THE STORY OF AUCKLAND.

Auckland Star, Volume LIX, Issue 227, 25 September 1928, Page 6

THE STORY OF AUCKLAND.

SOLDIERS OF THE QUEEN.

TARAIA'S DEFIANCE. (By JAMES COWAN.) No. X. When the Scottish immigrants in the Duchess of Argyle and the Jane Gifford were farewelled at Greenock in 1842 a Presbyterian preacher assured them that they were going to a land flowing with milk and honey. If there were any among the two ships' passengers who accepted that pleasing Biblical metaphor in anything approaching a literal sense they were soon disillusioned when they set foot in raw new Auckland. And one of the uncomfortable facts they quickly learned was that they had coine to a land that had not yet emerged from the cannibal age. The talk of the day was Taraia's maneating raid on a Tauranga tribe and The contemptuous scorn with which the savage chieftain of the Waihou treated the pained remonstrances of the Government. In spite of the Treaty of Waitangi and the general desire of the Maori to have the pakeha as a neighbour and friend, tbere were certain elements that made for conflict between the two races. The white man was only in New Zealand on sufferance, and some of the very independent chiefs, old and young, did not hesitate to let him know that in plain terms. The pakeha was quite acceptable as a trader, a customer for Maori produce, and a supplier of the weapons and clothes and implements and luxuries of the European world that the aboriginal desired. But he was at the same time given to understand that any interference with immemorial native usage would be resented, and one of those cherished rights was the practice of exacting "utu" in revenge for injuries or for the satisfaction of an inter-tribal vendetta. The influence of the missionaries and of such far-seeing and benevolent men as Tamati Waka Nene in the North made for peace in the very early years of British Government, but a trial of strength was inevitable, and the first challenge came in 1842. Old Fort Britomart. At this period the sole British military force in New Zealand consisted of a hundred redcoats, a company of the 80th Regiment, commanded by Major Bunbury, who had arrived from Sydney in 1840. It was the middle of 1844 before any reinforcements were sent from Sydney, and that was only because Hone Heke was threatening at the Bay of Islands. Bunbury and his men had fixed their camp on Flagstaff point, as the pohutukawafringed headland between Commercial Bay (Horotiu) and Official Bay (Waiariki) was first called. The name was soon changed to Britomart Point, and then to Fort Britomart, after the historic man-of-war brig. The original Maori name of the point was Mai-o-ngakekea. It had been a fortified place of the ancient people, as the scrubgrown maioro or earth wall and broad trench on its landward side indicated. Its situation conveniently lent itself to defence, and Governor Hobson and Major Bunbury naturally selected it as a little citadel for the capital. Barracks of stone and timber were built for the troops; those buildings formed two sides of a square; one side was loopholed. Some naval guns were mounted on the seaward face and commanding the entrance, where a part of the Maori parapet had been thrown down to fill the ditch. A stone wall was built across the land side. The buildings were sufficient to accommodate two hundred men and stores and munitions. Later, the 00th and 58th Regiments completed the fortifications and more guns were emplaced. That was Auckland's earliest fortification, and it was there that, thirty years' later, some of Auckland's citizen soldiers were drilling at the heavy fortress guns of the old muzzle-loading make and the more modern small field pieces. It would have been perfectly easy to preserve it to this day; with its seaward cliff and some of its twisty-limbed pohutukawas it would have been Auckland's most historic monument. But in the 'eighties, when the craze for levelling down all the Auckland waterfront salients began, few people looked far enough into the future to recognise the need to save such monuments. That spirit of destruction was not peculiar to Auckland. The Wanganui corporation's demolition of the strongly-built Rutland Stockade, with its blockhouses, in the heart of the town, was an example of the widespread failure to appreciate either picturesque or historic values. A Cannibal Raid and Its Sequel. It was in the barrack square of Fort Britomart that Major Bunbury one day well on in 1842 mustered his company of the 80th, armed with their flintlock muskets —the Maoris by this time were acquiring double-barrel guns from the Sydney traders—for the first military expedition in New Zealand's life as a British colony. While the Major is telling off half the company for active service and marching them to the beach to embark in the Government brig Victoria for the Bay of Plenty, let us unravel something of the curious series of events responsible for the dispatch of such a force, a unit utterly inadequate for operations against the war-seasoned Maori. The trouble began, for one thing, with a dispute over shark-fishing rights at Kntikati. in the upper part of Tauranga Harbour, and for another, with Taraia's recollection of the fact that the Tauranga people had eaten his mother. The two long-standing grievances, or wrongs, were interlocked in a fashion peculiarly Maori, and the revival of the one gave an opportunity for avenging the old blood feud. Taraia Ngakuti, paramount chief of the Ngati-Tamatera section of the strong Ngati-Maru tribe, of the Thames and Ohinemuri, was a warrior of dread reputation, who had fought on the long trail with Rauparaha and other great leaders against the southern tribes, as far away as Kaiapoi and Akaroa, in the South Island. He was friendly enough with the white settlers, and with his canoe fleet he made trading expeditions to infant Auckland. But on the warpath he was of the "kai-tangata" breed, unmitigated by the pakeha code. One midnight Taraia and his war party stealthily surrounded the pa called Ongare, on a headland at Katikati, burst into the sleeping village, and dealt death and destruction. Thev killed Whanake, the chief, and some of his people, and retired triumphantly over the ranges to Ohinemuri, taking with them a number of prisoners as slaves. These unfortunates carried as back-loads flax baskets packed with the flesh of their slaughtered relatives, and presently there was feasting in the Ngati-Tamatera camps from Paeroa to _the Hauraki. Taraia's head-juartcrs were in Kauwaeranga, near the mouth of the Waihou River; and the story is that his gentle warriors amused themselves by rolling a severed head into the mission station nearby. A Futile Scolding. The Government was appealed to by the Tauranga tribe, Ngai-te-Rangi, and high authorities in Auckland discussed possible punitive measures. There was a remarkable proposal to serve a warrant on Taraia, presumably on a charge of murder, but it was dropped, as maxwell be imagined, when someone with a souse of humour wanted to know what would happen to the policeman who went into the Hauraki stockade with a summons. Presently the Government contented itself with sending an official to Kauwaeranga to reprove Taraia for his conduct. "What has the Governor to do with it?' , the warrior inquired with some pertinence. "Why should the Governor be so concerned about the Tauranga people? Did they not eat my mother?" With that irresistible "piece of logic, Taraia turned from the trifling matter of a British Government's annoyance and gave his attention to more important topics. The wily savage knew full well that no warship could approach the shallow mouth of the Waihou to <»hell his pa, and that his warriors would be more than a match for any landing force the Governor could send against him. So Taraia passes from the scene, and the trouble is transferred to others. I (To be continued.)