clock in the morning. The new
sentinel was not left in peace very long. Five minutes after he went
on duty, while he was walking smartly up and down to keep warm, he
heard a suspicious rustle in the fern. He stopped and peered into the
dimness. Yes, he couldn't be wrong; those dark forms crawling towards
him through the fern were Maoris! He raised his carbine and fired, then
turned and raced for the redoubt, shouting out, "Stand to your arms,
boys!"
The darkness--it was not yet dawn--was instantly lit up by the blaze
of a return volley, and, with a fearful yell, the host of half-naked
Maoris leaped from the fern and rushed for the redoubt.
The white soldiers, roused by the firing, rushed from their tents and
manned the parapets and angles of the work, so furiously assailed by
the swarming forest-men.
Captain Ross had leaped from his sleeping-place at the first alarm.
He ran out from his _wharé_, armed with his sword and revolver, and
clothed only in his shirt. He just managed to cross the ditch by the
narrow plank-bridge ahead of the enemy, who missed the plank in the
darkness.
The captain quickly called for volunteers to defend the gate.
"I'll make one, sir!" cried Michael Gill, an old Imperial soldier.
"All right, Gill," said the captain; it was pitch dark, but he knew
Gill's voice. "Any more?"
Yes; they rushed for the gate--Henry McLean, George Tuffin, Swords,
Gaynor, and Gill. The others manned the two flanking angles.
Private George Tuffin, one of the garrison--who is still alive, in
Wanganui--was up with the others at the first alarm. He fired his
revolver into the mass of Maoris outside the gateway; then, dropping
the revolver, he got to work with his carbine. He had fired one shot
out of his carbine, and stooped under the shelter of the parapet to
slip in another cartridge. Just as he was rising to fire again he
was struck in the head by a Maori bullet, and fell to the ground
unconscious. He could not have been in that condition very long, for
when he came to, Captain Ross was still alive and fighting to keep the
Maoris out of the gateway.
"Hello, old man!" cried the captain; "are you hit?"
Young Tuffin lay there, unable to reply.
"Where's your rifle?" asked the captain; he was reloading his revolver
while he spoke.
Tuffin pointed to where his gun was lying on the muddy ground beside
him.
"Come on, boys!" yelled the captain; "they're coming in at the gate!"
Those were the last words Tuffin heard his commanding officer utter. A
few moments later, in that fearful confusion of attack and defence in
the darkness, the gallant Ross was struck down, defending the gateway
to the end with his sword.
A Hauhau charged right into the redoubt, and killed the captain with
his long-handled tomahawk. Making a clean cut in his breast, he tore
out the heart, a trophy for the terrible ceremony of the _mawé_
offering. Then he darted back as quickly as he had come, yelling a
frightful cry of triumph. And another heart was torn from a white man's
body even before it had ceased to beat. This was the corpse of Lennon,
the keeper of the store and canteen. He had been killed alongside his
little hut, just outside the redoubt, when the fight began. He was
tomahawked almost to pieces and his heart cut out.
And in the very midst of that battle in the dark the pagan ceremony of
the _whangai-hau_ was performed, the oblation to the god of war. The
priest of the war-party offered up one of the _pakeha_ hearts--some
Maoris say it was Captain Ross's, although Lennon's would really be the
heart of the _mata-ika_, the "first-fish" slain, which was usually the
one offered to the gods. The savage _tohunga_ lit a match (he carried
_pakeha_ matches for this dreadful purpose), and held the bleeding
heart over the flame. Immediately it began to sizzle and smoke, he
cried in an exultant voice, "_Kei au a Tu!_" ("I have _Tu_!"), meaning
that Tu, the supreme god of war, was with him, or on his side. Then
he threw down the burnt sacrifice, and, clutching his long-handled
tomahawk, rushed into the fight again. The captain's heart was
discovered after the fight was over lying on the blood-stained ground
outside the trench.
For two hours it was desperate work. The Hauhaus charged up to the
parapets, and many of them jumped into the ditch, whence they attempted
to swarm over the walls, but were beaten off again and again by the
little garrison. The endeavour to rush in force through the gateway
of the redoubt did not succeed. The impulsive young men, however,
disregarded Titokowaru's warning about the "lion" in the path, and it
was in this tomahawk charge at the fort gate that most of those who
were killed fell.
After the captain's death Gill and McLean took up their posts in one
of the angles, and fought there till daylight. Their Terry carbines
gave them a good deal of trouble. After a few rounds had been fired the
breech-blocks jammed, and were difficult to open and close.
Unfortunately, all hands did not show equal bravery. At least
four--Michael Gill says five--men bolted for the redoubt, some of them
jumping from the parapet, soon after the fight began. Gill called to
them to stop and help to protect the wounded. But they fled and left
their comrades.
One of the pluckiest men in the redoubt was Cosslett Johnston (now of
Hawera), a military settler. Mr. Johnston's intrepid example put fresh
courage into his despairing comrades on that terrible morning. Michael
Gill was an old Imperial soldier; he had served in the 57th Regiment,
the old "Die-Hards"--Kimble Bent's regiment--and his coolness did a lot
to steady his fellow-soldiers. Gill was recommended for the Victoria
Cross for his bravery, but did not get it. He, like his comrades,
certainly deserved that decoration or the New Zealand Cross, but did
not get either.
When the Captain fell, Tuffin crawled, more than half-dazed with his
wound, to one of the angles. There he received four more bullet wounds.
In the angle there were five other men; of these two were killed.
