War to the Knife 55

War to the Knife 55

After their departure, the household engaged in prayer. When Cyril

Summers addressed the Almighty Disposer of events in earnest

supplication that His servants might be spared the last terrible

penalties of savage warfare, it cannot be doubted that each hearer's

inmost heart responded most fervently to the appeal. Mrs. Summers wept

as, with her hand in her husband's, she echoed his cry for deliverance,

and rising from her knees with streaming eyes, threw her arms around

Hypatia's neck.

 

"We have brought you into these horrors," she said. "Oh, why did I ever

encourage you to come to this fatal shore?"

 

From Hypatia's eyes there fell no tears. An intense and glowing lustre

seemed to burn in her deep blue eyes, as she gazed into the distance,

as one who sees what is hid from ordinary mortals. One could fancy

her a virgin martyr in the days of Nero, receiving her summons to the

arena. Unquestioning faith, dauntless courage, and an almost divine

pity, made radiant her countenance as she looked on Mary Summers and

her sleeping children.

 

"I am not afraid of what man can do to us," she said softly. "The God

whom we serve has power to deliver us in this dread hour. Did not

Erena say that a body of the Ngapuhi men were marching on the track

of the Hau-Hau band? 'Oh, rest in the Lord, and He will give thee thy

heart's desire.' As her sweet voice rose, and the beautiful words of

Mendelssohn's immortal work resounded through the room, a ray of hope

illumined the forlorn household, as with a final hand-clasp all retired

to their couches, though not to sleep."

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XVI

 

 

The hour before dawn, when "deep sleep falls upon men," found the whole

household wrapped in that slumber which was the natural outcome of an

anxious and exciting day. But the quick loud bark of an angry dog,

subsiding into a sustained suspicious growl, and joined to a woman's

scream from the camp of their native adherents, told Cyril Summers that

the enemy was at hand. A confused murmur of voices, the trampling of

feet, with the ordinary indefinable accompaniments of a body of men,

aroused the sleepers with startling suddenness.

 

Mrs. Summers and Hypatia, like women on a sinking ship, displayed

unwonted courage. Dressing themselves and the wondering children in

haste, they joined Mr. Summers in the living-room of the cottage at

the same moment that it was filled by an excited crowd of the wildest

natives which any of the party had ever seen.

 

The leader, a ferocious-looking Maori, whom Mr. Summers had no

difficulty in recognizing as Kereopa, advanced with threatening air

towards him; but, seeing that the missionary had no weapon, nor

apparently the wish or means to defend himself, he halted abruptly.

Behind him stood a crowd of natives, the greater part of whom had

advanced into the room, while others could be seen through the open

door between the cottage and the outbuildings. Looking more closely in

order to discover if by chance there were among them any of his former

servants, Mr. Summers saw, to his horror and disgust, a white man.

This renegade, dead to every feeling of manhood, a deserter from his

regiment, was one of those abandoned wretches to be found in all new

countries, who, associating with savages, encourage them in outrage and

rapine. Outcasts from their race, aware that a speedy death by bullet

or halter awaits them on capture, they have always been noted as the

most remorseless foes of their own people.

 

Feeling, however, that by interrogating the man he might procure more

accurate information than from the dangerously excited chief and his

followers, he addressed him.

 

"What is the meaning of this intrusion at this hour? Ask Kereopa if he

has not made some mistake."

 

The renegade, apparently pleased at being civilly addressed, translated

the question, and repeated it to the chief, who in a loud and

threatening voice replied--

 

"Tell the Mikonaree that I, a prophet of the Pai Marire, have received

authority from the angel Gabriel to kill or take into captivity all the

pakehas, with their wives and daughters, as did the Israelites with the

Amalekites."

 

"Have I ever done you harm? Have I not taught your people to grow the

bread-grain, the potato, the vegetables on which they grow strong and

healthy?"

 

"What have you done--what have the white men done?" shouted the

wild-eyed chief, now working himself into an insane fury. "You have

taught us your prayers and stolen our lands. You have given us the

grain and taken the fields. Where are our brothers, our sons, our

chiefs? Slain by your soldiers, after robbing them of their lands--even

Waitara and Tataraimaka. They are cold in the ground on which they

planted and feasted, but which now only serves them for graves."

 

"Surely you would not kill people with no arms in their hands. Which of

our missionaries has ever fired a gun even in defence of his life?"

 

"The priests of your people do not fight, but they act as spies; they

have betrayed our plans to the pakeha general. They will all be killed,

like Volkner, to show the world that we shall have no spies, no false

prophets, no priests of Baal, amongst us. Prepare to die, even as

Volkner died, whose head, with that of the pakeha Boyd, is with us. Let

their hands be tied."

 

At once several eager warriors sprang forward, by whom the women and

the missionary were seized. Their hands were bound behind them with

strips of the native flax, which effectively rendered them helpless

captives.

