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Foxton
1910–1913
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1910
How things have changed. Daniel pondered the forms lying on the table in front of him. Once, he’d have been happy to have a medal displayed on his uniform. These days he wasn’t at all sure. If his boys hadn’t seen the notice in the paper, he wouldn’t be looking at these forms now.
“Go on, Pa. You must apply. Last chance, they said,” said William.
“And there’s a few bob in it,” said Fred. “A ten-pound bounty an’ all.”
Daniel frowned in concentration. “Read it again, Chas. I’ve read it so many times I’m confused. Explain to me why I should.”
Charles picked up the well-handled newspaper that had been folded open at the page. Already months old, it had been read numerous times and by many people as they talked it through. He scanned the paper and the various cuttings that had been pinned to it with additional information, looking for the relevant bits. “It says the government has decided to allow further claims for the New Zealand War Medal. After stopping applications in 1900, they have been persuaded by the Veterans’ Association to open them up again for a limited time. You have to prove you were under fire.”
“Well, I was,” said Daniel.
“You have to prove it, Pa. Someone has to say they saw you there, or something. It has to have been before 1870.”
“Which it was. I was finished with it all by then.”
“The Veterans have a petition before government to grant a ten-shilling-a-week pension, without the same rules being applied. But you must have a medal to get it, and you need to be over sixty-five.”
“Well, I’m that – and more.”
“So, now you need the medal,” said Chas.
“Yes, Pa,” said Fred. “It’s time you stopped working so hard and gave yourself a rest. This extra money will let you do that.”
“He’s right,” said Chas. “And you know it. Go on. Fill out the form and let’s be done with it.”
Emma came in the room carrying a basket of washing. “Hello, my boy.” She gave Chas a hug. “How’s that wife of yours and your little one?”
“They’re fine thanks, Ma. The midwife says Nell is doing real well and has lots of milk, and little Nellie is gaining weight.”
“Good to hear it. Tell Nell I’ll come up to see her in a day or two.”
“Thanks, Ma. Must be off now.”
“Give my regards to the Edlins when you see them next.”
After Chas had gone and the other boys went off to do their chores, Daniel painstakingly completed the form answering all the questions and filling in the boxes.
It took him a long time as he contemplated every question, remembering every moment, before he wrote down the barest of detail. His only comment: I now apply at the request of my sons. He signed it Daniel Adin, late 3rd Waikatos, dated at Foxton this Wednesday, October 26, 1910.
While she folded the washing and boiled the kettle, Emma watched Daniel laboriously writing down his history.
When he’d finished he pushed the forms into the middle of the table, got up and sat in the armchair. Laying his head back, he closed his eyes and sighed.
Emma made a pot of tea and poured two cups. Putting one on the table beside his chair, she sat down opposite him.
“You’re doing the right thing, Charlie. The boys are right. We could do with the extra money, but besides that, you deserve it. You did fight for this country, and the boys need to see you acknowledged for it.”
Daniel didn’t move or open his eyes. “I hope to Christ they never have to go to war.”
“So do I. You know my views. Wars are no good to anyone. I’d do anything to prevent any man ever going to war again, if I could. But that’s not the point here.” Emma was insistent.
“What is your point then?”
“I can’t change the past, nor probably the future, but the boys want you to get that medal. They need you to be recognised.”
“Why? I didn’t do anything that was daring. I was just there with all the others at Orakau Pa. Anyone who was under fire can get a medal. I’m not special.”
“I know you think that, but the boys think that was special enough.”
“It scares me, Emma.”
“Me too. But isn’t there a professional army these days? Ordinary people don’t have to fight any more. Not like in your day,” said Emma trying to find something positive to say.
“I was a professional soldier. I joined up when asked. I wasn’t forced to. It was after, when I saw people dying needlessly and fruitlessly, fighting to protect what was theirs, that I doubted my reasons.”
“The boys aren’t soldiers.”
