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

on the mantelpiece, the window-sills, and, indeed, on the floor. Old colonial works of the earliest days of New Zealand, Tasmania, and Australia, the worn binding of which denoted their archaic value, jostled the latest scientific treatises or recently issued biographies and travels, besides magazines and illustrated papers up to date.

"Here," thought he, "is another factor in the so-called solitary, self-exiled life of this truly remarkable man—'never less lonely than when alone,' with these companions of every age and all time at his elbow. What a delicious place to read in! I can fancy him on this couch, with his pipe and a favourite author, when the day is declining, or beneath those o'er-shadowing ferns on the hillside, spending hours in a state of absolute beatitude. The open window 'gives' on the broad river, 'strong without rage, without o'erflowing full,' an occasional sail fleeting by like a returning sea-bird. Canoes are racing home after a day's fishing, the girls paddling for their lives, and encouraging one another in the mimic contest with laughing reproaches and warlike cries. The dolce [Pg 203] far niente period to be succeeded by a pedestrian expedition at the head of his faithful retainers, or a yacht voyage to Auckland, where congenial companionship at the Club and the news of the civilized world await him. How peacefully, how happily, might life flow on under such conditions! How long might slow o'ertaking age defer his approach! The only thing wanting to complete this ideal existence, for a man of his temperament, is the excitement of war; and this he is about to have."

The catalogue of pleasures open to a quasi-hermit of such various tastes and accomplishments was interrupted by the entrance of Erena, who had apparently completed her household arrangements, and was minded to add the charms of her society to his mental indulgences.

"It is easy to see that I have been away," she said. "When the fit takes him, my father surrounds himself with books, which he never puts back, and reads day and night for weeks together. He is absent-minded, and careless of the proprieties to a wonderful degree, so that I have a month's work generally in putting him and the household to rights when I return from a visit or an excursion."

"And do you often go so far from home as when I met you first?" he said. "I suppose you are not afraid?"

"Afraid?" she said, with a look of surprise and scorn. "Of what, or of whom? In time of peace who is there to harm me? When you saw me I had been to see a cousin. She sometimes comes here to stay with me."

"I am sorry not to have met her. Why didn't [Pg 204] you introduce me? Is she of the same charming complexion as yourself—that clear brunette tint which I admire so much?"

The girl laughed merrily. "Do you indeed? The truth is, she was rather shy. She is a 'full Maori,' as we say, though she talks good English, and is thought very good-looking. I would have brought her up, but she went away the morning after. Her family sent for her in a hurry. But I see my father coming up to take you to the chief, Waka Nene."

"The great chief of whom I have heard so much; I hardly noticed him before. Now tell me about him. What is his general disposition?"

"He is a man who would have made a great field-marshal in any other country. Very calm—generally, that is—looking always to the future; slow in making up his mind, never changing it afterwards. He decided many years ago that the religion of England and her laws were those for him and his tribe to adopt, and in war or peace he has never swerved from that policy."

"You said something about his being calm nearly always? Is he sometimes the contrary?"

"He is usually most dignified; but he can be terrible when really aroused. It is an old story now, but he once shot a native dead before his own friends and relations because he had helped to kill a white man treacherously."

"Indeed, that was judicial severity in earnest. How did it come about?"

"In this way. The natives at Whakatane first of all 'cut out' and burned a vessel called the Haws, or Haweis, killing part of the crew. They were headed by a chief called Ngarara, or 'the reptile'— [Pg 205] not so very unlike his namesake, our friend. He, however, was shot by a Ngapuhi chief from the deck of the New Zealander, a vessel sent from the Bay of Islands, to make an example of him. The tribe went to Hicks Bay, and, taking the pah there, at Wharekahika, captured two Europeans; one they killed, the other was rescued by a passing ship. A Ngapuhi native took part in the murder; he was then visiting at Whakatane, but lived with his wife at Tauranga. Waka Nene was on the beach at Maungatapu when this native returned. He advanced towards him and delivered a speech, taki-ing, or pacing up and down, Maori-fashion, while the other natives sat around. 'Oh,' he said, 'you're a pretty fellow to call yourself a Ngapuhi! Do they murder pakehas in that manner? What makes you steal away to kill pakehas? Had the pakeha done you any harm, that you killed him? There! that is for your work,' he said, as he suddenly stopped short and shot the native dead, in the midst of his friends. It was bold and rash, but all New Zealand knew him then and long after as the friend of the pakehas."

"That was true Jedwood justice, which used to be described as 'hang first and try afterwards,' but from his point of view it was the just vengeance of the law."

"It seemed cruel," said Erena, who had told with flashing eye and heightened colour this tale of the "wrath of a king." "But little was thought of the poor white man killed by a stranger to the tribe for an act with which he had nothing to do, and perhaps had never heard of. What the Ngapuhi suffered for was, that if he had belonged to Ngarara's tribe his act [Pg 206] would have been justified, as utu (proper vengeance). It was for mixing himself up with the blood-feud of another tribe that Waka Nene killed him; and his people saw the justice of it, and did not interfere."

Mr. Mannering, arriving at the end of the story, announced two facts, one of which was that the chief would be ready to receive them in half an hour; the other, that a timber-laden schooner would leave the wharf on the following afternoon, and no doubt would be happy to give Mr. Massinger and Warwick a passage to Auckland.

