The following account of the attack on Burtt's Farm is contained in a letter (7th May, 1922) from Mr. John Watson, of Riversdale Road, Avondale, Auckland; he was one of the two boys who escaped from the Maoris and ran for help to Drury. Mr. Watson is the last survivor of the family. After confirming the narrative given in this chapter, he wrote:—

“The Paerata farm, belonging to Mr. James Burtt, consisted of 900 acres. The road going over the Paerata Hill cut the farm in two page 287 sections, the homestead on one side and the bluff on the other. There was a very high rata tree growing on the bluff side of the road, towering above the rest of the trees in the clump of bush there; it could be seen for miles around. My father was on Paerata farm in 1859; the rest of us went out in 1861. At that time there was no one living within three miles except Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Samuel Luke. The latter lived down in the valley behind the Paerata farm; he was very fortunate, for he and his wife left for Drury two or three days before the raid in September, 1863. The Maoris camped in his house the night before they attacked us, or the night after.

“As you correctly state, Hugh McLean and I were ploughing on the bluff when the attack was made. The morning was beautifully fine and calm. About 10 o'clock we heard firing in the direction of Pukekohe East Church Stockade. It was not five minutes later when firing commenced at our house. We at once unharnessed our horses and turned them adrift. Then we made for the house as fast as we could run. Instead of keeping the direct road which led through thick scrub and tea-tree we made a half-circle round the bush and came out in the open in front of the house. It was well we did so, for otherwise we would have been tomahawked, as four or five of the Maoris came from the road we always used except this time. When we were about 400 yards from the house we saw five or six natives come up the rise from where we afterwards were told they attacked my father and brother and the man Knight. McLean opened fire on them. He had a rifle. I had nothing unfortunately; I left mine at home that morning. The firing brought out of the scrub the Maoris who were lying in wait for McLean and me, and we had five more on the other side closing in on us like the letter V. Their fire became too hot for us, and we had to retreat. There was no cover for us to take shelter in. I took the road to Drury, and McLean turned to the right, in an easterly direction. There was a redoubt with troops about two miles from Drury that could be seen from our side; it would be between two and three miles across country, more than two miles nearer than Drury, but it was through fern hills and swamps. Undoubtedly it was for this redoubt McLean was making. I preferred to keep the road to Drury; I was afraid of the swamps after winter rains. As we took different directions one half the Maoris followed McLean, the others followed me and kept up a running fire. I had some narrow escapes, but I got out of their range when I was half-way to Drury. McLean, after getting about half-way to the redoubt on the south road, got stuck in a swamp, where he was evidently shot at close quarters.

“Our retreat drew at least ten of the Maoris from the attack on the house, and enabled my father and Knight to join Mr. Hamilton and Alex. Goulan, who stuck to their posts until a detachment of Mounted Artillery arrived. As soon as I arrived at the camp at Drury and reported they were in their saddles and off, but when they got to the farm the Maoris disappeared.

“When my brother—the one who was with my father and the man Knight—was shot by the Maoris he took cover in a thicket of scrub. He was able to tell us before he died that he heard the natives passing quite near him, but they did not find him. That was how he escaped being tomahawked.”

Regarding his sister's share in the events of that perilous morning, Mr. Watson said:—

“There were two girls in the house, my sisters. When the firing commenced, Mary Ann—she was the one that had the most pluck to do anything—rushed out of the house to let a watch-dog off the chain, but the dog was so furious about the firing she could not undo the strap. page 288 She had to return to the house for a knife to cut the strap. While she was doing so she was fired on, but escaped. The dog then rushed into the bush. He was a savage one to strangers: it took the Maoris some time before they got him killed. In the meantime Mary Ann made off as fast as she could run for Mr. Hamilton's. When about half-way she met Hamilton and his man, who had hurried off when they heard the firing. As to Mr. Hamilton arming my sister with a rifle [as shown in Von Tempsky's sketch], I do not remember hearing about that, nor do I think it was possible for him to do so, because it is not likely he and Goulan would take more arms than they could use. If Von Tempsky sketched her carrying a rifle he could have done it when he was billeted in the house. He with Captain Jackson and Captain Heaphy—afterwards Major Heaphy, v.c.—put up in the house at night for three weeks. The Forest Rangers had no tents. Colonel Nixon and the Flying Column were camped on the road on the top of the hill. It is quite likely that Von Tempsky sketched her for amusement. Everyone connected with the attack is dead but myself—my sisters and all. Before Von Tempsky came to New Zealand he was in the California gold rush, and at night I have heard him telling the other officers of the wonderful adventures he had.”