Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. "War to the Knife;" or, Tangata Maori by Rolf Boldrewood (top 10 novels of all time .txt) 📖
- Author: Rolf Boldrewood
Book online «"War to the Knife;" or, Tangata Maori by Rolf Boldrewood (top 10 novels of all time .txt) 📖». Author Rolf Boldrewood
Their pathway was narrow, chiefly bordered by high ferns, various kinds of low-growing bushes, and when the forest was reached, occasionally blocked by fallen timber, which necessitated a considerable detour, not always accomplished without difficulty, and obstacles which seemed to multiply the fatigues of the journey. Still, the wondrous beauty of the primeval forest had fully repaid him for all difficulties which nature placed in their way. Hundreds [Pg 103] of feet overhead, almost hiding the rays of the autumnal sun, and causing Massinger to throw back his head to gaze at their lofty coronets of foliage, rose the royal ranks of the Kauri, the Totara, the Rimu, and the Kahikatea. Unlike the less o'er-shadowed forests in Australia described in his premigratory course of reading, there was but little herbage to be seen between the giants of that unconquered woodland. Ferns, trailers, thorn bushes, often breast-high, more or less aggressive, climbers and parasites, filled up all space beneath the columnar trunks which stretched so far and wide.
It could easily be imagined how great an advantage the native warrior, but little encumbered with clothes, and active as the panther, had over the heavily armed, heavily clothed soldier of the regular forces. A fair, though not accurate shot at short range, practically almost invisible, the native is trained to take advantage of every description of covert. What chance, then, Massinger thought, would British regulars have against the guerilla tactics of this stubborn, fearless, yet crafty race?
As happened to many a gallant British soldier in the American revolutionary war, it might be a brave man's lot to be shot by a boy of fourteen, safely bestowed behind a fallen tree, or protected by a thicket whence he could empty his rifle at the fully exposed ranks of the pakeha. Though active, and fond of strong exercise of all kinds, Massinger was by no means sorry when his guide halted by the side of a gurgling stream, and intimated that they would here halt for refreshment. Rows of that magnificent fern, Dicksonia, fully thirty feet in height, towered [Pg 104] over the banks of the rushing streamlet; a level patch of verdure near the bank provided a tempting lounge, as well as a table on which to arrange their humble meal. There reclining, the wayfarer from a far land reflected approvingly on the first stages of a journey which already promised a world of novel and mysterious experiences. And now a new experience awaited him.
Rested and refreshed, they moved on till towards evening, when Warwick, after following the path which led to the brow of a steep hill, stopped and invited his companion to look around. Far in the distance loomed the curved shoulder of a snow-crowned mountain. The ocean again rose to view. A winding river threaded the fields and pastures of a broad meadow. Tiny columns of smoke ascended from a collection of reed-constructed cabins. And with a distinct relaxation of feature, the guide pronounced the word Kainga—"Here is our stage for the night."
It was, indeed, a native village, or more strictly speaking, a "township." For there were, besides a considerable population, distinctive and representative features which in ancient Britain would have entitled it to the appellation of a castrum—witness Doncaster, Colchester, Winchester, and the like.
Above the alluvial flat, on the scarped and terraced hill, rose the pah, or fortress proper—now in good working, that is, warlike order.
"Why, it's a castle!" exclaimed Massinger. "I had no idea that the natives did things in this style. I doubt whether the ancient Britons had one like this to check the Roman advance. Certainly they had [Pg 105] no rifle-pits. Fancy climbing up these precipices to find a double line of desperate warriors at the top!"
"All the same, it was taken once, after a fairly long siege; and a fine, bloodthirsty affair it was, by all accounts," said Warwick. "But the garrison had been weakened."
"In what way?"
"The water gave out; food was short also. That they could have borne, but they had nothing to drink for days before they gave in."
"This great fortress, for such it was" (wrote an eye-witness), "was constructed by this singular people with due attention to the canons of strategic fortification. It stood on a peak two thousand feet high, on the summit of a tortuous forest range, girt on each side by precipitous gorges and rugged intervening eminences.
"Triple lines of palisading guarded the front, while the crest of the ridge was narrowed in wedge-like form to the rear of the pah. The outer parapet, seven feet high, extended on each side to the edge of the range, but was formed with angles near its junction with the cliff, in order to cover completely an attacking party. The inner parapet, more than twelve feet high, was guarded by sandbag loopholes to enable the garrison to fire in safety. Covered ways, from parapet to parapet, and pit to pit, protected the garrison in their movements."
This was one of the sights which he had "come out into the wilderness for to see"—specially and in spite of its being a tolerably large and important hapu, or section of the great Ngatiawa tribe, with [Pg 106] whom relations were certainly strained. His adventurous soul was stirred within him, as he marked the position of the wharepuni, or council-hall, imposing in size and ornamentation, elaborate though rude; the clustering whares or wigwams, each containing the family unit complete; with men, women, and children, dogs and ponies, straying about in careless intermixture; the warriors of the tribe holding aloof in haughty independence, the "grave and reverend seigneurs" sitting in a circle, indulging in converse—doubtless as to matters of state. It became increasingly apparent to his mind that the affairs of such a race deserved all the consideration which the most experienced, just, and intelligent legislators could bestow.
As they approached, the stranger could observe that a certain degree of excitement had already commenced to make itself visible. The men who had been sitting arose, and those who were already standing, relinquished their attitudes of dignified ease for those of watchful attention, not unmingled with suspicion. The women left their work or play (for among the younger ones several games of skill or address were evidently in progress) and joined the expectant crowd.
