Transcript for The Parihaka picnic

The Parihaka Picnic

The Parihaka Picnic;
November, 1881.
by
W. H. Trimble.

“Begin at the beginning: and go and till you come to the end: then stop.”
Alice’s Adventures.

The Parihaka Picnic: 1881.

1. Preliminary
After the Taranaki wars of the “sixties” no definite terms of peace were agreed to with the Maoris. Hostilities ceased because the Maoris were exhausted. They returned to their settlements to live peaceful lives, and cultivate the soil: also to nurse their wounds, together with their resentment. The colonial government confiscated an immense territory by proclamation in the New Zealand Gazette. But excepting a few limited areas laid out in rather futile Military Settlements, possession of this land was neither given nor taken. When the land was confiscated, promises were made to the rebels that their cultivations should be returned to them; together with sufficient land for them and their descendants to live on to the end of time. But as no steps were taken to fulfil these promises, the old warriors lived in a condition of chronic discontent; and their sons were being brought up to do so likewise.

2. Te Whiti
At Parihaka, a Maori settlement near Cape Egmont, a prophet appeared, whose name was Te Whiti: his pretensions to infallibility being supported by a local chief, named Tohu. Te Whiti’s eloquence and mysticism attracted large numbers of Maoris from all parts of Taranaki; and even from remote settlements in other parts of the North Island. The principal objects of Te Whiti’s preaching appear to have been, first, the propagation of his own peculiar system of theology; second, the ventilation of Maori grievances against the New Zealand government and lastly, the maintenance of peace between Maori and Pakeha. He said to a large meeting, in 1876 – “You have made war, and you have vomited war.”

3. Obstructive Tactics
When, in 1879, the Lands department commenced a comprehensive survey of the confiscated lands, the Parihaka Maoris, directed by Te Whiti and Tohu, pursued a policy of obstruction which included turning the surveyors off the land, and pulling up the survey pegs. And they protested against European occupation of the so-called Military Settlements by ploughing up certain settlers’ grass paddocks and garden lawns. A large force of Armed Constabulary was concentrated in Taranaki; and many arrests were made. Parliament passed special legislation for the preservation of peace. And a Royal Commission was appointed to inquire into the Maoris’ grievances.

4. Taranaki Light Horse.
Considering how the settlers had suffered from hostel ravages in the days of the wars, it was rather strange that in the middle “seventies” there were so few volunteers in Taranaki. The Defence department, tho’ it kept up a permanent staff in New Plymouth, gave but scant encouragement to volunteering. And so the entire settlement was open to any hostile movement that the Maoris might choose to start. When I arrived in Taranaki in 1875, there was but one volunteer corps in the province – the Taranaki Light Horse. This company was commanded by Captain F.J. Mace. Captain Mace held the New Zealand cross, for carrying despatches thro’ enemy country, and other conspicuously brave conduct. In or about October, 1875, I became a member of the this volunteer company; but it was just about disintegrating at that time, and by the middle of 1877 it had ceased to exist.

5. Taranaki Rifles
In or about 1876, Mr H. Eyre Kenny, the District Court Judge at New Plymouth, who held a Captain’s commission in the New Zealand Militia, organised an infantry volunteers company in New Plymouth. This corps was known as the Taranaki Rifle Volunteers: and after the Light Horse company had disappeared the T.R.V. was the only volunteer company in Taranaki. This company was the successor of the Taranaki Volunteers, who fought the Maoris at Waireka, on March 28th, 1860. There used to be a flag in New Plymouth, with the word Waireka inscribed on it. I hope that flag has not been lost or destroyed; it was a memento of very strenuous times. The original officers of the T.R.V. were Captain Kenny, Lieutenant Ellis, and Sub-Lieut. Hoskin. Lieut. Ellis had served in the Imperial Army. Subsequently Capt. Kenny left New Plymouth when Lieut. Ellis became Captain of the company; Sub-Lieut. Hoskin became Lieutenant; and Sergeant W.F. Brooking was raised to the rank of Sub-Lieutenant. Lieut. Hoskin commanded the right half company; and Sub-Lieut. Brooking the left half company. Being the left hand man of the front rank, my experiences of Lieut. Hosking was more general than particular; he was however an enthusiastic volunteer, and a champion rifle-shot. From personal experience I may saw that Sub-Lieut. Brooking was an excellent officer. There was to be confusion in regard to the title Sub-Lieutenant; for it is the same title as Second Lieutenant and Ensign. The old fashioned
term for Ensign being Ancient. Sir John Falstaff’s subordinate officers were Lieut. Bardolph and Ancient Pistol. The same rank in the cavalry was formerly Cornet.

