War to the Knife 19

War to the Knife 19

"Oh! he is very clever, and a _toa_ as well--that is, a known athlete

or warrior. There has been no fighting since Heki's war in 1845, or he

would have distinguished himself in that way, I feel sure."

 

"And now, tell me, do _you_ think there is any danger of war breaking

out, as some people think?"

 

"There _will_ be war," replied the girl, fixing her eyes upon him with

a sad and boding __EXPRESSION__, "if the Governor takes the Waitara block

by force. The chief thinks so too. He has remonstrated against it,

though he will fight for your Queen to the death, and lead his tribe,

the great tribe of the Ngapuhi, against her enemies."

 

"It is a pity it cannot be avoided; but, after all, there are worse

things than war."

 

"If there are, I do not know them," said this Egeria of the South. "I

have not seen a Maori war, but if you had heard the things I have heard

you would never speak lightly of one of the most awful things in the

world."

 

"Then I hope there will _not_ be war," said Massinger, with a smile.

"Personally, I suppose the sooner I get over to Rotorua and back to

Auckland the better it will be. But whatever happens, I shall always

thank the fates that sent me on this particular journey."

 

"Then you are pleased, even now," she said. "Oh, I am so glad!" and

coming nearer to him, she took both his hands in hers, and, with a

gesture of childish simplicity, pressed them warmly, gazing into his

face with a look of frank delight, as might a sister thanking a brother

for a birthday gift.

 

He had never met this type of womanhood before, and might have well

been pardoned if he had misunderstood the feelings which appeared to

actuate this woodland sylph. But possessing, as he did, a sympathetic

insight into the higher nature of women, he judged correctly that she

was merely pleased with his approval of her presence and companionship.

 

As she withdrew her hands in a natural and instinctive fashion, while

the blush which mantled under her clear brown skin showed that she felt

herself to have overpassed the conventional line of courtesy, he half

turned towards their attendants, who in Indian file were following up

their footsteps. The Maori Ngarara was foremost on the trail, and must

have noticed their attitude. For one brief moment his countenance wore

the impress of all the darker passions, then relapsed into its usual

__EXPRESSION__ of sullen dissatisfaction.

 

"We must descend now," said she, after their meal was ended. "I will

promise not to go so fast for a while; you will find the evening walk

quite a saunter after this morning."

 

"And why, may I ask, did you make the pace so good then?"

 

"I had a reason, a good one," she replied; "I did not hear about it

till we were half way, or I should most certainly never have come this

route at all. Did you observe a Maori woman come up for a few minutes,

speak to Warwick, and go away?"

 

"Yes. I thought she might have some connection with the bearers. I

hardly knew whether she stayed with them or disappeared. Did she bring

a message?"

 

"Yes, and a most important one, too. That's why I pushed on at such

a rate. If we had been nearer home, I should have returned; but the

retreat would have been more dangerous than an advance."

 

"How can that be?"

 

"That woman ran twenty miles to warn me that Taratoa was out with a

_taua_--a war expedition. She said the natives believed that the war

was all but declared. Now, as Warwick will tell you, this Taratoa is

one of the most turbulent and bloodthirsty chiefs of his ruthless

tribe; and that is saying a good deal. He might--I don't say that he

would, but it is quite possible--think it a fine chance of increasing

his _mana_ by killing the first pakeha, which would mean the _mataika_

in the war--a most coveted distinction."

 

"What a ruffian! But 'dans la guerre c'est la guerre.' Pardon me for

quoting the French proverb."

 

"Mais, monsieur, je le comprend parfaitement," she returned for answer,

with a mock obeisance. "You must remember that there are here French as

well as English colonists. And besides, I spent a year at Akaroa long

ago, which, as all the world knows--the New Zealand world, I mean--was

at one time a French settlement."

 

Massinger bowed with all the grace he could muster, and apologized

for thinking it impossible that a New Zealand girl was conversant

with French. "You remind me," he said, "of the Admiral in 'Singleton

Fontenoy,' a naval novel of a later day than good old Captain Marryat.

He asks one of the middies, when before Acre, if he spoke Turkish.

 

"'No, sir. Oh no! what made you think so?'"

 

"'Well, you youngsters seem to have learned everything nowadays. I

thought you might know that among other languages.'"

 

She laughed at this with the unreserved merriment which characterized

her when not serious or mournful, which, indeed, was the ordinary

__EXPRESSION__ of her features when in repose.

 

"You had better ask Warwick if _he_ understands Turkish. He knows most

things. We must consult with him as to what is best to be done, when we

camp. But I think we had better push on to the Lakes, where we shall be

in the territory of Te Heu Heu. He will protect us."

 

So they fared on. Through flax swamps, where the sodden soil was often

midleg deep; anon through rushing ice-cold streams, where there was

difficulty in keeping footing, even when in no great depth of water;

up the rugged sides of mountains, where the narrow path lay between

the century-old pines, knee-high in bracken, and was occasionally

obstructed by the fallen mass of some patriarch of the forest, which

forbade direct progress.

