Brave British soldiers and the Victoria Cross / a general account of the regiments and men of the British Army, and stories of the brave deeds which won the prize "for valour"

by Unknown

We had the pleasure, a few weeks ago, of seeing Lieutenant-General Sir Duncan A. Cameron, K.C.B., the officer commanding the forces in New Zealand, attach with his own hands the Cross of Valour to McKenna’s breast, and declare, in the presence of his own regiment, that a more chivalrous soldier had never been invested with this symbol of his Sovereign’s favour. Sir Duncan, at the same time, expressed his regret that he who had shared in the danger could not share in the reward, but rejoiced to think that Corporal Ryan’s death was in keeping with his life, which he had lost in trying to save a comrade from drowning. Three cheers were given for Ensign McKenna, and none joined more heartily in those cheers than Sergeant-Major Lucas, of the 40th Regiment, who had received the same decoration from the hands of the general at the close of the Taranaki war in 1861.

A brief sketch of the island, and the causes that have led to that and the present war, will not be without interest. The aboriginal inhabitants of New Zealand are known by the name of Maoris—a word which in their language signifies indigenous to the soil—and are about 60,000 in number. They are supposed to have emigrated, about four centuries ago, from the Society and Sandwich Islands, and to have dispossessed another race, many traces of whose existence are still to be found in New Zealand. In appearance they bear a striking resemblance to those gipsies who may still occasionally be seen in the neighbourhood of Norwood and the Crystal Palace. They are a fine, powerful, muscular race, naturally fond of war, and possessed of great energy of character. They have made great progress in civilization since the island was first discovered, in 1642, by Abel Tasman, a Dutch navigator, who named it after his own country. It was visited in 1769 and 1777 by Captain Cook, who took possession of it in the name of the English Government, and suggested that it should be used as a penal settlement. He introduced pigs, cabbages and turnips into the island, and his name is still familiar to the natives as one of their greatest benefactors. There are several fountains known as Cook’s Springs, and the rum he occasionally distributed among them is gratefully remembered as “Te wai toki a rangi”—Cook’s sweet water of heaven. While the natives were kind and hospitable to those who treated them well, they were ever ready to revenge any injury they received, and murdered the crews of several vessels of whose misconduct they had reason to complain. Thus, in 1809, the sailors on board the Boyd, an English ship, under the command of Captain Thompson, were massacred at Wangaroa. This melancholy event was the result of the captain’s imprudence. Among the passengers was a Maori chief, who had visited Sydney, and was now on his way to his native land. Being short of hands, the captain requested him to assist the sailors in working the ship. On his refusal to do so he was tied to the mainmast and flogged. This degrading punishment roused all the savage passions of his nature, but, disguising his feelings, he persuaded the captain to visit Wangaroa, of which he was the leading chief. All suspicion was disarmed by the friendly bearing of the natives, who were only biding their time. Watching for a favourable opportunity, they attacked the ship, and murdered the captain, the crew, and many passengers. A similar calamity had overtaken the crews of two French vessels, in consequence of their having unintentionally desecrated the place set apart for the burial of the natives.

When the Maoris were plundering the Boyd’s cargo, they came upon some boxes of seed, which was scattered about as useless. It took root, however, and in a few years the surrounding district was overgrown with garlic and parrot’s-bill acacia (Clianthus Puniceus), which yields a beautiful flower used by the natives as an ornament for the ear. After this the island was little visited except by whaling ships (the captains of which were sometimes so accommodating as to lend their ovens to prepare the banquets of human flesh so much relished by the Maoris) till 1839, when the New Zealand Land Company obtained a charter and began to form settlements in the south. It is worthy of remark, that so early as 1835 Great Britain formally recognised the independence of the natives and bestowed on them a national flag; but no sooner had the new company begun to buy extensive tracts of land from the natives, than the missionaries interfered and induced the home government to send out a governor. As a governor over an independent race would have been a contradiction in terms, the difficulty was obviated by inducing a number of natives to assemble at Waitangi, and to attach their signatures to a treaty in which they acknowledged the supremacy of our Queen. Rum and blankets were liberally distributed among the natives, who were ready to sign anything. Such was the origin of the treaty of Waitangi, on which alone our claims to the loyalty and obedience of the Maori race can be said to rest. It was a mere farce, unworthy of the ministers of religion who originated it—equally unworthy of the great nation who sanctioned it. As well might the nine tailors of Tooley-street, who dubbed themselves the men of England, have undertaken to dispose of the liberty of their countrymen, as the signers of the Waitangi treaty to barter away for rum and blankets the future independence of the Maori race. And yet it is in virtue of this worthless document, the authors of which in any civilized country would have been liable to an indictment for conspiracy, that we profess to treat the Maoris as a subject race, and make war against them as rebels when they try to assert their independence.

