“The natives in the pa had seen the arrival of succour as well as we had, and repeated cheers and volleys announced their appreciation of the sight. From the forest responsive cheers soon established a sympathetic intercourse between the two separated bodies, and I must confess that as far as I was concerned at least the enthusiasm was all on their side. Some Maori trumpeter in the pa now commenced one of those high-pitched shouts, half song, half scream, that travel distinctly over long distances, particularly from range to range. He was giving the reinforcements some instructions. I never have been able to find out what they were, though we had plenty of interpreters with us. I went to the picket with reinforcements, and extended a line of skirmishers along the brow of the hill in some tea-tree scrub. There was open ground between us and the line of forest in which the reinforcements were, and they had to cross that opening if they wanted to come to us.
“About this time the natives in the pa commenced a war dance. Of course, we could see nothing of it, but we could hear it—the measured chant—the time-keeping yell—the snort and roar—the hiss and scream—the growl and bellowing—all coming from three hundred throats in measured cadence, working up their fury into a state of maniacal, demoniacal frenzy, till the stamping of their feet actually shook the ground. [[64]]
“There was soon an echo in the forest of this pandemoniacal concert. Another chorus of three hundred or four hundred throats made the woods tremble with their wrath of lung and the thundering stamp of feet. Twice it subsided, and skirmishers appeared, firing lustily into us. I must confess there was something impressive in these two savage hordes linking their spirits over this distance into a bond of wrathful aid, lashing one another’s fury into a higher heat by each succeeding yell echoing responsive in each breast. Yet when the result of all this volcanic wrath broke against us, when the simple crack of our carbines sent line after line of their skirmishers back into the bush, then the third war dance to get the steam up anew became a most laughable affair, particularly as its result was equally pusillanimous with the first two. No! that open ground under the muzzles of our carbines was not at all to the liking of the war-dancers. There they remained in the bush firing at us at long range, their bullets coming amongst us with that asthmatic, overtravelled sound denoting exhaustion of strength.
“The sap workers were now covered by a good number of Enfield rifles, which dropped most of their bullets into our snug hollow. I must say that as night came on I reflected upon its probable effects, and I experienced a good deal of uneasiness. I was placed on the one point where the Maoris from the pa, trying to effect a junction with the forces in the bush, would have to pass or break through. I never for a moment believed that they would allow the night to pass without making the attempt, as they had no water in the pa. If the forces in the bush, then, favoured by darkness, crossed the opening and attacked our rear while we faced the Maoris from the pa, the chances were ten to one that the junction would be effected, and that thus our prey would escape us after having done irreparable damage.
“I gave Roberts charge of the picket. It could not be in better hands. That day his behaviour before the pa, and on many previous instances, had borne me out in my preconceived idea of the young man that he was as true as steel. I ranged all my men on one side of the road, lying down close to one another in the fern, with strict orders not to stir from their positions until I gave the word—to let the Maoris run the gauntlet of their fire—and then, when Roberts had barred the narrow pass across the swamp, to charge them, bowie-knife and revolver in hand.
“It was an anxious night—so much so, that I even forgot the [[65]]want of sleep of the night previous, and listened with little need of effort to the firing from the pa on the sap and from the sap on the pa. * * * The Maoris had now fought for more than twelve mortal hours; they had wrought at the spade with marvellous rapidity and pluck; and last, not least, they had hurrah’d and war-danced enough to supply all England with consumption, and all that with no adequate supply of water, as their store of it inside must have been quickly exhausted. I believe that night some daring and devoted slaves managed to creep through our sentries and bring a few calabashes-full into the pa. But what was that for the great number of parched throats? (Also, raw potatoes assuaged their thirst considerably.) Still the roar of their guns did not cease, and allow me to tell you that they had some old-fashioned barrels that roared like the bulls of Bashan and threw balls as big as potatoes. Hour after hour I listened to the firing and to the pinging of bullets whistling over our heads and dropping amongst us the whole life-long night; but the sounds I most listened for were footsteps and that indescribable hum that precedes even the most silent body of men. I went to the picket several times, and returned each time in great haste, fearing the Maoris might break cover during my absence. But I was not the only wakeful officer. I think nearly everyone with any responsibility on him slept little that night, except those borne down by fatigue. The artillery troopers under Rait had hardly ceased their rounds along our whole circle throughout the night, and Rait and I had a long chat about the certainty of the Maoris breaking cover that night. Yet the night passed and nothing happened.
“This is one convincing proof to me that the Maoris after all, with all their cleverness, have not the true military sagacity in them to distinguish when obstinacy of defence turns into stupid self-sacrifice. Had they pushed through us that night we would have suffered at close quarters with their guns quite as much in ten minutes as in the time that the whole siege lasted, and their loss would have been comparatively small, as up to that time I believe not half a dozen of theirs had been hit.
THE SECOND DAY.
“The morning of the first of April brought Jackson and his Rangers. I was glad to see another half-hundred revolvers [[66]]make their appearance and strengthen my rather ticklish position. Some of Jackson’s men, on passing by the sap, had volunteered to work therein. They did excellent service, all having been diggers, and, being strong, daring fellows, they pushed the sap in great style. They were under the direction of George Whitfield, who had got his commission for his behaviour at Mangapiko. At Orakau his services were quite as prominent, and should have been recognised more than they were.