LUCKIER THAN KARA.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LIV, Issue 1, 26 June 1911, Page 8

LUCKIER THAN KARA.

HOW A TARANAKI MAORI ESCAPED THE GALLOWS.

THE TALE OF lIOKI TEIRA AND I

HIS "ALTUA."

(By "Kaucne" in Wellington Times.) ! The case of the Maori youth Tahi Kaka Teminds me of at least two in- . stances in which Maoris of boyish years j were sentenced to death, but reprieved, and who have now been at liberty for many years. One is a Buy of Plenty man,-occasionally seen in Litorua; the other, whose strange story I propose relating, belongs to Pungarehu, Taranaki, where he is to-day a prosperous and well-respected farmer. The Bay of Plenty native's crime was complicity in the murder of the Rev. Carl Volkner in i 18155; but he was younger than Kaka is, and his sentence was commuted to ft short term of imprisonment. My Taranaki acquaintance's offence was, however, in a different category; it was really an act of war; nevertheless it was treated as murder, and that the death penalty wasn't inflicted certainly wasn't the fault of the judge, or tho people of New Plymouth. It was in a Wellington hotel much frequented by tangata Maoris that I heard Ilori Teira tell the story of how he escaped hanging. An old Taranaki acquaintance, one Tutan'ge Waionui, who was one of Titokowaru's scouts and warriors in the West Coast war of 1808-0!), was telling some of his gun-and-tomahawk yarns. Alongside Tutange sat a mild-eyed, grey-Moustached old man, who listened to our talk for a long time without saying a word. After a while Tutange turned to him and said: ''Now, Ilori, what about that aitua of yours, and your escape from tho hangman's hanging-tree? Tell us the story." The old man—a half-caste, as fair as ' any European—looked what he was, a .quiet-going old grower of potatoes and maize.' "Well, as Tutange asks me,' he said after a while, "I'll tell you some of my adventures in the old days.

You wouldn't guess that I was onco sentenced to be hanged by the neck until I was dead, wou.u you?" Hori Teira (George Taylor), it appeared from his story, as a boy of fifteen witnessed the first important engagement in the Taranaki war, and

the lirst in New Zealand in which the volunteer forces fought, the battle of Waireka, near New Plymouth, in 1860. His father was a slftp's carpenter; he was born at Kororareka, Bay of Islands, educated at a mission school, and later on brought down to Taranaki by his mother's people just before the war. lie was in the Waireka pa with his tribesmen of Taranaki, but was not considered old enougn to be given a gun, so ho contented himself with watching the fight, though he was anxious to join in. In the subsequent fighting he was often under fire. RESULT OF AN AMBUSH. In 18G3 the war recommenced in Taranaki and was begun in the usual Maori fashion, by an ambuscade laid', for the purpose of cutting off a weak escort of a party of stragglers. Now Hori Teira got his chance. He was, as he says himself, a wild young blood, ready for any fighting or other devilment. lie and thirty- or forty Taranaki warriors laid the ambuscade. The scene was near the Wairau creek, on the Tataraimaka block, a few miles out ot New .Plymouth, on the coast road towards Cape Egmont. Sir George Grey, then Governor of New Zealand, was in the district, and the ambuscade was really laid for him, as he was expected along this road to visit one of the military posts near Tataraimaka. The Govenor, however, did not pass, but a small escort did, a party of ten soldiors and two officers, one of whom was Surgeon Hope, of the 57 th Regiment, and the other Lieutenant Tragett. The officers were riding along a little ahead of the soldiers. Young Hori .and his companions lying in ambush let the two mounted men pass by, and then poured a volley into the little detachment of soldiers, killing and wounding nine of them.

llori said tliat to his great astonishment the .British officers, instead of making their escape, as they could easily have done, instantly turned their horses and galloped back to the soldiers, so they, too, were shot down. A Maori named Tukino fired at one of the officers, Dr. Hope, and shot him in the face. Tukino immediately raised a yell of "Mate rawa!" ("He is killed!"), but the officer rose and confornted his enemies again. Thereupon Hori Teira and some of his comrades fired and shot him dead.

The young half-caste rushed out exultingly to plunder the dead officer—his "mata-ika" or fir?M>lood. It was the first man he had slain, or helped to slay. He took a watch and chain and a ring from Dr. Hope's body, and ■ put the ring on his finger, and he took two rifles from the dead soldiers. Now, it was an old war custom among the Taranaki Maoris that anv plunder or trophies taken from a foe whom a warrior killed in his first battle—the "first fish"—should not be retained by the slayer, but should be given away to some other person in order to avert ill-luck. It was inviting an "aitua," a serious misfortune, even death, to keep the first-won spoils of war. So young Hori was advised by his chiefs and elders to give away his war trophies, and so placate the war-god. Hori, however, with the recklessness ot youth and the contempt of an eighteen-year-old for the advice of the older men, kept and wore the watch and ring, Having that they were too fine and valuable to be given away because of a foolish old-fashioned superstition.

