"Indeed, yes. Nearly all the officers were killed or mortally wounded in less than a quarter of an hour. Colonel Booth died next day; the captains of the 43rd were all killed, besides naval and volunteer officers. The natives had determined to retreat by the rear of the pah, but suddenly found themselves met by a detachment of the 43rd. They rushed back, and, mingling with the soldiers, were taken by them for a Maori reinforcement. Some one called out "Retreat!" and the troops, having no officers, were seized with a panic, made a runaway—what you call a rout of it."
Massinger groaned. "Who could have imagined it! Such a regiment as the 43rd! Think what they did in the Peninsular war! Such things will happen from time to time. Why didn't they starve them out?"
"That was what my father and Waka Nene said. They were surrounded. They had no water, and only raw potatoes to eat. In a few days they must have given in. In Heke's war Colonel Despard made just the same mistake. My father and Mr. Waterton were there."
"Tell me about it."
"Well, of course it was long, long ago—in 1845; but I heard my father tell it once, and never forgot it. You heard of the Ohaieawa Pah, and how the troops were repulsed then?"
"Yes; I read some account of it."
"It was like this fight. The pah was strongly defended, and the colonel said he would take it by assault. My father and Mr. Waterton were fighting along with the Ngapuhi under the chief Waka Nene. They came to the colonel, and my father said, 'Colonel Despard, if you are going to try to take the pah by assault before you make a breach—and you have no artillery heavy enough—I consider it amounts to the murder of your men, and it is my duty to tell you so. The chief Waka Nene is of the same opinion.'
"'What does he know of the science of war?' said the colonel, angrily.
"'More than you do—that is, of Maori war,' said my father.
"'How dare you talk to me like that?' said the colonel, now very angry. 'I have a great mind to have you arrested.'