The TE KOOTI TRAIL

Otago Witness, Issue 3832, 23 August 1927, Page 62

The TE KOOTI TRAIL

A Story of Adventure

_,L2Ye and ,

By

Frank H. Bodie.

SYNOPSIS. CHAPTERS I AND ll.—The scene is tfae great Roman Wall at Northumberland in 1858. After the Rev. Horace Winslow has finished telling the story of -the Lost Legion (the Roman army ’. that never returned) to his daughter Alice and Geoffrey and Eric Maritell, Eric, who is a very junior officer of a hussar regiment, asks Alice to walk wijh him through the gateway in the Wall, where the Lost Legion Jiad gone. She goes, thus { proving her love for Eric, and making Geqf- 1 frey, Eric's senior by one year, but his twinl in appearance vow vengeance on -lus brother. Eric and Alice seem to feel thjit adventure awaits them, and promise to be true to each other until the happiness, which is t-o crown all, comes to them. Thht evening at hia, 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 Heyling, his father, Sir Raglan Mantell, disowns him, and orders him away for ever Eric, picking up the notes stumbles away. CHAPTERS HI 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' fight in the Waikato campaign, and against the Hauhaus In • the Bay of plenty. , , CHAPTER V.—When, in the beginning of. 1866. over SOO Hauhau rebels were transported to the Chatham < Islands, a Maori, named Te Kooti, was sent away with them under, a charge of treachery to the Government. Feeling that’ his sentence was unjust Te Kooti vowed vengeance’on the white men. and at last, by working'on the feelings of his fellow-exiles, won. for himself a band of followers, and captured a boat in which they returned to New Zealand, landing .a little to the south of Poverty Bay. CHAPTER Vl.—On the plain of Whakatane stands the mill of Jean Guerren, a Fro mechanic, called by the Maoris Hoani te Wiwi. He lives with his Maori . wife, Elizabeth (Erihapeti), arid her sister Monika, whose lover is ;Taranahi. These Gast two see smoke rising from the. hißs, but take it as no bad omen. i CHAPTER VII.—Te Kooti, aided by ■ a half-caste, Baker M'Lean, called Peka Makarini, begins serious fighting against the ■Government. Eric, Barney, and Jules, who jo(n Colonel Whitmore’s force, help to quell the rebellion. Once more the country sis lulled to a false sense of security, CHAPTER Vlll.—Lieutenant' Mair comes to tell Eric, Barney, and Jules that they are to go with- him to Tauranga, the military headquarters. Taranahi, however, says that Te Kooti is on the .trail, so Mair rides off alone after- leaving the three friends halfway at Matata, while Taranahi has orders to report if he. hears any more news. CHAPTER IX.—Te Kooti reinforces himself with bands of hillmen, who hate their kinsn.en on the plains, and marches towards Whakatane, killing a chief’s daughter as sacrifice on his journey. Taranahi, bn his way to Tauranga with the news, has left his brother, Tautari, to hold his place iin the defence. Jean, waiting in the mill, spedds the bullet which kills the first of the enemy.

CHAPTER X.—THE RESCUE RACE. Taranahi wasted no time in long preparations for his ride for rescue. He raced to the h'orse paddock and secured one bf the strongest horses owned by his tribe, a raking great chestnut that could stride tirelessly along at a. fast pace for hours at a stretch. He had seized also a half-eaten leg of pork and with this as his food supply and his rifle slung 'behind his shoulders, he set- off at a sharp pace, amid a hail of encouraging cries from his kinsmen.

As he was catching his horse, the youth had decided that he must mhke for the coast and ride along the open ocean beaq’h. The inland trails were circuitous ahd broken by great swamns and. soft quakihg earth, covered with rustling flax and reeds) with,’here and there, nn the islands bf dryer ground, clumps of cabbage-trjee .palms and tall manuka scrub. The tea beach, he felt sure, would offer firmer, faster travelling. Pushing along as fast as bejcould dorivn the'West bank of the Whakatane, Taranahi camo at last to the Crim" stream ahd the small Ngati Awa settlement th'at squatted upon its Southern bank. It was yet early, but women were at work in the patches of cultivation and a Mozen men, preparing for a dav of fishing) looked up. surprised, from the launching of their canoes, as Taranahi raced toward them.

