Maori and Settler: A Story of The New Zealand War

"We are pretty safe now," Mr. Atherton said, "we can turn off from the track and take to the scrub for shelter, and there will be little chance of their finding us. Now, Wilfrid, I will set you down for a bit. This is fine exercise for me, and if I were to carry you a few miles every day I should fine down wonderfully. Ah! the others have come up;" he broke off as the sound of a native yell sounded on the still night air, and looking round they saw a bright light rising in the direction from which they had come.

"They have set fire to the house," the settler said; "there goes the result of six years' work. However, I need not grumble over that, now that we have saved our lives."

"We had best be moving on," Mr. Atherton said. "No doubt they opened a heavy fire before they set fire to the shingles with their brands, but the fact that we did not return their fire must have roused their suspicions, and by this time they must have woke up to the fact that we have escaped. They will hunt about for a bit, no doubt, round the house, and may send a few men some distance along the tracks, but they will know there is very little chance of catching us until daylight. Now, Sampson, let us join arms, your right and my left. Wilfrid can sit on them and put his arms round our necks. We carry our rifles on our other shoulders, and that will balance matters. That is right. Now on we go again." With occasional halts they went on for another four hours. By this time the ladies and the little girl were completely exhausted from stumbling over roots and low shrubs in the darkness and the two men also were thoroughly fatigued; for the night was extremely hot, and the work of carrying Wilfrid in addition to the weight of their ammunition, told upon them. They had long since lost the path, but knew by the stars that they were keeping in the right direction.

"Now we will have a few hours' halt," Mr. Atherton said. "We may consider ourselves as perfectly safe from pursuit, though we shall have to be cautious, for there may be parties of these scoundrels wandering about the country. We may hope that a good many of the settlers heard the firing and made off in time, but I fear we shall hear some sad stories of this night's work."

Lying down the whole party were in a few minutes fast asleep. Wilfrid had offered to keep watch, saying that he had done no walking and could very well keep awake, but Mr. Atherton said that nothing would be gained by it. "You could see nothing, and you would hear nothing until a party of natives were quite close, and unless they happened by sheer accident to stumble upon us they could not find us; besides, though you have done no absolute walking, the exertion of sitting up and holding on has been quite as much for you in your weak state as carrying you has been for us. No, we had best all take a rest so as to start fresh in the morning."

Mr. Atherton woke as soon as daylight broke, and rousing himself, cautiously looked round. There was nothing in sight, and he decided to let the party sleep for a few hours longer. It was eight o'clock and the sun was high before the others opened their eyes.

Mr. Atherton was standing up. "There is a horseman coming across the plain," he said; "no doubt he is following the track; by the line he is taking he will pass a little to our right. I will go out to hear the news. I think you had better remain where you are, he may be followed."

Mr. Atherton walked through the bush until he reached the track just as the rider came along.

"Ah! you have escaped, Mr. Atherton; I am glad of that. Have all your party got away?"

"Yes, thank God!" Mr. Atherton said; "and now what is the news?"

"I cannot tell all," the settler said, "but there has been a terrible massacre. I was pressing wool for Dodd and Peppard, whose station, you know, lies some distance from any other. I rode up there just as day was breaking and went to the wool shed. Nobody came, and I heard the dog barking angrily; so I went up to the house to see what was the matter. I found the back-door open and the two men lying dead inside, evidently killed by natives. I then galloped off to the Mission Station and warned them there, and then to the stations of Hawthorne and Strong. I found they had already been warned, and were just about to start; then I rode to Matawhero to warn the settlers there. Most of them had already made off. I passed Bigg's house on the way; there were a number of natives round it evidently in possession, and as I passed Mann's house I saw him and his wife and child lying outside dead. How many more have been murdered I do not know. It is an awful business. Where are your friends?"

"They are in the scrub there. We are making our way to the Mahia."

"Most of the settlers who have escaped have made for the old redoubt at Taranganui, and I fancy they will be able to beat off any attack made on them. I am riding for Wairoa. I cannot think what they can have been about there to let Te Kooti slip away without sending us a warning. He must have come by the long road and been six or seven days on the march."

"Have you seen any natives since you started?" Mr. Atherton asked.

"I saw a party of about twenty of them moving across the country about two miles back. They were scattered about in the bush, and were, I expect, in search of fugitives. They were moving across the line I was going, and were half a mile away; but when they come on this path they may follow it, knowing that those who made their escape and did not go to the redoubt would be likely to try to reach the Mahia country."

"Thank you! then we will be moving on without delay," Mr. Atherton said; and the settler at once rode on with his message to the force at Wairoa. As soon as Mr. Atherton joined the party and told them what he had heard they again set out. After walking for four miles they reached the edge of the plain, and the path here ascended a sharp rise and entered a narrow defile.

Wilfrid, who was sitting on Mr. Atherton's shoulders, looked back for the twentieth time as they ascended the rise. "They are following us!" he exclaimed. "There are a party of fifteen or twenty coming along the path at a run. They are not more than a mile behind at the outside."

