A FIGHT TO A FINISH.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1687, 29 June 1904, Page 7

A FIGHT TO A FINISH.

A STORY OF THE MAORI WAR.

BY OWEN HALL.

[All Rights Reserved.]

General Carey looked afc I>iek inquir“ln what way do you mean, Captain Leslie?” he asked. “At Hangiriri they didn’t try to defend the outer palisade at all. I think they will here, for they command every foot of the slope for two hundred yards at any rate with their guns; owing to the way the ground lay they couldn’t do that at Hangiriri.” ' The general turned without a word and examined the ground between us and the pah through his glass. “Yes,” he said, slowly, at last; “I see. No doubt you are right there, Captain Leslie; we shall have to take advantage of the darkness.” He turned away and left us. “That’ll do something, Jack,” Dick said to me, “but I’m not sure that it’ll do so much for us as he thinks.” The cannonade lasted till dark, and began again at daybreak next morning. As the second day went on it was evident we were making progress. Little

by little our shots had worn away the palisading till there was a wide gap. Here and there a shattered-looking post still stood up defiantly by itself, battered and worn away by the shots that had splintered large pieces out of it, but on the whole the way for at least twenty feet wide was open. Tie guns pounded away till nightfall without stepping, and even then they seemed to leave off reluctantly. The wind had grown colder * and everywhere bright fires had (been lighted, round which both men and officers sat or stood in little groups to keep themselves warm.

Dick and I were eating our supper beside a big blaze our men had kindled when the Artillery captain came up and stood beside us warming his hands. “'Well,” he said at last, with a half laugh, “we’ve had a pretty long day of it; ycu fellows were right after all, and it would have served me right to lose my fiver, if you had taken me up. I’m hanged if ever I saw a tougher style of timber than that. All’s well that ends well, however. Our job’s done; now it’s your turn.'” ‘Have you heard anything?” I asked eagerly. “When is the attack to be made, do you know?” “Can’t say for that, I’m sure,” he answered with a drawl. “All I know is that Major Raymond of the staff told me just now to have everything in. readiness in case the guns might be wanted to-night.”

Dick glanced at me. “He’s going to try the night attack, you see, Jack,” he said. “I’m afraid he’ll be disappointed; though.” “But what could he do, Dick?” I said. ‘We must take it somehow.”

“I don’t know, Jack, but I think he’ll have to run trenches up to the pah first, it will cost too much to rush it. How’s the breach on the other side, do you know?” he added, looking at the Artillery officer again. “About the same as this, they tell me, only the hill’s steeper. I fancy you fellows are better off here.”

An hour later Dick was sent for by the general, and I waited anxiously for him to come hack that I might hear the news. I knew we shouldn’t be in the storming party, as the regulars Were certain to claim that, but I hoped we should get a chance to do something. He came at last, and as I looked at his face by the firelight I thought he looked quieter and a little sterner than usual.

“Well, Dick,’’ I asked, “what is our share to be this time?’’

“The same as before, Jack.”

“Oh. that’s all right, Dick, it’s as good as we could have expected, you know. I thought by your face that we were left out of the fun altogether.” “I don’t know so much about the fun, Jack. I’ve a notion it will turn out badly; I only hope I’m wrong.” I-confess I didn’t like that. In the old Forest Ranger days we always believed in Dick’s luck, and since then we had been lucky too. It was something new for him to look sober when something had to be done. It didn’t make any difference in his way of getting everything ready, however. Twelve o’clock, he had said was the hour fixed and at a quarter to twelve every man of ours was ready and waiting for the word to go.

The- camp-fires had been allowed to die away a little, and we took care not to get between them and the pah as we silently took up our positions for the advance. It was a great deal too dark to see much of the force that was collected for the assault, but I could make out dark bodies of men passing noiselessly and then halting. Our men were to advance on the right flank .of the storming party, about thirty yards behind themj and when they had got .within about fifty yards of the pah to them by opening a heavy fire

on the breach till they got so close as to make that dangerous; then we were to push forward and support them on the flank. We stood and waited breathlessly for the word to advance, which seemed as if it -would never come. I could hardly take my eyes off the dark, irregular fringe of black points that stood up against the dark sky on the top of the ridge, but there was not a sign of life there —could they be asleep? At last the word came. It was pass-

ed along the lines almost in a whisper, and we began to move. Cautiously, silently, without a sound but the rustle of moving men, and the dull whisper of a thousand feet set down at once. Our eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness,, but even now we could only make out dark moving shadows creep-

ing up the slope. Three hundred and fifty yards altogether; and at two hundred and seventy we were to fire. I counted the steps we made, and Dick must have done so too, for as I got to two hundred and seventy I heard the whispering order —“Now, men, come along the line!”

