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The Old Frontier : Te Awamutu, the story of the Waipa Valley : the missionary, the soldier, the pioneer farmer, early colonization, the war in Waikato, life on the Maori border and later-day settlement

Chapter XI. — Camp Life at Te Awamutu

page 79

Chapter XI.
Camp Life at Te Awamutu.

The close of the Waikato War saw some four thousand Imperial and Colonial troops in quarters at Te Awamutu, which remained a large military cantonment for over a year. Surveyors were busy cutting up blocks of confiscated land in the Waikato-Waipa delta for the military settlers, three regiments of Waikato Militia—one regiment was allotted land at Tauranga—and the two companies of Forest Rangers.

An excellent description of military life in Te Awamutu at this period is contained in a narrative written by an Army chaplain (name not given) which appeared in “Fraser's Magazine,” London, in 1864. The writer narrates the trials and humours of the journey by river and road from Auckland to Te Awamutu in March, and gives an account of the soldiers' town as he saw it.

“During the hot months,” wrote the chaplain, “officers and men were under canvas. ∗ ∗ ∗ Most of these [the tents] have now disappeared, and a small town of whares has sprung up in their place. These whares are extremely comfortable; the coldest wind or the heaviest rain is effectually excluded. The nearest approach we have ever seen to a whare at Home is a Highland bothy, built of turf and heather. One whare affords accommodation for twenty-four men, who have to act as their own architects, carpenters, and builders. A healthy spirit of rivalry is thus produced; each man vies with his neighbour, and surveys the work of his own hand with honest pride. Raupo, a strong, flexible reed, abounding in the neighbouring swamps, has to be cut down and carried into camp on the men's shoulders. They have often to remain for hours up to the waist in water, and are thus liable to frequent attacks of dysentery and fever. ∗ ∗ ∗ When the whare is finished the men are allowed to have a dance on the wooden floor. The solitary flute strikes up ‘Judy O'Callaghan,’ ‘Garryowen,’ or some equally lively air, and a light-footed Irishman dances a pas de seul amid the vociferous applause of his comrades, who, inspired by his example, take the floor and batter the boards with hearty goodwill. A few of the huts are built of wood, which has been supplied by contract. Most of the primæval forests in the district have disappeared, but page 80 clumps of red pine may still occasionally be seen. A party of some two hundred sawyers are employed about six miles from the camp [near Rangiaowhia]; strange, wild-looking men who have lived for years in the bush and hold little intercourse with their fellow-men. Some of the more skilful amongst them can make as much as £15 per week; the poorest workman can make the half of that amount. ∗ ∗ ∗ The furnishings of our hut consist of a camp-bed, a table, two chairs, two wooden stools, two bridles, a riding-whip, a mirror six inches by four, a few paddles, a rifle, a sword, and a lump of bacon suspended from the roof. The mothers and sisters of officers out here are not to suppose that their sons and brothers are equally comfortable; our habits are deemed quite luxurious; our hut is the envy of the whole camp. The rumour has reached us that the Colonial Government, who claim it as their property [the hut was at the mission station], intend to turn us out, but they will find that rather difficult; possession at Te Awamutu is something more than nine points of law; we know our rights and mean to stand by them.”

Describing some of the troops at Te Awamutu, the chaplain wrote: “∗ ∗ ∗ The soldiers of the 65th Regiment are most exemplary in this respect [attendance at religious services]. The regiment has spent eighteen years in the colony; the men have been broken up into detachments and stationed in rural districts, far removed from the temptations of garrison towns. Their appearance is very different from that of the men belonging to other regiments recently arrived. They are grave, serious, thoughtful men, with bronzed faces and flowing beards—living proofs of the healthiness of the climate. They are all in good condition, and occupy one-fourth more space on the parade-ground than any other regiment here. From their long residence in the colony most of them have contrived to save a little money; some who have speculated in land are capitalists possessed of thousands. This wealth does not interfere in any way with the strictness of discipline or the respect due to their officers. On the contrary, they expose their lives as readily as those who have nothing to lose, and from long intercourse are devotedly attached to those under whom they serve. They have never left their officers wounded on the field of battle; it is always a point of honour with them to carry them off, whatever loss may be entailed. Their wealth also sometimes enables them to be generous. It was only recently that a subaltern of long standing was likely page break page break
When Te Awamutu was a Fortified Camp [From photos lent by Colonel Ryder.] The Redoubt at the Bridge Over the Mangahoe Stream With part of the camp of the 40th Regiment at Te Awamutu in the background. The Redoubt Reserve at the junction of Mutu and Mangapiko Streets marks the site of this camp.

When Te Awamutu was a Fortified Camp
[From photos lent by Colonel Ryder.]
The Redoubt at the Bridge Over the Mangahoe Stream
With part of the camp of the 40th Regiment at Te Awamutu in the background. The Redoubt Reserve at the
junction of Mutu and Mangapiko Streets marks the site of this camp.

