War to the Knife 34

War to the Knife 34

"Dear me! as my aunt says, I am getting quite flowery and didactic.

Isn't that something in the teaching or preaching line? I forget

which. Harry says I am a journalist spoilt. I don't know about that,

but I _should_ like to be a war correspondent. I am afraid there

is no opening for a young woman in that line yet--a young woman

who isn't clever enough to be a governess, loathes nursing, would

assassinate her employer if she was a lady help, but who can walk,

ride, drive, play tennis, and shoot fairly. By the way, there's going

to be a war in the South Island, isn't it? Couldn't you contrive to

be badly wounded? and perhaps--only perhaps--she, 'the fair, the

chaste, the inexpressive she,' might come out to nurse you.

 

"Harry says _that's_ a certain cure for--let me see--indecision,

the malady of the century as regards young women. I remember being

troubled with it myself once. He says I was--whereas now--but I won't

inflict my happiness upon you.

 

"What a long letter, to be sure! Never mind the nonsense part of it.

That is partly to make you laugh. He advises you, in the elegant

language of the day, to 'keep up your pecker,' which he says means

_nil desperandum_. I say ditto to Harry, and ask you to believe me,

_always_,

 

"Your sincere friend,

 

"ELIZABETH MERIVALE."

 

Massinger put down the letter of his frank and kindly correspondent

with feelings of a mixed nature, akin to pleasure, as evidencing an

interest in his welfare not all conventional, but, on the other hand,

recalling regrets exquisitely painful. These being partially dulled, he

had mistakenly concluded that they had no further power to wound. And

now, after a comparative cure, when his tastes had been satisfied and

his curiosity aroused by the incessant marvels of a fantastic region,

he had been recalled to the old land, resonant with the past anguish.

The inhabitants of this enchanted isle, with their mingled pride and

generosity, chivalrous courage and ferocious cruelty, had aroused his

sympathies. There, beyond all, stood the figure of Erena, with her

frank, half-childish ways, her countenance at one time irradiated with

the joyous abandon of an innocent Bacchante, as she laughed aloud while

threading with him the forest paths; at another time with shadowed face

and downcast mien, when a presage of future ills caused the light to

fade out of her luminous eyes.

 

The free forest life, with its daily recurrence of adventure and

excitement, had sufficed for all the needs of his changed existence.

And now, even by the hand of a friend, were the seeds of unrest sown.

He thought of Hypatia Tollemache stricken down in the pride of her

mental and bodily vigour, laid low in the conflict in which she had so

rashly, so wastefully, risked her magnificent endowments. Had he been

in the neighbourhood of Massinger, to cheer, to comfort, to gently

question her plan of life, to offer to share it with her, to urge his

suit with all the adventitious aid of predilection and propinquity,

what success, unhoped for, indescribable, might he not then have

gained?

 

At this stage of his reflections he collected his correspondence,

and, locking them up in his long-disused travelling portfolio, went

forth into the town. Here he was confronted with the world's news, and

details of this, the latest of Britain's little wars, in particular.

First of all he betook himself to the offices of the New Zealand Land

Company, where his first colonial acquaintance and fellow-passenger,

Mr. Dudley Slyde, might be found.

 

That gentleman was, happily, in, but his arduous duties as secretary

and dispenser of reports seemed for the moment in abeyance. He was

engaged in packing a sort of knapsack to contain as many of the

indispensable necessaries of a man of fashion, and apparently a man

of war, as could be adjusted to an unusual limitation of space. A

rifle stood in the corner of the apartment; a revolver of the newest

construction then attainable lay on a table; the smallest modicum of

writing materials was observable; and, neatly folded on a chair, was a

serviceable military uniform.

 

"Delighted to see you, old fellow," said Mr. Slyde. "Sit down. Try this

tobacco: given up cigars for the present--don't carry well. Suppose

you've taken to a pipe, too, since you've begun your Maori career? Got

back alive, I see. Didn't join the tribe, eh? Report to that effect.

Girl at Rotorua, fascinating, very."

 

This suggestive compendium of his life and times caused a smile.

 

"You're as near the truth as rumour generally is," he said; "but I

wonder that people concern themselves with the doings of this humble

individual."

 

"New country, you know. Great dearth of social intelligence since the

war. Tired of that, naturally. Free press, you know; say anything,

confound them!"