Notwithstanding the treaty of Waitangi, the Maoris continued to retain their own customs, manners, and laws, and to act in every way as an independent people. Their chiefs, far from acknowledging the supremacy of the British crown, frequently waged war against us and with one another. When they fell into our hands they were never treated as rebels. In short the Maoris tolerated our presence in the island because they found our colonists useful for purposes of trade; but when they discovered that the British population was constantly on the increase, and their lands fast slipping from their possession, they resolved to assert their ancient independence, and to pass such laws as would prevent the alienation of their property. They were willing that the colonists should remain subject to their own Sovereign and laws, but they claimed the same right for themselves, and in the exercise of that right elected one of their chiefs to be Maori king, and formed themselves into a league to prevent any lands from being sold by any individual member of a tribe without the consent of the whole. Such a league would at once be pronounced illegal in England, where it is a recognised principle that every man has a right to do as he likes with his own; but the Maori tenure of land is different. It rarely belongs to a single family or to a single individual; it is the property of the whole tribe, much in the same way as a common in England is the property of all whose lands are adjacent. Every member of a tribe has the right to hunt and fish over the land which belongs to the whole community; no man, not even a chief, has a right to dispose of any part of that land without the consent of the whole tribe. When a piece of land is sold the money is distributed equally among all who are entitled to a share, the chief rarely retaining anything for himself. The only way in which a piece of land can become private property is by an individual selecting and cultivating it with the consent of the tribe; it then belongs to all the descendants of the original cultivator, who may be dispersed among other tribes, and it cannot be sold without their consent. Now this peculiar tenure of land was the cause of the Taranaki war of 1860-61, and of the present war in which so many valuable lives have been lost. The establishment of a Maori sovereignty would have ended in nothing; the Maori king was a mere puppet in the hands of a few ambitious chiefs; the great body of the nation would never have acknowledged his supremacy; and the movement would have covered its originators with ridicule. But when the local government interfered with the rights of property, and violated the first principles of Maori law by purchasing from an individual land which belonged to the whole tribe, and enforcing possession by violence, they struck at the root of Maori independence, and brought on that fierce struggle of which we have not yet seen the end. The Maoris are fighting for their lands and liberty, while we are fighting for British supremacy. The settlers have already more land than they can cultivate, but this has not prevented them from coveting that which belongs to the natives. If they had waited patiently, a period would have arrived when the Maoris would have seen it to be to their own advantage to part with lands which they cannot turn to any profitable account, but they were unwilling to wait, and endeavoured to compel the natives to enter into their views. Such a policy was as imprudent as it was unjust; there were few troops in the colony; and when the natives flew to arms in 1860, the government had to appeal to the Australian colonies for assistance.

The appeal was not made in vain; all the troops that could be spared were despatched at once to the seat of war, including four companies of the 40th Regiment, detachments of which were stationed at Melbourne and Hobart Town. Sergeant-Major Lucas, who then held the rank of colour-sergeant, arrived in New Zealand in 1860, and took part in all the engagements we had with the enemy till the temporary cessation of hostilities in 1861. The Maoris do not fight in the same way as Europeans; it is part of their policy to avoid giving battle in the open field. Their mode of warfare is to conceal themselves in the bush, and to fire upon our men when off their guard; or to erect pas or redoubts, surrounded by a ditch, and surmounted by wooden palisades. Inclosed behind the walls of these pas, they coolly await the approach of our men, and pour upon them destructive volleys while they are advancing to the assault. When their position is no longer tenable, they evacuate the pa, and such is their perfect knowledge of the country that they often contrive to escape through the ranks of our men with little loss. The evacuation of a pa is not considered a defeat; they select a favourable site, and proceed at once to erect another, which has also to be stormed. Many valuable British lives are thus lost, and the war would be interminable, were it not that we may cut off their supplies and ultimately starve them into subjection.

