flagstaff hewn
down. During the attack the defenders of the town, however, under
Captain Robertson of the _Hazard_, stood their ground and repulsed a
first attack. Even when Robertson fell, his thigh-bone shattered by
a bullet, Lieutenant Philpotts, taking command, had the women and
children sent safely on board the ships, and all was going well when
the outnumbered garrison were paralysed by the blowing up of their
powder magazine. The townsmen began to escape, and a council of war
decided to abandon the place. This was done. Lovell, a gunner, would
not leave his piece until he had spiked it, and was killed, but not
before doing so. Bishop Selwyn, landing from his mission ship in the
Bay, had been doing the work of ten in carrying off women and children
and succouring the wounded, aided therein by Henry Williams. To
Selwyn, as he toiled begrimed with smoke and sweat, came running a
boy, young Nelson Hector, whose father, a lawyer, was in charge of a
gun in position on one of the hillsides outside the town. The boy had
stolen away unnoticed, and crept through the Maoris to find out for
his father how things stood. The bishop offered to take him on board
with the women, but the youngster scouted the notion of leaving his
father. "God bless you, my boy!" said the big-hearted Selwyn; "I have
nothing to say against it"; and the lad, running off, got back safely.
Out in the Bay the American corvette _St. Louis_ lay at anchor. Her
men were keen to be allowed to "bear a hand" in the defence. Though
this could not be, her captain sent boats through the fire while it
was still hot to bring off the women and children, and gave them
shelter on board. Anglo-Saxon brotherhood counted for something even
in 1845. The scene became extraordinary. The victorious Maoris,
streaming gleefully into the town, began to plunder in the best of
good tempers. Some of the townspeople went about saving such of their
goods as they could without molestation, indeed, with occasional help
from the Maoris, who considered there was enough for all. Presently
a house caught fire, the flames spread, and the glowing blaze, the
volumes of smoke, and the roar of the burning under the red-lit sky,
gave a touch of dignity to the end of wicked old Kororareka.

Loaded with booty, Heke's men went off inland in high spirits. Three
vessels crowded with the ruined Alsatians sailed to Auckland, where
for a while the astonished people expected nightly to be roused
from