CHAPTER I

_CAMP FIRE YARNS OF THE LOST LEGION_

[Illustration]

[Illustration: T. F. KYNNERSLEY, ESQ., OF LEIGHTON, SALOP, D.L., J.P.,

AND LATE CAPTAIN AND S.O. LONSDALE'S HORSE.]

CAMP FIRE YARNS

OF THE LOST LEGION

BY

Colonel G. HAMILTON-BROWNE

"MAORI BROWNE"

Late Commandant in Colonial Forces

Author of

"With the Lost Legion in New Zealand"

"A Lost Legionary in South Africa"

LONDON

T. WERNER LAURIE LTD.

CLIFFORD'S INN

THIS SKEIN OF YARNS

IS DEDICATED TO

MY OLD FRIEND AND COMRADE IN ARMS

DURING 1877-78-79

THOMAS F. KYNNERSLEY OF LEIGHTON, CO. SALOP D.L., J.P. AND

LATE CAPT. AND STAFF OFFICER IN LONSDALE'S HORSE

WHOSE FONDNESS FOR A GOOD STORY IS AS KEEN NOW AS IT WAS IN

THE DAYS OF YORE WHEN IN BIVOUAC OR CAMP WE USED TO SPIN THEM

PREFACE

In introducing these yarns let me state that now I am laid up on the

shelf my thoughts go back to those days and nights of the veld and

bush, and I frequently feel I would give all the rest of the map if I

could again find myself on the open lands of the frontier with a good

horse between my knees and a few score of the old boys behind me. Now

I hold pen instead of carbine and revolver, but why should memories of

the old days pass away? Let me fancy I sit by the camp fire again,

telling yarns as we used to under the dark blue skies and blazing

stars of South Africa.

Let me spin you some yarns of the Lost Legion.

CONTENTS

PART I

CHAPTER PAGE

I. THE MAORI AS I KNEW HIM 1

II. HOW MATENE FAILED TO CONVERT THE LOWER WANGANUI 53

III. HOW A SCOUT WON THE NEW ZEALAND CROSS 73

IV. A HAU HAU MARTYR 84

V. A BRUSH WITH BUSHRANGERS 92

VI. THE SCOUT THAT FAILED 106

VII. SOME MIRACULOUS ESCAPES I HAVE KNOWN 125

VIII. A TOUGH SWIM IN BAD COMPANY 137

IX. HELD UP BY A BUSHRANGER 146

X. ON THE SCOUT IN NEW ZEALAND 150

XI. THE COLONEL'S FIERY TOT 161

XII. LOST IN THE NEW ZEALAND BUSH 164

XIII. THE TROOPER'S REGARD FOR HIS TRUST AND HORSE 177

XIV. A GRUESOME FLUTE 182

XV. THE DOCTOR AND THE SENTRY 187

XVI. HOW KIWI SAVED HIS CLOTHES AND THE GOVERNOR LOST HIS DINNER 192

XVII. A SOUTH SEA BUBBLE 202

PART II

I. THE DÉBUT OF THE LOST LEGION IN NATAL 215

II. A QUEER CARD 232

III. A CONVERSION THAT FAILED 257

IV. JACK ASHORE IN 1871 265

V. THE CONVERSION OF MIKE O'LEARY 275

VI. BUSHED 283

VII. THE NON-COM.'S REVENGE 293

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

T. F. KYNNERSLEY OF LEIGHTON SALOP, CAPT. AND

S.O. OF L.H., 1879 _Frontispiece_

REWI FIGHTING CHIEF OF THE WAIKATOS _to face page_ 20

GATEWAY TO MAORI KIANGA " 56

A MAORI GIRL " 80

YARN SPINNING IN SOUTH AFRICA " 214

TE TARATA, THE WHITE TERRACE, ROTOMAHANA " 192

THE CONVERSION OF MIKE O'LEARY " 280

THE NEGLECTED SOLDIER

Fame is but a fleeting shadow,

Glory but an empty name;

Spite of all that I have gone through,

'Tis, I find, a losing game:

Without interest, without money,

Nothing can a soldier gain;

Though he be the sole survivor

Of a host of comrades slain:

What avail these glitt'ring honours,

Which a queen laid on my breast;

Though I've sought them from my childhood,

Would I'd fallen with the rest:

Then my heart had not been broken

Life had fled without a sigh;

Hunger presses--I am fainting--

Ought a soldier thus to die?

THE OLD SHEKARRY.

CAMP-FIRE YARNS OF THE LOST LEGION

PART I

CHAPTER I

THE MAORI AS I KNEW HIM

Camped in a London flat, sick of the turmoil, rows and worries of the

big city, with its pushing, hurrying and ill-mannered crowds, can it

be wondered at that I let my thoughts often wander far away to the

days of my early manhood, when I passed over ten years in the dense

and silent, though beautiful, bush of New Zealand, or rode across the

wild, open and breezy plains of its inland plateaus? During this time

I had ample opportunities for observing and studying the natives, both

in war and peace: in the former especially, as I not only fought

against them, but I also fought side by side with the brothers,

cousins and quondam friends of the very men we were engaged against.

Queer, very queer, people they were, and, to describe them in a few

words, I should pronounce them to be bundles of contradictions, whose

faults made them hateful, but whose many good qualities rendered them

one of the most charming race of people it has ever been my lot to

meet. They have been described by numerous writers far more capable

than myself, and whose pens are far more graphic than my own, but yet

perhaps a few traits in their many-sided characters, that I have

experienced myself, may interest you.

To begin with, let me speak of their courage, which was displayed in

such a marked degree during the long wars that lasted from 1860 to

1871, for the whole of which period the Maoris were hopelessly

outnumbered and, as far as armament went, were equally outclassed. Yet

these brave fellows fought on and on, and even when the end came, and

the shattered remnants of the so-called rebels took refuge in the King

Country, the New Zealand Government, fearing to risk further war with

the powerful Waikato tribes, resorted to what was called the

blanket-and-sugar policy, rather than follow Te Kooti or demand his

extradition from King Tawhiao, who at that time was just as

independent of English rule as France was.

The first fighting took place in 1860, and soon General Sir Duncan

Cameron had over 1000 Imperial troops under his command, as well as an

equal number of Colonial Militia and Irregulars, and also a powerful

Naval Brigade. He had also a strong force of Artillery, and was well

supplied with ammunition and stores of all kinds. Yet perhaps you will

scarcely credit me when I tell you that never at any single moment had

he more than 2000 natives in arms against him, and that he was never

opposed in any single action by even 1000 men.

It must be borne in mind that Sir Duncan's force was one of the most

powerful that England, up to that time, without the assistance of

allies, had ever put into the field; that the men who composed it

were all of them good, seasoned men, many of them being veterans of

the Crimea and Mutiny; that the Militia were highly trained, most of

them old soldiers, under the command of ex-Imperial officers; that the

Irregulars proved themselves to be second to none in the field, and

that the natives only possessed old muskets and fowling-pieces.

Now these numbers are staggering, but absolutely correct, as it is

also that the above force made but small headway against this handful

of savages; for although Sir Duncan forced his way into the Waikato

and held a chain of forts there, yet on the west coast, especially in

the districts of Taranaki and Wanganui, the settlers had to abandon

their homesteads, the women and children being sent for safety to the

South Island, and no man's life was safe beyond rifle range of the

forts. This was the state of New Zealand in 1866, after six years of

incessant war, and it can only be accounted for in the following

way:--

To commence, the General and his officers were hidebound with the old

traditions and maxims of the British army. They simply would not or

could not adapt themselves to the exigencies or tactics of irregular

warfare, nor could they be made to understand or believe that a

regiment that could march in line like a brick wall might easily be

worsted by a mob of savages in a New Zealand bush. Then again when

attacking pahs: the General considered that the correct way to do so

was, after a sharp bombardment, to rush the place with the bayonet.

Who could imagine for a moment that natives could hold their flimsy

stockades against men who had stormed the Redan and taken Delhi at the

point of the bayonet. Yet they did. Rangiriri was assaulted three

times, and on each occasion, notwithstanding the splendid devotion and

courage of our gallant Tommies, they were driven back with great loss.