Daniel sat up. “No. They’re not. And hopefully never will be.” He drank his tea while he gathered his thoughts. “Now that Chas is married and with a baby, at least he’ll never be called up.”
“There’s no war on now, why would you even think he might be called up?”
“Because there is always a war on somewhere. There is always someone wanting to fight someone else: for God’s sake, for power, for land, for money. It’s all about greed and race.”
“Shouldn’t we worry about the here and now, rather than what might happen?”
Daniel didn’t respond.
Emma changed the subject. “Speaking of Chas, I must say I like his Nell. She’ll suit him down to the ground.”
“Yeah. She’s all right.”
“Her folks, the Edlins, I like them too.”
“Ted’ll do.” Daniel acknowledged that Nell’s father, Edward Edlin, was a likable sort.
“And naming their firstborn after her mother, another Ellen, and me was nice. Ellen Emma Adin. Nice name. What with her great-grandmother being called Ellen too, our little Nellie is the fourth generation to carry the name. Do you realise she is already ten weeks old? Do you remember what our children were like at that age?”
“No. The babies were your domain. When was she born again?”
“18th of August.”
“I thought it was April.”
Emma tutted and shook her head. “No. That was their wedding. Chas and Nell were married on the 13th of April last year.”
“Oh. Right.” Daniel pulled himself to his feet. “I’m going to the pub.”
* * *
A month later, as arranged, an officer from the Defence Office turned up at the door to take a sworn statement from Daniel. The man asked lots of questions, which Daniel did his best to answer. Names. Dates. Companies. Regiments. Events. Daniel racked his brain to remember. He was sure he could remember every rifle that was fired and every bullet that whipped passed his head, but forty-five or so years later he was having trouble remembering names and dates. The man wrote everything down then read it back to Daniel to be sure he’d got it correctly.
Daniel Sampson Adin sworn saith: I have never had a war medal and have never asked for one before. I received a grant of 50 acres of land in Cambridge, Waikato, for my services with No. 10 Company of the 3rd. Waikatos. I served the time I joined for with them – three years − from 1863. I had joined directly on my arrival in New Zealand. During that time I was three times under fire − twice when on patrol duty. One of those occasions my horse was wounded. The other occasion on which I was under fire was at the taking of Orakau Pah. General Cameron was in command − Captain Blewitt of the 65th Regiment was in charge of our Company. We went with his men. A Bugler of the 65th, Gilligan, and Corporal Armstrong of our Company were killed. No one else wounded that I know of. We were in the rifle pits two nights. The pah was eventually stormed and taken. None of our Officers were with us that I remember. We were handed over to the Imperial Officers on that occasion. The Officers of our Company were Capt. Lloyd, Lieutenant Hamlin and Ensign McCaul. McCaul I know is dead. I don’t know if the others are still alive. A brother of Lieutenant Hamlin’s was Colour Sergeant. I was orderly to Colonel Lyons for about two years after Orakau Pah. I don’t remember what my number was. I have lost all trace of any of my mates and do not know if any of them are alive now. I have been in the Foxton District 30 years. I joined the A. C. Force − No. 6 Division − under Major Roberts soon after Von Tempsky was killed (1868?). I went with them on the Urewera expedition after Te Kooti. Our officers were Major Roberts (afterwards Magistrate), Capt. McDonell. I forget the others. Dr. Walker was with us. We had several engagements. First was an ambuscade at the Whakatane Gorge. Ohekerei, our guide was killed. Adamson was shot thro. the wrist − no others were wounded. Coming back we were also fired at from the hills but no general engagement. I got my discharge after serving my time – 3 years or so, – but have lost it.
D S Adin
Patrick Street, Foxton
29th November 1910
Daniel nodded. “Yes. That’s as best I can remember.”
“Very well, Mr Adin. We’ll try and corroborate your story and get back to you with our decision. It could be many months, so don’t expect to hear anything from us soon. We have to locate the people you mention, write to them and wait to hear back before we can confirm your story.”
