Captain Cook’s journal was widely read by those who wondered what the great explorer had found ‘down under’ and those whose interests would be served by being first to exploit the resources he’d discovered. These included, of course, the competing European powers, but there were numerous others.

Cook’s journal in 1770 recorded sighting many whales off both the east and west coasts of New Zealand and that attracted the attention of whalers whose prey were becoming scarcer in northern waters. These were hard men, ready to follow Cook into unknown waters and to take on any challenges they might face. Various religions saw opportunities to save native heathens from their pagan beliefs and sent emissaries who sowed their soul-saving seed on fertile ground. Cook had anchored in the Bay of Islands and had seen villages and kumara (sweet potato) gardens. His journals described it thus: ‘The place of the country appears green and pleasant’ … the soil ‘pretty rich and proper for cultivation’.

The new arrivals soon found the Maori village of Kororareka, a mild, safe haven with good access to the migrating whales of both coasts. A waterfall that fell directly into the sea made the site very attractive. It was the easiest place to take on fresh water in the Pacific. The Maori welcomed the trade the whalers brought and the Winchesters and Smith & Wesson rifles they were prepared to exchange for local produce and privileges. Kororareka became the rip-roaringest town in the South Pacific.

The leader of the northern tribes was Hone Heke, who immediately saw the commercial advantages and was quick to impose a sort of customs duty on the new arrivals. He was impressed by the missionaries and quickly became a Christian. Then the British arrived and installed Governor FitzRoy at the top of the hill overlooking Kororareka. When the Union Jack was raised over Kororareka and the British began to impose their own duties and taxes, conflict became inevitable. When FitzRoy decreed that the name of his town be changed to Russell, after Lord John Russell, Whig politician, who had never been closer to the place than Portsmouth, it was the last  straw.

So began the Flagstaff War. When Hone Heke threatened to chop down the mast with it’s hated Union Jack, his missionary confidants warned against it and extracted a promise he wouldn’t do it. Hone’s promise didn’t extend to his followers however and he watched as they felled it. The British raised it again and guarded it day and night. Hone’s men arrived in force and the First Maori War, followed. Heke was joined by Te Ruki Kawiti, a formidable Maori chief, while his enemies were quick to take the opportunity to ingratiate themselves with the British.

When HMS British Sovereign arrived carrying the Queen’s Pets, the 99th Regiment of Foot, ready to back up the embattled matelots of HMS Hazard, the Maori fighters melted away into the countryside. They had been at odds with neighbours for centuries and guerilla tactics weren’t new to them.

Lieutenant–Colonel Henry Despard was a firm believer in the invincibility of British discipline, shot and shell. When he found the Maori were holed up in a redoubt, what they called a Te Ruki Kawiti’s pa, at some place called Ohaeawai, he resolved to lead his red-coated forces up-country and to teach them a lesson. He took a carronade, a short, smoothbore, cast iron cannon, a short-range weapon designed for broadside at short range, and the brass six pounders, considering them quite sufficient. He could have dragged some of British Sovereign’s heavy cannons, but did not.

The redcoats formed up smartly enough but it wasn’t long before their heavy woolen uniforms prove to be quite unsuitable for bush-bashing through Manuka thickets harassed and ambushed by wily Maori patrols.

Te Ruki Kawiti’s pa at Ohaeawai didn’t look at all formidable to Colonel Despard, in fact it seemed to be made of tightly bundled `flax leaves, so he set to raze it, unfortunately his cannon shot simply bounced off. The leaves were there to absorb the impact of his artillery rounds and underneath was a strong wall of stout puriri trunks, many ten inches in diameter and cunningly loopholed. As was common practice by the Maori, the main fortification was surrounded by a subsidiary wall, known as a pekerangi, designed to slow attackers down, so as to give the defence more time to shoot them. A surprising return of artillery fire from within the pa drove Colonel Despard into a rage. The defenders were firing anything they could stuff down the barrels of their weapons, including the carcases of deceased animals. Heke’s skirmishers outside the pa attacked patrols and their weapons proved effective against the British bayonets and outdated muskets.

Finally, frustrated beyond sanity, Despard ordered a mad, fixed-bayonet charge on the walls of the pa. It is not known whether he realised that the enemy’s American small arms were far superior to the ancient brown bess muskets of his own troops both in range and accuracy. Following time honoured tradition, his troops fixed bayonets and marched forward, shoulder to shoulder, making a fine red-coated target that was almost unmissable. The few that made the wall found it far too strong and many of them were shot down as they retreated in ignominy. The Maori enemy emerged and bashed in the heads of the wounded with their short greenstone clubs. The British were forced to retire from the field leaving the Pa at Ohaeawai unbreeched and intact.

St Michael’s Anglican Church stands on the site now.  A framed account of the battle and a plan of the pa, presented by the New Zealand Army on the church’s centenary in 1971 are also on display in the church. Around the grounds, you can still see the rough volcanic stones that formed the bas of the walls of the Kawiti’s pa. Forty-seven British soldiers are interred in the churchyard there.

The memorial carries an inscription in the Maori language and in English. It reads: This is a sacred memorial to the soldiers and sailors of the Queen who fell in battle here at Ohaeawai in the year of Our Lord 1845. This burying place was laid out by the Maoris after the making of peace.”

 My great grandfather, William Lane was a soldier in the 99th Regiment of Foot. He participated in Despard’s mad charge and was wounded in the thigh or groin and carried out on an improvised litter. It doused his enthusiasm for life in the British Army for good. I have celebrated the old boy’s life in my book The Brickmaker.