Yet on the following day the 180 defenders marched out and laid down

their arms. Why? For three days they had been without one drop of

water. The General knew they had no water, then why did he risk the

lives of his splendid men by ordering futile assaults? Rangiriri took

place in November 1863, and one would have thought that the General

might have learned something, by its lesson, of the ways how best to

deal with a Maori pah; but he had neglected to do so, for in April,

the following year, he invested Orakau Pah, the defenders of which

exhibited gallantry seldom equalled and never surpassed in all the

annals of human warfare. Let me try and give you a brief account, as I

heard it some years afterwards from the mouth of one of its defenders:

"Listen, Te Parione, I will tell you how I first saw white men and

fought against them. It was at Orakau, in the land of the Waikato

tribes, and the fight happened in this manner:

"We of the Taupo tribes must pay a visit of ceremony to the chiefs

and people of the Waikatos, and at the same time the Uriwera

people wished to do the same. Our intention was to discuss many

things with the Waikatos, and to hold a big runanga (deliberation)

concerning the war. We journeyed there, although we knew much war

was going on, and we were most anxious to hear about and see

something of this war, so that we could judge for ourselves the

might and fighting customs of the white men. It was necessary for

us to do this, as at that time we knew but little of the white

man, or the war customs of the soldiers; and as we might have to

fight them later on, it was well for us to know their manners in

war. We travelled together, in two parties, as our love is not

great for the Uriwera, and reached the land of the Waikatos. These

could give us but a short tangi (reception ceremony), as the war

was hot in the land and the people much engaged in fighting; but

they gave us the Orakau Pah to dwell in, until such time as the

runanga could be held. Some chiefs of the Waikatos also stayed

with us in the pah, as hosts, and food was sent us daily, our

women, some forty in number, having to fetch water from a

distance, as there was none close to the pah.

"We heard daily of the advance of the white men, and we hoped to

see them, but did not go near them. It would not have been right

to do so: we were on a visit of ceremony, we had no anger against

them, and no cause to fight with them.

"One day we heard they were quite near, and our hearts were glad,

as perhaps we should get our desire and gaze on them. Next day

they came in sight, long columns of them, each man in his place.

And it was good to look at them. They were in great numbers. We

had never seen so many men at one time, and our hearts grew dark

within us at their might and order. Instead of passing on their

way as we expected, some of them turned to the right and some

moved to our left, until we were quite surrounded; and when they

were all placed they stood still and remained quiet. We were

surprised and in great wonder; nor could we understand the meaning

of this, until there came to us, as herald, the mouth

(interpreter) of their war chief, who told us, in the name of the

Great White Queen, to give up the pah, lay down our arms, and

render ourselves prisoners to the white men. Our head chief told

him that we could not do this, that we were not there to fight

against the white man, but that we were Taupo and Uriwera Maoris,

that we were on a visit of ceremony to the Waikatos, and that we

had no anger or cause against the soldiers. But the white chief

was mad, and sent the mouth again, saying we must give up the pah

to him or he would attack us.

"Our hearts were very dark with fear at the might and number of

the soldiers, and we discussed the situation. How could we give up

the pah? Had not the Waikatos lent us their pah to live in? And

were we not responsible for the honour of it? How could we give it

up? No, we must guard the pah with our lives, or our disgrace

would resound through the land and our shame live for ever. We had

no wish to fight the soldiers, but we must. Now the white man is

not ceremonious, for he gave us no time to dress for war, dance

the war-dance, nor even to utter our war-cries; for as soon as the

herald returned to his chief we saw a taua (war party) leave their

army and come straight for the outer fence, and we had to hasten,

so as to get into the trench and flanking angles.

"Very great is the courage of the soldiers, but great is their

folly; for this taua moved all in a body, close together, with a

young chief walking in front of them with his sword in his hand.

Soon they came near, and the young chief raised his sword and

shouted. The taua at once rushed at us, all of them shouting loud.

"Our hearts were dark with fear, for the anger of the white man

was very great. Rewi (a great fighting chief of the Waikatos') had

told us before to harden ourselves against the anger and shouts of

the white men, and had given us orders not to fire until he gave

the signal, then all to fire at one time. When the taua was within

six fathoms of us he gave the signal, and our fire darted out from

under the fence. Many of the white men fell, but the rest rushed

on, some of them trying to pull down the fence with their hands,

others firing through it with their guns, and some thrusting at us

with their bayonets. None of them seemed to fear death, though

they fell fast. We now fired our second barrels, reloading as fast

as we could, the women helping us, the men in the flanking angles

also firing, so that the smoke rose in clouds, and the sky

resounded with the shouting of the white men and our war-cries.

All fear had fallen away from us, and we now saw that the great

white chief was ceremonious, as he had only sent such a number of

men as we could cope with, all his other men remaining where they

had first stopped and not interfering with us. But it was

otherwise with the men with whom we were fighting, as they swore

at us and called us many bad names. And this was wrong, and filled

us with wonder, as we had done them no evil. But perhaps it is the

custom of the soldiers to do so.

"The fight had lasted but a short time. I had loaded my tupara

(double-barrelled gun) twice when a bugle called out, and the

soldiers, leaving us, went back. No, they did not run away, they

went slowly, looking back at us as if sorry to leave the fight and

taking their wounded men with them.

"We were greatly elated that we had saved the pah, and thought

that now the white men, having no cause of war against us, and

having done all that was necessary for both their own honour and

ours, would pass on their way, leaving us in peace.

"It was also near the time for our evening meal. The Waikato women

had not, according to their custom, brought us any provisions that

day, this having been delayed, we thought, on account of the

fight. But as that was now over, there could be no further cause

for their not coming, and if our women were to fetch water, it

would be ready for the food when it presently arrived.

"Our women left the pah for this purpose, and had been gone but a

short time when they returned and told us that the soldiers would

not allow them to pass, and that, on their insisting on doing so,

telling the interpreter that there was no water or food in the pah

and that they must get some, the mouth had told them that the big

chief had given orders that no food or water should be carried

into the pah and that if they passed through the soldiers they

would be prevented from coming back. So they had returned.

"This news filled us with wonder. Surely the white chief must be

mad. Enough fighting had been done for the honour of ourselves and

the soldiers. Even should he require more, how could he expect

our hearts to be strong and for us to be able to fight well if he

was to stop us obtaining food and water? It was folly. No man can

fight as he should do when he is weak and famished. He had very

many men. There had not been 300 Maoris, including women, in the

pah from the beginning, and some of us had been killed and

wounded; so we felt bitter towards the white chief, for our thirst

with fighting, shouting and the powder smoke, was great.

"Next morning we saw many more soldiers had arrived, bringing with

them several big guns, and the herald again approached us. This

time he told us that if we would not render up the pah the big

guns would fire on us. He also said we should have no food or

water. To this Rewi made answer: 'We will not render up the pah

and our honour. Enough, we will fight right on for ever.' And we

all shouted, 'Aké, aké, aké' (For ever, for ever, for ever).

"Then the white chief sent word: 'Save your women, let them come

out, they shall pass in safety and honour through the soldiers.'

"But the women refused, and Rewi answered: 'The women will fight

with us.'

"No sooner had the herald left us than the big guns began to

shoot, also some short, fat guns (cohorns) that threw iron balls

up into the air, so that they dropped inside the pah. And these

balls, being filled with powder, burst, inside the pah, with great

noise, and pieces of iron flew all around, while a great number of

soldiers, drawing near, began to fire at the pah, so that soon the

whole place was filled with dust and confusion, while the air was

torn with the shrieking of the pieces of iron and the whistling of

bullets. We were stricken with fear, and were glad to take refuge

in the underground houses of the Waikatos. And now we understood

their reason for building these, and our fear soon left us, when

we discovered that all this noise and trouble did us no harm.

After this had gone on some time, Rewi called to us that a taua

was getting ready to attack us, and ordered us to make ready for

it. And just then the fire from the big guns ceased, so as to

enable us to do so.

"This was quite right, for, if they had continued to fire, we

could not have left the underground houses, and then should not

have had time to get into the trenches to welcome the soldiers.

This made us think better of the white chief, who, we now saw, was

most ceremonious, as he again only sent as many men against us as

we could contend with on equal terms. And in all things, except

the matter of food and water, he proved himself to be a great and

wise war chief.

"The hapu (tribe) of soldiers sent against us this time was not

the same tribe as that which had attacked us previously, as they

wore another number on their head-dress. And this was as it should

be, for the chief had many different tribes in his army, and each

of these must be given a chance of honour. But he must have been

blind in his great folly, as if he wished to send all his tribes,

each in its turn, against us, at the same time refusing us food

and water, how could he expect us to keep our hearts strong, so as

to be able to resist in a befitting manner those whose turn came

later on? Then again our powder would fail. But this he had

provided against, as I will tell you shortly.

"Now this new taua acted just the same as the other had done. They

all moved in a body, and when the chief, who walked in front,

raised his weapon they all ran forward to try and tear down the

outer fence. Some of them had also brought with them large

tomahawks with which to cut it down, and Rewi called to us to use

our second shots on these men. Shouting loudly, the taua charged

at us, and when they reached within six fathoms of us our fire

rushed to meet them. Many of them fell, and those who reached the

fence failed to break in, though they did all that brave men could

do. The men with the tomahawks were soon shot down, and the fight

waxed very hot, although our war-cries were small, our thirst

being very great.

"Soon the bugle again called, and the white men went back slowly

and in great anger, some of them shaking their hands at us and

swearing loudly. But this we did not heed greatly, as we had

decided, among ourselves, that this was their custom and that they

did so with no intent to insult us, who had done them no wrong.