“I understand.”
“Very good. Now sign here, please, and I’ll be off.”
Daniel saw the man to the door.
“Officious bastard,” he muttered, as he watched his retreating back.
“How did it go?” asked Emma when he entered the kitchen.
“All right. But those fellas annoy me. They think they know everything. He more or less accused me of lying. Said it had to be corroborated. What happens if he can’t? Wish I’d never done it now.”
“Sit down and have a cup of tea. Stop fretting. It’ll be all right. Someone must remember you.”
Daniel’s worries returned in May of the following year when a letter came saying that the commanding officer of the Armed Constabulary unit that Daniel had named, Colonel Roberts, had died. They would now have to search further for other people who might remember Daniel in the midst of the fighting.
Time marched by. More letters came saying that many of the other people the Defence Force had tried to contact didn’t remember or had died; they said it would seem his story could not be corroborated.
The family got together most weekends for Sunday lunch to catch up with events now that Chas and Nell had their own household.
“Doesn’t look like I’m gonna get it after all, boys,” said Daniel.
“That would be a shame, Pa. Are you sure?” asked Chas.
“They haven’t said no outright, but they can’t find anybody that says they were with me.” Daniel shrugged, dismissing the idea. “What’s happening down at the mill?”
Soon the conversation was all about the price of fibre, the need for more farm workers and the numbers of boats working the river.
“Honestly, Pa. It’s that busy these days down at the wharf you’d hardly credit it,” said Henry. “Sometimes there’s four steamers tied up at the wharf and more in the river waiting. Archie was telling me it’s a real battle for control between Anchor Steam and Levin & Co. They’ve both got five ships. And plans for more they reckon.”
“Not sure Ted Howe did the wisest thing selling his boats to Jupp back in ’04,” said Chas. “I know he made some money out of it, but then Jupp sold the whole fleet to that Wellington fella what owns Levin & Company a year later and made even more money. Now look at them.”
“Couldn’t help feeling a bit sorry for him, though, when the Matara got burnt,” said Fred.
“Who? Ted? I wouldn’t feel too sorry for him,” said Daniel. “He’s a tight-fisted bastard, that one.”
“The Matara was his pride and joy. Did they ever catch the bugger who set it alight?”
“No. Couldn’t pin it on anyone,” answered Chas. “It’s over two years ago now, so it looks like he got off scot-free.”
The women chatted about young Nellie and the latest fashions and swapped recipes. High on their list was Nell being pregnant with her second child and how much they missed Lizzie and Elsie now they were living in Wellington.
1912
The family insisted Daniel celebrate his seventieth birthday whether he liked it or not. The house had been in chaos for days beforehand as the womenfolk cleaned the house, washed all the linen and prepared the food. There were meat pies and fruit pies to make, vegetables to prepare, as well as all sorts of cakes and slabs.
“The sandwiches will have to be made fresh on the day,” said Emma, packing away the latest cake and wiping down the table.
The delicious aroma pervading the house made Daniel’s mouth water at times, but he wasn’t going to let on that he might enjoy it. “Just make sure you have enough ale,” he said to Henry and William. “I don’t want anyone going thirsty in my house.”
“All in hand, Pa. Don’t worry,” answered Henry. “Bill’s going to take the dray into town and bring back a keg.”
On the day, the kitchen table was laden with food. As usual, once people started to arrive Daniel enjoyed himself more than he expected. The men talked about the changes going on in the town. Foxton was booming. The flax trade seemed unstoppable. Warehouses were going up, jetties being built and extended to meet the demands of the bigger ships, railways sidings added – one even ran right into the centre of the shed.
Harry Proctor and Daniel spent some time talking about horse racing and the plans for the new stables at the racecourse. The women talked about the new shops opening up, the variety and quality of goods now available and the new hall.
