"War to the Knife;" or, Tangata Maori by Rolf Boldrewood (top 10 novels of all time .txt) 📖

the word pakeha strongly accented, from which he gathered that his appearance and movements had aroused curiosity, perhaps suspicion.

After a while he observed a small party or group of mixed sexes, which, breaking up, moved in the direction of his abode. As they came closer, he observed the guide walking among them. Coming to the front, as he advanced to meet them, he inquired of him what it meant.

"They want you to go tomorrow and see the famous lakes and terraces. I told them you were in a hurry, and must go back to the Governor at Auckland." Upon this, the leaders of the party, among whom were several young girls, raised a cry of dissent, making angry gestures and sportively threatening the guide, while they pointed towards the east, intimating that the proposed expedition was kapai ("very good").

By the time the explanation had reached that stage, Roland found himself encircled by these dusky maidens, who, with flashing eyes, animated gestures, and caressing tones, sought to make the pakeha rangatira understand that the arrangement would be much to his advantage.

The guide spoke to them in the native tongue, extolling the importance and wealth of his patron, and rather deprecating the expedition, as inconsistent with the responsible duties which were his peculiar province. However, such was the persistency with which they urged their argument, that, after asking [Pg 112] for a literal translation of the several inducements held out, Roland pretended to waver.

"How long will it take," he inquired of his guide, "to go and return?"

"Not more than two or three weeks," he returned answer.

"And are the natives much the same as these?"

"No great difference, except that they are more expert in getting money out of travellers."

"Will any of these young people go with us?"

"Oh yes, if you ask them, and give them a small keepsake, or something in the way of pay, for their services."

"Then, I think I will——"

How the pakeha was about to end this speech may never be accurately known, for at that moment a loud cry of "Erena, Erena!" arose from the rear, and a girl, differing in several important respects from the young women around him, moved quietly through the crowd and stood among the foremost speakers.

Roland at once recognized in the new-comer a personality altogether different from any which he had previously encountered in New Zealand. It was not alone that she was fairer than her dusky sisters; such complexions had he seen before, due to the intermixture of the races, by no means uncommon in the coast towns. Many of the young people of that blood were distinctly handsome in face and striking in figure. But there was something regal and statuesque in the bearing of this damsel which he had scarcely realized as of possibility in a Maori tribe.

Her dress consisted of a more ornate and elaborate upper garment than the ordinary flax mat, or puriri, [Pg 113] worn by the other women of the tribe. Later on, Massinger learned to know it as a kaitaka, or shawl, made of the finest flax, laboriously prepared, till it almost resembled silk in texture and appearance; a portion of it was dyed black, and worked in small diamond-shaped patterns, surmounted by long white fringes.

It might almost have been woven in a loom, such was the precision with which the fine twisted flax threads crossed each other at intervals. The making of such a garment, chiefly worn by women of rank or distinction, required both skill and patience; a whole winter was not considered an unreasonable time to devote to its manufacture. Gracefully draped over one rounded shoulder, it fell in folds over a striped woollen undergarment reaching below the knees, permitting the free, graceful, and unstudied movements so characteristic of the untrammelled races of the earth.

As this girl walked slowly forward, the Englishman thought she might have stood for a sculptor's model of a woodland nymph, as yet unconscious of the admiring glances of Phɶbus Apollo.

"Who is this young woman?" said Roland to the guide. "What is her name, and how does she come to be with the natives?"

"Her name is Erena Mannering," said he. "She belongs to the tribe, though she is a half-caste. Her father was a sea-captain, and her mother a chief's daughter. I have told her about you, and she wishes to speak."

"But I cannot talk Maori. You will have to interpret what she says and what I say."

[Pg 114]

The guide smiled. "She can speak English as well as we can. She was educated at a college in Wanganui, endowed for the teaching of Maoris and half-castes."

Thus emboldened, Roland advanced, and begged to be favoured with her advice as to his making the journey to Rotomahana.

"I hear," he said, "that there are difficulties in the way. My good friend Warwick thinks that if the country is not in a disturbed state now, it soon may be, in which case there might be risks. They tell me, however, that it is a charming place, and well worth a trial."

