Maori and Settler: A Story of The New Zealand War

"Hot work, Wilfrid," Mr. Atherton said as he lowered his terrible weapon and wiped the streaming perspiration from his face; "but we have given the rascals such a lesson that we can journey on at our leisure. This is a bad business of poor Sampson's. I will help you down first and then we will see to him. Recharge your revolver, lad," he went on as Wilfrid stood beside him; "some of these fellows may not be dead, and may play us an ugly trick if we are not on the look-out."

Wilfrid reloaded his pistol, and Mr. Atherton then stooped over the fallen man.

"He is desperately hurt," he said, "but he breathes. Hand me that revolver, Wilfrid, and run back and tell Mrs. Sampson her husband is hurt."

Wilfrid had gone but a yard or two when he met his mother and the settler's wife, who, hearing the cessation of the firing, were no longer able to restrain their anxiety as to what was going forward. Mrs. Renshaw gave a cry of joy at seeing Wilfrid walking towards her.

"Is it all over, my boy, and are you unhurt?"

"It is all over, mother, and they have bolted. I have not had a scratch, for I have been lying down all the time in shelter; but I am sorry to say, Mrs. Sampson, that your husband is badly hurt.

"No; he is not dead," he continued in answer to the agonized expression of inquiry in her eyes. "He has been stunned by the blow of a tomahawk, and is, as I said, badly hurt; but he will, I trust, get over it."

Mrs. Sampson ran forward and threw herself on her knees by her husband's side, uttering a suppressed cry as she saw the terrible wound on his head.

"Wilfrid, there is a bottle of water untouched in the basket," Mr. Atherton said.

"I will fetch it," Mrs. Renshaw broke in, hurrying away. "No, Milly," she said, as the child who had been ordered to stay with the basket came running to meet her. "You must stay here for a little while. The natives have all run away, but your father is hurt and for a time must be kept quite quiet. I will send Wilfrid to sit with you."

Taking a bottle of water and a cloth which covered the basket, Mrs. Renshaw hurried back. "Wilfrid," she said, "do you go and sit with the little one. You can do no good here, and look completely worn out. You will be making yourself useful if you amuse Milly and keep her away from here for the present."

Mr. Atherton poured a little of the water into the cover of his flask, added some brandy, and poured a little of it between the wounded man's lips. Then he saturated the cloth with water and handed it to Mrs. Sampson, who wiped the blood from her husband's head and face, then poured a little water from the bottle on to his forehead. Some more brandy and water was poured between his lips and he uttered a faint groan.

"I will examine his wound now, Mrs. Sampson. I have had some experience that way in my journeyings about the world." Kneeling down he carefully examined the wound.

"It is better than I hoped, Mrs. Sampson," he said cheerfully. "I expect the thick hat turned the tomahawk a little and it fell obliquely on the side of the head. It has carried away a goodish slice of the hair and scalp, and has starred the bone, but it has not crushed it in, and I think that with care and nursing your husband will not be long before he gets over it. You had better fold up that cloth again, pour some fresh water over it, and then bandage it over the wound with a slip of stuff torn off from the bottom of your petticoat. You had better tear off two slips, for his arm will require bandaging too. I will look to that as soon as you have done his head. No," he went on, when he saw that Mrs. Sampson's trembling fingers were quite incapable of fixing the bandage properly, "I do not think that will do. If you will allow me I will do it for you."

He took Mrs. Sampson's place, and while Mrs. Renshaw supported the settler's head he wound the bandage tightly and skilfully round it. "Now for his arm," he said, and drawing out his knife cut the sleeve up the shoulder. "It has narrowly missed the artery," he went on; "but though it is an ugly-looking gash it is not serious. I wish we had some more water, but as we haven't we must do without it, and I daresay we shall come across a stream soon." When the operation of bandaging was complete Mr. Atherton stood up.

"What are we to do next?" Mrs. Renshaw asked him.

"We must cut a couple of saplings and make a litter," he said. "If one of you ladies can spare a petticoat, please take it off while I cut the poles." He went away and returned in a few minutes with two poles ten or eleven feet long.

"Here is the petticoat," Mrs. Renshaw said. The settler's wife was too absorbed by her grief and anxiety to hear Mr. Atherton's request. "What is to be done with it?"

