"War to the Knife;" or, Tangata Maori by Rolf Boldrewood (100 best novels of all time TXT) 📕

that. As for the danger, do they not share it? So can I. That never put me off anything, I can safely say. I shall write to Mary when I have taken my passage—not before."

So fixed in the resolve to offer up herself on the altar of friendship, duty, and danger delightfully combined was this latter-day damsel, that she went off to London, and, having no parents or near relatives to control her—only a couple of trustees, who, provided she did not spend more than her income, permitted her to do pretty well as she pleased—took her passage to New Zealand by the very next boat, the Arawatta. The said trustees raised their eyebrows when informed of her intention, but consoled themselves, being men of sense and experience, remarking that if young women of independent means and ideas did not do one foolish thing they would be sure to do another, even perhaps less desirable. So, the decisive step being taken, she had only to tell a few friends—Mrs. Merivale, n�e Branksome, being one—and get ready a suitable outfit for the voyage to this Ultima Thule of Maoriland.

Up to this time, though hard knocks, hard fare, and hard marches had convinced Massinger that volunteer soldiering in Northern New Zealand was no child's play, yet, on the whole, the experience had [Pg 287] been less depressing than exciting. The health of the triumvirate was unimpaired. The youth and uniformly good spirits of Massinger had served him well. Mr. Slyde's pessimistic philosophy had much the same effect, apparently, leading him to assert that "nothing mattered one way or another in this infernal country; that all things being as bad as they could be, any change would probably be for the better; that if they were killed in action, as seemed highly probable, it would be perhaps the best and quickest way out of the hopeless muddle into which the Governor, the ministers, the settlers, and the soldiers had got the cursed country. The alternative was, of course, to desert, which, for absurdly conventional reasons, could not be thought of. His advice to Massinger was to marry Erena Mannering and join the Ngapuhi tribe, which, under Waka Nene's sagacious policy, was bound to come out on top. That would be, at any rate, a decided policy, such as no party in the island had sufficient intellect to grasp. He might then give all his support to the King movement, and possibly in course of time be elected Sovereign of Waikato and surrounding states, do the Rajah Brooke business, and found an Anglo-Maori dynasty."

These and similar suggestions, delivered with an air of earnestness, and the slow persuasive tones which marked his ordinary conversation, never failed to produce a chorus of merriment, in effective contrast to the unrelaxing gravity of his expression.

As for Warwick, the war-demon which had possessed his Maori ancestors had temporarily taken up its abode with him, for, as the campaign progressed, [Pg 288] he seemed day by day to be more resolute and unflinching, in action or out of it.

"Seems to me," said Mr. Slyde, as they commenced their march in the discouraging dawn of a dismally damp day, "we're in for a deucedly hot picnic. Colonel been blocked two or three times in his advance; made up his mind to go for this Orakau pah, spite of all odds. Hope he won't start before he's ready. Pluck and obstinacy fine things in their place, but the waiting business pays best with Tangata Maori. Devilish cool hand at the game himself."

"How about our artillery?" asked his friend.

"Not weight enough, fellows say. Guns always beastly bother to transport. See when we get there."

Another scout had just come in with the news that Paterangi had been abandoned, and that Brigadier-General Carey was in force at Awamutu. The Ngati Maniapoto had crossed the Puniu river, and at Orakau one of the chiefs had shouted out, "This is my father's land; here will I fight." Rifle-pits were formed, and a determined stand was resolved upon. Before the position, however, could be strongly fortified, three hundred men of the 40th Regiment had been sent to occupy the rear. At three o'clock next morning a force of seven hundred men, artillery and engineers, the 40th and 60th Regiments, marched past the Kihi-kihi redoubt, picking up a hundred and fifty men from it on the way. The Waikato, the 65th and 3rd Militia, with a hundred men, moved up from Rangi-ohia to the east side. At day-dawn thirteen hundred rank and file had converged upon Orakau, strengthened by a contingent of the Forest [Pg 289] Rangers, among whom were Messrs. Massinger, Slyde, and Warwick, expectant of glory, and by no means uncertain as to taking part in one of the most stubborn engagements they had as yet encountered. The defenders of Orakau numbered under four hundred, inclusive of women and children.

"There goes the big gun from the south-west ridge," said Slyde. "It ought to make the splinters fly. A breach is only a matter of time."

"Yes, but what time?" asked Warwick. "I don't know Rewi, if he hasn't blinded the outer lines with fern-bundles tied with flax. It's wonderful how they will stop a cannon-ball. Yes, I thought so. No making for a breach just yet."

