Pa.  For months the friendlies had been guarding the passage of the river against a strong Hau-Hau force.  At last, tired of waiting, they challenged the enemy to a fair fight on the island of Moutua.  It was agreed that neither side should attempt to take advantage of the other by surprise or ambuscade.  They landed at opposite ends of the islet.  First came the friendlies, 100 strong; 50 formed their first line under three brave chiefs; 50 stood in reserve under Haimona (Simon) Hiroti; 150 friends watched them from one of the river banks.  Presently the Hau-Haus sprang from their canoes on to the river-girt arena, headed by their warrior-prophet Matene (Martin).  After much preliminary chanting of incantations and shouting of defiance, the Hau-Haus charged.  As they came on, the friendly natives, more than half believing them to be invulnerable, fired so wildly that every shot missed.  Three of the Wanganui leaders fell, and their line wavered and broke.  In vain a fourth chief, Tamihana, shot a Hau-Hau with each barrel of his tupara, speared a third, and cleft the skull of yet another with his tomahawk.  Two bullets brought him down.  It was Haimona Hiroti who saved the day.  Calling on the reserve, he stopped the flying, and, rallying bravely at his appeal, they came on again.  Amid a clash of tomahawks and clubbed rifles, the antagonists fought hand to hand, and fought well.  At length our allies won.  Fifty Hau-Haus died that day, either on the island or while they endeavoured to escape by swimming.  Twenty more were wounded.  The Hau-Hau leader, shot as he swam, managed to reach the further shore.  “There is your fish!” said Haimona, pointing the prophet out to a henchman, who, mere in hand plunged in after him, struck him down as he staggered up the bank, and swam back with his head.  His flag and ninety sovereigns were amongst the prizes of the winners in the hard trial of strength.  The victors carried the bodies of their fallen chiefs back to Wanganui, where the settlers for whom they had died lined the road, standing bareheaded as the brave dead were borne past.

That three such blows as Sentry Hill, Moutua, and Te Rangi had not a more lasting effect was due, amongst other things, to the confiscation policy.

To punish the insurgent tribes, and to defray in part the cost of the war, the New Zealand Government confiscated 2,800,000 acres of native land.  As a punishment it may have been justified; as a financial stroke it was to the end a failure.  Coming as it did in the midst of hostilities, it did not simplify matters.  Among the tribes affected it bred despair, amongst their neighbours apprehension, in England unpleasant suspicions.  At first both the Governor and the Colonial Office endorsed the scheme of confiscation.  Then, when Mr. Cardwell had replaced the Duke of Newcastle, the Colonial Office changed front and condemned it, and their pressure naturally induced the Governor to modify his attitude.