War to the Knife 33

War to the Knife 33

"Before the year is out, surely. This war, if so it may be called,

must only be a matter of months, perhaps weeks. The tribes, after a

skirmish or two, can never be mad enough to defy the power of England.

I must make a Christmas visit to Hokianga, if indeed we do not meet in

Auckland before the spring is over, at the ratification of peace. There

are sure to be festivities to celebrate the event, and you must dance

with me at the Government House ball."

 

"Without shoes and stockings?" she said laughingly--"though I dare say

I could manage them and the other articles. But we must not deceive

ourselves. Months, even years, may not see the end of the war. May we

both be living then, and may _you_ be happy, whatever may be the fate

of poor Erena!"

 

* * * * *

 

That trim little craft, the _Pippi_, tight and seaworthy, was anchored

near the wharf when they returned. Certain cargo, chiefly kauri gum

and potatoes, had to be taken in, and the passengers were informed

that towards sundown her voyage would be resumed. No time was lost,

therefore, after lunch in sending their luggage on board, strictly

limited as it had been to the requirements of the march. Warwick, who

as paymaster had been giving gratuities to the native attendants who

had come on from Rotorua, reported that they were more than satisfied,

and would not forget the liberality of the pakeha. They would take the

chance of returning to their _hapu_, where they had first been met

with.

 

"It is as well to leave friends behind us," he said. "There will be all

kinds of bush-fighting for volunteers such as you and I may be, and

native allies often give warning when white ones would be useless. They

may counteract that scoundrel Ngarara, who will do us a bad turn yet if

he can."

 

"By the way, what became of him at Rotorua?"

 

"Oh, he cleared out. The kainga became too hot to hold him after the

chief's dismissal. He will join some party of outlaws. They will be

common enough when real business begins."

 

The chief walked up with Mannering from the kainga, and joined the

party at lunch in order to say farewell. Massinger was much impressed

with the calm dignity and courteous manner of this antipodean noble.

Apparently unconscious of any incongruity between his national

surroundings and those of his entertainers, he might have posed as

a British kinglet during a truce between the Iceni and the world's

masters.

 

"A friend of mine dined with the Reverend Mr. Marsden at Parramatta in

1814," said the host, "where he met Hongi Ika with his nephew Ruatara.

That historical personage had recently returned from England, where he

had been, if not the guest of a king, favoured with an audience, and in

other ways enjoyed social advantages. My friend said none of the swells

of the day could have conducted themselves with greater propriety or

shown a more impassive manner."

 

"All the time Hongi had blood in his heart. He deceived the good

Mikonaree," said the chief. "His thought was to destroy Hinaki and his

tribe, the Ngatimaru, as soon as he could buy muskets. Yet he did not

take Hinaki by surprise, for he told him to prepare for war, even in

Sydney. Then Totara fell, and a thousand Ngatimaru were killed. But

the times are changed. The Queen is now our Ariki; for her we will

fight, even if the Waikato tribes join Te Rangitake. The Ngapuhi and

the Rarawa have taught the Waikato some lessons before. They may do so

again."

 

* * * * *

 

With a fair wind, light but sufficient to fill the sails of the

_Pippi_, they swept down the river, which, increasing in volume near

the heads, showed an estuary more than two miles in width. Not far from

where the breakers proclaimed the presence of a bar, and opposite a

point of land historically famous for tribal orgies, stood the ancient

settlement of Waihononi. A substantial pier, available for reasonably

large crafts, also a store and hotel, showed the proverbial enterprise

of the roving Englishman. Fronting the beach stood Mr. Waterton's

dwelling, a handsome two-storied mansion, surrounded by a garden which,

even while passing, Massinger could note was spacious and thronged with

the trees of many lands. An orchard on the side nearest the ocean was

evidently fruitful, as the vine-trellises and the autumn-tinted leaves

of the pears and apples showed. An efficient shelter had thus been

provided against the sea-winds and the encroachment of the sand-dunes.

These had been planted with binding grasses, including the valuable

"marram" exotic, so wonderful a preventative of drift. Ability to

protect as well as to form this outpost was not wanting, as evidenced

by the presence of half a dozen nine-pounders, which showed their

noses through the otherwise pacific-appearing garden palisades.

 

Owing to certain mercantile arrangements, the departure of the _Pippi_

was delayed for a day; a consignment of Kauri gum had not arrived.

This was too valuable an item of freight to be dispensed with; and

the Rawene dates of sailing not being so rigidly exact as those of

the P. and O. and Messageries Maritimes, the detention was frankly

allowed. Time was not of such extreme value on the Hokianga as in

some trading ports. Mr. Waterton expressed himself charmed with the

opportunity thus afforded of entertaining any friend of Mannering's.

