FIRST ALARMS — TAUREKA STATION — MASSACRE — EUROPEANS — NATIVES — SUBSEQUENT
MURDERS — DESTRUCTION OF PROPERTY — REFLECTIONS.
About midnight, November 9th, 1868, Mr. Firmin, a policeman,
who resided near the Patutahi ford of the Waipawa river, which
he and the male adults of three neighbouring families were accustomed
to watch, heard shots in the direction of Matewhero, two
miles from Firmin’s house. He woke his wife, but as it was not
unusual to hear the sound of shots by night, they considered the
sounds heard on this occasion as proceeding from friendly natives,
yet they were not entirely free from apprehension, and slept no
more that night. At dawn of day, Mr. Firmin went out to reconnoitre.
At the Patutahi ford, he saw a Maori, who appeared
desirous of avoiding Mr. Firmin, who hailed him to know the
meaning of more shots just then heard at Matewhero. The native
stopped, and appeared excited. He said the Hauhaus were killing
the white men. Nothing more definite could be extracted
from him, Firmin being ignorant of the Maori language, so Mr.
Firmin hastened to warn his neighbours, Wyllie, Stevenson, and
Benson, all married men with very young children. These men
and their wives, snatching up their children, fled along the bank
of the Waipaua, making for Turanganui, but the firing before
them became so heavy they feared they would be intercepted, so
they decided to cross the Waipaua, and escape to Murewai, on
the coast, by the right bank of the river. The Waipaua, except
at the few fords, is generally deep, but although some of the
women were nigh drowned, they got to the other side, and made
for the village of Tutari, a good man and faithful chief. He received
them kindly, and shewed them best how to escape. He
was urged to fly with them, but, being very ill, declined. He
afterwards lost his life and those of two children for assisting the
Europeans. Messrs. Wyllie, Firmin, and the rest pursued their
way, overtaking other families as they advanced. Finally, they
overtook Major Westrupp. Under his guidance, the survivors
south of the Waipaua retreated by a fearful bush country to
Mahia, where most of them shipped for Napier, the capital of
Hawke’s Bay province, at which place they safely arrived.
About an hour after Firmin and his neighbours left the village
where the chief Tutari lived, Te Kooti and 12 Hauhaus arrived,
and demanded where the Europeans had gone. Tutari declined
to tell, though Te Kooti promised to save his life if he would say
which route they had taken. Finding threats and entreaties of
no avail, Tutari and his two children were taken a few yards away
from the house, and killed by Te Kooti’s orders. Tutari’s wife
sat near with her uncle, compelled to witness the murders. When
her husband and children were dead, she was asked to reveal by
what road the white men went. She, too, was faithful. She
pointed out a track which the fugitives had not taken. One of
the Europeans, Mr. Wyllie, was especially obnoxious to Te Kooti,
for it was Mr. Wyllie who helped to capture Te Kooti in 1865.
After being mis-directed, Te Kooti rode off laughing, saying he
would cut slices of flesh off Mr. Wyllie until the latter died.
Tutari’s wife, Miriama, was spared, and afterwards escaped to
Turanganui.
About half-a-mile from Firmin’s house, Messrs. Hawthorne
and Strong resided. They, too, were warned on Tuesday morning,
first by Mr. Benson, and directly after by Sergeant-Major
Butter. Mr. Butter had been to Taureka, a station owned by
Messrs. Dodd and Peppard, where he intended to assist in shearing.
Arrived at the wool-shed, which stood about 400 yards from
the dwelling-house, he was attracted by a furious barking from
the chained-up sheep dogs, and wondered to see no one about.
