Up we came at last, blowing and puffing like grampuses. With a glance I "recognised the situation:"--we had drifted a long way from the landing place. My hat was dashing away before the land breeze towards the sea and had already made a good "offing." Three of the boat's-crew had jumped over-board, had passed us a long distance, and were seemingly bound after the hat; the fourth man was pulling madly with one oar, and consequently making great progress in no very particular direction. The whole tribe of natives had followed our drift along the shore, shouting and gesticulating, and some were launching a large canoe, evidently bent on saving the _hat_, on which all eyes were turned. As for the pakeha, it appears they must have thought it an insult to his understanding to suppose he could be drowned anywhere in sight of land. "'Did he not come from the sea?' Was he not a fish? Was not the sea solid land to him? Did not his fire burn on the ocean? Had he not slept on the crests of the waves?" All this I heard afterwards; but at the time had I not been as much at home in the water as anything not amphibious could be, I should have been very little better than a gone pakeha. Here was a pretty wind up! I was going to "astonish the natives," was I?--with my black hat and my _koti roa_? But the villain is within a yard of me--the rascally cause of all my grief. The furies take possession of me! I dart upon him like a hungry shark! I have him! I have him under! Down, villain! down to the kraken and the whale, to the Taniwha cave!--down! down! down! As we sank I heard one grand roar of wild laughter from the shore--the word _utu_ I heard roared by many voices, but did not then know its import. The pakeha was drowning the Maori for _utu_ for himself, in _case_ he should be drowned. No matter, if the Maori can't hold his own, it's fair play; and then, if the pakeha really does drown the Maori, has he not lots of _taonga_ to be robbed of?--no, not exactly to be robbed of, either; let us not use unnecessarily bad language--we will say to be distrained upon. Crack! What do I hear? Down in the deep I felt a shock, and actually heard a sudden noise. Is it the "crack of doom?" No, it is my frock-coat gone at one split "from clue to earing"--split down the back. Oh if my pistols would go off, a fiery and watery death shouldst thou die, Caliban. Egad! they have gone off--they are both gone to the bottom! My boots are getting heavy! Humane Society, ahoy! where is your boat-hook?--where is your bellows? Humane Society, ahoy! We are now drifting fast by a sandy point, after which there will be no chance of landing--the tide will take us right out to sea. My friend is very hard to drown--must finish him some other time. We both swim for the point, and land; and this is how I got ashore on Maori land. Chapter III.