Camp Fire Yarns of the Lost Legion

by G. Hamilton-Browne

Now, as I am trying to be a truthful narrator, I am bound to confess that the above is not a verbatim report of the oration spoken by Haimona, although the sentiments expressed in it are exactly similar and both contained a direct challenge; which challenge was immediately accepted, and as there was nothing further to squabble about, both parties went into committee to amicably discuss the coming fight, settle the details and sign the articles, which were as follows:—

1. That a fight should take place the following day on the island of Moutoa. 2. That the freedom of the right of road on the river should be the stake. 3. Seeing that the combatants were closely connected by blood relationship as well as by alliance, and that it would be bad policy to weaken the fighting strength of the combined Wanganui tribes by indiscriminate slaughter, it was therefore agreed that only 100 men a side should take part in the combat. 4. That as the Lower River natives were the owners of the island, they should land on the lower end before daylight. That the Hau Haus should land at the top end at daylight and that their disembarkation should be unopposed. 5. That both sides bound themselves to refrain from all ambuscades, tricks or trickery, but were to meet and fairly fight it out to the bitter end.

Next morning at grey dawn 100 picked men, of the Lower River tribes, were ferried over to Moutoa, landed and arranged themselves in order of battle, divided into two companies of equal strength, and each company was told off into three subdivisions, these being led by renowned warriors. The leading company or van was commanded by Tamehana Te Aewa, who was also C.O. of the whole outfit, who had under him Hemi Napi as leader of the right subdivision, Riwai Tawhitorangi leader of the centre and Kereti of the left. The supporting company was commanded by Haimona, but, through an error in tactics, it had been located 200 yards in rear of the van, a distance far too great for men armed with double-barrelled guns to render effective aid; and this error nearly caused disaster. To the tick of time the Hau Haus disembarked at the top end of the island but, alas! their pristine chivalry had been already tainted by their infernal religion, as they landed 130 men instead of the stipulated number, which was not cricket. They had also a powerful moral factor in their favour—viz. they (the Hau Haus) believed themselves to be invulnerable, while most of their opponents more than half believed the same thing, so that, notwithstanding their splendid courage and determination, very many of the latter considered themselves to be hopelessly handicapped in having to fight against men who were aided by angels. This nervousness must have increased as Tamehana led the leading company on to the attack, for when within thirty yards of the Hau Haus the centre and left subdivisions fired a volley, of which every bullet flew wide, not one single Hau Hau being hurt; of course this vile shooting had the effect of confirming the fears of the Lower River natives and exhilarating their opponents.

The latter made haste to return the volley, and just as they did so a Roman Catholic lay brother rushed in between the combatants, exhorting them to terminate this fratricidal strife. Poor devil, he met with the end that many men who interfere with family jars do meet with, as the volley finished him off before he could finish his first argument; and it has often been a matter of speculation to me as to whether he was a martyr or only an interfering busybody. This same volley also was a most disastrous one for the Lower River natives: Riwai and Kereti with many of their men fell dead, while the survivors of their own subdivisions, disheartened by the loss of their leaders, and now fully convinced of the invulnerability of the Hau Haus, broke their ranks and fell back in disorder. Hemi Nape and his men, however, refused to fly and in a few moments proved that at all events some of the Hau Haus were far from being immortal, much less invulnerable.

Fine fighters Hemi Nape and his boys, were and well they bore themselves, but alas! how could they, less than twenty in number, withstand such overwhelming odds?—so that though they fought like fiends incarnate still they were driven back and must have been quickly wiped out. Help, however, was at hand, for suddenly old Tamehana Te Aewa, with the roar of a wild bull, threw himself into the vortex of the combat and, begorra! he made things lively. You see, when the centre and left subdivisions gave way he tried to rally them, but failing to do so he returned alone to the fight, so as to throw in his lot with the lads who scorned to fly. Just at the moment he arrived Hemi had ordered his men to take cover, but that did not suit Tamehana, who charged the Hau Haus like a whirlwind and killed two of them with a clean right and left; then, throwing away his empty gun, he picked up a spear dropped by one of the dead men and drove it through a third one’s body, grabbing, as the dying man fell, his gun and tomahawk. The gun was unfortunately not loaded, but he made use of it by braining a fourth man with the butt and then sank the blade of the tomahawk so deep into a fifth man’s skull that as he tried to wrench it out the tough handle went to splinters. Immediately he seized his last victim’s gun and was about to use it when a bullet struck him in the arm, and he had just time to shoot the man who had wounded him when another smashed his right knee to pieces and put a termination to his day’s sport. When he fell the Hau Haus made a rush to finish him off, which rush was met by a counter-charge of Hemi Nape’s men, who, although they were all wounded, determined to die rather than allow old Tamehana to be killed or captured. Led by Marino, Hemi’s son, for Hemi himself had been shot dead a moment before, they threw themselves on the Hau Haus and made such a determined stand that it gave time to Haimona with his supporting company to come into action.