So he walked up to the house, and round it. At the back door
he found Dodd and Peppard lying dead in their shirts on the
threshold. Throwing down his shears, he rode away to the Mission
premises at Waerenga-ahika, where he and other people
usually resided. After warning the inmates of Waerenga-ahika,
he made for Hawthorne and Strong’s, who with one friend and a
servant lad escaped. It was afterwards ascertained that one of
Dodd and Peppard’s men got away three miles on his road to
alarm Major Biggs, but was overtaken in his night-clothes by the
murderers of his employers and killed. Sergeant Butter pursued
the road to Matewhero, and had a narrow escape. As he neared
the residence of Major Biggs, where he was bound, he found the
Hauhaus were inside the premises, and their horses fastened to the
garden fence to the number of 12 or 14. He found all the habitations
between Matewhero and Turanganui deserted; every one,
Europeans and natives, who escaped, were flying for life, and
several houses were already in flames. About two miles from
Matewhero, he passed Mr. Mann’s house. Mann was lying dead,
shot and tomahawked; his wife was mutilated and partly burnt;
and their baby stabbed in several places. Mr. Mann’s family
resided nearer Turanganui than other victims, and his place
marked the limit of the massacre in that direction.
Captain Wilson’s house was the first attacked at Matewhero.
It stood in a garden, and was nearly equi-distant from most of
the other residences at that place. The Wilsons’ premises, indeed,
were centrally situated, being surrounded on all sides by
those of their neighbours, at distances varying from a quarter to
less than half-a-mile.
The assassins, guided by three resident and professed “friendly
natives” of Poverty Bay, came to Captain Wilson’s house on the
night of Monday, November 9th. The family had retired to rest
with the exception of Captain Wilson, who sat up late writing
letters for the English mail, which was to leave next day. It was
probably 12 or 1 o’clock when the Hauhaus knocked at his door
and told him they had brought a letter from Hirini-te-Kani, the
principal chief of Poverty Bay. Captain Wilson appears to have
suspected mischief, and told them to put the letter under the
door. Looking out, he saw a great many natives flitting about,
and, calling to his servant, Edward Moran, who slept in an out-building,
told him the Hauhaus were upon them, and desired him
to come to his assistance, which Moran immediately did, though
the Hauhaus tried to catch him as he ran across the open space
between the two buildings. They appear to have been afraid to
fire, lest they might rouse the sleeping neighbours. Finding they
could not induce Captain Wilson to open the door, the Hauhaus
proceeded to burst it in with a log of wood. After they had battered
down the door, however, they feared to enter the house,
knowing it would cost some of them their lives, as Captain Wilson
bore a well-deserved reputation for resolute bravery. For some
time Captain Wilson and Moran kept the murderers at bay, but
at last the Hauhaus set fire to both ends of the house. Captain
Wilson even then defended his home to the last extremity, and
only left it when the flames had singed his wife’s hair and scorched
his children’s feet. Captain Wilson headed his family in their
retreat from the burning mansion, revolver in hand, and his undaunted
carriage appears at that terrible crisis to have cowed his
murderers. The family comprised Captain Wilson, Mrs. Wilson,
four infant children, and the servant Moran. As the little party
left the house, the Hauhaus assured Captain Wilson they had
made up their minds not to kill him or his family. There was
just a chance they might keep their word; the enemy were numerous,
and it is probable considerations connected with the safety
of his wife and little ones induced him to put faith in the asseverations
of the cowardly wretches, who were all armed with rifles and
bayonets. To prove their good intentions, one of the Hauhaus
took up one of the children to carry. Captain Wilson, his wife,
and Moran carried the others, and the party, Hauhaus included,
proceeded towards Goldsmith’s house, about a quarter of a mile
distant. After walking about 200 yards, a Hauhau rushed upon
Moran and knocked him down. Another stabbed Captain Wilson
with a bayonet in the back. He fell with his little son James
(whom he carried) uttering a dying exclamation. The little boy
extricated himself from his dying father, and got away in the dark
to some scrub. Mrs. Wilson, hearing her husband’s death-cry,
turned round and uttered an exclamation of horror. The same
instant she was thrust through the body with a bayonet, her arm
being likewise pierced whilst trying to defend her baby. She fell
insensible, and received several other bayonet wounds, to the
number of four or five, besides being beat on the breast with the
butt end of a rifle. Yet she survived for several weeks, and related
how, when she became conscious the following day, she saw
all her family lying dead around her, with the exception of her
boy James. All that day (Tuesday) she lay unable to rise, with
the murderers in sight, busy at their awful work. Whilst she lay
helpless, a “friendly” native came and robbed her of her shawl,
leaving her attired only in her night-dress. On Wednesday
she managed to crawl to what had been her home, and got some
water. Still the Hauhaus were about, and many buildings were
being fired, at or near Matewhero; but she contrived to reach
a little outhouse left standing on her grounds, and hid herself.