"Soon the big guns began to shoot again: this time at the

pekaranga (outer fence), so as to try and break it down. But the

fence was made of very many slender manuka poles, lashed firmly to

many cross-pieces, these being made fast to stout posts set firmly

in the ground, the lower part of the fence being just clear of the

ground, so that we could fire under it from the trench that was

just behind it. And behind this trench, in which we stood, were

the earthworks and heavy palisading of the pah.

"Now the outer fence being composed in this way, the shot from the

big guns only broke one or at the most two sticks of the fence,

and then buried themselves in the earth. This did but little harm

to us, as the holes made in the fence could be easily repaired and

were not nearly large enough for a soldier to pass through. The

short, fat guns also began to throw their balls into the pah. But

as long as we remained in the underground houses these did us no

harm. And it was by them the white chief showed his wisdom,

insomuch as he employed these balls to furnish us with powder, so

as to enable us to continue fighting, as we quickly discovered

that very many of these balls did not burst and from them we

extracted very many charges of powder. All these big guns fired

with great fury at us for some time, and then ceased, so as to

give us the opportunity of getting into the trenches to receive

another taua.

"This came in the same manner as the previous ones, and went back

as they did, not being able to break through the fence, and losing

many men.

"All the rest of that day the big guns continued to shoot at us

and the soldiers to fire into the pah, while we suffered much from

the want of food and water.

"That evening the mouth came to us again with word from the chief

to render the pah and ourselves to him.

"This we again refused to do. True, we had fought enough to save

the honour of the pah, and we should have left it before, had we

been able to do so; but we were, on all sides, surrounded by

soldiers, so could not escape. And if we rendered ourselves up as

prisoners, we, who were, with but few exceptions, all well-born

rangitera (gentlemen), would lose caste and become slaves.

Therefore we must fight for ever, even if we should have to die

from thirst. All that evening, and also at intervals during the

night, the big guns fired at us; and we had to take the time

between these to lick with our tongues the dew that fell from the

sky, so as to try and cool our parched throats, as by now our

thirst was very great.

"We could get no rest that night, as the white men frequently

fired these powder-filled balls into the pah. And we discovered

another reason for their use: one being to bring us powder, the

other to keep us awake, so as to be ready to resist an attack

should the chief desire one to be made. We had thought, at first,

they had been intended to kill and injure us, but as they had hurt

no one, we now understood their proper use. And we again wondered

at a chief who, being so wise in some matters, should be so

foolish as to keep us without food and water, as he still had many

more tribes to send to fight us.

"Next morning we saw that the white men had dug, during the night,

many rifle pits, and had begun to dig trenches, so as to be able

to approach us closely, without our being able to fire at them.

Escape we had deemed impossible before, but when the mouth came to

call us to render ourselves prisoners, we again cried, as loud as

our thirst allowed us: 'We fight on; aké, aké, aké.'

"That day the big guns fired frequently, and tauas attacked us

twice, always in the same manner as I have already told you; but

the last taua were very full of anger, and the bugle had to call

twice before they left us.

"The soldiers also kept on digging their trenches, and kept on

firing both from big guns and muskets.

"During the night we again tried to quench our thirst with the

dew, for we were getting weak and suffering greatly; and Rewi with

the rest of us chiefs consulted as to what we should do, for we

saw that by the next evening the soldiers would have dug their

trenches up to the outer fence and that the pah must fall. These

were the words of Rewi, and we all agreed with them:

"'O ye chiefs of Taupo and Uriwera, we have done all that brave

men can do. We have saved the honour of the pah, we must now look

to ourselves. The soldiers will enter the pah to-morrow, and we,

through the folly of the white chief, will be too weak from famine

and thirst to resist them. It is unbecoming that we, who are

gentlemen, should render ourselves prisoners; therefore only one

thing remains for us to do. We must charge the enemy and try to

escape by breaking through them. Perchance some of us will

succeed, the remainder must die as it befits warriors to die.'

"He then told us his plan. 'At midday the soldiers take their

meal, leaving only guards in the trenches. We will leave the pah

quietly in a body and rush those who are behind the bank--that is,

in front of the gate--and we will break through them there. They

will be eating. Perchance we may find them unprepared.' To this we

all agreed, each man determining to escape or die.

"Next morning we saw the trenches had approached us closely, and

so near were they that the soldiers were able to throw great

numbers of small balls filled with powder into our trench and the

pah itself. These balls burst on reaching us, and were thrown by

the hands of the soldiers themselves, not by the big guns, though

these also kept firing all the time, and we saw before night came

again the pah must fall.

"No taua attacked us this morning, as they wished the big guns to

break down our defences, as much as possible, before they again

assailed us. The sun reached its height and the firing somewhat

ceased. Rewi said the time was come, and we gathered together at

the gate of the pah, all the women being with us. Yes, it was

certainly the time for the soldiers' meal, and we, who had neither

eaten nor drunk for more than three days, tried to laugh when we

thought how we were shortly to disturb their eating it.

"Now, Parion, so that you may understand fully how these matters

took place, I must tell you that about 100 fathoms from the gate

of the pah was a bank, behind which were one of the tribes of

soldiers, who bore the number 40 on their head-coverings. This

bank had not been dug by them but was natural. It was not a high

bank, and it sloped towards us, but was steeper on the other side

and afforded the soldiers good protection from such of us as

possessed rifles. There had been no trenches dug on this side of

the pah, as the ground was hard and rocky, so there was nothing

between us and this bank. When we were all ready the gate of the

pah was removed, and we all rushed out, but without noise, and

ran as fast as we could for the bank; and we had crossed more than

half the distance before the soldiers seemed to notice us, as the

smoke and dust lay heavy on the pah and around the spots from

which the big guns fired. Then we were seen, and immediately many

bugles gave their calls. There was much shouting, and many

soldiers in the trenches jumped out and fired at us, many others

running to take their allotted places. There was much confusion.

We, however, ran steadily on, turning neither to our right nor our

left; nor did we return the fire. We soon came to the bank, and as

we ran up the slope we could see the soldiers rising from the

ground, on which they were eating, and who, when they saw us

running towards them, ran to the bank, fixing their bayonets on

their guns. Only a few had time to fire at us before we were on

them, and with our rush we jumped from the top of the bank right

over their heads. Some of them thrust bayonets at us, but as they

were in confusion we broke through them, or jumped over them,

without trouble, only very few of us falling here, and continued

to run towards the hills that were not far off. We should have

reached these, and most of us would have escaped, but all at once

we were cut off and attacked by other men, not soldiers, some of

them mounted (Colonial Irregulars). These men do not have the fine

appearance of soldiers, but know more about war, and are greatly

to be feared; for they did not wait to get each man into his right

place, but attacked us each man as he could, and being, moreover,

good fighting men, they killed many of us and delayed us so much

that the soldiers, having had time to regulate themselves, reached

the hill almost as soon as we did. They were in great numbers and

fired heavily on us as we struggled up the hills, all of us so

weak that we could scarcely surmount them. The big guns also fired

at us, but the horses could not follow us, and so 120 of us

escaped, Rewi and myself being among these, the remainder dying as

it became them. Very many of us, however, were wounded; and I must

not omit to tell you that thirty of the others who did not escape,

through being wounded severely, were taken by the soldiers. These

the soldiers treated with honour; nor did they make them slaves or

kill them, but conveyed them carefully to big tents, where their

wounds were made whole, and they were attended with much care. The

women, of whom some were taken, were also treated with honour. But

this was the custom of the soldiers once the fighting was

finished. They bore no anger towards the Maori prisoners, but

brought them much tobacco and waipero (rum) to show their good

will and appreciation for the trouble the Maoris had taken to

fight them five times. But on the medicine men learning of this

good will on the part of the soldiers, they were angry, and drove

them away; which I myself consider to be wrong. But perchance it

is the custom of the medicine men.

"And now, Te Parione, I desire your explanation on some matters;

for my heart is darkened with indecision as to the reasons the

great white chief had in carrying the war on against us in the

manner he did. You, who are a fighting man, belonging to the

tribes of soldiers, for I have been told your ancestors have all

been chiefs among these tribes, may be able to clear my mind on

these matters. I will place my ideas before you, then you can make

my mind light.

"First, why did the chief attack us? We were on a visit of

ceremony, not of war. Yet he, having a big army, and the Waikatos

at the time avoiding him, must find war for his men. In so much he

was right, and that I understand. Again, he showed great knowledge

of war, by only sending small bodies of men against us, he having

so many that we should have been crushed at once had he sent them

all at the same time. He also showed his great wisdom by sending

us powder in the iron balls, which also kept us awake at night, so

that we might be ready in case he attacked us. But as he did not

attack us during the night, it was folly, as a fighting man needs

rest. That he did not want to kill us we know, or he would not

have made whole the wounded men. Again, he could not have wanted

the pah itself, to dwell in, or he would not have tried to destroy

it with his big guns. And he knew we had no food or water, so must

all perish from thirst, in a few days, when he could gain the pah

without losing any men at all. He could not want our arms, as his

men do not use double-barrelled guns, and if he took them from us

we should have been unable to fight him, in case he saw fit to

come to Taupo from the Waikato, seeking war. No, he must have

wanted to let each of his tribes enjoy the honour of fighting us

in their proper turn. But then why, O Te Parione, did he forbid us

food and water? How could he expect us to render full justice to

his men when our great thirst even prevented us from crying our

war-cries, or fighting in such a manner as would confer honour on

his men whose turn came late. As it was, we could only manage to

hold out long enough to fight five of his tribes: and he had many.