"Then I will put you down, Wilfrid," Mr. Atherton said quietly; "that will give me time to cool down a bit before they arrive. They could not have come up at a better place for us. It is no use our trying to hide, they would track us directly. We must make a stand at the mouth of this defile. It is a good place for defence, and if it were not for this rascally bush we should have no difficulty in keeping them off. Even as it is I think we can make a good fight of it. Now, Mrs. Renshaw, will you and Mrs. Sampson and the child go a little way in and sit down. I have no doubt we shall be able to beat these fellows back, and if we do that we can hope to make the rest of our journey without further molestation."

"Could I be of any use in loading the rifles, Mr. Atherton?"

"I think not, Mrs. Renshaw; it may be a long skirmish, and we shall have plenty of time to load; and your being here with us and running the risk of being hit would make us nervous. I think, if you do not mind, we would much rather know that you are in safety behind us."

"Very well," Mrs. Renshaw said quietly; "I will do what you think best. We shall be praying for your success until it is over."

Mr. Atherton looked round after the two ladies had gone on. "There is a bush with a wide ledge of flat ground behind it," he said, pointing to a little clump of underwood some ten feet above them on the side of the ravine. "I think, with my help, you can manage to clamber up there, Wilfrid. Lying down you will be able to fire under the bush and be in fair shelter. Mr. Sampson and I will hold the path here. If they make a rush you will be able to help us with your revolver. Up there you will have the advantage of being able to see movements among the bushes better than we shall, and can fire down at them; and if it comes to a hand-to-hand fight will be of more use there than down here."

Wilfrid at once assented. "Stand on my hand and I will hoist you up." Mr. Atherton raised Wilfrid until he was able to get on to the ledge of rock behind the bushes. Wilfrid laid himself down there, and with his knife cut off a few of the lower twigs so that he was able to get a good view ahead. "Keep yourself well back, lad, and do not raise your head except to fire. Do you see anything of them?"

"Yes, they are not more than a quarter of a mile away and are scattering among the bushes. No doubt they caught sight of us as we came up here, and think it possible we may intend to defend the defile."

"I will let them know we are here;" and Mr. Atherton made two steps forward to the mouth of the defile. Almost at the same instant he levelled his rifle and fired, and one of the Maoris threw up his arms and fell back, the rest throwing themselves down instantaneously among the bushes, whence a moment later two or three shots were fired. But Mr. Atherton had stepped back, and he and the settler, lying down on the ground, worked themselves forward until by raising their heads they could command a view of the slope up to the mouth of the ravine.

For a time all was silent. Presently Wilfrid's rifle spoke out, and a yell testified to the fact that the quick aim he had taken at a dark figure stealing among the bushes had been true. It was followed quickly by a general discharge of their pieces by the natives. The bullets rattled thickly against the rock, and cut leaves from the bushes behind which Wilfrid was lying, but he had drawn himself back a foot or two the moment he fired, and the balls passed harmlessly over him. Not so the missive despatched by Mr. Atherton in the direction of a puff of smoke from a bush some forty yards away, for the figure behind it remained still and immovable while the fray went on. For upwards of an hour the exchange of shots continued, and then the assailants were joined by fifteen other natives, who had been attracted to the spot by the sound of firing.

"I expect they will pluck up their courage to make a rush now, Wilfrid," Mr. Atherton said. "If it had not been for these new arrivals I think they would have soon drawn off, for we must have diminished their numbers very considerably. Don't fire again for a bit; we had best keep our rifles loaded so as to be ready for them when they pluck up courage to charge. When they do, be sure you keep your revolver as a reserve for the critical moment."

Five minutes later a tremendous yell rose in the air. The natives leaped to their feet from behind the bushes, fired their guns at their hidden foes, and then, tomahawk in hand, rushed forward.

Three shots rang out almost simultaneously from the mouth of the defile and three of the natives dropped dead in their tracks. The rest rushed forward in a body. Mr. Atherton and the settler leapt to their feet, and the former opened fire with his Colt's revolver when the leading natives were within ten yards of him. His aim was as accurate as when directed against a mark stuck against a tree, and a man fell at each shot. But the natives' blood was thoroughly up now, and in spite of the slaughter they rushed forward. There was no room in the narrow defile for two men to swing their rifles, and Mr. Atherton and the settler stepped forward to meet the foe with their clubbed rifles in their hands. Two crashing blows were delivered with effect, but before the settler could again raise his weapon three Maoris were upon him. One tomahawk struck him in the shoulder and the rifle fell from his hands. Another raised his tomahawk to brain him, but fell with a bullet from Wilfrid's revolver through his chest; but the third native brought his weapon down with terrible force upon the settler's head, and he fell in a heap upon the ground. The tremendous strength of Mr. Atherton stood him in good stead now. The first blow he had dealt had smashed the stock of his rifle, but he whirled the iron barrel like a light twig round his head, dealing blows that broke down the defence of the natives as if their tomahawks had been straw, and beating them down as a flail would level a wheat stalk. Those in front of him recoiled from a strength which seemed to them superhuman, while whenever one tried to attack him in the rear Wilfrid's revolver came into play with fatal accuracy. At last, with a cry of terror, the surviving natives turned and retreated at the top of their speed.