"In the first place it must be taken out of that band, or whatever you call it," Mr. Atherton replied, "and then split right down. Here is my knife."

When the garment had been operated upon there remained a length of strong calico nearly three feet wide and three yards long. "That will do well," he said. "Now we have to fasten this to the poles. How would you do that? It is more in your way than mine."

"I should roll it twice round the pole and then sew it, if I had a needle and thread. If I had not that I should make holes in every six inches and tie it with string; but unfortunately we have no string either."

"I think we can manage that," Mr. Atherton said; and he walked rapidly away and returned in a few minutes with some long stalks that looked like coarse grass.

"This is the very thing, Mrs. Renshaw," he said; "this is what is called New Zealand flax, and I have no doubt it will be strong enough for our purpose." In a quarter of an hour the litter was completed. Just as it was finished Mrs. Sampson uttered an exclamation of joy, and turning round, they saw that her husband had opened his eyes and was looking round in a dazed, bewildered way.

"It is all right, Sampson," Mr. Atherton said cheerfully; "we have thrashed the natives handsomely; they have bolted, and there is no fear of their coming back again. You have had a clip on the head with a tomahawk, but I do not think that you will be much the worse for it at the end of a week or two. We have just been manufacturing a litter for you, and now we will lift you on to it. Now, ladies, I will take him by the shoulders; will you take him by the feet, Mrs. Renshaw; and do you, Mrs. Sampson, support his head? That is the way. Now, I will just roll up my coat and put it under his head, and then I think he will do; lay our rifles beside him. Now, I will take the two handles at his head; do you each take one at his feet. The weight will not be great, and you can change about when your arms get tired. Yes, I see what you are thinking about, Mrs. Renshaw. We must go along bit by bit. We will carry our patient here for half a mile, then I will come back and fetch Wilfrid up to that point, then we will go on again, and so on."

"All the hard work falls on you, Mr. Atherton; it is too bad," Mrs. Renshaw said with grateful tears in her eyes.

"It will do me a world of good, Mrs. Renshaw. I must have lost over a stone weight since yesterday. If this sort of thing were to go on for a few weeks I should get into fighting condition. Now, are you both ready? Lift."

In a short time they came to the point where Wilfrid and the child were sitting down together. Wilfrid had been impressing upon her that her father was hurt, and that she must be very good and quiet, and walk along quietly by her mother's side. So when they came along she got up and approached them with a subdued and awe-struck air. She took the hand her mother held out to her.

"Is father very bad, mother?" she asked in a low tone.

"He is better than he was, dear, and we must hope and pray that he will soon be well again; but at present you must not speak to him. He must be kept very quiet and not allowed to talk."

"You sit where you are, Wilfrid, I will come back for you in half an hour," Mr. Atherton said.

"That you won't Mr. Atherton," Wilfrid said, getting up. "I have had a long rest, for, except for pulling my trigger and loading, I have done nothing since the first short walk when we started this morning. All this excitement has done me a lot of good, and I feel as if I could walk ever so far."

"Well, put your rifle in the litter, then," Mr. Atherton said; "its weight will make no difference to us, and it will make a lot of difference to you; when you are tired say so."

Wilfrid struggled on resolutely, refusing to stop until they reached a stream two miles from the starting-place. Here they rested for an hour. The settler's wounds were washed and rebandaged, the others partook of a meal of bread and water, and they then continued the journey. At the end of another half-mile Wilfrid was obliged to own that his strength could hold out no longer, but he refused positively to accept Mr. Atherton's proposal to come back for him.

"I will not hear of it, Mr. Atherton," he said. "From what Mrs. Sampson says it is another eight or ten miles to the Mahia country. There is not the least fear of any of the Hau-Haus following on our track. The best way by far is this: I will go a hundred yards into the bush and lie down. You push on. It will be dark before you finish your journey as it is, you would not get there till to-morrow morning if you had to keep on coming back for me; besides, you would never get on with the litter after it is dark. Leave me a piece of bread, a bottle of water, my rifle and revolver, and I shall be as comfortable among the bushes there as if I were in bed. In the morning you can send out a party of Mahias to fetch me in. If you break down a small bough here by the side of the way, that will be quite sufficient to tell the natives where they are to turn off from the path to look for me."

