CAPTAIN FREDERICK AUGUSTUS SMITH.

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bounding with exultation as he saw the daring spirit of the young captain, the latter then suddenly fell headlong to the earth in his career, and a roar went up from his men in his rear that he was killed. Killed? Not a bit of it, for in a moment he was up again, though a bullet had gone through him, was again waving his sword, and shouting to his men to follow. In another instant he had sprung on the parapet, which seemed literally to be the centre of a volcano of fire; for a second there he remained, like some hero of old warring with the powers of Erebus, and then down he jumped into the rifle-pits, filled though they were with furious savages, armed to the very teeth with spear, tomahawk, sabre, and axe, not to speak at all of their guns.

"In his desperate leap down Captain Smith had slashed about him right and left, and with deadly effect, as four Maories might have told could they speak; while with his revolverand he had staggered up straight and firm on his legs again—he disposed effectually of his nearest and most furious assailants. A blow of a tomahawk from one side levelled him again to the earth, but it was only for a moment, and then he found himself in a better position than before, for as he scrambled up once more he got his back against the highest pile of the yellow earth, and thus he had his foes below him.

"But the revolver was now empty-empty, with a fearsome reckoning of lives to be scored to its credit. A single blow from an axe, wielded by a huge savage, had smashed the daring officer's left hand into a pulp; his sword had been wrenched or knocked from him by two others who had crept round, while another of the Maories far down in the pit below, where he was lying huddled up under the last cut of the Englishman's sword, had strength left to pull the trigger of his piece, the bullet of which crashed through Captain Smith's thigh, while so close was the shot that the very flesh was burned all round the bullet-hole. The gallant fellow rolled helpless into the pit; he was seized by the throat by the fellows already crowding it with their wounded carcases, when, with a weird shriek of revengeful horror, the 43rd leapt over the parapet, and in three minutes their portion of the work was done, every native there falling under their remorseless bayonets or the swords and revolvers of their officers, for all were maddened to see the gallant captain dead, as they thought, in an absolute jumble of Maories slaughtered or dying under the effects of his great prowess and slashing bravery.

"There is little more to tell. In the centre and on the other flank the Waikato Militia and the 68th captured their share of the rifle-pits almost at the same time, and in a very brief period from that event the natives were in full flight along the gulleys and swamps around their Pah, where hundreds of them fell under the English bullets, and, when once the marshes were cleared, under the sabres of the Defence Force, who pursued the fugitives for six miles inland.

"The fight was over, all the Maori principal leaders in that part were either killed or taken, the Pah was blown up; and in reporting the brilliant affair Colonel Greer felt himself compelled to recommend Captain Smith for the decoration of the V.C., and at the present time of writing that daring officer still wears it on his uniform as Lieutenant-Colonel of the 43rd, that fine corps which he did so much to honour on that desperate day of the fight at Te Ranga."*

Several other crosses were awarded for gallant deeds done in this unfortunate war, and nobly they were earned.

* "Brave Men in Action." Stephen J. Mackenna. 1878.

In November, 1863, the Maories had taken up a strong position at the Pah of Rangiriri, and Sir Duncan Cameron, at the head of about 1,000 men, determined to attack them. A rush was made on the outer works, which were carried, but it was found to their dismay that the

interior works were of most formidable strength; it was of vital importance that there should be no hesitation or failure, as any want of success at that time would have resulted in the neutral tribes joining the rebels, but although the officers gallantly cheered on the men, they fell back, resolved not to stir another step forward. Captain Mercer, R.A., a brave fellow, and much respected as a dashing, God-fearing man, then appealed to his fifty gunners, who immediately

responded, and led by their gallant officer advanced intrepidly, some of them mounting the parapet of the Pah. Captain Mercer had not proceeded far when a bullet struck him in the jaw, carrying away the whole of the lower part of the face. His men were falling at the same time, and retreat was the only course open to the survivors. When William Temple, an assistant surgeon of the Royal Artillery, heard that his friend Captain Mercer had fallen, and was in need of help, he came forward speedily and saw him rolling on the ground in agony. But how was he to reach him? It could only be by passing between the double fire of the enemy. One or two of the men had already attempted it, and had fallen victims to their humanity. Love and duty are strong incentives, and Temple determined, come what might, that he would make the attempt. Mercer lay close to the Pah, and the Maories were cross-firing in order to hinder the approach of any of the white men. Regardless of this, Temple sprang forward and was for a time buried in a cloud of smoke. Then eager and anxious eyes watched him in his hopeless task, for the fire of the enemy was redoubled, and it seemed impossible he could escape. Still, he bent over the prostrate form of his friend, instinctively he stooped from time to time to avoid the bullets which whizzed over his head, and throughout that afternoon, under the very muzzles of the enemy's muskets, he attended assiduously not only to his friend, but to the many wounded men who were in sore distress and in need of his aid.

