THE DOOM OF THE HOUSE OF TE TURI
Terence opened his mouth to shout a warning to the sleepers to be up
and away, but, his bush training coming to his aid, he shut it with a
snap.
'I don't think that they have seen me,' he thought; 'but it is too
late to run now, at all events.'
He wondered why the advancing Maoris should exercise such caution
when, apparently, not a foe was near. 'It must be their way,' he
concluded; 'and as one never knows when----'
The unspoken words jumbled in his brain and his eyes grew round. Two
of the Maoris, crawling from point to point, had suddenly and
instantaneously disappeared, heads down and heels up.
'They have found it!' Terence muttered grimly. 'What a nuisance.'
He laid his hand on George's shoulders, who at once opened his eyes,
but lay perfectly still, mutely questioning.
'Maoris!' whispered Terence. 'The fern is full of them, and two of
them have tumbled into our underground world.'
'Bother take them!' murmured George. 'Let me have a look.'
He peered over the tall fern at a group of Maoris who were standing
up beside the spot at which their comrades had so mysteriously
vanished, and with grave gestures and puzzled frowns were discussing
the new situation. Their faces cleared and they grinned at one
another as muffled voices from below assured them that neither
_taipo_ nor _taniwha_ had swallowed their friends. Then they bent
down over the tangled mass of creepers and held a colloquy with the
imprisoned ones.
'They evidently know nothing about the place,' whispered George.
'How unfortunate that they should succeed where we have so often
failed. I think that we had better wake the others and creep away
into the bush while they are still absorbed with their find; for----
Oh, good heavens! Look at Paeroa! He is going to his death.'
For the Maori, his alert senses stirred by their low-voiced talk, had
awakened, risen to his knees, and peered over the fern at the
newcomers.
Even as George spoke he bounded to his feet, threw his hands above
his head and rushed towards the group of Maoris, shouting: '_Arawa!
Arawa! E tika ana!_--It's all right!--_Ka kitea te wahi i kimihia
mai ai e ratou!_--They have found the place we were looking
for!--_Kapai Arawa! Kapai Arawa!_ Hurrah for the Arawas!'
His long hair, dressed Hau-hau fashion, streamed behind him and,
before any one could intervene, he dashed into the midst of the
Arawas.
With a gasp of horror George ran for all he was worth. If at this
last moment Paeroa, the faithful Paeroa, should be---- The dreadful
thought was lost in the rush.
Already Paeroa was overpowered, his weak state allowing him no
possible chance against his stalwart foes. Utterly unmindful of the
British principle of sympathy for the under dog, two Arawas held him
by the arms, another grasped his long hair, pulling his head
backwards, while a fourth, with raised club, was about to dash out
his brains.
But with a rush George was among them and, ignoring ceremony, struck
right and left with his fists, upsetting the would-be slayer and
those who held Paeroa as well. Without an instant's delay Paeroa
scuttled into the bush, pending the adjustment of the dispute.
'Pardon, friends!' George said apologetically, turning his glance
upon two who stood ruefully rubbing their swollen noses. 'You were
about to kill the wrong man. That is Paeroa, who brought word of my
captivity.'
'And you are Hortoni?' queried a thin, lithe man who was evidently in
command. None of the Arawas seemed either surprised or resentful.
'It is so,' replied George. 'I have just escaped with Mura,
Kawainga, and Paeroa from the nest of the Hawk.'
'Mura! If you mean Tereni, he was slain after the fight at
Paparatu,' said the Arawa chief.
'No; he is here,' corrected George. 'Te Karearea meant to kill him
that night, but I came up in time to----'
'To stop them from shoving me through the gates of Reinga,' put in
Terence, bobbing up from the fern and airing his broken Maori. 'I am
very much alive, I assure you, Chief.' The Arawa leader and he
grinned cheerfully at one another.
'Don't you remember me?' went on Terence. 'You are Te Ingoa, who
imitated the Hau-hau cry that night at our bivouac.'
'Yes; I remember you, O Tereni,' replied the Arawa in English. 'You
told us of Hortoni, and how he had run away from the white-haired
chief.'
"The white-haired chief." George heard without understanding. 'What
are we to do, O Te Ingoa?' he asked. 'Even now Te Karearea scours
the bush for us with his young men.'
'While he scours the bush, we may clean up the _pah_, Hortoni,' the
Arawa replied sententiously. 'Two of my men have fallen down a hole
here. They say that there is quite a large space, but fear to go on
lest Taniwha should lurk at the other end. What am I to do?'
