Extracting from his Maori mercury, every point of information he could furnish, Sir George ordained silence upon him, lest uneasiness might be caused among the people of Auckland.  Then, on the plea of making a rapid tour of the outposts of the Colony, he organised a move on Wanganui.  He went thither by sea, with a contingent of troops and a body-guard of leading Maori chiefs.

‘These,’ Sir George smiled, ’had been vowing all sorts of handsome things to me, and I took them at their word.  I said to them that no better opportunity could arise, enabling them to fulfil their promises.  They would be beside me, ready to send orders to their several tribes, should the assistance of these be needed.  I need hardly add, that nothing untoward could happen in the localities which the chiefs denoted, while they were absent with me.  Generally, I went about with a group of them in my train, as I preferred to have the possibilities of trouble with me.  They took kindly to travel, and they always behaved most admirably towards me.’

As his vessel touched the Wanganui shore, a Maori was seen scouring along it, in desperate haste.  Behind, there raced a thread of enemies, Maoris on the war-path, but the man plunged into the surf before they could overtake him.  Sir George imagined that here was another messenger, with information from the little Wanganui garrison of British soldiers.  It was necessary he should hear tidings without a moment’s delay, and he jumped into the ship’s boat, which had been lowered to pick up the swimmer.  The latter was pulled into it dripping wet, and in a rare state of excitement.

He seized Sir George, to salute him in Maori fashion, and the roll of the boat sent them both sprawling among the thwarts.  Not minding that, the Maori kept vigorously rubbing the nose of his Excellency, who made the plaintive comment, ’I could not help myself.  Besides, I had no grievance, unless that the Maori was using up, with his nose, precious minutes, to which he might better have given his tongue.  That’s an unusual compliment to pay the latter human member.’

The Wanganui crisis was settled by a show of strength, and a shrewd ukase, for Sir George set himself against more fighting.  The recalcitrant Maoris had been accustomed to come down the river to trade, getting in return, sugar, tobacco, and other dainty necessaries.

’I shut them off from all that, until such time as they should submit, and undertake to live in peace.  Neither could they meet their friends, and tiring of these laws, they gave in.’  It was the boycott, employed by a Queen’s servant, long before the word itself entered our language.

During the disturbances, a Maori leader, in sincere quest for tobacco, found something more deadly.  He was rummaging a provision chest, not his own, when a wandering bullet plunged through the roof of the wooden cottage.  It entered his head and put out his pipe for ever.  The occurrence gave the Maoris an eerie shiver, for it was as if death had fallen straight from Heaven.  They were learning to look up there, though a chief, the story went, once rebuked a missionary:  ’You tell me to turn my gaze to Heaven, not to care for earthly things, and all the time you are grabbing my land.’