HOW VON TEMPSKY DIED.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXX, Issue 9157, 25 March 1893, Page 9 (Supplement)

HOW VON TEMPSKY DIED.

[BY C. 0. MONTROSE.]

All along tiio west coast of the North Island of Now Zealand Von Tempsky is a name to conjure with. General Pratt is a traditional myth, only remembered by decrepib greybeards, who have long since gone into the world's lumber room. General Cameron Hits through a few musty pages of history, which no one ever reads in those days, except industrious and aspiring politicians who pore over Blue Books and obscure literature to forgo wordy weapons against the other side. Even General Chute and his famous "mountain march" excite no admiration among the new generation of bushwhackers. The giants of the forest have fallen before the bushman's axe ; the grass land has gradually crept like a conquering wave far inland from the coast; sleek, mild-eyed cattle graze in luxuriant paddocks hard by the spot where Chute's ragged army, reduced by diro necessity, greedily devoured their pack horses. Gazing across the broad expanse of green, dotted with the recumbent forms of cattle and sheep, half hidden in the long grass, young New Zealand listens to stories of the military achievements of the last generation with mixed feelings of incredulity and pitiful tolerance. He feels that his manhood demands that he should humour the old boys a little, and because the privilege of " blowing" belongs to all old colonists.

But Von Tempsky, though dead and gone, is still a living ideal, tho type of a colonial hero. His name has come down to tho present generation surrounded with a halo of mysterious heroism. Ho is tho Robin Hood of Maorilaud, coloured by the new environment and atmosphere of the antipodes. In the mind of the young Now Zoalander tho ideal Von Tempsky is a strange confusion of 'Dick Turpin, .Ned Kelly, and tho American scalp hunter of the sixpenny novel. But his chief claim on young Maori lander's admiration is his adventurous daring. There was nothing prosaic and commonplace about Von Tempsky. Ho was a bushman, and something of a bushranger cf the highest type, the embodiment) of the ideal colonial warrior. So ; whenever the name of Von Tempsky is mentioned on the West Coast, from Wanganui to Now Plymouth, it is received with veneration.

Tho .accounts of his death aro many and various. Ilia biographers have killed him in every way that human ingenuity and imagination could suggest. lie has boon shot from a tree by a Maori, slain by Kimball Bent with a bullet fired through a loophole in a hollow tree; left for dead, tortured, rousted, and eaten by the Maoris. Mr. Gudgeon has given one version of the hero's fall, and Tom Bracken has sung his requiem in glowing verse. Yet, if there is any truth in tho evidence of actual eyewitnesses of Von Tempsky's death, all the accounts I have hitherto road or heard are grossly incorroct. For many years I had been vainly seeking for some trustworthy person who could toll me how Von Tempsky died. I had Been the guerilla chief on several occasions in the Waikato, at the Queen's Redoubt, Waiari, To Awamutu, and Orakau, and his presence was always surrounded with a certain fascination, partly owing to his singular appearance and romantic antecedents, and partly to the distinct personality of the man himself. When tho Maoris at Waiari took cover in a thicket clump of teatree, and the Rangers were ordered up from To Rore to dislodge them, they came on at tho double, and disappeared in the thicket, out of which soon sounded the sharp crack of the revolver, yells, shouts of defiance, and victorious cheers. Some of the Rangers said it was like rat-hunting; and when they emerged from the smoke and flame Von Tempsky marched at their head, with a panther-like stride, his right hand grasping a gory bowie-knife; his sharp-featured, resolute face wearing a slight flush of triumph ; tho long black ringlets falling in profusion upon his shoulders; his tunic, partly open, exposing his bronzed breast; loose trousers, leggings, and strong lace-up boots completing his unique tout ensemble. But in the active, springy stride, in tho keen bold eyes, and the jaunty cock of the small forage cap one saw the gladiator, the born fighter, who could cope with the Maori in his own fastnesses, and beat him at his own tactics.

Knowing the risks that ho so often ran, his death did nob surprise rac. Many times in it lifetime a man may run tho gauntlet, bub no man bears a charmed life. There are do miracles on modern battlefields. Maritana does nob cheat tho enemy by secretly removing the bullets from his rifles. There are so many Don Crews and so few Maritanas in these days of compulsory service. No ono could once see Von Tempsky in his fighting trim without somehow feeling 1 that ho was doomed to die a soldier's death. Such men as lie mostly end their lives tragically. Nurtured in the storm and stress of life, they are doomed to die in it. There are hundreds of men whom one meets in a lifetime of whom you feci a presentiment that their deaths will nob be as other men's. As "Von" moved lithely among our men, old campaigners of Afghanistan, Africa, the Crimea, and India, with the instinct of kindred souls, know inwardly that his was nob to be a long life, though they kept their thoughts to themselves. It was by the merest good luck that, tho other day in the Waikato, while in conversation with Lieutenant Rigg, of the Te Awamutu Cavalry, I came upon the eluo of which I had so long been in search. Round about Kihikihi and Rangiaohia are settled several of Von Tempsky's Rangers, and especially two, named Rysedalo and 8011, who were with him at Ngutu-o-te-manu, where lie fell.