This grim old warrior had been originally posted too far in rear of the van and had lost some time in rallying the fugitives, whom he tongue-lashed out of their cowardly nervousness, his endeavours being helped by the scornful yells and entreaties of the men and women spectators, who, mad with excitement, watched the apparently lost battle from the bank of the river. Then promptly adding the whilom runaways to his own party, he rapidly advanced to make his effort. There was no fear now of the late fugitives turning tail again, for nigh crazy with shame and contrition, they would far sooner face a thousand deaths than be branded as cowards through the length and breadth of New Zealand.

Deflecting his advance to the right, he cleared the expiring struggle in which the remnant of Hemi’s men were still dying hard, and then by a quick change of front to the left he outflanked the Hau Haus and at close quarters poured in two death-dealing volleys that decimated the fanatics. Then without a moment’s delay “out tomahawks” was the order and, led by Haimona himself, the new-comers rushed madly into the fray. Immediately the aspect of the combat changed. Up to this time the Hau Haus had had much the best of it, but now fickle Fortune turned her back upon them and old Tamehana’s bearsark rush, together with the glorious stand made by Hemi Nape’s men, were to reap their reward; as from the moment Haimona’s party took a hand in the game the Upper River natives had to fight, not for conquest, but for their lives. The volleys they had received had killed several important chiefs and many men, while the furious charge of Haimona’s party on their left flank all but routed them; still they were Maori warriors, as brave as any men on earth, and although broken and confused they turned to meet the attack with the greatest courage.

Now began the last phase of a fight that Homer himself would have loved to sing about. Howling for blood, Haimona’s men rushed into hand-to-hand combat. Both sides had discarded their guns, both sides ceased from yelling as they came chest to chest, but the tomahawks gave out a sharp click, as they clashed against one another in the air, that provided the alto part to the sickening scrunch of the inflicting wound, the guttural grunt of the wounder and the sobbing groan of the wounded. Faith! it was a fine fight. The impetuosity of the desperate charge bore the Hau Haus backwards, and in spite of their furious efforts they were forced to continue the retrograde movement, for the Lower River Maoris, fighting as they were with their tribesmen and women looking on, outdid their best, while the men who had previously fled, madly anxious to obliterate their shame, and who, careless of wounds and death, only strove to kill, fought like demons. The Hau Haus were therefore steadily driven back, and as the bloody tussle continued they at last reached the shore of the island, when, unable to make a stand, or retire farther, those that remained on their feet were forced to plunge into the rapid current and attempt to escape by swimming. Of these but few reached the opposite bank, and of those who were lucky enough to do so twenty were captured by Mete Kingi, who, with 350 Lower River warriors, had watched the fight.

The end of the prophet Matene brought the whole show to a tragical finale. He had fought bravely through the fight; for, as it is only right to give the devil his due, I may here state that all of Te Ua’s prophets were game to lead any cracked-brained exploit they might have persuaded their misguided disciples to undertake, and consequently vacancies frequently occurred in the apostolic ranks. Well, Matene was still alive when the remnant of his men were forced into the river, so he had to frog it with them, and was swimming away for all he was worth when the eagle eye of Haimona spotted him. The chief turned to his aide-de-camp, Te Moro, and handed him his bone mere (a short battle-axe made out of whalebone and greatly used by the natives before the introduction of steel-bladed tomahawks), at the same time pointing out the fugitive and remarking: “There is your fish.” In plunged Te Moro, who, swimming rapidly, overtook his prey and grabbed him just as he reached the bank. In vain the prophet tried to save himself by his incantations: “Hau Hau, Pai Marire. Hau——” He gasped the remainder of his discourse, being interrupted by a smashing cut from the mere, and Te Moro swam back, towing the dead body, which he threw down at Haimona’s feet.

The fight being over, it was now necessary to count the cost. Out of the 130 Hau Haus who had landed 70 lay dead, 20 badly wounded and 20 were prisoners, all the balance, with the exception of one who was known to have made his escape, being probably more or less disabled, were drowned. The loss of the Lower River natives was 16 killed and 50 badly wounded; so that it may be called a very good fight indeed, second only to that remarkable combat between the two Kilkenny tom cats—but then they were Irish, you know.