CHAPTER VIII.

THE END OF THE VOYAGE.

When Wilfred went below to get materials for a barricade, he found the

ladies kneeling or sitting calm and quiet, although very pale and white,

round the table, while Mrs. Renshaw was praying aloud. She concluded her

prayer just as he came down. There was a general chorus of questions.

"Everything is going on well," Wilfrid said cheerfully; "but we want to

make a breastwork, for the spears are flying about so, one cannot stand

up to fire at them. I have come to ask you all to carry up mattrasses

and pillows and cushions and portmanteaus, and anything else that will

make a barricade. The steward will open the lazaret and send up barrels

and things. Please set to work at once."

Not a moment was lost; the ladies carried the things rapidly up the

companion, two of the passengers passed them outside, and others lying

in a line pushed them forward from one to another until they arrived at

those lying, rifle in hand, twenty feet aft of the poop rails. There was

soon a line of mattrasses four deep laid across the deck.

"That will do to begin with," Mr. Atherton said. "Now, let us push these

before us to the end of the poop, and we can then commence operations.

The sailors, Wilfrid Renshaw, the Allens, and myself will first open

fire. Will the rest of you please continue to pass things along to add

to the height of our barricade? I wish we knew how they are getting on

on shore." For almost immediately after the struggle had begun on board

the sound of musketry had broken out from that quarter, and they knew

that the watering party had been attacked directly the natives knew that

their chiefs had commenced the massacre on board ship.

Several times, in spite of the danger from the flying spears, Mr.

Atherton had gone to the stern and looked towards the shore. The boats

lay there seemingly deserted, and the fight was going on in the wood. A

number of canoes had placed themselves so as to cut off the return of

the boats should the sailors succeed in making their way to them.

As soon as the line of mattrasses was pushed forward to the edge of the

poop a steady fire was opened upon the natives, who had already taken

off the hatches, and were engaged in bringing their plunder up on deck,

deferring the dangerous operation of carrying the poop for the present.

As soon, however, as the fire opened upon them they seized their spears

and tomahawks, and, led by one of their chiefs, made a rush at the two

poop ladders. Mr. Atherton gave a shout, and the whole of the passengers

seizing their muskets sprang to their feet and ran forward to the

barricade, and so heavy a fire was poured into the natives as they tried

to ascend the ladders, that they fell back again and contented

themselves with replying to the fire with volleys of spears. The

passengers at once renewed their work of passing the materials for the

barricade forward, and this was continued until it rose breast high.

They then took their places closely together behind it, and joined its

defenders in keeping up a heavy fire upon the natives. So deadly was its

effect that the latter began to lose heart and to jump over into the

canoes alongside.

A cheer broke from the passengers as they saw the movement of retreat.

It was no longer necessary for any to reserve their fire, and this was

redoubled. The natives were discouraged by the want of leaders; their

principal chiefs had all been killed on the poop, and any other who

attempted to rally them and lead them again to an attack was instantly

shot down by Mr. Atherton, who, as Wilfrid, who was standing next to

him observed, never once failed to bring down the man he aimed at.

"I think we might go at them, sir, now," the second officer said to Mr.

Atherton; "the fight is all out of them."

"I think so too, Rawlins. Now, gentlemen, give them one last volley and

then pull down the barricade across the ends of the ladders and charge

them." The volley was given, and then with a ringing cheer the barricade

was thrust aside, and, led on one side by Mr. Atherton and on the other

by the second officer, the defenders of the poop sprang down the ladders

and rushed forward. The natives did not stop to await them, but sprung

overboard with the greatest precipitation, and the _Flying Scud_ was

once again in the hands of its lawful owners.

"Now, Rawlins, do you and the sailors work the guns, we will pepper them

with our rifles," Mr. Atherton said. "Mr. Renshaw, will you go aft and

tell the ladies that all is over?"

But this they had already learned. Marion, after the things had been

passed up, had taken her place at the top of the companion, occasionally

peering out to see what was going on, and running down with the news to

them below, and as the loud cheer which preceded the charge had broken

from those on deck, she had called out to the ladies below that the

natives were beaten. The shower of spears from the boats had ceased as

soon as the natives saw their friends leaping overboard, and as Mr.

Renshaw ascended the poop to deliver the message the ladies were

flocking out on deck, each anxious to ascertain whether those most dear

to them had suffered in the fray. Marion run forward and threw herself

into his arms.