CAUGHT BY THE PAKEHA.

Sum enough, tlie ill-gotten ring brought its aitua, its retribution. A few weeks after the ambuscade at the Wairau, a small party of young warriors, of whom Hori Teira was one, laid another ambuscade, near Oakura, not far from a redoubt, about eight miles out of New Plymouth. Tliey had been out for a couple of days ''looking for someone to shoot." as ll'ori expressed it. On May 29th, ISfiS, they attacked a small military party passing but with less success than on t)he first occasion. A mounted officer (a Lieutenant Waller) and his l.orso were hit, and both fell. Ilori thought the man was mortally wounded, and yelling "Ki au to tupapaku!" ("Mine is the dead man!"),

lie rushed out, dropping his rifle, and snatched his short-handed tomahawk from hia waist-belt to give the finishing blow.

But the officer wiw by no means a dead msHi. .Jumping to his feet, he drew his revolver mid fired several shots in quick succession at llori. One of the revolver bullets struck the young half-caste in the side, and knocked him out of time. "I couldn't see, 1 couldn't raise a hand, I couldn't move." He was not seriously wounded, but he could not make oil' as his comrades did when a force sallied out of the nearest redoubt to the assistance of the ambuscaded whites. The soldiers captured him, knocked him about pretty badly in their anger, and threw him into a tent. Then he was brought to New Plymouth.

Hon was identified as one of the Maoris who had ambuscaded Dr. Hope and his party. The fatal ring was on his finger when he was captured, the watch was iu his pocket, and one of the rifles was identified as Dr. Hope's. He was charged with murder—although in Maori eyes this so-called massacre was thoroughly in accordance with the rules of war—and was tried and found guilty, and sentenced to 'he executed by hanging. He was ta,ken up to Auckland Gaol for the carrying out of the death sentence.

In the depths of the "dark heart," Hori lay in Auckland Gaol, daily expecting to hear that the date of his execution had been fixed. He felt that he had not done murder. He had but fought as Maoris fight, and followed the example of his chiefs. And hanging was a particularly dreadful and repulsvie death to die; lie would quite readily have faced a firing squad. At len'gfh he was sent -back to New Plymouth, and there he was told that he was reprieved because of his youth, but was sent to Auckland again, and there he worked in convict dress breaking* stones. "My heart was savage within me," said lie; "I often thought of making a dash out, even if I were shot in the attempt." One day a white man came to tee him in prison. Kori recognised him as "Kereama," one of the passengers hy the steamer Lord Worsley, when that vessel' was wrecked near Opunake, Taranaki, in 1802. The gentleman was Mr. George Graham, Superintendent of 'the Province of Auckland. He was a friend in need, and well it was foT Hori that the Lord Worsley had cast her passengers adrift on the Taranaki coast. The wreck occurred on the coast of the Maori country, and her passengers and crew werD for a time in considerable danger of losing their lives at the hands of the Taranaki wrrriors. But they were befriended by H'iremu Kingi and a chief named Te Whiti—afterwards the celebrated Prophet of Parihaka—and a few other natives, amongst whom vs the boy Hori Teira, who was then th M keeper of the Maori toll-gate at Te Il: roa. These Maoris befriended Mr. Grim, allowing him to take his cases of gold through the toll-gate, and preventid the other natives from killing him. Some of them escorted Mr. Graham and his companions through the unfriendly country to New Plymouth.

It was ft case of "casting bread upon the waters." Mr. Graham did not forget Wi Kingi and Te Whiti, and the other Maoris, and wfoen he heard that young Hori, after escaping hanging, was working in prison, he came to cheer him up with timely advice and help. "Hori," he said, "I'll try and get you set free if I can. Just keep quiet here and don't make a fuss, and don't try to escape, and I will see Governor Grey and get you released as soon as possible,"

"Kereama" kept his word. He succeeded, after personal interviews, in persuading Sir George Grey to lighten the sentence.

Four years Hori .spent in hard labor in the Auckland prison yard; then he whs released, and went to Mr. Graham at the Thames; later he returned to Taranaki.

"My word," said the old farmer of Pungarehu, as he ended his story, "I thought those four years were hard, but they were lucky years for inc. If I had got free, I'd have been lying in the ground long before this. I'd have gone back to the war if I had had the chance, for I was a wild young fellow those days, and looked upon fighting the pakehas as excellent fun. But when I did get free, and returned to Taranaki, my fighting fury had gone out of me, and I just stayed at home arid let things be. And here I am now—all alive, though I was once sentenced ta be hanged by the neck till I was dead.