The TE KOOTI TRAIL

Otago Witness, Issue 3830, 9 August 1927, Page 61

The TE KOOTI TRAIL

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Frank H. Bodle.

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SYNOPSIS. CHAPTERS I AND ll—The scene is the great Roman Wall at Northumberland in 1858. Alter the Rev. Horace 'Winslow hag' finished telling the story of the Lost Legion (the Roman army that never returned) to his daughter Alice and Geoffrey and Eric Mantell, Eric, who is a very junior officer of a, hussar regiment, asks Alice to walk with him through the gateway in the Wall, where the Lost Legion had gone. She goes, thus proving her love for Eric, and making Geoffrey, Eric's senior by one year, but his twin in appearance vow vengeance on his brother. Eric and Alice seem to feci that adventure awaits them, and promise to be true to each other until the happiness, which is to crown all, conies to them. That evening at his home, the Manor, Eric is accused by Heyling, the stock bailiff of the place, of appropriating the sum of .£197 from the rent of three tenants. When the money is found in his bag by Geoffrey and Hoyling, his--father, Sir lioslan Mantoll, disowns him, and orders him away for ever. Eric, picking up the notes, stumbles away CHAPTERS 111 and IV.—Eric, reinforced with Alice's promise to be faithful, books a passage to New Zealand, but, falling in with a friendly and lonely Irishman, Barney' O’Halloran, he shares his money, and takes him with him. When they arrive in Auckland they meet Jules Vidoux, a French cook, and the three build a hut and live together. They light in the Waikato campaign, and against the Hauhaus in the Bay of Plenty. CHAPTER V.—PROPHET OF THE CHATHAM.S. As nowadays, cases of infectious disease are isolated to prevent epidemic spread, so, in the beginning of LSfifi, over .300 Hauhau rebels were transported from New Zealand to the Chatham Islands, 360 miles from the mainland. The Hauhau religious cult, which might be described as a grafting of old Maori magic and superstition upon a distortion of the histories and prophecies of the Old Testament and the llook of Revelation, had a powerful appeal to the Maori mind and won many converts, even from natives brought up under mission influences. Its incantations promised immunity from alien bullets; it preached a holy war, with Scriptural ■ backing, against the land-seeking whites, who were crowding into a country that had once been all Maori. It is not possible to obtain any clear conception of the Native point of view in the previous and succeeding campaigns in New Zealand, unless it be recognised that the Maori loved the land of his ancestors with a peculiarly tierce fervour. Every glade, each stream, ami every hillock had for him some epie memory of ancient conflicts or by-gone romance, and this memory was kept ever green by the innumerable tribal songs and stories of a race marvellously responsive to beauty and drama in word and thought. To this passsionate love of the land —though in the white man’s judgment, he made small use of his land —tiie hybrid faith of the Hauhaus made ardent appeal. Therefore, when the Hauhaus were beaten in the East Coast area, the authorities- thought it wise to remove their most prominent and irreconcilable men and their families, in older, so far as possible, to isolate the fanatic faith. Amongst those deported were also some men who, although in arms on the Government side, were accused of treachery. Of these last was a man of 35 years of age, named Rikirangi, whe later assumed the name of Te Kooti Then (and indeed until the day of his death) this man stoutly asserted his innocence of the charges under which h< was arrested, and demanded that h< be brought to trial. This request was noi granted, and the man brooded on whai he felt were his wrongs. As this member of the exile bam played such a notable and notorious par in the early history of New Zealand and must bulk largely in this story, i will be well to learn something of hi early history and his appearance. Ii those days, birth confuted for almos everything amongst the Maoris, yet T Kooti—as it will be best to call himowed nothing to this. He was, in fact a man of humble birth. He received a education in a mission school, and, eve in early life, his dominating characte soon became apparent. He won a notabl reputation for his skill in horsemanshi in the wildest country, and for his abilit on the sea, particularly in the handlin of surf-boats. x He became a suceessfr trader in competition with the white and personally operated a small tradin schooner along the coast between tl present towns of Gisborne and Aucklam His appearance would have attracted a tention in almost any company. He, w; about sft lOin in height, broad across tl shoulders, yet lean and wiry. The dai

eyes, the most arresting features of a striking face, below a plentiful thatch of glossy black hair, were brilliant, keen, and searching; his aquiline nose was index of a dominating character, and the prominent jaws and chin told of a resolute will.

In a mood of back fury then, this man disembarked with the other exiles in picturesque Waitangi Bay, on Wharekauri, the largest of the Chatham Islands. To his dying days, 27 years later, Te Kooti alleged that his exile was due to jealousy of his too-successful trading, and the fact that the. charge against him was never tried embittered his whole outlook. Mis bitter musings of the outward voyage took definite form as he landed from the surf boat upon this alien shore. As his feet touched the rockv beach he swore that lie would exact the full vengeance, the utu, that had been the custom of his immemorial ancestry.

The exiles built homes, and settled down quietly to cultivate the fertile soil. They built a meeting house, and there Performed their queer, vet comforting, ritual of many chants. And all the while Te Kooti, a man apart, brooded sullenly over the vengeance that, some day, ho would take. Cut off from their friends and their deeply-loved haunts by an hundred leagues of turbulent ocean most of the exiles were desperately unhappy, but thev were of good behaviour, so that the armed English guard of two officers and 25 men was, in a snirt of cosflv economy, reduced to one officer and 15 men.

