Three months had passed since the conversation in the last chapter, when
after an adverse voyage from Port Jackson, His Majesty's sloop-of-war
under shortened sail made her way slowly towards what was in those days
a land of mystery.
A stiff breeze was blowing, and the watch were on deck, ready for
reducing sail or any emergency. More were ready in the tops, and all on
board watching the glorious scene unfolding before them.
"I say, Mas' Don, look ye there," whispered Jem, as they sat together in
the foretop. "If this don't beat Bristol, I'm a Dutchman."
"Beat Bristol!" said Don contemptuously; "why, it's as different as can
be."
"Well, I dunno so much about that," said Jem. "There's that mountain
yonder smoking puts one in mind of a factory chimney. And look yonder
too!--there's another one smoking ever so far off. I say, are those
burning mountains?"
"I suppose so, unless it's steam. But what a lovely place!"
There were orders for shortening sail given just then, and they had no
more opportunity for talking during the next quarter of an hour, when,
much closer in, they lay in the top once more, gazing eagerly at the
glorious prospect of sea and sky, and verdant land and mountain. The
vessel slowly rounded what appeared to be a headland, and in a short
time the wind seemed to have dropped, and the sea to have grown calm.
It was like entering a lovely lake; and as they went slowly on and on,
it was to find that they were forging ahead in a perfect archipelago,
with fresh beauties opening up each minute.
The land was deliciously green, and cut up into valley, hill, and
mountain. One island they were passing sent forth into the clear sunny
air a cloud of silvery steam, which floated slowly away, like a white
ensign spread to welcome the newcomers from a civilised land. At their
distance from the shore it was impossible to make out the individual
trees, but there seemed to be clumps of noble pines some distance in,
and the valleys were made ornamental with some kind of feathery growth.
"Well, all I've got to say, Mas' Don, is this here--Singpore arn't to be
grumbled at, and China's all very well, only hot; but if you and me's
going to say good-bye to sailoring, let's do it here."
"That's exactly what I was thinking, Jem," replied Don.
"Say, Mas' Don, p'r'aps it arn't for me, being a servant and you a young
master, to make remarks."
"Don't talk nonsense, Jem; we are both common sailors."
"Well then, sir, as one sailor to another sailor, I says I wish you
wouldn't get into bad habits."
"I wish so too, Jem."
"There you are again!" said Jem testily.
"What do you mean?"
"Why, so sure as I thinks something sensible and good, you always
ketches me up and says you had thought it before."
"Nonsense, Jem! Well, have it your way. I quite agree with you."
"No, I won't, sir; you're master. Have it your way. I quite agree with
you. Let's go ashore here."
"If you can get the chance, Jem.--How lovely it looks!"
"Lovely's nothing to it, sir. Mike used to brag about what he'd seen in
foreign countries, but he never see anything to come up to this."
"I don't think any one could see a more beautiful place, Jem."
"But I don't like the look o' that, sir."
"Of what?"
"That there yonder. That smoke."
"What, on that little island? No, Jem; it's steam."
"Well, don't you know what that means?"
"No."
"Then I've got something at last as you arn't got first!" cried Jem
excitedly, as he sheltered his eyes from the glare of the sun. "Yes;
that's it's, sure. Cooking!"
"Cooking? What's cooking?"
"That place where the steam is, Mas' Don. I say, you know what they do
here? That's the place where they do it."
"Do what?"
"Cook people. That's the spot, safe."
"Nonsense!" said Don laughing.
"Ah! You may call it nonsense, Mas' Don; but if them sort o' things is
done here, I think we'd better stop on board."
Just at that moment the captain, who was busy with his spyglass
examining the place and looking for a snug anchorage, suddenly gave an
order, which was passed on, and with the rapidity customary on board a
man-of-war, the stout boarding nettings, ready for use on an emergency,
were triced up to the lower rigging, so that before long the vessel,
from its bulwarks high up toward the lower yards, presented the
appearance of a cage.
While this was going on, others of the men stood to their arms, guns
were cast loose and loaded, and every precaution taken against a
surprise.
The reason for all this was that quite a fleet of long canoes, propelled
by paddles, suddenly began to glide out from behind one of the islands,
each canoe seeming to contain from eighty to a hundred men.