Next moment there was a shout on our left, as the storming party charged at the double up the slope, and the ring of our rifles answered the shout. We fired, loaded and fired again; then we stopped—our men must be almost in the breach.

At that moment there was a flash that ran like a long streamer of lightning along the face of the stockade, and a roar as two hundred guns were discharged together; then another, and another, and yet another, in quick succession, so near and so loud that it drowned the shouts of the supporting battalions as they followed the stormers to the breaoh at a run. We hadn’t lost a moment on our side, for the instant we had stopped firing the word had been given to follow, and both Dick and I leaped to the front, and led the way up the hill. Even now. near as we were, it was not possible to do much more than guess at the position of the breach from the confused noise, in which shouts, yells, cries, and groans seemed to join in one terrible through the rattle and din of tlie guns. We pressed on, nearer and nearer to the black heaving mass that tried to force its way into the gap that yawned darkly before us like a huge grave, and always seemed to melt away before it got there under the withering fire that shot from between tlie posts of the stockade. It was evident we could do nothing. At Dick’s command we had thrown ourselves on the ground, and kept up a fire on the palisade opposite us, trying to judge by the flashes that danced and sparkled like huge fire-flies before iis; but all the time we knew that the chances of hitting anything )but a post were trifling indeed. It seemed like hours, and still it went on. At last I fancied I could see heads in the opening of the breach, but the next moment there was a yell, and they appeared to be driven headlong before a black wave that poured over the gap and hurled itself against the staggering groups of men who now represented the solid battalions that had marched up the slope only a few minutes before. For just one minute the soldiers faced them ; then the Maori warriors rushed over them, crushing them by their mere weight, and hurled them headlong down the slope. They passed us like a whirlwind, and Dick leaped to his feet.

“iS T ow, men,” he shouted—“ Now, -fire on them from behind.”

We did what we could, though, of course, at the risk of shooting our own people, but they were well.commanded. They didn’t go far down the hill before they halted. Then they turned, and with another yell they came back—a black wave of leaping, yelling, savages.

At Dick’s shout we drew closer together ; but after all we were only a thin double line, and not one rifle in three was loaded. “Steady, men! Steady! Fire, and club your rifles.” It was Dick’s voice, cool and collected as ever.

Then the black torrent -broke on us. There was a niinute or two of wild, fierce struggle, and we were hurled backwards. Some of us staggered backwards into the darkness; some .went down and disappeared—and the wave passed on. A minute more and the firing began again from the front palisades. The war party had regained the pah. There was nothing else to he done; the bugles .were sounding a recall. I followed the scattered remnants of my corps down the slope.

CHAPTER XIX.

THE END OF ORAKAU.

Dick had been right once more —hut where was Dick himself ? It was not till I had almost got hack to the place from which we had started that I

fairly asked myself "the question. Till then I tried to persuade myself that each little group of dark figures we came on must have him anmng them,

though after all r knew better than that. I believe in my desperation I would have gone back to look for him, but I had more than enough to do in

gathering our men together in the darkness and confusion.

The attack on our side had been under the direction of the colonel of the Seventieth Regiment, and it was by liis orders that the retreat had been sounded. He had fully intended that the assault should be renewed, but the information he got from the few survivors of the party who had actually reached and tried to scale the breach convinced him that such an attempt would only lead to greater loss of life. The ditch was reported to be deep, and the further bank difficult to climb without ladders, and when they did manage to reach the top the men reported that there was a second ditch and fence within a few yards. The decision was that matters were to bo reported to the general, who had personally commanded the attack on the other side, and that we must wait for daylight before doing anything more.

