PAGES FROM THE PAST

Taranaki Daily News, 13 May 1922, Page 9

PAGES FROM THE PAST

TALES OF OLD TARANAKI. A RIDE FOR LIFE. (By “Juvenis.” The following stories of Taranaki were first told many years ago: A RIDE FOR LIFE. In journeying up and down the coast it is sometimes interesting to study characters met with. One wet and cold day after a long ride I arrived at a wayside pub. A number of customers were sitting round a comfortable fire enjoying their evening glass and pipe. The contrast from the wind and rain without made the place appear very enjoyable. Among the guests were two past their prime, who had been actively engaged during the native wax, and had seen some rough times. Under the influence of good whisky and tobacco, they told some good tales of what they had seen in those rough old times. One in particular struck me as being worth putting in print. I will give it as near* as I can in his own words:

“Talking about Coad’s murder,” said one of the guests, “reminds me of a nice little scrape I got into the next morning. We were stationed at Bell Block stockade. For a week or two no communication had taken place with New Plymouth, consequently we felt as if 1 something unusual was going on. Myself and a sergeant of the 12th Regiment named Rush, a great favorite with the Militia, made it up together to ride into town. We got our horses in readiness, and were about to start, when the officer in command refused t«he sergeant leave, as the road was too dangerous. I, however, made up my mind to chance it myself. Nothing occurred until 1 arrived at the mouth of the Waiwakaiho river. The tide was in, and I had to ride up the bank of the river a considerable distance, where I forded, and rode up the side of the opposite bank towards Honi Ropia’s pa. On mounting some rising ground I came in full view of the pa and the Waiwakaiho flat simultaneously. To my dismay the flat was occupied by several hundred Waikatos, who were returning from a plundering expedition. A large number of bullock carts were loaded with plunder stolen from the settlers’ houses, which they had been burning; also a large number' of cattle, horses and sheep. I had no time to admire the picturesque scene. In front was the pa supposed to friendly, but I could see 40 or 50 strange natives gesticulating in front. On the flat, under my feet, a shout rose up. I was seen, and a number of naked savages rushed for their horses, mounted, and started for the Mangahauni Bridge. I took it all in at a glance, and my only chance was to get back the way I came before the horsemen arrived at the ford. I started back at a good pace. I could catch a glimpse of the horsemen here and there through the scrub on the . flat, and was soon convinced that I was too late. I was fairly caught. One chance only remained —to cross country. I made straight for the sandhills. In a moment a ditch and bank, with a post and rail fence, brought me up. I tried my horse; she refused; again she refused. J. could hear my pursuers coming on. Something had to be done, so I jumped to the ground, got under the fence and broke the two rails with my back. I mounted again and flew across the paddock to where I could see some bare rails in the furze hedge that surrounded it. On arrival I found them to be slip rails on a beaten’ track to the beach. My pursuers were coming close behind. If I once got through I would bo right. My horse was one of the fastest, although no jumper; indeed, she won several races after, under the name of Alice Grey. I was soon off and through the bars. Seeing I had half a minute to spare I put up the top bars to detain my pursuers. On mounting again I could see several natives with their guns running their best towards another pair of bars that opened on to the sandhills. It appeared as if it would be a neck and neck race. I had considerably farther to go, you may depend. Alice covered the ground pretty fast. I soon had the bars down, and when I mounted again could see the natives had given up the chase. I just remained a second to make some masonic signs, which they seemed to understand, for they fired away at a great rate. The sandhills were covered with tracks, and on the beach there were evident signs of a diabolical deed having been enacted the night before.” Such was the tale I heard, and I believe from inquiries I made after, that every word was true. DRAWING THE ENEMY’S FIRE. I last week met my old friend again, who I told you had such a ride for his life from the natives near the Waiwakaiho Flat. He looked very down on his luck, and disinclined for conversation. I enquired the reason of his great depression of mind. He raised his head, stared fixedly at me for some time, then answered, Butter, sir! Butter is the trouble! I have been turning the blooming handle for three solid hours, and it’s more creamy than when I commenced, so I gave it best and strolled up here to have a look round for a spell to let it settle down a bit. That’s one reason. Tne other is 4d per lb, and that’s the biggest reason for all.” He was about relapsing into his former state, when the landlord of the inn appeared. A flash of intelligence lit up his face, which the landlord seemed instinctively to understand, for he took down a bottle and poured something into a tumbler, and handed it across the counter. My friend looked into it for some seconds without moving. At last he said:

“You remind me of our old Color-Ser-geant Me . He was the cleanest man i ever saw. He never took his bucket for the grog without washing it out with a pint or two of clean water, but he always forgot to throw the water away. He never could keep a handle on his tot measure, either, so he had to put his thumb in to hold on by; but, bad as he was, he never gave such a scurvy tot as that.”