The British Redoubt and Camp at Te Awamutu (1864–5). The hutments in the foreground approximately occupy the present frontages of Alexandra Street. The foremost hutment is situated at the corner of Alexandra Street and Market Street, with the location of the saleyards in the background

The British Redoubt and Camp at Te Awamutu (1864–5).
The hutments in the foreground approximately occupy the present frontages of Alexandra Street. The foremost
hutment is situated at the corner of Alexandra Street and Market Street, with the location of the saleyards in the background

page 81 to lose his company from not having money to purchase. Judge of his surprise when one of the sergeants waited on him and offered to advance the sum required. ∗ ∗ ∗ The 65th is first on the roster for Home service, but few of the men will ever leave the island. In fact, it is not to be desired that they should, as a better class of colonist could not be found.

“When the natives fled from this district a good many horses, cattle, and pigs were left wandering in the bush. Some months ago it was a frequent amusement among the officers to sally forth in small parties in search of loot. They revived the wild sports of Mexico by hunting down the horses and driving them into camp. We know of one case where an officer brought in twenty horses and sold them at £5 a head, thus netting £100 by the venture. ∗ ∗ ∗ We have several lakes in the neighbourhood. [One of these was the Pekapeka-rau lagoon near Rangiaowhia.] The natives, on leaving, hid their canoes by dragging them into the bush or sinking them. A good many have been found, and some of our men have become skilful paddlers. They venture forth in these frail barques in search of sport. At first the wild fowl were so tame that they seemed to apprehend no danger; they have now become more suspicious. Pig-hunting also was a frequent amusement.”

The Romance of Ariana.

This Army chaplain narrated with dry humour the romantic little story of a wounded half-caste girl, one of the prisoners taken at Orakau on 2nd April, 1864; her name was Ariana Huffs, or Hough:

“We have a few friendly natives in camp (at Te Awamutu) who receive rations; they have evidently much sympathy with their countrymen in bonds, and we respect them for it. There is one of them, a hunch-back postman, who plays a little on the Maori flute, which is much the same as our penny whistle. As soon as evening sets in he takes his stand at the door of his tent and begins playing a sort of dirge. His music is execrable, but we bear with it for the following reasons: One evening we requested him to cease his serenade or to remove elsewhere beyond our hearing. The deformed creature threw himself into an interesting attitude and said, ‘It is not for myself I am playing; it is for Ariana Huffs. Every evening she comes out to listen, and I can speak to her with my flute; she page 82 knows all that it says.' After this sentimental avowal we have learned to tolerate this black Blondel, this dusky Trovatore. Ariana is a remarkably pretty half-caste, the offspring of an Englishman and a Maori woman. Her mother died some years ago, and her father, one of those restless, unsettled beings so often to be met with in the colonies, left her to the care of her Maori relatives and started for Australia; nothing has been heard of him since. When the war broke out she was living with a settler near Awamutu; the family was obliged to leave, and she was carried off by the rebels. She says that this was done against her will, and that while the fighting was going on at the pa [Orakau] she was tied to another woman to prevent her from attempting to escape. We suspect, however, that she was tied only by the gentle cords of love, and that a Maori warrior had something to do with her presence there. When the pa was evacuated she was hit by a bullet which shattered her arm; it would have gone hard with her in the indiscriminate slaughter which ensued had not some brave fellow stood over her and defended her life.

“Ten men came forward to claim the honour due to this gallant deed; but this was after the report of her beauty had spread over the camp, and each claimant doubtless imagined that he could establish a lien over her heart.

“Nay; some weeks after the fight an enthusiastic militiaman travelled all the way from Raglan, a distance of thirty miles, and demanded an interview with the Brigadier; he stated that he was the preserver of Ariana's life; he could neither eat nor drink nor sleep for thinking of her; so he had made up his mind to make her his wife. He had £50 in the Savings Bank, which sum he wished to devote to her education, so as to prepare her for the duties of the married state. All that he desired at present was an interview with the object of his affections; Ariana would at once recognise him and rush to his arms. There was only one slight difficulty: he spoke no Maori and she knew no English; but love has a language of its own; he had no doubt that they would understand one another.

“The Brigadier [Carey], amused at the fellow's earnestness, granted the desired interview, and allowed the interpreter to be present to assist if the silent language of love should prove insufficient. The lover entered the room with a bashful, sheepish air, and stared at Ariana, who stared at him in return; but there page 83 was no recognition on her part, no outburst of gushing gratitude, no rushing to his arms. On the contrary, she turned to the interpreter and coolly asked what the man wanted; on learning which she laughed heartily and told him to go away, as she had never seen him before, and would have nothing to say to him. The poor fellow begged, beseeched, implored, and looked unutterable things; Ariana only tittered and turned away her head. Ever since that time the militiaman has continued to urge his suit in letters, written by a half-caste amanuensis, but the Maori maid is still obdurate. He is not the only man who has felt the power of a beauty or claimed to be her preserver; so importunate were some of her admirers that a guard had to be stationed at the hut for her protection. She has now almost recovered from her wound, and an asylum will be provided for her in an orphan institution. We have still some hopes of the militiaman: perseverance often leads to success in love as in everything else.”