AN EPISODE OF THE TROUBLOUS TIMES.

Poverty Bay Standard, Volume I, Issue 45, 21 January 1884, Page 3

AN EPISODE OF THE TROUBLOUS TIMES.

Is the autiinin of 1870 some 230 to 300 of i the Ngatiporou tribe, under the command of Major Ropata. Waha Waha, Captain Porter, Chiefs Hotene Porourangi, Buka Aratapu, and others, marched into Clyde, Wairod, after a long and fatiguing expedition, during which they had Undergone great privations, and stacked arms in the one street of that, at that time (as now) not vary populous town, ship. A good deal of apprehension still ex. isted among the coast settlements, inastlidch as Te Kootl had not yet been driven nolens valent over the Waikato border, but yet roamed, erippled in resources truly, but still formidable, among the wild inland fastnesses, whence the expedition had just returned, Consequently, everything in Clyde remained a« formerly for years, in a Stats of preparedness for any sudden raid or daybreak onslaught as experienced by settlements Oil either hand (Mohakd and Tauranga). There were in garrison at Clyde redoubt some 30 oonstabulariy under Captain Macdonald, 30 or 40 at Te Kapu, contiguous post, under Captain Newland, militia, volunteers, *c. under Captain Taylor, the whole commanded by Major Cumming, a grand old soldier of the Crimea and India, for which he held medals, and star, cross of French Legion of Honor, Turkish Mejidee, &c.,&c. (as these well-earned decorations have to do with our episode I particularise them.) Well,—there were high jinks at Clyde. Ngatiporou had been paid, and Ngatiporou, like Jack ashore and Tommy Atkins, rarely visits the savings bank, There were buckets of beer, there were cases of grog around the stands of arms along the street, where the men bivouacked, under the bushes and scrub by the river side, beneath the shady manuka, under the toi toi bushes, anywhere, you would find Ngatiporou more or less inebriated, but perfectly good humoured, —while in front of each hotel (Harmer's and Taylor’s) there struggled, rolled about, surged, and heaved a mass of screwed humanity that would astonish a new chum fresh from the proprieties of home—but the component parts of which were perfectly good-tempered also, in spite of their apparent ferocity. Evening fell, and by degrees the crowd melted away imperceptibly, and the village returned to its normal quietude. Only now and again a waiata would well up from among the sleeping hundreds around, and end abruptly as waiatas do in the night time. Tired bonifaces, with their aids, went to bed with lively anticipations of the coming day. Clyde, 11.30 a.m.—The Constabulary parade is over. Militia and Volunteers have been put through with fewer mistakes than usual. Ngatiporou are lolling about in the sun as yesterday, but have not got the steam up quite yet (though there is a crowd in front of Harmer’s Hotel), and a group of officers stand chatting in the road opposite Flint’s store. There are several Natives squatting around the group, as Natives will, among whom sits one old man with a long stout stick, of which more anon. Major Cumming, very infirm and shaky, is there, with his orders and decorations scintillating in the sunlight,—dead and gone now. Poor Capt. Macdonald, dead too. Captain Porter, not so stout as now, Capt. Newland, with his tawny wavy beard ; genial John Taylor of the Volunteers, who has joined the majority also, and the narrator, standing, as I said, and talking as men do talk after parade and before lunch. Hey I what a commotion; heads and legs, arms and bodies, mouths shouting, arms and hands grasping and retaining, bodies writhing to and fro, and ten or a dozen Ngatiprous holding on like grim death to Hotene Porourangi, who has gone mad from drink, and threatens with terrible gesticulations to kill everybody. Another twist, a sudden jerk, down go two Natives, and away careers Hotene, naked as he was bom, but fortunately weaponless. Here he conies, in our direction too, but he is sure to pace us and tackle probably some of his own people, No,—with a sudden turn, yell, and bound, irritated no doubt by the glitter of his decorations, he dashes straight at the Major and strikes a savage blow full at hisface, which the veteran stops neatly, though tottering from its force. Hotene follows him up, and we all rush forward when—the long stick previouly mentioned as being held by an rid Native, now wielded in both hands by Captain Porter descends with a sickening thud upon Hoteno’s neck, who falls straght and flat, his bead striking the grass and resounding again, 11 Good God, you've killed him," shouted the Major, and away he scuttles to the redoubt to fall in the Constabulary " without arms.” Though there is terrible excitement among the Ngatiporous, who are 300 strong—their arms stacked in the street, and one of their principal chiefs (Matarawa) dead, according to their (and, indeed, our) first impression—it was a critical moment. The hotels were at once closed, shutters put up, and while the most terrible disorder reigned, the Constabularyformed line and cleared the street as far

as Harmer’s. Here there was hard fighting, Porter’s stick, which had been broken in two, rising and falling like a flail amid the crowd, while the Constabulary, many of whom— Le Marchant, Douglass, Tom Dalziel, and others—who were magnificent athletes—were also doing their devoir manfully. Ultimately some ten or twelve of the most riotous were arrested, but, while being taken to the redoubt, were rescued by a determined rush of the Ngatiporous. Finally, one unfortunate remained, who was discharged in the morning. Hotene, who also appeared a sadder and wiser man, apologised to Major Cumming and Captain Porter, and got off cheaply, but the delicacy of the position at that moment, when he fell as dead, and the Ngatiporous might have run to their arms—so handy, has often struck, Yours, &0., Narrator. Note.—l may say that the blow described did not catch Hptene on the back of his neck, as it appeared, and which would infallibly have killed him, but below the cervical verterbraaa, and lower down. There was also a livid wheal across his shoulders. He got it warm.