Lucy kept her eyes fixed on her friend to try and ascertain if she now more clearly understood her. Waihoura again shook her head. Lucy felt convinced that her knowledge of English was still too imperfect to enable her to comprehend the subject. “I must try more than ever to learn to speak Maori,” she said, “and then perhaps I shall better be able to explain what I mean.”
“Maori girl want to know much, much, much,” answered Waihoura, taking Lucy’s hand. “Maori girl soon die perhaps, and then wish to go away where Lucy go.”
“Ah, yes, it is natural that we should wish to be with those we have loved on earth, but if we understand the surpassing love of Jesus, we should desire far more to go and dwell with Him. Try and remember, Waihoura, that we have a Friend in heaven who loves us more than any earthly friend can do, who knows how weak and foolish and helpless we are, and yet is ever ready to listen to us, and to receive us when we lift up our hearts to Him in prayer.”
“Maori girl not know how to pray,” said Waihoura, sorrowfully.
“I cannot teach you,” said Lucy, “but if you desire to pray, Jesus can and will send the Holy Spirit I told you of. If you only wish to pray, I believe that you are praying, the mere words you utter are of little consequence, God sees into our hearts, and He knows better than even we ourselves do, whether the spirit of prayer is there.”
“I am afraid, Miss Lucy, that the little girl can’t take in much of the beautiful things you have been saying,” observed Mrs Greening, who had all the time been listening attentively. “But I have learned more than I knew before, and I only wish Tobias and the rest of them had been here to listen to you.”
“I am very sure my father will explain the subject to them more clearly than I can do,” said Lucy, modestly. “I have only repeated what he said to me, and what I know to be true, because I have found it all so plainly set forth in God’s Word. My father always tells us not to take anything we hear for granted till we find it there, and that it is our duty to search the Scriptures for ourselves. It is because people are often too idle, or too ignorant to do this, that there is so much false doctrine and error among nominal Christians. I hope Mr Marlow will pay us a visit when we are settled in our new home, and bring a Maori Bible with him, and he will be able to explain the truth to Waihoura far better than I can. You will like to learn to read, Waihoura, and we must get some books, and I will try and teach you, and you will teach me your language at the same time.”
Lucy often spoke on the same subject to her guest; but, as was to be expected, Waihoura very imperfectly understood her. With more experience she would have known that God often thinks fit to try the faith and patience even of the most earnest and zealous Christians who are striving to make known the truth of the gospel to others. The faithful missionary has often toiled on for years among the heathen before he has been allowed to see the fruit of his labours.
Chapter Four.
Settling Down
Return of waggon to the camp for Lucy and the rest of the party, who set off for the farm. – Scenery on the road. – Arrival at farm. – Mr Spears again. – Plans for the future
“Here comes the waggon,” shouted Harry, as he stood on the brow of the hill waving his hat. “There’s farmer Greening and Val. Papa has sent for us at last.”
Harry was right, and Val announced that he had come for all the lighter articles, including Lucy and her companions, who were to set out at once with farmer Greening, while he, with a native, remained to take care of the heavier goods.
The waggon was soon loaded, leaving places within it for Lucy and Waihoura, Mrs Greening and Betsy insisting on walking.
“Now Val, I hand over my command to you, and see that you keep as good a watch as I have done,” said Harry, as he shook hands with his brother. “I must go and take charge of the sheep.” Valentine smiled at the air of importance Harry had assumed. “There’s the right stuff in the little fellow,” he said to himself, as he watched him and young Tobias driving the sheep in the direction the waggon had taken.
