The sailors, under Lieutenant Hill, H.M.S. Curaçoa, had their camp close to the landing-place, to which the Avon, with stores, made daily trips.
The tars, to relieve the monotony of camp life, had got hold of cricketing materials, and on fine afternoons the stumps were set up and play carried on, secundum artem, as unconcernedly as if there was no such thing as a Maori foe within a few hundred yards of them.
"Look at Von Tempsky!" said Slyde (the Rangers being at headquarters in case any specially dangerous scouting was on hand.) "Cool as if he was listening to a military band in Berlin. Trifle better music there, I dare say. Picturesque-looking beggar, isn't he? Cigar in mouth, forage cap always on the side of his head. Curls à ravir. Not our form, but they become him. Wouldn't think he was the man that spoilt an ambush at Mount Egmont, when the general made his point to point march through the bush there."
"Just the man, I should think. But how was it?"
"Rangers, you see, marched with the column. Passing through thickest spot, Von left track with his men and vanished. Troops thought took wrong path. Sharp firing heard. Von reappears front of the column, forcing his way through the supple-jacks, sword in one hand, revolver in the other, knife between his teeth, dripping with blood. Ambush laid for troops—destroyed it."
"No wonder everybody swears by him. I suppose these fellows would have had a steady volley at the column?"
"Regular pot-shot. Sure to kill officers, besides twenty or thirty Tommies. Might even have bagged the general. Great hand at the bowie-knife, Von. Learned that in Mexico. Throws it to an inch. Great weapon at close quarters."
"I dare say," replied Massinger. "I don't seem to take to it myself. All's fair in war, of course."
"Suppose we have a bathe in the Mangopiko? It feels warmer this afternoon."
This motion being carried, our triumvirate proceeded to the river-bank with a party of the 40th, men who bathed there every day.