The late war was carried on in the Province of Auckland; but it was in Taranaki, the capital of which is New Plymouth, that Sergeant-Major Lucas won his laurels. He is a fine, soldierly-looking man, a native of the South of Ireland. He entered the army at an early period of life, and has served eighteen years in the same regiment. One of his brothers, a soldier of the 40th, was severely wounded in the Taranaki war, and allowed to retire from the service with a pension: he himself, though he took part in every engagement, escaped unhurt, and now occupies the highest rank that a non-commissioned officer can attain. The war in Taranaki had been carried on with varying success till March, 1861: the British forces under the command of Major-General Pratt had erected a series of redoubts for the purpose of keeping the enemy in check and protecting the town of New Plymouth. These redoubts were occupied by detachments of our men, and skirmishing parties were daily sent out to scour the neighbouring bush, where the enemy were known to be lurking. On the 18th of March, 1861, a party consisting of about thirty men of the 40th Regiment was sent out in front of No. 7 redoubt, situated on the river Waitara, in search of the enemy. Between the redoubt and the bush there intervened an open space of some eight hundred or nine hundred yards in breadth, over which our men were allowed to advance without resistance; but no sooner had they entered a narrow defile, surrounded on either side by bush and fern, than a heavy fire was opened on them by an invisible foe. Captain Richards, who was in command of the party, threw out his men in skirmishing order, and ordered them to fire in the direction whence the smoke proceeded. The enemy being concealed in the bush had the advantage of being able to take deliberate aim, and several of our men were killed or wounded. Lieutenant Rees, who was next in command to Captain Richards, seized a rifle which a wounded soldier had dropped, and encouraged the men by his example to keep up a steady fire. At the same time he requested Colour-Sergeant Lucas to send two men to remove two of the wounded who were badly hit. As the men were preparing to execute this order, a fresh volley from the enemy placed one of them hors de combat, and a bullet hit Lieutenant Rees in the right groin. He staggered and fell, when Colour-Sergeant Lucas, with much presence of mind, ran up to his assistance, and sent him to the rear under the charge of the soldier who remained unhurt. Three wounded men and four stand of arms still remained on the field, and the gallant sergeant resolved to present a bold front to the enemy till he was relieved. Sheltering himself behind a tree, he opened a brisk fire on the enemy, and kept them at bay. So long as he remained behind the tree he was safe, but whenever he left this shelter to take aim, he became exposed to the fire of the enemy, who, deterred from advancing by his gallant resistance, endeavoured to shoot him down. Two soldiers had the courage to stand by him, and for a quarter of an hour they kept the enemy at bay without being hit, though they were exposed to a constant fire from a distance of only thirty yards. Several of the Maories were wounded, and carried off by their companions; the brave little band, anxious but not discouraged, still continued to hold out.

The amount of danger incurred by Sergeant Lucas may be learned from the following incident:—The tree behind which he found shelter had several creepers suspended from its top; a bullet from the bush hit one of these creepers and cut it in two at the distance of a few inches from his head. If the Maoris had been better marksmen the whole of the little party must have perished, and the wounded men have fallen into the hands of a relentless foe; but in moments of excitement the natives fire wildly, without taking aim at any particular object. It was to this fortunate circumstance that Sergeant Lucas and his two followers owed their lives; the enemy were excited, and so fired without precision. As it was, they were enabled not only to continue their resistance, but also to inflict considerable loss on the enemy. For a quarter of an hour the unequal combat was kept up till a party under Lieutenants Gibson and Whelan came up to their assistance, on which the enemy retired. Only one of the three wounded men recovered, and Lieutenant Rees, in consequence of the severity of his wounds, was obliged to return to England. It would be difficult to overestimate the importance of Sergeant Lucas’s gallant conduct on this trying occasion; he prevented the bodies of his wounded comrades from falling into the hands of the enemy, and saved four stand of arms. Nor was this all: the moral consequences of his heroic resistance were soon evident. The next morning the white flag was hoisted by the natives, and this was the last engagement in the Taranaki war.

In August, 1862, Colour-Sergeant Lucas was appointed sergeant-major of his regiment, and has continued ever since to discharge the duties of that office in such a way as to secure the confidence and esteem of his superior officers. His conduct was not overlooked or forgotten by the general in command. A full account of the affair was transmitted to the authorities at home, and the following notice appeared in the London Gazette of the 19th of July, 1861:—

“Colour-Sergeant John Lucas, 40th Regiment.—On the 18th of March, 1861, Colour-Sergeant John Lucas acted as sergeant of a party of the 40th Regiment, employed as skirmishers, to the right of No. 7 redoubt and close to the Huirangi Bush, facing the left of the position occupied by the natives. At about four o’clock P.M. a very heavy and well-directed fire was suddenly opened upon them from the bush and the high ground on the left. Three men being wounded simultaneously, two of them mortally, assistance was called for in order to have them carried to the rear; a file was immediately sent, but had scarcely arrived when one of them fell, and Lieutenant Rees was wounded at the same time. Colour-Sergeant Lucas, under a very heavy fire from the rebels, who were not more than thirty yards distant, immediately ran up to the assistance of this officer, and sent one man with him to the rear. He then took charge of the arms belonging to the killed and wounded men, and maintained his position until the arrival of supports under Lieutenants Gibson and Whelan.”