The whole force, moved up by a night’s march, camped close to the swamp and quite out of sight of the stronghold, and although in dense bush, not a fire was allowed to be lit during the whole time we were making our preparations for attack, though our scouts kept the island under observation day and night. It was now a case for all hands to off shirt, out tomahawk and work like beavers, constructing out of supple jacks, hurdles, fifteen feet long and four feet wide, in sufficient quantity to cross the quagmire. So well did we work and so well were we handled that in four days every preparation had been made, and at dark on the 24th we began to lay our frail bridge across the bog, this being finished at four A.M., when without a second’s delay the column began to cross. The first lot of us got over dry shod, but then the bridge began to sink, so that the rear of the column had to struggle through slime and water, which took the rear-guard up to their middle. Notwithstanding this drawback we were all safely across, then, leaving Colonel Lyon with a strong party to protect the bridge head, the little Colonel moved on to the kainga, the inhabitants of which were in blissful ignorance of our proximity. With the scouts I crept right into the place and heard one old man lamenting to his wife that he feared the big evil man (Titokowaru) would soon bring the white men down on them. It was now an extraordinary accident was about to happen that again saved Titokowaru and the remnant of his bloodthirsty tribe from our just resentment. The day broke clear, when the natives immediately discovered us. Their astonishment was most ludicrous, as they all thought we had dropped from the sky. Some ran away from us; some ran towards us, shouting out words of welcome; others, too overcome to move, could do nothing else but stand with goggle eyes and with palms stretched out, hoarsely muttering the mystic words “Hau Hau,” none making the slightest attempt to resist us. The long-waited-for execution was just about to commence when the Wanganuis, usually so ready to begin killing, shouted out to us to be careful how we fired as two of their chiefs were mixed up with the now flying crowd. The Colonel, not understanding the Maori tongue, fancied that because the Wanganuis had not fired we had in some miraculous manner fallen across an unknown friendly tribe, so ordered us not to fire. None of us did fire, and because we did not fire the Wanganuis did not do so, so we simply stood and watched long lines of men, women and children wading through the swamp within a few yards of us, and it was only when the hindermost fugitives made very many indecent gestures at us, previous to disappearing into the bush, that the Colonel ascertained that the simple, frightened friendlies he had permitted to escape were Titokowaru and his own personal tribe, the most blood-stained fanatics in the whole of New Zealand.