CHAPTER XXI

O'ERCLOUDED SKIES

There was no session of Parliament between April, 1858, and the end of July, 1860, and the colonists were consequently justified in believing that the machinery of Government was moving smoothly throughout the Islands, and that the chief engineers required no help from their subordinates. Had they been told that they stood upon the dividing line between peace and war; had they been told that it required but one forward step in order to plunge them into a strife which should endure almost without intermission for just so many years as the peace they had enjoyed, they would have laughed in their informant's face.

From the earliest days certain tribes had maintained an attitude of reserve towards the Pakeha. If the white intruders chose to found a settlement or two on the coast and remain there, well and good; the Maori might find their presence useful commercially and for purposes of war. It was another matter when the strangers absorbed the land, divided the country into provinces, and founded not only capital cities, but numbers of smaller towns and villages as well. If this sort of thing were to go on, the Maori might as well evacuate the island at once; for, as Heke had said to the Governor, "If you take our land, where are we to go?"

This was the view taken by the Waikato, one of the most famous and most warlike of the Maori _iwi_, who about the year 1848 formed a Land League, which they strove to induce the other tribes to join. The leading principle of the League was obstinate refusal to sell land under any conditions to the Pakeha.

Confined to the Waikato alone, this movement would have been serious enough, threatening, as it did, to preserve in the midst of the Pakeha settlements numerous fierce and resolute men, opposed to the domination of Britain. When other tribes associated themselves with the founders of the League, it should have been evident that some day, and before long, white and brown must stand foot to foot to decide which was to be for ever supreme.

It mattered not to the Leaguers that the Government desired them to participate in the beneficent legislation designed on behalf of their countrymen. If they were to be governed at all, they preferred to choose the means and the way. To this end they devised a grotesque scheme, blending British institutions with the monarchical system of the ancient Jews. This done, they elected a king, called a "parliament," hoisted the flag which William the Fourth had granted to the "United Tribes of New Zealand," and inscribed it "Potatau, King of New Zealand."

Ridicule might have killed the movement, had it stopped there; but danger loomed very near when the irreconcilable chief of the "Boiling Water" tribes, Iwikau Te Heu Heu, demanded total separation between the two races, pointing to his great ancestor, the slumbering volcano, Tongariro, as the centre of a district through which no road should be made, where no white man should settle, and wherein Queen Wikitoria should not be prayed for.

Governor Browne held, notwithstanding, that "Kingism" should be allowed to die a natural death, and most unwisely repealed the Act which Sir George Grey had brought in, which prevented the sale of arms to natives. It was not until six months after this unaccountable step, by which time the Maori had acquired several thousand stand of arms, that the Governor listened to the anxious settlers and made the purchase of guns and ammunition somewhat more difficult by increasing the duty upon them. The whirlwind of the wind thus sown was to be reaped later; but the immediate result was a series of small civil strifes between different tribes during the years 1857 and 1858.

Peace was still unbroken when 1859 came in, nor did the colonists even then pay much attention to the mutterings of the Land Leaguers or the growls of the King party. Yet they were really sitting over a powder magazine, and a very small spark must at any moment cause a terrible explosion.

Before the explosion comes, let one last word be said regarding the attitude of the contending parties towards one another.

Every one knows the shocking story of the retreat of the red men before the advance of civilisation, during which deeds were done, not once, not twice, but over and over again, upon both sides which cannot be named for the horror of them. We have not always been too careful of the black man's rights in Africa, and when he has turned upon us in his despair, have smitten him hip and thigh, decimating his tribe, burning his kraal and laying waste his fields.

The Maori experienced little, indeed, of this in comparison with those others. Misunderstanding there was, and some, perhaps, were too quick to judge. Misunderstanding added to hasty judgment led to strife; but that strife, keen as it was, and bitter too, sometimes, was never a combat _à outrance_.

