Bones on the Omaha Spit

Notes from Heber Meiklejohn about bones found on the Omaha Spit

Written in March 1936 and passed on by Donna Meiklejohn

In the early days of settlement at Whangateau there was a large heap of human bones on the sand spit something over a mile south from the Harbour entrance just clear of the sand dunes near a few scattered Pohutukawa trees roughly a quarter of a mile from the foot hills of the fern ranges and three chains from the highwater of the Gulf.

Sixty-eight years ago when I first saw these bones there was a scattered heap old with age and worn thin with drifting sand. Possibly a dray load.

Visiting the locality twenty-five years ago all that I found was a piece of a scull the size of florin. A grim reminder of a fearful tragedy that had taken place. Time and again I have heard the old Ngapuhi’s tell with pride and gusto how their ancestors surprised a raiding party of Hauraki’s momentary unarmed and slaughtered three hundred of them without the loss of one of their number.

But the Maori is no more the bones have fretted away and the writer is long past the allotted span and if this feeble attempt is not worth printers ink the story may never be told but is set down here without any addition or flourish.

A raiding party of Hauraki with five canoes left the Coromandel coast timed to reach North Harbour, Kawau Island under cover of darkness well concealed they fished, ate and slept through the day their goal being the peaceful little village Kohuroa (now known as Matheson’s Bay between Leigh and Whangateau Harbour) timed to surround the village at first peep of the day they made easy progress to the cliffs at Ti Point then under the shadow of the high land paddled silently to the Kohuroa a few minutes and the village was surrounded another few minutes and the slaughter was over.

Only three young fellows escaping on the land side and now to make their vengeance complete they ferried the corpses to a rock in the bay and stood them up against its base. An adjournment was then made to the first mentioned locality to celebrate the occasion with a feast. But the irony of fate ordained other wise and they left their bones a gaping monument for the Ngapuhi’s ridicule.

But of all the others one woman with a terrible wound in her breast regained consciousness slipped into the water and with the flood was taken into the Whangateau Harbour where, with some effort she dragged herself ashore.

The three that escaped on the land side ran to a settlement near Goat Island from there swift runners were sent to every pa village and plantation. Relays of fresh runners were called on to warn all and sundry.

A meeting place at Pauru Pauru (near upper wharf Whangateau) had been arranged and every available man was called to arms.

In the evening the lookout man on Pukematekai (Sugarloaf between Big Omaha and Matakana) reported strange fires on the sandspit and it was surmised the enemy would stop there at least ‘til daylight. Swift runners were sent ahead to locate the fires and guide the main body through the sand dunes.

At peep of day the spies reported the enemy was astir and making a move to launch their canoes – only one of five being afloat (the tide here recedes sixty to seventy yards). Leaving their clothes and arms at high water mark they moved out on the beach – all eyes being on the canoes. This was fatal – a few seconds and the Ngapuhi’s were masters of the situation – one canoe only getting away.

Three hundred bodies were piled up where the triumphal feast had taken place. It was the Ngapuhi’s turn to rejoice and many a good laugh over this sortie.