Temple was not left entirely alone in his work of mercy. One brave man, the only one who would venture through that heavy cross-fire, was Lieutenant Arthur Frederick Pickard, who went backwards and forwards to carry water to quench the thirst of his comrades in their dying agony. Nobly these two men behaved on that eventful day, and worthily they obtained the cross of honour, "for valour."

An exploit performed by Lieutenant-Colonel McNeill is a fine example of steady persistent courage. Acting as aide-de-camp to Sir Duncan Cameron at Pukerimu, it became necessary that some one should convey a message to the officer commanding at Awamutu, a distance of eighteen miles, and the service fell to the lot of McNeill. Taking with him only two men of the Colonial Defence Force, Privates Vosper and Gibson, he started on his journey, and reached his destination in safety. But on the return journey, having passed a place called Ohapau where a detachment of the 40th was stationed, he saw at no great distance from him a large body of Maories. Without a moment's delay he sent Gibson back with intelligence to Ohapau, while he and Vosper prepared themselves for what might happen next. As they were watching the movements of the enemy, all at once there sprung up close by their side about fifty well-armed natives. To resist would be madness; to fly was their only chance, and putting spurs to their steeds they galloped off. McNeill had not proceeded far when he found that Private Vosper was not following; turning round, he saw that he had been thrown from his horse in mounting, and he lay on the ground in the most critical position, surrounded by the natives. McNeill stopped the runaway horse, and then dashing in among the savages under a withering fire, rescued his comrade from his perilous position, assisted him to mount, and then galloped off at the utmost speed, followed by the enemy, who had been momentarily paralysed by the suddenness of McNeill's audacious descent upon them. Had it not been that their horses flew with them as if understanding the peril of the position, they would assuredly have been captured, so close upon them did the enemy follow.

One of the greatest disasters attending our arms in New Zealand was when we attacked the Gate Pah, a strongly-stockaded work at Tauranga. With a strong force under the command of Sir Duncan Cameron, and a Naval Brigade 200 strong under Commander Hay, of H.M.S. Harrier, shot and shell were poured into the Pah for eight hours, and the reply having been very feeble, it was considered that the deadly engines had done their work effectually. The Pah was stormed, and headed by Commander Hay the ditch was passed, and the men stood at length in the midst of the works. Only a few dead and wounded Maories were to be seen, and concluding therefore that the Pah was theirs, they cast away their arms, intent on plunder. Then the soldiers and sailors from without streamed through the trench, and finding it free from the enemy, scattered themselves over the place.

But the Maories who had been in possession of the Pah had not been overcome as was supposed; they had only withdrawn into caves and holes in the earth with which the whole place was burrowed, and when the British were making themselves at home, not dreaming of danger, suddenly from above, below, and around there belched forth fire and smoke, and every shot having been taken with steady aim brought down its man. Taken by surprise, and at such a manifest disadvantage, our men were seized with a sudden panic, and fled in the wildest confusion. Sir Duncan Cameron no sooner saw the position, than he ordered forward the supports, and these, gallantly led by Captain Hamilton, of H.M.S. Esk, went forward with alacrity. But scarcely had their leader entered the deadly trench when he fell dead, struck in the forehead by a bullet. There was a moment of hesitation; the bullets were flying thick as hail; their commander was dead, and seeing this, with miserable unanimity the supports fell into confusion and fled panic-stricken, despite the most daring and gallant efforts of their officers to arrest them in their flight. There was not a man to lend a friendly helping hand to wounded and dying comrades-all sought their own, carried away by the selfishness of fear. Yet not all. There were two gallant men whose sense of duty and feelings of humanity overcame all thought of fear in that terrible time. One of them was Samuel Mitchell, captain of the foretop of H.M.S. Harrier, who went into the very midst of the hottest danger to rescue Commander Hay, who at the early stage of the attack by the natives had fallen, as it afterwards turned out, mortally wounded. Mitchell saw the brave commander stretched upon the ground and in an agony of suffering; raised him in his arms as though he had been a child, so great is the strength which comes to the brave in the hour of need, and amid a hail of bullets whistling around him bore him in safety from the Pah.

Assistant-Surgeon Manley, of the Royal Artillery, then came to his assistance, dressed the wounds of the dying commander, remaining with him in the midst of overwhelming danger, and administering everything that could alleviate his pain or yield him comfort until death released him. Then, fearing that there might still be within the fort those who would need his services, with amazing temerity he entered the deadly Pah, and it is said he was the last to leave it. Sir William Wiseman, of the Naval Brigade, reporting upon the circumstance, said, "Dr. Manley ministered to the wants of the wounded and dying amid the bullets of the enemy with as much sang froid as if he had been performing an operation in St. George's Hospital."