Fully convinced that it behoved him to walk warily, and to consider
well before he committed himself to a purchase involving the investment
of his capital and the necessity of residence in a district which might
be exposed to the horrors of war, Massinger determined to consult all
available friends and acquaintances, as well as to examine for himself.
He wished to make sure not only of the validity of title, but of all
collateral conditions likely to affect his occupation. Still, an estate
of some sort he was determined to acquire.
He had taken daily walks in every direction from his headquarters, and
the more he saw of this wonderful country, the more favourably he was
disposed to think of its fertility, salubrity, and general adaptation
to the needs of an Anglo-Saxon race.
"What an astonishing thing it seems," he told himself, musingly, "that
these marvellous islands should have remained unknown, unoccupied
wastes, and, but for a few tribes of splendid barbarians, unpeopled,
until the early years of the present century! Providence has marked
them out for another home of our restless race. Another England,
beneath the Cross of the South! An outlet, how gracious and timely,
for the 'hardly entreated brother' who so often languishes in older
lands for lack of free scope for his energies! Such soil, such rivers,
such scenery, such a climate! What should we think at home if tens of
thousands of acres of land of this quality were offered to our farmers
at peppercorn rents or nominal purchase-money?"
Then, not intending to confine himself entirely to one set of advisers,
he decided to look up Mr. Dudley Slyde. He found that gentleman in an
upper chamber of a large building, writing letters which looked like
despatches, with an industry in strong contrast to his _dolce far
niente_ attitude during the voyage. However, he promptly relinquished
his task, and, taking a chair near a press marked "Native Titles," drew
forth a box of cigars, and, lighting one, exhorted his guest to do the
same.
"Writing home," he said apologetically; "last day of the mail--have to
send all sorts of beastly Reports. Just told my directors country's
going to the devil; wrapped it up decently, of course. Bad business,
this Waitara block--shockingly managed; don't half like the look of
things. Heard of it, I suppose?"
"Yes, indeed. I witnessed a passage of arms also between one of the
Maori deputation and a drunken white man. It appeared to me significant
of the temper of the native population."
"D----d bad temper generally. Touchy first, and dangerous, not to say
bloodthirsty, afterwards. Queer people."
"In some respects, certainly. But is there no way of persuading them to
sell their land? It would be better for them and everybody else not to
lock up this fertile country."
"Of course there is, if you go the right way about it. But can't be
done by main force. Wants brains and straight going. That's what we're
short of. Governor right enough, if it comes to that, but been 'had' in
this last affair."
"The Waitara block?"
"Precisely. I see you're getting colonized. Remember what Bailey Junior
said about Mrs. Todgers' fish?"
"'Don't eat none of it?' I remember. But how does that apply?"
"Just this much. Don't you touch an acre of that rich and well-watered
area, if you get it for nothing. There'll be bloodshed over it, take my
word. And carrying on Master Bailey's warning, any eating done on the
premises is more likely than not to be at the expense, literally and
_personally_, of the incautious purchaser."
"In my--I was going to say, in my opinion--but I refrain, being
unable to form one. But perhaps I may go so far as to quote old
colonists--that there is certain to be trouble if this so-called
purchase is attempted to be carried out. At this stage could it not be
prevented?"
"Most certainly it could; but when a policy has been weak up to a
certain point, the responsible head is apt to square the account by
being obstinate in the wrong place. That's the matter now."
"And the end?"
"God only knows. If the Government persists in pushing through this
bogus sale, against the warnings of Te Rangitake--who, in addition to
his being a high chief, and the largest holder in this said block, is
a deuced ugly customer--I'll lay twenty to one that there'll be the
devil to pay."
"But the Government surely won't call out the troops in the face of the
reports of Busby and McLean, and the opinion of Maning, anent native
titles?"
"People of ordinary sense would think so, but they're 'running amok'
just now, and what between the Company, the Provincial Council, the
Ministry, and the Governor, who has been over-persuaded or duped in
the matter, I believe that war, and nothing else, will be the outcome.
The British Government has acquired much territory in different parts
of the world, but this is going to be one of the biggest land-bills in
men and money that Old England ever drew cheque for. That's what I'm
telling my directors at home, and I hope they'll like the news."
Here Mr. Slyde resumed his pen, and with a brief adieu the chance
friends separated.
* * * * *
Discovering from reliable sources that nothing in the way of battle,
murder, and sudden death was likely to take place for a few weeks, Mr.
