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

mercy when Kereopa was ready to commence the torture? It is not fitting for thee to die the death of a warrior or a soldier. A coward's death, a slave's, a cur's, is thy only fitting end. Such, and no other, shalt thou have." He motioned with his hand.

A yell which made the deeps and hollows resound came from the unhappy wretch, as his captors lifted him on high and raised him for a moment above the Dantean abyss. As the miserable traitor fell from their grasp, he seized in his teeth the mat (purere) of the nearest man, who, but for the prompt action of his comrade, might have been dragged with him into the inferno. But that wary warrior, with lightning quickness, struck such a blow on the nape of his neck with the back of the tomahawk hanging to his wrist with a leather thong, that he fell forward, nerveless and quivering, into the hell cauldron beneath. For one moment he emerged, with a face expressive of unutterable anguish, madness, and despair, then raising his fettered arms to the level of his head, fell backward into the depths of the raging and impure weaves.

"Tutua-kuri-mokai!" said the chief, as he gave the signal for return, and sauntered carelessly homeward. "He will cost nothing for burial. There are others that are fitting themselves for the same place."

Cyril Summers with his family returned to England, rightly judging that, in the present state of Maori feeling, it was unfair to expose his wife to the risk of a repetition of the horrors from which they had escaped. [Pg 408] Hypatia accompanied them, unwilling to forsake her friend, whose state of health, weakened by their terrible experiences, rendered her companionship indispensable. On reaching England the Reverend Cyril was offered an incumbency in the diocese of his beloved bishop, now of Lichfield, in the peaceful performance of the duties of which he has found rest for his troubled spirit. His wife's health was completely re-established. Without in any way derogating from the importance of his work among the heathen, which, after having reached so encouraging a stage, had been ruthlessly arrested, he arrived at the conclusion that he had a worthy and hardly less difficult task to perform in the conversion of the heathen in the Black Country. His bishop acknowledged privately with regret that their savages, though not less truculent, were devoid of many of the redeeming qualities of the Maori heathen.

Roland Massinger remained in New Zealand until his health was thoroughly re-established, when, having received the welcome intelligence that Mr. Hamon de Massinger, an old bachelor and a distant relation, had left him a very large fortune, he so far modified his thirst for adventure and heroic colonization as to take his passage to England, where his lawyers advised that his presence was absolutely necessary.

Upon his arrival, he lost no time in visiting his county and looking up his friends, who made a tremendous hero of him, and would by no means allow him to deny astonishing feats of valour performed during the Maori war. He also discovered that his Australian successor, though most popular in the county, had become tired of the unrelieved comfort and too pronounced absence of adventure [Pg 409] in English country life. The sport, the society, the farming even, so restricted as to be minute in his eyes, all had become uninteresting to the ex-pioneer, not yet old enough to fall out of the ranks of England's empire-makers. These considerations, coupled with a fall in wool, and the rumour of a drought, widespread and unprecedented in severity, decided Mr. Lexington to return to the land of his birth.

His elder daughter had married satisfactorily, and settled in the county. "She had," she averred, "no ultra-patriotic longings. England, with an annual trip to the Continent, was good enough for her. She doubted whether George would care for Australia. Then there was the dear baby, who was too young to travel. She was truly sorry to part from her family, but as the voyage was now only a matter of five weeks by the P. and O. or the Messageries boats, she could come out and see them every other year, at any rate."

As for the younger girl, she began to pine for the plains and forests amid which her childhood had been passed. England was a sort of fairyland, no doubt. Climate lovely and cool, and the people kind and charming; but somehow the old country—that is, the new country—where they had been born and bred, seemed to have prior claims. She would not be sorry to see the South Head Lighthouse again and Sydney Harbour.

The eldest son had gone more than a year ago. He was very glad, he wrote, that he had done so. One manager had become extravagant; another had taken to drinking. Everybody seemed to think that they (the family) had left Australia for good. There was such a thing as the master's eye, without [Pg 410] doubt. Such had been his experience. He would tell them more when he saw them.

One of the reasons which actuated Mr. Lexington, a shrewd though liberal man in business matters, was a dislike to paying the income-tax in two countries at the same time. He could afford it, certainly, but it struck him as wasteful, and in a measure unfair, to make an Australian pay extravagantly for desiring to live in the mother-land. Then, after assisting to enlarge the empire abroad, the price of landed estates in England had gone down seriously—was, indeed, going down still. With a probability of a serious fall in values in both hemispheres, it was better to part with his English investment while he could get a purchaser for it, who, like himself, was not disposed to stand upon trifles.

So it came to pass that, after a conference between his own and the Massinger solicitors, Mr. Lexington accepted the proposal to sell Massinger Court, with the Hereford herd of high-bred cattle, hacks, hunters, carriage-horses, vehicles, saddlery—indeed, everything just as it stood. All these adjuncts to be taken at a valuation, and added to the price of the estate, the re-purchase of which by a member of the family was what most probably, though his solicitor declined to say, old Mr. Hamon de Massinger, the testator, had in view all along.

