The Wairau Massacre.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XLIV, Issue 25, 22 June 1910, Page 44

The Wairau Massacre.

THE SECOND WAR. So the Maoris got a fighting force together, not a very big force, it is true, only some 200 men in all, perhaps. "Whilst waiting for an opportunity of coming io grips with the Europeans, a “friendly” native came to the pah and imparted the information that Sir George Grey and General Cameron would be coming along on the next day, bound for Tataraimaka. The news caused a big stir, of course, and immediately a big korero was held, the ultimate decision being to intercept the party. Better, they said, “to start with the head of the tree,” alluding to Sir George Grey. To make sure of capturing this man, a rangitira amongst his own countrymen, an ambush was laid, a large party of Maoris concealing themselves

in the trees at the Wairau, near the beach. A sentry was posted a little towards New Plymouth to give notice of the approach of the party, but instead of the men they expected the Maoris suddenly found in front of them a number of soldiers coming in towards New Plymouth from the other direction. To the best of Hori Teira’s recollection, there were about ten men, with a couple of officers, bringing in a prisoner. “When these came right in amongst us we coudn’t let them go past. The word was given to fire, and the first volley knocked all but three down. These ran up against a sandhill, and Kelly managed to crawl away. Then all these yarns that I shot Dr Hope,” said our friend with great earnestness, “how could a man tell which of the forty of us killed any of those men? I don’t know how the Maori got the yarn at all.” The party from New Plymouth turned out to be only a transport, a couple of drays and provisions. When the firing commenced, the soldiers left the dray, and the Maoris later on got the dray and the flour and sugar. “That,” he continued, “was the start of the second war, which started again on all sides.” Support from the Kingites Then the chiefs sent a message to the King party, telling them that the fighting had been resumed by the Government, and asking what course they should adopt. The answer came, ’’Start to fight.” Then the tribes knew that they had a baeker, and prepared for business. The troops, it was explained, had been at Tataraimaka fully three or four weeks before any definite action by the Maoris was taken to rid that party of the country of the pakeha. They waited, and waited, expecting that the troops would come out from Kaitake, but they made no move. The Maoris chafed at this enforced inaction, and some of the young bloods started little expeditions on their own account. He was one of a force of a dozen who got clear of the camp unknown to the chiefs, and came overland to the neighbourhood of the Potuku redoubt, hoping to have a stray shot at the pakehas. But no opportunity presented itself. Another party of four came elose to the lines at New Plymouth one night. They were Tautahi, Taikamoko, Turn, and another. Taking advantage of the darkness they came right down to Shar-

land’s (near Bonithon), and rushed the house. Fortunately for the peace of the community, the house was empty. A Veteran’s Statement. Mr J. C. Davies, who was present at the interview, remarked that he had slept in the house the night previous to this attack, but he and the other lads were ordered not to stay there any more by night, owing to the information that had been brought concerning bands of Maoris prowling about by night. He was curious now to know how it was that the Maoris did not follow their usual custom and burn the house down. The reason given by this raconteur was that the Maoris were not anxious to make a big show and bring the garrison out after them. So they contented themselves with cutting down the flagstaff and stripping the walls of the calico which did duty as wall paper. Mr Davies said that he had always understood that the flight of this little band of marauders was hastened by a volley from Fort Murray, the officer in charge there seeing the lights about the house and knowing that the place was supposed to be unoccupied. “Yes, I believe there was something of that kind,” assented Mr Taylor. A Narrow Shave. Evidently the old saying that “Satan finds some mischief still for idle hands to do,” was as true of the Maori fifty years ago as it is of his white-skinned brother to-day, for next morning we find Tori Teira and his boon companions still on the look-out for mischief. They went down to Honeysuckle Hill, with a view of intercepting anyone passing between Oakura and Potuku. They laid an ambush there, and had not long to wait, for in about a-quarter of an hour’s time an officer approached on horseback. Had he kept on by the road, this portion of Teira’s life story would never have had to be told. The road would have brought him under the muzzles of the rifles of the Maoris who lay in wait on the top of a bank beneath which the road passed. But he struck off across the paddocks. When he came abreast of the ambuscade, all fired, and the horse fell. Immediately the Maoris, with the exception of the man who tells the story, cleared out, putting a decent distance between them and the Potuku redoubt as quickly as possible. This one exception jumped down into the cutting, tomahawk in hand, and made for the