"And now, Te Parione, the night grows old, and I have talked much.

Thinking of Orakau excites my thirst and the rum bottle is empty.

At daylight you go to shoot ducks, and it is needful to sleep.

Think over what I have asked you, and to-morrow night, when we

talk once again on war, you will be able to set my mind at rest on

these matters. War is a great art, and we are never too old to

acquire wisdom. Perchance that white chief had reasons that, if I

understood, would exalt my name should I practise them when we

fight again. Till then, my guest, rest in peace."

The above yarn is greatly epitomised, as my old host not only

described most of the blows struck during the fight, but also gave me

the roll-call of the Maoris, and most of their pedigrees. A Maori

considers it to be a waste of words not to describe minutely every

circumstance of an event, and by doing so differs from our ideas of

yarn-spinning, as we consider brevity to be the soul of wit. Nor did

the brave old warrior lay claim to any special merit that his band of

250 men, armed with old fowling-pieces and muskets, should have

resisted the attack of over 5000 British troops, should have repulsed

five desperate assaults, and for three days have braved the fire of a

powerful train of artillery, while at the same time undergoing the

torture of thirst.

Surely their heroic answer to the General's summons to surrender, "Ka

whawhai tonu, aké, aké, aké" (We fight right on, for ever, for ever,

for ever), is worthy of a place among the mottoes of the proudest

regiments the world has ever contained. As for their desperate and

somewhat successful attempt to escape: the fact that this handful of

famished men and women, in broad daylight, should charge and break

through the investing lines of their enemies and, but for the

intervention of the Colonial Irregulars, would have nearly all got

away, is a wonderful instance of unconquerable courage.

Perhaps I may be excused for recounting one or two more instances of

Maori chivalry.

During the negotiations that took place at the end of the Waikato war,

the General asked Wirimu Thomihana, through his interpreter, how it

was that the Maoris had not attempted to cut off his convoys at a

place called the Hog's Back?--the said place having such natural

difficulties as to render its passage almost impossible, had it been

obstructed by a hostile force. Thomihana's reply was: "What a foolish

question for a great war chief to ask. If we had prevented you from

obtaining food, how could you have continued to fight?"

[Illustration: REWI.]

On another occasion two companies of soldiers, while on the line of

march, piled their arms, sat down to rest and eat their dinners. Not

far away a body of Maoris were lying _perdus_. These crept up, through

the long fern, to the unsuspecting Tommies. Then, jumping to their

feet, rushed through them, seizing _en route_ all the rifles, belts

and pouches, they disappeared with them again into the fern. The Maori

chief presently informed the discomfited and helpless troops that he

would not allow his men to injure them, as he considered that both

themselves and their officers were far too ignorant of war to be

treated as warriors, and that they might therefore return in peace to

their camp, where he advised them to learn how to take care of

themselves before they again came out to fight.

The 65th Regiment had been stationed very many years in New Zealand,

it being supposed that their existence had been forgotten by the War

Office, who had most probably lost their postal address. Some of the

officers and very many of the men had married Maori women, so that the

regiment was on very friendly terms with the natives. War broke out,

and, naturally, the white man and Maori were on opposite sides and

fought bravely against one another. This did not, however, affect

their mutual esteem, for when at sunset the firing ceased numbers of

Maoris used to leave their rifle pits and stroll over to their

opponents' shelter trenches to exchange compliments, while the Maori

women brought over plentiful supplies of pork and potatoes with which

to regale their husbands, who, during the day, had been trying their

best to pot their fathers and brothers. These latter, with plenty of

quiet chaff, would quietly discuss the prominent events of the past

day's fighting, and the possible occurrences of the coming one, with

no more animus than teams of cricketers discuss together, at dinner,

the events of that day's play. At guard-mounting these friendly

enemies would part, and at daylight next morning each would do his

level best to put out of action his relative by marriage. This

sporting relationship was kept up for some time, until, reinforcements

pouring into the country, another regiment was sent to strengthen the

Haki-Hakis (the 65th), when the Maoris, thinking that the new-comers

might be enemies to the 65th, promptly left their rifle pits and,

coming over to their opponents, proffered their assistance to drive

away the supposed undesirable new-comers, and then continue their own

fight.

I have frequently talked to Maori warriors of their old-time wars,

tribe against tribe, when they have related accounts of the awful

raids of Hongi, Heki, Rauparaha and others. And these stories not only

teem with incidents of splendid courage, but are also blackened by the

recital of as many acts of brutality, treachery and cold-blooded

slaughter sufficient to satisfy Moloch himself: and relate to men who

would on one occasion perform feats of heroic chivalry worthy to stand

beside those of Bayard or Sir Walter Manny, while on the next day they

would commit acts that would have been considered bad form in Hades

even by Tilly and Cromwell. Chivalry was to disappear entirely when

the natives adopted the extraordinary and debased form of

nonconformist Christianity called the Pai Marire or Hau Hau faith: at

which time, retaining only their courage, they relinquished every

other good quality they may ever have possessed.

During the bitter and savage fighting of the later sixties, splendid

actions were done by these men while attempting to carry off, from the

field of battle, their wounded or dead comrades; and their determined

resistance, offered up to the last, threw a halo of glory round them

that even their cold-blooded murders and torturing atrocities could

scarcely obliterate.

Well I think I have said enough about their courage; let me turn to

the next greatest virtue possessed by man--viz. hospitality.

The hospitality of the Maori was unbounded. The best of everything he

had was readily placed at the disposal of his guest, and even should

he be so circumstanced as to have only a few potatoes between himself

and starvation, these would be cheerfully surrendered for his

visitor's consumption; nor was any payment expected, and if offered

would have been indignantly refused; notwithstanding the fact that the

recipient of the bounty might be a perfect stranger.

In those good old days, when the inmates of a pah or kainga saw a

white man, of any rank or position, approaching the place, all the

women, girls and children would seize mats, or anything else that came

handy, and, waving these, cry as loud as they could the greetings of

welcome: "Hacre mai! Hacre mai!" (Come to us! Come to us!). And these

cries would continue, and be joined in by all the inhabitants, until

the stranger had entered the village. On doing so, the visitor,

provided he were acquainted with strict Maori etiquette, would pay no

attention to anyone, but, handing his horse over to the nearest boy,

pass through the screaming, gesticulating crowd, and seat himself in

front of the guest hut, usually the best whare in the village. Here he

would be faced by all the principal men of the place, who would squat

down, in a semicircle, in front of him, the women, boys, girls and men

of low degree standing in rear of them, when with one accord the whole

multitude would lift up their voices and weep--and when I say weep it

was weeping, real weeping, and no make-believe about it. This

weeping, known as a tangi, was to me always a matter of wonder, as I

could never understand how a Maori should be able to turn on the

water-tap of his emotions at any moment he might desire to do so. I

have frequently seen scores of grand old kai tangatas (man-eaters)

squat down and, at will, cry and sob, with big tears hopping down

their tattooed cheeks, as bitterly as some tender-hearted little girls

would do if their favourite cat had just murdered their pet canary;

and these grim old warriors, in less than a minute, would be in more

urgent need of a big bandana handkerchief than a small boy with a bad

attack of influenza. Old men and women would crawl out of their huts,

stragglers would hurry up to join the throng, until every man, woman

and child belonging to the tribe would be rocking and wailing as if

their very heart-strings had been wrung with woe by the most personal

disaster.

After these lamentations had lasted a few minutes, one of the

principal chiefs would rise to his feet and make a short oration,

somewhat in this fashion: "You have come to us, O stranger, welcome!

welcome! welcome!" Then, turning to his people, he would say: "What is

the use of this crying? Dry your tears. Our friend is with us, make

him welcome. He is hungry, prepare food for him. He is fatigued, let

him rest. Bring him water, let him drink. Our friend is with us, cease

this foolish weeping. Our hearts grow light at seeing him." He would

then advance to the visitor and offer his hand, in the case of a white

man; but if the said stranger should be a native, of rank or family,

he would squat down in front of him and rub noses. Then, placing their

hands each on the other's shoulders, they would dissolve once more

into tears, mussle their noses together, and for a minute or two

mingle their weepings: this process having to be gone through by the

stranger with every man in the village, whose rank entitled him to

approach the guest.

