Hauraki Raid The Ngapuhi

HAURAKI RAID THE NGAPUHI

By Woodpecker

Provided by Kerry Moore

In the early days of settlement at Whangateau, there was a large heap of human bones on the sandspit, 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 foothills of the fern ranges and three chains in from high water of the gulf.

When I first saw these bones, sixty eight years ago, 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 skull the size of a florin, a grim reminder of a fearful tragedy that had taken place. Time and again I have heard the old Ngapuhis tell with pride and gusto how their ancestors surprised a raiding party, of Haurakis, momentarily unarmed, and slaughtered three hundred with but 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 the printer’s ink the story may never be told, but it is set down here without any addition or flourish.

A raiding party of Haurakis 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 the first peep of day, they made easy progress to the cliffs at Ti Point; then under the shadow of the high land paddled silently to Kohuroa. In a few minutes 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 otherwise and they left their bones a gaping monument for the Ngapuhis’ ridicule.

But of the others one woman with a terrible wound in her breasts 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 who 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 or 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 arm. In the evening the lookout man on Pukematekoi (Sugarloaf between Big Omaha and Matakana) reported strange fires on the sandspit and it was surmised the enemy would stop there at least till daylight. It was decided to investigate; 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 the 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 Ngapuhis 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 Ngapuhis turn to rejoice, and many a good laugh they had over this sortie.

(A.H.Meiklejohn, Matakana. March 17th, 1936.)