6. Taranaki Mounted Rifles
In 1879, the Maoris gave a great deal of trouble, interfering in regard to the survey of the Waimate plains, ploughing the settlers’ lands, and other extravagances; and many companies of volunteers were enrolled, armed and drilled. A cavalry company was enlisted in New Plymouth, known as the Taranaki Mounted Rifles: the Captain was James Davidson, and the Lieutenant, James Caddy Davies. Davidson had been in the British military service, tho’ in what capacity I do not know; and had had experience of warfare in South Africa. He had also fought – in command of a brigade – in the American civil war of the early “sixties.” In after years Captain Davidson was, several times, Mayor of New Plymouth. The Mounted Rifles was a very fine company: the men were good riders, and they were well drilled.

7. Temporary companies
At that time also, there were many applications for enrolment in the Taranaki Rifles: but as most of the men did not care to guarantee membership for three years (which was, I think, the regulation term of service) an additional company was enlisted in New Plymouth “for the war”: and I joined this latter company as a private. We put in a good deal of time at drilling and target practice. But the Native difficulty gradually died away; and this company was disbanded about the middle of 1880.

8. Defence forces
The permanent defence forces were the Armed Constabulary and the New Zealand Militia. In 1879, the former numbered about seven hundred officers and constables. Detachments of this force were stationed in various parts of the North Island where the Maoris were suspected of disloyalty to the Colonial Government. The training was military, and the A.C. Force constituted a very formidable body of men. The Militia had not been called out for many years. Service in this force was compulsory: the recruiting was done by allot. The militia remained (on paper) the last line of defence, until the territorial army was organised.

9. Militia officers
There were many settlers in Taranaki who, having served (some of them with conspicuous bravery) as Volunteer or Militia officers during the Maori wars, still held commissions in the N.Z. Militia. And in appointing officers for the new Volunteer companies, it was usual (tho’ there were plenty of exceptions) to choose from these veterans. I have no doubt that most of them were brave men; in fact I have been told that some of them were “perfect demons” when fighting was going on. But when they were granted commissions in the Volunteers of 1879, most of them were quite unable to drill their companies, and very few of them seemed to think it worth while to learn. And the experience of being put thro’ the exercises by the drill-instructors, particularly on such occasions as inspections and important parades – with their incompetent Militia officers looking on, more or less helplessly – was a rather humiliating one. I do not know what the system may be now; but in those days the appointment of officers was made by the men; who elected the most popular candidates, without any regard to their fitness. Of course, there is no reason why the organisation of the military forces, and of other state institutions, should not be democratic: but equally of course, no incompetent person should be eligible for election. Several of those Volunteer companies of 1879 were thus commanded by incompetent officers: and if the men had had to go into action without drill-instructors to tell the officers what to do, it is rather hard to say what kind of orders would have been issued, and how such orders would have been understood.

10. Militarism
For many years after the Imperial government had taken possession of New Zealand, the population of Maoris in the North Island greatly exceeded that of the white people; and as the two races were not always on very friendly terms, the Defence Department enlisted volunteers to defend the settlers from hostile attacks. The object of the volunteer movement was “Defence, not Defiance.” The Parihaka incident was the last hostile movement made by any great body of Maoris. After 1881 military enthusiasm died a natural death: and during a long period of peace, voluntary militarism gradually degenerated into sport. The war in South Africa, which changed the aspect of volunteering from sport to imperialism, was followed by the compulsory territorial law. The citizen soldier disappeared; and New Zealand became a prey to rampant militarism. “To honour we call you, nor press you like slaves,” ran the old song. But compulsory service being just about as tyrannical as the press-gang of former days, is a nail in the coffin of democracy, a reversion to militant spread-eagle imperialism.