Massinger decided that he would pay a visit to those wondrous lakes of
which he had heard and read. He had pictured in his mind, how often,
the strange aspect of a country where snow-crowned mountains or active
volcanoes looked down upon Nature's daring colour-effects dashed off
in her most fantastic moods; where the central fires of the globe sent
up their steam in jets, and the angry gnome, "the mid-earth's swarthy
child," still murmured audibly; where boiling fountains hissed and
gurgled, unchilled by the wintry blast; where fairy terraces, lustrous
in lace-like tracery, lay shining, translucent, under summer moon or
winter dawn; where the unsophisticated inhabitants of this weird and
magical region, all ignorant of the clothes philosophy, revelled from
morn to eve in the luxurious warmth of medicated baths, curative of all
the ills that flesh is heir to.
When he communicated his intentions as to visiting the far-famed land
of the geyser and the fumarole to his friends, they all advised him to
make the journey without delay.
"It is one of the wonders of the world, and by no means the least,"
said Mr. Lochiel. "I thank God that I have seen it; and though I have
travelled much in other lands, I have never beheld the place that
equals that strange and grand landscape, terrible even in its beauty.
The delicate loveliness of the pink and white terraces 'beggars all
description.' I shall not attempt it. They alone are well worth coming
from the other end of the world to see."
"And I wouldn't delay either," said Captain Macdonald. "This Waitara
business may bring on war at any time, and then no white man, except a
missionary, is safe--hardly he, indeed."
"I will start next week," said Massinger, "if I can get a horse and
guide. I should never forgive myself if I lost the chance by delay."
"Horses of any kind you can pick up at the bazaar within an hour," said
Mr. Lochiel; "and I will send you a guide who could find his way to
Taupo in the dark. It is scarcely a road to travel alone just now, and
the forest tracks are neither easy to keep nor to find again when lost.
The rivers, too, are of a violent nature, and dangerous unless you know
the fords."
Acting upon this information and the advice so freely tendered,
Mr. Massinger at once bought himself a horse. The roads being
rough--indeed, mostly in a state of nature, as he was informed--and
a certain amount of wearing apparel and provisions being absolutely
necessary, he looked less to the paces and appearance of the animal
than to its strength and substance. A guide, too, was essential, as in
a country where the primeval forest was almost impracticable in places,
where the ice-cold rivers were without fords often, without bridges
always, local knowledge was indispensable. He was fortunate in one
respect, as he fell across a stout half-bred grey mare at a moderate
price.
Something was said to him about the danger of travelling among the
wilder tribes of the north without protection, or even a comrade of his
own race; to which he made answer that he had not come all that way to
lead a feather-bed life. Whatever risk other men encountered, he felt
equal to. So, with the good wishes of all whom he had met since his
landing, he prepared to depart.
Mr. Slyde's parting injunction was, "Stand up to these Maori beggars,
and talk as if you owned the island. They know a gentleman when they
see one, and they hate anything like distrust or double-dealing. Unless
war is declared while you are away, you will be as safe as in town
here; in some respects perhaps safer. _Au revoir._"
In New Zealand at that time, and, indeed, long afterwards, people
were so accustomed to the sight of the emigrant Briton, with his
thick boots, his rough tweeds, Crimean shirt, and brand-new valise or
saddlebags, that such an apparition hardly excited more surprise than
in the Australian colonies. There, a hundred years of colonization have
settled the race in personal habitudes descriptive of every shade of
road travel, town dwelling, ordinary wayfaring or desert exploration.
One glance there is sufficient to determine, not only the station in
life, but the immediate business or occupation of the stranger. And
so full and continuous had been the stream of emigration poured into
New Zealand of late years, that the ultra-British rig excited no more
remark than that of the tweed-clad tourist in the Highlands. Even the
"garb of old Gaul," which the clansmen from Aberfoil or Glengarry
not infrequently sported, as useful, dignified, and ornamental, only
received a passing glance, or gave rise to a transient observation from
a native as to the peculiar description of lunacy to which the pakehas
were subject.
When, therefore, Roland Massinger left Auckland one fine morning,
riding his gallant grey, with the trusty double-barrel on his shoulder,
a navy revolver in his belt, and a miscellaneous assortment of useful
articles dispersed about himself and his charger, no one seemed
disposed to remark unnecessarily, or to make jeering remarks upon his
outfit.
A day or two before starting, Massinger received a note in a strange
handwriting, which ran as follows:--
"Auckland, 14, Shortland Street,
"Wednesday.