Then the brooding Te Kooti began to see bis opportunity. Several of the chiefs were taken back to their homes in New Zealand, and when a promised general repatriation was long, delayed the low-born man secured a hearing among the remaining exiles, who bad begun to despair. Pondering much alone the strange man read continually in his Maori Bible of the captivity of the Israelites in Babylon, as it appeared, under circumstances, so kindred to bis own. Ono dev bo bad climbed tn the ton of a small nvramidical hill. He glanced at the lightlv-gunrded settlement at his feet and at the endless sun-glinting sea beyond, then settled down to read Startled, be came upon those words of the Prophet Jeremiah : “ Refrain from weeping, and thine eves from tears: for thr works shall bo rewarded, saith the Lord, and they shall come again from the land of the enemy. “ And there is hone in thine end, saith the Lord, for thv children shall come again to their own border.” The words of the Jewish prophet struck the nnhappv man almost with the force of a physical blow. For him thev had an intense persona] application, and the mysticism that is in the soul of every Maori took complete control of the brooding man.

“ Surely,” Im cried. “ this is the voice of God sneaking to me. bidding me. lead this People out of the bouse of bondage. I shall ween no more.” He sat there alone on the hillton staring out over the ocean. Gradually his dark eves lost their dullness: a consuming blaze of enthusiasm glowed more and more fiercely fiom their dark deaths. “It is a message,” he whispered again. “It is a call for me to lead them forth.” His eyes shadowed for a moment. ‘‘ But first I must gain their ear: must win them burningly to niv leadership.” That was his great initial difficulty, for every man and woman of the exile band was imbued with the firm conviction that the lowly born Te Kooti was a fellow of no importance. He scowled over the problem, but the answer came at last, ami he smiled as he whispered, “ Aie. that will win their attention. So will I do.” That night the scrub-walled meeting

house was filled with the mournful exiles,

They sang the songs and chants of their far away homeland, until a mood of intense sadness swept over the entire gathering. Then through the gloom filled hall marched Te Kooti. and climbed into the low pulpit, while the worshippers whispered, wondering what was to come next. Why should this man of mean parentage usurp the place of the priest? The answer came ringing out of the darkness.

“ Te Atua (God) has given me a message for you,” Te Kooti declaimed in sonorous tones. “ The Wairua-Tapu (Holy Spirit) has promised that I shall lead you from this bondage to your own land • once more. Hear me now. He has promised that a sign shall be given, so that all will believe my words. Be silent and afraid. Look upon the sign of Mie Wairua-Tapu.” There was hushed, tense silence, in the gloomy hall—the superstitious Natives hardly dared to breath, yet stared with mystic expectation towards the shadowy figure that claimed to be the Messenger of Hidden Things.

Suddenly a flaming, fire-limned hand appeared above the preacher’s head, waved slowly’ to and fro, as if in benediction; then, as suddenly as it had appeared, vanished altogether. A long drawn breath of amazement told something of the deep effect upon the unseen audience. “ Ye have seen,” the voice of Te Kooti boomed out of the darkness. “ The promised sign was given. The days of thy captivity are numbered. There is hope in thine end, saith the Lord, that thy children shall come again to their own border. Now, bring me light, and I will read to you the message of the Atua.” While all stared, fascinated, the prophet of a new hope all hungered for read to them the 31st chapter of Jeremiah, with its pictures of sorrowful exile and its promises of deliverance. When the last word of promise had fallen from his lips, the new prophet left the meet-ing-house as he had come, saying no word to any man. More than ever he was a man apart, consecrated to a mission of deliverance. At a single stroke his mana (prestige) had been so firmly established that the scoffing of a single sceptic, Te - Kooti s own uncle, was beaten down by a wave of enthusiasm ami joyous hope. Amongst the exiles was a Herculean half-caste, Baker M'Lean, or, as the Maoris called him, Peka Makarini, a man Oft 2in in height, immensely strong and utterly’ courageous. At that time he seemed an amiable, obliging fellow, and he became a great favourite among the guards, taking a keen interest in learning to play all the military bugle calls. Him Te Kooti took into his confidence, and the two planned the details of the seizure of the guard redoubt and the. settlement. And nightly Te Kooti preached in the meeting-house, performing various miracles. Again and again the flaming hand appeared; on another occasion a glowing cross—it had been smeared with a mixture of flax gum and phosphorus match heads—rose" in the darkness behind the rostrum. Gradually a formal ritual was evolved, superseding the old Hauhau jargon, to become the cult of the Wairua-Tapu or Ringatu (the upraised hand). In it the captives and their relatives in New Zealand became the Israelites, and the white men, their oppressors, to be driven from the Land of Promise at the approach of Te Kooti, the new Moses. A hundred texts in the Old Testament fitted their position perfectly, and these Te Kooti hulled at them with such adroitness that nearly all were soon convinced that the messages were specially written for them.

1 hen when the devotees were ripe or almost anything the gaunt, fierce-eyed prophet went olf alone into the hills. Taking no food with him he pent a day and a night, a dark, silent man, brooding oxer the face of the restless deep, leaching out and out, his very soul in his eyes, searching and seeking an answer from the sea. Hour after hour he sat in his eyrie gazing upon far, unseen things. Li* Me by little shadowy pictures formed on the screen of his consciousness fluid, delible shapes of ships afar upon the ocean—two ships, sails aspread. winging fast towards the isles of exile.