11. Hiroki; Taranaki Rifles
In 1881, the Parihaka Maoris again become troublesome. As Te Whiti had not been arrested, the Maoris were of opinion that the white people were afraid of him: they took to regarding Parihaka as a City of Refuge: and when a Maori committed a crime – in almost any part of the North Island – against a white settler, he usually fled to Parihaka; where he supposed that Te Whiti’s miraculous powers would shield him from harm. Among such characters as these was a Maori named Hiroki; who had committed a murder. One of the sights of Parihaka that visitors were expected to enjoy, was the spectacle of this criminal marching about the village, accompanied by an armed guard of Maoris. After lengthy and fruitless negotiations with Te Whiti the Hall-Bryce cabinet decided that he and Tohu, the murderer Hiroki, and several other offenders must be arrested. To do this it was necessary to assemble an armed force large enough to completely surround Parihaka: but as the Armed Constabulary were not sufficiently numerous, the Volunteers thro’ out New Zealand were called upon to assist. At this time I became enrolled in the Taranaki Rifles: my particular friends F.W. Richmond, Thomas Wildman, and William J. Shaw volunteering at the same time. We constituted the “four” on the left flank of the company, I being the left hand man of the front rank. I was employed in the Lands Department at that time, and I supposed that if we were called out for active service there might be some difficult about leaving my official duties. But the local head of the Department gave me leave to go, without reference to Wellington: saying that my
absence would be quite justifiable; and that no inconvenient questions were likely to be asked.

12. Nelson volunteers
Our company was the last of all the volunteers to be sent away; and the first to return after the campaign was over. A very large number of volunteers was despatched from all parts of New Zealand. Most of them were landed on the beach at Opunake. But the Nelson men, and I think the Thames Scottish, landed at New Plymouth, and marched to the front from there. I recollect the landing of the Nelson contingent: there was a dense crowd of people in Devon Street to welcome them: and it seemed a pity that there was no turn-out of local volunteers; and that New Plymouth did not at that time possess a brass band. But a few local officers appeared in uniform, and mounted on charges; amongst whom I remember seeing my old friend the late Dr P.J. O’Carroll. After the volunteers and the crowd and stood waiting, with no ostensible object, for half an hour or so, the orders were given in rapid succession, “Attention! – shoulders – arms! – [fours?] – left! – quick – march!” And away went the Nelson men, amid the cheers of a Taranaki crowd.

13. Ordered away
A few days after this, orders came for our company also, to march. We fell in, in front of the old Militia office, in Gill Street and started at about ten o’clock in the morning. Just as we were leaving, my departmental chief thrust into my hands an immense meat pasty – prepared on purpose for me by his kind lady – as a stop-gap; in case I became hungry on the road. With many thanks, I stuffed this treasure into my haversack; and waved my friend an adieu, as we moved away. While alluding to this pasty, I must place on record that fact that it made a capital dinner for our “four”: that it was the most delicious thing of the kind that any of us had ever tasted: and that after eating it, we adjourned to the Oakura hotel, where we imbibed long beers all round, wishing health, prosperity and long life to the lady who made it. I have completely forgotten what streets we immortalised with our martial tread as we left the town: but for quite a long way we were cheered by male citizens of all ages; and “adieu’d” by ladies waving their handkerchiefs, or calling “good-bye you volunteers”; until I am sure we must have thought ourselves immensely fine fellows. After leaving the town we marched at ease, and therefore our appearance was not nearly so neat, and soldierly, as at first. But we kept on at a good sound pace, notwithstanding.

14. Omata; and Oakura
At Omata, we halted for about half an hour: and at about one o’clock we arrived at Oakura, where we halted for dinner. Here the company was provisioned with food purchased at the local shops or hotels. But my friends sat down with me to the immortal pasty, which proved ample for the four of us without other assistance than a glass of beer to wash it down with.