"Well, I really think that is the best plan, Wilfrid. There is, as you say, no real danger in your stopping here alone. It would be a long job coming back for you every time we halt, and it is of importance to get Mr. Sampson laid down and quiet as soon as possible."

Mrs. Renshaw did not like leaving Wilfrid alone; but she saw that she could be of no real assistance to him, and her aid was absolutely required to carry the wounded man. She therefore offered no objections to the proposal.

"Don't look downcast, mother," Wilfrid said as he kissed her. "The weather is fine, and there is no hardship whatever in a night in the bush, especially after what we went through when we were following Te Kooti."

Wilfrid made his way a hundred yards back into the bush and then threw himself down under a tree-fern, and in a very few minutes he was sound asleep. The next time he awoke all was dark around him.

"I must have slept a good many hours," he said. "I feel precious hungry." He ate a hunch of bread, took a drink of water from the bottle, and soon fell asleep again. The morning was breaking when he again woke. A quarter of an hour later he heard voices, and cocking his rifle and lying down full length on the grass, waited. In another minute to his joy he heard Mr. Atherton's voice shouting, "Where are you, Wilfrid? Where have you hidden yourself?"

CHAPTER XVI
THE PURSUIT OF TE KOOTI

He leapt to his feet and ran forward. Mr. Atherton was approaching, accompanied by a party of six natives.

"Why, Mr. Atherton, I was not expecting you for another three hours."

"Well, you see, Wilfrid, your mother was anxious about you. She did not say anything, for she is a plucky woman, and not given to complaining or grumbling, still I could see she was anxious, so I arranged with these natives to be ready to start three hours before daybreak, so as to get here just as the sun was rising."

"It is awfully kind of you, Atherton; but surely the natives would have been able to find me without your troubling yourself to come all this way again. I am sure you must have been dreadfully tired after all your work yesterday."

"Well, Wilfrid, perhaps I was just a little bit anxious myself about you, and should have fussed and fidgeted until you got back, so you see the quickest way to satisfy myself was to come with the natives."

"What time did you get in last night?"

"About eight o'clock in the evening, I think. We were all pretty well knocked up, but the two ladies bore it bravely, so you see I had no excuse for grumbling."

"I am sure you would not have grumbled anyhow," Wilfrid laughed; "but I know that when one is carrying anyone the weight at the head is more than double the weight at the feet, and that was divided between them, while you had the heavy end all to yourself. And how is Sampson?"

"I think he will do, Wilfrid. The natives took him in hand as soon as he got there, and put leaf poultices to his wounds. They are very good at that sort of thing; and so they ought to be, considering they have been breaking each other's heads almost from the days of Adam. Well, let us be off. We have brought the stretcher with us, and shall get you back in no time."

Wilfrid lay down upon the stretcher. Four of the natives lifted it and went off at a light swinging pace. From time to time changes were made, the other two natives taking their share. Had they been alone the natives could have made the ten miles' journey under the two hours, but Mr. Atherton reduced their speed directly after they had started.

"I have not been killed by the Hau-Haus, Wilfrid, and I do not mean to let myself be killed by friendly natives. Three miles an hour is my pace, and except in a case of extreme emergency I never exceed it. I have no wish, when I get back to England, to be exhibited as a walking skeleton.

"It is good to hear you laugh again, lad," he went on as Wilfrid burst into a shout of laughter, to the astonishment of his four bearers. "I was afraid six weeks back that we should never hear you laugh again."

"Oh, Mr. Atherton!" Wilfrid exclaimed a few minutes later, "were there any other of the Poverty Bay people there last night; and have you heard what took place and whether many besides those we know of have lost their lives?"

"Yes; I am sorry to say it has been a very bad business. As we heard from Butters, Dodd and Reppart were killed, and there is no doubt that their shepherd was also slaughtered. Major Biggs, poor fellow, has paid for his obstinacy and over-confidence with his life. His wife, baby, and servant were also killed. The news of this was brought by a boy employed in the house, who escaped by the back-door and hid in a flax bush. Captain Wilson, his wife, and children have all been murdered. M'Culloch was killed with his wife and baby; the little boy managed to escape, and got to the redoubt at Taranganui. Cadel was also killed. Fortunately Firmin heard the sound of musketry in the night. He started at dawn to see what was the matter. He met a native, who told him that the Hau-Haus were massacring the whites, and at once rode off and warned Wylie, Stevenson, Benson, Hawthorne, and Strong; and these all escaped with their families, and with Major Westrupp got safely to the Mahia people.

