"War to the Knife;" or, Tangata Maori by Rolf Boldrewood (e novels to read TXT) 📗

chief of his day, and that is saying a good deal if all tales be true."

"How did he get over without boats; for I take it they didn't leave any canoes on the hither side?"

"Of course not. But he had plenty of man-power; so, after sacking the Arawa stronghold (in 1823) on the east coast, he dragged his fleet of canoes across by a road which he made to Lake Rotoiti, and, entering Rotorua, appeared with his fleet before the astonished lake tribes. He made straight for Mokoia, fell upon them with his customary ferocity, and, carrying all before him, put to death all who escaped the first assault. Of the whole seven hundred of the Arawa, not one is said to have escaped."

"What a tragedy! But, of course, such stratagems belonged to the accepted method of warfare of the period?"

"Yes," assented Warwick. "Almost where we stand now a chief's widow killed in cold blood (with the tribe and the mission school children looking on) a woman taken in war, as an offering to the memory of her husband. The missionary in vain attempted to prevent the sacrifice, the poor victim appealing piteously to some relative to help her. But the good man only endangered his own life, and did not succeed in saving hers. At Matamata, Te Waharoa's great fortress, when he was besieged by the Ngapuhi under Tareha, he made an unexpected sortie, and, capturing several prisoners, crucified them on the tall posts of the pah—just like those you see there—in the very sight of their friends, who retired in confusion. But I see Erena coming this way, so I must [Pg 170] stop these bloodcurdling stories; she has a strong dislike to them."

While their appointed camp was being made ready, they were taken by Warwick to the site of the Lost Village, the scene of the extinction of a hapu of the tribe as sudden and complete as the destruction of that of Te Heu Heu.

They stood on a point of land running into the lake. It was floored with masses of pumice-stone, which the waves had worn into strange and fantastic shapes. Here had been the encampment. The sites of the dwellings, by no means unsubstantial, were marked by walls, of which the lower stones only remained. The apertures showed where the entrances had been. On one fatal night the whole promontory sank downwards, drowning the sleepers, and submerging for ever the homes where generations had lived and died.

Arrived at the camp, all things wore a most cheerful aspect. The chief, according to Maori custom with distinguished visitors, had sent down cooked food, mats, and other gifts, intimating through a messenger that he would be pleased to receive a visit from the pakeha rangatira at his convenience on the morrow.

Erena arranged to abide with her friends or relations until the morrow. The humbler natives asked leave of Warwick to bestow themselves in the village, while the sullen Ngarara, who had of late remained among the rank and file, announced his intention of coming for his pay in the morning, and terminating his engagement there and then.

Warwick displayed no surprise at this announcement, but told him that he might have his pay at [Pg 171] once. This offer he accepted, and departed with ill-concealed satisfaction.

"I am not sorry to get clear of him," he said; "he is a dangerous brute, and for some reason has taken a dislike to both of us. I can see it in his face. I had a hint, too, from one of the women not to trust him."

"What earthly reason can he have? He has been treated fairly all the way."

"It's hard to say. Maoris are like other people, good and bad. I hope there will be no war-scare till we get to Auckland, at any rate. He might take the occasion to do you a bad turn; so it will be well to be on your guard."

"Perhaps he will get as good as he brings," said Massinger, with the careless confidence of youth. "I shall keep my powder dry, at any rate."

It was late before the two men separated for the night. Warwick was led into legendary lore, of which he had a prodigious quantity. He told so many tales of battle, murder, and sudden death, that the Englishman dreamed of cannibal feasts, sieges, and pitched battles, with all manner of disquieting incidents, so that the sun had risen when he awakened after a broken night's rest.

His attendants were already in waiting, and before he had finished breakfast Erena arrived, looking fresh and animated. She had made some slight alteration in her dress, and had placed some of the beautiful feathers of the huia in her hair. Altogether, there was a change in her mien, a sparkle in her expressive eyes, a lightness in her step, an added tone of cheerfulness, which Massinger could hardly account for.

[Pg 172]

He could not avoid remarking upon it. "You are surely not pleased at our parting, Erena?" he said. "Warwick and I must start for Auckland almost at once."

"So soon?" she said. "I hoped you might find something to interest you here for a few days. There's nothing so beautiful as Te Terata or Rotomahana; still, there are strange things here too."

"It must all depend upon our news of the war. It would be unwise to linger here after real fighting has commenced."

"I would not have you do it for the world," said she. "But I have a reason for not wishing you to return before Monday which I cannot tell you now. You will trust me, will you not?"

The girl's deep eyes seemed to glow with unusual lustre as she made this appeal, stretching forth her hands pleadingly, while her lip quivered as she looked at him with a wistful expression he had never noticed before.

"I dare say you know best," he said; "and after all your kindness I could not refuse you anything. But really this life is too pleasant—too much in the way of holiday-making. I must begin to do some of the work for which I came so far."

"You need not fret yourself over that part of it," she said. "You will have plenty of time to do all that is necessary. Many Englishmen come out to buy land, but they all wish they had waited before investing their money."

"You only tell me what my friends said in Auckland," he answered. "I am sure your advice is good. And now for our friend the Ariki of the lake tribes."