15. The Day’s March
But we had at least ten more miles to travel, so after a dinner-time halt of rather more than an hour, we were once more on the march. A few miles of south of Oakura, some of the men began to be tired; and these were accommodated with occasional lifts in the baggage-cart. Of course, some of the men were not such good pedestrians as others: many had never walked a stretch of five miles in their lives. A few very mad walkers were so tired before we reached Okato, that they declined to go on with the adventure; and returned to New Plymouth next day. But in such volunteering experiences as I had, I do not recollect a solitary suggestion that the men should be trained to long marches. We simply assembled on the parade-ground; went thro’ the various evolution of drill for not more than ninety minutes, on soft and level grass land; and when dismissed we could not have moved more than five miles at the outside. I may add that personally I am and have always been a good walker. In the late “seventies” and early “eighties” I frequently tramped between twenty-five and thirty miles in a day, with a minimum of fatigues and a maximum of enjoyment, over rough country or hard roads: but there could have been few men of our Volunteers company who indulged in so much exercise of the kind as I did. A vendor of refreshments, driving a covered van, assisted some of the laggards. This man followed us from New Plymouth; and was enterprising enough to overtake us a little way south of Omata, where he guessed that some of the men would be knocked up and ready to fly to anything in the nature of liquid refreshment. Fortunately, his load of bottles did not include spirits; had it done so, the consequences might have been disastrous, or at least scandalous. I never heard what kind of business he did: I did not patronise him. On the next morning, as we were leaving Okato, he returned to New Plymouth. Before starting, he complained that some of our men had robbed him. But I never heard any details, or whether he tried to prove his charges. To keep the laggards from feeling too tired, and to keep the whole company moving at an even pace, some of the men started singing, but very few of the songs met with any response. I remember that a man known to some of his mates as Anno Domini attempted to start Hearts of Oak; which met with a most discouraging reception, consisting of a chorus of screams, yells and cat-calls, which effectually closed “A.D.”’s mouth for the rest of the day. Our Bugler, (R. O’Donnell) was joined for the day by Private E. Howell, who also played the bugle; and who had brought his instrument. Towards the end of our day’s march these two men were very good indeed, plating bugle-marches; some as solos, and others as duets; tho’ they must have been as foot-sore as any of us.

16. Okato
All the way from new Plymouth the road was hard metal, and very hilly: and at 6.30 p.m., when we reached Okato, several of the men were quite knocked up; and all of us were weary. Here, the baggage-cart was unloaded; and there was a great sorting and unpacking of swags. Then our evening meal, consisting of tea, bread, and meat, was brought from parts unknown. After tea, we loafed; or else strolled about the neighbourhood until bed-time. Bed-time meant that we were to make ourselves as comfortable as possible on the floor of the local school-room. There was not, however, much comfort for any of us: for what with having to sleep in our clothes; and the hardness and flatness of the floor; and the inevitable fleas; and some of the men being unduly excited with sundry injudicious potations, and consequently devoting most of the night to blasphemous and obscene language; - few of us passed a night suited either for refreshing us after the fatigues of the day, or contemplating with equanimity those
of the morrow. But most evil things come to an end in good time: and shortly after daylight, most of us were in the open air, having a wash; or [?] a run up and down the road, to work the stiffness out of our joints. Then came breakfast, and then a packing of swags: after which we started on our march to Pungarehu.

17. Pungarehu
The only memorable feature of that part of our expedition was that several of the rivers, some of which were both deep and rapid, had not been bridged: and we had to cross them on poles which had been slung across, and made fast with wire. Some of the men were so timid, and some so [?], about going over these apologies for foot-bridges, that I was surprised at there being no accidents; for the poles swung very unpleasantly. But fortunately we crossed all the streams without mishap. After an easy morning’s march, we reached Pungarehu; where our first business was to pitch our tents. But before performing that operation, we had to divide ourselves into “messes”: a tent being allocated to each “mess.” The non-commissioned officers were called out of the ranks; and we were told that each represented a tent: we were then ordered to choose our tents. Most of the men had already made their respective choices: but all that our “four” had decided upon was to keep together. And so, on the word of command being given, we moved to the nearest sergeant, who happened to be the senior sergeant of the company – Sergeant Reilly: and tho’ he was at that time almost a stranger to us, we soon found him a capital mate to be associated with. Under the sergeant’s directions we pitched our tent: after which we were provided with some dinner.

18. Camp life
This was the last meal cooked for us: after that, each tent had to cook its own food. Each man in the tent (excepting the sergeant) took his turn as “tent-orderly” for the day: his duties being to represent his tent at the distribution of bread, meat, etc.; prepare the meals; keep the tent tidy; and make himself generally useful to his mates. With regard to the meals, the tents had to [?] [?] about to have the rough joints, such as shin of beef, [ flap of loin of ?] mutton, etc. . I have seen such pieces of meat thrown away, and a tent go on short commons for the day; owing to none of the men having the remotest idea how to cook them. But in this respect our tent was more fortunate than were some of the others: for my friend Thomas Wildman had had experience of volunteer camps in England; where he had learned how to convert these rough, uninviting pieces of meat into savoury soups and stews. We were expressly forbidden – under heavy penalties – to steal vegetables out of the Maori cultivations; but the prospective penalties – whatever they were – did not prevent our expropriating as many potatoes and onions as we required. So thanks to our comrade’s skill, our tent soon required the reputation of being the best fed in the camp. I heard of some (or perhaps only one) of the tents being liberally supplied with Maori pork; but do not know what truth there was in the rumour: such a luxury was not known in our tent. On the day of Te Whiti’s surrender, I saw one of our men trying to stick a pig with his bayonet but tho’ the chase was an exciting one, the pig got away unhurt. There were seven of us in the tent – the sergeant, the officers’ orderly, “Anno Domini,” F.W. Richmond, W.J. Shaw, T. Wildman, and myself. The sergeant was a Crimean veteran, and a really good tent-mate to live with: he was up to all the handy
ways of camp life; and in the evening, when there was nothing to do but talk and smoke, his anecdotage of his military experiences was of great interest. The most memorable of his reminiscences were doleful tales of the food supplies to the armies in the Crimea; such as rotten meat, and biscuits swarming with weevils.