'There is indeed a _taipo_ at the other end,' George answered
gravely. 'It is in the form of a Hawk who devours women and little
children.' Then, as the Arawa's eyes gleamed with comprehension:
'Let me lead you through the passage, O Te Ingoa. The issue of this
hole is close by the _Pah_ of Death, more than half way up the hill.
There is the upper bridge to cross, but----'
'Lead on, Hortoni,' Te Ingoa interrupted excitedly. 'To us shall
fall the honour of clipping the Hawk's talons and blunting his beak.
The rest, with the white-haired chief, your father, are behind. I
will send a messenger to hurry them.'
George turned to Terence, who was smiling sympathetically at him.
'Colonel Cranstoun is evidently not far away,' he said. 'Te Ingoa
wishes to march forward. But don't you think we ought to wait until
the others come up?'
'Decidedly not,' replied Terence. 'Let these fellows do their own
killing. The white-haired chief, as they call him, will be better
out of this fuss.'
'I am not sure that the colonel would agree with you,' said George.
'Still, there are enough of us here, and it is a pity to waste
valuable lives.' He turned to the Arawa. 'The sooner we go the
better, Chief.'
'I am ready, Hortoni. Show us the way.'
Without more words George and Terence dropped into the hole--more
circumspectly than on the first occasion--followed by all of the
Arawas except three whom Te Ingoa sent upon the back track. Also, by
George's order Paeroa and Kawainga remained behind, for they were
thoroughly exhausted by their exertions.
When at last the contingent stood beneath the exit on the hillside it
was precisely six o'clock, an hour when ordinarily the _pah_ would
have been humming with the bustle of commencing day. On this day
there was bustle, indeed, but not of the usual kind.
Before disturbing the barricade which Te Karearea had for some reason
placed before the opening, Te Ingoa, his lieutenants, and the two
Pakehas held a final brief conference. George was for waiting until
night before delivering the attack, but the Arawa argued that he
would be unable to hold in his men, who were mad to get to grips with
Te Karearea, whose revolting cruelties had disgraced the name of
Maori.
'Then you will suffer terribly,' said George; 'for the place is
extraordinarily strong.'
'We shall of course lose a few as we cross the bridge and rush the
walls,' Te Ingoa agreed coolly. 'That is to be expected. All the
same, the Hawk's nest shall be harried this time, I promise you.'
'Well, I don't want to be a wet blanket,' said George, giving in.
'We two will do our best to help you.'
'I am sure of that,' Te Ingoa replied heartily, and shook hands,
English fashion. 'As you and Tereni know the lie of the land, you
had better go out first and reconnoitre.'
It was easy enough to displace the barricade and, as the boulders
were thrown aside and sounds from the outer world began to penetrate,
it was evident that something out of the common was afoot. For,
borne upon the morning wind, came the noise of distant shouting, the
snapping crackle of independent rifle fire, and the short, sullen
bark of revolvers. Then, as George and Terence hurled down the last
obstruction and excitedly pushed through the opening, the roar of a
heavy volley close at hand stunned their ears, and to their amazement
they saw the plain and hillside alive with men, fighting furiously,
and all, apparently, in the most extraordinary confusion.
'Come out!' shouted George. 'Hold back your men, though, until you
have seen this thing for yourself. I can't make it out.'
'I think I can,' cried Terence, jumping about in his excitement as Te
Ingoa joined them. 'The main body of your force has come up on the
heels of the advance and got between Te Karearea's rascals and the
_pah_. See--the walls are almost deserted.'
'You are right,' agreed Te Ingoa. 'Those are my _kupapas_ (volunteer
Maoris), and they are settling accounts with the Hau-haus.'
'What are you going to do?' George asked eagerly.
'And thus, almost without a blow struck at itself, falls the _Pah_ of
Death,' said Te Ingoa, half to himself. He waved his hand downwards.
'Ignorant of our approach--he could hardly be careless of it--Te
Karearea has allowed his men to get out of hand in his desire to
recover the greenstone club. One column of my fellows is busy with
the remnant of the garrison, the other is there by the river,
blocking the advance of the returning Hau-haus. What am I going to
do? Why, charge down the hill, take this lot in the rear, and then
join column number two in polishing off the fellows by the river. I
never expected such an easy job, I must say.'
'He talks like an Englishman,' observed Terence, as the Maori dived
below to summon his men, 'and he feels, like an Irishman, sorry that
he won't have enough fighting.'