prostrate man, who eaw him comings fired his revolver, and struck the Maori’s haversack. A Tohnnga i Advice. Here the narrative was broken to introduce one of the old Maori superstitions. “The first arm that you taka off the dead, give it away,” said tha wise old. man. “Don’t carry it. It will bring you bad luck. The second man you kill, it is all right. Take his gun, and use it.” Such was the advice given to all young warriors, and this superstition was so generally held as to have amounted to custom. “Now at Wairau, I had taken Lieutenant Hope’s watch and chain, ring, and rifle. I threw away my fowling-piece, and stuck to the rifle. I wouldn’t give it away. They all said afterwards that was the cause of me being knocked down that day.” Caught and Sentenced to Death. As I told you, I jumped down with the tomahawk in my hands, leaving the gun where I had been sitting. As soon as Waller’s revolver went off and hit my haversack I wae helpless. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t use my hands. I couldn’t move. Then the troops came and made me a prisoner. They gave me an awful knocking about. They found Lieutenant Hope’s rifle, and found the watch on me. Then they knew I had been at Wairau. The soldiers had a big fight over the gun. They brought me to the Court at New Plymouth and tried me for the murder of Lieutenant Hope. They said I was guilty, and I was condemned to be hanged.” The man related the story with the manner of a stoic. Not a twitch of muscle, either from unpleasant memories, or from fear of the moment. Then he smiled. “They sent me to Auckland to be hanged, but the Auckland people, they wouldn’t have me, and I was sent back to New Plymouth. Mr. Parris came to the gaol some time afterwards and read me a reprieve. He told me they wern’t going to hang me now, but would keep me till after the war was all over. So I stayed in gaol a long time. Sometimes I thought to run away. Then one day Robert Graham came to me. You know Robert Graham, the man who was on the Lord Worsley. He said to me, “I’m sorry to see you here. You saved my life. Your people were very good to me, and I’ll try and get you

©ff. But whatever you do, don’t try to run away.” I believe it was through him I got out so soon. “When you come out come to me,” said Mr. Graham, and I went to him at the Thames, and ■worked for Kim for about a couple of years. Made a Policeman “When I eame back here the Taranaki people didn't like to see me, for they knew I was one of the wildest of the Maoris. They didn’t want me to go baek amongst the tribes, so they gave me a job as a native policeman. When the native police broke up, they transferred me to the Armed Constabulary. I was sent down to Parihaka "with them, but told Parris and Rollestou that I didn’t want to go and knock my own people about. I asked to be allowed to leave the force, because my ■mother, my brother and all my relations were living in Parihaka. They refused me leave, and I applied for a transfer to another station. Then they sent me away from Parihaka.” Going back on his story, Teira said that when he was first arrested he was put into a tent, much bruised and very Bore all over from his rough handling by the soldiers. William Atkinson came to him and wanted him to say which was the best way to take Kaitake pah. He answered, “You find out for yourself.” Atkinson took out his revolver, and threatened to shoot him if he still refused the information. “I said, ‘Shoot me if you like; I won’t tell.’ Then they filled me up with gin, and Atkinson came up again, but he got nothing out of me. “I didn't like the idea of being Ranged. It was no murder. It isn’t as if it was not justified. I believe afterwards I was sentenced to life for attempting murder. I would rather have been shot than hanged. I knew flie Wairau affair was not my fault. I didn’t get up the war, but just joined in with the rest.”

lie added that now he was farming down at Pungarehu, and liked the peaceful life best. He is well respected by his neighbours, and few of the farmers around would believe that the pleasant and portly Mr. George Taylor, at present a prosperous farmer, was at one time in the forefront of those who offered themselves in misguided, but at times recklessly brave, attempts to hold against the pakehas the land which was theirs by right of conquest many generations before.