19. Incompetents
This expeditionary force having been called out in a hurry, included a few men who were not competent to undertake the duties usually expected of soldiers. Many had scarcely been drilled. I heard of a man from Wellington who did not understand how to load a Snider rifle. He appeared to have had some old-time experience of a muzzle-loader: and when the order was given to the company to load rifles, one of the officers saw this man break the bullet off a [brass?] cartridge, pour the powder down the barrel of his rifle, and try to force the bullet into the muzzle with his ramrod. He told my informant that he thought the breech-block was intended to facilitate cleaning the barrel. I heard also of a man in another company who was considered so incapable by his mates that they presented a round robin to their officers, requesting that he be deprived of his ammunition; as in case of actual fighting, they feared he would do more harm to his own side than to the enemy. I have stated that “Anno Domini” was one of my tent-mates: his place in the ranks was somewhere in the centre of the company; while we – as I said before- were on the extreme left. Our experience of him in the tent was that he was “a bit dotty,” and we excused him from all tent and guard duties, saw that he had plenty to eat, and concluded that he ought to be armed with blank ammunition: he was probably the only quite incompetent man in our company.

20. Parihaka
We had no sooner settled down into our camp at Pungarehu, than the time arrived for Te Whiti, Tohu, and other celebrities to be arrested. We were under arms early, and advanced towards Parihaka in extended order. Altho’ we had not previously seen anything of any volunteers other than ourselves, we now found that other companies were advance in the same direction on our right and left flanks. The number of men who surrounded Parihaka was about sixteen hundred; a thousand of whom were volunteers, and the remainder Armed Constabulary. About the middle of the morning our company halted on the edge of a patch of light bush, which lay between us and Parihaka. We were ordered to load our rifles, but with an emphatic injunction that no man was to fire without special orders. From where we were posted we could not see what was going on in the village: but thro’ out the morning we could hear a great deal of noise. Te Whiti and his friends were arrested by picked members of the Armed Constabulary, who – armed with hatchets and revolvers – forced their way thro’ the mob of excited Maoris; and entering the whare in which the eminent culprits were seated, arrested them, and brought them out: their friends made a great deal of noise, but did not interfere. The prisoners were handed over to the Taranaki Mounted Rifles; by whom they were escorted to New Plymouth; where they were safely lodged in prison. Hiroki was subsequently tried for murder; found guilty; and duly hanged.

21. [untitled]
The Taranaki Rifle Volunteer company who served at Parihaka consisted of the following officers and men: - Captain Ellis; Lieutenant Hoskin; Sub-Lieut. Brooking; Col. Sergeant Cock; Sergts. Reilly [sic], King, Okey; Corporals Hooker, S. Howell, Payne; Bugler O’Donnell; Privates Andrews, Allen, Austin, Beal, Birch, Bishop, De May, J. Divine, A. Divine, H.J. T. Edmonds, Evans, Furze, Gilbert, Harrison, Heal, E. Howell, Hudson, Langley, Lawn Ludlow, Lye, McGahey, McManus, Newell, J. Okey, Pellew, Richmond, Rogers, Rumney [sic], Seamark, W.G. Shaw, R.C. Shaw, S.W. Shaw, Siffleet, Sole, Stanger, W.H. Trimble, Vail, Warhust, Wells, and Wildman. This list was very kindly supplied to me in 1925, by the Adjutant General, Wellington. Several years previously I had taken a list from the Taranaki Herald. In that list the following privates were given whose names do not appear in the official list: - King, McCullum, [Putt?], and Tooke. My impression of the enrolment system of those days is that it was lacking in method.

