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Dickey Barrett: with his ancient mariners and much more ancient cannon! At the siege of Moturoa: Being a realistic story of the rough old times in New Zealand, among the turbulent Maoris, and the adventurous whalers, ere settlement took place.

Chapter XIII. The Effect of the News of the Massacre at Ngamotu

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Chapter XIII. The Effect of the News of the Massacre at Ngamotu.

One hundred and seventy, all told, was the number of the Taranaki tribe, which made the escape from Pukerangioro to the neighbourhood of the Sugar Loaves. Indescribable, beyond any effort to depict, was the wailing and the consternation which the terrible news created amongst the people in this present truly unfortunate place. However, there was no time to indulge in unavoidable strokes and in protracted unavailing grief. Time must be taken by the forelock, by those living so close to such a cruel and, meanwhile, highly flushed enemy, for, who could tell the moment when, in full force, this dreaded, truculent foe would, in a manner, be at their very doors? Barrett and Whara, with their followers, began, more arduously than ever, to busy themselves by making what, till now, was deemed—to use an idiom—security doubly secure! An old, time-worn, battered telescope, which Mr. Barrett had lost the run of for many a day, just at this particular time unexpectedly turned up, and was placed in the hands of an expert whaler, of the name of Oliver, to use, as occasion required, on the top of Paratutu, the said Oliver having had long practice in the application of such an instrument. Thereupon, unless in a heavy fog, an unusual thing at this season in this region, or on an extra dark night, the Waikato could certainly be sighted a good number of miles away. Further providing for this special contingency, Whara Pori placed vedettes on each prominence for four miles out in the direction that their enemy must necessarily come, who, thereupon, were instructed to light a fire and retreat hurriedly in at the moment in which they observed the advance of the Waikato in any force. Moreover, Whara Pori went diligently and most vigorously on with the drilling of what force was under him, which now had been recently reinforced by the refugees from Pukerangioro. It was, to be sure, alike surprising and gratifying to take note of the manifest improvement that there was in Pori's army. Why!, who would unwitnessed have ever believed it? The most of them could positively run quite double the distance, ay! and with more ease too, than they could when first Pori took them in hand, and at the same time, also, have plenty of wind to spare! Moreover, they could knock down page 80 a set-up billet of wood as heavy again as they could on their first effort: and such a gratifying state of things was all attributable to the steady practice of racing at all hours and the knee-cap blow! Really, when one reflects on such a quickly acquired proficiency, none know very well what they positively can do until that once they try. Pori himself was in quite an ecstacy of delight when he came to witness the very excellent way—the very proficient way his soldiers went through the various evolutions which he himself had instructed them how to execute. Then, every succeeding feat which they accomplished, more firmer established the chivalrous Pori's confidence in being finally enabled to wap the hated Waikato—ay! invincible as they had considered themselves for these few years back to be! Albeit, really Pori's force, all told, was barely one-fourth as numerous as that of the adversary. “O! it will be,” exclaimed Whara, in his own lingo, “unspeakable satisfaction if Tukaraihu and his [gap — reason: unclear] crew, who have come this far, give us the delightful opportunity of chopping off a few hundreds of their heads, and then, most likely too, there would not be one half of the foolish noise about it either, as there has been for that one only which Rawiri chopped off at Kawhia in the ‘Flyingfish!’ Let wail and whimper who may at what befel us at Pukerangioro, whimpering will avail nothing now; but striving to catch them with their own nets possibly may. ‘It's a bad season when no fish will take the bite.’” was the sanguine warrior's saw, and, radiant with enthusiasm, the intrepid Pori, at this juncture, sprung nimbly off his toes, with his arms pendulously swinging like a skittish young maid learning the accomplishment of the skipping-rope. Are not the varied aspirations of the erect biped, civilised or barbarian, altogether incomprehensible?

At the same time, Richard Barrett and his company of sturdy whalers, were nothing behind their swarthy collaborators for intrepidity in the work which they had set themselves to do. In short, Jack could not have entered into the spirit of the requirements of the position with much more enthusiasm had the stake been for some mighty Empire. Verily, one would have thought on regarding his fervent countenance whilst at harassing toil, that the impression of some such high stake was guiding alone his every action. It was very evident though, that Dickey Barrett, their much-beloved leader, was placed here at a very great disadvantage by reason of most miserably inadequate supplies. The Great Duke, in the old Peninsular war, whom we are told was sadly aggravated with the alike defect, could never have gone on doing without the requisite, by substituting what was required out of such heterogeneous material as did that of Dickey Barrett at Moturoa! There was no shot and shell about—that has already been notified. To take the place of these required missiles, as has been already told, every nail, bolt, and scrap of rusty iron which was in the locality, was called immediately into requisition in order to supply this momentous and pressing want, and these were all heaped together, after collection, in front of the Ngamotu war-pah. But, forsooth! shot and shell were not alone what had page 81 got to be provided to serve as war muniments. After these heaps of old iron had been collected, they had all to be broken into suitable pieces, and put into suitably sized bags, something not at all unlike the bags of boys for holding marbles, made by the seamen in any of their spare hours Then these they were tested in the calibres of the guns, and were classified before being stored. The cartridge bags, for holding the powder, were made out of whatever old textile fabric they could lay their hands upon — such as old shirts, rugs, blankets, women's cast-off round-abouts, and so forth. These were filled as soon as manufactured, and stored for safety in a portable magazine which had, most likely, been in the service for upwards of half a century as an ordinary sea-going chest. Rammers were constructed of straight iron-wood rungs, with tufts of oakum fixed at the opposite end to do the duty of sponges; wadhooks from common corkscrews, indented in rods; and lintstocks were provided by making clefts in stout sticks: the slow-match, which these rude formed lint-stocks supported, was converted from rope saturated in nitre. One can never entertain the most remote conception of the bother these four rusty old cannon gave, through the total absence of any suitable armament. It is all very well, with regular artillerymen to serve their pieces with credit to themselves and others, when all the necessary odds and ends are as good as being shoved into their very hands, but, just let one of these professionals, as they are called, have a trial such as this was at Moturoa, and then, most probably, the said sprightly uniformed blade would give his shoulders a hitch, and declare it sheer insanity ever to expect to do anything with such a confounded lot of heterogeneous trash! No man can tell, neither what he can endure, nor yet what he is capable of performing, until he is driven into a corner which he cannot retire from, so there is no use of one saying that they cannot put up with this, nor they could not do that, until once that they find themselves in a position which that this and that that must be done, and there is no help for them either but to do it! Old England, most unquestionably, owes the most of her greatness to numbers of her progeny who have persistently refused to see difficulties: such is a fact. Remember Nelson's telescope at his sightless eye.

