"War to the Knife;" or, Tangata Maori by Rolf Boldrewood (100 best novels of all time TXT) 📕

never again have 'so fair a spirit to be my minister.' A region of marvels [Pg 177] and magic, a tribe of simple children of nature, ready to do my bidding! In this life of ours, so sad and mysterious at times, such conditions cannot last; why, then, should not one frankly accept a fragment of Arcadia?"

He lost no time in communicating his change of plan to Erena, whose features wore so radiant a smile at the announcement that he saw in it the fullest confirmation of the wisdom of his decision.

"I am so glad," she said, "that you are going to honour my country, my tribe, by your last visit among them. I was born here, have swum and paddled in the lake since I could walk; and though my father changed our abode to Hokianga, and dwelt there latterly, I have always loved Rotorua best in my heart."

For the next few days they roamed over the lakes and woods, the hills and dales, of this enchanted ground in unfettered companionship and joyous converse. They went in a canoe to Hinemoa's Isle, rowed by two Maori girls, and beheld the bath which bears her name to this day. They saw the beach on which stood the doomed Arawas, confident in the power of their hitherto inviolate wave. Here had they fallen; here had the cannibal feast, with all its horrid accompaniments, been held; here, where the grass grew thick and wild flowers waved to the very margin of the peaceful lake, had assailants and defenders waded in blood amid the dead and the dying.

And yet now how calm, how peaceful, was the historic water, how tranquil were all things, how happily flowed on the village life! Who could have believed that such horrors were transacted in this fairy [Pg 178] isle, where now the voices of children at play, the crooning, low-voiced song of the girls, as they plaited the flax mats or made with deft fingers the neat provision-baskets, were the only sounds that met the ear?

Together they climbed the rocky summit of the island, and viewed the strangely compounded landscape, heard the dire sounds as of groans and murmurings of imprisoned fire-spirits, while from time to time an impatient geyser in the haunted valley of Whakarewarewa would fling itself in cloud and steam heavenwards with wildest fury.

Together they stood before the curious stone image, sacred under penalty of awful doom in the minds of the simple people, as having been brought in an ancestral canoe from the half-mythical Hawaiki in the dim traditionary exodus of the race. Together they forced their canoes up the glittering channel of Hamurama, and held their hands in the ice-cold fountain at its source, where it flows bubbling out of the breast of the fern-clad hill.

The moon was slowly rising over the dark range of Matawhaura as they left the further shore to return to Ohinemutu. The air was delicious, the lake a mirrored water-plain, across which the moonbeams showed silver-gleaming pathways, as if leading to other happy isles. The paddles of the Maori girls dipped softly into the placid water as the canoe stole silently across the lake's broad bosom.

"On such a night as this," said Massinger, "it would be most appropriate for you to tell, and for me to listen to, the legend of Hinemoa."

"It is a silly tale at best," answered Erena, with [Pg 179] a tone half of sadness, half of playfulness, in her voice—"a tale of woman's love and man's fidelity. They had better fortune in those old days."

"And, of course, nowadays," said Massinger, "there can be almost no love and less fidelity."

"The pakeha is wrong," said one of the girls, as they rested on their paddles, evidently anxious not to miss Erena's version of the legend (like that of Antar among the Arabs), ever new and deepening in interest with every generation—"the pakeha is wrong; girls' love is just the same as ever it was. It is always fresh, like the foliage of the pohutu kawa, with its beautiful red flowers. It does not fade and fall off, like the leaves of the trees the pakeha brought to the land."

"Hush, Torea!" said Erena; "you must not talk so to this pakeha. He is a great rangatira. And besides, you cannot know."

"Do I not?" answered the forest maiden. "If he is a rangatira, he will know too. But are you going to tell us the Taihia?"

"To stop your mouth, perhaps I had better; so I will begin. You must know that there was a young chief called Tutanekai, who resided with his family on this island of Mokoia. He was handsome and brave, but because of certain circumstances, and being a younger son, he was neither of high rank nor consideration in his tribe. He was, however, gifted in various ways, which made the young women of the tribe look favourably upon him. He was fond of music. On account of this, he and his friend Tiki constructed a stage or balcony on the slope of the hill there, which he called Kaiweka. There they used [Pg 180] to sit in the evenings, while Tutanekai played on a trumpet and his friend upon a flute, the soft notes of which were wafted across the lake to the village of O-whata, where dwelt Hinemoa.

"Now, Hinemoa was the most beautiful maiden in the tribe, and her reputation had travelled far. All the young men had paid court to her, but could get no mark or sign of favour. Among her admirers was Tutanekai, but he was not certain of his feelings being returned, and had not dared to pay her attention openly. So he used, lover-like, to breathe his woes into his melodious instrument; and night after night, as he and his friend sat on their balcony, the tender melancholy notes of the lover's trumpet floated over the lake, and were audible amid the sighs of the evening breeze and the plashing of the waves on the shore.

"After many moons, and when the summer was advanced, he found means to send a message to her by a woman of her hapu, to whom Hinemoa answered, 'Have we both, then, had such thoughts of each other?' And from that time she began to think daily of the love which had sprung up in her heart for Tutanekai, and to wander about by herself, and refuse food and company, after the manner of lovesick maidens. All her friends and relations began to say, 'What has happened to Hinemoa—she who was formerly so gay?' They also noticed that Tutanekai shunned the company of the young men, save only of his heart's brother, Tiki. Her feelings at length became so uncontrollable, that if there had been a canoe she would have paddled over to the point where her lover's trumpet, like the voice of the sea Atua [Pg 181] which none may disobey and live, seemed to draw her very heartstrings towards his abode on Mokoia. But her friends, thinking of this, had secured all the canoes.