"The boy who escaped from Major Biggs's house reached Bloomfields, and all the women and children there managed to escape. How they did it heaven only knows, for the Hau-Haus were all round. That is all we know at present, and we hope that the rest of the settlers of the outlying stations round Matawhero succeeded in getting into Taranganui. Whether the Hau-Haus will be satisfied with the slaughter they have effected, or will try to penetrate further into the settlement or attack Taranganui, remains to be seen. Of course the people who have escaped are, like ourselves, ignorant of everything that has taken place except what happened in their immediate neighbourhood. I should fancy, myself, that however widespread the massacre may have been, the Hau-Haus started last night on their way back. They would know that as soon as the news reached Wairoa the force there will be on the move to cut them off."

"Do you think they will succeed?" Wilfrid asked eagerly.

"I do not think so, Wilfrid. If Colonel Whitmore were there they would have routed out Te Kooti long ago, but Colonel Lambert seems a man of a different stamp altogether. Why, I heard last night that he marched six days ago to Whataroa, quite close to Te Kooti's place, and that a prisoner they took gave them positive information that the Hau-Haus there had all left to assist Te Kooti in a raid upon Poverty Bay. It seems they did not believe the news; at anyrate, although a mail left for Poverty Bay on the day after they returned to Wairoa, they sent no news whatever of the report they had heard. If they had done so there would have been plenty of time for the settlers to prepare for the attack.

"It is one of the most scandalous cases of neglect that I ever heard of, and Lambert ought to be tried by court-martial, though that would not bring all these people to life again. However there is one thing certain, the news of this affair will create such a sensation throughout the island that even the incapable government at Auckland, who have disregarded all the urgent requests for aid against Te Kooti, will be forced to do something, and I sincerely hope they will despatch Whitmore with a strong force of constabulary to wipe out Te Kooti and his band. It is curious how things come about. Almost all these poor fellows who have been killed belonged to the Poverty Bay militia, who refused to press on with Whitmore in pursuit of Te Kooti. Had they done so, the addition of thirty white men to his force might have made all the difference in that fight you had with him, and in that case Te Kooti would have been driven far up the country, and this massacre would never have taken place."

It was a great relief to Mrs. Renshaw when Wilfrid reached the village. She was not given to idle fears, and felt convinced that he was running no real danger; for she knew Mr. Atherton would not have left him by himself had he not been perfectly convinced there was no danger of pursuit. Still she felt a weight lifted off her mind when she saw the party entering the village.

"Well, mother, you must have had a terrible journey of it yesterday," Wilfrid said, after he had assured her that he felt none the worse for what had passed, and was indeed stronger and better than he had been two days before.

"It was a terrible journey, Wilfrid. Fourteen miles does not seem such a very long distance to walk, though I do not suppose I ever walked as far since I was a girl; but the weight of the stretcher made all the difference. It did not feel much when we started, but it soon got heavier as we went on; and though we changed sides every few minutes it seemed at last as if one's arms were being pulled out of their sockets. We could never have done it if it had not been for Mr. Atherton. He kept us cheery the whole time. It seems ridiculous to remember that he has always been representing himself as unequal to any exertion. He was carrying the greater part of the weight, and indeed five miles before we got to the end of our journey, seeing how exhausted we were becoming, he tied two sticks six feet long to our end of the poles, and in that way made the work a great deal lighter for us, and of course a great deal heavier for himself. He declared he hardly felt it, for by that time I had torn two wide strips from the bottom of my dress, tied them together, and put them over his shoulders and fastened them to the two poles; so that he got the weight on his shoulders instead of his hands. But in addition to Mr. Sampson's weight he carried Milly perched on his shoulder the last eight miles. He is a noble fellow."

"He did not say anything about carrying Milly," Wilfrid said, "or of taking all the weight of the litter. He is a splendid fellow, mother."