He came back to the meeting house in a white heat of fervour calling the people together as he passed their houses. “The hour of our (leliverance is at hand, ’ he proclaimed with utter certainty. “ Ihe Atua has given mo a final message of good hope. Four days from now will come into this bay two ships, one large, one small. The large ship, the one with three masts, saith the Atua. shall be the ark of our salvation. Nowlet us gi'e thanks ami then prepare, for soon we leave this place. There is one more word that came to me: there shall be no killing in the coming fight, for the Atua will deliver the enemy into our hands.”

. Te s uncle, the old man, Te Warihi, slipped from the meeting house and silently ran across to the guard. He had no faith at all in his nephew, his miracles, or his promises. He oould see only trouble ahead unless Te Kooti were arrested and his foolish followers shown their folly. He told the guard and their-conunander a queer, jumbled tale of miracles and prophecies and imminent rebellion, but they laughed at him and his foolis’ tale. Not one would believe that the patient, quiet-seeming prisoners were anything but peaceful in intent. On Tuesday, June 30, 1808, the ketch Florence arrived in the roadstead. Three days later the three-masted topsail schooner Rifleman, with Government stores aboard, dropped anchor in the bay. This dramatic confirmation of Te Kooti’s prediction swept away any lingering doubt, and lifted-the exile community to a pitch of intense excitement. When the prophet communicated his final plans to the gathering on Friday night all eagerly promised to obey his orders. “ On the morrow,” he told them, “ you will be asked to man the surfboat to unload the stores from the ship. \\ e shall seize the boat—l myself will take the steering oar and lead you to the boat with three masts. Another partv will take the fort, binding the soldiers and taking all their arms. Yet another company will race to the settlement of the white people, securing all arms and money. Be you of good courage and firm obedience, and all shall go well. Remember also the command of the Atua. that there shall be no shedding of

Next morning the chosen parties carried out the plans of Te Kooti with almost incredible ease. The sentry at the redoubt was overpowered, and the remainder of the garrison was overwhelmed in one fierce rush. The sentry at the magazine, Private Michael Hartnett, who refused to allow the rebels into the armoury, and showed a bold front to his numerous foes, was tomahawked by an excited Maori, in defiance of the orders of Te Kooti. This was the only casualtv.

While things were going successfully for the prisoners on shore the surfboat party was no less triumphant. The Riflemans skipper was detained ashore, and the unsuspecting crew’ were soon overawed by the boatload of desperate men led by their wild-eyed “ prophet.” Once masters of the ship" of their desire the boat party attacked the nearby ketch, and after putting her crew ashore looted the little vessel, and set her adrift to become a total wreck, so that no news of the. escape might reach the authorities in New- Zealand.

I’lushed with success, with a booty amounting to more than £5OO in money, and—more important to them—over 50 useful guns, and a. large store of ammunition, the excited Maoris commenced the embarkation. \\ bile this was going forward Te Kooti made terms with the captured mate and crew.

“ If you take us safely to our homes no harm shall come to you,” the elated leader of the escapees promised. “ The boat shall be yours again after we have landed. If you will not do this,” Te Kooti pointed significanty to the guns that had been brought aboard after the seizure of the redoubt.

The pact was made, and crowded with nearly 309 excited and wildly-jubilant men, women, and children the Rifleman set sail for the New- Zealand coast. The voyage commenced with high holies, but soon came gloomy forebodings. For almost a week the captured ship battled against savage head winds out of the vest. All on board the overcrowded shin were wet and miserable, and, worst of all, they were making scarcely any progress. Some murmured openly that they had but left the security of the land to drown in the storm-battered ocean. All this the aloof prophet heard, but he bided his time, waiting an opportunity both to deal out savage retribution to one whom he deemed a traitor, and with the same stroke revive the wavering faith of his murmurous followers. From the many sea journeyings of his youth Te Kooti was weather-wise, and every minute of each day he studied the wqather indications with extreme care. At last, after a week of storm, he judged the time was ripe for his stroke. “ There is an evil man aboard,” he told the miserable Natives, whom he had assembled on the wet and heaving main deck. “ For this reason it is the Atua punishes us all. Until that evil one be cast forth we shall never reach the land. I shall seek him.”

The strong west wind sang throught the taut cordage, the angrv waves crashed thunderously against the sides of the plunging ship, but no man dared speak. The prophet stamped below amid the roar of the elements, and the fearful silence of tile huddled throng crouching on the wet deck. So they waited silent ;nd afraid for almost half an hour. Then from the stern cabin Te Kooti came running out upon the deck, wild-eyed, his shining hair fretting loose in the gale.

“ That is the man,” he called in a great voice, pointing to his old uncle, T> Warihi, who sat by his grey-haired wife. " That is the man. It has been revealed to me that unless we throw him overside, even as Avas done to Hona (Jonah), this boat and ail on board will never reach the land. Seize him and cast him overside.” It was a bleak and windy afternoon, with overhead a wrack of driving clouds, and overside the waste of tossing surges. Even as the prophet spoke, a mountainous wave rose towering up astern, threatening to engulf the schooner and all its human freight. ‘‘Quick! quick!” screamed the fanatical leader. “ Cast him over the stern, or all will perish. See! the Atua is indeed angry.” Two poxverful men seized the grevhaired elder and filing him over the stern railing into the swirl below. Te Warihi made neither struggle nor outcry : he sank like a stone. The towering billow, tall as a mountain range, as a spectator afterwards said, did not break, as it had threatened, but slid smoothly under the labouring ship. There was an unexpected break in the Western clouds, and the lastrays of the setting sun drove over the angrv waters and fell upon the stormtossed vessel.

