THE FIGHT AT TE-NGUTU-O-TEMANU.

Lyttelton Times, Volume LXV, Issue 7863, 19 May 1886, Page 4 (Supplement)

THE FIGHT AT TE-NGUTU-O-TE-MANU.

"To the memory of the brave dead.” Such is the heading of an account we published elsewhere, telling how a memorial had been erected at Manaia to those who fell in the fight at Te-Ngutu-o-Te-Manu* pah. The strange name musthave puzzled many. A quarter of a century has all but passed away since the fanatic Te Ua strung together the grotesque rites of the Hau Hau superstition. The little spark he lit in his home in the dark forest that fringes the base of beautiful Mount Egmont spread as it were into a roaring flame, A flame, too, that ran like wildfire through the North. A flame that was stamped out in one place only to appear with threefold devouring force in another. A flame that grew on what it fed on—houses, cattle, strong men, defenceless women, helpless babes; a flame that threatened fairly to lick up every outlying settlement that the pakeha had founded, east and west; a flame that in its hunger for white flesh burned up many a staunch dark-skinned friend and ally. For many years the dark cloud of war hung over the North Island, breaking in Waikato only to lower more darkly in Hawke’s Bay or Taranaki. Nearly twenty summers in their turn have slowly stripped the white snow-cloak from the mountain's giant shoulders since that cloud closed down upon the fair rolling park-like lands that spread around Manaia. A pleasant country in very deed is that of .the Waimate plains, which are no plains at all in our sense of the word, but rather undulating prairies, watered by a score of streams that tumble down their sparkling waters, caught from the mists and clouds by Nature’s great condenser, the tall white cone of the dead volcano which towers over all the landscape like some silent, watchful power. Rendered thus fertile a.nd dotted with islands, capes and peninsulas of trees, the selvage of that impenetrable bush through which General Chute hewed his way behind the mountain, there is scarce a fairer spot in all New Zealand. With the thought of it all in mind, and the bright flash of the blue heaving ocean beyond, lighting it up till it seems to smile again, one may well go further still, and say there is scarce a fairer spot in all the world. Yet there, hardly out o* sight of the pretty little town, embayed among the great trees, is a patch of ground stained with the blood of men as brave as any of our British race, and haunted by the memory of a bloody massacre, for it was little less, by suspicions of desertion in the hour of greatest danger; fouled by the celebration of cannibal orgies that can.be but guessed at, for their full horrors are unknown. It was the 7th of September, 1868—a black day even in the dark history of our northern island. At daybreak Colonel M'Donnell sallied forth from the Waihi redoubt with 250 Europeans (Volunteers and Armed Constabulary) and 110 friendly Natives. Von Tempsky, the long-haired, the dashing Prussian, the adventurous traveler in tropical forests, who had carried his life in his hand in Mexico, had sought for gold in California, piloted the British up noisome rivers in Central Africa, scouted and starved for us in Waikato and the East Coast—“ Von,” as the men used to call the daring, chivalrous, gallant soldier of fortune they all loved so well—- “ Von ” was there at the head of a division. Roberts, then a sub-inspector in the Defence Force, now a Colonel, was there, and perchance his strong, self-reliant face, out of which the bold dark eyes look so piercingly, wore a slightly anxious mien. Buck, a fortnight Roberts’ senior, and Hunter the mirthful, with Hastings, another favourite, were among the officers destined never to march along a Native trail again. With the force, too, went Father Roland, the jovial, fearless Catholic priest, whose behaviour in this and other “affairs” made his name known to all the fighting men for that of a hero. Kangihiwinui* ?f , long of limb, and long-headed too, the Native Magistrate whose rule was obeyed round Atenef, KorinitiJ, Ranana|J and Hiruharama§, the villages on the banks of the Wanganui River, acted as commander of the friendly Natives. A month before this M'Donnell had surprised Titokowaru at Te Ngutu-o-te-Manu and burnt the place. Pungarebu, another Maori pah close by, had also been destroyed. But there were other pahs in the outskirts of the bush. Teßua-aruru yras one of these. Its exact position does not appear to have been known to the commander nor to the friendlies; but the design was to get there, to surprise and carry the place by assault, and to return by Te Ngutu, now as they thought a deserted village. For men bred to the warfare of the bush the plan was