Pakeha and Maori met and fought, slew and were slain, won or lost. Feeling now and again ran very high, the Maori smarting under a sense of loss and injustice, the Pakeha furious at some treacherous murder. Then there were reprisals. Such lamentable happenings there were; but at no time, not in the very depth of the war, existed generally that intense bitterness of spirit, that fierce racial jealousy, that consuming hatred, which distinguished the conflict between Paleface and Redskin. As the limits of the Pakeha's territory were extended, at no time did there arise such a band of bloody murderers as the "Indian Runners" of the western frontier of the United States. With these men it was an abiding principle to shoot an Indian on sight, innocent though he might be of any deed of blood. The strongest article in the creed of the Runner was, "There is only one good Injun, and that's a dead Injun."

Nothing like this wicked spirit ever animated the white community in New Zealand. One might almost say that they waged war in generous mood, and there were certainly instances of extreme generosity and high-mindedness on the Maori side. Where in the world in a campaign against "savages" has one heard of the savage calling a warning to his white foe? Yet this is what the Maori did. "Go back, Toby!" they cried to Lieutenant Phillpotts at Oheawai. "Lie down, icky-fif; we're goin' to shoot!" they frequently shouted to the soldiers of the 65th Regiment, who had somehow gained their regard. Where in the world will you hear of converted "savages," having been taught the sanctity of the Sabbath, respecting the same when at war with their instructors? Yet this is what the Maori did. Remember the _pa_ of Ruapekapeka! Great and simple souls! What must have been their feelings when a volley from those who had taught them the holy lesson laid many of them low? There is no implication intended that the Maori were uniformly chivalrous and the Pakeha uniformly the opposite--the records of the war would never justify such,--but it ought not to be difficult for the civilised white man to be generous and chivalrous, whereas such instances as those just quoted are probably unique in the annals of war between the white and the coloured races.

The wars in New Zealand had for the most part their origin in agrarian questions, and were concluded by diplomatic negotiations. They were not--nor was it ever contemplated that they should be--wars of extermination. The Pakeha strove by means more or less legal, if not legitimate, to push the Maori from the soil on which their feet had been firmly planted for six hundred years. The old owners resented the attempt and, in some instances, the manner in which the attempt was made. When argument was exhausted, then, and then only, came the final appeal to arms, and a war resulted which has brought about lasting peace.

When the war began there were 170,000 whites in New Zealand, while the Maori population was reckoned at 32,000, of whom about 20,000 were available as fighting men. Remember, the Maori of 1859 were very different from even their immediate forebears. Cannibalism was as extinct as the _moa_. The intelligent natives had recognised the value of the Pakeha methods and studied them with advantage. Many possessed their own holdings, farmed their own ground, and progressed in the education which was freely offered them. There were Maori assessors in the Courts of the Superintendents, and a Maori chief was attached to the Governor's staff as adviser on purely native questions. The two races were distinctly drawn to one another about this period, and the white portion at any rate hardly looked for trouble.

What gave the colonists an added sense of security was their knowledge that the great leaders of the past were all dead, or nearing their end. Heke had died of consumption in 1850. Te Rauparaha preceded him to Reinga in 1849, being buried by his son, Thompson Rauparaha, who had been educated in England and was a lay-reader. Rangihaeata helped to bury his old friend, and followed him seven years later to the shades, having never during the whole of his seventy years abated his hatred of the Pakeha.

Rangihaeata was a man of great strength and splendid presence, and it is told that, when on one occasion he met Sir George Grey at a _korero_, or palaver, his costume was entirely and markedly Maori, in contrast to that of many of his countrymen, who wore blankets instead of mats, or were clothed in ordinary European dress. In reply to the Governor, Rangihaeata assumed his proudest, sternest expression, and spoke defiantly. "I want nothing of the white men," he concluded, and, with a sneer at his compatriots, "_I_ wear nothing of their work." Sir George smilingly indicated a peacock's feather which surmounted the chief's carefully dressed hair. "Ah! True; that is European," said Rangihaeata with vehement scorn, plucking the feather from his hair and casting it on the ground.

Of the rest of the stern warriors who had been in grips with the Pakeha, Pomare was dead, Te Tanewha was gone to join the long line of his ancestors, and Waka Nene, their reliable friend, was growing old. In the opinion of many the great past had died with the dead heroes, and was dead for ever.