The salutations having been finished, the stranger was left in peace,

everyone retiring, with the exception of a chief, or some particular

friend, who would remain to see to his comfort. And here at once the

innate good-breeding of the Maori came to the front: insomuch as, no

matter how anxious the natives were to hear the news, or the purport

of the visit, the guest was never pestered with questions, not even as

from whence he came, or whither he was going, and it remained entirely

to his own discretion as to whether he gave them any information or

not. In the meantime, girls brought him water to drink and wash with,

others had swept out the whare, brought in fresh fern and laid down

new mats for his use. Presently the sound of singing would be heard,

and a group of girls, carrying small open trays made from the broad,

glazed leaves of the flax plant, would, with a dancing step and a

little song, approach him and place them in front of him. These trays

contained food, such as pork, eels, enunga (fresh-water whitebait),

kora (the delicious fresh-water crayfish), potatoes, pigeons, and

sweet potatoes, or any of them the village contained. Anyhow, the

guest might be quite sure it was the very best his hosts had to offer.

On their arrival the man who had been looking after him would take a

morsel of food from one dish and eat it; then, rising to his feet, he

would retire, at the same time wishing his guest a good appetite.

Everyone else would depart with him, with the exception of one or,

perhaps, two girls, who would remain on their knees beside him, to

wait on him and tempt him to eat.

The evening meal being over, the chiefs would gather round their

guest, and, if he should happen to be a man of any importance, long

and deep would be the conversation: the subjects ranging from the

health and doings of the Great White Queen and her governor, to the

most trivial topics of the day. Each man in his turn would state his

ideas and reasons, and was listened to with attention; while the

guest's words were carefully weighed, and even, if his hearers

disagreed with him, the arguments adduced to refute his statements

were always expressed in a manner so polite, and in words so carefully

chosen, that it was impossible for him to feel personally hurt in

regard to his _amour propre_. Of course if the visit had been

premeditated the stranger would have come amply supplied with tobacco,

which would be passed round, and accepted with a _bien aise_ that

quite disguised, or rather hid, their intense longing for it, and

would be enjoyed with many a hearty grunt of satisfaction and

approbation. Then the girls would haka (dance with songs) in the

moonlight, some of them having placed glow-worms and fireflies in

their hair. And the sight of flashing eyes, gleaming white teeth,

flowing locks and lovely, swaying figures was sufficient to have made

old Saint Anthony himself sit up; although the words of the songs

that accompanied the dances, and the gestures that in part composed

them, were of a nature to shock a far less austere saint, and would

perhaps have even extracted a blush from an habitué of the old-time

Jardin Mabille.

Late night would put an end to the festivities, and the stranger, all

his comforts well seen to, might retire to his fern bed in peace.

It was a point of honour among the Maoris to protect their guest, as

it was a point of honour, on the part of the guest, to stand by his

hosts. In the yarn I spun about Orakau, I pointed out how the Taupo

and Uriwera tribes refused to render up the pah lent to them to dwell

in by the Waikatos, and that sooner than do so they fought to the

bitter end. Again, in 1811, when Te Kooti, flying from us, took refuge

in the King Country, and demanded the protection of the Waikatos, this

was readily granted him; and the Waikato tribes, although they had no

personal esteem for him, much less love or even family ties, would

have gone to war with us rather than have surrendered him, had the New

Zealand Government demanded him from them.

A Maori tribe considered it most unfortunate should even an accident

befall a guest while dwelling in one of their villages; for if such an

occurrence should happen, they ran the risk of being chaffed and held

up to ridicule, by the surrounding tribes, for their inability to take

care of a visitor.

Much more so was this the case during war-time. Should a white officer

be detailed for duty to a native contingent, he would be looked after

and his safety guarded in ways almost ludicrous and by no means

congenial to himself.

This was done, because if that officer were killed or wounded, it

would reflect the deepest disgrace on the tribe with whom he served;

they would never hear the last of it, not only from their friends, but

also from their enemies. And these would continually rate them, and

charge them with the accusation that it was through their carelessness

or cowardice that the misfortune had happened to the man who had been

entrusted to them.

The Maori was very superstitious. He firmly believed in dreams,

visions, omens of all sorts and the gift of prophecy, while the number

of unlucky acts he might involuntarily commit during one day was quite

sufficient to account for a whole chapter of accidents on the morrow.

He regarded the tohungas (magicians) with great respect, so long as

their divinations and prophecies panned out; but there are plenty of

well-authenticated cases where a warrior has wreaked his vengeance on

a tohunga through whose false prognostications the tribe has got into

a mess. Nor are incidents lacking to show that prophets, who had

earned a reputation for themselves, would not rather commit suicide

than allow themselves to be proved wrong in their divinations.

Let me spin you a couple of yarns to illustrate what I have just

written.

It was in March 1865 that the Hau Hau apostle Kereopa, in the course

of a few hours, converted the swagger flock of red-hot Christians,

who, under the guidance of Bishop Williams, had earned a mighty

reputation for sanctity, to the new faith of Pai Marire. The good

bishop and his family, barely escaping with their lives from his own

sheep, departed to Napier, leaving the Hau Haus in possession of his

residence at Waerengahika, at which place they built a pah that was,

in November of the same year, attacked by the Colonial forces. The Hau

Haus were superior in numbers, but during the first few days the

Colonials gained some trivial advantages, and on the fourth day began

to sap up to the works, which they had surrounded. This day chanced to

be a Saturday, and the working party were surprised by an attack, in

their rear, from a body of the enemy's reinforcements seeking to enter

the pah, which they succeeded in doing, the working party having to

beat a retreat, with the loss of six men killed and five wounded. This

trivial success greatly elated the natives and so bucked up one of the

apostles that he at once started in and prophesied nineteen to the

dozen.

Now this Johnny possessed that small amount of knowledge that is so

dangerous to its owner. He had been brought up at a mission station,

and accustomed to going to church, with great regularity, every

Sunday. He therefore thought that all Christians acted in the same

way, and that the Colonial Irregulars would be just as methodical in

their religious observance as the goody-goody hangers-on at the

various mission stations he was acquainted with.

Here of course he made a blooming error, for what member of the Lost

Legion ever allowed preaching to interfere with fighting, or carried

devotional books about with him when he had to hump his own swag.

Now this josser, thinking he knew all about the customs of the white

man, considered he was quite safe in turning on his prophetic tap. So

on the evening after the small success already spoken about he started

in and informed his hearers that he had received a revelation,

directing the Hau Haus that on the following day, which was Sunday,

they were to leave the pah an hour before noon and advance on the

white men's shelter trenches, which they would find empty, and that

the majority of the latter who had not been turned into stone by the

angel Gabriel would be surprised at their devotions and fall a prey,

without any resistance, to the tender mercies of the Hau Haus, who, he

guaranteed, were to escape, scathless, from wounds or death.

These promises seem absurd to white men, but they were implicitly

believed by the Maoris, who next day acted on the strength of them.

The main position of the Colonials was in the rear of three strong

thorn hedges, two of which flanked the third, and these had all been

well trenched and were, of course, held, day and night, by a strong

guard; in fact the men lived and slept in them. Between the centre

hedge and the pah, a distance of less that 500 yards, stretched a

smooth meadow, without a particle of cover, and the astonishment of

our men was intense when, at 11 o'clock A.M., they saw some hundreds

of the Hau Haus quietly leave the pah and advance in two wedge-shaped

columns against the centre of their position. At first they thought it

was a general surrender, but the war flags the enemy carried rapidly

dispersed that idea; and when the two columns were well between the

three hedges, and not 100 yards from any of them, the bugle sounded

and a tremendous volley was poured into the misguided Maoris, who fell

in heaps of dead and wounded men. Notwithstanding the awful shock

their nerves must have received from this quite unexpected slaughter,

these gallant though fanatical warriors at once charged home and tried

to force their way through the strong thorn fence, only to be swept

away like flies. And soon the survivors had to beat a hasty retreat

back to the pah, lashed the whole way by the heavy fire of the white

men, who did not go to church.

It was during the advance that the incident I originally alluded to

took place. The first volley had smashed the Hau Haus' leading column,

the advance of which the apostle led in person; for, to give these

prophets only their just due, they never hung back from taking the

post of the greatest danger in any of the crazy enterprises that they

persuaded their disciples to undertake.

Well, the first volley knocked over the prophet, who fell badly

wounded, but succeeded in regaining his feet, whereupon one of the

chiefs, disengaging himself from the mass of stricken and shaken men,

deliberately walked up to him, drew his tomahawk and cleft his skull,

then, springing forward, led his surviving followers to almost certain

death. This might be called an instance of sharp and ready reckoning,

but it was by no means a singular case of rough and rapid retribution;

so that, taking into consideration the number of apostles who were

knocked over, in a legitimate manner, fighting, and those who were

tomahawked by furious and disappointed votaries, the trade could

scarcely be called a healthy one, and it must have required a great

amount of pluck on the man's part who took on himself the prophetic

rôle. But, then, what will not some men risk for notoriety?

