War to the Knife 36

War to the Knife 36

The Forest Rangers were a distinguished corps in which to be enrolled.

From the beginning of the campaign their name had been in every one's

mouth. Their dress was picturesque, though toned down in regard to the

special services on which they were generally detailed.

 

More was expected of them by the public than of any other volunteer

force. And the public was not often disappointed. Von Tempsky was the

_beau ideal_ of a leader of irregular troops. Full of military ardour,

brave to recklessness, and of singular aptitude for command, the men

under him got into the habit of regarding themselves as _enfants

perdus_, knew not what fear was, and carried out with success sorties,

reconnoissances, and scout duty of the most daring and desperate

nature. The work was entirely to Massinger's taste. He found himself

among kindred spirits. His former volunteer experience stood him in

good stead. He was promised speedy promotion. He came to believe that

a military career in war-time was, after all, his vocation, and, as

affording a succession of exciting adventures and dramatic incidents,

the most desirable of all professions.

 

The minor successes gained by the Waitara tribes before November,

1860, had much elated the Ngatiawa, so that they conceived the idea of

taking possession of the Mahoetai hill, close to the main road and near

the Bell Block stockade. More than a hundred Ngatihauas and Waikatos

established themselves there on a knoll surrounded by flax plants and

_raupo_ swamp. A combined attack of the 40th and 65th Regiments, with

the militia, stormed the position. The volunteers and a company of

the 65th were told off to the assault, which they made in good style.

The Maoris stood their ground well, killing and wounding some of the

assailants, but eventually were driven out of their rifle-pits. They

took refuge in a swamp, but, the raupo being fired, fled for their

lives. They lost thirty-four killed and fifty wounded. Several chiefs

lay dead, including Taupo-rutu of Ngatihaua. Two were killed and four

wounded of the volunteers.

 

After this affair two companies of the Forest Rangers were detailed,

under Captains Von Tempsky and Jackson, for the purpose of scouring

the forest between the Waikato and Auckland. Life and property in

the settled districts had become insecure. To the great joy and

satisfaction of Messrs. Slyde and Massinger, they found themselves

in the first-named company, and were soon in the thick of a smart

skirmish, in which two officers of a militia company were killed and

half a dozen rank and file wounded, the enemy acknowledging more than

double.

 

They were now ceaselessly occupied in scouring the bush and moving

from place to place, for weeks together having no settled camp or

abiding-place. On the Waiari stream, when sent to clear the enemy out

of the river-scrub, they killed five and took several prisoners in a

very short onset.

 

A more serious engagement followed, when at Waiheke they were camped

with the Arawa, two hundred strong, and found the enemy, composed

of Ngaiterangi, Whaha-tohea, and Ngatiporou, awaiting them near Te

Matata. The position was well chosen: a deep stream in front, on their

left flank a raised beach, their right on the sea. The Forest Rangers

carried the creek with a rush, well supported by the Arawa, after which

the enemy waited no longer, but, pursued by the Rangers, fled until the

Awa-te-Atua river was reached. The British loss was light, but included

Toi, the brave old chief of the Arawa. The enemy lost seventy men.

 

Here Massinger had an opportunity of witnessing a characteristic

incident of Maori warfare. A celebrated chief of the Whaha-tohea, being

taken prisoner, fully expected to be put to death. Captain Macdonnell

took him under his protection, telling him that he had nothing to fear.

From the men probably not, but Macdonnell had not calculated on the

feelings of a bereaved wife. Toi's widow, "wroth in wild despair,"

persuaded some one to load a rifle for her, and walking up to the

chief, blew his brains out. The tribe, after much argument, came to a

decision much resembling that of Bret Harte's jury at White Pine, viz.

"Justifiable insanity."

 

"Must be in luck now," said Mr. Slyde one morning, after an orderly had

been seen riding into camp. "Shouldn't wonder if the general had got

some special work cut out for us."

 

"I hope so," replied Massinger. "We'll know soon, as Warwick is talking

to Captain St. George, whom Von is sure to give the first order to. Now

both are called up. Something on by the look of Warwick. Here he comes."

 

"Well, where are we to go, most noble earl and king-maker? Route to the

Uriwera or the Reinga?"

 

"There's an off chance of the last place for some of us," said Warwick,

who didn't care for Maori jokes, detached, as by education and travel

he had become, from his maternal relatives. "The route is to the Patea

River near the edge of a forest, where the whole of the tribes of the

North Island might hide. The villages there are not exactly in trees,

but nearly as hard to climb up to."

 

"All the better--give us new ideas," said Slyde. "Tired of this flat

country work.

