by Joanna Orwin
But they were already too far offshore for the balls to cause much damage, and the crowded boat made targeted firing impossible. It was not long before the resigned second-in-command ordered the fusiliers to cease fire. As the boats slowly picked up what little speed they could, André watched over the stern as the cavorting savages at last began to recede in the distance.
Extract from the Te Kape manuscript, 1841
Next morning, when others from the ships came ashore to cut firewood nearby at Opunga, not knowing of the fate of Mariou, they were also taken by surprise by our warriors, as fitting retaliation for their earlier violation in cutting wood from the tapu pohutukawa tree. All but one were killed, and, that one escaped and swam off to the ships. The bodies of those slain were then cut up and shared amongst the people so that all could partake in the revenge for the major violations of tapu inflicted by those strangers.
Then, word was sent by Te Kuri to his allies at Manawa-ora that Mariou and many of his subordinate chiefs had been killed. Accordingly the war party gathered on the heights at Manawa-ora called out that news to the strangers there in the expectation they would take flight on hearing that their principal chief and many of their subordinate chiefs were dead. As was customary practice, they could then be picked off one by one as they fled, without the war party risking casualties of their own. Instead, an orderly retreat was achieved by one of Mariou’s remaining subordinate chiefs, a man of great courage.
Although our warriors were frustrated at not being able to force the expected rout, they followed the well-armed strangers in a threatening manner so they would have no choice but to leave Manawa-ora. To make sure they would not return, and as retaliation for their earlier depredations in that place, all their houses and belongings were set on fire. When the boats fled and their guns inflicted no harm, the warriors at Manawa-ora considered the defeat of those strangers had been completed. As a defeated people, they would surely sail away from Tokerau and leave us in peace.
Chapter 13
13–14 June 1772
Port Marion 35° 15 ′ S
Monsieur Marion’s only fault was to believe that savages had the same integrity and gentleness as himself,’ said Jean, sighing heavily. ‘We’ve lost the most able sailor and navigator I’ve ever known. None of our senior officers comes close to sharing his abilities, not even Monsieur Crozet.’
‘D’accord,’ agreed André. ‘But it wasn’t just Monsieur Marion: we all shared his belief.’
‘To some extent,’ Jean conceded. ‘But the signs were there.’
‘Easy to say in hindsight,’ said André. ‘Even you can’t deny that if we’d been ready to leave a week ago, we’d have sailed away thinking these people the friendliest on earth.’
‘And we all know why we’re still here,’ said Jean, bitterness darkening his voice. ‘There’s only one person to blame for that.’
André’s thoughts returned to the collision months ago in the Southern Ocean. Surely no one could have predicted such dire consequences? Not even the most pessimistic person could have foreseen that the extra time needed to re-mast the Castries would land them in their present predicament.
His cousin burst out, ‘I’ll never understand how our captain could go along with the appointment of someone so incompetent as du Clesmeur. It’s a huge price he’s paid for his foolish aspirations to be accepted by the aristocracy.’
There was nothing André could say in response, and the two ensigns fell silent. They were keeping the evening watch inside the large rectangular entrenchment on Marion Island Jean had fashioned from filled water casks. With Monsieur Crozet’s permission, the young ensign had come ashore to join his cousin late in the afternoon, as soon as the evacuated masting party returned to the ships. The senior officer, now in command of the Mascarin, did not hesitate in giving his consent. ‘You’ll be as safe ashore as on board, Monsieur Tallec. I can’t fault Monsieur Roux’s defences. Your mind will be easier if you’re with your cousin.’
Although the ensign was exhausted and the eventful day seemed endless, he saw no point in trying to rest. Every muscle was quivering with pent-up nervous energy, and he startled at the slightest noise. So before the light faded completely, he took a good look at what Jean had put in place. He paced the length of the entrenchment before rejoining his cousin. Laid end-to-end, the sixty leaguers—each containing one hundred and sixty gallons of water—formed a substantial bulwark around the small guard-post tent. All six blunderbusses were now set up in a small battery on the side where any likely attack would come from, each with men delegated to fire and reload. Jean had also sent a dozen of the best men to guard the forge, about three hundred paces away.