"DEAR SIR,
"My old friend Dr. Lochiel has, I believe, recommended me to you as a
guide for the trip to Rotorua and Rotomahana.
"I know the country well, and shall be glad to act, if we can
arrange. I don't say that it is too safe in the present state of
native feeling, but that is for you to judge. I shall have the
pleasure of calling upon you tomorrow morning.
"Yours truly,
"ALBERT WARWICK.
"R. Massinger, Esq."
"Why, I thought Dr. Lochiel told me that the guide was a half-caste,"
said he to himself. "Very well written and expressed. Some men I know,
from English public schools, too, could not have written such a note to
save their lives. However, I suppose he got some one to write it for
him."
He had finished his breakfast, and was digesting it and the contents
of the _New Zealand Herald_, besides trying to reconcile conflicting
statements as to the Native Lands Policy, when a visitor was announced.
"Mr. Massinger, I believe," said the stranger, bowing. "My name is
Warwick; I presume you received my note yesterday?"
For one moment that gentleman's self-possession almost failed him, but
he recovered himself in time to murmur an assent and ask the stranger
to take a chair. There was some reason for his surprise.
He saw before him a very good-looking, well-dressed man of about his
own age, turned out much as he had often been himself for a day's
shooting. A Norfolk jacket, with knickerbockers and worsted stockings,
these last exhibiting a volume of muscular calf, above laced-up
shooting-boots of great strength and thickness of sole. A wide-brimmed
felt hat, and a Crimean shirt, completed attire which was eminently
appropriate and serviceable.
"You know the people and the country, as well as the route to these
far-famed lakes?" he inquired.
"From my boyhood," answered this perplexing personage, with a perfectly
correct, even finished accent, "I have been familiar with both. We have
relatives in the Ngapuhi tribe, and I am always glad of an excuse to
see some wild life among them. I have occasionally acted as guide to
parties of tourists, and not so long ago to His Excellency the Governor
and his staff."
"And your remuneration?" queried the tourist, thinking it wise to
settle that important question off-hand.
"Oh, say a guinea a day and expenses paid," replied the stranger, in
airy, off-hand fashion, as if the trifling amount was hardly worth
mentioning. "That is my usual fee. I am fond of these expeditions
myself, and in pleasant company; but that one must live, I should be
quite willing to go with you for nothing."
"That, of course, is not to be thought of. But it will be an added
pleasure to have a companion from whom I can gain information and share
a novel experience."
"Thanks very much," said Mr. Warwick, bowing; "and for the baggage, if
I might advise, the least possible quantity that you can do with. All
beyond will encumber you in the sort of trail before us. I should like
to superintend the packing."
"Very grateful, if you will," said Massinger. "Perhaps you would
not mind breakfasting with me tomorrow; we could start directly
afterwards."
"Most happy. In that case, I shall be here at sunrise, which will give
time to arrange the pack, and we need lose none of the best part of the
day."
So much being understood, Mr. Warwick bowed himself out, leaving his
employer in a state of suppressed astonishment.
"The land of wonders, indeed!" he soliloquized. "The people, as well
as the land, seem mysteries and enigmas. Only to look at this man is a
revelation. What a handsome fellow he is!--no darker than a Spaniard,
with regular features and a splendid figure. He would throw into
the shade many of the curled darlings of the old land. One of his
descendants, having taken high honours at Christ Church University, is
obviously the man Macaulay had in his mind when he created the immortal
New Zealander on London Bridge. His accent, his manner, his whole
bearing, quiet, dignified, easy. Why, he has quite English club form!
And where can he have got it? At any rate, there will be some one to
talk to on the way, and as he is a master of Maori as well as English,
he will be invaluable as an interpreter."
Preliminaries are hateful things at best, but after the usual
hindrances a start was made tolerably early in the day, and ere long
our hero was inducted into the peculiarities of forest wayfaring, as at
that time practised in New Zealand.
He had scorned the idea of performing any part of it by sea or coach,
having heard that all the pioneers, aristocratic or otherwise, had been
noted for their pedestrian prowess.
So, with Warwick leading the way with the packhorse, and he himself
doughtily surmounting rock or log, or thrusting between brambles and
climbers, he realized that he was at length actively engaged in the
adventurous experiences he had come so far to seek.