“Have you been able to persuade Charlie to go to the new movie shows, or anything at the dramatic society?” asked Mary Proctor, as she helped Emma clear away the supper plates.
“Charlie? My Charlie? No. He wouldn’t be seen dead in one of those places. He likes listening to the brass band now and then when it’s playing in the streets, but no, give him his beer and his racing and he’s happy.”
Yes, Daniel was a happy man.
* * *
This day, however, Daniel was feeling cross. His whole household was in an uproar again. It had been like it for months. He knew what was going on, and he left the women to it, but enough was enough. “For goodness’ sake, can’t a man get some peace in his own house?”
“Gosh. What’s wrong with the old man today, Ma?” asked Clara as she rushed through the room followed by her younger sister, the dressmaker and a friend, for yet another fitting of her wedding gown.
“Don’t you mind him none. He’s just feeling his age.”
“Isn’t he excited for me?” Clara was devastated to think that everyone was not as happy as she was about her pending nuptials.
“Clara, be sensible, girl. You’re not the first one to get married, nor will you be the last. It’s been a busy year. First his birthday in April, then Nell had her baby in May, but young Avis hasn’t settled well. I’ve been back and forth a lot to help out. Now here you are getting ready for your big day. I haven’t been around to see to him as often. Your father is a bit out of sorts, that’s all.”
“He does like my Bill, doesn’t he?”
“You know your father. He doesn’t take to any newcomer to the family until they prove they can fit in. Bill Sapsford is as good as any. Don’t fret, girl. Now stand still or we’ll never get this hem sorted.”
A few days later Emma was working at the kitchen sink shortly after lunch. Looking out of the window across the fields in the direction of Foxton, she saw plumes of smoke drifting high into the sky. “Charlie. Come, Charlie. Where are you? Come. Look at this.”
“What’s all the fuss, woman?” Daniel rushed into the room, hurrying to see what she was getting so agitated about. “What’s going on?”
“Looks like a large fire. It’s coming from the town, isn’t it?”
Without a doubt. The moment he saw the billowing dark shapes he knew what it was. “I’ll go see.”
Daniel had long ago given up riding since the boys had given him a bicycle. It had taken him a little while to master the confounded machine but he was happy enough with it these days. Cycling was much easier now that the roads had been improved. An’ far quicker and easier to catch and stable than the horse, he chuckled to himself. As he cycled closer to town he found people rushing from everywhere.
“Don’t get too close!” someone shouted above the clamouring of the fire bell.
“What happened?” Daniel had to raise his voice to be heard.
“No one knows yet, but watch out, it’s getting closer.”
Amid the noise of people shouting, whistles blowing, the crackling of burning wood and the thick smoke that drifted high into the sky, Daniel could see the fire was spreading down the west side of the street faster than the bucket brigade could keep up. People hurried to and fro, desperate to save as much as they could. Furniture and goods were stacked haphazardly in the middle of the street.
Before long, the volunteers gave up their efforts to stop the fires. They stood silent, along with the many bystanders, to watch the buildings burn. There was nothing else to do. Through it all, three or four buildings survived, including Whytes Hotel, but sixteen others had been totally destroyed.
The town was devastated. Even though fires were a fairly common problem, there had been nothing to match the scale of this one. The residents rallied to help clean up. Shopkeepers moved to temporary premises on the eastern side while they sorted out what to do. Rumour was rife as to what had started the fire and where the seat of it had been. Had it been careless use of a gas lamp, or an arson attempt? How could a fire that large start from nothing? But in the end, nothing conclusive was found, and people started picking up the pieces of their lives.
Less than two months later, something woke Daniel around midnight. To begin with he couldn’t work out what had disturbed him. He got up to get a drink of water, and standing at the kitchen sink – where Emma had been standing on that midwinter June day – Daniel saw a bright orange glow in the sky.
“What is it, Charlie? Why are you up?” Emma came to the window, clutching a shawl around her shoulders.
“Look. Another fire. That’s the third this year.”