"Of course, we should be too happy to put you up for as long as you cared to stay with us; but, from what I hear, things are going from bad to worse at Taranaki. The natives have scored what they consider a success so far, and are confident that they can hold their own against the regulars. More troops have been sent for, also artillery. Nothing less than a campaign will satisfy either side now."

"If it were an ordinary time nothing would give me greater pleasure, I can say most sincerely," said Massinger. "I could fish and sail, ride and walk, and even take a turn at that mysterious industry of gum-digging, of which I hear exciting reports. But as things are, I feel in honour bound to report myself at headquarters. I am not wholly inexperienced in military matters, if a yeomanry captain's commission counts for anything."

"You will find that it has a solid value at present," said Mannering. "The colonists are so keen, that any one who has ever heard a bugle-call is looked upon as a veteran."

"Indeed, yes," laughed Erena. "We shall look in [Pg 207] the papers for what happens when Major Massinger goes to the front. Only, remember our bush rambles, and don't despise the poor natives because they have no uniform. Keep a good look-out among the tree-ferns and the manuka; there will be the danger."

Upon which Erena, who seemed quite as much inclined for tears as for laughter, retreated to her own dominions.

The great chief of the Ngapuhi stood near the carved porch of the wharepuni, surrounded by the elders of the tribe. He was dressed in his garments of ceremony, having a fine flaxen mat, worn toga-fashion, across his breast. In his hair were the rare feathers of the beautiful huia which none save a chief may wear. His staff was in his hand, which he shifted to the left as he extended his right hand in friendly greeting to the pakeha.

"My word to you is again welcome," he said, fixing his calm, inexpressive, but steadfast eyes upon the young man's face. "My pakeha friend Mannering tells me that you depart to Waitemata. It is well. My heart is sore because of the foolishness of the Mata Kawana. The runanga of the pakeha also is obdurate."

"The war has begun," said Mannering. "It seems a small matter, but this land at Waitara will be dearly bought."

"A little fire will burn the forest when the fern is dry," replied the chief, gravely. "Money was given to Teira for Waitara, but blood must be paid. The chain of the surveyor is now red."

"Will not Te Rangitake listen to Wiremu Thompson [Pg 208] and to Tamati Ngapora?" said Mr. Mannering. "Their word is not for war. Trade is better than fighting, better than too much land."

"He would listen, perhaps, but the people of the tribe will not. Then there is the King business to bring more trouble. If the Waikato join the Ngatihaua, it will be such a war as we have not seen yet."

"And the Ngapuhi?" asked Massinger, almost wondering at his own temerity.

"The Ngapuhi," replied the chief, with stately dignity, "fought for the English through the war of Honi-Heke; they fought with the Rarawas against the Ngati maniapoto and the Waikato. They will do so now. You have the writing of Waka Nene?"

He produced the paper.

A grave smile overspread the tattooed countenance as he spoke rapidly for some minutes in the native tongue to Mr. Mannering, who replied in the same language; then, saluting both in a farewell manner, he departed towards the spot where a concourse of natives of both sexes stood or sat amid the whares of the kainga.

"What did he say to you?" inquired Massinger. "Did it relate to me in any way?"

"Yes; it was only that it would be a good thing for you to keep that bit of paper. No one could tell now what was going to happen. He thought it well that you should leave in the timber vessel. I am of the same opinion, or we should not let you go just yet, I promise you."

Then they strolled homewards. The declining sun was lighting up the green meadows, in which [Pg 209] women were working in the kumera patches; the broad reach of the river, on which canoes were gliding smoothly in the half light; the grim pah, with its palisades and trenches, looking down upon the peaceful scene which, to all appearance, was fixed in Arcadian serenity. Was it fated to resound with the war-cries of hostile tribes in the coming campaign? Was the tomahawk, the club, the musket, of a ruthless foe to work war's worst horrors upon this simple industrious community of nature's children?

The evening which Massinger spent at this "kingdom by the sea" would always, he told himself, be marked with a white stone in his calendar. Nothing could have exceeded the geniality of the atmosphere. The dinner was excellent of its kind, while the saddle of home-grown, black-faced mutton, precursor of the astounding shipments which have afforded of late years such cheap and plentiful repasts to the British working man, reminded the ex-squire of his home flock. Mr. Mannering produced claret of a choice vintage, the finest which the guest had met with in New Zealand. Tales of wild life and strange company were contributed by the host and Warwick, replete with thrilling interest, as hairbreadth escapes or hand-to-hand fights were described. Erena's gay laugh or sportive disclaimer were not wanting, while Massinger took care to play the part of a discreet listener, less anxious to speak than to absorb the rare and unfamiliar knowledge which only such men as Mannering and their guide were capable of imparting.

It was arranged that in the following morning Erena should accompany him to the pah which the stranger was most anxious to see—the far-famed tribal [Pg 210] fortress, the unconquered Whiria, which every traveller since the days of Cook had lauded for its exhibition of engineering skill.

"You will have full time," said Mr. Mannering, "as the schooner does not leave until late in the afternoon, and will probably anchor at Rawene to take in Kauri gum. If so, I trust you will be able to make acquaintance with my old friend and comrade, Waterton, who is the King of the Lower Hokianga. I will say nothing more than that you will find him 'a picked man of countries,' and as