Now, having finished with this Johnny, let me tell you about another

of a somewhat similar kidney.

The friendly tribes of the Wanganui sent a contingent to the east

coast, to assist us during the Opotiki Expedition, and among them was

a first-class, up-to-date prophet named Pitau. The Wanganui, at this

time, were not strong in prophets, so that this man was made much of

by his tribe, for although some of the young men had begun to deride

prophecy, yet the old warriors still implicitly believed in the

ancient cult, and regarded Pitau as a valuable adjunct to the field

force.

Now it was the usual custom of the various tribes, when they went to

war, to hold deep consultations with their tribal prophets, who for a

consideration would advise and foretell what was going to happen, and

if the war was going to prove successful or otherwise. It was so in

this case. Pitau was called on to lift the veil of futurity, and,

having gone through the necessary incantations, the oracle spoke as

follows:--"You will be successful in all things, O Wanganui: only one

man will die, and that man will be Pitau." Now this was distinctly

rough on Pitau, who must either die or be declared an impostor.

Anyhow, the oracle had spoken, and the war party started. The Wanganui

reached Opotiki, did their duty well, and on the completion of their

service were to take ship for home. Up to this time nearly everything

had panned out all right for the soothsayer, with regard to his

prophecy: the Wanganui had been successful and had not lost a single

man; but the oracle had distinctly stated Pitau was to die himself,

yet here he was still alive. It certainly was not his fault, for at

the fight at the Kiori-kino, and also in other skirmishes, he had done

his best to get killed, but seemed to bear a charmed life; yet if he

returned home alive, his name and reputation as a high-toned prophet

would be gone for ever. The Fates, however, gave him one more chance,

and he grasped it. Canoes, heavily ladened, were pushing off from the

shore to the ship: he sprang into one of these, and by his extra

weight swamped the canoe. The amphibious natives easily swam ashore,

but so did not Pitau, for, raising his arms above his head, he allowed

himself to sink down to his rest, among the eels and crabs, rather

than allow his prophecy to be unfulfilled. Surely there are many names

on the scroll of martyrs who have laid down their lives, to prove the

truth of their convictions, less worthy of fame than that of Pitau.

And now I think I may spin you a yarn about a personal experience I

had of the superstitious fears of the Maoris, although by doing so I

must confess to a _mauvaise plaisanterie_ I was guilty of

perpetrating, and of which I am thoroughly ashamed, that created a

greater emotion, among a party of highly respectable old cannibals,

than any convulsion of nature would have caused.

It happened in this way: I was well aware of the great superstitious

dread the Maoris had of the green lizard. These, although they exist

in New Zealand, are rare birds, and during the years I was there I

saw but few of them. The Maoris, however, believe that at death one of

these lizards enters a man's body, and consequently look on them with

horror and abhorrence. At the period I am yarning about, I was located

at Ohinimutu, in the hot lake district, and had made a short visit to

the town of Napier.

During my stay there, while wandering about the streets, I noticed

that a speculative storekeeper had added some children's toys to his

stock in trade, perhaps the very first that had ever been imported

into the country, and as they attracted my attention I stopped to

examine them. We are told that Old Nick is ever ready to prompt an

idle man, and he must have been mighty adjacent to me that day, for on

my spotting one of those old-fashioned, wooden crocodiles, painted a

vivid green with bright-red spots on it, I immediately went into the

shop and purchased it. The thing was constructed of small blocks of

wood, sawn in such a way, and connected together with string, that

when you held it in your hand it wriggled, and looked alive, while it

also possessed a gaping red mouth and staring eyes. The confounded

insect would not have raised a squall out of a nervous European babe

of a year old; but, such as it was, I put it into my kit and, on my

return up country, took it with me.

In due course of time I reached Ohinimutu, where, after a swim in the

hot water and a good dinner, I retired to my private abode, a large

hut built Maori fashion, but with European door and window, as I knew

I should have to give audience to some dozen chiefs of the Arawa

tribe, who would call on me to welcome my return and hear the news.

It did not take me long to prepare for their reception, and getting

the toy out of my kit, I slipped it up my left sleeve, so that it was

hidden. I then sat down in a low camp-chair and awaited my victims,

who soon arrived, giving me their words of welcome as they entered,

and squatting down in a semicircle in front of the fire, all of them

as keen as mustard to hear the news. They were a fine-looking lot of

old chaps, ten in number, and some of them almost gigantic in size.

Old Hori Haupapa must have stood over seven foot high, when in his

prime; and the rest were all big men. Anxious as they were to hear the

news, still they were far too well-bred to ask any questions, and, as

I pretended to be in very low spirits and sat speechless, heaving an

occasional deep sigh, they squatted there, conversing in low whispers,

with looks full of commiseration for my unhappy state.

For a few minutes we sat quiet, then I made signs to the girl who

attended on us to hand round the rum and tobacco: which she did. And

after each man had been served, letting go a dismal groan, I said:

"Friends, I thank you for your words of welcome. My heart is very

dark. I have dreamed a dream." Here I paused to let the poison work;

for a dream to a Maori audience is always a safe draw, and the

muttered grunts and ejaculations, passed round with nudges, showed me

they were quite ripe to believe anything. So I continued: "Yes,

friends, last night I dreamed a dream, and the interpretation of that

dream is hidden from me." Here I paused again, and slipped the toy

into my left hand, which rested on my left knee, while I held their

eyes with my own, so that, in the firelit whare, none of them noticed

my sleight of hand. Then I continued: "I dreamed, O chiefs of the

Arawa, that we all sat, as we are doing now, by this fire, when lo!

out of my left hand crept a ngaraka" (green lizard). Here again I

paused, but so did not my hearers, for old Taupua, glancing nervously

at my left hand, at once spotted what he thought to be a dreaded

lizard. The grim old warrior let go a howl of consternation and

promptly turned a back somersault, thereby drawing the attention of

all the others to the noxious reptile; and in one moment these

dignified old savages, who would have faced without flinching the fire

of a battery of artillery sooner than have committed a gaucherie, were

trying to push and struggle through the door, with no more regard to

manners or manhood than the ordinary well-dressed Englishman displays

who pushes ladies on one side while boarding a tram.

The first one to reach the door was an ancient, who did not understand

the mechanism of a white man's lock, so failed to open it; and in a

moment they were climbing over one another's backs, in their frantic

endeavours to escape until the end of the whare gave way, and the big

chiefs of the Arawa tribe precipitated themselves, door and all, into

outer darkness, where they formed a confused heap of writhing, howling

humanity. At last they struggled free, and each man made for his own

hut, all fully convinced that something dreadful was going to happen

and that the whole community was past praying for. Nor did the panic

end here; for in a moment the tribe was roused up and, the awful news

being promulgated, in two flirts of a cat's tail, every man, woman

and child had cleared out of the kainga. Yes, those who had canoes

took to them, and those who had none used their legs, and used them to

some advantage, for in less time than it takes me to write it the

whole of that congregation of peaceful natives had abandoned their

happy homes and fled.

Well, after my first burst of laughter was over, I began to count up

the cost of my stupid joke, and at once saw I was likely to have to

pay dearly for my fun. To commence with, my hut would have to be

rebuilt; but that was a trifle. What I had to fear was the censure of

the Government, as the Defence Minister was an old Scotsman, without a

particle of fun in his whole corpus, so was not likely to view the

scatterment of his most pampered tribe with equanimity, and visions of

reasons in writing and prosecutions danced before my eyes. It was

clear that the first thing to be done was to get the natives to come

back to their kainga; but how? I knew full well they would not suffer

me to approach within a mile of any of them, and although I had some

sterling friends among the fighting chiefs, yet, if I could not get

speech with them, so as to explain matters to them, their good will

would be of no use to me.

Fortunately, among the men dwelling at Ohinimutu was a Ngapuhi native,

and I engaged him to act as messenger; but, although he was a red-hot

Christian, nothing would persuade him to come near, much less touch,

the wretched toy. I, however, induced this man to go over to Mokoia

Island, see the principal tribal tohunga, and get him to come across

and interview me. Fitting him out with a gallon of rum and plenty of

tobacco, I despatched my Mercury and awaited his return in

trepidation. On the morning of the second day he reported himself, and

informed me that the tohunga awaited me, but that, as nothing would

induce the limb of Satan to land, I must go down to the lake, and he

would discourse with me from his canoe. So I had to go to the lake and

collogue with the old sinner from the point of a jutting-out cape.

After I had tried to make him understand the true state of affairs, I

produced the toy; but nothing I could say would induce him to believe

that it was composed of inanimate wood. No, he could see it move,

swore it was alive, and sternly refused to touch it, or even come

closer to me, so that he could examine it. At last, happy thought, I

suggested I should burn it. To this he consented. So, putting the

unfortunate crocodile on the top of a flat stone, I collected some dry

sticks and, with him watching every movement, constructed a funeral

pyre, and cremated the wretched toy to ashes. Then he consented to

land and came up to my hut, where he went through many incantations

and gesticulations, although he avoided touching or entering it.