'He may get as much as he cares for before all is done,' said George.
'All this is very unlike Te Karearea. I suspect a trick.'
'Well, down we go! Here come Te Ingoa and his merry men.' The whoop
Terence let out would have done credit to a Comanche. 'Hurrah!
Stick close to me, George. I believe the old Hawk has been caught
napping.'
It really was so. The crafty Te Karearea, unsettled by the escape of
his prisoners, and still more so by the disappearance of the
greenstone club, had allowed his men to get out of hand, and was now
paying heavily for his error. Perhaps, too, the words of the old
prophecy haunted him, and the hopelessness of averting the ruin of
his house still further unbalanced him.
At any rate, instead of playing tricks and laying ambuscades, there
he was on the hillside, fighting like a demon. As the comrades raced
down the slope in advance of Te Ingoa, the desperate Hau-hau turned
his head and saw them, and with a loud howl of fury sprang through
the press and made straight at them.
It was magnificently brave--one man charging two hundred--but the
upward rush of the Arawas to meet Te Ingoa bore back the Hau-haus,
and Te Karearea, shouting hateful words of vengeance, was swallowed
up in the recoiling wave of his own men. Another moment and the
Arawas, swooping down the hill, struck their prey, driving them back
upon the weapons of the Arawas below, and the Hau-haus, like the
hard, defiant quartz between the crushing hammer and the plate, were
smashed to pieces.
Armed only with his _mere_, George was able to do very little
execution, for the Hau-haus who recognised him gave him a wide berth.
However desperate a conflict may be with ordinary folk, there is
always a chance of escape; but when it comes to engaging a wizard
armed with a magical club, it is best to take no chances.
The slaughter was terrific, for the combat was in the old style, hand
to hand. Neither side had had time to reload, and while some swung
their guns by the barrel, others used their ramrods like rapiers,
thrusting viciously at eyes and throats. One wretch, pierced through
and through, rushed howling into the thick of it, the slender steel
rod, protruding front and back, wounding others and barring his own
progress, till he was mercifully slain with a blow from a bone _mere_.
'Come out of this,' George shouted to Terence, who was fighting back
to back with him. 'It is sickening. Let us go and help our folk by
the river. These fellows are done for.'
'Right!' Terence yelled back, sweeping his clubbed rifle round to
clear a path. His empty revolver had long ago been thrown in the
grinning face of a Hau-hau. 'Come on!' He rushed off, screeching
with excitement, under the impression that his friend was close
behind him.
So George had been at the start; but, as he ran, he heard a shout:
'Turn, Hortoni! Accursed Pakeha, I fear neither you nor your _mere_.
Stop and die!'
Without the least desire to accept this gracious invitation, which
resembled that of the famous Mrs. Brown to the duck, George turned
his head to find Pokeke rushing at him with levelled spear, his eyes
glowing and his mouth agape with hate.
That turn nearly cost George his life, for his foot slipped and he
fell heavily on his face. The long spear sped to its mark, but much
fighting had made Pokeke's hand unsteady. He missed George
altogether and, retaining too long his grasp of the shaft, turned a
half somersault and sprawled beside his intended victim.
Both of them were so shaken that they lay still for some seconds.
Pokeke was up first and, before George could rise, flung himself upon
him, grasping his hair and drawing back his head, while in his right
hand he raised his wooden _mere_ with which to give the _coup de
grâce_.
Now, if ever, the wonderful greenstone club ought to have shown its
power; but, alas! George had fallen with his arm under him, and
TUMATAUENGA'S _mere_ was jammed so tightly beneath his heavy body
that not even the war-god himself could charm it forth.
But, as the wooden club descended, the stock of a rifle, sweeping
horizontally, met it with such violence as to send it spinning many
yards away, while the brass-shod butt, continuing its swing, caught
Pokeke a frightful blow between the eyes, crushing in his skull.
'Not hurt?' shrieked Terence, whose face was flaming. 'Come on!' He
lugged George from the ground. 'Go first!' he screamed, his voice
cracking. 'I told you before we left Sydney that I couldn't trust
you out of my sight.' He was almost mad with the fierce joy of his
first battle.
'Where is the Hawk?' he sang out to George as they ran down the hill.
'Somewhere in the thick of it,' panted George. 'Haven't seen him
since the start. Come on!'
The combat on the hillside waned to a close; but as yet there had
been no concerted movement towards the river-bridge, where a much
smaller force of Arawas did battle with an outnumbering body of
Hau-haus. Still, every now and then an Arawa from the hill would
arrive and take a hand, so that matters were growing more equal as
the friends came racing across the plain.
