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.