** Grit to your pa (fort) at once.” Taranahi hailed, as he drew near; “Te Kooti and a strong war narty have left Rnatoki to attack the Valiev settlements. T ride to bring .the white troops.” Th e Ngati Awas, men, wonpen and children, ran towards him excitedly, but he would not wait to talk. . “ Put me across the river on the sandhills.” be commanded. ‘‘-There is much need of haste.” He stepped into a canoe and drew his horse, a powerful swimmdr, into the water alongside the narrow craft. “ Now two mon to the other side.” he ordered. “Good! Yon must paddle Iv. or mv swimming’horse on this side will pull the bow round against you.” While thev were crossing the stream, the two paddlers dipping swiftlv on one side, the good horse, held by Taranahi, striking out boldlv on the other, distantly they heard a single sharp report.

“ It is the first shot of the battle.” Taranahi’ muttered. “Be strong, friends;

there is need of hurry for c you and for me.' ) drove slowly • across 1 thte sluggish stream. The Orini ,is a .very curious river. The swift Rangitaiki, rushing down from the.inland mountains through dark, sprayspattered gorges, Tails upon the Plain that js 4n extension of dhe Valley -of the Whakatane. The river runs oceanwards, till it meets the tnile-wide waste of sandhills that hedge l it off from the sea*, then Swingstat' right angltes and becomes the lazy Orini. this new guise, it flows lazily, between the white hills of'shifting wind-bjown sand and the green Plain’s ,rim for pbomt miles,'tilf it drops into the Whakatane, Rist above the port towq. Taranahi proposed to land pn the seaward bank of the Orini and ride across? the sanid dunes to the hard Ocean beach where, he kneVv, he would be able .to travel fairly fast. :

The, young man sprang from the capoe as the prow’ touched the bank and the chestnut) his shining sides all. glistening wet, scrambled ashore beside his master. The two; Ngati Awas, wishing- the traveller a; lucky journey, turned, abosut in the canoe And drove back -in. all’ haste to pick up their families. They desired above everything, to lose no : time in getting ail •their dear ..opes within ’ the security of Whakatane-pa. ..It was a sharp pinch of 80ft of slippipg powdery . saiid. to .redc.h the crest of fhe nearest dune and. thO led’horse made heavy work , of’the climb. Man and beast ; were .blowing heavily when thev reached the summit. Taranahi saw Ahead, beyond the clutter of dunes, the blue glitter of the Pacific, > with hump-backed White Island in the foreground and in'the-far sea-dis- ■' tance, 28 miles away, a great black fan of sulphur-laden smoke that tpld where volcanic White Island, safety valve of the whole , East Coast, \yas blowing off a full head of steam-7000ft into the air. As Taranahi paused "to allow his winded horse to regain its breath, ttbere.- came 'a short- burst of firing from the direction' of Te Pororiu, then -scattered, intermittent shots. ‘

