rty of officers and men, seventeen strong,
had gone on shore and had not been seen since. No anxiety was felt
about them until morning; the French had often spent the night at
one or other of the _pas_. But in the morning a terrible thing had
happened. A long-boat had been sent ashore at 7 a.m. for wood and
water. Two hours later a solitary sailor with two spear-wounds in his
side swam back to his ship. Though badly hurt he was able to tell
his story. The Maoris on the beach had welcomed the boat's crew as
usual--even carrying them pick-a-back through the surf. No sooner were
they ashore and separated than each was surrounded and speared or
tomahawked. Eleven were thus killed and savagely hacked to pieces. The
sole survivor had fought his way into the scrub and escaped unnoticed.

Crozet promptly dismantled his station, burying and burning all that
could not be carried away, and marched his men to the boats. The
natives met them on the way, yelling, dancing, and shouting that their
chief had killed Marion. Arrived at the boats, Crozet says that he
drew a line along the sand and called to a chief that any native who
crossed it would be shot. The chief, he declares, quietly told the
mob, who at once, to the number of a thousand, sat down on the ground
and watched the French embark. No sooner had the boats pushed out than
the natives in an access of fury began to hurl javelins and stones
and rushed after them into the water. Pausing within easy range, the
French opened fire with deadly effect and continued to kill till
Crozet, wearying of the slaughter, told the oarsmen to pull on. He
asks us to believe that the Maoris did not understand the effect of
musketry, and yet stood obstinately to be butchered, crying out and
wondering over the bodies of their fallen.

The French next set to work to bring off their sick shipmates from
their camp. Strange to say they had not been attacked, though the
natives had been prowling round them.

Thereafter a village on an islet close by the ship's anchorage was
stormed with much slaughter of the inhabitants. Fifty were slain and
the bodies buried with one hand sticking out of the ground to show
that the French did not eat enemies. Next the ship's guns were tried
on canoes in the bay. One was cut in two by a round shot and several
of her paddle-men killed.

A day or two later the officers recovered sufficient confidence to
send a party to attack the village where their captain had pres