The county was ridiculously overjoyed, as some acidulated person said, that the rightful heir, so to speak, was come to his own again. Independently of such feeling, nowhere stronger than in English county society, few localities but would feel a certain satisfaction at the return of a county magnate—rich, unmarried, and distinguished, as a man must always [Pg 411] be who has fought England's battles abroad, and shed his blood in upholding her honour. Thus, although the free-handed and unaffected Australian family was heartily regretted, and "farewelled" with suitable honours, the sentimental corner in all hearts responded fervently to the news that the young squire had returned to the home of his ancestors, and would henceforth, as he declared at the tenants' enthusiastically joyous reception, live among his own people.

Of course, all sorts of exaggerated versions of his life in the far South prevailed. These comprised prowess in war, hairbreadth escapes, wounds, and captivity, the whole rounded off with a legend of a beautiful native princess, who had brought him as her dower a principality beneath the Southern Cross. To these romantic rumours he paid no attention whatever, refusing to be drawn, and giving the most cursory answers to direct questions. But when, after spending a quiet year on his estate, in the management of which he took great interest, it was announced that he was about to be married to the beautiful, distinguished, fascinating, eccentric Hypatia Tollemache, all the county was wildly excited. When the event took place, the particulars of the quiet wedding were read and re-read by every one in his own and the adjacent counties.

Fresh tales and legends, however, continued to be circulated. His first wife—for he had married a beautiful Maori princess; at any rate, a chief's daughter—was killed fighting by his side in a tribal war. She was jealous of Miss Tollemache, and had committed suicide. Not at all. Her father, a great war-chief, disapproved of the union, and, [Pg 412] carrying her off, had immured her in his stronghold, surrounded by a lake, which her despairing husband could not cross. So she pined away and died. That was the reason for his occasional fits of depression, and his insensibility to the charms of the local belles.

He was obdurate with respect to giving information as to the truth or otherwise of these interesting narratives; indeed, so obviously unwilling to gratify even the most natural curiosity, that at length even the most hardened inquisitor gave up the task in despair.

The county had more reason for complaint when it was further announced that Sir Roland and his bride had left for the Continent immediately after the wedding, whence they did not propose returning until the near approach of Christmas-tide. Then such old-world festivities as were still remembered by the villagers in connection with former lords of the manor would be conscientiously kept up, while the largesse to the poor, which under the new r�gime had not by any means fallen into disuse, would be disbursed with exceptional profusion.

After the sale Mr. Lexington had been besought to consult his own convenience, absolutely and unreservedly, as to the time and manner of his departure. The purchase-money having been received, and all legal forms completed, he was to consider the house and all things appertaining thereto at his service. Messrs. Nourse and Lympett had instructions to take delivery of the estate whenever it suited him to vacate it. The Australian gentleman, having had much experience in the sale and taking over of "stations" in Australia—always regarded as a crucial test of liberality—was heard to declare that never in his life had he [Pg 413] purchased and resold so extensive a property with so little trouble, or concluded so considerable a transaction with less friction or misunderstanding on either side.

And so, when the leaves in the woods around the Chase had fallen, and the ancient oaks and elms were arrayed in all their frost and snow jewellery, word came that the squire with his bride were returning from their extended tour. They would arrive on a certain day, prepared to inhabit the old hall which had sheltered in pride and power so many generations of the race. Then the whole county went off its head, and prepared for his home-coming. Such a demonstration had not been heard of since Sir Hugo de Massinger, constable of Chester, came home from the wars in Wales after the death of Gwenwyn.

When the train drew up to the platform, such a crowd was there that Hypatia looked forth with amazement, wondering whether there was a contested election, with the chairing of the successful candidate imminent. Every man of note in the county was there, from the Duke of Dunstanburgh to the last created knight. Every tenant, every villager, with their wives and daughters, sons and visitors; every tradesman—in fact, every soul within walking, riding, or driving distance—had turned up to do honour to Sir Roland of the Court, who, after adventures by sea and land, through war and bloodshed, had been suffered, doubtless by the direct interposition of Providence, to come to his own again.

As Sir Roland and his fair dame passed through the crowd towards their chariot, it was quickly understood what was to be the order of the day. The horses were taken out, and a dozen willing hands [Pg 414] grasped the pole, preparatory to setting forth for the Court, some three miles distant. Waving his hand to request silence, the bridegroom said—

"My lord duke, ladies and gentlemen, and you my good friends, who have known me from childhood, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for the welcome which you have given to me and my dear wife on our return to our native country and the home of my ancestors. My wife would thank you on her part, if her heart was not too full. We trust that in the future we may show by our lives, lived among you, how deeply, how intensely, we appreciate your generous welcome. At present I can say nothing more, than to invite you, one and all, to accompany us to the Court, to do us the honour to accept the first hospitality we have been in a position to offer since I left England."

Due notice had been given. Preparations had been made on a scale of unprecedented magnitude. A partial surprise awaited the wedded pair as the carriage passed through the massive gates, above which the triumphal arch seemed to have levied contributions on half the evergreens in the park. The heraldic beasts, each "a demi-Pegasus quarterly or in gules," on the moss-grown pillars, were garlanded with hot-house flowers, as also with the holly-bush and berries appropriate to the season. Marquees had been erected on the lawns, where all manner of meats, from the lordly baron of beef to the humbler flitch of bacon, were exhibited in such profusion as might lead to the inference that a regiment had been