“ Hold them iHohrji,’* he pleaded, frowning with anxiety. ‘“Hold them while =1 hurry.” 'He mounted hurriedly and the chestnut slithered down.tlie slippery slope, ploughing forward, sometimes Lock-deep in the sand. They came down into a sandv valley, with . a hard wind-riffled floor, strewn with boulders of pumice and for a -'time they made good progress. It was a blind valley, however, and there were mor e hills of sand to. climb <.nd still more beyond. Again Taranahi dismounted and led his plunging: hotse •to the dune-top, wherie, curiously, shrubs and coarse gl-ass grew. The crest was all wet: a strong spring of water had forced its way up and found escape at the very, summit of this unpribmising hill, of sand. More distantly now, dulled by. the nearer thud of the breakers, he heard spasmodic firing He mounted again to slide' down the sdaAvard slope to the.next send valley. The horse had shown signs of disapproval bf the difficult going, fretting at the restraining reins and plunging excitedly on the inclines. .Of a sudden it seemed to lose all raeson, and though Taranahi strove with all his strength to'check him the fright-ened.-animal dashed down the slope at breathless speed, plunging savagely. As it chanced, >their ■ path led through an ancient Maori burial rround that -th e winds of centuries had almost bared!. In -his wild nlungings the chestnut’s forelegs striick down into an old, forgotten grave. The fearmaddened animal turned completely dvter and Taranahi, good rider- though he was, was sent flying through' the air. While he was in the very act of' violently descending, the youth’s ears caught the sound r>f an ominous • sharp citack. Then bis .head crashed into a pumice boulder and for. a space, he lay;there stunned. When,, slowly, consciousness began to flow back) the first sight that met Tarhnahi*s eyes was a grinning sun- ■ bleached skull,’that had been bared by the unkindly .Winds. He stared at the gruesome relic ' unhappily, seeing in it an omen of disaster. His head was throbbing violently, but he shambled to his feet to learn how the horse hAd fared. The animal still-lay prone upon its side and into flash Tara nahi was beside the stricken animal. His heart was like lead within him, for, as he realised fully, upon his ability to travel far and fast, depended the lives of Monika and afl his- people. The -chestnut’s labouring sides rose and fell swiftly ; his breath came sobbingly as if he were in the strip of desperate pain. The hind legs threshed weAkty : the forelegs, 'bent sharply under the Fiodv, were deer: in the old grave. “ Broken.” Taranahi said dully, after n brief examination. “ He will never travel again.” Blood and froth were dripping from the expanded nostrils. Taranahi hesi-

tated no longer. A merciful bullet ended the animal’s suffering. The roar Of the gun crashed in the man's ears as the knell of all his hopes on earth. He sat -down heavily, glowering at the mocking skull, while he considered whether he should risk going back for another horse or go forward on foot.

A faint tattoo of firing, distant, yet very plain of meaning, -made his decision and he spraiig 'up -hastily. It was too late to go back. He must travel on ’ foot and try to get another horse at Matata or nearer if possible, though he knew that the beach was lonely. Slinging his rifle, he ran swiftly across the hard valley floor, then climbed the last- sand ridge above the beach.

On the crest die - paused a second or two for breath and, looking back, saw that already a riotous. flock of brown sea hawks were gathering -above thr dead horse for the unexpected feast. He turned bitterly away and scrambled down to the beach. There was a long hard journey ahead and everv unnecessary ounce of weight would delay him. Therefore he hid his rifle and ammunition in a jilace, where, returning,, he could find' it, cut off a chunk of meat—for he had eaten nothing since the night before—and commenced to run.

The youth kept near the fringe of breakers along the hard-packed sand and with long, easy strides, set himself doggedly to eat up the wearv miles that lay between him and rescue. When breath failed and trembling muscles flagged, he thought <of dainty Monika And her visions of darkness and flogged himself to fresh exertions. He plunged along,, his will sending.-insistent orders to his wavering feet to move faster. It was high nopn, but a mist swam-before his eyes and in this, with foreboding heart, he saw the horrid spectre of the leering skull of the sandhills, seeming to mock his misfortunes.

He came at last, far-snent. to the angry mouth of-lhe Tarawera River and ran upstream along the bank to gain room for a slant across. Plunging in 'and using the current skilfully, he sloped across and clawed out, exhausted, on the farther bank. From here it was onlv a short distance t-o the-sea-bluffs of Matata, where he expected to find Eric and his friends, or; dt the least, horses in the Maori settlementBut, as'it seemed to'him. the curse-.qf the disturbed skull had settled on unhappy Taranahi. He came, well after noon.’to the village by the sea. where a hold promontory of the inland hills, marches down to divide two fertile plains. At first he could find: nobody. There seemed no trace of life in the abandoned settlement. A frantic search among the houses roused a blind qld bfeldame, who vnumbled incoherently and paid but small heed to the stranger’s eager questioning. In his anger and disappointment. Taranahi ebook her vigorously and then the old dame gave a reluctant, attention to his demands. Yes, she admitted, there’ were white men, three white mien. But they had gone out, taking the men of the clan with them. Horses? The men had’them all. The' women ? Who knew where Uiey were —up in the hills perhaps, to gather wood or grubs, the fat white grubs She smadeed her lips noisily in anticipation of the dainty and, disgusted. Taranahi left her to mumble toothlessly. Bcvond the village, in a bayin the cliffs, he came upon a swarm of small children, playing at warfare in a mimic font. -Thev stopped hastily at the sight of the stranger, and Taranahi singled out a lad of nine who seemed to be the leader in the battle. “Te Kooti has come to Whakatane.” Taranahi tried to drive the menace of it ■home to the,child. ‘‘He will kill them all there, then cpme here. I -want a horse to take me to Tauranga for soldiers. Quick! A horse, the fastest horse you have.” ‘‘ The men have taken all the horses away.” The boy shook his head doubtffully. “There is only my old pony left and he is too —”

