THE STORM BURSTS
The gloom which hung over the fo'c'sle when day at length dawned was
in no wise lightened by the futility of all efforts to discover the
cause of the weird sounds of the night. George was, perhaps, the
only one who had not actually attributed the discordant din to a
supernatural source; but since more than one uncommonly odd happening
had chanced of late, even he would have found it a relief to be
assured upon one point, no matter what.
As the day wore towards evening and the _Stella_ neared the coast,
the Maoris crowded into the bows, laughing and singing, as the deep
blue line of hills gradually took on natural colours, and showed as
forest-clad slopes, fronted by bare, frowning cliffs. Nor were the
whites less elated at the approach of the hour of parting, for they
were anxious to be relieved of an enforced service, not only irksome
in itself, but grown to be fraught with positive danger.
Te Karearea intended to disembark shortly before sunset at
Whareongaonga, a point some fifteen miles south of the Bay of
Turanga, or Poverty Bay, as Captain Cook had named it, and thence to
march inland and disappear in the dense bush which stretched for
miles towards the north. As if to forestall any tricks on the part
of the white sailors, the brig was kept swinging from one tack to the
other all through the afternoon, keeping always a couple of miles off
shore, and George, who was using his eyes, liked the look of things
less and less; for all the men of the chief's company, fully armed,
kept the deck during the whole of the day. Seizing an opportunity,
he communicated his fears to Bigham.
'Pooh! You're always looking for bogies, Mr. 'Aughton,' was the
mate's sneering reply. 'You don't see me grizzling.'
'You were not very far from grizzling, as you call it, last night,'
George was stung to retort.
'That was very different,' protested the mate, flushing through his
weather-beaten skin. You weren't too keen yourself about going on
deck.'
'You are right,' George admitted frankly. 'I don't think that I ever
was so frightened in my life--and by a _mere_ sound, too.'
This conquered Bigham. 'Well, you didn't act so,' he said; 'and that
sound was worse than any flesh-and-blood thing, however terrifying.
Yet you faced it, whatever it was. No,' affirmed Bigham; 'I never
meant to hint as you was wanting in pluck, sir. All I meant was as I
don't think the niggers will try on any games, for I judge they'll be
only too glad to get rid of us.
George assented, but without conviction.
'Any way, sir, you'll admit they haven't treated us as bad as might
have been expected.' He made a wry face, recollecting his recent
failure.
'True; but even at the eleventh hour they could hardly have got on
without us, had the weather changed, or---- However, let that go.
One thing I will ask of you. Should any of them offer provocation,
take no notice. All we want is to be well rid of them.'
'You are right, sir,' assented Bigham; 'and you have been right all
along. I'll warn the men.' Which, for a Lancashire man, was a very
notable surrender.
Greatly relieved, George turned from the mate to find Te Karearea at
his elbow, all smiles and courtesy. 'We part soon, Hortoni,' he
began, 'and the Maori will again set foot in his own land, whence the
Pakeha unjustly drove him.'
[Illustration: George turned from the mate to find Te Karearea at his
elbow. (page 79).]
Resentment still smouldered in George at the insolent proposal made
to him, but, mindful of his own advice to Bigham, he answered
lightly: 'Possibly the Pakeha may endeavour to repeat his
performance.'
'When a bird has screamed to the eagle the whereabouts of the hawk?'
queried the chief, grinning.
'Oh, let us have peace for the short time we are to be together,'
pleaded George. 'You have not treated us badly. We will remember
that and forget the rest.'
'So be it,' agreed the chief, and took himself off as he had come,
smiling.
The hour arrived at last, and the brig, after a final tack, stood in
close to the shore and dropped her anchor. The boats were got away
and the women rowed ashore, but George noticed with misgiving that
the men were distributed in scattered groups among the sailors, six
or seven to each white man. He himself was separated by some ten
feet or so from the nearest man of his own colour, and between them
were as many Maoris. Bigham was leaning on the starboard rail,
endeavouring to chat with those about him; but the brown men paid
little heed to what he said, for their eyes were ever screwing this
way and that, and their faces wore the strained, expectant look of
those who await an assured crisis.
Staring hard at Bigham, George managed to flash an eye-signal, 'Be on
your guard!' and the mate stiffened from his lounging attitude and
laid his hand carelessly upon a belaying pin. Nearer and nearer drew
the returning boats, and at last, as they grated against the side, Te
Karearea, who had been leaning contemplatively against the mainmast,
raised his right hand.