 

'My heart's in the Highlands,

My heart is not here;

My heart's in the Highlands,

A-chasing the deer.'

 

What a country this would be for red deer! By the way, I wonder if I

shall ever have the luck to pot a stag of ten? No saying; come some

day. When do we start, and how many men?"

 

"Two companies, fifty each. Daylight in the morning. Camp at

Kakaramea."

 

Stationed at this inviting locality, where, as Mr. Slyde remarked, the

country consisted of hills without valleys, rivers without bridges, and

inconvenient cliffs thrown in, the hawk eyes of Warwick discovered a

track leading up the face of an almost perpendicular cliff.

 

"This track goes up the cliff, but how are _we_ to go up?" asked

Massinger. "A goat couldn't do it."

 

"Do you see those climbers carelessly thrown along the track?"

 

"I do see some supple-jack here and there."

 

"Those," said Warwick, "are Maori ladders, which you will find strong

enough when it is your turn to try them. Of the two, I would rather

trust to them than ordinary rope."

 

"When do we start?" asked Massinger.

 

"Not today, or perhaps tomorrow. They have scouts on the watch. The

major won't move until they get careless. Then a midnight affair."

 

"Regular 'Der Freischutz' business," said Slyde. "Hour midnight.

Circle. Skulls neatly arranged. 'Zamiel, come forth!' etc. Owls in

forest, please attend. Come to think, we _are_ rather in the Freischutz

line. If we get back to Auckland one of these fine days (or years),

good idea for private theatricals."

 

"We shall have them in private and public," said Warwick, "before the

season's over. Likely to end up with a tragedy, too."

 

"Tragedy or comedy, we shall be in the front row," said Massinger;

"but, the overture not having commenced, we can't criticize the

performance. Our _jeun premier_, Von Tempsky, however, would do

honour to any opera in Europe. What a romantic-looking fellow he is

in his undress uniform! Calm, yet determined-looking, an __EXPRESSION__

which would never alter in the face of death. Hair worn longer than

we Englishmen affect, but it becomes some people. As a fashion it's

certain to come in again. Cavalry sabre, forage cap, blue tunic, boots

to the knee,--there you have him. He would have been a _Feld_ some day

if he had remained in the Imperial service."

 

"Better that he is with us to-night," said Warwick. "Besides being a

first-class leader, he is one of the smartest scouts that ever picked

up a track. Did you ever hear what he did at Papa-rata? Many a man

wears the Victoria Cross for less."

 

"No--that is, heard generally. Tell us about it," said Slyde. "Afraid I

shouldn't do much in that line."

 

"Nor I either," said Massinger. "I am all ears."

 

"You'll never be all eyes, captain," said Warwick, with a grim smile.

"And by Maori custom a captured scout is doomed to tortures that can't

be told. I always keep one shot in my revolver."

 

"For whom?" asked Massinger.

 

"For _myself_, if ever I'm 'jumped,'" answered Warwick, who had

acquired, among his other experiences, a few miner's idioms. "But

here is the story. The general wanted a sketch of the enemy's works

at Papa-rata, which they had occupied in force. Our Von undertook the

service--sort of forlorn hope business--and, like everything he ever

began, carried it out thoroughly. He managed to hide himself in the

scrub and flax in the very midst of the natives, and, far worse for

discovery, their prowling dogs, popularly supposed to wind a white man

a mile off. There he calmly sketched the position, and got safe back

into camp. They gave him his commission for it."

 

"And well he deserved it," said Massinger.

 

"So say I," chimed in Slyde. "Good thing about a war, attracts best

fellows of all nationalities--Johnnies that prefer discomfort and revel

in danger; used to light marching order, too. Sort of war correspondent

business; murder and sudden death thrown in. Deuced exhilarating when

you come to think of it."

 

"Do you know, I find it so," answered Massinger, entering into the

joke. "And our light marching order is a triumph of economy of space.

Nothing approaches it but a middy's wardrobe, and he has a ship to

carry it. I must have myself photographed when we--may I say _if_--we

return to camp. Let me see--Forest Ranger, 'in his habit as he lived;'

applicable to either case, you see. Item--_Swag_. Did I think I

should ever carry one? One blanket, one great coat, twenty rounds of

ammunition, all put up in a waterproof; three days' rations of meat

and biscuit; half a bottle of rum. Revolver, carbine, cartridge-box,

tomahawk--all most useful, not to say ornamental, when sliding down

precipices in the dark, as we did on entering camp last night."

 

"Camp accommodation; don't forget that," added Slyde.