by CL Skelton
Among his other duties, he was administering H.Q. Company, which was in a rather better situation than the other companies. He still had the bulk of his company intact and had managed to ensure that the best of A Company had found their way into its ranks. However, he had lost three colour sergeants; Taku had taken one of them and cholera had accounted for the other two, along with about forty men and three officers. He, too, was worried and had suggested to the colonel that in view of their diminished strength, it might be more effective if he were to take over the direct running of H.Q. Company, rather than risk promoting an unknown quantity before getting home where they could fully assess the situation. Colonel Maclaren had readily agreed to his R.S.M.’s suggestion. The colonel was also left with the problem of finding a new adjutant, the previous one having been a victim of cholera while they were in China. He approached Captain Chisholm and asked if he would care to take on the job. Chisholm, whose background fitted him more for the cavalry or the Guards, had demurred slightly. He had joined the regiment because he wanted to serve with the Maclarens, but it was as a line officer not as a pen-pusher that he wanted to see out his service. Chisholm was a man of great wealth who did only what he wanted to do. Behind him were his estates in Perthshire and the entrée to any house in the land. However, as senior captain it was really right that he should take on the job, and he finally agreed provided that it should be regarded as a temporary expedient until their return home.
Thus the battalion had been reorganized in a make-do manner and everyone hoped that they would not be tested in action until they had returned home for that very necessary breathing space.
They had re-embarked at Wellington after bivouacking ashore for only a matter of days until someone moved the yellow pin again. While they had been there they had listened to many stories of ‘trouble up north’, and for a little while it seemed as if there was a real chance of them having to march up country to deal with this situation. But apparently it was not to be. They had been bundled back into the ship and now, once again, they were out on the open sea, sailing west between New Zealand’s two main islands. Again spirits began to rise as the ship turned northward, and yet again it began to be whispered that they were going home.
The seamen on board, ever anxious to show their superior knowledge once they had the army out of their environment, fed them with stories of destinations as far apart as South America and the Arctic Ocean. This did not worry the 148th unduly. After nearly three months at sea, they were beginning to get used to sailors’ stories. The truth was that no one other than the ship’s master, a retired naval officer who went by the name of Glover, and Colonel Maclaren himself, had any inkling of what was to be their ultimate destination. These two gentlemen, with that unnecessary secrecy so beloved throughout the services, kept their own counsel.
Privates Angus Buchannan and Donald Munroe, the son of the pawnbroker from Inverness who scratched a living out of the pathetic pledges of the poor of that city, and who himself indulged in a loan business throughout the battalion ‒ illegal of course, but quite profitable ‒ were on deck. They were exercising along with half the members of C Company, having spent an uncomfortable night crammed together in hammocks forward on the lower deck, and currently occupied by the other half of their company. They were glad of the chance to breathe fresh air untainted by the smell of their comrades’ sweat. It was their second day out of Wellington.
‘What’s yon?’ demanded Angus, pointing off the starboard bow to where a low grey streak had appeared on the horizon. ‘There’s no land that we should be seeing noo. What do ye say, Donnie?’
‘I think we’re turning,’ replied Donnie. ‘See the wake?’
It was true. The ship was heading for land. It could only be another part of New Zealand.
Belowdecks, speculation flared up once more. Two hours later, the Himalaya dropped anchor just outside the harbour of New Plymouth. Within the hour, a lighter had drawn alongside. It was loaded with coal and the men were ‘stood to’ to top up the ship’s bunkers. Coaling was a filthy business, but every man bent to his task, happy in the thought that this could only mean one thing; they were really going home.
Almost unnoticed, a pinnace, flying the white ensign, came alongside, and a young naval officer clambered aboard the Himalaya. He was taken immediately to the captain’s cabin. A few minutes later, Colonel Maclaren was summoned to the captain. When he arrived, he found the captain and the young naval officer deep in conversation.
Captain Glover looked up as the colonel entered.
‘You wanted to see me, captain?’
‘Thank you for coming, colonel. May I present Lieutenant Arkwright.’
‘Good morning, Mr Arkwright.’
‘Sir,’ replied the lieutenant.
‘Lieutenant Arkwright has brought us a present, a bottle of whisky.’
The colonel smiled at the sight of the bottle of his beloved Glenlivet gracing the captain’s table.
‘Help yourself, colonel,’ said Captain Glover. ‘Arkwright here has a request to make.’
‘Of me?’ said the colonel, raising his eyebrows. ‘What is it you want, Mr Arkwright?’
‘Well, sir,’ said Arkwright, ‘as you command the only British force nearer to us than Wellington, I cannot but feel that your arrival was most fortuitous. You see, we need the army to help us; and we need them now. Immediately.’
‘Is there no naval garrison?’
‘No, sir, only myself and four seamen.’
‘I think you had better explain yourself,’ said Colonel Maclaren. ‘My men have had a pretty rotten time, and though they do not yet know it, they are on their way home.’