In the meantime what was to be done about the wounded and missing? That was the question which I insisted on pressing on the colonel, hut I could get no satisfaction. To approach the pali might only too likely mean drawing either the fire or another sally of the Maoris upon us, and he wouldn’t take the risk. I went back to my men more angry than I had ever been in my life before. I pictured Dick lying wounded —perhaps in danger of being murdered by the Natives, while not one of us even tried to help him. It was maddening. More than once that night, as I lay wrapped in my blanket near the fire where Dick and I had sat talking only a few hours before, I had all hut crept away in the darkness to look for him; I think nothing hut the feeling that he would never have forgiven me for

leaving my duty to help him kept me where I was.

Daylight came at last, and my first look was turned to the dark patch of scorched ground that lay between me and the stockade. It was difficult to make out anything m the gray light, and before I could see clearly whether the dark heaps that lay scattered on the slope were men or not, a tall figure stood on the top of the breach ond waved something white; then a voice, like an echo; floated down through the light morning mist:" “Come, white men, come! Take to you the dead and the sick soldiers. The Maori will not hurt you. Come!” I had recognised the voice of Ropata, and I hurried to the tent of the colonel, about a hundred yards farther from the pah than the watch-fires of the Rangers, to report the proposal. In ten minutes more I was at the head of a party, consisting of men of the 70th and my own corps, with such conveniences as we could get for removing the wounded. Our loses had been serious —very heavy, indeed, compared with the number engaged—and our task was a melancholy one. Ropata did more than keep his word. Not a Maori showed himself, even when we came as far as the ditch, and with difficulty lifted both dead and wounded soldiers out of it. The place might have been utterly deserted so far as we could see.

It took us more than an hour to remove those of the wounded who had been unable to creep down the hill—as most of them had done under cover of the darkness—and to carry away the dead, but among them all no Sign of Dick was to be found. It had been with a cold shiver that I had run my eves over the bare black hill side . wliep

I first came dp at the head of the . party, half hoping and half fearing to see kick’s, quiet uniform among the motionless heaps that dotted the slope in every direction. Then it had been „]yith increasing anxiety that I had examined every face that was turned to the light as our party went on with their ghastly work —but it was useless; there was no face like his among them all. I followed the last of the party back to the lines; I reported that Captain Leslie was missing. v The general had been" there when I made my report, looking very grave and stern, I thought. “Captain Leslie?” he said, “that’s a serious loss; but it’s better than if lie , had been killed; he may be all right still, i- You are his lieutenant, are you not? Well, you will take charge, of course, in the meantime. You will muster your men, and send in an. exact report of your losses in last night’s attack.” I went back to my men, fooling that v I was in Dick’s place. I would have given-all X had to have seen him back again, or' even to have known what had become of him.’ I obeyed orders, but long before I could manage to write my report we were hard at work digging trenches. The reverse of last night had taught the general that even by a night attack it was not an easy matter to take the Orakau Pah. The attack on the other front of the stockade had not cost so many lives as ours, but it had freon even, less near a success. The hill was steeper, and when the _ storming party—or what was left of it—had at last struggled its way as far as the ditch, the officers saw at a glance that they hadn’t a chance to get up the bank on the other side without ladders. It was clear that something else must be done if we were not to waste more men than all the defenders inside the pah, and even then, perhaps, not succeed. I remembered that Dick had expected all this the day before, but at any rate I was glad the general saw it now. In less than a minute the first line of stormers had dashed through the gap left by the exploded mine into the ditch of the stockade, and with a 1 shout that was almost a yell had hurled themselves at the breach- —leaping, climbing, clutching Pvt anything that offered any assistance, they swarmed up the torn bank where the jagged points of the shattered palisades were both a help and a hindrance. Then the roar of the firing began on the other side, and even in the darkness I could see where a blacker cloud rose thick and heavy, out of which there darted flashes like lightning from a thunder cloud. “Nearer, men, nearer!” I shouted, and each man of ours, as he discharged his rifle, ran forward to get a tetter position for his next shot, while V the flashes leaped and glittered from between the tall timbers that seemed almost to riod over our heads as we came closer. Of course I can form no very clear idea how long it lasted, but I know that at the time it ,seemed to be for hours. The roar of shouts and yells, mixed with sharp screams and groans, that filled the space between n. the rattling of rifles, and the heavier volleys from inside ‘ the stockade, seemed to go on and on, as if they would never end. I could see nothing but the flashes of light and the dull red glow with which they lighted up the cloud of heavy smoke that hung over the pah, but I could - hear the rush of men through the trenches, and the indescribable noise they made as they struggled their way into the breach. More than once, too, I could hear the fierce war-yells of the charging Maoris inside the stockade, who sometimes appeared to sweep forward as if they would carry all before them, and drive the assailants backward through the opening, and at others fell hack, as if they were being driven farther into the enclosure. We had pushed our way a few steps at a time, till I found myself, almost without warning, slipping down the bank into the ditch. I tried to stop, but finding I couldn’t, let myself go. It wasn’t so deep as it looked, and shouting to my men not to fire on me. I scrambled up the bank till I could touch the timbers of the palisading in front of me. I had almost by instinct drawn my revolver, and in another moment I seemed to see a pair of glittering eyes looking at me between the posts. In an instant I had fired through the opening, and the eyes disappeared. “Come on, men,” I shouted “Come on. and 'fire at them between the posts. There’s room enough to kneel here.” A score of our fellows jumped into the ditch, and in another minute were scrambling Up the bank, and before I had time to think whether I had made a blunder or not they were kneeling and blazing away through the openings. It was all luck, frut I was told afterwards that it was the lucky hit that turned the tables that night. It certainly created something like a panic inside, and the men who had linai* the inside of the embankment and fired on our men, inside as well as outside of the pah, melted awav and left us in possession of our vantage ground. . - ' 'b . . I don’t: think it lasted very long after that —though I could form very little