“It looks big. As big as the June one,” said Emma.
In silence they stood watching for a few moments. Knowing there was nothing they could do, they went back to bed.
With the daylight, Daniel and Emma made their way into town. They were shocked to see that the best part of the eastern side of the street had been burnt out. Somehow a few buildings still stood, thanks to the fickle direction of the wind and one corrugated-iron building.
“Poor Mrs Nye,” said Emma. “That’s the second time for her. Her stationery shop was burnt down last time.”
“Same with Betty’s Bootmakers. See.” Daniel pointed in the direction of where their temporary premises had been. “Without a water system, the poor bucket brigade will never be able to control fires like this. At the council meeting yesterday I was listening to some bigwig from the Palmerston North brigade offer a fire prevention scheme. Let’s hope they do something about it.”
People were devastated by their losses and needed to blame someone. Emergency meetings were called. Vocal assemblies were held at the still-standing town hall. Insurance assessors arrived. At short notice, the council drafted a by-law to ensure that all new buildings in a designated area could only be constructed of brick or reinforced concrete. Strict guidelines as to the thickness of the walls and the space between them, the height and angle of the roofline and anything else the council considered would prevent any further fires spreading, were set down.
Daniel came home from one meeting despondent. “You know, Emma, I wonder about people sometimes. The council put up a scheme for an artesian water supply, but because it’s going to cost the ratepayers in town more money, they turned it down. It’ll be years yet before it’s built. Just as well our house is far enough away.”
Emma considered this news. “This town is unlucky. If it’s not the floods, it’s the fires. I suppose the one is worse than the other. But for me, I hope I don’t have to live through another flood either. Not if I can help it.”
1913
One day Emma came back from town with her basket full of shopping. She heaved it up onto the table, took out the envelope tucked down the side, turned it over to look at it and set it on the table. The letter, which she had collected from the post office, had an English postmark and was addressed to Mr D S (Charles) Adin, which was strange. He been known as Charles for many years, but why someone over there would know that she didn’t understand. They didn’t often receive letters from England. Over all the years she had only known of one person to write to them – Daniel’s sister Elizabeth – and no more than once a year at best. This letter was not from her.
Earlier Daniel had said he would be working on the fences that day. She bellowed out to him from the kitchen door, hoping he would hear.
“Charlie. Letter for you.”
He appeared from the side of the house where he’d been stacking wood.
“All right, you don’t have to shout.”
“Oh! You startled me. I didn’t know you were there. You said you were going to work on the fence.”
“Well, a man can change his mind, can’t he? You’d be grumbling if there wasn’t any wood for the fire.”
“I would yes. But you shouldn’t be doing it. The boys can do it.”
“I’m not in my grave yet. I’ll do it if I want to.”
“Goodness. Let me make you a cup of tea. You sound out of sorts. What’s the matter?”
“Nothing. I don’t know. Didn’t feel too good, that’s all. Don’t take no notice of me.”
Daniel washed his hands under the outside pump and put on his shirt. Coming inside, he sank into the chair at the table and accepted the cup of tea Emma gave him. She’d noticed there were many times these days when he was not his usual cheerful self and she worried.
“So what’s all this about a letter?” Daniel asked.
“Here. See for yourself.” She handed him the envelope, and he ripped it open and unfolded the single page inside. “Well, I’ll be ...” He read it through before handing it to Emma. “Fancy that.”
Emma scanned the letter and then read it again, trying to comprehend the contents. The letter was from the lawyers handling the estate of Daniel’s sister. She had died, single and with no other family, on 30th September 1912.
“Charlie, oh, my dear. I am sorry.”
He shrugged. “It’s all right. It’s been a lifetime since I saw Elizabeth. I barely remember much about her. If it hadn’t been for her occasional letters, I wouldn’t know anything at all.”
Most of her estate was left to acquaintances, companions and a male friend, but she had left her younger brother thirty pounds.
