Even in the hot excitement of the fight, he noticed with dull surprise that the Maoris merely ducked to avoid, or warded off his blows as best they could, without attempting to harm him. Ahead of him he could see Bigham, belaying-pin in hand, smashing a path through the packed brown forms, while, ringing high above the din of conflict, he heard the voice of Te Karearea shrieking to his men to hold their hands. But George had scant time for observation, or for thought over the inexplicable attitude of Te Karearea, whom he had certainly credited with engineering this massacre; for scarcely had he rushed into the thick of the fray, than he was pulled down upon his back and pinned to the deck by sheer weight of numbers. The next thing he saw was his greenstone club in the hands of Te Karearea, who grinned at him, crying: 'Fear nought, Hortoni. I will stop these dogs in their worrying.' With which he bounded into the fight, aiming a blow at one of his own men which would certainly have left the fellow few brains to think with, had he not ducked at the critical moment, with the result that Te Karearea's _mere_, cleaving the air downwards, met with terrific shock the upward sweep of Bigham's belaying-pin. So severe was the jar, that the club, unsecured by its wrist-loop, flew out of Te Karearea's hand over the side, and fell into the water, just as Bigham, last survivor of the miserable crew, leaped through the open gangway into the sea. There was an instant swirl of lithe black bodies below the surface, and with a shrill yell the mate sank beneath the waves and was seen no more. With a loud cry of wrath and despair Te Karearea rushed to the gangway, and at his word a dozen tall fellows sprang upon the rail and made ready to dive after the _mere_. But a number of dark, triangular fins rose slowly to the surface, and the men instantly jumped to the deck, nor could all Te Karearea's prayers and threats avail to induce them to risk entering Reinga through such dreadful portals. Whereupon, the chief sullenly ordered half a dozen of them into a boat with instructions to drag the sea-bottom until the greenstone club should be recovered. First, however, the dead bodies of the sailors, along with the corpse of an old Maori, who had been somehow crushed to death in the fight, were hove overboard, and shortly afterwards guns were fired into the water, the surface flogged with oars, and hideous noises raised to scare away the watchful sharks, which was now less difficult to do. But, though dredgers and divers did their best, the whereabouts of the _mere_ remained undiscovered.