"Hot work, Wilfrid," Mr. Atherton said as he lowered his terrible weapon and wiped the streaming perspiration from his face; "but we have given the rascals such a lesson that we can journey on at our leisure. This is a bad business of poor Sampson's. I will help you down first and then we will see to him. Recharge your revolver, lad," he went on as Wilfrid stood beside him; "some of these fellows may not be dead, and may play us an ugly trick if we are not on the look-out."

Wilfrid reloaded his pistol, and Mr. Atherton then stooped over the fallen man.

"He is desperately hurt," he said, "but he breathes. Hand me that revolver, Wilfrid, and run back and tell Mrs. Sampson her husband is hurt."

Wilfrid had gone but a yard or two when he met his mother and the settler's wife, who, hearing the cessation of the firing, were no longer able to restrain their anxiety as to what was going forward. Mrs. Renshaw gave a cry of joy at seeing Wilfrid walking towards her.

"Is it all over, my boy, and are you unhurt?"

"It is all over, mother, and they have bolted. I have not had a scratch, for I have been lying down all the time in shelter; but I am sorry to say, Mrs. Sampson, that your husband is badly hurt.

"No; he is not dead," he continued in answer to the agonized expression of inquiry in her eyes. "He has been stunned by the blow of a tomahawk, and is, as I said, badly hurt; but he will, I trust, get over it."

Mrs. Sampson ran forward and threw herself on her knees by her husband's side, uttering a suppressed cry as she saw the terrible wound on his head.

"Wilfrid, there is a bottle of water untouched in the basket," Mr. Atherton said.

"I will fetch it," Mrs. Renshaw broke in, hurrying away. "No, Milly," she said, as the child who had been ordered to stay with the basket came running to meet her. "You must stay here for a little while. The natives have all run away, but your father is hurt and for a time must be kept quite quiet. I will send Wilfrid to sit with you."

Taking a bottle of water and a cloth which covered the basket, Mrs. Renshaw hurried back. "Wilfrid," she said, "do you go and sit with the little one. You can do no good here, and look completely worn out. You will be making yourself useful if you amuse Milly and keep her away from here for the present."

Mr. Atherton poured a little of the water into the cover of his flask, added some brandy, and poured a little of it between the wounded man's lips. Then he saturated the cloth with water and handed it to Mrs. Sampson, who wiped the blood from her husband's head and face, then poured a little water from the bottle on to his forehead. Some more brandy and water was poured between his lips and he uttered a faint groan.

"I will examine his wound now, Mrs. Sampson. I have had some experience that way in my journeyings about the world." Kneeling down he carefully examined the wound.

"It is better than I hoped, Mrs. Sampson," he said cheerfully. "I expect the thick hat turned the tomahawk a little and it fell obliquely on the side of the head. It has carried away a goodish slice of the hair and scalp, and has starred the bone, but it has not crushed it in, and I think that with care and nursing your husband will not be long before he gets over it. You had better fold up that cloth again, pour some fresh water over it, and then bandage it over the wound with a slip of stuff torn off from the bottom of your petticoat. You had better tear off two slips, for his arm will require bandaging too. I will look to that as soon as you have done his head. No," he went on, when he saw that Mrs. Sampson's trembling fingers were quite incapable of fixing the bandage properly, "I do not think that will do. If you will allow me I will do it for you."

He took Mrs. Sampson's place, and while Mrs. Renshaw supported the settler's head he wound the bandage tightly and skilfully round it. "Now for his arm," he said, and drawing out his knife cut the sleeve up the shoulder. "It has narrowly missed the artery," he went on; "but though it is an ugly-looking gash it is not serious. I wish we had some more water, but as we haven't we must do without it, and I daresay we shall come across a stream soon." When the operation of bandaging was complete Mr. Atherton stood up.

"What are we to do next?" Mrs. Renshaw asked him.

"We must cut a couple of saplings and make a litter," he said. "If one of you ladies can spare a petticoat, please take it off while I cut the poles." He went away and returned in a few minutes with two poles ten or eleven feet long.

"Here is the petticoat," Mrs. Renshaw said. The settler's wife was too absorbed by her grief and anxiety to hear Mr. Atherton's request. "What is to be done with it?"

"In the first place it must be taken out of that band, or whatever you call it," Mr. Atherton replied, "and then split right down. Here is my knife."

When the garment had been operated upon there remained a length of strong calico nearly three feet wide and three yards long. "That will do well," he said. "Now we have to fasten this to the poles. How would you do that? It is more in your way than mine."

"I should roll it twice round the pole and then sew it, if I had a needle and thread. If I had not that I should make holes in every six inches and tie it with string; but unfortunately we have no string either."