THE STORY OF FIGHT.

Hawera & Normanby Star, Volume LXXIV, Issue LXXIV, 26 April 1918, Page 6

THE STORY OF FIGHT.

(By F. B. Forester, author of "The Fugitives.")

[Specially written for the Star.] "Well, if you are bent upon going, I suppose there is no help, for it," sighed, my mother. "But, oh! Jack, must Dick go toor" . "Oh, I say, Mother," I was beginning—— But Dad took me up short. "He can go, or stay, as he pleases," my father rejoined quietly. "Whichever way he chooses, he'll get no blame from me." But I thought it was time to chip in for myself now. "I'm coming with you, Dad," I declared resolutely. "If Mother and the kiddies had no one, it would be a different thing, but they're as safe as houses here." "Right, o," was all my father said; in answer; but I knew well enough, by the glint in his eye, that my choice had pleased him. Mother said very little, either. Women in those days understood that their men would never have been content to remain out of things; and, contradictory though it may sound, I knew that, despite her anxiety, she would have been bitterly disappointed in me had I elected to remain with her in peace and safety instead of going with my father. It was just a week since we, that is to say Mother, the two kiddies, and myself, had left Waihi Redoubt, where we had arrived, fugitives, after a hurried flight through the bush, the remembrance of which for a long time came back to me afterwards in my dreams. There, to his unspeakable relief, my father had found us; and, three days later, we had gone, like other fugitives, to Hawera, where we had remained ever since. But inaction, in those times, was galling to every

settler; and two or three of the men, unable to remain longer in the town, in face of the rumors ever coming through, had determined to make their way back to Waihi, find out how things &tood there, and what prospect there might be of returning to the abandoned homesteads and getting the etock away. "It' 6 just this, boys," declared one of the settlers, who, now that his wife and children were in safety, was a different man, daring even to recklessness. "I reckon it's as good as giving the Maoris best to quit as we've done, and just let 'em walk in over us to burn our places down and spear the cattle as they like. None of us came out from the Old Country to play that sort of game, I reckon. So, for one, I'm going after my stock; and if no other fellow chooses to come along,

why, I'll go on my own that's all." "I'm with you," Dad said quietly; and another fellow, a young chap fresh from Home, who had tried his level beat to get into the A.C.'s, and had been rejected on the score of ill-health, chipped in with an eager "Count me in, too." So the matter was settled. It was coon after daybreak when we left the town, the cool, fresh dawn of a morning in the New Zealand spring. There were four of us, each armed with rifle and revolver and riding a good horse. Mine was old Diamond, who had carried my mother and the kiddies so well during that hurried flightthrough the bush; and I remember how some of the excitement I felt seemed to have communicated itself to him, for he snorted and pranced under me like a two-year-old. Ah, well, things have changed since the days of which I write. There is one place, not very far from Hawera, which I neyer pass'without having the

contrast "between then and now

brought forcibly home to we. By a series of long curving slopes, the road —a magnificent one, as the Taranaki roads mostly are — dips: down to the Waingongoro river, and to come down there in a car makes one think of the flight of a swallow, so smooth and so perfect is the going. Just beyond the bridge on. one side is the power-house, supplying the electric light to the country round; and, scarcely a stone's throw away, on the other side, are plainly to t>e seen the ruins of an old Maori redoubt. 'Cattle have trodden in the trenches now, and the earthworks themselves are grass-grown; but the old outlines are distinctly visible still, and the contrast is only one

among scores in the cpuntry round. Waihi Redoubt! Now Waihi beach, not far distant, is a pleasure resort, where one can bathe and fish to the heart's content all day long. But when I hear the name, back to my memory comes the thought of that stockade, rising stark and grim there on the outskirts of the bush, the look-out tower at one end, and the stockade itself topped by a line of rifle barrels, above which appeared the stern, resolute faces of the defenders. Now, to alter slightly certain well-known lines: "No loopholes now are framing Lean faces, grim and brown, No rifles now are aiming To shoot the rebels down." But that was Waihi as I knew it, in the days which went before the fight of Te Ngutu-o-te-Manu, the "Beak of the Bird," which is the meaning of the Maori name.

