Yet the sight of that little flag, hoisted below the Maori colours in the _pa_, stung Colonel Despard to madness, or, rather, into issuing a mad order which cost the lives of many brave men. Twenty-six shot had been fired from the big gun which Commander Johnston had brought, and, though an impression had been made upon the palisades, the Maori maintained that much remained to be done before it would be safe to assault the _pa_. Waka Nene threw his influence into the scale against the proposition, but, finding the colonel determined, very generously offered to lead a simultaneous attack upon another face of the _pa_--which was built in parallelogram. Twenty bold spirits among his men asked leave to accompany the soldiers; but the colonel refused all help from his friendlies on the ground that, when they got inside the _pa_, the soldiers might mistake them for hostiles. Thus, the men who had had most experience in assaulting a _pa_, and who were willing for once "to walk in a funeral procession," were forced to remain spectators of an assault which they knew could have but one issue. One made his last charge that fatal afternoon whom the hostile Maori would fain have spared if they could. He was Lieutenant Phillpotts of the _Hazard_, or "Toby," as the Maori affectionately styled him. Here, at Oheawai, he showed his usual cool courage, walking up to the stockade and along it, examining as he went, and all the time under fire of the sharpshooters in the pits. When these recognised the bold intruder, they ceased firing, calling out, "_Kapai_, Toby! Hurrah for Toby! Go back, Toby! We don't want to hurt you." But the lieutenant finished his examination, returned and reported to Colonel Despard that without further breaching assault was impossible. But the colonel was adamant. The assault by escalade was fixed for three in the afternoon of the 1st of July, and one hundred and sixty gallant fellows under Majors Macpherson and Bridge, along with forty eager tars under brave Phillpotts, paraded at eighty yards from the _pa_, and stood staring at death. For a few minutes the silence is intense. Even the Maori in the _pa_ cease firing, unable to believe their eyes as they note the axes and ropes in the hands of the men. Then the hush is broken by a pealing bugle-call--"Advance!" A roaring chorus of cheers bursts from the devoted band--"_Ave, Desparde! Morituri te salutant!_" it should have sounded to the colonel,--and they race to cover those eighty yards and reach what is indeed the "imminent, deadly breach." Where is the brave fellow who a moment ago gave his bluejackets a last cheering word? Where is Phillpotts? There he is--back behind the big gun, thumping in a few more shots at the palisade, if so he may give his men a chance for their lives.