War to the Knife 25

War to the Knife 25

The three principal personages remained in converse long after the

usual time of separation. The night was fine, and the surroundings were

foreign to the idea of early repose. The sounds of the fire-breathing

agencies, above and below, grew more distinct in the hush of night. An

occasional steam jet shooting into the air appeared like an emissary

sent to warn of approaching danger.

 

"I should like to have seen the terraces by night," said Massinger,

"but it is not a country for late travelling."

 

"No, indeed," said Warwick; "a false step, a stumble into the wrong

pool, has before now cost a man his life. I once saw a poor dog scalded

to death in a moment. I think you will find Rotorua and the Valley of

Geysers sufficiently interesting. If you care for Maori legends, you

should ask Erena to tell you the tale of her ancestress, the beautiful

Hinemoa."

 

"What a pretty name! And was she an ancestress of yours? What did she

do to acquire immortality?--for I have heard her name, as a heroine,

without being told the legend."

 

"When we reach Rotorua, I will show you Mokoia, the island to which

she swam," said Erena, with a smile. "Also the point Wai-rere-wai on

the mainland, from which she started; besides the hot spring which she

reached, close to her lover's village. It is a long swim, but I suppose

the girls of her day were more accustomed to the water than we are now."

 

* * * * *

 

The third day was nearing its close when the little party, having

skirted the three-cornered deep blue lake of Taka-tapu, threaded the

tangled forests over the Waipa plain, and ascended the bare hills of

the range which looks on Rotorua. The lake, gleaming in the sunlight,

lay beneath them, with the fumaroles, steam-hammers, and geysers of

Whakarewarewa in full blast.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER VIII

 

 

It was decided to camp on the border of the lake between the village of

Ohinemutu, where the old historic _pah_, with its grim carven giants

of the Wharepuni, looks frowningly down upon the little Roman Catholic

chapel. Clouds of steam arose in all directions above them, while the

scattered pools exhibited the pervading warmth combined with sulphur

fumes.

 

"We are now on historic ground," said Warwick; "for, without counting

Hinemoa--there is her island--all manner of legends abound; some of

them horrible enough in all conscience, ghastly to a degree," he

continued, gazing across the lake. "Mokoia looks peaceful enough now,

with scarcely a hundred people on it all told. Yet what tales those

rocks could tell! The island was a grand resort for the tribe in

the days before gunpowder. In war-time they could paddle over from

this side, and defy any enemy that had arrived on foot. There was no

waterway to Rotorua. However, Hongi-ika-kai-tangata taught them a

lesson."

 

"What was that?"

 

"When the tribe retired there, as usual, they did not reckon on an

unexpected move of the fiercest and most crafty 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 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 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.

 

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."

 

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."