"So it happened that on one warm night, when the moon was nearly full, she resolved in her heart what to do. She tied together six empty gourds to float around her, lest she might become faint before she reached the island, and softly slid into the lake near this very point, Wai-rerekai, which we are now approaching, and as often as she felt tired she floated with the help of the gourds. At last, when nearly exhausted, she reached the rock near the warm spring, which is still known by her name. Here she bathed and rested, also warmed herself, as she was trembling all over, partly from cold, and partly at the thought of meeting Tutanekai.

"While the maiden was thus warming herself in the hot spring, Tutanekai felt thirsty, and sent a slave to bring him water. So this slave went to the lake close to where Hinemoa was, and dipped in a calabash. The maiden, being frightened, called out to him in a gruff voice like a man's, 'Who is that water for?' He replied, 'It is for Tutanekai.' 'Give it to me, then,' said Hinemoa. Having finished drinking, she purposely threw down the calabash and broke it. The slave went back, and told Tutanekai that a man in the bath had broken it. This occurred more than once. Then Tutanekai in a rage went down to the bath, and searching about, caught hold of a hand. 'Who is this?' said he. 'It is I, Hinemoa.' So they were married, and lived happily," said Erena, concluding rather abruptly. "Oh, the next trouble [Pg 182] which occurred was that Tiki, the friend of Tutanekai's heart, grew ill and like to die because he had no wife, after being deprived of his friend and heart's brother. However, he was consoled with the hand of Tupe, the young sister of Tutanekai, and all was joy and peace."

At this happy ending the two Maori girls clapped their hands and shouted, "Kapai, Kapai!" till the lake-shore echoed again. Then dashing in their paddles, they rowed with such power and pace that they were soon landed at the legendary point of rock whence Hinemoa, love-guided, tempted the night, the darkness, and the unknown deeps.

The allotted days passed all too quickly. They had wandered through the forest aisles and silent over-arching glades of Tikitapu; had stood on the saffron-hued flooring of Sulphur Point; had revelled in the life-renewing waters of the "Rachel" and the "Priest's" hot springs, whence all who bathe in faith issue cured of earthly ailments. The Oil Bath, the Blue Bath, the Spout Bath were successively tested, until, as it seemed to Massinger, he had acquired a new skin, almost a new soul and body, so exalted seemed every motion of sense and spirit.

At Whakarewarewa the great Pohutu Geyser, with its eruptive column of steam and water, nearly eighty feet in height, had been visited; also the grim and terrible Brain Pot, unknowing of the tragedy of which it was to be the scene, concluding with the dread and noisome Dantean valley redolent of the sights and sounds of the Inferno, even Tikitere.

But one more day remained, and the trio were [Pg 183] engaged in debate as to the manner in which it should be spent, so as to compress the greatest possible enjoyment into the "grudging hours," when a party of natives was observed to come through the fern-covered flat between Whakarewarewa and the lake, and at once proceed to the carved house. Here a number of the tribe, including the chief and certain elders, at once assembled.

"News of importance," said Warwick. "Something is in the wind; I must go over and see."

There was no doubting the fact that highly important intelligence had been received. The whole tribe was astir, and buzzing like a swarm of angry bees. When Warwick returned his face was grave and anxious.

"As I feared," he said. "The Governor has been obstinate in the wrong place; he would not give way in the case of the Waitara block. Blood has been shed. The Waikato tribes are massing their men, and threaten to attack Taranaki. War is declared. Outlying settlers have been killed. There is no going back now."

"This looks serious indeed," said Massinger, not, however, without a certain alertness of manner which showed that the romance of war was uppermost in his mind. "What is to be done? or where must we go?"

"It has come at last; I was certain that it would," said Erena. "What a terrible thing it is that men should be so foolish, so selfish! But we must do something, and not talk about it. I am for making across to Hokianga, and must go and prepare at once."

[Pg 184]

"Her idea is a good one," said Warwick, as the girl ran down to her end of the camp and called up her women. "We can get over to Horaki and go down the river by boat. The neighbourhood will be quiet as yet. We can trust the Ngapuhi, with Waka Nene to keep them steady, to be loyal to England. He never wavered in Heke's war, and is not likely to do so now. We must take leave of this chief, and get away without loss of time. But who comes now—with a following, too? This looks like a taua."

Here a fresh excitement arose, while shouts of "Haere mai!" and other words of welcome, more strongly emphasized than usual, denoted the arrival of a personage of importance. A comparatively large body of men, well armed, and superior to the ordinary natives of the district in height and warlike appearance, had come in sight. They marched regularly, and as they came up, all carrying muskets and cartridge-pouches, they presented a highly effective and martial appearance. Their leader was a white man.

At this moment Erena, who had been busied with her female attendants, reappeared. The moment she caught sight of the contingent she uttered a cry of joy, and, turning to Massinger, said—

"This is indeed most fortunate. We shall have no more trouble about routes. Yonder is my father. Let us go to meet him."

As she spoke Massinger noticed that the leader of the party, after a few words of greeting to