22. Camping at Parihaka
The Maori leaders being arrested and Parihaka being occupied by the A.C. Force, we were ordered away from our position, and marched to a spot closer to the village, where our new camping-ground was pointed out to us. We found that the authorities had forwarded our swags, tents, etc., from Pungarehu; and that all we had to do was to mark a new camp, and settle down into it as comfortably as possible. There was some bush close at hand; consequently we found tent-poles, pegs, firewood, etc., much easier to procure, and of better quality, than at Pungarehu. Therefore we pitched our tent very substantially; and as we were camped on a sloping piece of ground, we made a ditch round the upper side of our tent, to keep our bedding dry in case of wet weather. Some of the other people neglected this precaution in respect of their tents; getting very wet in consequence. By the time we had settled down to [volume break] life under canvas, the camp was alive with numerous alarmist rumours. One was that the non-resistance of the Maoris was mere cunning; that there were great quantities of guns and powders concealed in Parihaka, which was to be used in a great surprise attack some night, when we volunteers were to be swept out of existence. The A.C. men visited every whare in the village; and confiscated all the arms – a few muzzle-loading muskets and fowling-pieces – they could find. Then we were told that immense stores of cartridges and rifles were concealed in the bush, near the foot of Mount Egmont; these were to be produced on some date to be fixed by the chief [Tito Kowaru?], with disastrous results to us. And when the ramifications of this story had exhausted themselves, a rumour was circulated that Major Kemp (Te Rangihiwinui), the great Wanganui chief, had already destroyed Hawera, massacreed its inhabitants, and might be upon us at any hour of the night, to avenge the capture of Te Whiti and Tohu by butchering the whole of us, and indulging in a huge cannibal orgie. I have often wondered where such stories originated; many of the men appeared to believe them implicitly. I recollect one very serious alarmist regarding me with the intensest horror, on hearing me indulge in a jocular speculation as to the sensations of a man’s immortal ego, while watching his “garment of flesh” being swallowed by a cannibal. While we were encamped at Parihaka our duties were not very onerous. The Maoris kept quiet; and submitted to requirements of the authorities without any resistance. After they had
been deprived of such arms as they possessed, the strangers – that is, the natives who had come to Parihaka from a distance – were sent away to their respective settlements: and altho’ a few returned, they were promptly sent back, and did not give any further trouble. The military duties connected with this part of the operations were performed by the A.C. force, and the Taranaki Mounted Rifles. All that we volunteer infantry were expected to do was to mount guard over our respective camps; and submit ourselves to company drill every morning, and battalion drill every afternoon. The latter was particularly interesting, as very few of us had had opportunities of witnessing, or taking part in such work. I have quite forgotten how many companies used to assemble in the afternoons for this training: a good many of the men grumbled about so much drilling; saying that they had come there to fight the Maoris, not to waste their time in hard work. For my part, being at that time interested in militarism, I enjoyed all these afternoon drills immensely. Our camp, unlike all the others, had no guard tent. The tent-orderlies for the day constituted the guard for twenty-four hours. These men, being exempted from parades, relieved the sentries at stated intervals. At night the guard went to bed as usual, with the other men; and the sentry had to tell, by his own watch, when it was time for him to be relieved. As to calling out the guard in a hurry, I have no idea how that could have been done. At night the duty of the sentry was to challenge passers by; and if anything of a suspicious nature appeared to be occurring, he was to rouse the sergeant of the guard, who would act as the circumstances of the case might warrant: but the sentry was not, unless specially instructed, to discharge his rifle. The only night I can remember mounting guard was a very wet one: the rain poured in torrents, in the Taranaki style, all night. My instructions were to watch certain whares on the side of a hill just above our camp; from which the glimmer of lights and the murmur of voices used to proceed all thro’ the night. Just about midnight, I heard a challenge at the next camp to ours – (the contingent from Nelson I think) – “Who goes there?” repeated, most emphatically, three times: next, I heard the guard called out: after which there appeared to be a good deal of tramping about, and talking: and presently all was quiet again. On being relieved, I repeated this occurrence to the sergeant: but the rest of the night passed without further disturbance. Next morning, on making inquiries about this alarm, I learned that the vigils of the sentinel had been disturbed by a pig – awakened by the heavy rain from its first sweet sleep of night – rooting about in the bush.