For one instant there was tense silence. Then this was shattered by
a wild and deafening yell, which the hills gave back in a hundred
diminishing echoes, and, as the Maoris rushed towards the side, a
young chief, Te Pouri--the Melancholy One--stumbled heavily against
one of the sailors. The man retaliated with a sweep of his arm which
sent Te Pouri reeling backwards into collision with a second seaman.
This one, taking his cue from his messmate, shoved the Maori forward
with such violence that he must have fallen, but for the support of
the crowd into which he dived.
The incident passed in a flash, but as Te Pouri recovered his
balance, another yell arose--this time a howl of hate, charged with
the lust of vengeance long deferred--and in a moment sharp spears
stabbed this way and that, piercing the shrinking flesh, while club
and axe, whirled aloft by sinewy arms, fell with sickening thud upon
the yielding bone.
The man who had heedlessly begun the trouble was the first to go
down, split from crown to chin by a terrible stroke of Te Pouri's
long-handled tomahawk. Then George, who for a second had stood in
frozen horror at the awful suddenness of the change, leaped into the
press, striking right and left with his fists.
Even in the hot excitement of the fight, he noticed with dull
surprise that the Maoris merely ducked to avoid, or warded off his
blows as best they could, without attempting to harm him. Ahead of
him he could see Bigham, belaying-pin in hand, smashing a path
through the packed brown forms, while, ringing high above the din of
conflict, he heard the voice of Te Karearea shrieking to his men to
hold their hands.
But George had scant time for observation, or for thought over the
inexplicable attitude of Te Karearea, whom he had certainly credited
with engineering this massacre; for scarcely had he rushed into the
thick of the fray, than he was pulled down upon his back and pinned
to the deck by sheer weight of numbers.
The next thing he saw was his greenstone club in the hands of Te
Karearea, who grinned at him, crying: 'Fear nought, Hortoni. I will
stop these dogs in their worrying.' With which he bounded into the
fight, aiming a blow at one of his own men which would certainly have
left the fellow few brains to think with, had he not ducked at the
critical moment, with the result that Te Karearea's _mere_, cleaving
the air downwards, met with terrific shock the upward sweep of
Bigham's belaying-pin.
So severe was the jar, that the club, unsecured by its wrist-loop,
flew out of Te Karearea's hand over the side, and fell into the
water, just as Bigham, last survivor of the miserable crew, leaped
through the open gangway into the sea. There was an instant swirl of
lithe black bodies below the surface, and with a shrill yell the mate
sank beneath the waves and was seen no more.
With a loud cry of wrath and despair Te Karearea rushed to the
gangway, and at his word a dozen tall fellows sprang upon the rail
and made ready to dive after the _mere_. But a number of dark,
triangular fins rose slowly to the surface, and the men instantly
jumped to the deck, nor could all Te Karearea's prayers and threats
avail to induce them to risk entering Reinga through such dreadful
portals. Whereupon, the chief sullenly ordered half a dozen of them
into a boat with instructions to drag the sea-bottom until the
greenstone club should be recovered. First, however, the dead bodies
of the sailors, along with the corpse of an old Maori, who had been
somehow crushed to death in the fight, were hove overboard, and
shortly afterwards guns were fired into the water, the surface
flogged with oars, and hideous noises raised to scare away the
watchful sharks, which was now less difficult to do. But, though
dredgers and divers did their best, the whereabouts of the _mere_
remained undiscovered.
The whole terrible scene had been enacted with frightful swiftness,
and, notwithstanding Te Karearea's apparent efforts to restrain his
men, and his solicitude for his captive's welfare--which the latter
was far from understanding--George felt convinced that the crafty
Maori was at the bottom of this and the other tragedies which had
marked the ill-omened voyage of the _Stella_.
While the interest of all was centred upon those who were searching
for the greenstone _mere_, George became conscious of a lightening of
the top-weights, and instantly put all his strength into an upward
heave, which sent the fellow who was sitting upon him rolling on the
deck, while, at the same moment, he jerked himself free from the
others, sprang up, and made a dash for the gangway.
With loud yells the Maoris closed in upon him from all sides, but,
though the odds were all against him, the Englishman's fighting blood
was up; he struck hard and fast, and Te Pouri received such a
tremendous blow in the eye, that he danced and howled with the agony
of it. An instant later, with a look of fiendish malignity, he swept
through the press and came upon George from behind.
Within striking distance he stopped, swung up and poised the cruel
tomahawk, ready for the smashing downstroke which would have crashed
through scalp and skull and brain, when a piercing yell was heard,
and George, glancing in the direction of the sound, saw Te Karearea
bounding towards him, spear in rest.
Instinctively the young man swerved to one side as far as the
close-packed throng would allow, and the movement saved his life.