Lucy was delighted with the appearance of the country, as they advanced, though she could not help wishing very frequently that the road had been smoother; indeed, the vehicle bumped and rolled about so much at times that she fully expected a break down. Waihoura, who had never been in a carriage before, naturally supposed that this was the usual way in which such vehicles moved along, and therefore appeared in no degree alarmed. She pointed out to Lucy the names of the different trees they passed, and of the birds which flew by. Lucy was struck with the beauty of the fern trees, their long graceful leaves springing twenty and thirty feet from the ground; some, indeed, in sheltered and damp situations, were twice that height, having the appearance of the palm trees of tropical climates. The most beautiful tree was the rimu, which rose without a branch to sixty or seventy feet, with graceful drooping foliage of a beautiful green, resembling clusters of feathers; then there was the kahikatea, or white pine, resembling the rimu in foliage, but with a light coloured bark. One or two were seen rising ninety feet high without a branch. There were numerous creepers, some bearing very handsome flowers, and various shrubs; one, the karaka, like a large laurel, with golden coloured berries in clusters, which contrasted finely with the glossy greenness of its foliage. Some of the fruits were like large plums, very tempting in appearance; but when Lucy tasted some, which the farmer picked for her, she was much disappointed in their flavour. The best was the poro poro, which had a taste between that of apple peel and a bad strawberry.
Birds were flitting about from tree to tree; the most common was the tui, with a glossy black plumage, and two white feathers on the throat like bands, and somewhat larger than an English blackbird, which appeared always in motion, now darting up from some low bush to the topmost bough of a lofty tree, when it began making a number of strange noises, with a wonderful volume of tone. If one tui caught sight of another, they commenced fighting, more in sport, apparently, than in earnest, and ending with a wild shout; they would throw a summer-set or two, and then dart away into the bush to recommence their songs and shouts. There was a fine pigeon, its plumage richly shaded with green purple and gold, called the kukupa. Occasionally they caught sight of a large brown parrot, marked with red, flying about the tops of the tallest trees, and uttering a loud and peculiar cry; this was the kaka. Waihoura pointed out to Lucy another bird of the parrot tribe, of a green plumage, touched with gold about the head, and which she called the kakarica.
As the waggon could only proceed at a snail’s pace, they had made good but half the distance, when they had to stop for dinner by the side of a bright stream which ran through the forest. The horses, which were tethered, cropped the grass, and Mrs Greening unpacked her cooking utensils.
While dinner was getting ready, Waihoura led Lucy along the bank of the stream to show her some more birds. They saw several, among them an elegant little fly-catcher, with a black and white plumage, and a delicate fan-tail, which flew rapidly about picking up sun-flies; this was the tirakana. And there was another pretty bird, the makomako, somewhat like a green linnet. Several were singing together, and their notes reminded Lucy of the soft tinkling of numerous little bells.
They had seen nothing of Harry and Tobias with the sheep since starting, and farmer Greening began to regret that he had not sent one of his elder sons to drive them.
“Never fear, father,” observed Mrs Greening, “our little Tobias has got a head on his shoulders, and so has Master Harry, and with ‘Rough’ to help them, they will get along well enough.”
Mrs Greening was right, and just as the horses were put too, “Rough’s” bark was heard through the woods. In a short time the van of the flock appeared, with a native, who walked first to show the way. Though “Rough” had never been out in the country before, he seemed to understand its character, and the necessity of compelling the sheep to follow the footsteps of the dark-skinned native before them.
“It’s capital fun,” cried Harry, as soon as he saw Lucy. “We have to keep our eyes about us though, when coming through the wood especially, but we have not let a single sheep stray away as yet.”
“Well, boys, our fire is still burning, and my missus has cooked food enough for you all,” said farmer Greening. “So you may just take your dinner, and come on after us as fast as you can.”
“We will not be long,” answered Harry. “Hope, mother, you have left some bones for ‘Rough’ though,” said Toby. “He deserves his dinner as much as any of us.”
“Here’s a mess I put by for him to give when we got to the end of our journey,” answered Mrs Greening, drawing out a pot which she had stowed away in the waggon. She called to “Rough,” who quickly gobbled it up. The waggon then moved on, while Harry and his companions sat round the fire to discuss their dinner. “Rough,” in the meantime, vigilantly keeping the sheep together.
The remainder of the journey was found more difficult than the first part had been. Sometimes they had to climb over steep ranges, when the natives assisted at the wheels, while Mrs Greening and Betsy pushed behind; then they had to descend on the other side, when a drag was put on, and the wheels held back. Several wide circuits had to be made to avoid hills on their way, and even when over level ground, the fern in many places was so very thick that it was rather hard work for the horses to drag the waggon through it.