"He was terribly exhausted when he got in," Mrs. Renshaw said; "and was looking almost as pale as death when we went into the light in the hut where the other fugitives had assembled. As soon as the others relieved him of the weight of the litter, and lifted Milly down from his shoulder, he went out of the hut. As soon as I had seen Mr. Sampson well cared for, I went out to look for him, and found he had thrown himself down on the ground outside, and was lying there, I thought at first insensible, but he wasn't. I stooped over him and he said, 'I am all right, Mrs. Renshaw, but I was not up to answering questions. In half an hour I shall be myself again, but I own that I feel washed out at present.' I took him out a glass of brandy and water, he drank it and said, 'I feel ashamed at being waited on by you, Mrs. Renshaw, when you must be as tired as I am. Please do not bother any more about me, but if you will ask one of the others to get a native blanket to throw over me to keep off the dew I shall be all right in the morning; but I do not feel as if I could get on my feet again to-night if a fortune depended on it.' Of course I did as he asked me, and I was perfectly stupefied this morning when I heard that he had been up at two o'clock and had gone off with a party of natives to bring you in."

"It was awfully good of him," Wilfrid said, "and he never said a word to me about it. Where is he?" and he looked round. But Mr. Atherton had disappeared.

"Have you seen Mr. Atherton?" they asked Mr. Wylie, as he came out of a large hut that had been given up for the use of the fugitives.

"He has just had a glass of spirits and water – unfortunately we had no tea to offer him – and a piece of bread, and has taken a blanket and has gone off to an empty hut; he said he intended to sleep until to-morrow morning," and indeed it was not until next day that Mr. Atherton again appeared.

Several friendly natives arrived one after another at the village. They brought the news that the Hau-Haus had attacked only the colonists round Matawairo, and that all the rest of the settlers were gathered at Taranganui; but the Hau-Haus were plundering all the deserted houses, and were shooting down all the natives who refused to join them. It was afterwards found indeed that the natives had suffered even more severely than the whites, for while thirty-three of the latter were murdered thirty-seven of the natives were killed. Major Westrupp had left by ship for Napier to obtain assistance, Lieutenant Gascoyne had made his way safely through the Hau-Haus to Taranganui, and had sent a whale-boat out to a schooner that was seen passing down the coast. She at once came into the port, and the women and children were sent off to Napier. The garrison of the fort had been reinforced by the friendly natives under their chief Henare Potare, and were awaiting the expected attack by Te Kooti.

A week later news came that Major Westrupp and Captain Tuke had arrived from Napier with three hundred natives, and that the Hau-Haus had retired with their plunder. The party at Te Mahia at once started for the coast accompanied by some thirty men of the Mahia tribe. A waggon had been procured for the transport of the women and children, and a march of twenty-four miles took them to Taranganui. They found that parties had been out the day before to bury the dead, and had brought in two persons who were supposed to have been murdered. As one of the parties were going along they saw a small poodle dog run into a bush, and recognized it as having belonged to Captain Wilson. They called and whistled to it in vain, and came to the conclusion that someone must be in hiding there. After half an hour's search they discovered little James Wilson with the dog tightly held in his arms; the boy was too frightened to distinguish friend from foe, and was greatly delighted when he recognized one of the party. He told them that his mother was alive, and was lying wounded in an out-house at their place. He had lost his way while trying to reach Taranganui to bring help to her.

Captain Wilson had defended his house with a revolver until the natives brought fire to burn him out. As they offered to spare the lives of all within if they surrendered, Captain Wilson, thinking that there was a possibility of their keeping their word, while those within would certainly be burned if they resisted, surrendered. The prisoners were being led along by their captors, Captain Wilson carrying the little boy, when the natives fell upon them. Captain Wilson was shot through the back, his servant, Morau, tomahawked, and Mrs. Wilson and the other children bayoneted. Captain Wilson, when shot, fell into a bush, and the little boy in the confusion crawled away unnoticed into the scrub. He had wandered about sleeping in out-houses for several nights, often close to the enemy, and at last found his way back to what had been his home, and found the bodies of his father, brothers, and sisters, and on going into an out-house for shelter found his mother alive there.