Presently he turned to me and said: "This and all it contains must be

at once burned. Have you removed anything from it?" I had not; though,

expecting something of this sort to happen, I had taken every care

that my servant should do so, and that absolutely nothing of value

remained within it; so, like a Radical Minister, I only told half the

truth. "Set it on fire," quoth he, and this I did with equanimity, as

it would only give the Maoris the trouble of building me a better one,

so that in a few minutes not a vestige of my late mansion remained. As

everything that had been contaminated by the penny toy was now

supposed to be destroyed, the old tohunga consented to discuss terms

of peace, which consisted as follows:--first, that I should hand over,

privately, to the tohunga himself, one gallon of rum, three pounds of

tobacco and twenty-five pounds of flour, the said tohunga guaranteeing

to at once dream a dream directing the natives to rebuild my house,

with great rapidity. Secondly, that at the general tangi, to be held

next day, on the return of the natives, I was to provide ten gallons

of rum, twenty pounds of tobacco and half-a-ton of flour, all of which

was to be consumed thereat. And lastly, should I on any future

occasion go to Napier, and discover any more instruments of white

man's devilry, I was to bring them to him, when, with a little

judicious management, we could work many miracles to our mutual

advantage.

All these terms having been agreed to, Satan's representative among

the Arawa departed, and the next morning all his congregation,

accompanied by many of their country friends, returned, when a big

tangi with much feasting and dancing took place; but even my very best

friends looked askance at me for a long time, while for some weeks the

majority of the women, girls and children would fly from me as if I

had the plague.

You must not think for a moment that this avoidance was caused by ill

will, or that the old chiefs bore me any malice for the shameful trick

I had played them, or that I was fined the rum, flour, etc., for the

evil I had done. Not a bit of it. I was mulct for my misfortune, not

for my fault. In their eyes no fault had been committed. If Moses

himself had returned to tell them I had played them a trick, they

would not have believed him. No; had they not seen the beast come out

of my hand at the very moment I was relating my dream? Trick indeed,

not much. They looked on me as an awful example of misfortune, and

therefore as a fit and proper personage to be politely robbed.

Yes, robbed. Had I been a Maori, not only myself but all my family

would have been robbed of every single article we possessed in the

world, in payment for the affliction of bad luck that had fallen on

me; but as I was a white man this could not be done, so I was fined.

For is not this in accordance with the ancient custom or law of Muru,

which authorises a man smitten by a sudden calamity to be plundered of

all he possesses? And what greater calamity was possible to mortal man

than to have an obscene lizard grow out of his hand? Therefore I was

fined. As for trick, nonsense! What man dare make fun of, or render

ridiculous, the dignity and majesty of the head chiefs of the Arawa

tribe?

I think I may say a few more words on this extraordinary law of

muru--a law that Europeans regarded with laughter and contempt; yet it

worked very well among the natives, and should any family have met

with misfortune and the law not have been put in force against them,

they would have considered themselves not only slighted, but insulted.

It also, among others, contained one salient good quality, as it

caused all personal portable property constantly to change hands, for

the family that was plundered one day would, in the ordinary course of

events, rob some other family a few days afterwards, so that a canoe,

blanket or any household utensil might pass through many hands and, if

not worn out during its transits, might at last return to its original

possessor. Yet to a white man it did seem funny that a party of

natives _en route_ to visit another family, and whose canoe should be

capsized when landing, were not only robbed of their canoe, but that

the unlucky ones would have considered themselves insulted had not

their friends immediately annexed it.

I remember well that once, while on a journey to visit a pah,

accompanied by a chief of some importance, in fact he was a native

assessor--_i.e._ a sort of Maori J.P. appointed by Government--a very

queer illustration of the law of muru cropped up.

We were to inquire into some trivial case, the defendant being the son

of the chief of the place, and the utmost penalty not more than five

shillings. Just as we reached the pah my companion, who was riding a

fine, high-spirited horse, was bucked off, and while in the act of

rising received a severe kick on the croup. He was picked up with much

solicitude, all the natives condoling with him. The case was tried and

settled, the defendant being mulct two shillings and sixpence, and

next day, when about to depart, the horses being brought to the gate

of the pah, my companion's horse was not forthcoming. At once I

demanded the reasons why, and was informed it had been annexed as

muru, for throwing and kicking my unfortunate friend, who at once

acquiesced in the judgment and thanked the chief of the pah for his

courtesy in paying him such an honour.

Again I was on a visit to a pah situated close to the mouth of a

river, on the other side of which was another pah. One day my hosts

started out to shoot a huge seine net, and of course the whole

population turned out to assist or give advice. The noise, as everyone

yelled at the top of his or her gamut, was deafening. However, two

large canoes eventually got away with the net on board, and after

taking a bold sweep returned to shore and landed the sea end.

Immediately all hands, redoubling their yells, tailed on to the

hauling ropes and pulled and howled with all their might. Just as the

bag of the net came in view, a huge shark, that had been encompassed

in its toils, made a bold dash, broke the net and escaped, letting

out, at the same time, many large fish. The excited and disappointed

natives were just dragging the net and the still great remainder of

the catch up on to the sand, when their neighbours, apprised by the

yells that something unfortunate had occurred, dashed across the river

in their canoes, and after a sham resistance of a few minutes swept up

and carried off all the remaining fish. They might also have

confiscated the net, but did not, an old chief confiding to me that

the other side of the river was full of rocks, and not suitable for

seine netting; moreover, the net was broken and would require

repairing. Such was the law of muru.

Of course to yarn about New Zealand without saying anything about the

custom of Tapu would be on all fours with yarning about Rome and not

mentioning the Pope. So here goes for a few remarks about the ancient

but very confusing custom of tapu.

Anything animate or inanimate could be rendered tapu by the will, or

even touch, of a man who was tapu himself. Tapu might also render a

thing so sacred, or might render it so unclean, that to touch that

thing would constitute an act of unpardonable sacrilege, or cause the

toucher to be looked upon as so defiled as to be ostracised by the

whole community, although the act was done innocently and in

ignorance.

To break a tapu was looked upon, by the superstitious natives, as a

direct challenge to the greatly dreaded spiritual powers, and was

certain to bring swift and awful punishment.

A big chief was tapu, and if he went to war the essence of tapu became

doubly distilled, so much so that he could not feed himself, nor even

touch food with his hands. Nor could he even touch a cup or utensil

that did not actually belong to himself, for if he did so, the article

he used at once became so tapu that no one else could use it;

consequently it became either his personal property, or had to be

destroyed. This in a country where there were neither shops nor

manufactories was an impossibility, so that at meal-time a chief had

to eat apart, and be fed by either a girl or slave. Truly the sublime

approached the ridiculous, to see a grim, tattooed old warrior

squatting down, with a small girl throwing morsels of food into his

mouth, or with his head thrown back, and his jaws extended to their

full width, receiving a stream of water, poured down his throat, from

the spout of an ancient tea-kettle. Even an ordinary warrior, not

being a slave, lost his back when on the warpath--_i.e._ his back

became so tapu that he could carry nothing, much less provisions, on

it; and this was also very inconvenient when having to march through a

rough, bushed country, without waggons or pack-horses. Food could even

become tapu, especially that which remained from the portion served

out for the use of the chief, even though no part of his body had

touched it; and there is a well-authenticated case, that on one

occasion a slave, being on the warpath, found some food and ate it. No

sooner had he done so than he was informed it was the remains of the

dinner of the fighting chief. This news so horrified the poor

superstitious wretch that he was at once taken ill with sharp internal

pains, and died.

The Maoris always made their plantations in the bush, frequently at a

considerable distance from their kaingas, and these, after the

potatoes had been planted, would only be occasionally visited by their

owners, who, to protect them, would get the chief or tohunga to tapu

the plantation; and this being done, the produce would be quite safe

from the depredations of others.

About the year 1870 some six brace of pheasants were turned loose in

the Waikato district, and the principal chief put his tapu on them for

seven years. These birds increased and throve in a manner truly

wonderful. Not a Maori dare touch one, although long before the period

of protection had expired the birds had not only spread all over the

Waikato district, but also over all the adjoining ones. And they

carried their protection with them, for notwithstanding the fact that

they had become somewhat of a nuisance to the Arawa tribe, who were

not in any way subordinate to the Waikato chief, yet they respected

his tapu, and would have starved sooner than eaten them.

It was by making use of this tapu that the wonderful head of game and

fish at present in New Zealand has been reared and acclimatised.

Should a chief die within his whare, that hut and everything it

contained at once became tapu and was lost to use; for as soon as his

body had been removed, the door was at once blocked up, and the hut

with its contents allowed to moulder away, no one daring to touch,

much less remove, one single article. Tapu, therefore, in a manner of

speaking, was the antipoise of the law of muru, for if the enforcement

of the latter rendered the portable property of an individual or tribe

precarious, yet tapu made his title indissoluble; so the two laws or

customs got on very well together, and may exist to the present day.

