CHAPTER XXIV.
ENSIGN M’KENNA AND THE VICTORIA CROSS.
Little is known in England of the war which has been carried on in New Zealand. Despatches are occasionally published, and the names of those who have distinguished themselves in the field are honourably mentioned; but the seat of war is too remote for the people of England to feel anything but a passing interest in a contest which they entered upon with reluctance, and would gladly see finished. And yet in this struggle between British soldiers and hostile Maoris, deeds of valour have been performed which history will not willingly let die; and the name of McKenna will be as gratefully remembered in New Zealand as those of the heroes of the Victoria Cross Gallery in England. We hope the day is not very far distant when he will figure in that gallery with the other brave men who have carved their way with their swords into Mr. Desanges’ temple of fame.
We listened to McKenna’s simple narrative the other evening in a rude hut at the camp of Awamutu, in the very centre of the seat of war. We have heard some of the most brilliant speakers of the day, and been enthralled by the magic power of their eloquence; but the interest excited by the charms of such oratory was less thrilling than that produced by the soldier’s plain story of deeds in which he himself was the principal actor. Before submitting that narrative to our readers, which we shall do as much as possible in McKenna’s own words, we may simply premise that, while of Irish descent, he is a native of Leeds, and has served seventeen years in the 65th Regiment, the greater part of that time as a non-commissioned officer. He is an intelligent, well-educated man, in the very prime of life, well adapted to occupy the rank which has been assigned to him, and worthy to wear the Queen’s own Cross on his breast. He has always borne an excellent character in a regiment which is distinguished for the excellent conduct of its soldiers, and the strong feeling of attachment which they cherish to their officers, from the kindness and consideration with which they have been treated during eighteen years’ service in this remote island. This is McKenna’s story.
“In the beginning of July, 1863, the 65th Regiment was stationed in Auckland. We were all expecting immediate orders to embark for England, and our hearts beat high at the thought of seeing our native land, which, after the absence of many years, had never been forgotten, and was now dearer than ever. The 2nd Battalion of the 18th Royal Irish had just landed, and were daily expecting to receive orders to embark, when, to our great surprise, we were told to hold ourselves in readiness for active service in the field. It was no use grumbling, so in a few hours we were ready. Some of us, I dare say, liked the excitement of a campaign more than the monotony of a long sea-voyage; and a few inspiriting words from the colonel made us forget all thoughts of home in the excitement of the coming struggle. On the 9th of July we marched from Auckland, and, though I say it myself, a better regiment than ours never was, and never will be, seen in this country. We bade farewell to our wives and children, and camped for the night at Otahahu, nine miles from Auckland. Thence we proceeded to the Queen’s Redoubt, which 300 of our men left on Sunday, the 12th of July, for Tuakan, under the command of our dear old chief, Colonel Wyatt, C.B. Tuakan is about sixteen miles from the Queen’s Redoubt. It stands on a precipitous cliff overlooking the Waikato river. It is the site of an old Maori fortification, and is naturally a place of great strength. The road was difficult and dangerous, with the dense bush on either side, but we reached Tuakan in safety, where we soon cleared the ground and erected a redoubt, which, in honour of our dear young Princess of Wales, was named Alexandra. If she saw it she would not be ashamed of it, for there is not a better one in the island. Well, perhaps the Queen’s Redoubt is a little better, as in right it ought to be; but in strength and beauty of design ours is next best.
“It was nearly finished on the 19th of July, when Colonel Wyatt withdrew one-half of the men, and left the other 150 under the command of Captain Swift. He is dead now, poor fellow, and no words of praise from me can reach his ear; but a better officer never carried sword or wore the Queen’s uniform. God bless him! I was only a poor sergeant; but if I had been his own brother, he could not have been kinder to me. His example told upon us all; we all liked our duties, and tried to do all we could to suppress the rebellion. His first act was to seize a number of rebel canoes and to man them with crews from his own detachment; in this way we contrived to seize large quantities of potatoes and other provisions from the hostile natives. But he did more than this: he extemporized a body of Forest Rangers, who scoured the dense bush around the redoubt, kept the natives at a distance. He had heard of atrocities they had committed on defenceless women and children, and longed for an opportunity of meeting them in the field. Poor fellow! he little dreamed that his first meeting with them would be his last. But such are the chances of war. If he had lived, the world would have heard more of him, for there was never a braver or a better officer in the British or any other service.
“Well, things went on as usual till the 7th of September. On the morning of that day we had a visit from Mr. Armitage, the resident magistrate of the township of Havelock. He had charge of five large canoes, manned by natives, and loaded with forage and provisions, which were proceeding from Camerontown, a friendly Maori pa, to the Queen’s Redoubt. The forage had been brought up from the Waikato Heads; the barque City of Melbourne had conveyed it there from Auckland. The river transport had been established in consequence of the difficulty of transporting stores by the great South Road; and as the canoes were paddled by friendly natives, no one imagined that there could be much danger of their being attacked.
“I shall never forget the morning of the 7th of September. Captain Swift was asleep in his tent when Mr. Armitage arrived. He wanted one of the large canoes we had seized, and I had to go three times to the captain’s tent before I could wake him. He was usually a light sleeper, but it was different on this occasion. It did not strike me much at the moment, but I have often thought of it since. Well, Mr. Armitage left, and nothing unusual happened till about eleven o’clock. I was down at the landing-place superintending some work, when all at once I heard the report of several shots. I stood and listened. The shots were followed by successive volleys, which gradually subsided into the regular, or rather irregular, firing of a smart skirmish. This went on for about a quarter of an hour. I knew from the direction of the sound that the fighting was going on at Camerontown. I hurried to the captain, and told him I was sure the rebels had attacked Mr. Armitage’s party. While I was speaking, all at once we saw a large volume of smoke curling up in the air close to the pa. We both came to the conclusion that the rebels had set fire to a house which had been recently built for Mr. Armitage.