Male and female, young and old, there could hardly have been less than three hundred people gathered together on the comparatively small plateau. From their point of view it had exceptional advantages, and had doubtless been selected with foresight and judgment. Overlooking the river, winding through a fertile meadow, which showed by its careful and intense cultivation how the principal food-supply of the tribe was furnished, it was protected by the almost [Pg 107] perpendicular river-bank, of great height, from sudden assault. An undulating stretch of open or timbered country filled in the foreground, while in the dim distance rose the giant form of Tongariro, cloud-capped, menacing, in dread majesty and sublimity, and but a few miles to the eastward, calm in the fading light, lay the placid waters of a lake. Strangely beautiful as was the whole landscape, wanting no element which in other lands excites wonder or arouses admiration, there was yet a feeling of undefined doubt, amounting to suspicion of evil, as his eye roved over the unfamiliar scene. This was confirmed, even deepened, as a geyser between them and the lake suddenly shot to a height of fifty or sixty feet in the air, while a hitherto unsuspected fumarole sent its smoke-columns towards the firmament. Yet not a head was turned, not a movement made by the group, "native and to the manner born." Geysers and fumaroles were part of their daily life, it would appear.
"There may be differences of opinion as to the advantages of their proximity," thought the white stranger, as he scanned the grand and majestic features of the wide landscape before him, "but none can deny their sublimity." He could scarce refrain from exclaiming aloud—
If he had carried out the unspoken thought he would have raised himself in the estimation of his newly found acquaintances, as no nation has had a higher appreciation of elocutionary effort; and a free translation by his guide would have doubtless confirmed [Pg 108] the entente cordiale. As it was, however, the few sentences uttered by his companion, in which, among others, he recognized the words Pakeha, Rangatira, and Mata Kawana, were sufficiently satisfactory. This was, of course, after the formal greeting of "Haere mai!" had been pronounced by the elders and principal personages of the assembly, as well as by all the women, and the rank and file.
A venerable and imposing-looking personage, apparently of great age, approached to greet the strangers, and, after exchanging a few sentences of an interrogatory nature, pointed the way to an unoccupied whare of larger dimensions than the others. In this, Mr. Massinger was told, through the interpreter, to place his possessions, and to consider himself at home for the present. An adjoining tenement was indicated, in a less formal way, as provided for his companion, the difference of their positions being accurately understood. Indeed, the socialists of the day would be rather scandalized at the gulf which separates the Maori aristocrat, or rangatira, from the "common people" (if one may use such an expression) of the tribe.
The rangatira was, indeed, a personage of no ordinary distinction. Served from his childhood by his "inferiors," in the most true and literal sense of the word; waited upon with deference, mingled with apprehension, by the women, the slaves and the rank and file of the tribal section, or hapu, to which he was born, no wonder that he grew up with the traditional qualities imputed to the medi�val aristocrat.
He was the robber-baron of the Rhine; he was the untrammelled seigneur of the time of Louis [Pg 109] Quatorze; he was the piratical Viking of the Norse legends.
He raided his weaker neighbours; he descended upon defenceless coast settlements; he organized carefully thought-out plans of invasion, alliance, or reprisal. He was comprehensively merciless in war, slaying and enslaving at will. But he possessed, by the strongest contemporary evidence, the corresponding virtues. He was brave to recklessness, chivalrous to a degree unknown in modern warfare, sending notice of attack, in ordinary cases, before the commencement of hostilities; and, in well-authenticated instances, even forwarding ammunition to the enemy who had run short of powder, invariably choosing death before dishonour. And he was religious after his own fashion, recognizing superior as well as inferior deities and supernatural personages, whom it was important to honour and conciliate. He was at all times ready to die for his principles, or in vindication of his dignity and hereditary position.
Roland Massinger, when he found himself in full possession of the whare, which had been floored with clean fern, and even adorned with several bunches of the beautiful crimson rata and pohutukawa blossoms, began to revolve the strange chain of circumstances which had led to his finding himself the honoured guest of this sub-section of a more or less ferocious tribe. Nothing imaginable could be more romantic; at the same time, the situation was, at the best, only comparatively satisfactory. The smouldering blood-feud between the races, already dangerously fanned by the mistaken action already referred to, might blaze up at any moment. Then, the war-spirit once [Pg 110] aroused, and the boding scream of the Hokioi thrilling all hearts, the position of an isolated European would be doubtful, if not desperate.
Of the risks and chances thus involved, however, our adventurer made but little account. He had not come so far to abstain from exploration of this wonderful country. It was not worse than Africa, whence many an Englishman had returned rich and distinguished. Whatever happened, he was embarked in the enterprise; would go through with it at all hazards.
With the addition of a small contribution from his store of provisions to the kumera, pork and potatoes, together with a great dish of peppis, or cockles, supplied in clean flat baskets, he made a satisfactory meal, concluding, of course, with a pannikin of tea. He had arranged his rug and blankets at one side of his rude chamber, and, being reasonably tired with the day's journey, looked forward to a night's rest of a superior description.
He walked a few steps from the door, and, lighting his pipe, gazed upon the scene before him. The moon, nearly full, lighted up the river, the meadow, the distant mountain, the dark-hued forest. No civilized habitation was visible. No sound broke the stillness of the night, save the murmuring voices of the dwellers in this strange settlement of primitive humanity. Habitudes common to all societies, rude or civilized, were not wanting. Women talked and laughed, children prattled or lamented, as the case might be. There was the narrator of events, the wandering minstrel, the troubadour or "jongleur" of this later Arcadia, with his circle of interested listeners. The boys and [Pg 111] girls played at games, or walked in friendly converse, much as those of their age do in all countries. The men were grave or gay, earnest or indifferent, as elsewhere. Occasionally he caught
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