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

of the approach of strangers. Cyril Summers and his household still clung to their lodge in the wilderness, in spite of the disquieting rumours that evil was abroad, that murder and outrage were still possible. As a matter of history, it has always been stated that, even after the official surrender of an enemy, and the disbandment of troops, guerilla bands capable of the wildest excesses are formed, recruited from the more desperate ruffians, whom only the stern punishments of martial law could hold down. Accustomed to comparative licence, often tacitly condoned in time of war, and being—to give them their due—often recklessly daring, their offences against discipline are leniently judged. But when the excitement [Pg 360] and the prizes of the campaign have been removed, the period of enforced repose often appears to the restless warrior of either side a season especially arranged for the payment of outstanding grudges, or the plunder of isolated homesteads. To the malevolent and treacherous Ngarara, devoured with jealousy of the pakeha preferred before him, it appeared as though the demons of wrath and revenge, worshipped by his ancestors, had delivered his rival into his hands. Infuriated at hearing of his removal and partial recovery, he had, by means of spies and kinsfolk, kept himself well informed of Erena's movements. Fearing that the wounded soldier would be withdrawn from his powers of injury, he resolved upon a bold stroke, by which he could free himself of his rival, and possess himself of the girl, for whom he was but too willing to sacrifice life itself.

Hypatia, ever alert to encounter the day's labours or adventures, had been the first to hear the announcement of the arrival. With Mr. Summers, she walked towards the small party which, emerging from the forest, came slowly along the path to the homestead.

"These are strangers," said he, looking earnestly at the cort�ge. "Three or four women, not more than a dozen men, and some one, either weak or wounded, carried in a litter. Who can they be? To what tribe do they belong?" he asked of the Maori servant woman who had followed them.

"Ngapuhi," said she confidently. "Rotorua natives, some of them, going to the coast with sick man."

"Who is the girl walking by the litter?" asked Hypatia, with quickened interest. "She is taller than the other women."

[Pg 361]

"Most like Erena Mannering. Not sure; but walk like her. Half-caste she is, daughter of war-chief. Pakeha rangatira, belong to tribe all the same."

"Now, I wonder if this can be Lieutenant Massinger?" said Summers. "He has not been seen since the Gate Pah affair. This Erena Mannering was reported to have carried him off, when he fell fighting bravely beside Von Tempsky. His place of refuge may have become insecure; for that or other reasons they may wish to reach the coast."

Hypatia made no reply, but, walking quickly with her companion, reached the bearers of the invalid, as the girl, signing to them to halt, accosted Mr. Summers.

"You are the missionary of Oropi?" said she, in perfectly good English, spoken with a purity of intonation not always remarked in the colonists of presumably higher education. "We are bringing a Forest Ranger who was badly wounded at the Gate Pah to the coast. Will you kindly allow us to rest for a day? He is very low, and much fatigued by the journey."

As she spoke, Hypatia fixed her eyes, with feelings alternating between astonishment and admiration, upon this altogether amazing young person. Dressed, or rather draped, like the native women who formed part of the escort, without covering to head or feet, the simple attire rather heightened than disguised her beauty. Her free and haughty carriage, utterly unconscious as she seemed of her unconventional attire, the splendour of her glorious eyes, startled Hypatia, while her graceful pose as she turned to explain the situation reminded the English girl of the statue of Diana which she had seen in the Pitti palace at Rome.

As the two girls faced each other, with the half-inquiring, [Pg 362] half-challenging regard of the partly conscious rivals of their sex, they would have formed a contrast, rarely met in such completeness, between the finished aristocrat of the old world and this wondrous embodiment of all the womanly graces, reared amid the lonely lakes and wildwood glades of a far land.

Alike in beauty, though one possessed the blue eyes, the abundant fair hair, the delicate rose-bloom of the mother isle; the other the ebon tresses, the flashing eyes, burning from time to time with a strange lustre;—alike their classic figures and graceful movement, each might have stood, had there been a painter in attendance, as the realization of the glories and graces of early womanhood.

Hypatia took the initiative. "Of course Mr. Summers, all of us indeed, will be too happy to be of service in such a sad case. And what is the name of the wounded man? I am very pleased to meet you."

"And I also," said the Maori maiden. "You will speak to him, will you not? Perhaps you may have seen him before."

Walking to the litter, a rude but efficient couch, Hypatia looked down upon the wounded soldier, who tried feebly to raise himself. The wasted form and drawn features of the sick man startled her, while in the bearded face and pallid brow, from which he feebly essayed to push back the clustering curls, she almost failed to recognize Roland de Massinger.

For one moment she gazed in horror and dismay, then taking his wasted hand and bending over his couch, the once calm and self-repressed Hypatia Tollemache covered her face with her hands and wept like a child.

"You know each other," said the forest maiden, [Pg 363] in a deep low voice. "I thought perhaps it might be you—you for whose sake he came to our unhappy land, for whose sake he now lies, perhaps dying."

"Erena!" said the sick man, "what are you saying? Surely you are not angry with Miss Tollemache? Is it her fault that I loved her once? Let it be sufficient that now I love you. Give me your hand."

With a look of ineffable tenderness, she gave her hand obediently as does a child.

"Miss Tollemache—Hypatia," he said, "she saved my life; will you not be friends?"

A brighter gleam came into the tearful eyes of the English girl. "You are more noble than I," she said. "His life has been given to you, to save and retain. Let us be sisters."