Arkwright digested this information for a moment, rubbing his thumb slowly over his lower lip. ‘Do I understand, sir,’ he said, ‘that you don’t want to help us?’
‘I think,’ replied the colonel, ‘that you had better give us all the details. Until I know them, obviously I cannot make a decision.’
‘Well, sir, have you heard of Kingi?’
‘Who is Kingi?’
‘He’s a Maori chief. He’s really a first-class chap, and in many ways one sympathizes with him and with what he is trying to do for his people. But recently, he has been taking the law into his own hands, and of course we cannot allow that to continue. There are, as you probably know, very few troops in New Zealand, British troops, I mean, and we have asked for assistance from Australia. But that, of course, is going to take a long time. The settlers here have been pushing inland, looking for fresh grazing for their sheep. That was all right to start with, and they didn’t have much trouble with the Maoris. But as the operation got bigger, resentment began to grow. Kingi has taken it upon himself to start raiding the sheep stations.’
‘Can’t the settlers look after themselves?’ asked the colonel.
‘Only to a very limited extent,’ replied Arkwright. ‘Of course, the Maoris are not well armed. They have no artillery, and they only have common muskets, fowling pieces, and double-barrelled guns. But now Kingi has built a Pa.’
‘What’s a Pa?’ asked Glover.
‘That, sir,’ said Arkwright, ‘is a fortified village. It’s built behind a heavy wooden palisade. From there, he sends out raiding parties at night to kill a few sheep, or even a settler should one get in their way. They are never seen and always return to the Pa before dawn. It is not possible to deal with the Maoris in the bush; the bush is so large, and the Maoris know the bush so well. A couple of them working together can pin down a force of twenty men and possibly even destroy them. They do what they intend to do and you never see them. Of course, they are gentlemen in their own way. They will never attack a man whom they know to be unarmed. There have even been incidents where they have offered us ammunition to ensure a fair fight.’
‘Is that true?’ asked the colonel, showing his surprise.
‘I know it is,’ said Glover. ‘This is not the first time I have heard of such happenings.’
‘Go on,
Mr Arkwright,’ said Sir Henry.
‘Well, the Maoris are not very numerous, but there might be a hundred or so in a Pa and we have not got the force to deal with that number and destroy their base. That is the reason I am asking for your help.’
The colonel thought long and hard. He saw it as the clearances all over again, and just as he had sympathized with those who had lost their homes in Scotland, he felt a sympathy towards the Maoris who were losing their lands so that the sheep might graze. However, that was not a military consideration and he could not allow sentiment to interfere with his judgment of the situation. Arkwright was well within his rights in asking for his aid, and he would have to produce a damned good reason for withholding it.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said at length. ‘I don’t see that we can be of very much help there at all. You see, we have not got the means to breach any form of fortification. We have no artillery and no sappers.’
‘But we have, sir,’ said Arkwright. ‘We have got one cannon, and myself and my ratings are able to operate it. I was hoping that we might be able to attack the Pa during daylight and subdue Kingi and his men.’
Colonel Maclaren leaned back in his chair as he digested this last piece of information. He did not want a repeat of the affair at Taku which had already so reduced his force. ‘How urgent is this?’ he asked. ‘What I’m getting at is, cannot you wait until such a time as you get reinforcements from Australia, or must the matter be dealt with at once?’
‘Well, sir,’ said Arkwright, ‘we could wait. I have no doubt that our casualties would be light in the time between now and when the Australian force arrived. But it’s the sheep we’re worried about. We haven’t got a lot, and what we have are mostly breeding stock. If Kingi can destroy the majority of these, it will set us back for years. Until we can get fresh stock shipped out from England, or possibly Australia, we would be at a complete standstill. Whether the settlers would be able to survive that is highly improbable.’
‘If we did this,’ said the colonel, ‘how long do you estimate that the operation would take? And have you got a plan?’
‘Kingi’s Pa lies on the north side of the Waitara River, about twenty or twenty-five miles east of us here. The river is fordable at that point, especially at this time of the year. So it would be a day’s march. With reasonable luck, we should have the action completed and be back in New Plymouth within the week.’ He paused. ‘What do you say, sir? Can you help us?’
‘Perhaps,’ replied the colonel. ‘I think I had better have a word with my company commanders and then I should be able to give you a definite answer. One more thing,’ said the colonel as he rose to leave. ‘Do you have mules? Your cannon isn’t going to be of much use to us if we can’t shift it.’
‘I am certain you will have no problem there, sir,’ replied Arkwright. ‘The settlers have mules, and they’ll be more than keen to move the cannon for us.’