It was in November, 1859, that Governor Gore Browne arrived at Taranaki and announced that, if any native had land to sell, along with a good title, he was there to buy for the Crown. A Maori named Teira--the nearest approach he could make to "Taylor"--offered to part with six hundred acres at Waitara, and this block the Governor agreed to buy, if Teira's title were proved good. The Commissioner was satisfied as to the title; surveyors were sent to mark boundaries, and were promptly ordered off by Wiremu Kingi Te Rangitake (William King), the chief of Teira's tribe, who had already declared that he would not allow the land to be sold.

Governor Browne was a soldier, and diplomacy was not for him. He at once sent a force to compel Wiremu Kingi to withdraw his opposition, and these found the Maori strongly entrenched, and quite willing to take up the gage of battle.

The Taranaki settlers retired with the soldiers to New Plymouth, and the Maori ravaged the settlement, which extended twenty miles north and south, and eight or ten inland. The fighting which followed during the ensuing months was chiefly remarkable for the first appearance of the colonial force in the field, where they then and afterwards did such good work.

For most obvious reasons--were they known--the writer would be the last to disparage the regular forces; but they were hampered by method, and the bush fighting of the Maori was a style of warfare to which they were quite unused. Not a few, without intending disrespect to the regular forces, strongly hold that, had the conduct of military operations been left to McDonnell, Von Tempsky, Whitmore, Atkinson, and a few others, they, with their militia and volunteers, would have brought the war to a successful close in half the time, at half the cost, and with infinitely less loss to their own side. For these fought the Maori in the Maori style, and the natives feared these men, who knew them and the bush, with a fear they never felt for the redcoats, whom, in their queer way, they often expressed themselves sorry to be obliged to shoot.

One example will show the difference in method. General Cameron, a man of great experience--elsewhere--and proved courage, one day in 1865 marched from Whanganui with drums beating, colours flying, and bands playing, at the head of as gallant a company of regulars and volunteers as ever went out to war. After a march of fifteen miles they came to the lake of Nukumaru, five miles from the rebel _pa_ of Wereroa, and here the General gave orders to encamp.

At this, Major Witchell, who was in command of the military train, most of his men being mounted colonials, rode up and said, with a salute, "General, don't you think that we are rather too near the bush?"

General Cameron glanced towards the bush, distant half a mile, the interval being covered with high _toë-toë_, a grass something like that called "pampas," and replied, "Do you imagine, Major, that any number of natives would dare to attack two thousand of Her Majesty's troops?"

The Major thought it very likely; but he could say no more. He was confident that there were Maori in the bush, and the high grass offered excellent cover to such skilled guerilla. He probably realised also how much depended upon his own initiative, for, though he ordered his men to dismount, he bade them not offsaddle.

Suddenly the roar of musketry broke out, and the _toë-toë_ was violently agitated as the Maori, still unseen, dodged hither and thither. That one discharge accounted for sixteen men, among them Adjutant-General Johnston, a capable officer; but, thanks to Major Witchell, that was the sum of the disaster.

"Mount!" he shouted, and his men, riding as they knew how to ride, chased the Maori back into the bush, save thirty-six who lay dead among the grass to balance the account of the sixteen. How narrow was the General's own escape is shown by the fact that a Maori was shot hard by his tent, in the centre of the camp. It was not until he had allowed himself to be surprised again next day and lost five more men that General Cameron concluded that the bush was too close, and that the Maori would actually attack two thousand of Her Majesty's troops.

This incident belonged to a later stage of the war. We are still with the troops in Taranaki, in the autumn of 1860, when General Pratt, who had arrived to take command, was about to besiege one of the Maori strongholds in the orthodox manner.

Before this could be done, a truce was negotiated by the Christian Waikato chief, Wiremu Tamihana Te Whaharoa (William Thompson), who represented the King faction. Waikato had sent a contingent to the aid of Taranaki--in the old days it would have been very different--although they had no personal interest in the dispute; but these had been repulsed with loss, and it was then that Tamihana suggested a truce. This was in May, 1861, fourteen months after the Governor's soldiers had marched against Wiremu Kingi.

Men were everywhere satisfied that nothing more would come of this year of skirmishing, and few, if any, regarded it as preliminary to a long and dreadful war. Things fell again into their places; three new provinces--Hawke's Bay or Napier, Marlborough and Southland--were added to the rest, the Bank of New Zealand was incorporated, and only those within the innermost circle knew that underneath the seeming calm was deep-rooted unrest.