“ Where is he?” Taranahi demanded eagerly. “ Bring him at once and —” he paused to think of a sufficiently tempting recompense—“ you ’shall have -a rifle of vour .own when we have driven off Te Kooti.” “Will it be a good gun?” The prospective warrior- was decidedly interested. “A new gun, of. the best niake, and fifty cartridges.’’ Taranahi' promised : '“.lf thou art quick.” Without further ado,'the lad flung himself up a cliff-track that would have bothered a goat. “ He will ride down over there.” The children, forgetting their play in the greater garrie afoot, pointed to the inland level land ahead. It was an ancient steed that the small youth rode down from the hills, stumpy-legged, low-bodied, with a long, unkempt tail that almost brushed the ground. It had no saddle and only, a tattered headstall of worn flax, but its legs were sound and Taranahi mounted thankfully. “ I will come back with thy horse,” he called, ‘’and the gun shall be yours. Tell the white men and your people when they rriturn, that Te Kooti attacks Whakatane and Taranahi has gone for help.” “T will tell them,” the lad Called back. “-Forget not the cartridges thou promised.’* Despite his worn ap]>earance, the pony was wiry'and game. It was over-weighted —Taranahi’s toes almost touched the ground—but with due encouragement, freely given, and one short rest, to let it roll, legs up, in the grass beside the track, thev kept going steadily. Still, spite of all his efforts, it was long after dark when Taranahi drew near Tauranga. “ Where is Mair ?” he called to the challenging sentry. “ To Kooti attacks Whakatane. I want Mair.” He was passed back from man to man, .and eventuallv reached the tent where Mair slept. The Maori was utterly exhausted, but the fear that gnawed at his heart kept him up, and he told his story in few and hurried words. “ I saw them muster in Ruatoki at dawn,” he finished. “More than 500 men. all armed. From the sandhills, I heard the guns of their attack.” Wait here.” Mair answered. “ Rest a while ou my bed while I go tell the

commander and we make ready to march. ’’

In spite of his crushing anxiety, Nature asserted her -mastery and Taranahi was asleep, almost before Mair had left the tent. The deep sleep of exhaustion, mercifully free from torturing dreams, closed his eyes and led him” borne on soft clouds, into the deeps of Blessed Valley of Forgetfulness. No white man realised the peril of the situation more clearly than Lieutenant Gilbert Mair, and he'strove with all his might to make the authorities see it also. Above and beyond the danger to the folk lie knew and liked, was the greater menace of what success would be for the brown prophet of slaughter. His mana (prestige) would be mightily increased: in another breath the wrole country might be in flames. Unfortunately those” in authority failed to realise the gravity of the matter. Before they could send any troops they must communicate with the authorities in Auckland. There had been so many idle rumours. T e Kooti, broken alter Ngatapa, could not be really dangerous. In the morning, perhaps— Mair turned away bitterly angry, yet impotent. Baffled and chafing, lie strode back to his tent. Deep breathing and an occasional groan from the darkness inside told him that the weary messenger slept—but now less restfully. The young officer, his heart very troubled, 'stood there listening, intently. Then “ Monika ! Monika !’’ the youth called sobbingly. <A picture of the laughing Maori maiden and stout Jean of the mill 1 swam mistily before the white man’s eyes, and he thought nothing of the politics of the thing, but only of the lives in direst peril. "By God!” he cried grimly. “I’ll go at once, if I have to' go alone and count on rousing the Maoris on the road.” He seized iiis rifle and two belts of cartridges, ran to the horse lines, saddled and mounted his black horse.