I cannot leave my friends the Maoris without speaking about their

awful cruelty in torturing and killing their prisoners, and in the

foul massacres of helpless women and children.

Yet even in this there may be something said in their favour,

especially should you compare them, savages as they were, with the

human monsters that every Christian European country has produced,

when they would be found no more cruel or bloodthirsty.

Now I don't want to draw parallels in history, but it rather disgusts

me to hear Alva, Tilly, Nana Sahib, or even Te Kooti, run down, while

such a cold-blooded villain as Cromwell is extolled.

I was taught as a schoolboy to regard Tilly and Alva as the

incarnations of Satan; I suppose because they made it sultry for

Protestants; but it was not pointed out to me that at the very same

time Alva and his Spanish troops were making it hot for Lutherans in

the Netherlands, the English troops of Protestant Queen Bess were

perpetrating infinitely worse brutalities on the helpless Irish, while

the fiendish cruelties of Tilly's wild Croats and Pandours, at the

sack of Magdeburg, were equalled, if not surpassed, at Drogheda, by

Oliver Cromwell and his canting hypocritical Puritans.

I am myself an Irishman, a Protestant, a Unionist and an Imperialist,

just as ready to fight for our King and Flag as ever I was during the

forty years I passed on the Colonial frontiers, but I can blame none

of my countrymen for the hatred they feel towards England, provided

they fight like men and eschew all cowardly, underhand, secret

societies; and I am convinced it will require many centuries to roll

past before the recollection of the Penal Laws and the foul, savage

treachery of past English rule is obliterated, while the curse of

Cromwell will remain for ever. Nana Sahib and Te Kooti did not,

combined, kill as many helpless women and children as either Alva,

Tilly or Cromwell; yet, as they killed all they could, they cannot be

blamed for that, and I have no doubt that on their arrival in Hades

they were assigned just as honourable entertainment and particular

attentions as the aristocratic fiend, the priestly murderer or the

Puritan cut-throat.

It must also be remembered that the atrocities committed by Te Kooti

and his fanatical followers might be blamed upon the fiendish faith

they had adopted and had never been practised by the Maoris during

the previous six years of the war, also that they were more or less

fighting in defence of their country against invaders. Again, Te Kooti

had been the victim of gross injustice, at the hands of the Colonial

Government, insomuch as he had been transported without trial, and

that the evidence against him was not only insufficient, but was also

of such a nature that the law officers of the Crown could find no

excuse even to bring him to a trial, so that many of his brutalities

were prompted by a desire for utu, a custom universally practised by

the Maoris.

Please don't think I have written the above for the purpose of

deifying England's enemy, or to slander my own countrymen like a

Radical Little Englander, for I would have, at any time, blown the

roof off Te Kooti's head, or that of one of his followers, with as

little compunction as I have since shot a mangy jackal; but I have

written it simply to show that, if savage New Zealand produced one

fiend, in the shape of Te Kooti, Christian England produced a worse

one in the shape of that sanctimonious hypocrite, Oliver Cromwell, and

that therefore we should not endanger our own glass by throwing

stones.

I alluded just now to the custom of utu, which means payment or

revenge, and is very similar to the law of the Jews, that laid down

the maxim of an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth--an axiom which

the Maoris believe in thoroughly.

It was the practice of this custom that led to many of the sanguinary

combats and massacres that took place between the armed traders and

the natives during the first half of the past century. These traders

visited New Zealand and exchanged muskets, powder, ironware, etc., for

flax, whale oil, curios and men's heads. They were a hard-fisted,

lawless crowd, who, in their brigs or schooners, well armed with

musket, pike and carronade, would anchor in one of the splendid

natural harbours and begin their traffic with the haughty, warlike

savages.

Business carried on between such men as these often brought about a

row, which a musket shot or a slash from cutlass or tomahawk would not

improve, and the ship would then sail away, after most likely the

killing or wounding of some natives. The remembrance of the blood

spilt would be treasured by the Maoris, and the next trader who

visited that place would have to pay for the evil deeds of the

previous visitor. Now the Maori looked on all white men as belonging

to the same tribe, and the custom of utu allowed any man injured by an

individual to wreak his vengeance upon any member of the said

individual's tribe, provided his particular enemy were absent. In this

he was backed up by all the members of his own tribe, especially if

blood had been drawn; for tribal blood must be paid for with blood,

and no Sicilian clan ever carried out a vendetta more thoroughly than

a Maori hapu. This being so, the Maoris eagerly looked for the next

vessel, to take their blood payment for the blood spilt.

Knowing full well that their canoes and spears were no match for the

well-armed ship, they would bide their time and have recourse to

treachery. The white men would be received with apparent good will,

and, if foolish enough, might be lulled into a mistaken sense of

security. This being done, the majority of the crew would be enticed

ashore, where, taken off their guard, or separated, they would be

attacked, killed and eaten, while the ship, weakened by the loss of so

many men, was sometimes boarded and captured, the natives thereby

obtaining utu for the original injury done them.

Maoris were very punctilious about the honour of their tribes and

ancestors, this being carried to an extent almost ludicrous. _Par

exemple_, a year or two before I left New Zealand an old woman

belonging to one tribe was planting potatoes, and as she shoved each

tuber into the ground she called it by the name of one of the

principal living chiefs or dead heroes of an adjoining tribe. This

came to the ears of the said tribe, who immediately prepared for war,

despatching an ultimatum that, unless the plantation and all the spuds

it contained were at once destroyed, they would attack their insulting

neighbours. The _casus belli_ must seem very absurd to a white man;

but it was different to the offended tribe, as when, in the course of

events, the murphies became ready for the pot, the scandalous old dame

would be able to declare that she was not only devouring their living

chiefs, but that, vampire-like, she was feeding upon their defunct

ones.

I mentioned that the Maoris performed many splendid acts of courage in

getting away their wounded and even their dead. This was done not only

for love or comradeship, but to prevent the enemy from using their

flesh in lieu of butcher's meat, and also to save their bones being

turned into useful and ornamental articles by their opponents.

For instance, let us suppose that during some ancient war, the Waikato

tribe fighting against the Taranaki, the former should have killed and

captured the body of a great war chief whom we will call Te Rawa. The

flesh of the dead man, in the first place, would be eaten--a great

indignity--but that would not be the end of him, for the bones would

be preserved, and turned into fish-hooks, flutes and ornaments, the

teeth strung nicely on flax, making a necklace; and it was not

pleasant for the victim's descendants to hear that their revered

though unfortunate ancestor was still furnishing food and bijouterie

for the offspring of his slayer.

Now all the aforementioned useful articles were called by the name of

the man they had, in the first place, belonged to--in this case Te

Rawa. The owner of the fish-hook could boast that he was still eating

Te Rawa, as he would call all the fish caught by that special hook Te

Rawa. Then, pointing to the necklace, he might brag he was wearing Te

Rawa, and when inclined for music he would tootle on his flute and

proudly declare he was playing Te Rawa; so that the unfortunate

descendants of the poor old defunct, whenever they heard of this,

would have to blush under their tattooed skins at the very name of

their much-deplored ancestor.

It was therefore a most sacred duty to rescue a dead or wounded

comrade from the enemy, even when fighting against the white men; for

although the natives well knew that we did not use their defunct

relatives for rations, nor turn them into musical instruments, yet it

had become so strong a custom among themselves to guard against such a

possible catastrophe, that they still practised it although

unnecessarily.

I must revert once more to the custom of utu so as to point out the

fair-mindedness of the natives should this law be used against

themselves. Let me give you just one instance.

The circumstance took place after the capture of Ngatapa. Some 130 Hau

Haus had been taken prisoners, these being shot out of hand and their

bodies thrown over a precipice; but six or eight of them remained

alive, in our hands, as it was not certain they had participated in

the Poverty Bay massacre. They were confined in a hut awaiting trial

and, as all the murdered people were dead, it was a moot point whether

these fellows would not get off for want of evidence. One of the men,

however, whose relations had been murdered, determined that they

should not slip through the clumsy fingers of the law, as alas so many

of the blood-stained villains had succeeded in doing. He volunteered

to act as one of the guard round the hut and, borrowing another

revolver from a mate, he took the first opportunity to enter the hut

and deliberately blew out the brains of all the inmates.

This act of summary justice was fully approved of by the Maoris, as it

bore out the custom of utu; for if the defunct Hau Haus had not

murdered the man's family themselves, yet their tribes had done so;

and they considered it a square deal, as blood had been paid for by

blood.

I could yarn on about these queer people for hours and tell you of

plenty of other quaint customs, such as their wakes, marriages, etc.,

also about their industry and other qualities, good and bad, for,

faith! they have them mixed like all other people. But if you have

followed and appreciated my first attempt it will encourage me to

write more of my humble experiences on the frontiers of the Empire

with the old Lost Legion I love so well.