The senior ensign told André how the night before the few able-bodied defenders left on the island had seen off several hundred savages without having to fire a shot. ‘The savages marched up boldly at first, coming pretty close to the guard-post,’ he explained. ‘But as it was bright moonlight, they could see we were waiting for them, with the blunderbusses trained in their direction. They came no closer, but dropped down into the concealment of the fern.’
Although they were no more than a pistol-shot away, Jean resisted the temptation to fire at them. ‘I had in mind Monsieur Marion’s insistence that we shouldn’t harm them, so I decided to wait until they attacked first.’ He shook his head, then said fiercely. ‘If I’d any inkling of what had just happened at Tacoury’s Cove, I’d have made them pay with their lives—we could’ve mown them down, all of them.’
Much to his regret, the savages made no move. After half an hour or so, they stealthily withdrew, one by one, crouching low in the fern until they judged they were at a safe distance. ‘We had no further bother during the night.’
‘If you hadn’t the foresight to mount the blunderbusses, things might’ve been very different,’ André pointed out soberly. ‘They could’ve overrun you with ease.’
‘D’accord,’ Jean agreed dryly. ‘But if they’d been a bit more enterprising, they still could’ve finished us off, then destroyed all the ships’ equipment into the bargain.’
They both fell silent again. It did not bear thinking about. Essential equipment was still on shore—rudders, rigging and all the spare yards. Worse, the savages could have capitalized on their attacks on Monsieur Marion and the wooding party, quite easily destroying each of the isolated French outliers, killing them all then capturing their ships. André assumed that was what the savages had indeed planned, but for whatever reason they had not carried such a diabolical strategy to its logical conclusion. Seeking distraction from such unwelcome thoughts, he urged Jean to go on with his account.
At first light, Jean had seen that the mountains behind the hospital camp were crowded with armed savages making threatening gestures. A mainland chief he recognized eventually approached the camp, on his own and unarmed. The senior ensign went to meet him, in the same way he had during the stand-off at the masting camp a few days previously. ‘I did take the precaution of concealing a brace of pistols in my greatcoat pockets,’ he said. ‘But when he got closer, I saw he was weeping. He kept saying, “Tacoury maté Marion!” It took me a while to understand what he was saying, but foolishly I assumed he was warning me, as I thought Monsieur Marion was safe on board.’ Fury and regret sparked in his eyes. ‘If only I’d known…’
André shook his head. ‘Our mistake was far worse.’ He told him how a savage had come on board to warn them before the fatal fishing trip, how Monsieur Marion had refused to accept his translation. His voice choked. ‘I should’ve been more insistent. I could’ve saved his life.’
It was Jean’s turn to shake his head. ‘He was so fixed in his good opinion of Tacoury, indeed of all the savages, nothing you or anyone else said would’ve swayed him. You mustn’t blame yourself.’ He placed his arm across André’s shoulders. ‘What you’ve just told me reinforces my feeling that Monsieur Marion was the unfortunate victim of his own delusions.’ He paused, then said violently, ‘Who knows w
hat will happen to us now we’re left with that young popinjay in command!’
André said cautiously, ‘By his own account, Monsieur du Clesmeur seems to have done all right so far.’
Jean snorted. ‘We’ve neither heard nor seen anything of him. Of course, with the loss of the Castries’ longboat and his yawl being at the masting camp, he’s been stranded on board his ship today—I assume he’s been running around his quarterdeck like a chicken with its head chopped off.’
‘Not what he told Monsieur Crozet,’ said André, smiling despite himself. ‘He claimed he took charge immediately the survivor from the wooding party was picked up. That he first sent reinforcements to you, then by firing the cannons he succeeded in dispersing the savages surrounding you this morning. Then he sent the boat off to relieve the masting camp, seeing that as a priority.’
