The relatives of Henare and Kiri were very proud of Henare in his new uniform, and they told him that he must prove himself worthy of the hand of Kiri, the Maori princess, and grand-daughter of a great warrior chief.

Henare looked at himself in the glass and felt that he was worthy of her, or any other princess, already. He did not want to seem too cheap, because there was Wiremu to be reckoned with.

He enjoyed the camp life, the drills and parades, and entered into soldiering with as much ease and good will, as if he had been born to it.

The general opinion of the officers was that Tiki (or "Dickie" as they nick-named him) would give a good account of himself at the front.

[pg11] It was a great day in Wellington when the first batch of Maori volunteers embarked on the grey troopship. Henare and his mates were bubbling over with fun and excitement. The cheering crowds of Pakehas and Maoris, the fluttering flags, and the cheerful music of the bands, made them all feel that they were off to a grand old picnic. They laughed and joked, and sang until they were hoarse.

A few hours later, however, things did not look so bright. These Maori lads had never been away from New Zealand before, and it was sad to see their beloved land sinking out of sight into the deep blue ocean.

When the last trace had disappeared, Henare, leaning over the vessel's side, said to Honi in a hoarse whisper: "My korry, Noo Zealan' all gone now." Honi replied with affected cheerfulness: "Nemine, he jump up again bimeby," and then walked away.

[pg12] All the boys tried to make out that they were not seasick, and poked themselves away into all sorts of nooks and corners to conceal the fact.

Henare thought that up in the rigging would be a good place, but they soon chased him out of that. He then leant over the taffrail and mused of home and Kiri.

A voyage to England in these days is eventful for anyone, but it was very much more so for the Maori boys.

When they had settled down to the routine of life on a troopship, they became keenly interested in it all and never had a "dull" day.

The first port of call filled them with much excitement and gratification—and a thirst for further adventures.

Henare rather prided himself on his letter-writing, and seized every opportunity to exercise his "gift." He disdained to write in his native language, but preferred [pg13] "te good Englan' talk" even when writing to Maoris. At the first port he posted several letters to friends in New Zealand. One was to Kiri and another was to Wiremu.

To Kiri he wrote, among other things:

"I no forget about you yet, t'that why I write t'this letter, tell you no forget me. More better you have te British soldier than te frightened bloke like Wiremu stoppin' away from te fight. T'this ole troopship take us over te sea all right, and when te war all over he bring us back an' t'then I marry you pretty quick."

To Wiremu he wrote:—

"Py cripes, you look out when I come back if you talk too much wid te Kiri. She no belong to you. She my wahine all right. No good yer trick, you better come to te war; no stop home spoilin' te dog fight [pg14] and try take another feller gel when him away in Shermany. Me te crack shot now so you look out."

After a voyage of nine weeks without serious mishap the Maoris landed in England "All well," and ready for the Huns.