 

"You will die when the sun goes down," he said, indicating Cyril

Summers. "Call on your God to help you. The rope is ready, and the tree

on which you will hang, as did Volkner. But all are not here. Where is

the wounded pakeha, and the Ngapuhi girl Erena?"

 

"They have gone; they went yesterday."

 

"Which path was theirs? If you deceive me, great suffering will be

yours before you die."

 

"They went into the forest; that is all I can say. The God in whom I

trust will save me from cruelty at your hands."

 

A native at this time said some words in the Maori tongue which seemed

for the time to allay the wrath of the raging wild beast into which

Kereopa was transformed.

 

"It is well. Their tracks will be found; Ngarara is a keen hunter

when the prey is near. He is pursuing the Ngapuhi girl Erena, whose

heart the pakeha soldier has stolen from him. He will cut _his_ heart

out of his breast and eat it before her eyes. I will give her to him

for a slave. All the pakeha women shall be slaves to the men of the

Pai Marire when the day of deliverance shall come. _Hau-Hau, Hau-Hau,

Hau-Hau!_"

 

Here the countenance of the half-insane savage became changed into

the likeness of a ferocious beast, as he yelled out the war-cry of

the sect, which was immediately caught up and re-echoed, dog-like, by

every individual in the maniacal crowd. With eyes almost reversed in

their sockets, with tongue protruding, with the foam flying from his

lips, and every human feature lost in the bestial transformation, he

resembled less a human being than a monstrous demon from the lowest pit

of Acheron.

 

Mrs. Summers fainted, the children screamed piteously, and Cyril made

one step forward, as if, even with his fettered hands, he essayed to

do battle with the destroying fiend. He was immediately seized by two

powerful natives, who had been standing near him, and forced back to

his former position. Realizing his utter helplessness, he groaned

aloud as he saw Hypatia bending over his wife's drooping form, while

she adjured her to preserve her presence of mind for the sake of the

terrified children and her unhappy husband.

 

"We shall need all our strength to carry us through this ordeal," she

said. "We need it for prayer and faith, which, even in this dark hour,

will save us."

 

As she spoke, the brave spirit of the devoted wife and mother recalled

her to life and consciousness. She gazed on the strange surroundings of

their once peaceful home, and after giving vent to her emotions in one

wild burst of tears, resumed her efforts at composure.

 

Fortunately for the overwrought feelings of the captives, a diversion

at this critical moment was effected through an unusual noise beginning

among the natives clustered beyond and around the open door. A cry,

whether of warning or triumph, came from the forest path; gradually it

swelled into greater distinctness, until it resolved itself into the

well-known shout of triumph which proclaimed the capture of an enemy

of note. It was then seen, by the full dawn light now breaking through

the masses of gloom, to proceed from a body of men emerging from the

forest. The leaders of the party were dancing and singing with an

exuberance which betokened victory and triumph. When the whole body

debouched from the wood, it was seen to have in its midst a litter

borne by four men, beside whom walked a girl with haughty and defiant

mien. She looked more like a barbaric queen than a captive taken in

war, as her fettered wrists showed her to be. Her attendants had been

similarly treated, with the exception of the bearers, who were so

closely surrounded that their escape had been considered improbable.

By the time they had reached the open space behind the cottage, the

whole party, including Kereopa, had quitted the room, and joined in the

tremendous volume of triumphant yells and cries which rent the air.

 

"Let the pakeha wahine come forth and look upon their friends," said

Kereopa, with devilish malice. "They will see how the prophets of the

Pai Marire obey the message of the angels, how the sword of the Lord

and Gideon is made sharp for the evil-doer, and how the convert from

the Ngapuhi is rewarded in the hour of victory."

 

Fearful of further violence, Cyril Summers had partially supported

his wife, followed by the shuddering children, to the porch, around

which in happier days he had pleased himself with training a clematis.

Hypatia stepped forward with wide eyes, as expectant of instant

tragedy. Almost unheeding of her own danger, and the fearful position

in which all were placed, she could not repress her interest in

Massinger, as with almost equal eagerness she looked at Erena. He

lay back on the rude pillow which had been placed below his head,

deathly pale, and only exhibiting consciousness through his heaving

breast and the movements of his eyes. But when she turned her gaze

upon the dauntless form of Erena Mannering, all womanly jealousy was

obliterated by the glow of admiration which the girl's regal bearing

and fearless spirit evoked in her. She moved among the fierce crowd of

half-doubtful, half-bloodthirsty Hau-Haus with the air of a princess

among pariahs. Upon those who pressed closely to her side she from time

to time bestowed a glance of scorn and menace, accompanied by a few

words in their own tongue, from which they shrank as from a missile.

Her eyes blazed as they were turned upon Kereopa, who with sneering

smile approached her, pointing to the half-inanimate form of Massinger.

 

"The pakeha is sick; the pakeha is tired," he said with affected

regret. "It is wrong that he was carried so far. His wound must be

unhealed. The Pai Marire grieve. _He will not stand the fire well_,

tomorrow. There will be a _haka_ too, in honour of Ngarara's marriage, which he must first witness."