*• We are saved,’’- Te. Kooti shouted with

sax-age exultation. ‘‘The sun has come as an omen of brightness for the morrow. Evil has none from amongst us, there shall be fair winds and smooth sailing.” He held both hands above his head, eves closed, as if in invocation. “ I see the land, ’the green land of Ao-te-a-roa (North Island of New Zealand). Aie! I see its tall mountains swimming above the waters,” he chanted joyfully. “ Tim Atua has promised that there sha.ll he. favouring xvinds. To-mor-row xvc shall make our landfall, sighting the coast of the Promised Land.” The thing happened exactlv a s the prophet had promised. The west xvind died down and in the night a south-east breeze sprang up and drove the wearv

fugitives steadily toxvards their goal. At sunrise next morning the mountains of their desire stood out distantly above the blue sea.

A course was set that would bring the vessel to land a little to the south of Poverty Bay. There Te Kooti. all bis prestige restored, led his reioicing band ashore in a sheltered cove.. The” gathered round him on the beach ami the fiemeeved pronhet led the tri'”«nhant psalm mised, out of the House of Bondage into ©f thanksgiving for many dangers over-

come. He had led them, as he had protheir own borders. All his prophecies had come to pass, and just as certainly, his ardent followers exulted, would this, too, be fulfilled. Te Kooti, prophet and bold leader, xvould lead them to the conquest of their oxvn loved land, to the final overthrow of the alien whites. Faith unbounded and hope, high as the tall bills, xvere masters of the camp in the sheltered, hidden bay.

North and south and eastward unsuspicious white settlers and their families thanked God that the troubled days of war and insecurity had gone for ever. Scattered groups of soldiers, among xvhom were Eric and his two companions, turned in to sleep, xvith a grow] at the monotony of their calling. “ Faith,” Barney had bemoaned despairingly. “This counthry’s done, for an honest man. Oi dhragged me coa( up an’ doxvn the road for a mortal hour this evening an’ not even a rooster xvud puff up his fithers at it. In silf-dilince O’il foight the furst lad that comes along the road in the morrning.”

CHAPTER VI.—PEACEFUL VALLEY.

In all the length and breadth of Nexv Zealand there is no more fertile, no more storied place than the rich Valley’ of the Whakatane River, in the centre of the aptly-named Bay of Plenty. Here, when Edward of England was fighting the Scots at Bannockburn, came Matatua, one of the six original canoes that brought the ancestors of the Maori from crowded Polynesia. They came, these hardy voyagers, across 1000 miles of ocean to colonise the land of Ao-te-a-roa, —the Long White Cloud —whose lonely beauties had been vaunted by daring explorers of their race. The very name of the place is a remembrance of this ancestral journey, for when the paddlers of the great canoe, exhausted by much strenuous work, were thrust back by the swift current at the rocky river mouth the chieftain’s daughter, seizing a paddle from a weary man, called to the other women: “ Whaka taue! Whaka lane! (Let us play the part of men.)” Thus, driven slowly forward by stout-hearted, strong-limbed women, the far voyaging canoe won clear of the surf thrashed rocks, through the sxvirling currents, to the beach below the hill, where stands to-day the. town of Whakatane. Of those far days and of the later centuries of fierce tribal wars there are endless songs and tales. For years beyond count the swift river, whose birthplace is in the misty Urewera mountains, has sxvept down the rich spoil of the hills to build a coastal plain of surpassing richness. In the ’sixties of last century the numerous Maoris of this valley diligently cultivated the soil, so that the district well merited the name bestowed by Captain Cook—the Bay of Plenty.

Leaving Te Kooti and his excited followers exultant upon their beach, let

us, in fancy, journey 80 miles north-west-nurd in airline over a xvihlerness of

bush-clothed mountains, to the plain of Whakatane. Where the rushing river emerged from its gorges to wander at more leisurely pace through the Tick

flat lands stood the Native settlement of Rualoki, strong outpost of the Urewera mountain tribes. Occupying the fat lands nearer the sea xvere the tribes of Ngati Pukeko ami Ngati Axva (Ngati in Maori has the same significance as the Scottish Mac). These were an industrious folk, xvho grew abundant crops of wheat, maize, potatoes, and other foods. The Governor, Sir George Grey, had given the Ngati Pukeko a small flourmill, and this had been erected at Te Poronu, three and a-half miles from Whakatane port, near the steep hilb» that looked down on the western bank of the river and across the xvide running stream from Rauporoa, the Ngati Pukeko fortress town.