wholly reckless. It was devoid of even common caution. It is useless, after this space of time, to rake up the question of responsibility, especially when the leader has since received the New Zealand Cross. But to plunge into that labyrinth of giant trees, matted with creepers, hung with supplejacks, studded thick with ferns and an undergrowth impassable, except by the aid of the billhook, cut up and crossed by deep gullies and water-courses at no rare intervals, seems a thing hardly conceivable under the circumstances. There were some narrow Native trails—tracks just broad enough, as a rule, for a man or two on horseback ah the most —but only that to Te Ngutu was properly known. That M'Donnell struck and followed till he judged it time to make off towards Te Rua-aruru, or rather towards where he supposed it lay. His new track soon gave out, and the contingent halted in a puzzle. As yet not an enemy had been seen, and it was now mid-day. The chief of the friendlies, Rangihiwiuui, sent a man up into one of the tall rata trees. Half a mile ahead he saw some smoke. The chief’s advice to M'Donnell was to halt and let his men lie in ambush, meaning to reconnoitre at dark, and make sure of the prey next morning. M'Donnell chose to flounder on. By 2 o’clock the force was still struggling through the bush, the Wanganui Natives in the van. Suddenly voices were heard. Whares were made out through the. screen of trees. The friendlies rushed the place: two or three wild shots, a corpse to each bullet, and the place is empty. There is. a broad, plain track, however, before the contingent. All thoughts of a surprise are *at an end; it is simply a cose of push on and trust to fate. Von Tempsky takes his force forward, the guide and some of the friendlies are out in front, and M'Donnell, thinking Te Ruaaruru close at hand, forms up his men, ready for some sharp fighting. Some 400 or 500 yards further on, more empty wharos stand about the track. In a flash the truth bursts upon M'Donnell and his men! They are in the rear of Te Ngutu, and the pah they thought level with the ground is re-built, and, with another stockade to boot, frowns before them, bristling with the'muzzles of hostile rifles. Little time was left them to digest this grim truth. Before they have a moment to do more than take in the look of the place, the palisade and the little clearing in front of them are dotted with puffs of smoke. Ping! comes a bullet somewhere from the right, and their eyes search in vain for the marksman. Crack! crack! go a couple of rifles in their rear. The sound seems to come from the clouds, and a young Wellington volunteer,falls to the earth with a sharp cry of pain, clutching wildly at the ferns and roots around him. The officers’ brains are in a whirl. The British soldiers’ recipe for like occasions is a cheer, a wild rush, and then “cold steel” at close quarters. But where and what are you to charge, with a tall palisade in front of you, an invisible foe to right and rear, and the bullets dropping as if from out of the sky, clipping away the twigs and wringing forth a wild curse, a helpless scream or the stifled sob of anguish, according to the temperament of those they hit. Von Tempsky chafes

v 'Tie teak of the bird. “‘Better tnown to all the world of New Zealand ue Major Kemp. fAtbcns, jCcricth. ULondon,

like a caged lion at the inaction. Anything is better than staying thus to be shot down without drawing a trigger. “Forward, men, into that creek and take what cover you can !” But the shattering volley which pours upon them in answer to this manosuvre shows that even the deep gully cannot save them. Perched in the tops of lofty rata trees the enemy’s marksmen single out the officers. The hollow butts, too, of the great parasitical vines are loopholed, and each stands a little tower, from which men can be picked off with the greatest ease and safety. M'Donnell and “ Von ” were now separated, and by this time seven of the former’s men had breathed their last. The trap had closed upon them all, and it was plain that they were in desperate straits. The only loophole of escape was to the left. Towards the left therefore M'Donnell ordered a retreat, and so sending his brother to recall Von Tempsky, he and his men, hampered by the wounded on stretchers, began to cut their way through the ferns and supplejacks, the enemies’ fire increasing still, and'galling them to madness. But “Von” and Colonel M'Donnell were never to meet again in this world. The daring, accomplished Prussian had just received his unwelcome orders, and was cheering on his men, when a bullet struck him down. He died without a sound. The command then dlvolved on Buck, and M'Donnell, the captain, delivered his orders to him, and then hurried off