"BAD MIKE."

Auckland Star, Volume LXI, Issue 286, 3 December 1930, Page 20

"BAD MIKE."

(By Helen McVeagh, Ansae Street, Cambridge; age 17.)

He was a rough unscrupulous sailor, who had deserted his ship and had lived for many years amongst the Maoris. All who knew him regarded him as an unprincipled rogue, devoid of any virtue whatsoever, and when he settled down to farming, his neighbours, "Honest" Joe Snell and Jim Dane, determined to have nothing to do with him. "Bad Mike," as he was called, was looked upon by his neighbours' children in much the same light as was an ogre in a fairy story, and they all (especially those of "Honest Joe") were careful of keeping out of his way. It was during that period in New Zealand's history when the terrible deeds done by Tβ Kooti and his Hauhau followers filled the hearts of tie pioneers with horror and fear. Jim Dane and "Honest Joe," having heard that the natives had sacked a small village not far away, were hurriedly conferring as to the best way of escape should the need arise, when "Bad Mike" rushed "into the farmhouse shouting the dreaded news. "Quickly," he panted, "I have seen the Hauhaus creeping through the bush in the valley not half an hour ago. They. are making towards here, so you have no time to lose." Curiously, it was "Bad Mike" who saved the panic which threatened, ordering the women and children to pack provisions, and hastily unfolding his plan of escape to the men. "Go as quickly as possible to the trees on the western, side, where you'll find the horses I brought along with me, and if you keep directly west you'll reach the settlement of Tapu in time to warn them. Get there and you're safe. I'll stay in the house so that they won't suspect anything, so if you huray I should be able to keep them at bay till you are safely away," he explained, tapping his rifle. At first Tom Dane stoutly refused to leave, and would have stayed behind had not "Bad Mike" convinced him that it was his duty towards his wife and children to go. "Honest Joe," on the other hand, was clearly impatient to depart and offered only a half-hearted resistance. It was not long after "Bad Mike" was left alone, that the dreaded cry of "Hauhau!" eoundei at every corner of the house. For some time he kept the natives back, but at length the greater odds told and the man who was an outcast among his fellow beings, smiled as he recalled the last words of one who was somewhat like himself— the hero of his boyhood, Sydney Carton:— ~ ~ . r "It is a far, far better thing that 1 do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to, than I have ever known.