In the interim, her little boy, eight years of age, after escaping
from the murderers, wandered about for several days, unperceived
by the Hauhaus, though one night he slept in a house to which
they came. He appears to have confined his rambles to Matewhero
and its vicinity, supporting himself by food found in those
houses not then destroyed. He said he “did not think it would
be exactly stealing,” as “everybody had run away.” He saw, he
thought, “as many Hauhaus as would fill the Turanganui redoubt.”
One day he went back to his old home, and found his
“father, and brother, and sisters, with Moran, all dead,” and
wondered “what the Hauhaus had done with his mother,” but
“thought they must have eaten her.” After all the houses were
burnt at Matewhero, he went “home,” and found his mother in
the little out-house, to their mutual surprise and delight. Here
he subsisted her for several days upon eggs and whatever he could
forage. At last the poor lady got a card and pencil from her husband’s
coat-pocket, and contrived, after four hours’ labour, and
many failures, to write the following:—
Could some kind friend come to our help, for God’s sake. I am
very much wounded, lying in a little house at our place. My poor
son James is with me. Come quick.
Alice Wilson.
We have little or no clothing, and are in dreadful suffering.
This note, after several attempts to reach Turanganui, six miles
distant, was delivered to Major Westrupp, at that place, by the
little boy, who had been picked up not far from Turanganui by a
party sent out on the 16th to rescue missing settlers, if alive. On
the same day, Mrs. Wilson was brought to Turanganui on a litter.
She was tended with the greatest solicitude, but though she rallied
for a time, and was at one time thought to be out of danger, she
ultimately succumbed to the terrible injuries she had sustained.
She died in Napier in December, and her death is thought to have
been hastened by the intelligence of the Pipiwhakau affair, which
occurred whilst Mrs. Wilson was on board the Sturt steamer, in
which vessel she had engaged a passage for Napier. Few ladies
have lived through such afflictions as those witnessed and suffered
by Mrs. Wilson.
It appears to have been Te Kooti’s intention to first kill those
officers who had distinguished themselves in 1865, judging the
settlers, if deprived of their leaders, would become confused, and
so fall an easy prey. There is no doubt Te Kooti was right in
his conjectures, as the result proved. Had Biggs, Wilson, or
even Walsh survived, many of the murders would not have occurred,
for neither of those officers would have remained cooped
up in the Turanganui redoubt to witness the wholesale destruction
that ensued. Knowing this, they were marked first for destruction.
The dwelling of Major Biggs, the Resident Magistrate, was
rather more distant than several others from Captain Wilson’s
house, yet it was the second residence attacked at Matewhero;
and it is a singular circumstance that no one at Matewhero seems
to have known what transpired at Biggs’ or Wilson’s until all was
over—screams, shots, and flames alike appear to have been neither
heard or seen.
About dawn of the 10th, Major Biggs and family were roused
from their beds by a knocking at the back door. Upon opening
it, Major Biggs, who was followed by a servant lad, was immediately
shot, and fell whilst telling the lad to get his rifle. The boy
ran to the front door, but was met by a number of Hauhaus.