Failing in their first attempt to take the redoubt by assault, some
of the Hauhaus took post on the rising ground a little distance
off, where they could fire into the work, and one after another the
defenders dropped, shot dead or badly wounded. The ditch was full of
Maoris. Only the narrow parapet separated them from the whites, and
they yelled at the defenders and shouted all the English "swear-words"
in their vocabulary. The _pakehas_ "talked back" at them, says one of
the few survivors of the heroic garrison, and cried "Look out! The
cavalry are coming!" but the Hauhaus only laughed and said, "Gammon,
_pakeha_--gammon!" Then, finding that any Maori who showed his head
above the parapets was quickly shot down, they started to dig away
at the wall with their tomahawks, and succeeded in undermining the
parapet in several places. By this time half the garrison had been shot
down. One of the first killed was Corporal Blake, who fell in one of
the angles. Private Shields, the captain's orderly, was killed in one
of the angles; Private George Holden was shot dead behind the parapet;
Gaynor was killed at the gate. Then Sergeant McFadden fell while
bravely helping to hold an angle against the swarming enemy.
Private Alexander Beamish, who fell mortally wounded while helping to
defend an angle of the fort, told his brother, John Beamish (now a
resident of Patea), who was fighting by his side, just before he died,
that he believed it was a white man who shot him. Bent says that the
deserter Kane, while taking part in the attack, was wounded in the
right cheek by a _pakeha_ bullet, and then retired from the fight. John
Beamish was struck by an Enfield bullet and severely wounded about
the time his brother was shot, but though then unable to shoulder his
carbine, he opened packets of ammunition and passed cartridges to Gill,
the only unwounded man in his angle of the redoubt, until the end of
the combat.
Here is John Beamish's story of the fight, as he told it to me some
years back:
"The Maoris surrounded the redoubt and tried again and again to swarm
over the wall, and they kept it up till broad daylight. We could not
see much at first but the flashing of guns all around us. Presently
some of the Maoris set fire to the _wharés_ outside the redoubt. They
were armed with muzzle-loading Enfields and shot-guns, and we could now
and then see the ramrods going up and down as they rammed the charges
home. Then sometimes we would see the flash of a tomahawk and catch a
glimpse of a black head above the parapets. One of our troubles was
that there were no loopholes in the parapets, otherwise we could have
shot many of the Maoris in the ditch. We were exposed to the fire of
the enemy on the rising ground close by, and this was how so many of
the men in our angle were hit.
"Then they started to dig and cut away at the parapets with their
tomahawks. We could plainly hear them at this work, and I heard one
Maori ask another for a match. I suppose he wanted to try and fire our
buildings inside the walls. One after another our men dropped, shot
dead or badly wounded. I had very little hope of ever getting out of
the place alive. But we well knew what our fate would be if the Maoris
once got over the parapets, so we just put our hearts into it and kept
blazing away as fast as we could load. We had breech-loading carbines
which had to be capped. One incident I remember was a black head just
appearing over the parapet in the grey light, then came a body with a
bare arm gripping a long-handled tomahawk. Quietly the Hauhau raised
himself up, and was just in the act of aiming a blow at one of our men
who did not see him when we fired and brought him down.
"My younger brother was fighting not far from me. He fell mortally
wounded, and before he died he told us he believed it was a white
man who shot him. I was wounded about the same time. An Enfield
bullet struck me in the left shoulder. It took me with a tremendous
shock, just as I was stooping down across a dead man to get some dry
ammunition. The bullet slanted down past my shoulder-blade and came
out at the back. This incapacitated me from firing, or, at any rate,
from taking aim, so I had to content myself with passing cartridges
to Michael Gill--one of the men in my angle--who kept steadily firing
away, and with levelling my unloaded carbine as well as I could with
my right hand whenever I saw a head bob up above the parapet. When
the fight ended Gill was the only unwounded man in our angle of the
redoubt; out of the six who manned it when the alarm was given, three
were shot dead and two were wounded. One man, George Tuffin, was
wounded in five places.
"Daylight came, and those of us who could shoulder a carbine were
still firing away and wondering whether help would ever reach us. We
knew they must have heard the firing and seen the flashes of the guns
at Waihi redoubt, only three miles away. Suddenly the Maoris ceased
firing and retired into the bush. Their sentries had given them warning
that troops were coming. As they dropped back we rushed out of the
redoubt and gave them the last shot, and then Von Tempsky and his
A.C.'s arrived at the double, and the fight was over. My wound kept me
in the hospital for five months. The only wonder is that any of us ever
came out of that redoubt alive."
The sun had risen before the fight was over. A few minutes more and the
Hauhaus would have succeeded in undermining the parapets sufficiently
to force an entrance, and the defenders would have fallen to the last
man, and the whole of their arms and the post-supplies have been
carried off to Titokowaru's fort in the forest.
The little redoubt was a frightful sight. Dead and wounded men were
lying all over the place in pools of blood; two of them were shockingly
mutilated with tomahawks. Out of the twenty-one defenders of the
redoubt, ten were killed and five were wounded; only six came through
the fight without a wound.
Hauwhenua withdrew his disappointed _Tekau-ma-rua_, carrying those
of their wounded who were unable to walk, and marched back to
Te Ngutu-o-te-Manu. The "lion" of Titoko's speech, though sore
wounded, had in truth closed his mouth on some of their most daring
braves. Takitaki, a bold, athletic young Hauhau, who was in the
_Tekau-ma-rua_, was one of those who attacked Captain Ross at the
gateway. The Captain shattered Takitaki's left arm with a bullet from
his revolver before he fell.[6]