In such arduously bustling war-like operations as has been above, after all, but meagrely described, a little melody, either good or bad, it matters not much, frequently has a very good effect in either driving away the feeling of exhaustion or otherwise imparting a more comfortable sensation of elasticity, or rather, volatileness, to the system, considerably mitigating gloomy forebodings. A few days following the almost blood-curdling tidings from the north, curiously, a most inspiriting sort of carol, less or more adapted to every voice, started as with spontaneity among the whalers whilst at their work, and soon afterwards too the chorus of which was glibly conned by the past-masters in mimicry—the Natives. It, perhaps, was equally popular for a season, as “Jump, Jim Crow,” became in the crowded three Kingdoms a few page 82 years subsequent'y. The composer of the words was accredited to a Pakeha-Maori, of the name of Shipley, living down south, near Wanganui. The composer of the harmony was altogether an unknown quantity. To render enlightenment to the reader as to what merit was actually in this popular refrain, it may not be considered superfluous to produce it on these pages, so as to enable anyone to constitute themselves with better reason, a judge.

Pakeha-Maori's War Song.
Pull all together well.
Yohoh! Yohah! Yoheh!
Pull all together well.
Pull steady one way.
Maoris and Britons,
Bold be as Tritons.
Frail, craven-fear divest
In heat of contest—
Then yours is the day.

Pull all together well.
Yohoh! Yohah! Yoheh!
Pull all together well.
Pull steady one way.
Spot well your quarry;
Slash, cut and parry:
Fight as grim Tartars:
Die as bless'd martyrs—
Ere yield ye in fray!

Pull all together well.
Yohoh! Yohah! Yoheh!
Pull all together well.
Pull steady one way.
Waikato Natives—
Truculent caitiffs—
Pay them out meetly,
Lay them out neatly—
Prostrate on the clay!

Pull all together well.
Yohoh! Yohah! Yoheh!
Pull all together well.
Pull steady one way.
Neighbour with neighbour,
Watch, wait and labour.
To those best prepared,
Aye's victory declar'd—
Go in for the bay!

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Barring the few hours close, either way, upon midnight, wherever the ear was directed to, at this exciting period, around Moturoa, infallibly it would hear trilled out, “Pull all together well.” It got a footing, as it were, into the asylum of refuge where the Maori wahines [women] were, at the Sugar Loaves of Moturoa. It penetrated on to Mikotahi even, among the sick and infirm invalids! Dusky Maori mothers lullabyed their suckling infants with its exhilarating refrain, and Maori fathers animated their muscular progeny with its incitements. In verity, there were neither boat-rowing nor canoe-paddling upon the adjacent billows but took up, with extreme gusto, this all-the-rage of a canticle. These sort of currently popular lays are, one might think, not dissimilar to many individuals in the great human family: their special merits cannot be satisfactorily designated. Still, notwithstanding this obfuscation of definition, they are acknowledged for a time as transcendent luminaries, without ever the question being straight put—why? Possibly they may be foremost gulped through their affinity for floating on the surface, like as to froth off a pewterful of freshly-tapped beer!

On one occasion early in the evening, during these anxious days with the inhabitants around the Sugar Loaves, the last echo of “Pull all together well,” had, for a time, died entirely out. The young moon of a little over four days' growth was westerly declining and threw its reflected rays horizontally on to a strip of narrow channel which lies between the Lion Rock and Moturoa. In a short while this reflected effulgence partially edged off the lapping wavelets on to a threshold-like, small, projecting rock, at the base of this, the largest of the ocean cones, wherewith, by this shifting of the light, were vividly descried the clear outlines of two forms belonging to what has been termed the cerebrum endowed species, standing face to face with each other, the four hands in one anothers' hold: eftsoons the hands are disunited and raised slowly until they fall flat on the opposing shoulders, the upper portions of the figures in juxtaposition decline a little-the faces project, the lips meet,… and lo! in a few seconds more, over the silverytinted expanse a boat is seen stealthily and fleetingly moving shoreward!

A man is moving back and forward, with a pipe stuck in his mouth in front of the whalers' caboose, before lying down for the night. He winces suddenly: then, as suddenly, is composed, as, out of the deep shadow thrown upon the shore-bank a night-stalker comes to his side, saying, “Jack, lend me a hand, a minute, to get this cobble out of the way of the rising tide…. That'll do: thanks.” And then again Jack's left by himself, and thus apostrophises: “He's a brick, he be; and she, for look and gras, sutainly, bae a rar'un!”