death.  They chose the former, and the schooner set sail for the east coast of New Zealand with about one hundred and sixty fighting men, and a number of women and children.  The outbreak and departure were successfully managed in less than two hours.  When head winds checked the runaways, Te Kooti ordered an old man, his uncle, to be bound and thrown overboard as a sacrifice to the god of winds and storms.  The unhappy human sacrifice struggled for awhile in the sea and then sank.  At once the wind changed, the schooner lay her course, and the mana of Te Kooti grew great.  After sailing for a week, the fugitives had their reward, and were landed at Whare-onga-onga (Abode-of-stinging-nettles), fifteen miles from Poverty Bay.  They kept their word to the crew, whom they allowed to take their vessel and go scot-free.  Then they made for the interior.  Major Biggs, the Poverty Bay magistrate, got together a force of friendly natives and went in pursuit.  The Hau-Haus showed their teeth to such effect that the pursuers would not come to close quarters.  Even less successful was the attempt of a small band of White volunteers.  They placed themselves across Te Kooti’s path; but after a long day’s skirmishing were scattered in retreat, losing their baggage, ammunition, and horses.  Colonel Whitmore, picking them up next day, joined them to his force and dragged them off after him in pursuit of the victors.  It was winter, and the weather and country both of the roughest.  The exhausted volunteers, irritated by Whitmore’s manner, left him half-way.  For himself the little colonel, all wire and leather, knew not fatigue.  But even the best of his men were pretty well worn out when they did at last catch a Tartar in the shape of the enemy’s rearguard.  The latter made a stand under cover, in an angle of the narrow bed of a mountain-torrent floored with boulders and shut in by cliffs.  Our men, asked to charge in single file, hung back, and a party of Native allies sent round to take the Hau Haus in flank made off altogether.  Though Te Kooti was shot through the foot, the pursuit had to be given up.  The net result of the various skirmishes with him had been that we had lost twenty-six killed and wounded, and that he had got away.

Whitmore went away to take command on the west coast.  Thus Te Kooti gained time to send messengers to the tribes, and many joined him.  He spoke of himself as God’s instrument against the Pakeha, preached eloquently, and kept strict discipline amongst his men.  In November, after a three months’ lull, he made his swoop on his hated enemies the settlers in Poverty Bay, and in a night surprise took bloody vengeance for his sojourn at the Chathams.  His followers massacred thirty-three white men, women and children, and thirty-seven natives.  Major Biggs was shot at the door of his house.  Captain Wilson held out in his till it was in flames.  Then he surrendered under promise of life for his family, all of whom, however, were at once bayonetted,