They did not always keep to the rude highways, or accepted tracks of
ordinary travellers; Warwick seemed, without bestowing thought or care
upon the matter, to journey upon a line of his own. It invariably
turned out to be the correct one, as it cut off angles and shortened
the distances, always striking points on the main trail which he had
previously described. All the available stopping-places on the road
were thoroughly well known to him, and between the more desirable
inns and accommodation houses, at all of which Warwick was evidently
the _bienvenu_, and the historical localities near which Massinger
was prone to linger, no great progress was made. However, time being
no object, they wandered along in a leisurely and satisfactory way,
Massinger congratulating himself again and again on his good fortune in
having secured such a guide and companion.
At Mercer, on their third day out, Mr. Massinger was gladdened with
his first sight of the Waikato, that noble river around which so many
legends have been woven, on whose banks so much blood has been shed, on
whose broad bosom the whale-boat has succeeded the canoe, the steamer
the whale-boat. His spirits rose to enthusiasm as they traversed the
country between the river and the lakes of Waikare and Rangarui. While
at Taupiri, he marked the groves--actual groves, as he exclaimed--of
peach and cherry trees planted by the missionaries in past days. Then
leaving the river, they entered on the great Waikato plain.
"All this is very pleasant," he said one morning; "though, but for
the absence of red-tiled farmhouses and smock-wearing yokels, I
might as well be back in Herefordshire. What I am dying to see, is a
decent-sized village--_kainga_, don't you call it?--where I may see the
noble Maori with his _meremere_, his _pah_, and his _wharepuni_, in
all his pristine glory unsullied by pakeha companionship."
"I think I can manage that for you," replied Warwick, with an amused
smile, "between here and Oxford."
"What, more England?" said Massinger. "Why not Clapham and Paddington
at once?"
"Well, you must bear with Lichfield," continued Warwick. "We can turn
off there and make for Taupo. Before we get there, I can promise you
one real Maori settlement, as well as another rather more important, at
Taupo on the lake."
"And a chief?" queried the wayfarer. "I must have chiefs. A real
Rangatira."
"I believe Waka Nene, warrior, high chief, and ally of England, is on
a visit at the first one we come to," said the guide, "and he should
satisfy your taste for Maori life."
Their pathway was narrow, chiefly bordered by high ferns, various kinds
of low-growing bushes, and when the forest was reached, occasionally
blocked by fallen timber, which necessitated a considerable detour,
not always accomplished without difficulty, and obstacles which seemed
to multiply the fatigues of the journey. Still, the wondrous beauty of
the primeval forest had fully repaid him for all difficulties which
nature placed in their way. Hundreds of feet overhead, almost hiding
the rays of the autumnal sun, and causing Massinger to throw back his
head to gaze at their lofty coronets of foliage, rose the royal ranks
of the Kauri, the Totara, the Rimu, and the Kahikatea. Unlike the less
o'er-shadowed forests in Australia described in his premigratory course
of reading, there was but little herbage to be seen between the giants
of that unconquered woodland. Ferns, trailers, thorn bushes, often
breast-high, more or less aggressive, climbers and parasites, filled up
all space beneath the columnar trunks which stretched so far and wide.
It could easily be imagined how great an advantage the native warrior,
but little encumbered with clothes, and active as the panther, had
over the heavily armed, heavily clothed soldier of the regular forces.
A fair, though not accurate shot at short range, practically almost
invisible, the native is trained to take advantage of every description
of covert. What chance, then, Massinger thought, would British regulars
have against the guerilla tactics of this stubborn, fearless, yet
crafty race?
As happened to many a gallant British soldier in the American
revolutionary war, it might be a brave man's lot to be shot by a boy
of fourteen, safely bestowed behind a fallen tree, or protected by a
thicket whence he could empty his rifle at the fully exposed ranks of
the pakeha. Though active, and fond of strong exercise of all kinds,
Massinger was by no means sorry when his guide halted by the side
of a gurgling stream, and intimated that they would here halt for
refreshment. Rows of that magnificent fern, _Dicksonia_, fully thirty
feet in height, towered over the banks of the rushing streamlet; a
level patch of verdure near the bank provided a tempting lounge, as
well as a table on which to arrange their humble meal. There reclining,
the wayfarer from a far land reflected approvingly on the first stages
of a journey which already promised a world of novel and mysterious
experiences. And now a new experience awaited him.
Rested and refreshed, they moved on till towards evening, when Warwick,
after following the path which led to the brow of a steep hill,
stopped and invited his companion to look around. Far in the distance
loomed the curved shoulder of a snow-crowned mountain. The ocean again
rose to view. A winding river threaded the fields and pastures of a
broad meadow. Tiny columns of smoke ascended from a collection of
reed-constructed cabins. And with a distinct relaxation of feature, the
guide pronounced the word _Kainga_--"Here is our stage for the night."