For this milling enterprise the Maoris enlisted the services of Jean Guerren, a clever French mechanic, xvho was engaged to erect and operate the mill. Hoani te VVixvi, John the Frenchman, as the Maoris called him, was a short, stout man of about 45 years, neat and tidy in his ways and, as will be seen, a deadly shot, and a man without knoxvlcdge of fear. Jean had dammed the small Poronu stream that rushed eagerly down fropi tho Western hills to join its big brother iri the march to the sea, and from the largo pond so made came the water to drive, the machinery of the mill. Upon one side of the spillxrax’ from this dam stood the mill buildings, there was a small redoubt in which stood Jean's house, the two being connected by a plank bridge across the narrow channel. To this outpost of civilisation Jean had brought, .so far as possible, the sxveet familiar things of his loved land of France. There had groxvn up in these alien surroundings a scented garden of old-fashioned flowers; there xvere, too, vinos of Southern France, and a neatly-ordered patch of vegetables. Jean was an exile, but not discontented with the fate that had thrown him up sa far from the place of bis birth and kindrod. He and bis young and pretty Maori wife Elizabeth, Erihaueti. or most usuallv Peti, for short, as tho Natives called her, were busy from daylight to dusk, and very happy in their neat and comfortable home at the mill. With them dwelt Peti’s sister, 17 year old Monika, the two girls being daughters of a chief of the neighbouring Rangitaiki. There had been' heavy crops, and the

threshing of the wheat had been going on merrily for some time. The mill, too, was running from daylight till dark, so that on the. Saturday afternoon when xve made bis acquaintance, the jolly miller xvas powdered from head to foot xvith a fine white dust. He looked at his stout xvatch,

then strolled from the clanking machinery, that he loved as a father, towards the Maori helpers who laboured amid the piles of sacks. “ Eh bien ! ” he cried, shaking the dust from his mop of hair ; “ that will be enough. We shall stop for the day now.” He turned off the water, then ran across the plank to his house. One hand reached for his shotgun, the ether slipped round Feti’s waist, and in the same breath he frowned savagely at his smiling young sister-in-law. “ And where goes prettv Monika, with her hair full of the flowers that the brazen one steals from my garden? ” he demanded, the twinkling eyes belying the belligerent tone. “ There is some man behind this adornment. I shall look into it, naughty one. Is it that lanky Taranaki from Rauporoa? Ila! I see that bullet did not miss its target. Listen then to me, Monika cherie. If that tall, illfavoured youth comes pestering thee. I shall shoot him on sight so very dead that he wiil never worry thee again.” “ I shall tell him,” Monika answered gravely, patting the wreath of flowers to make certain that it was not awrv. “ But hold thy shot till I call for aid, stout brother.” “ She calls me fat,” the miller cried indignantly, “ Thy sister is indeed a very wicked girl, Peti.” He marched to the door, and shading his eyes stared across the sweep of the river. A long canoe shot out from the opposite bank and headed towards the mill shore. In it was one person, a tall youth, who also wore a flower garland around his bared head.

“ Mon Dieu ! There is the rascal now.” Jean cried in mbek excitement. “ Fat she called me. I shall certainlv shoot him on

sight. Where is the rifle, Peti? We must slav this evil youth that so annovs vour bt-tle sister.” But Peti only laughed, and Monika, thrusting the Frenchman aside, sped down the path to the river bank. She reached the water’s edge, and turned, all laughter, to shake a small fist at Jean, who, with gun in pretended readiness and Peti by his side, stood upon the rampar' of the redoubt. “He is a fine lad. that Taranaki,” Jea? said to his smiling wife, “and the ood God will guard our little Monika. Lut I should have liked her to have wedded Jules, my countryman, that so magnificent chef, or, if he would, Monsieur Eric. Ah! well, ’tis no business of you nor me, Peti. We're old and married, and —his arm went round the slim waist again—“so happy we desire the same for .her. We must remember that youth calls to youth, and Taranahi is a fine lad.” He jumped down from the wall, then swung Peti down beside him. “ I go up to the hills with the gun, little one. By the never-broken word of Jean Guerren I swear that there shall be pigeon for supper to-night. Au revoir, cherie.”

Down by the river bank Monika, her smooth young limbs bare to the kisses of the sun, her dark hair gay with the flowers, of far France, awaited the coming of her lover. A few months back her long hair had been cut in token of mourning for the death of a relative, but the short-cut hair accentuated, rather than marred, the rounded beauty of her face. She had the regular features of classic Greek sculpture, but with these the light golden skin of her race and radiant animation that no statue carved by man could ever match. “ Hold. Taranahi,” she called primly as the canoe drew' near. “ Thou must not step ashore. John the Frenchman has sworn to shoot you if you come here —to vex me.”

Taranahi, a good-looking youth, was not much impressed. His white teeth showed in a merry smile. “Do I vex thee, dear one ? ” he asked as he drove the canoe ashore at the mouth of the Poronu Creek. “Do I vex thee so very much ? ”

“ Sometimes—when thou art late for a promised tryst.” “ I could not leave the threshing, Monika, till all was done,” the youth defended himself earnestly as he reached out and caught the bank.’ “ Nevertheless, seeing that I am vexed it were safer for you not to come ashore. John the Frenchman ever keeps his word, and. though angry, perhaps it might make me sad if he were to shoot you.” She puckered her brows in thought, while the youth in the canoe waited, a trifle doubtful for all his easy smile. He was never quite sure what pretty Monika would say or do next. “Ha! I have found a way,” Monika cried at last, clapping her’ hands together. “ I shall come with you in the canoe, and we shall drift with the stream. It may be, if you hold me very close, my anger shall flee away. I cannot be certain how it will be when I am vexed, yet maybe it is worth the trial. And wile'll the twilight comes, and the wild duck flies, then we shall paddle backtogether, for, like the wild duck, I must cat.”

