Chapter XLVI.

The Attack.

It was a calm starlight summer night, and our men marched silently along the road, and then struck across the country to where Huru had erected his pah. Colonel Whitmore rode ahead with a couple of native chiefs. The gallant little Colonel had briefly addressed the men on the parade ground, but little necessity was there to ask them to do their duty. Most of the volunteer settlers were enraged at Huru for being the cause of their having to leave their homesteads, and besides they had many a grudge to wipe off against Maori bounce. Very long had they borne with native audacity and impudence—restrained by the Government from obtaining satisfaction. Now had the time arrived when old scores were to be paid off, and if the enemy could then have been met with, it would have been made very short work of. Unfortunately, the enemy never is met with just at the right moment, and the courage of our irregulars gradually cooled down. By daylight on Friday, the whole of the forces were opposite the Hauhau encampment, the friendly natives on the hills, the militia, armed constabulary and volunteers on the flats.

A small river ran at the base of the little hill on which Huru had erected his stockade, which looked gay and pretty in the morning light; for a Maori pah, with its bizarre palisading, is rather attractive to the eye; the posts standing upright like a long line of spears of irregular height, with here and there a rude carving, or a little paint, or a few feathers. The corner posts of Huru's pah had been most grotesquely carved into heads, and, moreover, had long "stove-pipe" hats on. The entrance to the stockade was a very narrow one, and inside the palisade was the ordinary serpentine sort of earthwork, which we have found so difficult to deal with. Should the palisade be captured we would still have the enemy in their earthworks; and as these works communicated with each other and, moreover, commanded each other, our men would have a difficult task to oust the enemy. One side of the pah was flush with a precipice of about sixty feet in height dipping into the river. An extensive impassable swamp lay at the other side, leaving only page 17 two sides for attack. A long fern-covered slope led up to these two sides, off which every bit of cover had been carefully removed. A couple of lines of rifle pits had been constructed in front of the pah along this slope, but the rocket-tubes of our navy-men quickly dislodged the hardy occupants of these little nests, and caused them to return into the pah. As it was estimated that Huru had fully two hundred people with him, and as the women fight just as well as the men, and quite as bravely, our little force had all its work cut out.

Charley and Henry Easthorpe had fallen in and marched together. They did not say much to each other. Both felt that the affair was more serious than they anticipated, and, if the truth must be told, both felt frightened. Charley afterwards said that they confessed this much to each other, at which poor Henry Easthorpe laughed, and told Charley, jokingly, to take a lock of his hair home if anything did happen to him. Whereupon Charley told him not to laugh, as it was too serious a matter, and requested him to keep as close as they could together the whole day.

A flag of truce was sent by Colonel Whitmore with a demand for an unconditional surrender, but it was laughed at by the Hauhaus. Huru was heard to call to his people "not to give in, for his God had promised him the plunder of Edgecombe." The Hauhaus could be plainly seen dancing round their pole, and shouting at the top of their voices. At half-past seven another and a final flag of truce was sent. The answer of the natives was "that they were quite ready for the fight and awaiting the attack." The order was given to cross the river and attack, and the little force advanced.

Here a fact, showing the bad generalship, or intense infatuation of the Hauhaus, became apparent. Not a single shot was fired as our men crossed the river. The water was very cold, and the current strong, and our men had to wade thigh deep, yet not a shot was fired. Had they fired or attacked our raw volunteers then, instead of waiting to be attacked, the advance would have been quickly thrown into confusion. As it was there were a good many white faces among the militia, but still they steadily crossed, and mounted the steep bank of the river on the other side. The blue jackets, however, behaved splendidly and took the water in gallant style, and were up the bank like cats, waiting for the word to advance, and rush the pah.

Colonel Whitmore, however, restrained the courage of his men, and took advantage of the slight shelter of the river-bank until a good landing had been effected, and then ordered the advance. No. 2 Company of country settlers came under fire first. Charley and Henry belonged to No. 1 Company, and soon they heard the whiz of the bullets, fired in enmity, for the first time in their lives. They saw a man or two fall in No. 2 Company, but at the same time heard the cheers of the blue jackets. It was curious to see the look of astonishment that some of the men put on at the commencement of the firing One of the officers nearly cut off his nose with his own sword, so agitated did he become; while another, I am sorry to relate, hid himself in a bed of thistles, and never showed out till all was over. The firing continued for nearly two hours, when the rockets were evidently beginning to tell. Wherever there was danger, there Colonel Whitmore could be seen, encouraging his men, and quietly noting the progress of the attack. Just as he had given orders to charge the pah, a Hauhau ran out with a white flag and surrendered. At this time the volunteers charged like mad, headed by an infuriated captain; but, unfortunately for their glory, they were too late, the blue jackets having captured the place. The dead and wounded were seen in all directions. Some women were wounded, and one child shot in the arm. Huru was shot dead, and Colonel Whitmore had scored a victory.

But where was Charley Easthorpe? Away down the slope, resting upon the ground, with his brother Henry's pale and livid face in his lap, wiping the clammy lips, and gazing into the glassy eyes, sat Charley, with a terrible cold sinking at the heart, and crying to his brother to look up and speak to him.

Henry! Henry! cried he in anguish. But poor Henry only smiled and nestled a little closer to him; closer, then closer, as if seeking a resting-place, and then died; shot near the heart in the middle of the fight. May God have mercy upon him, for a sadder fate ne'er was his.