"Not hurt, father?"

"No, my dear, thank God. Some of us have got spear wounds more or less

awkward, but nobody has been killed except those who were struck down at

the beginning." As he spoke the four cannon boomed out one after

another, for they had been loaded some days before, and a hail of

bullets and pieces of iron with which they had been crammed tore through

the canoes, while terrible yells rose from the natives. Three of the

canoes were instantly sunk, and half the paddlers in the large boat of

the chief were killed or disabled. Almost the same instant a dropping

fire of musketry was opened, the passengers firing as soon as they had

reloaded their pieces.

"Give another dose to that big fellow!" the second officer shouted to

the men at the two guns at that side of the ship. "Shove a ball in, men,

and a bagful of bullets--take steady aim, and remember the poor

captain!" A minute later the guns were fired. A terrible cry was heard,

and almost instantaneously the great canoe disappeared below the water.

"Get the other two guns over to this side," Mr. Rawlins said; "we must

lend a hand now to the party ashore. Load all the guns with grape, and

aim at those canoes between us and them." These, following the example

of those around the ship, were already moving towards the shore, and the

discharge of the four guns sunk two of them and sent the others off in

headlong flight.

"What had we better do now, Mr. Atherton?"

"I should load with round shot now, Rawlins, and open fire into the wood

on both sides of the landing-place. The sound of the shot crashing among

the trees will demoralize the scoundrels even if you do not hit anyone."

Three or four rounds were fired, and then those on board gave a cheer as

they saw the sailors issue out from among the trees and take their

places in the boats. Half a minute later they were rowing towards the

vessel, unmolested by the natives. Mr. Ryan stood up in the stern of his

boat as soon as they were within hailing distance and shouted--"How has

it gone with you?"

"We have beaten them off, as you see," the second officer shouted back;

"but the ship was pretty nearly in their hands for a time. The captain

is killed, I am sorry to say; four of our men, and two of the

passengers. How have you done?"

"We have lost three men," Mr. Ryan replied, "and most of us are

wounded."

The boats were soon alongside, and Mr. Ryan, after hearing what had

taken place on board, related his experience. "We had got about half the

casks filled when we heard a rifle shot on board a ship, followed

directly by the yells of the black divils. I ordered the men to drop the

casks and take to their guns, but I had scarcely spoken when a volley of

spears fell among us. Two men were killed at once. I had intended to

take to the boats and come off to lend you a hand, but by the yelling

and the shower of spears I saw that the spalpeens were so thick round us

that if we had tried we should pretty well all be killed before we

could get fairly out, so I told the men to take to the trees and keep up

a steady fire whenever the natives tried to make a rush at us. I was, of

course, terribly anxious about you all at first, and I knew that if the

ship was taken they must have us all sooner or later. After the first

few shots there was silence for a time, and I feared the worst."

"The spears were flying so thick we could not stand up to fire," the

second officer put in.

"Ah! that was it. Well, I was afraid you had all been massacred, and you

may imagine how relieved I was when I heard a dropping fire of musketry

begin; I knew then that they had failed to take you by surprise. The

fire at last got so heavy I was sure that most of you had escaped the

first attack, and we then felt pretty hopeful, though I did not see how

we were to get down to the boats and get off to you. When we heard the

first cannon shot we gave a cheer that must have astonished the natives,

for we knew you must have cleared the deck of the scoundrels. I had set

a man at the edge of the trees by the water to let us know how you were

going on, and he soon shouted that the canoes were drawing off! Then we

heard the big canoe was sunk, and that you had driven off the craft that

were lying between us and the ship. A minute later the round shot came

crashing among the trees, and almost immediately the yelling round us

ceased, and we felt sure they must be drawing off. We waited until you

had fired a couple more rounds, and then as all seemed quiet we fell

back to the boats, and, as you saw, got off without a single spear

being thrown at us. I am awfully sorry for the poor captain. If he had

but taken your advice, Mr. Atherton, all this would not have happened;

but at last he got to trust these treacherous scoundrels, and this is

the result."

"Well, Mr. Ryan, you are in command now," Mr. Atherton said, "and we are

all ready to carry out any orders that you will give us."

"First of all then, Mr. Atherton, I must, in the name of the owners of

this ship, of myself, the officers and crew, thank you for having saved

it and us from the hands of these savages. From what Mr. Rawlins tells

me, and from what I know myself, I am convinced that had it not been for

your vigilance, and for the part you have taken in the defence of the

ship, the natives would have succeeded in their treacherous design of

massacring all on board almost without resistance."