But so it was. Governor Browne demanded, very much in the imperative mood, the submission of all concerned in the late rising, and a general oath of allegiance to the Crown. The Maori said neither yea nor nay; they simply did nothing. Whereon the Governor, wroth at their contumacy, declared his intention to invade Waikato and bring the insolent rebels to their knees. It is hard to see how one who has never taken an oath of allegiance can be a rebel; but that may pass.

The colonists who heard the Governor's fulmination could not believe their ears, called his attention to the state of unpreparedness throughout the colony, and urged that to invade Waikato would be to invite an alliance of the sympathisers with that powerful tribe against the British. But the Governor had the power, believed that he had the means, and reiterated his determination.

At this critical juncture Britain intervened to give her youngest child breathing time. Sir George Grey, Governor of Cape Colony, was instructed to proceed to New Zealand, and there resume the reins of government; and, when Governor Browne understood this, he held his hand, much to the relief of the colonists.

For the next two years Governor Sir George Grey tried by every means short of war to bring about a peaceful solution of the difficulty which had arisen out of the Waitara block of land. He had the powerful aid of Bishop Selwyn; but all was useless, for the Waikato declined to submit the question to arbitration. And then the face of the situation was suddenly changed, and the natives placed entirely in the wrong.

The district of Tataraimaka, fifteen miles south of New Plymouth, had been for fifteen years in undisputed possession of European settlers, even the Maori admitting their title to be good. The natives had ravaged this block during the trouble of 1860-1861 and, as they now refused to withdraw from it, Sir George Grey cut the knot of the difficulty by declaring his intention to abandon all claim to the Waitara block and to drive the Taranaki tribes out of Tataraimaka. Sir George never allowed "I dare not" to "wait upon I would," and the military were soon on their way.

Confident of the support of the Waikato, the men of Taranaki sent to the king's headquarters for instructions. The answer came back at once, sternly laconic: "Begin your shooting!"

An escort party were ambushed on the 4th of May, 1863, and the Taranaki began their shooting by murdering--for war was not declared--Lieutenant Tragett, Dr. Hope, and five soldiers of the 57th Regiment. Apart from this, the Waikato showed their determination to stand shoulder to shoulder with the Taranaki tribes and force a contest.

Only a month earlier Mr. (afterwards Sir John) Gorst, resident magistrate in the heart of the Waikato country, had been expelled by the leaders, and the printing-press whence he had issued literature opposed to Kingism seized. The Waikato had a press of their own, which had been presented to them by the Emperor of Austria, and they issued a news-sheet which they called _Hokioi_, after a fabulous bird of great power. Mr. Gorst, on his side, published the _Pihohoi_, which is the name of a tiny lark; and, as the principles of "The Lark" were dead against Kingism, the king's men suppressed the paper with an alacrity worthy of Russian censors.

The King party immediately after this came into direct conflict with Sir George Grey himself. Marching in force to a spot on the lower Waikato upon which Sir George proposed to build a court-house and police barracks, the malcontents hurled all the ready-fitted timbers into the river, declaring the district outside British jurisdiction.

After this exhibition of power and determination, the Waikato despatched war-runners in all directions to rouse the Maori and inspire them to "drive the Pakeha Rat into the sea." The runners carried a circular letter exhorting the natives to "sweep out their yard" and to remember the national _whakatauki_, or motto, "_Me mate te tangata me mate mo te whenua_" (the death of the warrior is to die for the land). "We will sweep out our yard," went on the letter, and concluded with a line from a stirring war-song, well known throughout the North Island: "Grasp firm your weapons! Strike! Fire!"

Though skirmishing was going on, neither side actually admitted being at war; but Auckland itself being threatened, General Cameron was hurriedly called north with every available man of his command.

A glance at the map will show that the Waikato river makes a bend where the Maungatawhiri creek falls into it, and then pursues a course almost due west to the sea. At this junction, some forty miles south of Auckland, and east of the river's mouth, was the frontier line of the defiant Waikato. The King tribes had long ago said that the crossing of this line would be regarded by them as a belligerent act, and when General Cameron, on the 13th of July, 1863, led his troops across it, the Waikato war began without any more formal notice.