For just then the tomahawk smashed downwards, missing his head by a
bare inch, while the flat of it, fortunately, struck his shoulder
with such force as to send his arm numb to his side, and bring him to
his knees.
He was confusedly aware of swiftly parting brown bodies before the
onrush of the chief; he heard the soft thud of impact between spear
and flesh, a loud scream of mortal agony, and then the sky was
blotted out from his dazed eyes as a heavy body toppled upon him,
crushing him down, and forcing his head with fearful violence against
the deck. Then for a space he knew no more.
No one ventured to protest against this summary execution; for their
chief's word was law, and they knew it. All were aware that Te Pouri
had disobeyed Te Karearea's order that, at whatever cost, Hortoni
should be spared, and, as death was the penalty of disobedience,
death, swift and inexorable, had been meted out to him.
When George came to his senses some hours later, he was in a litter,
being carried he knew not whither; but, though it was too dark to
make out details, it was clear that the coast had been left behind,
and that Te Karearea had set out for his destination--wherever that
might be--under the friendly cover of night.
As the dreadful scenes of the past afternoon came vividly back to
him, the ghastly memories so distressed George that presently he
became feverish, moving restlessly upon his litter, and reviewing in
mild delirium the varied events of the voyage and its horrible
conclusion. But ere long the tangled skein of thought knotted
suddenly, and, soothed by the pure, fragrant air of the bush, the
gentle, swinging motion, and the soft, monotonous chant of the
bearers, he fell into a sound, refreshing sleep.
Morning at length shot up over the tall pines which rose erect and
towering without a branch for a hundred feet and more, and the litter
was set down at the base of a gigantic tree-fern, whose bright green
fronds spread tent-wise over the invalid, who still slept, unaware of
the gentle hands which now, as at intervals during the march, renewed
the cool dressings which had soothed his pain and calmed his shaken
brain.
But when George at last opened his eyes, a pretty Maori girl came
running up, and with great solicitude inquired after his welfare.
The young man thanked her and tried to rise, but fell back, giddy and
confused, whereupon the girl renewed the dressings and warned him to
lie still until breakfast was ready. He followed her sound advice,
and, when he had eaten what he could of the food she presently served
upon wooden platters, felt decidedly better.
The Maoris had marched throughout the greater part of the night, and
now they sprawled upon the soft green grass in restful attitudes,
some of them asleep, others busily oiling the locks of the rifles and
revolvers they had looted from the brig, while others again were
breakfasting and chatting with a light-hearted gaiety which gave
little suggestion of the bloody drama of the previous day.
As his mind cleared George began to review his position. His
weakness made it imperative that he should rest for the present, but
he determined to escape as soon as possible, and, after communicating
with his father--whose anxiety, he felt, must by this time be very
great--hunt up Terence's regiment and enlist without attracting the
notice of Colonel Cranstoun. Failing this last, he would join the
Rangers--but first of all he must get away.
Suddenly the maze of thought into which he had wandered took a new
turn, for he remembered to have seen Te Karearea charging down upon
him with levelled spear. Why, then, had the chief turned the point
of the weapon aside? He was sorely puzzled to discover the reason.
Of course he had no knowledge of the death of Te Pouri at the hands
of the chief; but, even had he known of it, the mystery would only
have deepened.
His reflections were cut short by the arrival of Te Karearea himself,
who saluted his prisoner in his customary courteous and dignified
way, and sincerely hoped that none but the most trifling consequences
would ensue from the injuries he had received.
Notwithstanding the disgust with which the chief inspired him, for he
believed him to be a wholesale murderer, George had too much tact to
show his feelings, and so, perhaps, ruin his chances. So he replied
politely to the chief's greeting.
'But I am not very clear about it all,' he added; 'for the last thing
I recall is the sight of you rushing at me with a levelled spear. So
how--how----' he shook his head, bewildered.
Te Karearea grinned at this, and hailing one of his lieutenants who
was passing, said:
'Speak, O Winata Pakaro, and tell Hortoni what befell as the light
went out of his eyes. I tell not the tale, Hortoni, for I know that
you distrust me--not without reason, perhaps, from your point of
view.' He nodded to his subordinate, who drew for George a vivid
word-picture of the events which had accompanied his downfall.
George had no choice but to believe the story, and he felt completely
mystified. Why should the possession of him be accounted so precious
that even the life of a valuable fighting-man was not allowed to
weigh down the scale against it?
But Te Karearea dismissed Winata Pakaro and broke in upon his
thoughts with a question which sent flying what little power of
comprehension was left to him. 'Have you yet recovered your _mere_,
Hortoni?' the chief inquired blandly.