to join the retreat of his brother’s division. The pitiable story of that disastrous afternoon, as told in the despatches, and in the publications of the day, contradictory as they are, shows that disgraceful panic and disorganisation seized upon the majority of our men. That there were brilliant instances of valour, none need doubt; but the evidence of showers of letters to the papers soon afterwards proves that, in many, instances, the men would not obey their officers, and, worse than that, left them wounded and disabled to fall into the clutches .of the maddened Hau Haus. As to the'dead—well, a few lines from a Northern paper, to be quoted later on, will give a lurid glimpse of what was probably their fate. The story of M'Donnell’a retreat may he shortly told. Struggling through the forest, his men in despair, and ammunition failing him, Titokowaru’s men swarmed in the rear, and shot down all they could. It was dusk before he reached the edge of the bush, and the Hau Haus there quitted them, knowing better than to cope with them in the open. But they danced a war dance of exultation and defiance, which M'Donnell’a rifles rendered a rather uncomfortable performance. By nine or ten, Waihi redoubt received them. Driblets of men, however, continued to drop in by threes and fours nearly all night long. Nothing could show better the great demoralisation that had seized upon the force. Some 80 men. Natives and'Europeans, had even got in before their commander, and reported the destruction of the expedition, officers, and all except themselves. It must have been a case of . aauve qui pent of the worst description. M'Donnell and his men got away with comparative ease. Not so Von Tempsky’s division. His men had been somewhat scattered among the trees and rough ground, but the news flew like lightning through the force that “ Von was down,” and their spirits fell. Captain Buck held his position, while Sub-Inspector Eoberts went to try and bring in the body of the gallant Prussian. It was hut a few moments, but when Eoberts returned Buck lay dead, with his face to the foe. What became of the noble dead. Heaven alone knows. “VonV’ body was never found. The supreme task of leading the little band of eighty men out of the ambuscade into which they had stumbled now fell on Eoberts' shoulders. In his speech, at Manaia the other day, the Colonel, like a brave man as he is, let not a word escape his lips as to his share in the fight beyond what was barely necessary. Yet, if there is a hero in the story of that terrible defeat, it is be who unveiled .the monument. His coolness and rose with the occasion. At first he exposed himself with the greatest recklessness. A sergeant, seeing him about to throw himself into almost certain death, to give help to some of his men, flung bis arms around bis waist, and kept him back by main force. For a few moments Eoberts stormed at the man ; but the fellow stuck to his point. "I'm right, sir, and you’re wrong,” he said, as the rifle shots rang in their ears. “We are here, arid our lives are in your hands; it is your duty to keep out of dauger.” It is those little touches of heroism that fire a man’s blood when he reads of them. Eoberts saw the justice of the rebuke, kept his head, got his men together, and tried to thread his way out of the trackless tangle of forest, ferns, and creepers. But he had many narrow escapes, and once his carbine was nearly struck from his hands by a shot which hit it. Well might some of those who remember that day be unable to speak at the ceremony last week! For a short time the Hau Haus dogged tbeir steps, and the carnage was dreadful. Lieutenant Hastings and seventeen men fell. It was impossible to prevent them huddling together in groups. Corporal Eussell was shot through the leg. Hastings was mortally wounded and lay groaning. Russell screamed out in his agony for aid to get . away from the Maoris, who wore close upon him. In piteous tones he told of his young wife and children. He spoke to men with the fear of death before them. One stayed by him till the last, but, single handed, could do nothing for both of them, and the last that was seen of poor Eussell was in the hands of the foe, begging to bekilled outright and spared from torture. Eoberts made an incline to the left to join M'Donnell. Dusk closed in, and either that or satiety of bloodshed, or because the Hau Haus kept straight on, probably saved his party from total annihilation. ■ Seeing themselves unmolested, a quiet halt was called. By 2 a.m. the moon would rise and give them a chance of knowing which way to strike. The horrors of that lonely night watch in the heart of the forest surpassed even what they had gone through by day. Worn with hours of marching, spent with