'Pull up for a moment,' gasped George. 'If we don't get our wind we
shall be brained for a certainty. Where are the white soldiers and
Colonel Cranstoun?--Oh, God help us! Look at that!'
With a horrible fear at his heart he hurled himself towards the
bridge, at the far end of which two Pakehas were defending themselves
against a dozen Hau-haus. Both were elderly, while the hair of one
was snow-white; but their erect carriage, fearless demeanour, and the
manner in which they wielded their old-fashioned swords, occasionally
getting in a shot with the revolvers in their left hands, showed that
they were old soldiers, and quite accustomed to give a good account
of themselves.
The construction of the bridge gave them an advantage, and no doubt
they could have held their own against any frontal attack; but what
horrified George and Terence was the sight of Te Karearea, who with
four Hau-haus were hurrying to assail the two old soldiers from
behind.
He with his men and George with Terence were running along two sides
of a triangle, the bridge being the apex. If the chief reached it
first--No! George set his teeth and swore he should not.
'Father!' he shouted after one long indrawing of breath. 'Keep at
it! We are behind you!' For he feared that the noise of footsteps
racing up behind would disturb the attention of Colonel Haughton and
General Cantor, whose presence there he could in no way account for.
They were indeed the only white men with Te Ingoa, for Colonel
Cranstoun to his great annoyance had been called south. But he had
set the wheels in motion, and the friendlies, along with Colonel
Haughton and his brother-in-law, had marched against the _pah_.
George had presumed the "white-haired chief" to be Colonel Cranstoun,
never dreaming that his father and General Cantor had crossed the sea
in chase of him as soon as they learned that he was in New Zealand.
Te Karearea heard George's shout and grinned at him, shaking his
bloodstained _mere_. He was slightly in advance and running like a
deer.
'Aha! Hortoni, they told me up there who the white-haired chief
was,' he yelled. 'Give me the _mere_ of TUMATAUENGA, and I will call
off my men.'
'Take it, fiend!' shouted George, leaping across the narrowing apex
and aiming a furious blow at the chief, while Terence and the four
Hau-haus raced for the bridge. One of them Terence brained with his
rifle, but the other three dodged him and ran on, while he
despairingly toiled after them, knowing that he would be too late.
Then to his intense relief he heard the welcome 'wheep' of bullets
past his ears, and first one and then another of the Hau-haus rolled
over, dead or out of action. Two minutes more and a strong party of
Arawas under Te Ingoa himself swarmed round the old soldiers and slew
every man of the Hau-haus who were attacking them.
And now it was the turn of Colonel Haughton and General Cantor to be
anxious, for between George and Te Karearea a fearful combat raged.
The Hau-hau had parried the blow aimed at him, and the Englishman
himself had reeled back before a fierce counterstroke. For a moment
after they circled round one another, like two wrestlers seeking a
grip. Then with a shout they clashed together.
Disregarding his _mere_, which he allowed to hang from his wrist by
its loop, George fastened the strong fingers of his left hand round
the chief's sinewy throat, while with the other he clutched the fist
that closed round the club and bent the wrist backwards so
unmercifully that with a groan Te Karearea opened his fingers and let
his weapon fall. Then, writhing free, he flung his arms round George
and strove to throw him. The _mere_ of TUMATAUENGA slipped from the
dangling wrist and lay unheeded on the hard ground while the two
strong men fought for the possession of it.
Backwards and forwards they rocked and reeled, locked in what each
realised to be a death-grapple, neither yielding the slightest
advantage to the other. Arawas and whites looked on, amazed, unable
to help their champion, so quick and sudden were the turnings and
twistings of the combatants.
Suddenly George quitted his hold. But before Te Karearea could utter
the yell of triumph which sprang to his lips, he felt his long hair
seized from behind, his head jerked backwards with a force which
nearly broke his neck, and he fell, dragging George with him.
Over and over they rolled; but George, though he received some heavy
blows in the face, shifted his grip, but never loosed the hold he had
got of that long black hair.
Now his hands were on each side of Te Karearea's head, his fingers
tightened in the coarse locks, and with a supreme effort he rolled
the chief on his back and flung himself astride of him. Then,
drawing up the malevolent, grinning face till it was close to his
own, he dashed it from him with terrible force.