Mounted on a nearly thoroughbred polo, pony, and guided by tho lieutenant, I pay a flying visit to tho old battleground at Orakau, where I can just trace the faint outlines of tho flying sap, and tho enemy's pa now o smooth grass paddock, where cattle graze contentedly and the lark carols aloft in the glorious sunshine. Lingering awhile on this historic scene, and contrasting its present serenity with the din and destruction of that March day of ISO I, wo turn our horses in the direction of Storey's farm, towards Te Awamutu. In tho brown paddock tho heavy rains have worn little rills, and washed big gaps in the young sprouting crop. Rysedalo is at work with the seed-sowor replanting these vacant places. Ib is necessary to approach him strageticnlly. You cannot take the old Forest Hanger with a rush. So we call at tho woolshed and reconnoitre. " You won't get anything out of him," says young Storey, with a grin.

Well, nil dtxperandum. Wo walk our horses over the ploughed land, and there, away in the hollow, is a moving group, partly enveloped in a little cloud of dust. Lieutenant Rigg bakes up a position intercepting tho lino of advance of the party, and soon tho team comes to a halt. The well-knit figure on the seed-sower with the weather beaten resolute face and the touch of devil-may-care is Rysedale. Ho comes from Lincolnshire, from among tho fens, and, despite his colonial experience, there is still a touch of the quaint accent in his pronunciation. Tho lieutenant opens tire with a trial .--hob. " Didn't ho servo in tho Forest Rangers with Von Tempsky V" No; he had never served in any blanky Rangers, not he.

We have ridden twenty miles, and are on tho wrong truck. All ab once this man whom I bad pictured as a hero, standing with graceful case on the seed-sower, ami gently flicking his whip, lias sunk down to the level of a more commonplace labourer. " Story? God bless you, ho lias none to tell." Wo have been cruelly hoaxed, sent many miles out of our way on a hot afternoon to see an ordinary (arm hand standing on a well-worn need-sower.

Lieutentant Rigg and 1 exchange puzzled glances. But there is something in the man's air, half of whimsical amusement at our evident discomfiture, and partly a sorb of dogged objection to be too easily drawn out, that I feel emboldened to try him with another question. " What corps did you sorve in ?" " Why, I served in tho Armed Constabulary." " Under whose command?" " Under Inspector Von Tompaky in No. 5 Division."

Of course. How stupid we were not to have thoughtib before ! Suddenly it flashes through my memory that the late Sir Donald McLean, with the aid of St. John Brannigan, " demilitarised" the colonial forces, reorganising them into Armed Constabulary on the model of the Irish force. Ib was as members of this soldier-police that Von Tempsky and the remnant of his Rangers attacked To Ngubn-o-te-manu.

You were at Ngutu-o-to-manu ?" I ask again. " I was, and good cause I have to remember it."

" Will you tell mo something about it?"

" This gentleman was a friend of Von Tempsky's," diplomatically interjects the lieutenant; "ho fought beside him in the Waikato, and is anxious to hear a true account of his death."

Rysedale regards mo with some interest, and his keen blue eyes seem to bo taking my measure. " You were with him when ho fell?" continues Rigg.

" About as near as I am to you," with a swift measuring glance. _ " About fifteen feet or so," whispers the lieutenant.

" Will you tell mo the story of Ngutu-o-te-raauu ? Is it anything like what one reads in the books ?"

" No !" (contemptuously) " nob a bit. There was a chap as come here selling a book for two guineas, I think it was, and I bought one just to see what it was like. When I looked at it I found it full of tho damnedest nonsense, so I put it away, and haven't seen it since."

" Ib is said Von Tempsky was shot from a tree. Is that true?"