“ Tell them I’ve gone after Te Kooti,” he called to the sentry at the outpost. And for the love of God get them to send some troops along without more delay.”

At a hard canter, he was off into the night, leaving an excited sentry to tell of his unauthorised departure. Taranahi woke an hour aft-er Mair had gone, and all his torturing anxiety rushed back upon him. . Seeing no sign of Mair, he stumbled out into the da'rkness. He Jearched through the' village, but no one was astir, and, in despair, he came at last to the outpost, where he knew there would be men on guard. " He’s gone after Te Kooti, all by his flttle ; self,” -the sentry told -the Maori. ‘ He’ll be murdered, or cashiered, one or t’other, for certain.”

Without a word, Taranahi slipped back to his reluctant, pony- Where Mair went, there would he go. * Salvation for Monika lay, not in sleeping Tauranga, but with the fearless white man, who, alone, had gone to fight, and chase Te Kooti.

CHAPTER XI.—“LA MARSEILLAISE.” There was no immediate reply to Jean's first successful shot. Evidently the dead toa (brave), whose body quivered slightly ‘ as the Frenchman watched, was a forerunning scout sent out alone to spy out the defences. -Well, Jean reflected grimly, as he reloaded rand stood obervant for another snap-shot, he had learnt that there was a marksman in the mill. While he stood thus, watching keenly every move of leaf or branch, Monika ran across' the plank from tlic redoubt, carrying Jean's breakfast arid a bottle of wine. “ Watch thou a little for me, ’Nika,” the Frenchman begged, bolting his meal hurriedly. “ Call me at once if thou 4see any sign of the enemy. The thought has come to me that we have far too much powder and lead in the mill. There is enough and to spare in the redoubt, and if —which the bon Dieu forbid—l ’am forced to leave the mill, I do not want all those cartridges to become the property of Monsieur the Lame Prophet. Watch, then, 1 ’Nika, while I dig a hiding place in the floor, then stamp the ground hard again.” He ran below, dug a hole in the earth floor, anti, after burying several boxes of ammunition that had been left-him when previously a detachment of troops had built the redoubt, rammed and stamped the floor all hard again. “If they take the mill, w’hich I wager will cost some lives, arid then can find this pretty treasure trove, parbjeu! they will have deserved every last round of lit.” he muttered U’ith satisfaction. “Ha I There speaks my little 'Nika. What luck, cherie?” At the sound of the shot from the upper stores* he was i the ladder like a cat, calling encouragement to the girl. Monika, her eyes blazing with excitement, was reloading as he ran up to her. “ What luck, cherie?” he called again. “In the arm. I think.: Hoa '. I fired too hurriedly.” Monika rubbed her shoulder ruefully when she had handed the heavy, two-barrelled gun to its rightful owner. “That pu (gun) of thine kicks with the strength of an untamed colt.”

“ It was not made for little shoulders like thine, ’Nika.” Jean peered cautiously through a loophole near the window. “ They arc Slanting a shelter trench put from that scrub, but they keep well under cover. Go back to the redoubt, ma petite, and a word in thine ear. Say nothing to anyone of the buried cartridges. The fewer know of it the better ill the secret be kept. Ila! mes amis. I see you now. Three hundred yards and a few more for good luck, and fair measure and no breath of wind. Slip back at once, ’Nika, and bid Tautari be ready. They have a covering party for the diggers. When they have fired their volley we must toss a hunch of lead at their inquiring heads. Tell Tautari so to do.'*

A dozen rifles cracked from the edge of the scrub. A pane in the window fell, shattered to bits, on the floor, and two buliets thudded through into the farther wall. Then Jean’s' rifle spoke, and two shots rang out from the redoubt. Monik i, had slipped hurriedly down and across to the redoubt with Jean’s message. “ Through the head,” Jean muttered cheerfully. “ ’Twas all I saw, but more than plenty for the Uauhau.” He loaded rapidly, and stood waiting for another shot. “ God is very good,” he thought aloud. “ No man, white, brown, or yellow,, can see save when his head lifts up, and of all places in the six foot of him the head is the sweetest, surest mark. Now they fire again.”. He dropped down behind an iron screen against the wall that he had dragged to stand below his . loophole. “If I am quick and God is good 1 shall drop two of them this journey,’’ ha reflected, as he crouched, waiting for the sound of the enemy's volley. “They will soon get sense to fire singly instead of together, and their 1 will have to take chances. While they ask for it like this ’tis not for a man who fought under I’ciissier to deny them all the lead the;- need.” Crack! Crack ! Crack-crack-crack 1 rang the reports, and Jean was on I.i« feet, peering at the drift of smoke from the scrub. A brown face glared out mistily, then another, and still more. Twice, with

