"True," assented a fourth. "Look at them now. They are carrying litters, as if they were already dead. They ought to be told how unlucky that is."
And Nene's fighting chiefs did actually warn the British officers that they were behaving very foolishly and, being laughed at for their pains, begged the soldiers to throw away the litters, by carrying which they were really asking for death. But the soldiers, too, laughed and marched on, as the Maori fully believed, to their death.
This was too much for the friendlies. "We are not going to take part in a funeral procession," they declared and, with the exception of a score or two of Nene's relations, withdrew to the top of Taumata Kakaramu, a neighbouring hill, to watch the fight.
"If the soldiers win to-day," they declared, "we will always help them. But how can they possibly win?"
The reasons given by the friendlies for their abstention were genuine; but underlying them was another, unconfessed. Like those with Heke, they were Nga-Puhi, and in times of stress the claims of kinship have a way of making themselves heard.
Heke had taken the precaution to cover the roofs within the pa with flax to protect them from the sparks of the rockets, and the first of these presently came roaring and hissing at its mark. All held their breath; for the friendlies, watching from the hill-top, knew as well as those within the pa that the tohunga had promised immunity from this very danger.
Heke came out just at this moment to observe the effect of the missiles. Determined to be on the safe side, he had put up a Christian supplication, and now stood repeating with great unction a Maori prayer.
On came the rocket; but Heke never moved. Many thought that he must be hit; but the missile struck the ground and ricochetted over the fort—greatly, no doubt, to the relief of the venturesome leader, who, when a second shot behaved in like manner, yelled defiance and stalked under cover.
Kawiti had meanwhile laid a clever ambush. When the rockets had been fired, a rush was made on the rear of the pa, and Heke, leaving sufficient to defend the walls, sallied from the front and had nearly succeeded in effecting a junction with Kawiti, when a friendly saw him stealing through the bush and yelled an alarm. In consequence, Kawiti's flank attack was repulsed, his son being among the slain.
The old warrior attempted a second flank attack, but was driven back by the British, who, as they chased the Maori, swore at them after the immemorial fashion of Thomas Atkins. This annoyed the Maori more than any drubbing; for they complained that they had done nothing wrong, and to be treated to such vulgar abuse was an outrage. Such behaviour was indeed utterly opposed to the Maori idea of courtesy, and a deputation once approached the Governor, protesting against the Pakeha's habit of swearing at them, and praying His Excellency to discourage the offensive practice!