They clasped hands with the fervour of generous youth, ere the passions that rend and ravage have darkened the spirit. As their eyes met, the wounded man looked up with a faint smile.

The state of Massinger's health necessitated more than one day's sojourn at Oropi. However, on the following morning a marked improvement had taken place, so that it was decided in council that a farther stage might be reached on the way to Tauranga after the day's rest. The sufferer had been allotted the chief guest-chamber, a modest apartment, but exquisitely clean, whence looking forth on the mission garden, the fruit trees and old-fashioned English flowers recalled that beloved home-land which he had almost despaired of seeing again.

At the evening meal Erena, who had caused one of her dusky handmaidens to bring from the camp a mysterious package, appeared in European costume. [Pg 364] Quietly but well dressed according to the fashion of the day, it was a revelation to her entertainers and to Hypatia to mark the ease and self-possession which she exhibited in her new part. The soft rich voice, the perfect intonation, the repose of her manner, through which but an occasional flash of emotion showed itself; the total absence of gesture which, in her other habiliments, seemed natural to her;—all these, as Hypatia admitted to herself, placed this antipodean maiden on a perfect equality with the best specimens of European society. When together they saw to the comfort of their patient, nothing could have surpassed the good taste and delicacy of her ministrations. Without making parade of proprietorship in the helpless sufferer, she assumed the rank of his fianc�e, appearing equally confident of her companion's acceptance of that of friend and well-wisher.

In the case of many other women, her frank trust might possibly have been misplaced. But the justice and generosity which were the leading qualities of Hypatia Tollemache's nature, rendered her perfectly safe as a companion, precluded by every impulse from conspiring against her happiness.

As for Mrs. Summers and her husband, they were completely fascinated by her, holding that the reputation which she enjoyed for beauty and intelligence was even less than her due.

Hypatia, it may be, in the seclusion of her chamber, reflected, as other maidens have been known to do, on perhaps the too hasty dismissal of a lover so brave, so loyal, in every respect so worthy of woman's holiest devotion. She had, against her heart's inclination, against his fervent appeals, resolved [Pg 365] to give her life to the regeneration of the race, to the reform of the social system, to the alteration of a condition of things which the efforts of saints, philosophers, rulers, and prophets throughout nearly two thousand years had failed materially to change. "Who was she," it now seemed to be inquired of her, by an inward voice that would not be stilled, "that she should presume to expect to move this colossal structure, so firmly rooted in the usages of immemorial custom?"

In her first efforts, she had been discouraged and disillusioned. In this her second endeavour, what had she effected? As a direct result of her hasty and inconsiderate action, Massinger had abandoned home and friends, rushed away for distraction to this Ultima Thule, at the very end of the habitable globe, where he was now lying between life and death. And, as if that was not a sufficiently dolorous conclusion, his life had been saved by the courage and devotion of another woman, to whom his faith was justly, irrevocably pledged. The full bitterness of her position was reached, when she acknowledged to herself that in her heart of hearts she was now conscious of feelings which before she had only suspected.

But Hypatia Tollemache, strong and deeply seated as were her primal emotions, was no lovesick girl to bewail herself over the inevitable; to chafe to morbid unrest against Destiny, that ancient force, which even the gods of an earlier world were powerless to disturb. No! "a perfect woman nobly planned," she accepted the blame of her mistaken act, as it now appeared to her, and facing, as she had full many a time and oft done before, an uncongenial part in life's mysterious drama, resolved to follow unswervingly the path [Pg 366] marked out for her by duty and principle. Was she to falter, to fail, because the unexpected had happened; because life's thorny path had become difficult, well-nigh impenetrable? "If thou faint in the day of adversity, thy strength is but small," said the wise king. More than once in time of trial had she braced up her courage by recalling the warning. Once more she looked the conflict of the future firmly in the face, and leaving her chamber with fixed resolve and earnest prayer, felt a renewed confidence in her ability to withstand, to undergo, whatever trials might be in store for her.

On the following morning, which had been fixed for the departure of the sick man and his attendants, it was evident that another day would be required for restoring his strength, which had been much drawn upon by the journey. He was most anxious to proceed; but Mr. Summers, who was not without some knowledge of medicine, as well as practical experience, distinctly forbade his removal. "It would be most dangerous," he asserted; "and at least twenty-four hours' additional rest was required before the patient could think of pursuing the journey." Mrs. Summers also pleaded with Erena, who, though manifestly anxious to reach a place of safety, consented to remain one more day.

"Do you think there is danger?" asked her gentle hostess. "I thought the war was all over."

"The fight at Orakau is over, the last stand at Te Ranga was made in vain; but the war is still in the hearts of the Waikato and the Ngaiterangi," said the Maori girl. "My father has enemies, and I, even I, have those who wish me evil. There is one whom [Pg 367] I fear for his sake"—here she intimated the room wherein Massinger lay. "It is hard to know where he will strike."

"But do you think he would come here?" said Mrs. Summers, turning pale. "We have never done anything but work and teach and pray for the welfare of the natives."

"When blood has been once shed, there is little thought of good or evil. And besides the old custom of revenge, a new religion has sprung up among the tribes, called the 'Pai Marire.' They have a false prophet, Te Ua, who persuades them that the pakehas are doomed to destruction. They also carry about with them the head of an officer of the 57th, whom they surprised at Ahuahu, and perform sacred rites around it."

"What a dreadful thing!" said Mrs. Summers, rapidly approaching a state