A cheer broke from the passengers and crew, and Mr. Renshaw said when it

had subsided: "I, on the part of the passengers, endorse all that Mr.

Ryan has said; we owe it to you, Atherton, that by God's mercy we and

those dear to us have escaped from death at the hands of these savages.

It was you who put some of us on our guard; it was your marvellous

shooting with the revolver that first cleared the poop; and your

extraordinary strength, that enabled you single-handed to check the

onslaught of the natives and give us time to rally from our first

surprise, and saved the ship and us."

"Do not let us say anything more about it," Mr. Atherton said; "we have

all done our duty to the best of our power, and have reason to be

heartily thankful to God that we have got out of this scrape without

heavier loss than has befallen us. Now, Mr. Ryan, please give your

orders."

"The first thing, undoubtedly, is to clear the deck of these bodies,"

Mr. Ryan said.

"What about the wounded?" Mr. Renshaw asked, "no doubt some of the poor

wretches are still alive."

"They do not deserve any better fate than to be tossed overboard with

the others; still, as that would go against the grain, we will see what

we can do." He looked over the side. "There is a good-sized canoe

floating there fifty yards away. I suppose the fellows thought it would

be safer to jump overboard and swim ashore. Four of you men get out the

gig and tow the canoe alongside. We will put any wounded we find into it

and send it adrift; they will come out and pick it up after we are

fairly off."

The bodies of sixty natives who had been killed outright were thrown

overboard, and eighteen who were found to be still alive were lowered

into the canoe. "I do not think we are really doing them much kindness,

though of course we are doing the best we can for them," Mr. Atherton

said to Mr. Renshaw. "I doubt if one of them will live. You see, all who

were able to drag themselves to the side jumped overboard, and were

either drowned or hauled into the canoes."

As soon as the operation was over the casks of water were got on board

and the boats hoisted to the davits. The anchor was then hove up and

some of the sails shaken out, and with a gentle breeze the vessel began

to draw off the land. As soon as this was done all hands set to work

washing down the decks; and in two or three hours, except for the bullet

marks on the deck and bulwarks, there were no signs left of the

desperate conflict that had raged on board the _Flying Scud_. At sunset

all hands gathered on the poop, and the bodies of the captain and two

passengers, and of the sailors who had fallen, were reverently delivered

to the deep, Mr. Ryan reading the funeral service.

The ladies had retired below after the boats had come alongside, and did

not come up until all was ready for the funeral. Mrs. Renshaw and three

or four of the others had been employed in dressing the wounds of those

who had been injured. Four out of the six sailors who had survived the

massacre on board had been more or less severely wounded before they won

their way on the quarter-deck, and six of the watering party were also

wounded. Eight of the passengers had been struck with the flying spears;

but only two of these had received wounds likely to cause anxiety. After

the funeral was over more sail was hoisted, the breeze freshened, and

the _Flying Scud_ proceeded briskly on her way.

The rest of the voyage was uneventful. Thankful as all were for their

escape, a gloom hung over the ship. The death of the captain was much

felt by all. He had been uniformly kind and obliging to the passengers,

and had done everything in his power to make the voyage a pleasant one.

One of the passengers who was killed was a young man with none on board

to mourn him, but the other had left a widow and two children, whose

presence in their midst was a constant reminder of their narrow escape

from destruction.

The voyage had produced a very marked change in Mr. Renshaw. It had

brought him in far closer connection with his children than he had ever

been before, with results advantageous to each. Hitherto they had

scarcely ever seen him except at meals, and even at these times his

thoughts were so wholly taken up with the writings on which he was

engaged that he had taken but little part in the general conversation

beyond giving a willing assent to any request they made, and evincing no

interest whatever in their plans and amusements.

Now, although for four or five hours a day he worked diligently at his

study of the Maori language, he was at other times ready to join in what

was going on. He often walked the deck by the hour with Wilfrid and

Marion, and in that time learned far more of their past life, of their

acquaintances and amusements at their old home, than he had ever known

before. He was genial and chatty with all the other passengers, and the

astonishment of his children was unbounded when he began to take a

lively part in the various amusements by which the passengers whiled

away the long hours, and played at deck quoits and bull. The latter game

consists of a board divided into twelve squares, numbered one to ten,

with two having bulls' heads upon them; leaden discs covered with canvas

are thrown on to this board, counting according to the number on which

they fall, ten being lost for each quoit lodged on a square marked by a

bull's head.

