shirts, to which she clung with perfect desperation. I perceived
at a glance that the faithful old creature would probably save a
sleeve. A long line of similar articles, my property, which had graced
the _taiepa_ fence the night before, had disappeared.

The old man-of-war's man had placed his back exactly opposite to that
part of the fence where hung a certain striped cotton shirt and
well-scrubbed canvas trowsers, which _could_ belong to no one but
himself. He was "hitting out" lustily right and left. Mr. ---- had been
absent some days on a journey, and the head merchant, as we found after
all was over, was hiding under a bed. When the old sailor saw me, he
"sang out," in a voice clear as a bell, and calculated to be distinctly
heard above the din:--"Hit out, sir, if you please; let's make a fight
of it the best we can; our mob will be here in five minutes; Tahuna has
run to fetch them." While he thus gave both advice and information, he
also set a good example, having delivered just one thump per word, or
thereabouts. The odds were terrible, but the time was short that I was
required to fight; so I at once floored a native who was rushing by me.
He fell like a man shot, and I then perceived he was one of our own
people who had been employed about the place; so, to balance things, I
knocked down another, and then felt myself seized round the waist from
behind, by a fellow who seemed to be about as strong as a horse.

At this moment I cast an anxious glance around the field of battle. The
old Maori woman had, as I expected, saved a good half of my shirt; she
had got on the top of an outhouse, and was waving it in a "Sister Anne"
sort of manner, and calling to an imaginary friendly host which she
pretended to see advancing to the rescue. The old sailor had fallen
under, but not surrendered to, superior force. Three natives had got
him down; but it took all they could do to _keep_ him down: he was
evidently carrying out his original idea of making a fight of it, and
gaining time. The striped shirt and canvas trowsers still hung proudly
on the fence; none of his assailants could spare a second to pull them
down. I was kicking and flinging in the endeavour to extricate myself;
or, at least, to turn round, so as to carry out a "face to face"
policy: which it would be a grand mistake to suppose was not understood
long ago in the good old times.

I had nearly succeeded, and was thinking what particular form of
destruction