George stared up at him. 'Are my wits wandering again?' he said.
'Do you seriously ask that question? You know as well as I do that
the greenstone club went to the bottom of the sea.'
'Nevertheless, I ask you whether you have yet recovered it,'
persisted the chief; whereat George, weakened by his accident, grew
peevish. 'Am I then a magician, O Te Karearea?' he snapped back.
Te Karearea's rich brown skin turned curiously sallow, and he
recoiled a step. 'Far be it from me to offend you, Hortoni,' he said
submissively. 'You are not a wizard if you say you are not. I do
but ask if you have got back your _mere_?'
'Why, you are saying it again!' roared George, whose head was aching
with the strain of so much excitement. 'Are you mad that you bother
me with such stupid questions? Do you think that I have the thing
about me? Wizard be hanged! I know your supersti---- Eh! What!
Well, I never! Here! Hi! Come back, Chief!' For Te Karearea,
offended, or scared, by this unusual outburst, was stalking off.
At George's hail he turned again, hesitated, and then hastened
eagerly to his captive's side.
As for George, his face was a study. The most unbounded astonishment
expressed itself in every line as he half-sat, half-reclined, with
the _mere_ of TUMATAUENGA laid loosely across his open palms.
'I know no more than you do where it came from,' he said, looking up
helplessly at the chief.
'Oh, of course not,' sneered Te Karearea. 'May be RANGI cast it into
your lap, or perchance TUMATAUENGA came and gave it you just now when
my back was turned. Anything is possible, for there it lies.'
Te Karearea'a face had grown hideous to behold. He rolled his eyes
until they appeared to be turned inside out, he poked out his tongue
until it nearly touched his chest, while bitter words came in
labouring grunts, as he shook his crooked hands impotently in the
air. At last by a mighty effort he controlled himself. 'But I knew
that it would return,' he muttered. 'Yes; I was sure of it.'
George, though utterly bewildered, was quick to see the advantage
which the recovery of the club carried with it, and now rather
regretted that he had so openly shown his astonishment. However, he
was quite safe in that regard, for, not to put too fine a point upon
it, Te Karearea regarded his disclaimer as a lie told for some
personal reason, and the appearance of the _mere_ itself as evidence
of strong magical powers on the part of Hortoni.
He was intensely annoyed that, once having gained possession of the
beautiful, mystic weapon, he should have lost it; but he had his game
to play, and it was no part of it to quarrel with his prisoner. So
he changed the subject, and, reverting to the question of parole,
said:
'Give me your word again, Hortoni, and you shall go out and come in
among us as though you were really one of ourselves.'
'I am obliged to you,' George returned sourly, not overpleased with
the compliment, which smacked rather too strongly of the
Pakeha-Maori. But he concluded to agree, since he could not hope to
escape until he had regained his strength, and so replied:
'I give you my parole for one week. At the end of that time we will
talk again.'
And Te Karearea, perforce content with this, withdrew.
Quite exhausted by all the excitement he had gone through, and
knowing that his coveted greenstone was safe while the aroma of
present magic clung to it, George lay down once more, and, after
vainly trying to explain how that which he had seen falling into the
sea should be found beneath his mats, once more forgot his puzzles
and his troubles in sleep.
He slept almost all round the clock, awaking next morning
considerably later than the sun. The march had evidently been
resumed during his long unconsciousness, and the litter was now set
behind a boulder on the top of a small hill, below which dense bush
spread out over a succession of smaller mounds to the valley. Food
and water had been placed near him, but not a Maori could be seen.
George, having breakfasted, felt much better, though still stiff and
sore, and presently the unusual silence and absence of all signs of
life struck him oddly, and he began to look about him.
'What can have become of all my rascals?' he wondered, and just then
the silence was stirred by a long wailing cry, which rose and fell
plaintively on the still air. 'A _weka_[1] calling to its mate,'
thought George, as the melancholy note sounded again in the depths of
the valley.
[1] _Ocydromus australis_, the wood-hen.
He began somewhat stiffly to descend the hill, when he was startled
by a harsh, imperative whisper close beside him: 'Lie down, Hortoni!
Quick, lie down!'
Then, as he stared this way and that, seeing no one, a lithe brown
form rose from the other side of the rock beside which he stood,
compelled him with heavy hand to the ground, and sank out of sight as
swiftly and noiselessly as it had arisen.
And as George, obedient to the pressure upon his shoulder, crouched
under the rock, a bullet flattened itself with sulky smack upon the
face of the boulder behind him, while, even as it dropped to the
ground, the crack of a rifle floated up from the valley.