On the evening of the day before the shores of New Zealand came in

sight Mr. Renshaw was sitting by his wife. "The voyage is just finished,

Helen," he said. "It has been a pleasant time. I am sorry it is over."

"A very pleasant time, Alfred," she replied, "one of the most pleasant I

have ever spent."

"I see now," he went on, "that I have made a mistake of my life, and

instead of making an amusement of my hobby for archæology have thrown

away everything for it. I have been worse than selfish. I have utterly

neglected you and the children. Why, I seem only to have made an

acquaintance with them since we came on board a ship. I see now, dear,

that I have broken my marriage vows to you. I have always loved you and

always honoured you, but I have altogether failed to cherish you."

"You have always been good and kind, Alfred," she said softly.

"A man may be good and kind to a dog, Helen; but that is not all that a

wife has a right to expect. I see now that I have blundered miserably. I

cannot change my nature altogether, dear; that is too late. I cannot

develop a fund of energy by merely wishing for it; but I can make the

happiness of my wife and children my first thought and object, and my

own pursuits the second. I thought the loss of our money was a terrible

misfortune. I do not think so now. I feel that I have got my wife again

and have gained two children, and whatever comes of our venture here I

shall feel that the failure of the bank has brought undeserved happiness

to me."

"And to me also," Mrs. Renshaw said softly as she pressed her husband's

hand. "I feel sure that we shall all be happier than we have ever been

before. Not that we have been unhappy, dear, very far from it; still you

have not been our life and centre, and it has been so different since

the voyage began."

"He is not half a bad fellow, after all," Mr. Atherton said, as leaning

against the bulwark smoking his cigar he had glanced across at the

husband and wife seated next to each other talking in low tones, and

evidently seeing nothing of what was passing around them. "He has

brightened up wonderfully since we started. Of course he will never be a

strong man, and is no more fit for a settler's life than he is for a

habitation in the moon. Still, he is getting more like other people. His

thoughts are no longer two or three thousand years back. He has become a

sociable and pleasant fellow, and I am sure he is very fond of his wife

and children. It is a pity he has not more backbone. Still, I think the

general outlook is better than I expected. Taking it altogether it has

been as pleasant a voyage as I have ever made. There is the satisfaction

too that one may see something of one's fellow-passengers after we land.

This northern island is not, after all, such a very big place. That is

the worst of homeward voyages. People who get to know and like each

other when they arrive in port scatter like a bomb-shell in every

direction, and the chances are against your ever running up against any

of them afterwards."

Somewhat similar ideas occupied the mind of most of the passengers that

evening. The voyage had been a pleasant one, and they were almost sorry

that it was over; but there was a pleasurable excitement at the thought

that they should next day see the land that was to be their home, and

the knowledge that they should all be staying for a few days at

Wellington seemed to postpone the break-up of their party for some

little time.

No sooner was the anchor dropped than a number of shore boats came off

to the ship. Those who had friends on shore and were expecting to be met

watched anxiously for a familiar face, and a cry of delight broke from

the two Mitfords as they saw their father and mother in one of these

boats. After the first joyful greeting was over the happy little party

retired to the cabin, where they could chat together undisturbed, as all

the passengers were on deck. Half an hour later they returned to the

deck, and the girls led their father and mother up to Mrs. Renshaw.

"I have to thank you most heartily, Mrs. Renshaw, for your great

kindness to my girls. They tell me that you have throughout the voyage

looked after them as if they had been your own daughters."

"There was no looking after required, I can assure you," Mrs. Renshaw

said. "I was very pleased, indeed, to have them in what I may call our

little party, and it was a great advantage and pleasure to my own girl."

"We are going ashore at once," Mr. Mitford said. "My girls tell me that

you have no acquaintances here. My own place is hundreds of miles away,

and we are staying with some friends while waiting the arrival of the

ship, and therefore cannot, I am sorry to say, put you up; but in any

other way in which we can be of assistance we shall be delighted to give

any aid in our power. The girls say you are thinking of making this

your head-quarters until you decide upon the district in which you mean

to settle. In that case it will, of course, be much better for you to

take a house, or part of a house, than to stop at an hotel; and if so it

will be best to settle upon one at once, so as to go straight to it and

avoid all the expenses of moving twice. It is probable that our friends,

the Jacksons, may know of some suitable place, but if not I shall be

glad to act as your guide in house-hunting."