The effect was beautiful, for the long, dark vessels, with their
grotesque, quaintly carved prows and sterns, seemed to be like some
strange living creatures working along paths of silver, so regularly
went the paddles, turning the sea into lines of dazzling light.
The men were armed with spears and tomahawks, and as they came nearer,
some could be seen wearing black feathers tipped with white stuck in
their hair, while their dark, nearly naked bodies glistened in the sun
like bronze.
"Are they coming to attack us, Jem?" said Don, who began to feel a
strange thrill of excitement.
"Dessay they'd like to, Mas' Don; but it strikes me they'd think twice
about it. Why, we could sail right over those long thin boats of
theirs, and send 'em all to the bottom."
Just then there was an order from the deck, and more sail was taken in,
till the ship hardly moved, as the canoes came dashing up, the men of
the foremost singing a mournful kind of chorus as they paddled on.
"Ship ahoy!" suddenly came from the first canoe. "What ship's that?"
"His Majesty's sloop-of-war _Golden Danae_," shouted back the first
lieutenant from the chains. "Tell your other boats to keep back, or we
shall fire."
"No, no, no: don't do that, sir! They don't mean fighting," came back
from the boat; and a big savage, whose face was blue with tattooing,
stood up in the canoe, and then turned and spoke to one of his
companions, who rose and shouted to the occupants of the other canoes to
cease paddling.
"Speaks good English, sir," said the lieutenant to the captain.
"Yes. Ask them what they want, and if it's peace."
The lieutenant shouted this communication to the savage in the canoe.
"Want, sir?" came back; "to trade with you for guns and powder, and to
come aboard."
"How is it you speak good English?"
"Why, what should an Englishman speak?"
"Then you are not a savage?"
"Now do I look like one?" cried the man indignantly.
"Of course; I forgot--I'm an Englishman on a visit to the country, and
I've adopted their customs, sir--that's all."
"Oh, I see," said the lieutenant, laughing; "ornaments and all."
"May they come aboard, sir?"
"Oh, yes; if they leave their arms."
The man communicated this to the occupants of the boat, and there was a
good deal of excited conversation for a time.
"That fellow's a runaway convict for certain, sir," said the lieutenant.
"Shall we get him aboard, and keep him?"
"No. Let him be. Perhaps he will prove very useful."
"The chiefs say it isn't fair to ask them to come without their arms,"
said the tattooed Englishman. "How are they to know that you will not
be treacherous?"
"Tell them this is a king's ship, and if they behave themselves they
have nothing to fear," said the captain. "Stop! Six of them can come
aboard armed if they like. You can lead them and interpret."
"I'll tell them, sir; but I won't come aboard, thank you. I'm a bit of
a savage now, and the crew might make remarks, and we should quarrel."
He turned to the savages, and the captain and lieutenant exchanged
glances, while directly after the canoe was run alongside, and
half-a-dozen of the people sprang up the side, and were admitted through
the boarding netting to begin striding about the deck in the most
fearless way.
They were fine, herculean-looking fellows, broad-shouldered and
handsome, and every man had his face tattooed in a curious scroll-like
pattern, which ended on the sides of his nose.
Their arms were spears and tomahawks, and two carried by a stout thong
to the wrist a curiously carved object, which looked like a model of a
paddle in pale green stone, carefully polished, but which on closer
inspection seemed to be a weapon for using at close quarters.
As they paraded the deck, with their quick eyes grasping everything,
they made no scruple about placing their faces close to those of the
sailors, and then drawing themselves up with a conscious look of
satisfaction and self-esteem, as they compared their physique with that
of their visitors.
One of them, a great fellow of about six feet three, and stout and
muscular in proportion, stopped suddenly in front of Jem, at whom he
seemed to frown, and turned to Don, upon whose chest he laid the back of
his hand.
"Pakeha," he said in a deep voice; "Ngati pakeha."
"Tell him he's another, Mas' Don," said Jem.
The savage turned fiercely upon Jem, gripping Don's arm the while.
"Pakeha," he said; "Ngati pakeha. Maori pakeha. My pakeha!"