‘Monsieur du Clesmeur?’ Jean snorted again. ‘Mort-diable! It was our own first lieutenant who ordered all that—he put Paul Chevillard in charge of the Mascarin’s longboat to bring me reinforcements. Chevillard told me he was to report his actions to Monsieur du Clesmeur and the Castries on his way to the masting camp.’
‘Monsieur du Clesmeur’s not the only one gilding the lily,’ said André. ‘Even Monsieur Crozet couldn’t resist. According to him, we fired several volleys of shot directly into the savages massed on the beach as we left the masting camp. Every shot counted, and we killed dozens. According to him, we could’ve killed the lot had he so wished.’
‘And according to you?’ Jean raised his eyebrows.
‘We were too far offshore to have much impact, as far as I could see,’ said André ruefully. ‘Besides, the longboat was dangerously overloaded. Firing the guns came close to capsizing us—the fusiliers fired only one volley, and a ragged one at that.’ He added thoughtfully, ‘Maybe he exaggerated our success to compensate for his unpopular decision not to go back to Tacoury’s Cove to retrieve our boats.’
‘What other decision could he make?’ Jean was puzzled. ‘You were in no position to risk being attacked and overrun.’
‘D’accord,’ agreed André. ‘But many of our people felt it was the only chance we’d have and he was being over-cautious.’
While they were talking, a bank of cloud had obscured the newly risen moon. Heavy rain now set in. The men off duty crowded into the one small tent for shelter, and Jean issued sheepskin covers to the sentries standing outside the entrenchment so they could keep the locks of their muskets dry. He and André stayed at their post behind the battery, the collars of their greatcoats turned up ineffectually against the driving rain, constantly having to dash the water from their faces so they could see.
‘Prenez garde!’ Jean shouted to the sentries on watch beyond the entrenchment. ‘The savages may well take advantage of the dark and the drumming of the rain to sneak up on us.’
But for some hours they were undisturbed, so during the heaviest downpours the two ensigns eventually gave up their vigil to join the others under the shelter of the tent. Just on eleven o’clock, the savages attacked the forge. Alerted by the responding volley of musket shots, André and Jean hastened to the end of the entrenchment nearest the forge to check with the sentries, then sent another six men to support the defenders. After a few minutes of lively firing from that direction, the sentries reported that savages were approaching the entrenchment.
‘It’s as I thought,’ said Jean. ‘They attacked the forge as a diversion, hoping to draw us all out into the open.’
The men had already taken up their stations at each blunderbuss, and he ordered the sentries to fall back to the bulwark of the entrenchment. As soon as the savages came close enough to hurl their spears, the guns opened fire, each in turn so they were able to keep up a constant barrage of shot at the same time as they were reloading.
André shouted over the noise of the guns and the defiant screams of the savages, ‘Should I signal the Mascarin?’ When Jean nodded, he set off the flare they had agreed with Monsieur Crozet as a warning that they were being attacked. In the bright flash of light, he saw the savages were already beginning to retreat, carrying with them several of their dead and wounded. Even as the light of the flare faded, they were disappearing into the forest near the forge. Soon, the last of them had crept away. Jean ordered the men to cease firing.
Once the din of their own guns died away, they could hear the sound of continued volleys from the forge. At first perturbed that the men there were still being attacked, André soon realized the consistent and steady fire indicated they had firm control. Not long afterwards, that firing stopped, too, and the forge contingent sent a messenger to report that the savages had all retreated. At neither site had the Frenchmen suffered any casualties. Hundreds of savages had come close enough for a few darts and lances to fall within the entrenchment, but they did no harm. The elated men in the entrenchment sent up a victorious cry of ‘Vive le Roi!’, to be echoed by the defenders at the forge.
‘That should show the savages they’re no match for our trained men and superior weapons,’ said Jean with considerable satisfaction. He snapped a few darts over his knee and flung them contemptuously over the bulwark. ‘Paltry wooden toys, pardieu!’
At that moment a breathless group of armed sailors jogged onto the terrace, coming from the ships as reinforcements in response to their signal. At Jean’s suggestion, André sent them back with the boat, taking some pleasure in saying, ‘Tell Monsieur Crozet we’ve got everything under control.’