Making for the back door, he fell over the wounded Major, but
got up and ran out into a flax bush. As he lay concealed, he
heard Major Biggs calling to his wife, “Emily, dear, the Hauhaus
are here, run for the bush.” The poor lady would not leave her
husband, but stood by him with her baby in her arms. She had
not long been married. Her servant, Mrs. Farrell, in her turn,
would not desert Mrs. Biggs, to whom she was much attached.
So they all died together. They were awfully mutilated. From
his retreat the boy heard their dying groans. Afterwards, settlers
flying for their lives witnessed the ghastly spectacle. The boy
alone escaped to tell the sad tale. He hastened as soon as he
could emerge from his hiding place to warn the neighbours, and
by his means many ladies and children escaped to Turanganui in
their night-clothes. He was subsequently rewarded by the inhabitants
of Auckland, who invested a handsome sum for his
benefit.
It is not intended to enter into a minute relation of all the
horrid butcheries which took place on that fatal 10th November.
In two days, 29 Europeans and 32 loyal natives were killed under
revolting circumstances. Subsequently, many loyal natives were
butchered by Te Kooti at various times. Some hapus of tribes
have been well nigh exterminated, and, including natives killed at
Ngatapa, most of whom had been carried captives to that stronghold
by Te Kooti, the loss of life must have been very great—probably
not less than 250 people in all were slain. Some settlers
escaped the massacre by miracle, but the instances are too
numerous to record them all. Mr. Daniel Munn and Mr. T.
Goldsmith were both riding towards Matewhero to ascertain the
meaning of shots heard so early in the morning. The former
found himself amongst the Hauhaus before he was aware, and
barely escaped with a severe bullet wound. The latter rode up
to the assassins of the Mann family, who were busy burning the
body of Mrs. Mann. Goldsmith seems to have been stupified by
the horrid sight, until a Hauhau snatched at his bridle. Fortunately
his horse swerved and galloped off, and his master, being a
good rider, escaped, though he was chased for several miles. Mrs.
James, who had not long been confined, hid with her children for
hours in some scrub close to her burning house; and one old man
named Garland passed Lieut. Walsh’s house whilst the murderers
were firing into it.
The exact mode by which many people died we shall perhaps
never know. Lieut. Walsh, who had greatly distinguished himself
on one occasion, was shot with his wife and child. Mr.
Walsh’s partner, Mr. Padbury, was killed at the same time. Mr.
Cadel, a storekeeper, just about to be married, and a very amiable
man, fell shot in front of his store. His faithful retriever dog
preserved Mr. Cadel’s body from mutilation by pigs for eight days,
having never deserted it from the 10th to the 18th November. Mr.
M‘Culloch was shot whilst milking. His wife and child fled to
the scrub, but were overtaken and killed. Mrs. M‘Culloch’s
brother, a child, standing by her when she was bayoneted, escaped
to reach Turanganui unhurt. Many people, after lying concealed
for awhile, contrived to get off clear, all in a pitiable plight, with
nothing on them but the clothes—chiefly night-dresses—in which
they escaped. Mr. and Mrs. Newnham, an aged couple with an
adopted child, were beguiled into the belief that the Hauhaus
would not hurt them, by two old Maori spies. These spies brought
the murderers to Newnham’s house on the succeeding day, November
11th. The Newnhams were killed; but Mr. Brown, a neighbour,
saw the murderers coming from Newnham’s to his house, and
escaped across a muddy river, whither the Hauhaus declined to
follow him. One of the spies was afterwards taken, but was let
off in a shameful way by the authorities, as were many other Hauhau
villains. The reason why they were allowed to escape the
halter was this—in most cases the murderers were connected with
friendly natives, and it was thought desirable not to offend those
“friendlies,” as they might prevent a settlement of the land question.
Two principal rivers divide the Poverty Bay plains—the Waipaua
and the Waimataha. With the exception of Messrs. Dodd
and Peppard, no Europeans were killed south of the Waipaua
until a later date, when one man and three boys lost their lives at
Pipiwhakau, whilst Colonel Whitmore looked on at the head of
400 men, he being busily engaged at the time settling the land
question in conjunction with Mr. Richmond.