excitement, fatigue and hunger, lowered in spirit with sorrow for the loss of their comrades, rest in the softest of down beds would have been a fitful nightmare. The stern reality of it all forbade even brief visits of sleep. Had the corpses of their fallen friends lain stiffening stark and cold among the plumy ferns, with the night dews gathering on their faces, it might have been endured. But there, from the forest behind them, rose the glare of fire and a din of demon music that told only too plainly to those who could interpret its meaning the hideous, unspeakable feast that was going on in the Hau Hau camp. Mad with blood and on fire with savage frenzy, there is little doubt that the living who fell into the hands of Titokowaru’s men that day were mutilated and tortured. The bodies were thrown on the fire and fought for afterwards. The Maori man who snatched none of the unholy food was hooted by the women and children. The blood curdles as the scene of firelight, dancing and devilry rises before the eye. How that little band, crouched there among the supplejacks and ratas in dense darkness, must have shuddered and gnashed their teeth in impotent rage as the bitterness of it entered like - gall and wormwood into their ; very souls! And ‘when the straggling ; moonbeams struggled through.,the thick roof of tree tops and trailing creepers, doubling the ghostliness of the forest, bringing that uncertain light which makes shadows ! and snares and pitfalls, what a march was ' theirs ! The friendly Natives were still : with them—not a man of all who marched 1 from Waihi that morning had been killed ; tjiey knew how to fight in the bush—began to lead the way, A desperate* eerie, cruel,

march. Humanity had to be cast asid&. Wounds .had begun to stiffen, and tjfe. wounded groaned as they were jolted through the uneven flooring of ,the forest,, and the pain racked their limbs. But thecommander had to set his teeth and threaten to brain the first ■ man whogroaned again. Silence and swift .re-, treat meant life to all. Fortunately, the Hau Haus’ thoughts were bent on. their ghastly banqueting. By daybreak, the little force began to see their way clear, and by 8 o’clock were safe in the redoubt once more. Kemp’s men, after holding a tangi all night for their great chief, Hori te Anaua, had started early, and met them on the way—a departure from ceremonial that shows their conduct in the brightest colours. The splendid behaviour of the Friendlies through thatlong day was beyond all praise. J Forty-six men out of the force that started ou the. morning of the 7th were missing. One man wandered back after five days, pis limbs swollen, and his mind unhinged/ from the privation and hardship he had undergone. The loss of officers made old'Crimean heroes recall the fatal day of Ihkerman. Major von Tempsky, Captains Buck and Palmer, Lieutenants Hastings and Hunter, and the unfortunate Eussell, carried away to torture, all left their bones about that little Maori clearing. Lieutenant Eowan was shot through the jkws by a man in a ■ billycock hat. To that man is attached a i singular history, which throws a 1 mysfce- ; rious horror over the whole affair that renders it unequalled in our annals. • All through that day our men were shot down, hut in hardly one solitary instance : was the hand that struck them to be seen. "Maoris? ” said a private on his return to Wellington, when he was asked how many • had been arrayed against them —“I never seed no Maoris, nor no one else neither.” 1 But Eowan saw this man deliberately aiming at him, and soon after fell back with his jaw shattered. For six months he lay 1 helpless, fed on liquids through the hole in his cheek, and still lives, almost unable to make his conversation under- ! ■ stood, in Melbourne. This scoundrel > who shot him, is held by many to have been tbe notorious deserter, Bent, i and to his hand are ascribed the murders of ■ so many of the offi :ers. Now in those days, there was generally nothing to distinguish, an officer from a private, as fair at dress was concerned. No uniforms were worn. 1 Men went into battle clad in a pair of ■ boots, a shawl wrapped round the loins, ■ and -a Crimean shirt. Therefore, it is to Beat’s murderous fire that ■ our loss is put down, for he could recognise them all quite well, i Outside the forest the scene to-day is .that of a beautiful English park. A more peaceful, lovely landscape it is hard to conceive, i But it will be centuries before the remem- ' • brance of what was suffered there can be | wiped away. i Such was the fight at Te Ngutu-c-te- • Manu, and such the retreat through ■ the forest on the night of Sepf. 7,-1868. . May none of those who read , this paper 1 ever pass through thirty hours like those! '