It was, indeed, a native village, or more strictly speaking, a
"township." For there were, besides a considerable population,
distinctive and representative features which in ancient Britain would
have entitled it to the appellation of a _castrum_--witness Doncaster,
Colchester, Winchester, and the like.
Above the alluvial flat, on the scarped and terraced hill, rose the
_pah_, or fortress proper--now in good working, that is, warlike order.
"Why, it's a castle!" exclaimed Massinger. "I had no idea that the
natives did things in this style. I doubt whether the ancient Britons
had one like this to check the Roman advance. Certainly they had no
rifle-pits. Fancy climbing up these precipices to find a double line of
desperate warriors at the top!"
"All the same, it was taken once, after a fairly long siege; and a
fine, bloodthirsty affair it was, by all accounts," said Warwick. "But
the garrison had been weakened."
"In what way?"
"The water gave out; food was short also. That they could have borne,
but they had nothing to drink for days before they gave in."
"This great fortress, for such it was" (wrote an eye-witness), "was
constructed by this singular people with due attention to the canons of
strategic fortification. It stood on a peak two thousand feet high, on
the summit of a tortuous forest range, girt on each side by precipitous
gorges and rugged intervening eminences.
"Triple lines of palisading guarded the front, while the crest of the
ridge was narrowed in wedge-like form to the rear of the _pah_. The
outer parapet, seven feet high, extended on each side to the edge of
the range, but was formed with angles near its junction with the cliff,
in order to cover completely an attacking party. The inner parapet,
more than twelve feet high, was guarded by sandbag loopholes to enable
the garrison to fire in safety. Covered ways, from parapet to parapet,
and pit to pit, protected the garrison in their movements."
This was one of the sights which he had "come out into the wilderness
for to see"--specially and in spite of its being a tolerably large
and important _hapu_, or section of the great Ngatiawa tribe, with
whom relations were certainly strained. His adventurous soul was
stirred within him, as he marked the position of the _wharepuni_, or
council-hall, imposing in size and ornamentation, elaborate though
rude; the clustering _whares_ or wigwams, each containing the family
unit complete; with men, women, and children, dogs and ponies, straying
about in careless intermixture; the warriors of the tribe holding aloof
in haughty independence, the "grave and reverend seigneurs" sitting in
a circle, indulging in converse--doubtless as to matters of state. It
became increasingly apparent to his mind that the affairs of such a
race deserved all the consideration which the most experienced, just,
and intelligent legislators could bestow.
As they approached, the stranger could observe that a certain degree
of excitement had already commenced to make itself visible. The men
who had been sitting arose, and those who were already standing,
relinquished their attitudes of dignified ease for those of watchful
attention, not unmingled with suspicion. The women left their work or
play (for among the younger ones several games of skill or address were
evidently in progress) and joined the expectant crowd.
Male and female, young and old, there could hardly have been less than
three hundred people gathered together on the comparatively small
plateau. From their point of view it had exceptional advantages, and
had doubtless been selected with foresight and judgment. Overlooking
the river, winding through a fertile meadow, which showed by its
careful and intense cultivation how the principal food-supply of the
tribe was furnished, it was protected by the almost perpendicular
river-bank, of great height, from sudden assault. An undulating stretch
of open or timbered country filled in the foreground, while in the dim
distance rose the giant form of Tongariro, cloud-capped, menacing,
in dread majesty and sublimity, and but a few miles to the eastward,
calm in the fading light, lay the placid waters of a lake. Strangely
beautiful as was the whole landscape, wanting no element which in other
lands excites wonder or arouses admiration, there was yet a feeling
of undefined doubt, amounting to suspicion of evil, as his eye roved
over the unfamiliar scene. This was confirmed, even deepened, as a
geyser between them and the lake suddenly shot to a height of fifty or
sixty feet in the air, while a hitherto unsuspected fumarole sent its
smoke-columns towards the firmament. Yet not a head was turned, not a
movement made by the group, "native and to the manner born." Geysers
and fumaroles were part of their daily life, it would appear.
"There may be differences of opinion as to the advantages of their
proximity," thought the white stranger, as he scanned the grand and
majestic features of the wide landscape before him, "but none can deny
their sublimity." He could scarce refrain from exclaiming aloud--
"Lives there the man with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said," etc.