idea of time that night. The shouting and even the firing, died gradually away, and after a while a voice from the inside shouted through the smoke i “Stop firing, you fellows there. We’ve got possession here, and you’re more likely to shoot some of us than anybody else.” f< i3Tave you riot taken it all ? ’ I shouted in reply. “No such luck.’’ was the answer-—* ffi There’s a thundering great fence and ditch all the way across not far in, but we haven’t done so badly. Can’t your fellows give us a hand with some of our wounded ?”

I knew the voice for that of a captain in the 70th, and I soon found'my way through the breach to his assistance. It was far too dark to see much —and we didn’t dare to show lights, so it was slow and difficult work, but 'we managed it at last, and a strange sort of' armed truce settled down on the place for the night. Our men had nothing to fire at but a fence, and the Maoris had spent most of their ammunition, as we found out afterwards. . My friend the captain was right—we had not done badly, though till daylight we could only guess how matters really stood. None of us rested much, I think, though the Rangers made themselves as comfortable as they could just outside the pah, while the 70fch men held the part of the stockade they had gained. It was barely daylight when we scrambled over the shattered posts into the breach to get a better idea of how things stood inside. It was the same idea as they had at Rangiriri, only on a larger scale. There was the inner fence, more strongly built, and with a ditch and bank, perhaps half as large as the ones outside. It was evidently too strong for us to pull down, as well as too high for us to climb over it, jbut the cannons could soon batter it down, and the brave fellows inside had really no chance. They had made a gallant fight, but it was in vain—there could be nothing before them but surrender. When the general .arrived a few minutes later he was evidently of the same opinion, for he sent the chief interpreter of the forces to summon the Maoris to surrender. I watched the crowd of black heads collected inside the enclosure, while the interpreter was speaking, wondering whether Ropata was among them, and how he felt about it. At last he stopped, and there was dead silence for a minute or two on both , sides. Then suddenly a figure seemed to spring on to the roof of a hut inside the enclosure, and the head and. chest of a man dressed in the cloak of a chief and carrying a gun in his hand appeared above the palisade—it was Ropata himself.

rc Pakehas,” he shouted in his own language, “you have come into the land of the Maori to take it away. You have killed his sons; you have seized his houses; you have destroyed his cultivations. Now you ask us to give ourselves up* as prisoners, and become slaves. Pakehas, yon are many, and we are few; you are strong,®^and the Maori now is weak, and hut a handful; hut the answer of the Maori is 'No!’ W'e will not surrender. We will not become slaves. The Maori will fight, and fight, and fight—4‘or ever, and for ever and for ever.”

The last emphatic words were still ringing out musical and clear—“A-ke, a-ke, ake!” when Ropata disappeared as suddenly as he had come in sight, arid a dozen shots were fired next moment from between the posts of the inner barricade. There was evidently nothing to jbe done but to force the surrender at whatever cost. Within an hour three of our guns had been dragged up the hill, and planted so as to command a spot on the inner palisade and once more the work of battering the stockade was begun. It was a tougher job than it looked, and it was not till nearly dark that we could persuade ourselves that the breach was wide enough to make it certain we could carry it without too heavy a loss —then the bombardment ceased once more.