"They can't have any food or water to speak of," said Slyde. "Have to give in if we wait."

"True enough; they're short of water, and have only potatoes and gourds, I hear," said Warwick. "But Maoris can live upon little, and fight upon nothing at all."

"There goes Captain King and the advanced guard," said Slyde.

"Too soon—too soon!" said Warwick. "There's a devilish deep ditch, besides earthworks and timber. Ha! there the Maori speaks. The troops have made a rush; they're driven back. The reinforcement comes up. Another assault. My God! Captain King's down—badly wounded, I know. See, Captain Baker has dismounted, and calls for volunteers. Rangers to the front! Hurrah!"

And like one man, the little band joined the 18th. But though the assault was made with desperate courage, the close fire again forced them [Pg 290] to retire with a heavy loss. No breach had as yet been made, while the fire from behind the earthworks was incessant and accurate.

Seeing that it was not a case for a cheer and a bayonet rush, the general decided to take the place by sap.

"Might have thought of that before," growled Mr. Slyde, "and saved my hat." Here he pointed to a bullet-hole in his headpiece with so rueful a face that his smoke-begrimed comrades burst out laughing. "Are you hit, Warwick?"

"Only a graze," replied he, feeling his right arm, from which the blood had stained his sleeve. "I was afraid the bone was touched. It's all right."

"Here come those Maunga-tautari fellows," said Warwick, pointing to a compact body of natives now appearing on the scene. "Ha! you may fire a volley and dance the war-dance, my fine fellows; you're out of this game. There goes a shell among them. How they scatter! Too late for this play."

So it proved. Within the next twenty-four hours a British reinforcement, four hundred strong, appeared. The sap had been carried on; none could escape. Another day, another night, passed. At length, about noon, an Armstrong gun was carried into the sap, a breach was made, and the siege was virtually over.

On the score of humanity, women and children being in the pah, the garrison was called upon to surrender, with a promise that their lives should be spared.

Now was heard the immortal rejoinder: "Ka whai-whai, tonu—ake—ake—ake!" ("We will fight on to the end—for ever—for ever—for ever!")

[Pg 291]

The interpreter pleaded for the women and children. "Why not send them out?"

The answer came back: "Our women will fight also."

But they commenced to find the rifle-pits untenable. The hand-grenades made terrific slaughter. The rifle-pits had been too hastily formed for safety; but still they fought stubbornly on.

When the assault was made, half of the first troops that entered fell; nor was the second assault more fortunate. Then the enemy's ammunition failed. It was pathetic to note them in their deep despair. Standing amid their dead and dying, the blood-stained warriors sang a mission hymn of old days, and raised their voices—which were plainly heard—in passionate supplication to the Christian's God.

"But there was no voice, nor any that answered." Still pressed nearer, with hail of shot and shell, the resistless pakeha. Once again their mood changed, and they turned to the heathen gods of the children of Maui. Chanting an ancient karakia, or imprecation, they marched forth in a solid column. The women and children, with the high chiefs, were placed in the centre.

An opening had been made in the ranks to enable the heavy gun to open fire. Through this, in the full light of the afternoon sun, the unconquered garrison marched out steadily, as if going to church in the peaceful days of missionary rule. Rewi ordered that no shot should be fired. The scanty ammunition would be all needed for the marsh passage, on the route to the Puniu river.

Like the Moorish monarch giving his last sigh to [Pg 292] the glories of the Alhambra and the snow-crowned Sierras, did Rewi cast a lingering look on his ancestral possessions? Eastward frowned Maunga-tautari, on the flank of the great Waikato plain. Pirongi on the west held watch and ward over the Waipu. Kihi-kihi, his own settlement, was in the hands of the pakeha. But, the Puniu once crossed, there was refuge in the forests of Rangitoto.

The marsh was reached, though many fell before the converging fire of the troops. The cavalry intercepted them at the neck. Many were thus slain; but, in spite of all losses, the main body gained the Puniu river and escaped, after a pursuit lasting over six miles.

Orakau had fallen; of the garrison, nearly one half lay dead around the pah or on the Puniu river trail. How stubborn a fight had they made for three days and two nights against fearful odds, short as they became of food, water, and ammunition! The sap had reached the last ditch. Even then they did not despair. They might die, but would not yield. Maunga-tautari was abandoned. Rewi's warriors were scattered. It was the Maori Flodden; and the crossing of the Puniu was akin to that of the historic river, immortalized in the verse of the Magician of the North—

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