[Pg 173]

Being joined by Warwick, they walked forward to the spot where the chief had located himself. He was surrounded by the elders of the tribe, as well as by a considerable body of natives, among whom Massinger noticed the ill-omened countenance of Ngarara.

"That fellow has been talking to the natives," said Warwick, "and whatever he has said, it is against us; I can see by the chief's face. I am glad that Erena is with us; she has great weight with the tribe."

The chief received them with a show of civility, but was evidently on his guard, as having had his suspicions aroused. He was anxious to know for what reason Massinger had travelled to Taupo and Rotorua after having come so far over the great sea.

"The pakeha is fond of strange sights. He has never seen anything like Te Terata before, and was most anxious to visit Rotorua, of which he had heard much; also to pay his respects to the chief Hika-iro, of whom he was told before he left Auckland."

"A word has been brought to me that the pakeha has come to see the nga iwi (the tribes), and to bring back to the man who rides at the head of the soldiers and to the Mata Kawana the names of the men that can be found for war in Rotorua."

"All untrue. This pakeha dislikes war, and only fights when men insult him. He desires to return to Auckland now that he has seen Te Terata, where he will buy land from the Maoris—perhaps set up a whare-koko."

"The pakeha's words are good, but who will say that they are straight? He may return to Waitemata, and tell the man who rides in front of the soldiers [Pg 174] with red clothes that the pah at Rotorua is old and has rotten timbers, so that it would be easy for the men with red coats and the men with blue ones to take it. Why is the daughter of Mannering among the women who are bearing burdens for the pakeha? Will she follow him, and plant kumeras in his fields?"

"She will speak for herself," said Erena, stepping forward with flashing eyes and scornful mien. "If my father were here he would teach that evil-minded man"—pointing to Ngarara—"to speak with respect of his daughter. What can he say? Have I not a right to walk in the same company as this pakeha, or any other? Is not the daughter of a war-chief free to choose her friends? Has not that always been the law and the custom of the Arawa?"

Here there was a murmur of assent among the spectators, particularly from the side where the women of the tribe were assembled, while contemptuous looks were directed at Ngarara, who stood with lowering countenance, unable to face the withering scorn with which the indignant maiden regarded him.

Here Warwick took up the argument, not unreasonably considering that the just anger of the girl might carry her beyond the limits of prudence, as she stood, with burning eyes and heaving bosom, ready to invoke the wrath of the gods upon the head of the traitor who had dared to misinterpret her motives. He pointed out that she had joined the party with the express sanction of the great chief of the Ngapuhi, whose written authority and safe conduct she held; that the other natives, male and female, had been hired for the expedition on liberal terms; that they had been already paid in part (here he [Pg 175] pointed to certain articles of apparel and ornament which they had lost no time in purchasing in Ohinemutu); that Ngarara, also, who had proved ungrateful and mischievous—"slave-like" and "a liar" were the Maori terms—had benefited by the pakeha's liberality: he had been paid in full. Here he named the sum, and pointed to a new hat, which the disloyal one had incautiously bought for himself. Upon him the eyes of the whole assembly were at once turned, and his countenance changed as a murmur of disapproval arose. Finally, the pakeha had assured him that he would send his friends from beyond the sea to see the wonders of Te Terata and Rotorua; they would bring trade and spend money like water for the benefit of the Arawa and the Ngapuhi.

Having thus spoken, using no mean quality of the oratorical power which is a natural gift of the Maori race, he produced Waka Nene's passport. This the chief (fortunately one of those who, like that veteran, had been taught to read and write by the early missionaries) perused with attention, while the whole tribe gazed with awe and reverence at the mysterious paper—the written word; the magic scroll! How often the herald of fate!

In this case, however, a triumphant success followed the perusal of the few lines in the handwriting, and signed with the name, of the great chief of the Ngapuhi, who, with more than a thousand warriors at his back, had formerly raided the Waikato and the Ngatimaru, carrying war and devastation through the length of the land.

"It is enough," he said, handing back the paper to Warwick. "The pakeha is a great rangatira. He [Pg 176] is the friend of Waka Nene, who sent Erena to show him the great fountain and the hot breath of Ruapehu; he is now the friend of Hika-iro and all the lake tribes. As for you"—turning to Ngarara—"you are a bad man, a kuri, a tut�. Go!"

The discomfited Ngarara slunk away, pursued by groans and hisses from the converted crowd, who, as is usual in such cases, were more vehement in their anger in proportion to the feeling of distrust which had marked their first impressions.

Peace having been restored, and the enemy routed with loss and dishonour, there remained no reason why Massinger should not devote the few days that remained to the exploration of this fascinating province of the wonderland. Rarely did the weather in that portion of the island remain steadfast to "set fair" for so many successive days as in this halcyon time.

Whether it was the excitement of the coming strife, which he could see by the manner of Warwick and Erena that they expected, the physical exhilaration produced by the medicated atmosphere, the association with the half-savage race, who now seemed ready to bow down before him almost with adoration,—one of these causes, or the whole combined, certainly found him in a condition of spiritual exaltation such as he had never before experienced, and in vain essayed to comprehend.

"After all," he told himself, "it will be my last holiday for months, possibly for years. I shall never, perhaps, have such another ideal wandering through a 'londe of faerye,' certainly