There was a dull, smacking sound, as if two stones had been brought
together. A fierce scream, strangled in its utterance, burst from
the chief, and his eyes gazed ragefully into the stern, flushed face
above him. Then their baleful light was suddenly extinguished, the
grinning teeth parted, the strong jaw dropped, the clinging hands
fell away.
Te Karearea, the back of his skull crushed like an eggshell against
the hard greenstone club, quivered for an instant and passed through
the gates to the waters of Reinga.
The man of "the strange, strong race"--the race of the Eagle--had
held to the _mere_ of TUMATAUENGA, and the doom of the House of Te
Turi had fallen.
* * * * * * *
What a lot they had to say to one another that night, as they sat
round the bivouac fire and watched the flames as they shot up from
the stockade and _whares_--for Te Ingoa had not left standing a
single stick of the _Pah_ of Death. The long day after the battle
was won had worn quickly to an end, for there was much to do, and
those who had come through the stress of the fight were now gathered
together, resting and celebrating their victory, each after his own
manner.
Around one fire sat Colonel Haughton and George, reconciled for all
time, and anxious only to please one another, Terence and General
Cantor, Kawainga, the faithful Paeroa and the Arawa chief, Te Ingoa,
who listened, absorbed, to the story of the adventures of the two
young Pakehas. The greenstone club, of course, came in for a
considerable share of attention, and Terence stoutly championed its
claim to magical powers.
'You can't explain how it came to be in your hand that first night on
board the _Stella_,' he declared. 'You can't account for the fact
that it got between you and Paeroa's club on the hillside over there.
You can't ex----'
'Look here, my son,' struck in George, smiling up into his father's
face, though he addressed Terence, 'the explanation of the whole
business lies in four words--"the Providence of God." Each time the
greenstone club came into play was a time of tremendous excitement,
and I have no doubt that I was too preoccupied to notice what I did
or did not do with regard to it. So encrusted with legend is the
_mere_ of TUMATAUENGA that, because I cannot remember exactly what I
did each time I used it, miraculous powers are at once attributed to
it.'
'So you make out that there was nothing extraordinary about it at
all,' said Terence, disappointed. 'Of course one does not expect
miracles nowadays.'
'Don't you, my boy?' interposed Colonel Haughton. 'God's providence
works miracles on our behalf almost daily. Is it not a miracle that,
after death has stared him in the face so often, I should have my
dear son back again? Was it not a miracle that when you stood with
the rope round your neck he should come up in time? Suppose he had
not walked towards the sentry and learned what was toward.'
'You are right, Colonel,' Terence answered, abashed; 'though I did
not quite mean what I said.'
'A thing is none the less miraculous because you can sometimes
explain it,' remarked General Cantor. 'However, I am sure that both
you boys know well enough to whom you owe your safety, and that you
are not so ungrateful as not to acknowledge His care for you.'
There was silence for a moment, and then Colonel Haughton said:
'Before we say good-night I want to tell you two something. I have
bought back Major Moore's old station, George, and the title-deeds
are made out in the joint names of you and your friend Terence.'
'Father!' For a moment George could not say another word. Then he
gripped a hand each of his father and his friend. 'You could not
have pleased me better,' he cried. 'Thank you, dad, thank you.
Partner, I congratulate you.'
'But what have I done to be treated like this?' objected Terence.
'George saves my life, and I am rewarded for it. That seems odd.'
'You returned the compliment to-day,' Colonel Haughton reminded him.
'Your father was my dear friend, Terence, as you know; and, indeed, I
could give you other good reasons for my action. But why should I?
The thing is done.'
'There, Terence, you must make the best of it,' said George,
laughing. 'Unless, indeed, you don't feel inclined to chum with me
any longer.'
Terence gave him an eloquent look and tried to thank Colonel
Haughton. But he could only press the old man's hand, so George
threw an arm round his shoulders and led him away.
Together they stretched themselves under a great tree, just as they
had done on that other night when Terence had walked into the grip of
the Hawk. The flames died down on the summit of the hill--the _Pah_
of Death was no more. The blazing stars of the south looked down
upon the battlefield, still strewn with relics of the fight. Here
and there in the bivouac some wounded wretch stirred uneasily and
groaned in his troubled slumber. But deep in the fern the friends
slept the peaceful sleep of healthy, happy youth--youth which can
forget past sorrow as easily as it dreams of coming joy; and between
them lay what George had called 'God's Providence'--the greenstone
_mere_ of TUMATAUENGA.
THE END
PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN AT
THE PRESS OF THE PUBLISHERS.