Mr. Renshaw here came up and was introduced to Mr. Mitford, who repeated

his offer.

"We shall be extremely glad," Mr. Renshaw replied; "though I really

think that it is most unfair to take you even for a moment from your

girls after an absence of five years."

"Oh, never mind that," Mr. Mitford said; "we shall land at once, and

shall have all the morning to talk with them. If you and Mrs. Renshaw

will come ashore at four o'clock in the afternoon my wife and I will

meet you at the landing-place. Or if, as I suppose you would prefer to

do, you like to land this morning and have a look at Wellington for

yourselves, this is our address, and if you will call at two o'clock, or

any time later, we shall be at your service. I would suggest, though,

that if you do land early, you should first come round to us, because

Jackson may know some place to suit you; and if not, I am sure that he

will be glad to accompany you and act as your guide."

"I should not like to trouble--" Mr. Renshaw began.

"My dear sir, you do not know the country. Everyone is glad to help a

new chum--that is the name for fresh arrivals--to the utmost of his

power if he knows anything whatever about him, and no one thinks

anything of trouble."

"In that case," Mr. Renshaw said smiling, "we will gladly avail

ourselves of the offer. We should all have been contented if the voyage

had lasted a month longer; but being here, we all, I suppose, want to

get ashore as soon as possible. Therefore we shall probably call at your

address in the course of an hour or so after you get there."

Wilfrid and Marion were indeed in such a hurry to get ashore that a very

few minutes after the Mitfords left the side of the ship, the Renshaws

took a boat and started for the shore. Most of the other passengers also

landed.

"We shall go in alongside the quays in an hour's time," the captain said

as they left; "so you must look for us there when you have done

sight-seeing. We shall begin to get the baggage up at once for the

benefit of those who are in a hurry to get away to the hotels; but I

shall be glad for you all to make the ship your home until to-morrow."

For an hour after landing the Renshaws wandered about Wellington, which

they found to be a pretty and well-built town with wide streets.

"Why, it is quite a large place!" Wilfrid exclaimed in surprise.

"Different, of course, from towns at home, with more open spaces. I

expected it would be much rougher than it is."

"It is the second town of the island, you see," Mr. Renshaw said; "and

is an important place. Well, I am glad we did not cumber ourselves by

bringing everything out from England, for there will be no difficulty

in providing ourselves with everything we require here."

After wandering about for an hour they proceeded to the address Mr.

Mitford had given them. It was a house of considerable size, standing in

a pretty garden, a quarter of a mile from the business part of the town.

They were warmly received by the Mitfords, and introduced to Mr. and

Mrs. Jackson.

"Mr. Mitford has been telling me that you want to get a house, or part

of a house, for a few weeks till you look about you and decide where you

will settle down," Mr. Jackson said. "I am a land and estate agent,

besides doing a little in other ways. We most of us turn our hands to

anything that presents itself here. I have taken a holiday for this

morning and left my clerk in charge, so I am quite at your service. You

will find it difficult and expensive if you take a whole house, so I

should advise you strongly to take lodgings. If you were a large party

it would be different, but you only want a sitting-room and three

bed-rooms."

"We could do with a sitting-room, a good-sized bed-room for my wife and

myself, and a small one for my daughter," Mr. Renshaw said; "and take a

bed-room out for a few nights for Wilfrid, as he will be starting with a

friend to journey through the colony and look out for a piece of land to

suit us."

"Then there will be no difficulty at all. You will find lodgings rather

more expensive than in England. I do not mean more expensive than a

fashionable watering-place, but certainly more expensive than in a town

of the same kind at home. House rent is high here; but then, on the

other hand, your living will cost you less than at home."

After an hour's search lodgings were found in a house at no great

distance from that of Mr. Jackson. It was a small house, kept by the

widow of the owner and captain of a small trading ship that had been

lost a year previously. The ship had fortunately been insured, and the

widow was able to keep on the house in which she lived, adding to her

income by letting a portion of it to new arrivals who, like the

Renshaws, intended to make a stay of some little time in Wellington

before taking any steps to establish themselves as settlers.