It was between the Waipaua and the Waimataha that the massacre
of the 10th and 11th November, 1868, was perpetrated. All
the Europeans who lived between those rivers and escaped the
slaughter fled to Wilson’s redoubt, situated on the north side of
Waimataha, opposite Turanganui, at a distance of a quarter of a
mile from the sea. Most of the settlers reached the redoubt on
the first day of the massacre, and were joined by the scouts on the
evening of the same day. The scouts were 12 in number. They
were commanded by Lieut. Gascoigne, some of whose relatives
were lately destroyed in the massacre at the White Cliffs, Taranaki.
The scouts had been set to watch the passes into Poverty
Bay for a few weeks before Te Kooti’s arrival. No blame can
fairly be attached to the scouts, because Te Kooti evaded their
notice. They were far too few to keep efficient watch over a
tract of country 40 miles by 20. The blame, if any, must be attributed
to the Government, who would not even have appointed
scouts if the Poverty Bay settlers had not first taken the matter in
hand. Great credit is due to the men for forcing their way to
Turanganui at all hazards, when intelligence of the massacre
reached them, instead of escaping to Mahia, as they might have
done. Their arrival was gladly hailed by the few survivors who
escaped to Turanganui, and but for the scouts the redoubt could
not have been held in case of an attack by the Hauhaus. On the
second day of the massacre, several missing settlers reached the
redoubt, after narrow escapes. At the same time, some doubtful
friendly natives arrived. A few days later, all the remaining
Turanga natives, except those residing at Muriwai, joined Te
Kooti. Most of them voluntarily went over to the enemy. Of the
latter, many afterwards fell into our hands, but were almost invariably
“let off” whenever they chanced to be in a position to
assist in “settling” the Poverty Bay land question, although some
of them were known to be deeply implicated in the murders of
Europeans or loyal natives. Others of those who joined Te Kooti
of their own will deserted him afterwards, and “came in” with
piteous tales of the compulsion used by Te Kooti to make them
join him. These men, in almost every instance, deserted Te
Kooti only through fear of losing their lands. Some of them were
employed by Government in land negociations, and used their
influence to enrich themselves by laying claim to lands belonging
to defunct loyal or Hauhau natives. In this way, villains, who
deserved the halter, have attained a status they could never have
acquired but for the massacre at Poverty Bay.
Those natives who resisted the blandishments of Te Kooti and
his band retired to Muriwai, an almost (to natives) impregnable
pa, and joined its defenders. There were several reasons for the
Muriwai natives holding out against the Hauhaus. They possessed
and believed in a rival prophet, who assured them Te Kooti
would die by his hands. Besides, their pa was very strong, close
to the sea, and only six miles from Turanganui, across the bay.
From Turanganui they could and actually did receive assistance
from time to time, and they were perhaps doubtful of the treatment
they might receive from Te Kooti if they surrendered.
They numbered about 70 men, and could easily hold their own;
but although they remained nominally loyal, it by no means follows
they were heartily attached to our cause, and there is good
reason to believe that but for Mr. M‘Lean they might have fought
against us. Had they done so immediately after the massacre,
there is little doubt the quasi-Hauhaus who assisted to hold the
Turanganui redoubt would have deserted, and left the little garrison
of 40 Europeans to be overwhelmed by vastly superior numbers.
Through the exertions of Captain Read, all the women and
children but a few, who would not leave their friends, were safely
shipped for Auckland and Napier on the night of the 10th.
During that day, Captain Read toiled for many hours to overtake
two vessels in sight, and by his means the female part of the community
were placed out of danger, and by his directions, there
being no one else left to take command until Lieut. Gascoigne arrived,
the redoubts were provisioned and prepared for defence
from the threatened attack on the morrow. That night of the
10th will never be forgotten by the survivors of Poverty Bay.
