Adam Parore had done the damage first, pressing his team's, and then his own self-destruct button. Culpable as he was for running out his captain with an absurd call, nothing could have redeemed him in the eyes of his team after his wild charge at Philip Tufnell which cost him his wicket.

Until the run-out cock-up, he and Lee Germon, who were unbeaten overnight, had played intelligently. They defended with straight bat and preyed on anything loose in the typical way of the smaller, chunkier batsmen who use their low centre of gravity to cut square of the wicket and punch down the ground with solid efficiency.

There was nothing to suggest that the pair would not still be together at lunch. England sensed as much and were beginning to lose their strut.

Notwithstanding his rash eccentricities, one felt sympathy for Parore, who is something of a black sheep in New Zealand cricket. He is a contrary character who does not have a first-class team to represent at the moment - he has been suspended by Auckland for the rest of the season on disciplinary grounds. His technique warrants his place at No 3 and his strength of character, after being replaced by Germon as the wicketkeeper but justifying his selection by his bat alone, is just what this flimsy New Zealand team require.

Not that his colleagues will have thought so when he got back to the dressing-room. More likely they will have cleared it and let him stew in his despair.

At the evening press conference, Germon, an impressive diplomat and a smart cricket thinker, said that he had responded to his partner's call and that was that. Germon also said that at around two o'clock, when Danny Morrison, the No 11, was taking guard, he was wondering how to explain the crushing defeat to the world.

Whatever script he came up with went in the bin because Morrison was still there three hours later when the game was saved. He was pleased with himself was Danny Boy, though he pointed out that he had once batted for four hours and 25 runs in Pakistan, so yesterday's job was a picnic. This, from a man with a world record in Test ducks, 24 in 47 matches - which is a misleading statistic highlighted by the calamitous fact that Gary Sobers made as many ducks (12) as Bob Willis - and with a testimonial year promotion based around this ``duck'' achievement.

In fairness to England, Morrison batted bravely, with considerable nous and with an organised technique which belied his position in the order. He kept his head behind the line of the ball, ignored any temptation outside his off-stump and let anything short hit him on the strong shoulders which have carried New Zealand's bowling since the great Hadlee retired.

But Morrison was only a part of the escape story. Nathan Astle, the gifted 25-year-old from Canterbury, was the main thing. Astle came to the wicket when Germon was left stranded and then watched as Parore gave his wicket to rampant England. He batted shyly at first, as if a rearguard was beyond him. Then, as he remembered how he had dominated England in Ahmedabad in the first game of the World Cup last February with a brilliant hundred, he began to take control again by pushing the England fielders deep to allow him free singles and puncturing the infield when they closed in to keep him from the strike.

He had the sense to allow Morrison his head by not taking unnecessary risks to protect him. This gave Morrison confidence and confused England, who did not attack Astle in the way they would have done if he had been with a recognised batsman, concentrating instead on Morrison.

The stroke which brought Astle his hundred, a thunderous drive over extra-cover off Craig White, put the seal on his faultless innings and most important of all had the players on the dressing-room balcony - Parore et al - on their feet in acclaim.

In three hours of unlikely cricket, which will have wounded England more than they care to admit, Astle and Morrison recovered New Zealand's spirit and may well have saved their No 3 batsman from extinction.