"It is the most beautiful place I ever saw or dreamed of," answered the strange maiden, in a low rich voice, and with perfect intonation. "For the danger, I cannot speak. There may be, if war breaks out; but Maoris do not kill white strangers unless they have a motive. Do you care very much to go?"

The expedition was now, in Roland's chivalrous mind, rapidly assuming the form of an adventure. War, danger, and a belle sauvage! He thought of "The Burial of Atala" which he had seen in the gallery of the Louvre, and answered with decision—

"Always with your permission, I have made up my mind to see Rotomahana or die."

The girl smiled, as she looked fixedly at the white stranger with half-compassionate eyes.

"You are like all your countrymen. Only say there is a chance of being killed, and you cannot stop them. I will speak to the chief. He may write you a pass, and then none can harm you."

Whereupon she glided forward, and, threading [Pg 115] the group, stood before the chief, with whom she conversed earnestly for some minutes, after which she reappeared.

"The chief says that you must go at your own peril. There might be danger if war is declared. But he does not think you will be interfered with. He will send people with you."

"Wonders will never cease," thought Roland. "Fancy this majestic chief writing a note, 'Please don't eat the bearer till I come,' or something to that effect!" But he only said that he was astonished at his kindness, and would gratefully accept his written passport.

"I dare say you are surprised at a Maori chief writing at all; but Waka Nene is a baptized Christian. He was converted by one of the early missionaries, and taught to read and write. He has been a firm friend of the English ever since. He fought for them in Honii Heke's war, and will fight for them in this one, if your people are foolish enough to bring it on."

"My eyes are being opened; by-and-by I shall be enlightened as to Maori matters. At present I know little. But my friends in England will never believe me if I tell them of a Maori chief writing notes, and a Maori young lady talking excellent English."

"I am not a young lady—I am only a half-caste Maori girl; but I can help your people now and then. Is there anything else that I can do for you?"

"There is one thing more which would add so much to my pleasure in this journey," said Roland, emboldened by the strange, unreal aspect of all things—the flowing river, murmuring in the stillness of the [Pg 116] night; the savage people in groups, lying or standing around; the dramatic scene with this half-wild maiden, with flashing eyes and mobile face, a figure like the huntress Diana, and a rich low-toned voice that was like the murmur of a love-song. "There is one thing which would make the journey perfect."

"What is that?" asked the damsel, looking him full in the face with the clear unabashed eyes of youth and innocence.

"That you would accompany us."

He felt, as he uttered the words, that he had presumed too far on such a slight acquaintance, and that she might resent the proposal.

Much to his relief, however, she smiled like a pleased child, and looking at him with much earnestness, said—

"Would you really like me to go?"

"Like you to go! Why, I should be charmed. Think of the advantage to me of a companion familiar with all the points of the landscape, as well as every legend and historic locality. But it is too great a favour to ask."

The girl's eyes glowed, as with animated countenance Roland proceeded to detail the amazing benefits of this arrangement. But, true to her sex, she appeared to hesitate, and finally said she must consult the chief; if he offered no objection, they would start early on the following morning.

Nothing could be more promising or more in accordance with Roland's feelings. His guide, who had contented himself with putting in a word or two now and then, had a short conversation in Maori with the new-found goddess. Then bidding him good-night, [Pg 117] she passed on with swift steps towards the group of elders, where the chief still stood. There she apparently entered upon the affair of the expedition, for question and answer were quickly interchanged, and the earnest tones of the speakers—several of the surrounding elders having joined in—showed that the question was being fully debated. Lastly, at a few sentences uttered by the youngest man of the party, she laughingly shook her hand threateningly at him, and ran lightly back to the part of the kainga from which she had first emerged.

"It is all right," said Warwick; "the chief has consented. Erena will go with us tomorrow. She is better than any man on a journey, and knows every step of the way. We had better make an early start."

This Mr. Massinger had every inclination to do; so, after smoking a couple of pipes in front of their temporary castle, producing tobacco, and distributing largesse of the same in free fashion, which conduced to his instant popularity, he lay down in his whare enveloped in rugs and coverings, where the rippling river lulled him into sleep so sound that the chatter of the village gossips, and even the baying of the dogs, which occasionally broke into chorus, had no power to disturb it.

[Pg 118]