Although the savages made no further attack that night, the bouts of heavy rain continued. They kept a close watch. André’s thoughts again turned to his earlier realization that the savages had mounted three co-ordinated attacks, first targeting the people on the ships, then the widely separated shore operations. Surely it was only a matter of time before they realized the vastly outnumbered Frenchmen were still vulnerable and pressed their advantage home? He shivered involuntarily, then concentrated on peering out into the sheets of driving rain.
At daybreak, he thought his fears were about to be fulfilled. The two ensigns could see that the number of savages gathering on the surrounding hills had swelled considerably, to at least a thousand. They could make out the dark shapes of several fully-laden canoes approaching from the mainland, bringing even more reinforcements. As soon as it was fully light, savages waving articles of French clothing began shouting down to them that they had killed Monsieur Marion, demonstrating with unholy glee exactly how they had done so. One of them was wielding the expedition leader’s silver-mounted musket. The sight enraged Jean. ‘If they think that will intimidate us, they’ve got a surprise coming,’ he said, gritting his teeth.
André then spotted the mainland chief Te Kuri amongst the latest arrivals. He swallowed hard. What if Te Kape was with him? As he watched, the chief began swaggering down the mountain towards them, with ten of his men. His erstwhile friend was indeed amongst them; he could make out his familiar figure, recognize the way he moved. The savages were all armed with long pikes, bludgeons in their belts as usual.
‘Peste soit du scélérat!’ growled Jean. ‘A plague on the scoundrel—and on all those ruffians with him!’
As they watched, Te Kuri came within earshot. He began shouting Jean’s name and beckoning him. André could see Te Kape clearly now, in position behind his chief’s shoulder. His face impassive, the youth showed no sign of recognizing him.
When Te Kuri called again, Jean said, ‘Two can play this game.’ In mocking tones, he called back, beckoning at the same time. ‘Arémaye, Tacoury! Aré-maye!’
To André’s dismay, in the face of such provocation the chief and his followers promptly strolled within musket shot, calling again to Jean and making lewd gestures. What if his cousin ordered them to fire? He was not at all sure he could shoot at the youth who had saved his life. He waited and watched, the dilemma making his heart beat painfully.
Jean had already organized their six best marksmen. ‘Fort bien! He’s fallen right into my
trap.’ He turned to André and said quietly, ‘You’re to stay here, cousin. I’m aware your feelings might be compromised.’ Out loud, he said to the men, ‘Monsieur Tallec’s to arrange covering fire here.’
Before the somewhat relieved André could protest, his cousin and the marksmen had left the entrenchment. They had not marched twenty purposeful paces when Te Kuri suddenly realized his folly. With his companions, he turned back up the mountain, no longer swaggering insolently but running as fast as he could.
He was too late. Jean ordered his party to fire, to aim only at Te Kuri himself. All seven shots were fired at him before the anxiously watching André saw the chief stumble and fall. His companions picked him up and continued running. In the mêlée he could not see whether Te Kape, always so close to his chief, had also been hit. His heart pounding, he watched as the savages now fled, with Jean and his men chasing after them, stopping only to fire another volley. Although more of them fell, the savages were the faster runners, even burdened with their wounded. Jean’s party could not gain on them. Other savages were now pouring down the mountainside, coming to the assistance of Te Kuri’s companions, so the senior ensign had the sense to turn back.
‘That taught the villains a thing or two,’ he said, his face flushed with success, when they returned to the entrenchment. ‘I don’t know whether we managed to kill Tacoury, but he certainly fell heavily.’
Much to André’s relief, his cousin made no further reference to Te Kape. His head whirling with mixed emotions, the ensign busied himself helping reload the muskets.
They could see the rescue party still milling about on the mountain top leading to the fortified village, their obvious agitation expressed in shouting and wailing. Then, even as they watched, the savages crowded on all the surrounding hills suddenly began to withdraw. The noise died away. Within minutes, they had all disappeared.