Things wore a different aspect there from that which we had anticipated; and one thing at least was certain, the notion of getting the stock away

would have to be let go for the present

That the enemy, although unseen, was . none the less keenly on the alert, was certain, for, only a day or two lief ore, one of the soldiers, having strayed incautiously too far from the redoubt, had been surprised and killed. Naturally enough, this drove the rest of the men in garrison well-nigh mad; and I, to my secret joy, saw that a fight with the Maoris was a thing that might take place any day now. As a matter of course, Dad and Phil Curtis made up their minds to stay on and see it through, and tbe next thing I heard was —of course, knowing them, I wasn't surprised—that both of them were bent on going out with the soldiers. There were many settlers in those days who went out and fought with the Regulars and the Armed Constabulary for the sake of law and order, as the different monuments in the country round testify plainly enough. So, a few days later, the attacking force set out, the intention being to lush the pa. of the Bird's Beak, taking it in tbe nnr. Barely a month earlier an attack had been made on

the pa under heavy fire, and on this occasion the Maoris had shown a clean pair of heels. Tho officer in command was Colonel McDonnell, and among

those serving under him were .Major Hunter, Captain i'almcr. Lieutenants Hastings and Hunter, and the one

with whom, .as most of you know well, the action at Bird's Bcnk is always most intimately associated, Major yon Tempsky. In fact, the monument down at Ne Ngutu is known as tb*> yon Tempsky monument through all the country round.

I suppose it is always the case that in, every action and incident there is invariably one figure standing out among all the rp'«*t, round whom the interest of any event seems to centre and gather. That man in this case, was Gustavus yon Torrpsky, "Wawahi-waka" or "Manu Ran," as the Maoris called him, the one name meaning "Splitter of Canoes," the other "Hundred Buds." No wonder, either for few men have i lived a life of such incident and stir-1 ring adventure aa he, the noble Pole, as

he has been called. And I suppose— j although as regards the actual condi- I tions under which he came to his death S there was much to choose —yet that in itself the death of a soldier, and to die in harness - was the one that he would have preferred to any other, after all. I remember him, as I saw him going out with his men that day, his black hair grizzled now, his uniform a nondescript one, slightly different from the dashing figure of a soldier he must have been in his youth, but with none of the i old ardour quenched, and the light of j battle shining in his eyes. And we, in the redoubt —well, you boys can guess well enough, that I would have j given all I was worth—not very much then, it is true —to have gone out with i the soldiers then. But on this point | Dad was firm, and there was nothing for it but to obey orders, and remain within the stockade. I suppose the story of that fight is well enough known to most, so that it will be nothing new that I have to tell. Yet there may be some among my readers, the younger ones, to whom the incidents may be less familiar, and it is for these I am telling it once more. So that day began, with its long, drawn-out hours of waiting, to change ere long into a time of the sharpest suspense. It was early dawn when the attacking party set out from Waihi, a strong force" of over two hundred whites, without counting about a hundred Kupapas or friendly Maoris led by Major Kemp, as he was called (Kepa te Rangihiwinui); and the rescue parties returned with those that were left at : daybreak next morning For there was no action in the war that was sharper . than the battle fought at Te Ngutu, , and few more disastrous.

So the day dragged on, and then, as,' far away in the distance, the sharp, short sound of intermittent firing cam* to the ears of the defenders in the redoubt, somehow —how, I never clearly knew —there got about the rumor that something was amiss, that all had not gone well with our men. On and on dragged the hours, till night was drawing on. Then tho fugitives, a mixed band of Regulars, A.C.'s and settlers, who had in some way contrived to stand together and evade their bloodthirsty pursuers during that terrible retreat, came in with tidings that only added to the dismay. You ha*^ heard of the famous Major Kemp, who led the Kupapas, or Government Maoris; well, it was he and his band who went out from Waihi and brought in the gallant young Constabulary officer Captain Roberts, with his wounded, when they were almost desperate. It,was a gallant vie tion. but in truth, the many heroic rescues made during that terrible retreat go far to brighten the grim story of the disaster.