It was growing dark when the interpreter came forward for the last time to call on the garrison to surrender. Everything had been prepared for the assault, which had indeed been put off more than once to enable the breach to be. made still bigger, and, if possible, to convince the Maoris more clearly of the hopelessness of holding out any longer. It was too dark already to enable me to see clearly between the posts of the inner palisade, but I watched eagerly for the answer to the last appeal, hoping, as every man of us did, I am sure, that they would see how hopeless it was and spare both themselves and us. We waited, but no answer came. Minute after minute passed, and still we waited, till, as wo supposed, they had taken counsel and agreed. At last the general grew impatient. I saw him turn away with an angry gesture, as if he was about to give the order to advance, and yet could hardly bring himself to do it. At that moment there came the sudden ring of the Maori battle yell from the other side of the pah—the side where Dick and I had led the Fortieth men five days before. It rose to a howl that rang . wildly through the gathering darkness, and next moment

there was a sound of scattered firing from the direction or the swamp; Ropata and the remnant of the warriors had charged, and in the gathering dusk had burst their way . through the lines of the Fortieth Regiment, who had been entirely unprepared for such an attempt, and indeed, as we heard afterwards, had supposed when the firing ceased that the pah had surrendered.

We had stood listening, every man of us, from the general to the newest recruit, uncertain wliat it meant; while that wild battle cry rose and swelled, and at last died away; then the meaning of it broke on us at once —Ropata had kept his word. Where it began I had no idea, or who started it nobody could tell, but suddenly tli9 old British admiration for stubborn determination and dauntless bravery took hold of us, and we cheered. Three times that loud hurrah broke from us, and they were cheers not for our victory, jbut for the men who had not known when they were beaten, and had refused to surrender.”

I turned to the general, who was standing near me, and said eagerly—• “Our captain, Captain Leslie, * may be in the huts, sir; may I take a party and look for him?”

The general nodded. “By all means. The Rangers have been in the front throughout; it is only fair they should be there now.’' In two minutes we were ready, and the last forty-eight unwounded men of our corps were the first, to march into the heart of the pah which Ropata had just abandoned. My heart beat with a sickening doubt of what we should find as we came up to the little group of dark huts, and then it leaped up again as I saw that

in the farthest one there was a light. men!” I exclaimed, “till I see what that is. 5 ’ I pulled aside the mat that hung across the entrance, and the light from the fire on the floor shone out into the darkness. As I put my head through the opening there was a low growl, and a weak voice said, "Down, Fincher! Down, hoy! Here are friends at last.*' Weak as it was I would have known Dick’s voice anywhere. " “Thank God!” I exclaimed, "they didn’t kill you after all, Dick.” TO THE READER. The struggle for the possession of oh'o Waikato Valley really ended when the pali at O'raka,u was taken, and its brave defenders were either killed, wounded, or dispersed. There was some fighting still for a time here and there in the district, but never again was there an armed opposition that could be looked on as serious. The tribes were not destroyed, indeed, but they were broken and scattered, and made no important attempt to prevent the settlement of their country by the military force which had been embodied for that puiv pose. The war /between the Maoris ana settlers, however, went on for fcur. years longer. It was taken up by ilia tribes on the east, and afterwards by those on the west coast of the island, and the struggle was both long and severe. In the end the regiments of British troops were withdrawn at the request of the Parliament of the Colony, and the later campaigns were fought and the victory was at last secured entirely by the * settlers with the assistance of their Native allies. . In the campaigns that followed that

in the Waikato country both Dick and Jack had their full Dick though he was wounded at Orakpu' lived to do good sendee afterwards,'and some at least of Jack’s good luck attended him till the end of the war—but it would make this tale too long to tell the story here. If it should turn out that the adventures of Dick and Jack interest the readers enough to make them anxious to learn more of

their fortunes in the years that follow- , ed, if it is possible that Jack may again take up his pen, travel over in memory the long journey of forty years, and try to recall suniS more of his own and his cousin’s adventures when they helped to fight the battle of civilisation in New Zealand long ago. For the ' present lie must say good-bye.