"I think," Mr. Jackson said when this was settled, "you are doing wisely

by letting your son here take a run through the colony. There is no

greater mistake than for new-comers to be in a hurry. Settle in haste

and repent at leisure is the rule. Mr. Mitford was saying that he hoped

that you might settle down somewhere in his locality; but at any rate it

will be best to look round first. There is plenty of land at present to

be obtained anywhere, and there are many things to be considered in

choosing a location. Carriage is of course a vital consideration, and a

settler on a river has a great advantage over one who has to send his

produce a long distance to market by waggon. Then, again, some people

prefer taking up virgin land and clearing it for themselves, while

others are ready to pay a higher sum to take possession of a holding

where much of the hard work has already been done, and a house stands

ready for occupation.

"At present no one, of course, with a wife and daughter would think of

settling in the disturbed district, although farms can be bought there

for next to nothing. The war is, I hope, nearly at an end, now that we

have ten British regiments in the island. They have taken most of the

enemy's pahs, though they have been a prodigious time about it, and we

colonists are very discontented with the dilatory way in which the war

has been carried on, and think that if things had been left to ourselves

we could have stamped the rebellion out in half the time. The red-coats

were much too slow; too heavily weighted and too cautious for this sort

of work. The Maoris defend their pahs well, inflict a heavy loss upon

their assailants, and when the latter at last make their attack and

carry the works the Maoris manage to slip away, and the next heard of

them is they have erected a fresh pah, and the whole thing has to be

gone through again. However, we need not discuss that now. I take it

that anyhow you would not think of settling down anywhere in the

locality of the tribes that have been in revolt."

"Certainly not," Mr. Renshaw said. "I am a peaceful man, and if I could

get a house and land for nothing and an income thrown into the bargain,

I should refuse it if I could not go to bed without the fear that the

place might be in flames before the morning."

"I am bound to say that the natives have as a whole behaved very well to

the settlers; it would have been easy in a great number of cases for

them to have cut them off had they chosen to do so. But they have fought

fairly and well according to the rules of what we may call honourable

warfare. The tribesmen are for the most part Christians, and have

carried out Christian precepts.

"In one case, hearing that the troops assembling to attack one of their

pahs were short of provisions, they sent down boat-loads of potatoes and

other vegetables to them, saying that the Bible said, 'If thine enemy

hunger feed him.' Still, in spite of instances of this kind, I should

certainly say do not go near the disturbed districts, for one cannot

assert that if hostilities continue they will always be carried on in

that spirit. However, things are at present perfectly peaceable

throughout the provinces of Wellington and Hawke Bay, and it may be

hoped it may continue so. I have maps and plans of all the various

districts, and before your son starts will give him all the information

I possess as to the advantages and disadvantages of each locality, the

nature of the soil, the price at which land can be purchased, and the

reputation of the natives in the neighbourhood."

The next day the Renshaws landed after breakfast and took up their abode

in the new lodgings. These were plainly but comfortably furnished, and

after one of the trunks containing nick-nacks of all descriptions had

been opened, and some of the contents distributed, the room assumed a

comfortable home-like appearance. A lodging had been obtained close by

for the two Grimstones. The young fellows were heartily glad to be on

shore again, for life among the steerage passengers during a long voyage

is dull and monotonous. Mr. Renshaw had looked after them during the

voyage, and had supplied them from his own stores with many little

comforts in the way of food, and with books to assist them to pass their

time; still they were very glad the voyage was over.

When he now told them it was probable that a month or even more might

pass after their arrival in the colony before he could settle on a piece

of land, and that during that time they would remain at Wellington, they

at once asked him to get them work of some kind if he could. "We should

be learning something about the place, sir; and should probably get our

food for our work, and should be costing you nothing, and we would much

rather do that than loiter about town doing nothing."

Mr. Renshaw approved of their plan, and mentioned it to Mr. Jackson,

who, on the very day after their landing, spoke to a settler who had

come in from a farm some twenty miles in the interior.

"They are active and willing young fellows and don't want pay, only to

be put up and fed until the man who has brought them out here with him

gets hold of a farm."

"I shall be extremely glad to have them," the settler said. "This is a

very busy time with us, and a couple of extra hands will be very useful.

They will learn a good deal as to our ways here in the course of a

month, and, as you say, it would be far better for them to be at work

than to be loafing about the place doing nothing."

Accordingly, the next morning the two Grimstones went up country and set

to work.

Maori and Settler: A Story of The New Zealand War · 第 8 / 18 章