 

"Another chapter in the book of colonial experience, which I shall

learn by degrees. But what am I to understand by these warlike

preparations?"

 

"You see before you a full private in the Forest Rangers. Must join

something, you know. Situation serious. More murders. Waikato said to

be joining. Taranaki settlers afraid of sack and pillage. Troops and

men-of-war sent for. In the mean time, the devil to pay. What shall

_you_ do? Go back to England? I would, if I wasn't a poor devil of a

Company's clerk and what you call it."

 

Massinger stood up, and looked at the lounging figure fixedly for a

moment, until he saw a smile gradually making its way over the calm

features of his companion.

 

"No, of course not," he said, as if answering an apparent protest.

"Only my chaff. What will you join? Town volunteers? militia? _Ours_

rather more aristocratic; trifle more danger, perhaps. Corps of the

Guides, and so on. Von Tempsky's Forest Rangers! Splendid fellow,

Von--Paladin of the Middle Ages. Seen service, too. Son of a Prussian

general, I believe. Commission in 3rd Fusiliers in '44. Cut that, and

travelled through Central America. Commanded irregular Indian regiment.

Piloted officers of _Alarm_ and _Vixen_ in affair of the Spanish

stockades at Castilla Viojo. Been in front everywhere, from Bluefields

Bay to Bourke and Wills' Expedition in Australia, when he refused to be

second in command. Man and regiment suit you all to pieces."

 

"Just the man I should choose to serve under. Where can I be sworn in,

and when?"

 

"All right; I'll show you. Leave for the front, day after tomorrow.

Jolly glad to have you, believe me."

 

This important ceremony being performed in due course, Massinger betook

himself to the office of Mr. Lochiel, where he expected to receive

fuller information as to the state of the country, and the prospects

of a general rising. He was received by that gentleman with warmth and

sincerity of welcome.

 

"My dear fellow," said he, "I am delighted to see you safe back.

Macdonald and I were most anxious about you. We knew that you must pass

through Maori country, and in the present disturbed state of the island

there was no saying what might have happened to you, or indeed to any

solitary Englishman. I hear that you returned by sea."

 

"I was advised to do so by Mr. Mannering at Hokianga, with whom I

stayed for a few days."

 

"Best thing you could have done, and no one was more capable of giving

you advice. He is judge and law-giver among the Ngapuhi, and a war

chief besides. A truly remarkable man. I suppose you saw his handsome

daughter? Wonderful girl, isn't she?"

 

"She certainly did surprise me. It seems strange that she can consent

to lead a life so lonely, so removed from the civilization which she is

so fitted to appreciate."

 

"And adorn likewise. We are all very fond of her here. But she is

passionately attached to her father, and nothing would induce her to

leave him. Have you heard the latest war news? Came in by special

messenger this afternoon."

 

"No, indeed. I am only generally aware that matters are going from bad

to worse; that the militia and volunteers are called out; also the

Forest Rangers, in which band of heroes I have just enrolled myself.

Dudley Slyde and I will be companions in arms."

 

"Slyde! Dudley Slyde? Very cool hand; rather a dandy, people say. All

the more likely to fight when he's put to it. He knows the country

well, too. There is no doubt in my mind that every white man in the

North Island who can carry arms will have to turn out."

 

"And how long do you think the war will last? Six months?"

 

"I should not like to say six years, but it will be nearer that than

the time you mention. Maclean thinks five thousand troops will be

required if the neighbouring tribes join Te Rangitake. Richmond is of

the same opinion. Three Europeans have been shot on the Omata block. It

was to avenge these that the volunteers and militia turned out, when

the men of H.M.S. _Niger_ behaved so splendidly; the volunteers also

held their own."

 

"Is there any further demonstration?"

 

"Yes; a great _hui_, or meeting, has been held at Ngarua-wahia, on the

Waikato. They say that three thousand Maoris were present, who were all

on the side of Te Rangitake. Fifty of his tribe were there, asking for

help."

 

"And what was the outcome of it all?"

 

"They were agreed in one thing--that the Governor was too hasty in

fighting before it was proved to whom the land really belonged. The

killing of men at the Omata block naturally followed when once--as by

destroying the pah at Waitara--war had begun."

 

"What became of Te Rangitake's fifty men?"