Suddenly the roar of musketry broke out, and the toë-toë was violently agitated as the Maori, still unseen, dodged hither and thither. That one discharge accounted for sixteen men, among them Adjutant-General Johnston, a capable officer; but, thanks to Major Witchell, that was the sum of the disaster.
"Mount!" he shouted, and his men, riding as they knew how to ride, chased the Maori back into the bush, save thirty-six who lay dead among the grass to balance the account of the sixteen. How narrow was the General's own escape is shown by the fact that a Maori was shot hard by his tent, in the centre of the camp. It was not until he had allowed himself to be surprised again next day and lost five more men that General Cameron concluded that the bush was too close, and that the Maori would actually attack two thousand of Her Majesty's troops.
This incident belonged to a later stage of the war. We are still with the troops in Taranaki, in the autumn of 1860, when General Pratt, who had arrived to take command, was about to besiege one of the Maori strongholds in the orthodox manner.
Before this could be done, a truce was negotiated by the Christian Waikato chief, Wiremu Tamihana Te Whaharoa (William Thompson), who represented the King faction. Waikato had sent a contingent to the aid of Taranaki—in the old days it would have been very different—although they had no personal interest in the dispute; but these had been repulsed with loss, and it was then that Tamihana suggested a truce. This was in May, 1861, fourteen months after the Governor's soldiers had marched against Wiremu Kingi.
Major Witchell's charge at Nukumaru
Men were everywhere satisfied that nothing more would come of this year of skirmishing, and few, if any, regarded it as preliminary to a long and dreadful war. Things fell again into their places; three new provinces—Hawke's Bay or Napier, Marlborough and Southland—were added to the rest, the Bank of New Zealand was incorporated, and only those within the innermost circle knew that underneath the seeming calm was deep-rooted unrest.
But so it was. Governor Browne demanded, very much in the imperative mood, the submission of all concerned in the late rising, and a general oath of allegiance to the Crown. The Maori said neither yea nor nay; they simply did nothing. Whereon the Governor, wroth at their contumacy, declared his intention to invade Waikato and bring the insolent rebels to their knees. It is hard to see how one who has never taken an oath of allegiance can be a rebel; but that may pass.
The colonists who heard the Governor's fulmination could not believe their ears, called his attention to the state of unpreparedness throughout the colony, and urged that to invade Waikato would be to invite an alliance of the sympathisers with that powerful tribe against the British. But the Governor had the power, believed that he had the means, and reiterated his determination.