NEARLY CAUGHT.

Taranaki Daily News, 16 December 1921, Page 5 (Supplement)

NEARLY CAUGHT.

BY THE MAORI REBELS. A STIRRING STORY OF TARANAKI. (By an Old Colonist.) It was in the war time. The people of to-day do not realise really what that war time meant to the settlers. Many of these people had been nearly twenty years pn their land, and had. established splendid farms and homes for themselves and families. These had to be left almost at a moment's notice, for though the natives had been very troublesome, and had been fighting among themselves, very few of the settlers thought they would have to leave their homes and crowd into the towns. But so it was. We expected to be back in a. few weeks’ time, but three years passed before we dug up our oak box. The bullock dray had been kept busy for several days carting our things into the township, and at last, after all had gone, my mother and I left the house, had a good look round the dear old garden, and then started by a near track through the bush and made for the place of refuge. Shortly after this we were shipped away to a neighboring province, where i supposed to bo safe from the Maoris. We remained there some eighteen months, and then with others returned to our own town, but not to our homes, as it was not considered safe to go far from the township. Some of us young fellows, however, could not bear the restraint, and we decided that we would go out. and have a look at the old place once more. So one morning three of us started away pretty early and were soon outside the town.

What a change had taken place during the three years we had been absent! Almost every farmhouse had been burned down or pulled to pieces. I can only think of one house, that had not been destroyed, and the Maoris had kept that for a camping place. After getting a mile or so out of town we found the road almost blocked up with gorse. Hedges had been planted by the settlers on each side of the road, and these had spread -so quicklythat they only left a narrow track in the middle of the road giving us just enough room to get along. It gave one a strange lonely feeling out there. Everything was so quiet and still. We saw no one about, could hear no one at work; there were no cattle or sheep to be seen or heard, no sign of life but the native birds in the bush. CRASH CAME A VOLLEY. We had gone down a gully, over a beautiful little stream, then up the hill on the other side, and were walking quietly along a level piece of table land which was covered with fern. Sam and I had our Enfield rifles with us. loaded and capped just by way of precaution. Tom laughed at us for bringing them. He would not be bothered carrying a heavy rifle and ammunition when there was no need for it, but I felt safer with mine on my shoulder and some thirty rounds of ammunition in my side pockets and a waistcoat pocket half full of caps. We had gone about half-way across the flat when, without warning of any kind, crash came a volley from the fern on one side of the road.

We turned and ran towards town, but in a few moments I noticed that Tom was not with us. I called to Sam, who was slightly ahead, and we stopped and fired at the Maoris, who had started with a. yell after us. When we fired they stopped and made of! after Tom, who had gained the bush, and was climbing a very steep hill, almost a cliff. I noticed as he climbed that one arm hung helplessly at his side. Sam and I loaded and fired as fast as we could for a few minutes, keeping the Maoris off, and shouting all the time, “Come on, boys!” to make them believe that we had friends with us who had not come up out of the gully. The black rascals had got between us and Tom, and as we could not reach him we thought it best to run back to town as fast as we could and get help. This we did, and were soon on the way out again with a company of manly fellows, who had rushed for their rifles almost before we had spoken. They seemed to know instinctively that something was wrong, and that they were wanted.

We marched rapidly back to the place where we had been fired at, but nothing was to be seen of the natives or Tom, so we skirmished all over the flat, thinking perhaps the Maoris had hidden in the fern. We came upon the place where the Maoris had crouched behind a log. Three notches were cut on the top of it to steauy the rifles, and three straight lines were cut in the fern from the log out to the road, so that if they fired when a man was at the other end of the line it was almost impossible to miss him. The Maoris evidently thought so, or they would not have taken so much trouble about it. After going all over the fern patch, we advanced to the bush and up the hill where I had last seen Tom. There were traces of the firing here, for many of the trees were cut by the bullets. FOUND IN THE HOLLOW OF A TREE.

After a Lng, weary search, and just as we felt like giving up, I came up to a large tree near the top of the hill. It had a good many bullet marks on it, so I went closer to examine it. On going round to the opposite side I found a hollow place, and here was poor Tom, lying in a fainting condition from loss of blood and pain. A bullet had gone through his arm, above the elbow, smashing the bone terribly. He had started to run with us when the volley was fired, but the Maoris were so close that he felt they would certainly catch him on the road, so he darted off towards the bush for shelter, and trusting that we should reach town and bring out help. As he climbed the hill he turned and shook his fist at the Maoris, calling to us to hurry up and bring the men along. He said this to frighten the enemy, and it had the desired effect, for though they remained firing away towards the spot where they had last seen him, they soon made off, thinking we might catch them there when we returned with reinforcements.

Tom was placed on a stretcher made of light poles, supplejacks and kie-kie. But, oh! what a job it was getting 4<>wn that hill through the bush and on to the road. Tripping over roots and scrambling through supplejacks is no joke, especially with a wounded man, I can tell you. Evening was drawing in when we reached town, and were met by a crowd of people, including Toms father and mother. You can imagine what an anxious day it had been for them. Tom recovered after a very long and tedious illness.

T can assure you it was a long time before anyone ventured out of town after our experience, without being ac- ■ coiDjianied by a good escort*