She stepped daintily into the canoe, and seizing a paddle, helped Taranahi to swing the boat into the main stream. Then she slipped close to the youth, her head nestling upon his breast, his strong arms tightly around her. So they drifted, at the merry will of the river, talking a little, then singing together old, old songs of love in the clangorous days of their warlike race. “ But those times are dead,” Monika murmured happily. “ There is to be no more war, Taranahi. All fighting has and there is to lie peace and love and happiness. So Eriki says, and he knows everything.”

“It may be.” Taranahi spoke regretfully. -He had the blood of many warriors in his veins. “Yet those were goovl days, chine (dear one), when a man

fought the more stoutly because he loved just such a maid as thou.”

The girl made as if to struggle free from the close embrace.

“ Nay, I was wrong. There was never a maid like Monika, since Maui made the sun run more slowly,” the youth made honourable amend and his prisoner snuggled down more closely. “ That is the reason,” the lad went on slowly, “ that I think with sadness of the days that have vanished. For such a maid,” he held her breathlessly close—

“Taranahi. could tight as never man fought before.”

“ Talk not of wars,’’ Monika whispered unhappily. “ Talk no more of wars, for they mean death and separation. Peace has come, and I would have it ever so in in the glad valley of ours.” She struggled free and pointed to the bush-girt mountains of Urewera, behind which the sun was sinking. “ See, Taranahi, there is fire upon the hills. The forests are all ablaze. It may be that the gods are vexed with us. Think you there is an omen in that -angry glare’?” She shaded her eyes, her head drooping low. A shiver ran through her frame. “ Who talks now of war ?” the youth chided, drawing her nearer. “ Nav, Monika, dear one, there is naught to fear. So the sun has set ten thousand times and nothing happened. There will be no more war. The white man with his guns has spoken, and he says there must be no more fighting. ” I am afraid,” the girl whispered faintly. “My head is full of sad thoughts and darkness seem.s very near, clutching at me with outflung, curving hands.” She shook herself angrily. “I am bad, foolish. Do thou forgive me, Taranahi. And if danger come, be thou near me and I shall not fear.” She grasped the paddle and dipped it in the stream. “ See the wild duck is already a-wing and,’’ she laughed a trifle uncertainly, “ I think that soon I shall be very hungry.” They drove back ‘to Poronu Creek all aglow from the struggle upriver against tlm strong current. Moliika’s mood of sadness had altogether vanished : she was a’l gaiety once more. “Come thou with me,” she cried to the bashful youth. “ I am no longer vexed, so John the Frenchman will not harm I’m?’” She sniffed the air delicately. “ there is pigeon cooking fo r supper, and, great fighter. I shall hide the Frenchman’s gun. Be not afraid, tall Taranahi, thy little Monika shall guard thee.” Arms intertwined, the two came slowly t 3 the pleasant house beside the mill, whispering happy plans and fondest hopes tor an unclouded future.

CHAPTER VII.—MARCH OF THE ISRAELITES.

In order to bring together the scattered threads of our story, it will be necessary to set out, as briefly as possible, the doings of the Israelites in the six months following their daring escape from their island prison. The memory of those perilous spacious days vanishes swiftly in the hustle of modern life, and doubtless many will find this resurrection of the dry bones of history very dull reading, since the siginficance of the events to be recorded has been almost lost. Embers of rebellion still smouldered in the Waikato, and might, at any favourable opportunity, leap into the red flame of revolt. There was fighting on the West Coast, and now the Natives of the east were being stirred to thoughts of a successful war by the advent of a wild avenging prophet, whose claims to be the right aim of a destroying God, a miracleworking messenger and leader, had received a measure of confirmation in his remarkable deeds. Were he able to effect a union of the discontented tribes, and scattered white communities might well have found their position untenable.

Realising something of this, the fanatic prophet bent all his energies to the task of securing new adherents. From his camp on the beach, he sent missionaries out among the surrounding clans to preach the new evangel, with its promises of divine aid for the overthrow of the whites. Despite the strongest efforts, the response fell far below the prophet’s hopes. The tribes of the coast were still smarting under the lash of defeat; they realised that their flat, open lands could not be field against the armed forces of the Crown. Therefore, although some of the younger hotheads joined Te Kooti, most of the Maoris decided to wait and watch the progress of events. They could not believe that the dreams of the prophet could be made into realities. News of the dramatic escape and of the warlike overtures of Te Kooti among the peaceful clans filtered through to the military commandant at Matawhero, five miles upstream from the site of the present town of Gisborne* He called out all the available forces, mounted volunteers. and sent a friendly chief to the prophet’s camp. “ It is the order of the Government that you deliver un all vour arms and wait quietly here till a boat can be sent for your party,” the envoy stated boldly, as he stood, unarmed amid Te Kooti’s massed followers.

