War to the Knife 17

War to the Knife 17

"Oh yes, if you ask them, and give them a small keepsake, or something

in the way of pay, for their services."

 

"Then, I think I will----"

 

How the pakeha was about to end this speech may never be accurately

known, for at that moment a loud cry of "Erena, Erena!" arose from the

rear, and a girl, differing in several important respects from the

young women around him, moved quietly through the crowd and stood among

the foremost speakers.

 

Roland at once recognized in the new-comer a personality altogether

different from any which he had previously encountered in New Zealand.

It was not alone that she was fairer than her dusky sisters; such

complexions had he seen before, due to the intermixture of the races,

by no means uncommon in the coast towns. Many of the young people of

that blood were distinctly handsome in face and striking in figure. But

there was something regal and statuesque in the bearing of this damsel

which he had scarcely realized as of possibility in a Maori tribe.

 

Her dress consisted of a more ornate and elaborate upper garment than

the ordinary flax mat, or _puriri_, worn by the other women of the

tribe. Later on, Massinger learned to know it as a _kaitaka_, or shawl,

made of the finest flax, laboriously prepared, till it almost resembled

silk in texture and appearance; a portion of it was dyed black, and

worked in small diamond-shaped patterns, surmounted by long white

fringes.

 

It might almost have been woven in a loom, such was the precision

with which the fine twisted flax threads crossed each other at

intervals. The making of such a garment, chiefly worn by women of

rank or distinction, required both skill and patience; a whole winter

was not considered an unreasonable time to devote to its manufacture.

Gracefully draped over one rounded shoulder, it fell in folds over

a striped woollen undergarment reaching below the knees, permitting

the free, graceful, and unstudied movements so characteristic of the

untrammelled races of the earth.

 

As this girl walked slowly forward, the Englishman thought she

might have stood for a sculptor's model of a woodland nymph, as yet

unconscious of the admiring glances of Phɶbus Apollo.

 

"Who is this young woman?" said Roland to the guide. "What is her name,

and how does she come to be with the natives?"

 

"Her name is Erena Mannering," said he. "She belongs to the tribe,

though she is a half-caste. Her father was a sea-captain, and her

mother a chief's daughter. I have told her about you, and she wishes to

speak."

 

"But I cannot talk Maori. You will have to interpret what she says and

what I say."

 

The guide smiled. "She can speak English as well as we can. She was

educated at a college in Wanganui, endowed for the teaching of Maoris

and half-castes."

 

Thus emboldened, Roland advanced, and begged to be favoured with her

advice as to his making the journey to Rotomahana.

 

"I hear," he said, "that there are difficulties in the way. My good

friend Warwick thinks that if the country is not in a disturbed state

now, it soon may be, in which case there might be risks. They tell me,

however, that it is a charming place, and well worth a trial."

 

"It is the most beautiful place I ever saw or dreamed of," answered the

strange maiden, in a low rich voice, and with perfect intonation. "For

the danger, I cannot speak. There may be, if war breaks out; but Maoris

do not kill white strangers unless they have a motive. Do you care very

much to go?"

 

The expedition was now, in Roland's chivalrous mind, rapidly assuming

the form of an adventure. War, danger, and a _belle sauvage_! He

thought of "The Burial of Atala" which he had seen in the gallery of

the Louvre, and answered with decision--

 

"Always with your permission, I have made up my mind to see Rotomahana

or die."

 

The girl smiled, as she looked fixedly at the white stranger with

half-compassionate eyes.

 

"You are like all your countrymen. Only say there is a chance of being

killed, and you cannot stop them. I will speak to the chief. He may

write you a pass, and then none can harm you."

 

Whereupon she glided forward, and, threading the group, stood before

the chief, with whom she conversed earnestly for some minutes, after

which she reappeared.

 

"The chief says that you must go at your own peril. There might be

danger if war is declared. But he does not think you will be interfered

with. He will send people with you."

 

"Wonders will never cease," thought Roland. "Fancy this majestic chief

writing a note, 'Please don't eat the bearer till I come,' or something

to that effect!" But he only said that he was astonished at his

kindness, and would gratefully accept his written passport.

 

"I dare say you are surprised at a Maori chief writing at all; but Waka

Nene is a baptized Christian. He was converted by one of the early

missionaries, and taught to read and write. He has been a firm friend

of the English ever since. He fought for them in Honii Heke's war, and

will fight for them in this one, if your people are foolish enough to

bring it on."

 

"My eyes are being opened; by-and-by I shall be enlightened as to Maori

matters. At present I know little. But my friends in England will never

believe me if I tell them of a Maori chief writing notes, and a Maori

young lady talking excellent English."

 

"I am not a young lady--I am only a half-caste Maori girl; but I can

help your people now and then. Is there anything else that I can do for

you?"

 

"There is one thing more which would add so much to my pleasure in this

journey," said Roland, emboldened by the strange, unreal aspect of all

things--the flowing river, murmuring in the stillness of the night;

the savage people in groups, lying or standing around; the dramatic

scene with this half-wild maiden, with flashing eyes and mobile face,

a figure like the huntress Diana, and a rich low-toned voice that was

like the murmur of a love-song. "There is one thing which would make

the journey perfect."

 

"What is that?" asked the damsel, looking him full in the face with the

clear unabashed eyes of youth and innocence.

 

"That you would accompany us."

 

He felt, as he uttered the words, that he had presumed too far on such

a slight acquaintance, and that she might resent the proposal.

 

Much to his relief, however, she smiled like a pleased child, and

looking at him with much earnestness, said--

 

"Would you really like me to go?"

 

"Like you to go! Why, I should be charmed. Think of the advantage to me

of a companion familiar with all the points of the landscape, as well

as every legend and historic locality. But it is too great a favour to

ask."

 

The girl's eyes glowed, as with animated countenance Roland proceeded

to detail the amazing benefits of this arrangement. But, true to her

sex, she appeared to hesitate, and finally said she must consult the

chief; if he offered no objection, they would start early on the

following morning.

 

Nothing could be more promising or more in accordance with Roland's

feelings. His guide, who had contented himself with putting in a

word or two now and then, had a short conversation in Maori with the

new-found goddess. Then bidding him good-night, she passed on with

swift steps towards the group of elders, where the chief still stood.

There she apparently entered upon the affair of the expedition, for

question and answer were quickly interchanged, and the earnest tones

of the speakers--several of the surrounding elders having joined

in--showed that the question was being fully debated. Lastly, at a few

sentences uttered by the youngest man of the party, she laughingly

shook her hand threateningly at him, and ran lightly back to the part

of the _kainga_ from which she had first emerged.

 

"It is all right," said Warwick; "the chief has consented. Erena will

go with us tomorrow. She is better than any man on a journey, and knows

every step of the way. We had better make an early start."

 

This Mr. Massinger had every inclination to do; so, after smoking a

couple of pipes in front of their temporary castle, producing tobacco,

and distributing largesse of the same in free fashion, which conduced

to his instant popularity, he lay down in his _whare_ enveloped in rugs

and coverings, where the rippling river lulled him into sleep so sound

that the chatter of the village gossips, and even the baying of the

dogs, which occasionally broke into chorus, had no power to disturb it.