If he had carried out the unspoken thought he would have raised
himself in the estimation of his newly found acquaintances, as no
nation has had a higher appreciation of elocutionary effort; and a
free translation by his guide would have doubtless confirmed the
_entente cordiale_. As it was, however, the few sentences uttered by
his companion, in which, among others, he recognized the words Pakeha,
Rangatira, and Mata Kawana, were sufficiently satisfactory. This
was, of course, after the formal greeting of "_Haere mai!_" had been
pronounced by the elders and principal personages of the assembly, as
well as by all the women, and the rank and file.
A venerable and imposing-looking personage, apparently of great
age, approached to greet the strangers, and, after exchanging a few
sentences of an interrogatory nature, pointed the way to an unoccupied
_whare_ of larger dimensions than the others. In this, Mr. Massinger
was told, through the interpreter, to place his possessions, and to
consider himself at home for the present. An adjoining tenement was
indicated, in a less formal way, as provided for his companion, the
difference of their positions being accurately understood. Indeed,
the socialists of the day would be rather scandalized at the gulf
which separates the Maori aristocrat, or _rangatira_, from the "common
people" (if one may use such an expression) of the tribe.
The _rangatira_ was, indeed, a personage of no ordinary distinction.
Served from his childhood by his "inferiors," in the most true and
literal sense of the word; waited upon with deference, mingled with
apprehension, by the women, the slaves and the rank and file of the
tribal section, or _hapu_, to which he was born, no wonder that he grew
up with the traditional qualities imputed to the mediæval aristocrat.
He was the robber-baron of the Rhine; he was the untrammelled seigneur
of the time of Louis Quatorze; he was the piratical Viking of the
Norse legends.
He raided his weaker neighbours; he descended upon defenceless coast
settlements; he organized carefully thought-out plans of invasion,
alliance, or reprisal. He was comprehensively merciless in war, slaying
and enslaving at will. But he possessed, by the strongest contemporary
evidence, the corresponding virtues. He was brave to recklessness,
chivalrous to a degree unknown in modern warfare, sending notice of
attack, in ordinary cases, before the commencement of hostilities; and,
in well-authenticated instances, even forwarding ammunition to the
enemy who had run short of powder, invariably choosing death before
dishonour. And he was religious after his own fashion, recognizing
superior as well as inferior deities and supernatural personages, whom
it was important to honour and conciliate. He was at all times ready to
die for his principles, or in vindication of his dignity and hereditary
position.
Roland Massinger, when he found himself in full possession of the
_whare_, which had been floored with clean fern, and even adorned with
several bunches of the beautiful crimson rata and pohutukawa blossoms,
began to revolve the strange chain of circumstances which had led to
his finding himself the honoured guest of this sub-section of a more
or less ferocious tribe. Nothing imaginable could be more romantic;
at the same time, the situation was, at the best, only comparatively
satisfactory. The smouldering blood-feud between the races, already
dangerously fanned by the mistaken action already referred to, might
blaze up at any moment. Then, the war-spirit once aroused, and the
boding scream of the _Hokioi_ thrilling all hearts, the position of an
isolated European would be doubtful, if not desperate.
Of the risks and chances thus involved, however, our adventurer made
but little account. He had not come so far to abstain from exploration
of this wonderful country. It was not worse than Africa, whence many an
Englishman had returned rich and distinguished. Whatever happened, he
was embarked in the enterprise; would go through with it at all hazards.
With the addition of a small contribution from his store of provisions
to the _kumera_, pork and potatoes, together with a great dish of
_peppis_, or cockles, supplied in clean flat baskets, he made a
satisfactory meal, concluding, of course, with a pannikin of tea. He
had arranged his rug and blankets at one side of his rude chamber, and,
being reasonably tired with the day's journey, looked forward to a
night's rest of a superior description.
He walked a few steps from the door, and, lighting his pipe, gazed
upon the scene before him. The moon, nearly full, lighted up the
river, the meadow, the distant mountain, the dark-hued forest. No
civilized habitation was visible. No sound broke the stillness of
the night, save the murmuring voices of the dwellers in this strange
settlement of primitive humanity. Habitudes common to all societies,
rude or civilized, were not wanting. Women talked and laughed, children
prattled or lamented, as the case might be. There was the narrator of
events, the wandering minstrel, the troubadour or "jongleur" of this
later Arcadia, with his circle of interested listeners. The boys and
girls played at games, or walked in friendly converse, much as those
of their age do in all countries. The men were grave or gay, earnest
or indifferent, as elsewhere. Occasionally he caught 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 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_, 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."
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 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 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, 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.