Neither Captain Chisholm nor Andrew could find any logical reason to refuse Arkwright’s request, and so it was decided that the regiment would take on this commitment. Andrew suggested that it might be a good idea if the colonel were to put the men into the picture. The reaction from Chisholm to this suggestion was quite spectacular. He went almost purple. The very idea of telling the men why and where and how long they were likely to fight, and for what reason they might even have to die, was unheard of. Colonel Maclaren, however, took a different view. He knew that once they disembarked and started marching inland, the morale of his battalion would take a terrific knock. They had not been told that they were going home, but that peculiar bush telegraph which works throughout all military establishments had told them that they were. He ordered Sergeant Major Mackintosh to fall the men in on deck, and when this had been accomplished, he, Chisholm, and Andrew went out on to the quarterdeck and the colonel addressed the men.
‘Men,’ he said, ‘I have called you together to tell you that we are going home.’ His voice was drowned in a resounding cheer. ‘But ‒’ he cried.
‘There’s always a bloody but,’ said a voice from somewhere down among the throng.
‘No talking in the ranks!’ growled Sergeant Major Mackintosh.
‘But,’ repeated the colonel, ‘we will not be leaving for a week; we have a task. It is not a very difficult task, but it must be performed before we can sail. We are to march to a spot about twenty-five miles from here, and there we will destroy a wooden, fortified village which the Maoris have been using as a base from which to raid the settlers in this area. I doubt we will have any trouble. We shall be dealing with about a hundred men, equipped with ancient muskets and fowling pieces. We will march tomorrow and be back as soon as we can. Captain Glover has promised that he will remain here until we return. The moment we have re-embarked, we will sail for Scotland. I promise you that. Carry on, sergeant major.’
When the officers left the quarterdeck, Sergeant Major Mackintosh turned on the battalion.
‘Now, you horrible lot!’ he roared. ‘Rifle inspection at six o’clock and you’re all to be in full marching order, and ready to disembark, at seven o’clock tomorrow morning. Parade … Parade, dismiss!’
The following day, they covered almost twenty miles, until they were within four miles of their target. The going had been comparatively easy ‒ rolling green moorland with patches of scrub or small copses scattered about it. It was reminiscent of the border country between England and Scotland, and the rich green of the pasture through which they marched gave many of them thoughts of home.
It was as they approached the river which lay to the east and slightly north of New Plymouth that they began to find more in the way of vegetation. Of wildlife they saw nothing. The pastures had been cleared, and it seemed that the inhabitants of the scrub and the woodland which was left had at last realized that man was not the type of being with whom one associated.
They marched on ahead of Lieutenant Arkwright and his cannon and made camp, waiting for him to catch up. The cannon proved to be a muzzle-loading field gun with its limber containing the ammunition. It was drawn by six mules and accompanied by Lieutenant Arkwright and two naval ratings.
Before settling down, the colonel sent out a forward picket of three men under the command of Corporal Campbell to scout the land ahead of the main body. They returned and announced that they had seen the Pa and had found a good site for the cannon near the riverbank. The colonel sent for Arkwright and told him that he was to go on ahead with the picket and get his gun in position before dawn the following morning. He was to camouflage his site, and then, having posted sentries, he could lie up until the battalion arrived.
‘But, sir,’ said Arkwright, ‘we’re pretty well all in. Is it not possible to delay the action for twenty-four hours?’
‘Listen, Mister Arkwright,’ said the colonel, ‘we’re doing you a favour, at least that’s the way I see it. I want to get my men back on to that ship and on their way home just as soon as I possibly can. I am not going to ask them to sit around on their arses for twenty-four hours, when they could have the job over and done with and be on their way back by then. You can have a meal, then you will collect field rations and out you go. And remember, the sooner you get there, the longer rest you’ll have. You had better send the mules back as soon as you get there. You don’t want them hanging around and giving away your position.’
Arkwright was not very pleased at this, but he went. He really had very little alternative, having placed himself under Colonel Maclaren’s orders. So the mules were again hitched up into the limber and Arkwright was on his way.
The troops were given a stand-easy, and rations were issued. Half a loaf of bread, a hunk of cheese, and a piece of cold mutton per man. Water was the only drink they had and they took this from their canteens. The colonel had decided against lighting fires. Even though they were in open country, he did not want to advertise his position, if it had not already been noticed, though it almost certainly would have been.
The men sat around
in groups eating and talking and smoking. In one of these groups, Angus Buchannan was holding forth on the tribulations of army life; he who had insisted on joining the army could now find nothing right with it.
‘I’ll tell ye all one bloody thing,’ he said. ‘I’m going to get meself a woman. I’ve no been near one since we left China.’
‘Aye,’ replied his section corporal, ‘and you can count yourself bloody lucky that you didn’t get the pox there. These native pushers are riddled with it.’
‘Who cares?’ said Angus. ‘We’re going to be weeks on that damned ship and I’m going to get one before we go back on board.’
‘Ye’d be better off wi’ a sheep,’ said the corporal. ‘Or away into a corner and wank yoursel’.’