It was the first contact with authority on the mainland, and the organiser of revolt realised to the full that his people were watching him with fascinated intentness. He sat on an unturned box before his brush hut. his well-armed followers on either hand, behind him the big half-case bugler, with the bugle, taken at the Chathams, ostentatiously slung over one shoulder. Te Kooti heard the message in grim silence, then, as the speaker paused- expectantly. threw’ hack bis head, and laughed so savarolv, that even his o\vn followers, were chilled. “ So that is ’-cur message, white man’s do”. Now hear mv word.” he called, spitting out each syllable with slow deliberation. “Say to your masters that I stav here as long as I wish, and depart when I please. W hen I go, I go to rouse the inland tribes, to set un a new king among the Maoris, and to drive the white

man from cur lands that he has stolen. Go to them, slave of the white man, ana tell them to stop Te Kooti—if they can.” He stood up and walked menacingly toward the envoy, who for his part, did not flinch, though he could see the armed guards cm cither side fingering their guns excitedly. “ But they can not stop me, slave, ’ the prophet shouted, flinging arms above his head. “ The Atua has revealed the way- to me, and this is His word. They shall be put to the sword and utterly destroyed who fight against my people Israel.’ Go, tell your masters, slave.”

The chief was bitterly angered bv these insulting words from a man of low degree, but the exultant applause that followed Te Kooti’s bitter gibes and the significant cocking of many guns, made him realise that tin's was no time for heroics. In angry silence the chief swung about and marched away. In spite of his bold words Te Kooti was no fool. It would not suit his plans to be caught in the open with his back to the sea. The rebel band, their defiance delivered, at once set about their preparations for the inland journey. On July 15, 1868, the long column of the Israelites, well armed and heavily laden with the spoil of the Chathams, moved off along broken trails, through dense forest country, chanting as they went, a fierce psalm of victory. So it was that the Government force of 40 whites and 30 armed Natives found cold ashes when they came to the camp on the beach. It was decided not to pursue through the bush but to double back, and by forced marches through the more open country endeavour to get ahead of the rebel line of march. By hard riding they accomplished this, and leaving their horses and supplies in a valley, hidden as it was thought, the man force dug in upon a ridge which it was believed Te Kooti must traverse.

“ The Lord has delivered them into my hands, said Te Kooti, joyfully, when his scouts came in with news’ of a’ war party °f the enemy. He thought for a moment, reflecting on the importance to his cause of the results of this first swirmish. ‘ They cannot have brought un all their supplies into these hills,” he mused. “ They have come too swiftly. Somewhere. toward the open, there will be a camp. ’ With care he selected a special kokiri (raiding party), and detached them to seek and raid the camp he felt sure must lie somewhere below. Then he flung out long skirmishing lines and flanking parties, and advanced slowly to encircle the enemy. The attack was not nressed till word came back from the raiding party. They had not only found the hidden camp, the messenger proclaimed with huge delight, but had captured a fresh supply train of food and ammunition.

Te Kooti received the news wi-h delight, and the exultant Israelites rushed forward with determination. Truly the Atua was fighting on their side. The flanking parties drove in the outposts of the outnumbered garrison. The white force was in a bad way. It was exhausted bv long marching, and had been unable to carry more than 30 rounds of ammunition and little food through the rough country to their improvised summit fort. Hourly they expected relief and fresh supplies, b-t these never came. They hung on till darkness, husbanding their scantv store of bullets. Then in the windy night, with ammunition all gone and no food left, they slipped back and made off, pursued for some distance, but escaping in the darkness. They had suffered 10 casualties, while not one of the exultant Israelites had been so much as touched by a bullet.

Great were the rejoicings at this initial success against the Government forces.

“ We are under the protection of God,” cried Te Kooti, and he and his followers, and the hesitant Natives who watched from afar, believed that this was true. As Major-general Whitmore wrote in later years: “ Undoubtedly the extraordinary prestige this Remarkable man afterwards acquired sprang from this brilliant and, to the Maori mind, inexplicable success.”

It was to be but the first of many such successes. Four days later a party of 20 white soldiers and 20 picked Natives was met on the eastern bank of the Wairoa River. Flanking parties were again successful, and only splendid sharpshooting and the welcome advent of darkness saved the Government force from annihilation. They escaped, fighting a plucky rearguard action. This second success heartened the waverers. An entire clan, recently armed by the Government, joined Te Kooti in a body, and fresh recruits from the hill tribes were constantly arriving. The prophet, with augmented forces, full of high hopes, continued his leisuurely way inland over terribly rough and broken country. Colonel Whitmore, with a hastily gathered force of about 200 men followed hard on the rugged trail, crossing and recrossing numerous icy streams then in high flood. The British attack was firmly met and repulsed. Te Kooti, urging on his men, was wounded in the foot, but the Government force was compelled to retire, and the Israelites resumed their inland march to their sanctuary in the hills.

In November the rested and augmented forces of the rebels swept down in a lightning dash upon the plains of Poverty Bay in fulfilment of the promised vengeance of their chief. The Israelites had become drunk with success. Fed with texts that urged to slaughter, their latent ferocity burst all bounds In a night and a morning of savage excesses the raiding parties slew men, women, and children. Thirty-three Europeans and 37 friendly Maoris were butchered, and all the. homes of the rich plain were looted and set on fire. Leaving the plain

ablaze, laden with a booty that included 100 rifles and much ammunition, the blood-maddened fanatics returned to their fastnesses, ready for any battle or any further savagery. In this massacre, of which a neglected warning had been given, Peka Makarini shone forth in his real colours. He became—and delighted in his office—one of the chief “ executioners ” of the fanatic faith.