23. Music
I must not close this rambling statement without alluding to some music we used to hear in camp. At Pungarehu we heard the band of the A.C. Force: but I do not remember hearing a band at Parihaka, tho’ I seem to recollect that the Thames Volunteers had their band instruments with them. At Parihaka there were two men (both from the Thames I think) who had brought clarionets: and the solos and duets that these men used to play, about sunset, sitting on a slope of one of the hills, were beautiful. It is scarcely possibly to exaggerate the expressions which can be brought out of the clarionet by a musician who understands the scope of the instrument, and who possesses a due appreciation of the beauty and mystery of sound. And I can truly say that I have never heard any instrumental music which gave me more unalloyed enjoyment than the playing of those two men. No doubt the hour of the day,
and the calmness of the atmosphere, combined with the beauty of the lush scenery, and Mount Egmont looking down from the background, all contributed to my enjoyment of the music. But to those two musicians, whoever they were, I tender my respectful thanks for a treat which I can never forget; a treat which is as fresh in my mind as tho’ I had heard it only yesterday; and altho’ the gossip recorded in these pages is of the happenings of many years ago. Some of our men were so pleased with these performances that they spoke of sending to New Plymouth for music and instruments, and organising an orchestra in the camp. But before this could be arranged, orders came that our company was to return to town.

24. Marching Home
We decided to leave the camp at seven o’clock on a Sunday morning; and to march the whole of the distance to New Plymouth in one day. I do not recollect many incidents of the return march. At a deep creek spanned by a telegraph pole, some of the men got to skylarking, and two of them fell into the water; receiving a ducking which completely sobered them for the rest of the day. We had some light refreshments at Okato; and we dined at Oakura. The people of New Plymouth had managed to give us a public welcome; so we took our time; making occasional long halts; so that on reaching our destination none of us should be unduly tired. After dinner we marched particularly easily; making a long stay at Omata, where I was hurried off to the house of the State school-teacher, the late Mr G.W. Potts, who gave a very good tea to quite a crowd of us. At the toll-gate at Barrett Road (the old “Whalers’ gate”) we made another long halt: and here we encountered a few people who had walked out of town to meet us. As we drew nearer to the town, we met more and more people; until, as we marched into Devon Street, we were surrounded by quite a large crowd. Our arrival in New Plymouth had been so timed that we encountered the people coming out of the churches. A brass band, which had been engaged for the occasion, played us into the town; where, on halting outside the Criterion Hotel, we were welcomed by a large crowd of people, who cheered with great enthusiasm.

25. Farewell
Then came the final words of command – “Right – turn! – dismiss!” upon which our little contingent melted away. And our short, bloodless, but not uninstructive campaign was over.

26. Postscript
The most important result of the Parihaka incident was the destruction of Te Whiti’s influence over the Maoris. When he was arrested, his admirers expected a miracle; but when he quietly submitted to arrest, and nothing happened, the Maoris were deeply disappointed. The imprisonment of Te Whiti and Tohu, which included a tour round the large cities of New Zealand and Australia, showed them that they had nothing to gain by not living on friendly terms with the white people; and when released from captivity they never recovered their former importance. I think they subsequently quarrelled, and preached to rival congregations. Meanwhile the Maoris received crown grants for their cultivations; also for large reserves, which they were soon able to lease for substantial rents. And in a very few years from the date of our little campaign the Native difficulty on that coast had been settled for all time; and
the old grievances were forgotten. The original name given to this writing was The Parihaka Campaign; but on reflection I decided to change it. This not, in any sense, a history of the expedition; it is a mere recollection of what I experienced and observed. Perhaps some of my recollections are rather hazy, and not quite accurate: but I am writing many years after the events; and many miles away from Taranaki; and I have no opportunity of comparing memories with any of my old comrades; many of whom, I must add, are now dead. So I make these notes “E. and O.E.” The expedition has been named the “Parihaka Campaign,” “Parihaka Expedition,” Parihaka Invasion,” “Parihaka Rebellion,” and perhaps other names which I have forgotten. Also, I have seen it celebrated in verse (I dare not say poetry) as “The Battle of Parihaka.” When we left New Plymouth for the front, we were told that we were probably going out to a sanguinary conflict. But after all, it turned out to be nothing more serious than a very enjoyable camping-out trip: in fact something of a Mad Tea Party: that is why I have given this writing the name of “The Parihaka Picnic.”

The End