She had been bayoneted in several places and beaten on the head with the butt of a rifle until they thought her dead. Later in the day she had recovered consciousness and crawled back to the house, where she got some water and then took refuge in the out-house, where two or three days later she was found by her son. She had since been kept alive by eggs and other things the child found by foraging round; but he had at last started to try to get assistance for her.

After hearing the child's story the party had galloped on to Captain Wilson's, and the poor lady had been found and carried to Taranganui. A few days later she was sent down to Napier by ship, but expired shortly after from the effects of her wounds.

In the week that elapsed between the date of the massacre and their return to the settlement Wilfrid had regained his strength wonderfully, and the bracing air of the hills and the excitement of the events through which he passed had acted as a complete restorative. Mr. Atherton too had completely recovered from his fatigue, and, indeed, professed himself to have benefited greatly by them, as he maintained that in three days he had lost as many stone of flesh. The morning after their return to Taranganui they had a long talk about their plans. It was settled that Mrs. Renshaw should at once return home. She was most anxious that Wilfrid should accompany her; but this he would not consent to.

"No, mother," he said; "it is my duty, and everyone's duty, to aid in hunting down these murderous scoundrels. They have massacred a number of people who were very kind to me when I first became ill, and I will do my best to punish them; besides, until Te Kooti's band is destroyed there will be no peace or safety for any of the outlying settlements, and they are just as likely to make an attack on our settlement as any other; indeed, we are the nearest to them, therefore in fighting here I am fighting for the protection of our home."

Mr. Atherton also announced his intention of accompanying the column in pursuit of Te Kooti.

"I dislike fatigue amazingly," he said; "but for several reasons I feel myself bound to see this affair through to the end. In the first place they have attacked me and caused me to undergo great fatigue; in the second, they have murdered a number of my acquaintances; in the third place I have to look after this boy and see that he gets into no mischief; and, lastly, it really seems to me that a month or two of this sort of thing will absolutely reduce me to ordinary dimensions, a thing which I have for years given up even hoping for."

"Well, Wilfrid," Mrs. Renshaw said at last, "I suppose you must have your way. I do think that, as you say, it is the duty of everyone to do all that he can to punish the people who have committed these massacres upon defenceless people, and it is necessary for the safety of the settlement that Te Kooti's band shall be destroyed. It is very hard on us to know that our only son is fighting; but other men as well have to leave perhaps wives and children behind, and if only those without ties were to go the force would be a small one indeed. It is a comfort to me, Mr. Atherton, that you have made up your mind to go too. It sounds selfish of me to say so; but I suppose all mothers are selfish when their sons are concerned."

"I understand your feeling, Mrs. Renshaw, and it is quite natural. I do think that everyone who can carry a musket ought to join in this expedition, and I flatter myself that Wilfrid's rifle and mine are allies not to be despised. Anyhow, Mrs. Renshaw, I promise you that we will not do what are called rash things. We won't try to capture Te Kooti single-handed, and I think that we can be much more useful covering an attack than leading an assault."

Accordingly, two days later Mrs. Renshaw embarked on a coaster for the Mohaka River, and Mr. Atherton and Wilfrid announced to Lieutenant Gascoyne that they would accompany his force as volunteers.

"I am heartily glad to hear it," that officer replied. "I have heard from Wylie of your defence of that pass against the Hau-Haus, and yesterday I had a talk with Sampson, who is getting round now, and he gave me the history of the affair, and from what he says you and Renshaw must have killed at least twenty Hau-Haus, for Sampson admits that he is not much of a shot and had a very small share in the total."

"Yes; we can both shoot indifferently well," Mr. Atherton said carelessly, "and can both be trusted to hit a Maori if we see him within about four hundred yards of us. I fancy that we may be of service to you in keeping down the fire of the enemy if you are attacking a pah. There is nothing cows fellows so much as finding that it is certain death to raise their heads from behind shelter to take aim. Of course we shall be ready generally to obey orders, but that is the special work we join for. You see, Renshaw is but just recovering from illness, and my build unsuits me for violent exertion. So if you want to storm a steep hill you must not count on us being with you except so far as shooting goes."

"Well, I will take you on your own terms," Lieutenant Gascoyne said smiling. "Mrs. Sampson told me yesterday how disinclined you were for violent exertion, and how she had to help you along on that journey to Te Mahia."