Dad told me about it afterwards; for at first, so contradictory were the reports brought in, so wild the rumors goabout, and so terrible the excitement, that I could get nothing clear. There had been a disaster, a defeat so much at least was 'known, but the full extent of that disaster was unsuspected at the time. "We were crowded up and bewildered," Dad told me. "None of us knew how many or how few of the Maoris there were, and we reckoned ourselves outnumbered firDm the jump. The majors wanted to rush the stockade, but orders were against that, and the order to retreat came instead. It was then, when he was collecting hie men that yon Tempsky went down. I never saw him afterwards. We picked up the chaps who'd got plugged, and started to retreat, fighting every step of the way. The Maoris were in full chase after us; for the order had gone out "Patua, kainga (kill them, eat them) and there was no mistaking that." "Where's Phil Curtis?' I demanded wildly, and Dad shook his head. "God knows, I don't. I never saw him after he went down." He was right, for of the gallant pakehas wbo fell in that action nothing more was ever seen. Those who know say that ihe Maoiis elected a huge funeral pile, upon- which they threw the bodies of the slain whites, and burned them to ashes. I have heard other, and darker, whispers; but it is possible that prejudice may have prompted these, and I could not name them here. It is only the other day that I was at Te Ngutu, revisiting it again after many a year. A magnificent bridge •spans the Kapuni river, and crossing tins by an easy curve, I found myself at the scene of the Bird's Beak fight once more. The first thing to catch my notice was a fine tennis court laid, out, for the Domain of Te Ngutu-00-te-Manu includes the scene of the old fight. Leaving my horse in the sheltered spot used as a paddock, I passed the caretaker's house, and beyond, straight in front of me, was the monument. It stands in an open space where the 1 grass grows thick and green, and behind it, and all around, are trees; m fact, there is .till roman_in<s a considerable part of the old bush, A cross surmounts a granite column, and on the latter, in bold type, is a scroll of names, those of the officers and men who fell there. To the left, passing through a small gate, you stand on the edge of the swampy ground, scarcely altered throughout all these years, over which, as one of those who took part in the fight has told me, the Maoris came up to take the whites in the rear. Trees, as I have said, flank the open space, m the centre of which stands the cross; but for the most part they have been planted of late years, and a very small number of these belong to the old bush. But there is one among them, a whitewood, mossy and lichen grown and split with age and weather, and this tree has been pointed out to me as th e one from behind which yon Tempsky was shot. I cannot tell if this is true. But this I do know, that the density of the bush concealed the true numbers of the enemy; and, but for this the result might have been widely different, and the defeat a victory. For you must remember that this beautiful and peaceful country, where the dairy herds are feeding, where motor cars and lorries run so easily and swiftly now, was, in those days, only aa expanse of dense and trackless forest, through which it was all but impossible to force the way. I mounted my horse, and went on towards Hawera. It was a silent ride, for every step of the way brought back memories. To me that spot, Te Ngutu, is full of tragedy, and I can never forget what happened there. And along the line of that terrible retreat, from that fateful spot to the Waingongoro river, where h e fugitives at last made a stand. I seem still to see the grim, resolute faces of the hunted men, hard pressed, but -undaunted still, carrying their Wounded with them, forcing their way through that well nigh impassable bush. Strange it is to look across this peaceful, happy countryside, dotted with quiet homes and prosperous farms, and to think uf the coiitras:, within so comparatively short a time. Yet, probably, even concerning the grim war going on now at the other side of the world, it may be that in days to come, fifty yoars hence, our rhd dren's children may stand on the battlefields of Verdun and the Marne; and, looking round at a similar scene of peace and beauty, may wonder at the grim and ghastly history of these present days, which have come to them across the sea of time, as you, listening now, may wonder at what I have tried to tell you concerning this story of a fight. But it is a fight the memory of which must remain immortal, for even the roads in the neighborhood of Te Ngutu the Tempsky, the Hunter, and the Fa]- ■• mer roads —bear the names of the gallant dead.