Roused by this sudden savage blow a force of vengeance was swiftly flung on the trail of Te Kooti’s plunder-laden band. .Again the wily rebel played his old trick. He detached a strong kokiri, which swung to one side, and taking the roughest of trails through the dense screen of forest, came out 10 miles behind the Government forces. They surprised the guard at the base depot, and returned with some 12,000 rounds of ammunition. Meanwhile Te Kooti’s main force held up the British advance, while another section prepared a strong entrenched position, six miles to the rear, on the crest oi a precipitous hill, 2000 ft above sea level. When the Israelites retired to this natural stronghold of Ngatapa they beat off the first British assault, but in January of the next year this position was besieged. Colonel Whitmore arrived with 400 armed constabulary, 300 fresh friendly Maoris, and a small cannon that with’infinite difficulty had been pushed, dragged, and carried to this rugged spot. Eric, Barney, and Jules had been drafted into this force, and with the other troops, they dug an entrenchment on a ridge, christened the “ Crow’s Nest,” 800 yards from the Maori fort, but separated from it by a deep ravine. “.Ma foi! but that place is the very devil,” Jules muttered, as he sat on his upturned bucket on the shallow trench. “There are three stout walls, each more than twelve feet high, stretching from one cliff-edge to the other. ’Tis a hard nut to crack, that fort. I shall have to cook many dinners here, and the hunting looks not so good to me. War is a sad thing, and most inconvenient for a chef. These rations. Mon Dieu ! They are a crime.”

Eric had been sweeping the long wedge of the fort with his glasses. “ I think you re wrong, Jules,” he said quietly. “We’ve got them like rats in a trap. Our troops are holding the narrow ridge in their rear. That’s their only way of escape, and if we take the first line we cut off their water supplies. Yop can see them carrying water from the spring there now. They’re done, as sweetly as one of your dejeuners, if we take that lowest wall, Jules.” “Faith an’ there spakes the little darlint that’ll clare the way,” Barney called happily. “Be the fower bones av me Oi groaned an’ swhore an’ swheated bind whin Oi pushed the baste up thim hills, but ’twas worrth the i verlast nig agony. Boom ! she says, an’ plumps wan fair behind the last loine av thim, as nate as you plaze, in among the houses av the murthering divvies.” The shell burst noisily. Then they heard faint screamings of pain or excitement. Eric was watching through his glasses and saw a tall figure spring upon the parapet and shake his fist at the investing force. “ It’s that half-caste butcher,” he called. “ I can see the bugle clearly.” Thin here’s a message from Kerry,” Barney shouted and pulled trigger, but without any luck. The . wind was very strong, and soon the rain came down in torrents. Volunteers were called for a forlorn hope, and the three Legionaries were amongst the thirty chosen. In the teeth of the howling gale, i n a deluge of rain and in the face of a hail of bullets, the small band charged up to the lowest line of earthworks and there dug in, waiting for daylight and reinforcements. During the stormy night, another party, chiefly composed of Maori allies, scaled the precipi tons gravel sides of the fortress and enfiladed the second line of defence. Under the fire of the cannon and the two advanced parties, the water supply was cut off, and though for the rainy present this did not matter, Te Kooti saw clearly that his position was hopeless. This is not the end,” he told his dispirited followers. “The Atua punishes all because some of you have not obeyed my * ders. Cut ropes of vines from the bush at the sides and we can all drop down the steep cliff at the side. That is unguarded because they think no man could leave by that door. Make hr.-te while the storm and the darkness fight for us.”

The rebel garrison silently made their preparations, and man by man, and with them many women, swarmed down the sheer face of the cliff into the darkness and the battering wind. They broke up into small parties to throw pursuers off the trail, but many were weak from exposure and want of food. About one hundred and twenty fell into the hands of „the pursuing friendly Maoris, who lemembering their murdered kinsmen of Poverty Bay. shot every male of the captured fugitives summarily. Tn the fruitless pursuit of the remainder, Eric and his friends took no part. It was considered that the revolt had been crushed and the troops were withdrawn to the coast, where supplies could be maintained with less difficulty. Small bands of friendly Maoris continued to scour the rugged forestland, but Te Kooti and the bulk of his followers had slipped away to the northward, into unknown, unfriendly country, where, for the time, they found secure sanctuary in the immense and trackless forest of Te Wera, above the Bay of Plenty. The three comrades came back to their old post in lovely Whakatane, and settled down to the monotony of peace routine once more. All of them grumbled at the tameness of their life, but, truth to tell each appreciated the rest after the short

but strenuous campaign in the roadless wilderness.

Eric found a letter from Northumberland waiting for him cn his return. I think that if you were to como home, dear,’’ Alice wrote, “matters might be mended. My father, who sends his greetings to you, thinks that your fathermay be softening toward you.’ He is an old man now—indeed, we are all getting older, Eric and your brother has done some things that 'have brought discredit o.i the family. Your father is certainly very unhappy, and sometimes he asks my lather about you. You must judge for yourself, dear, but I think the time is approaching when you should think of returning to your own people.” ~ can ’t>” Eric muttered bitterly. IA bile that old thing remains uncleared I can tgo home. But, God-in Heaven, how I wish it weije possible.” There were other things, soon to happen, that would make his return still more impracticable. Of them, only a wildeyed man, who limped a little, as be stamped across his hidden forest clearing, mouthing Scriptural injunctions to slaughter to a steadily growing company of fanatics, as yet held the key. (To be continued.)