The bottle reappeared. “Well, that’s better. Yes, I don’t mind telling how we tried to recover Tate’s bullocks.”

“One morning, when stationed at Bell Block, I went up to the tower to have a look round with the glass. The natives were pretty active about that time, and I made it a practice to have a good look round first thing. In a moment I saw • two natives in their fighting dress, quietjly driving a pair of working bullocks j out of Tate’s paddock, near the chapel. [I gave the alarm, and five or six of us started in pursuit, trusting to be supported by others as soon as they could .leave. The natives were very deliberate Un their movements, and by the time

we arrived at the chapel we were close up to them. We were too much blown to shoot, so we kept up the chase. When the natives arrived at the cross roads, near the Half Town House, they left the road and turned into the paddock, disappearing from our view. At this time I had outrun my comrades. On arriving at the cross roads, I entered the paddock and made straight for the house. I knew there was an upper floor in the roof with a window overlooking he Waitara stream, and I was calculating on having a good steady shot at the two cattle thieves. The back door was partly open —a dilapidated step gave easy access to the house. I was up pretty quickly, and was pushing the door open when 1 caught sight of a naked figure spring forward and push the door with such force that I was sent off the steps on my back.

It was a shock in more ways than one. I was out of wind to start with, and the fall off the step was no improvement to my condition. Two mortal enemies were within a few yards, and the whole oi my comrades out of sight. I retired about ten yards and lay down to watch the door. For a moment or two a dead silence reigned. I looked towards my comrades, expecting them to come to my assistance. They were at the cross roads about 150 yards ofi, making frantic signs to me. I could not understand what they meant, and. was loath to leave so good a haul without doing something towards securing it. At length I heard a voice say: “Come back, you fool; you will be caught.” I retired about twenty yards, and let drive into the house. No sooner had I fired than it was answered by a volley from the road in front of the house.

1 could then understand the meaning of my comrades’ action. The natives had laid a strong ambuscade near the Waitara stream, expecting us to follow them right into it. Fortunately we followed them so sharply that they had to make for the house to save themselves.

•We held our own at the cross roads for some time. It was hot work, and the natives were flanking us. Richardson, the hero of the Soudan expedition was in command of the blockhouse at the* time, and lie directed the fight from the tower, where he could see all that was going on. The natives came on very pluckily. We contested every foot of the ground until we arrived at the little chapel, where we made a stand. A few of us were a little in advance at Mr. Rundle’s gate. The bullets were coming pretty freely about, and the chapel received several which could be seen for years after. Suddenly the natives ceased to fire. On such occasions we always expected that some devilry was taking place, so wc kept a sharp look-out on the flanks. Although we could not see what was going on, Richardson was keeping a sharp look out, and discovered the natives concentrating in front of us behind a furze hedge. He immediately sent a messenger to warn us. He might have saved himself the trouble, for we found it all out for ourselves before the messenger arrived.

We were getting very impatient. Several plans were proposed to discover the move. At last one of the party, who is now a staid family man, but at that time would have dared anything, however desperate, proposed to stand on the gate-post to “draw the fire” of the enemy. We all had a suspicion that they were concentrating behind the hedge in front of us. We agreed to the proposal, and took steady aim at a corner of the hedge in front to fire a volley as soon as we saw the smoke. When all was ready, the word was given. Up mounts our comrade on to his pedestal. The effect was instantaneous. No sooner was he on his perch commencing his oration in the best Maori that he could command, as was the custom of the times, than a volley was poured in. We answered with one from our side, which evidently did great execution, for the enemy retired almost at once, and we afterwards saw blood and traces of where the dead and wounded had been carried away.” My friend retired to have another turn at the huxdy-gurdy, as he termed it, muttering as he went “4d a pound and take it out of that.”