 

Meanwhile, this wood-nymph and her attendants, the latter of whom

carried burdens of no mean weight, tripped onward swiftly, as if

the ordinary difficulties of such a journey were hardly worthy of

notice. Erena sped along like a votary of the huntress Diana. Few

obstacles made any noticeable difference to her pace, as she glided,

at the head of the party, with serene self-confidence--a marvel of

grace, swiftness, and endurance. Scarcely less was he stricken with

admiration at the courage and activity of the humbler members of the

party, particularly the women. They carried their burdens over the

difficulties of the road with unflinching perseverance, following in

Indian file the footsteps of Warwick, who occasionally made a detour,

when he thought it advantageous.

 

"What astonishing infantry a race like this would furnish!" thought

Massinger. "Amid these forests, reasonably drilled and armed, in a

guerilla war they could stand against the best troops in the world!

Sheltered by these ancient woods, the breast-high bracken, these

thickets impervious to all men but themselves, what chance would

disciplined troops have against them? I hope to Heaven that we may

never have to war with them _à l'outrance_. A succession of skirmishes

would not matter so much, but a prolonged war would be one of the most

expensive, and in some respects disastrous, on record."

 

He was recalled from these reflections by the voice of the guide,

who had fallen back, and stood at some short distance, awaiting an

opportunity to speak.

 

"I have halted the party," he said, "for we have no great distance to

go, and may travel in a leisurely manner. We shall soon have our first

sight of Taupo and commence to open out the hot lake country, with all

the wonders of which you have heard."

 

"I am not sorry," said Massinger; "for though nothing could be more

to my taste than our present form of journeying, yet I must confess

to feeling impatient to behold these marvels that are in every one's

mouth. I hope I shall not be disappointed."

 

"If so, you will be the first to confess it," said Warwick. "I have

seen them many times, but they always fill me with fresh wonder and

admiration. Nothing, in some respects, is equal to them in the world, I

believe. 'See Rotomahana and die,' may well be said."

 

"When I do see it, it will be well described. Between Erena and

yourself, I shall lose no part of legend or tradition."

 

"She is far better at the legendary business than I am," said Warwick.

"She has such a wonderful memory, and knows all the old tales and

_waiatas_ by heart. I tell her she should write a _pukapuka_ about

the place and the people. One is just as strange as the other."

 

"I think I must," said the subject of their conversation, who had

now approached, after concluding a colloquy with the women of the

expedition. "It seems hard that so many of these legends should be

lost. When I was a child, they used to be sung and repeated at every

camp fire. Now they are on the way to be forgotten. My father was

always promising to make a collection of them, but they strayed into

'By-and-by Street, which leads to the House of Never.'"

 

Massinger smiled. "I know that street myself, I must confess; but

while I live in your country it shall be _tapu_. The land of _Maui_ is

the place, and this year of grace the appointed time, for my work and

adventure."

 

"And if there should be war?" said she, regarding him with a searching

look, not wholly, as he thought, without a shade of doubt.

 

"All the more reason," he replied. "There is such a scarcity of honest

fighting nowadays, that it will be a treat to face the real thing in

one's own person."

 

For one instant an answering smile lit up her face as she gazed at

Massinger, who unconsciously drew himself up and raised his head, as

though fronting an advancing column. She sighed, as she came forward,

and lightly touching his shoulder, looked wistfully into his face.

"You love war; it is in your blood. So do my people; it is the breath

of their nostrils. My father, too, is a war-chief of the Ngapuhi, and

fought with them in the old wars. But if you had ever seen Maoris in or

after a battle, you would think you were in a land of demons, not men."

 

"A man can only die once. Your tribe, too, is on our side, is it not? I

can't think the hostile natives will stand long before regular troops."

 

"Look at that bush," she said, pointing to a dense thicket of _Koreao_,

where all sorts of horizontal climbers and clingers seemed struggling

for the mastery, and into which the van of the little _cortége_ had

cast themselves, and gliding through, apparently without effort, had in

part disappeared. "How do you think that a company of a regiment would

advance or retreat, with Ngarara" (that amiable savage had just passed

from view) "and a few hundreds of his tribe firing at you from behind

it?"

 

"To tell truth, I think Ngarara would rather like it now, if he could

get the chance; but I am a fair snapshot, and would try for first pull.

However, we won't anticipate disagreeables. How far is Rotomahana? I am

dying to see the terraces."

 

"You pakehas are always gay," she said. "Perhaps it is better to

enjoy while we may. I wish I could do so. But our _Tohunga_ has been

prophesying, and his words have cast a shadow over my mind, which I

vainly try to resist."

 

"But surely your education has taught you to despise superstitious

fears?"

 

"My reason does so; but the senses revolt, strange as it may seem. I

cannot get away from a dread of impending evil. My father, who has

Highland blood in his veins, calls it the 'second sight.'"