The whole plain was lit up by blazing homesteads, which illuminated
the entire horizon, and enabled the pensive settlers cooped
in the redoubt to trace the passage of the vessels far out to sea
which were carrying away those loved ones they might see no
more.
Every man who had them stood to his arms and lined the parapets
that night. About half the garrison was armed, including
the “friendlies.” Little dependence was placed in the native
allies, as it was evident from their demeanour and language they
had no stomach for fighting. Afterwards, when reinforcements
arrived, they plucked up a little more courage, but, as a rule, the
friendly natives of Poverty Bay took care never to expose themselves.
In the subsequent fighting with Te Kooti they had little
if any share, which was reserved for the Ngatikahungunu and Ngatiporou
tribes.
A faint outline has thus been given of events that occurred at
the massacre of Poverty Bay. Some of the deeds perpetrated
cannot be even hinted at, and will never be generally known until
the great day of reckoning. Of the destruction of property, it is
sufficient to say the settlement of Poverty Bay, with the exception
of Turanganui and four or five houses, was annihilated; even the
few houses left inland were gutted of their contents. Former visitors
would scarcely recognize the district; friendly natives and Europeans
alike suffered; cultivations and gardens have been swept
away, and, most of the fences having been destroyed, live stock
have been dispersed in all directions. The fertile lands, unsurpassed
by any in the colony, now lie deserted and waste; and the
few survivors, huddled together as close as possible near the coast,
have been forced to build a blockhouse upon the margin of the
sea; and the spot upon which Turanganui stands represents as
much of the Poverty Bay district as the colony can fairly call its
own.
It has been shewn that this massacre was brought on by the
refusal of ministers to listen to repeated warnings. They were
told by Mr. M‘Lean and others what would ensue if Fraser’s force
was withdrawn from the East Coast. There is good reason to believe
ministers were influenced by envy of Mr. M‘Lean’s unrivalled
influence with the natives, and they have proved, by the animus
shewn in their later dealings with that gentleman, an exhibition of
petty spite and malevolence which have never been surpassed in
the annals of New Zealand.
Nor are ministers alone to blame for such a sad calamity. There
can be little doubt that it was mainly owing to the representations
of their creature and tool, the officer commanding the forces, that
Fraser’s force was withdrawn when most wanted. Colonel Whitmore,
by his arrogant, insulting demeanour, had deeply offended
almost the entire population, European and native, of Poverty
Bay. After his disastrous defeat at Ruakiture, the Poverty Bay
settlers were the first to expose what has since been demonstrated—his
utter unfitness for command; and he never forgave them or
lost an opportunity of venting his petty spleen when he safely
could. It is well known that previous to Ruakiture he addressed
a flattering “order of the day” to those Poverty Bay settlers who
accompanied him upon that disgraceful expedition, and that afterwards,
in the Legislative Council, he gave them unlimited abuse.
Intelligence of the Poverty Bay massacre was received everywhere
with feelings of horror for the victims, and commiseration
for the unhappy survivors. The Province of Hawke’s Bay came
forward with a large subscription, and immediate aid for those who
were most in want of assistance; one lady, Mrs. Tiffen, raised a
large sum in two or three days. Taranaki the ruined sent a beautiful
and touching address of condolence, with offers of assistance.
The kindness was keenly felt, though the assistance was gratefully
declined—for the reason that Taranaki out of her slender means
was already supporting many people who had lost their all in that
province. The distant province of Otago offered homes to the
survivors; and Auckland subscribed munificently. Other provinces
aided in the good Samaritan work; but it must be said that Hawke’s
Bay, a small province with not a numerous population, exerted
herself to relieve so much distress with a benevolence and energy
rarely seen; and it was natural it should be so, for the Hawke’s
Bay people saw what others at a distance could not see, and reflected
that the sad fate of Poverty Bay might some day become their own.