Massinger was equally gratified with the happy accident which permitted

him to meet another of New Zealand's distinguished pioneers. So,

general satisfaction being attained--rare as is such a result in

this world of accidental meetings and fated wayfarings--a season of

unalloyed enjoyment, precious in proportion to its brevity, opened out

unexpectedly.

 

"I should have been awfully disgusted," was his reflection, as he found

himself inducted into a handsome upper chamber, from the windows of

which he beheld a wide and picturesque prospect, the foaming harbour

bar, and the aroused ocean billows, "if I had lost this opportunity.

The delay in land-travelling might have been serious, but, as the

Maoris are not yet a sea-power, a day's passage more or less cannot

signify." So, having dressed with whatever improvement of style his

limited wardrobe permitted, he allowed the question of the sailing of

the _Pippi_ to remain in abeyance, and joined his host below.

 

Of that most interesting and delightful visit, it would be difficult

to describe adequately the varied pleasures which thronged the waking

hours. Lulled to sleep by the surges, which ceased not with rhythmic

resonance the long night through; awaking to seek the river-strand,

where the white-winged clustering sea-birds hardly regarded him as

an intruder; the well-appointed and compendious library in which to

range at will; the walks; the rides through forest and vale; the

fishing expeditions, in one of which Massinger, proud in the triumph

of having hooked a thirty-pound schnapper, discerned the snout of a

dog-fish uprising from the wave. Then the evenings, prolonged far into

the night, with tale and argument, raciest reminiscences of lands and

seas from his all-accomplished host--_quarum pars magna fuit_--author,

painter, sailor, explorer; such truly Arabian Nights' Entertainments

Massinger had never revelled in before, and never expected to enjoy

again.

 

* * * * *

 

Auckland once more! The traveller, though now a confirmed roamer,

was, for obvious reasons, by no means grieved to find himself again

in the haunts of civilized man. He had been interested, instructed,

illuminated, as he told himself, by this sojourn in woodlands wild.

Face to face with Nature, untrammelled by art, he had seen her children

in peace, in love and friendship. He was now, as all things portended,

about to obtain a closer knowledge of them in war--a rare and

privileged experience, unknown to the ordinary individual. How grateful

should he be for the opportunity!

 

His first care was to possess himself of his letters and papers. There

were not many of the former, still fewer of the latter. The county

paper gave the usual information, as to poachers fined or imprisoned,

a boy sent to gaol for stealing turnips. The hunting season had been

fortunate. More visitors than usual. The riding of Mr. Lexington,

son of the new owner of Massinger Court, had been much admired. That

gentleman had exhibited judgment as well as nerve and horsemanship in

(as they were informed) his first season's hunting in England. His

shooting, too, was exceptional, and a brilliant career was predicted

for him with the North Herefordshire hounds. A few epistles came from

club friends and relatives. They were of the sort written more or

less as a duty to the expatriated Briton, but which rarely survive

the second year. The writers seemed much in doubt as to his _locale_,

and uncertain whether New Zealand was one of the South Sea Islands or

part of Australia. They all wished him good luck, and foretold future

prosperity as a farmer, which was the only successful occupation out

there (they were told) except digging for gold, which was agreed to be

uncertain, if not dangerous. They concluded with a strong wish that

he would come back a quasi-millionaire before he became a confirmed

backwoodsman. And he was on no account to marry a "colonial" girl,

when there were so many charming, _educated_ damsels at home. This

last from a lady cousin, who had with difficulty restrained herself

from imparting the last South African news, as being apposite to his

situation and circumstances.

 

These despatches were put down with an impatient exclamation, after

which he sat gazing from the window of his hotel, which afforded a fine

view of the harbour. Then he took up a letter in a hardly feminine

hand, which he had placed somewhat apart, as a _bonne bouche_ for the

latter end of the collection. This turned out to be from his candid and

free-spoken friend, Mrs. Merivale, _née_ Branksome--a matter which he

had probably divined as soon as he glanced at the rounded characters

and decided __EXPRESSION__ of the handwriting.

 

Opening it with an air of pleasurable expectation, and observing with

satisfaction a couple of well-filled sheets, he read as follows:--

 

"MY DEAR SIR ROLAND,

 

"Now that I am safely married and all that, I may make use of

your Christian name, with the affectionate adjective, I suppose.

The adverb in the first line was part of the congratulation of my

great-aunt, who evidently thought that any girl with a decent amount

of go in her, who did not habitually confine herself to phrases out

of Mrs. Hannah More's works and read the _Young Lady's Companion_,