hardly a perceptible interval, Jean's rTfle roared. The line of heads was hurri uly

withdrawn—all but two that had fallen forward, ar ' lolled upon the open ground. One of these was suddenly jerked back. Evidently someone in th' scrub had seized the legs of the dead man, and hauled the body into cover. Hastily, Jean snatched up his spare gun, and waited for the other head to move. At the first twitch he fired above it into the screen of bushes. There was a surprised screech of pain, and the exposed head lay still, the arms that belonged to it still feebly clawing at the ground. “ ’Twas a blind shot, but none so far from something tender.” Jean voiced approval as he loaded his two guns. “Parblcu! But the smell of powder makes one thirsty.” He ran to the bottle of wine Monika had brought him, and drew the cork. “To a warm fight aal a. fiery finish for all your braves, Monsieur le Prophet. May they always have a hot

welcome in this world, and a hotter one in the next.’ He drank the toast heartily, recorked the bottle, then lugged his iron shield to another loophole. “It will be better if I fire from different loopholes,” he mutered as he pulled. “ Then, who knows, perhaps they may think we have a brigade of sharpshooters here.” lie proceeded forthwith to vary the places from which he shot, now to the right, now to the left, now aloft, and next downstairs, doing it all with such bewildering rapidity that he achieved his purpose. The attackers were entirely misled, and right through that day of battle held the belief that the mill was garrisoned by at least a score of the most deadly shots in the English army.

By noon the attackers had completed a line of shallow rifle-pits. They had suffered some casualties, both among the sappers and those who covered the work, while none of the defenders had been touched. From a western window of the mill Jean had seen Te Kooti’s main force in dense formation advance with earthshaking tread upon Rauparoa pa. The front ranks held up a great white flag, but spite thi.s emblem of truce the whole force, loaded guns held at the ready, pressed on towards the south gate of the pa.

In a lull of the firing from the scrub—the snipers there were also watching the drama of the pa across the river—Jean, with sinking heart, saw the rebel march press almost to the gateway. There was a scuffle among the defenders inside. Several pointed to the white pennon, and evidently desired to open tliC gate, and' treat with the men from the hills. “ Mon Dicu! But they are fools,” he shouted angrily. “If those devils get inside, you will all be killed down to the last snarling dog in the-pa! Ha! That is better. Well done, mon brave, well done. Now close the gate securely.” A credulous old man inside the pa was struggling to unbar the gate, and the leading files of Tc Kooti’s men were almost in when a young chief, Taranahi’s cousin, caught the betraying arm >f the foolish old man, and tried to thrust him aside. “ Well done, young gamecock,” Jean roared delightedly. “ Throw the old fool down, then bar the gate.” While the two men inside tussled there came an interruption that made the Ngati Pukeko realise the treacherous nature of the fluttering emblem of peace brandished by the mountaineers. An Urcwcra. impatient of' the delay, thrust his rifle through the gate, and fired at the young chief. The bullet missed its mark, but hit the credulous old pacifist. “ A timely shot,” Jean chuckled, as he —atched the now thoroughly-roused people of the pa double-bar the gate, and line the w: ’ls of their stockade. “He sighted on the lion and brought down the donkey, which is very neat shooting—for a blind man who has never seen a gun before. Now blaze into them from the walls, you braves of Rauporoa.” The sharp volley from the walls, he saw with glee, cut down the staff of the flag of treachery, and several Hauhaus fell while racing in some confusion for the shelter of a brush hut that stood nearby in th* cent?’! of the cultivations surrounding the pa. (To be continued.)