Family History 4.35

Robinson story

Joshua Caleb's account

War comes to Pukekohe East

On 15th July 1853, Father went to Drury and on attempting to return home was stopped by a squad of soldiers., who informed him that as some men had been killed by the Maoris, it would be dangerous to go on, so he must stay in the township. When he told them of us left at home however, they allowed him to pass.

Immediately he arrived with his news we made preparations to leave the house. Having buried the crockery and other utensils and warned the settlers in the immediate vicinity, we left the farm and in company with our neighbours, each burdened with some bundle of supposed necessities, trudged out towards the open, eventually stopping for the night at Mr Runciman's farm.

Jane Morgan

My eldest sister (Aunt Jane) was carrying someone's little child. After a time a neighbour took the child and gave her his gun to carry instead. She was more scared of that locked gun than of the peril from the Maoris, for we were getting used to Maori scares.

Once before we had left home in a hurry, when we fled and camped for the night at Mr Burt's homestead - a single-storey weather-boarded house with real windows and verandahs!- which seemed to us a very fine residence. When morning came, thirty or forty uninvited guests were assembled there, cold and hungry. Mr Burt came and asked, "Shall I put the potatoes on?" We didn't wait after that but readily accepted a Mrs Luke's invitation to go with her and share a meal. Mr Burt was afterwards referred to locally as 'Shall-I-put-the-potatoes-on?' with the emphasis on the 'shall'.

In the little church, the one meeting place of the scattered settlers of the Pukekohe East district, the service was drawing to a close. The small congregation rose to sing the last hymn of the morning service, and then after a short prayer began slowly to saunter out.

As the first boy reached the door he turned back and said, "Look! Soldiers!" These were troublesome times, for the Maoris were unsettled, so the troops in their red tunics came straggling slowly along the bush road in front of the little church on their way to Tuakau. Their intention was to push the natives across the Waikato and to keep them out of mischief there. It was supposed to be a surprise attack, but there was not the least element of surprise in it, for the Maoris being as good scouts as fighters knew of their approach almost as soon as it began.

Before leaving Ramarama the soldiers had been served out a three days ration, which included a three days supply of rum. Now in those days rum was to a soldier what sweets are to a small boy of today, an irresistible temptation, something to be got outside of as soon as possible, and so many of those straggling past our little group of worshippers were the worse for drink. As they passed along the track, those whose bush sections were in that direction made haste to follow them.

To march along with the soldiers is great fun to some people, especially small boys, and I was not fourteen years of age. My brothers and sisters and I followed on for about a mile until we came to our home. This spectacle of a portion of Her Majesty's Army was to us in our lonely lives a great event, so we talked of soldiers all that day. Meanwhile the troops passed on to Tuakau, but instead of surprising the natives, a surprise awaited them, the Maoris knowing what the soldiers purposed, and becoming incensed at such action, had moved quietly away and by taking a Maori track had been travelling parallel to the English troops, but in the opposite direction.