" Rubbish 1 I ought to know ; and there's Bell over there. Don't take my word for it, bub go and see him. D'ye think the Maoris were such fools as to geb into a tree to be shot liko pigeons? Did you ever see 'em do that ?" Well, no; but please tell us how it happened." He settles his feet firmly apart on the seed-sower, pauses a minute, flicks Jus whip lightly, and, looking away into the distance, tolls his graphic story in rough, unpolished Anglo-Saxon, interspersed and fortified with an occasional strong adjective. " Well, it isn't much. We made our way through thick bush, No. 5 Division of the Armed Constabulary, not Forest Rangers, under Inspector Von Tempsky. The guide was a Maori woman, and every now and then she'd be asked, 'How far is the pa V and she'd answer, ' Oh, long way yet; 'bout one mile.' lb was always about a mile. 'It was nob quite a mile,' the old devil said, when wo suddenly came upon a clearing, and saw the pallisades of a pa through tho trees. I never saw that old woman afterwards, and I don't know what became on her ; bub she led us into a trap, and no mistake. The pa was on a rising ground, eloping upwards from a shallow gully in our front, about like that" (holding his whip at an angle of about 35 degrees). "Von Tempsky called out to us to get under cover, and wo popped down in the gully. I suppose the Maoris expected we were coming on with a rush, and were reserving their fire ; but whan they saw us flop down they opened up a hot fire. My word ! it was a caution. After a while Colonel —— came up with his kupapas, and Von Tempsky asked his permission to rush the pa. Ho had beon walking up and down the line, up to this time, checking his men for nob keeping under covor, but all the time exposing himself. You could see he wanted to rush tho pa: That was always his way, you know. But tho colonel wouldn't let him. He said, ' No, you keep your men under cover, and I'll go round to their side and attack the pa.' Then he wont away with his hupapas, all jabbering and twisting about, and I never see'd no more on 'em. Bub the fire from the pa gob bobber and bobber, until it was a scorcher. All this time Von kept going up and down the line, going from tree to tree, waiting for the signal from the other side, which never came. Ho stopped every now and then and looked at the pallisades, and you could soo that he was tired of waiting, but bo couldn't move against the orders of his superior officer. 'Pass the word for Colonel ,' he says; and the word was passed along, but there was no sign of him. Now and then Von's pace quickened, and he looked towards the pa and then towards his right as if he was seeking something, and all this time our men were being knocked over, until nearly half the company were down.

" Towards the right of the little hollow in which we were lying thoro was un opening in tho trees, where the timber was not so thick, and through this you could see the pa very clear. There was a hot fire from this place, and whenever Von Tempsky caino to ib ho used to keep two or three big trees in lino between him and the enemy, slipping from one tree to the other very smart, Ha was walking very slowly, his sword resting across his left arm ; ho seemed to bo thinking; bub he made a mistake, and passed in front of oue of tho trees instead of behind, and a bullet struck him just here (in the centre of the breast), and lie fell dead."

" Did he writhe or struggle after he fell?"

"Nob a move. He laid' quite still. Ho was as dead as a man can ever be."

" That effectually disposes of the story that he was merely wounded, and tortured to death by the enemy," I remark to the lieutenant.

" Who says he was tortured? It's a lie I" continues Rysedale, smacking his whip a little more viciously by way of emphasis. " I say ho was stone dead. Ask Bell. Don't take ray bare word for it. Well, a little while after up comes another officer with two swords under his arm and "two watches in his hand, and yells out, ' Retire, men ; retire to tho rear !' ' Which is the roar ?' I asks ; ' I don't know where it is.' 'No more do I,' says he; ' but get out that way' (pointing away from tho pa) 'as fast as you can.' We passes the word along and get up to retire, when I sees the Maoris sneaking out of the pa, round tho sides of tho clearing into the bush, intending to get in our rear and cut us off. ' There they are, the !' I says j ' I ain't had a fair shot at 'am to-day, but I'm going to have ono now, if I die for it,' and then we got away through tho thiol; bush. When we had got some distance w< slopped to listen, but there wore no sounds of pursuit. The officer who had taken command told us to lie down, as it was getting dark, but not to speak a word, or to smoke. Wasn't likoly that a lob of men as had been without tucker all day wouldn't smoke? Bah! Of couro, wo got back to camp next day, and there wo found the others all nice and comfortable. That's how it was. But Von Tempsky wasn't killed out of a tree. The pa, as I told you before, was on a slopo like tins, and the bullets camo down through tho trees at an angle. It was this that made some people believe that the Maoris were in tho forks of the trees. Well, I hadn't any more on ib after that. Tlioy wanted to make out that wo were liable to servo for a longer term, and to put. another officer in command of us ; but we showed that we had only agreed with Von Tempsky to follow him wherever ho might lead us, and wo walked away and left thorn to finish it by themselves. But I say, mister, haven't 1 seen you before? Hadn't you something to do with the newspapers ?" We plead guilty to the soft impeachment, exchange a few recollections of old times, and, with a hearty grasp of hands, bid each other farewell.

Two thoughts have been running in my mind while tho narrative was in progress. Tho lirsb is an imaginary contrast) between this man, standing on tho seed-sower in tho calm of a summer afternoon in that peaceful scene, and the same man ab Ngutu-o-fce-manu, lying down amidst a storm of bullets, within a few yards of his intrepid leader. And then, in our fancy, wo soo that heroic chief, pacing impatiently in front of tho pa,, waiting anxiously for a signal that never came, unable to advance or retire: conscious, perhaps, that his hour had come ; but still filled with inward sorrow for the sacrifice of his bravo followers. Who shall say what emotions passed rapidly through tho mind of chat " fated chieftain" as ho measured his own last resting placo, walking undaunted amidst the enemy's liro? But thus fell Von Tempsky, whose name s one to conjure with all along the West Coast, whoso brave deeds are still recounted

in the long evenings by the camp fire, and will live in history long after every landmark and sign of the old battlefields have been obliterated by the destroying hand of time or the advancing tide of settlement and civilisation.