“This is a rough country,” observed Mrs Greening, as she trudged on by her husband’s side. “I didn’t expect to see the like of it.”
“Never fear, dame,” answered the farmer. “In a year or two we shall have a good road between this and the port, and a coach-and-four may be running on it.”
At length the last range was passed, and they reached a broad open valley, with a fine extent of level ground. In the distance rose a hill, with a sparkling river flowing near it, and thickly wooded heights. Further on beyond, it appeared a bold range of mountains, their highest peaks capped with snow.
“This is, indeed, a beautiful scene,” exclaimed Lucy.
“That’s our home, Miss,” said the farmer, pointing to the hill. “If your eyes could reach as far, you would just see the roof of your new house among the trees. We shall come well in sight of it before long.”
The waggon now moved on faster, as the fern had been cut away or trampled down, and the horses seemed to know that they were getting near home.
Mr Pemberton and the farmer’s sons came down to welcome them, and to conduct them up to the house.
Lucy was surprised to find what progress had already been made. The whole of it was roofed over, and the room she was to occupy was completely finished. The building was not very large. It consisted of a central hall, with two bed-rooms on either side, and a broad verandah running entirely round it; behind it were some smaller detached buildings for the kitchen and out-houses. In front and on one side a space was marked off for a flower garden, beyond which, extending down the side of the hill to the level ground, was a large space which Mr Pemberton said he intended for the orchard and kitchen garden. On that side of the house were sheds for the waggons and horses, though now occupied by the native labourers.
“They consider themselves magnificently lodged,” said Mr Pemberton. “And they deserve it, for they worked most industriously, and enabled me to put up the house far more rapidly than I had expected. I believe, however, that they would have preferred the native wahré, with the heat and smoke they delight in, to the larger hut I have provided for them, and I have been sometimes afraid they would burn it down with the huge fire they made within.”
Farmer Greening’s cottage, which was a little way round on the other side of the hill, was built on a similar plan to Mr Pemberton, but it was not so far advanced.
“You must blame me, Mrs Greening, for this,” said Mr Pemberton. “Your husband insisted on helping me with my house before he would begin yours, declaring that he should have the advantage of having mine as a model. I hope, therefore, that you will take up your abode with us till yours is finished, as Harry and I can occupy the tent in the meantime.”
Mrs Greening gladly accepted the invitation; she thought, indeed, that she should be of use to Lucy in getting the house in order. The sitting-room was not yet boarded, but a rough table had been put in it, and round this the party were soon seated at tea.
“Beg pardon, I hope I don’t intrude, just looked in to welcome you and my good friend Mrs Greening to ‘Riverside.’ Glad to find that you have arrived safe. Well, to be sure, the place is making wonderful progress, we have three families already arrived in the village, and two more expected tomorrow, and I don’t know how many will follow. I have been helping my new friends to put up their houses, and have been obliged to content myself with a shake-down of fern in the corner of a shed; but we settlers must make up our minds to rough it, Mr Pemberton, and I hope to get my own house up in the course of a week or two.”
These words were uttered by Mr Nicholas Spears, who stood poking his head into the room at the doorway, as if doubtful whether he might venture to enter.
“I thank you for your kind inquiries, Mr Spears,” said Mr Pemberton, who, though he could not feel much respect for the little man, treated him, as he did everybody else, with courtesy. “If you have not had your tea come in and take a seat at our board. We have but a three-legged stool to offer you.”
This was just what Mr Spears wished; and sitting down he began forthwith to give the party all the news of the settlement. From his account Lucy was glad to find that two families, one that of a naval, the other of a military officer, who had just arrived in the colony, had taken land close to theirs, and were about to settle on it.
Although the midsummer day was drawing to a close, Harry and Toby, with the sheep, had not yet made their appearance. Paul and James went off to meet them, and take the flock where they were to remain for the night, so as to relieve the boys of their charge. There was a fine bright moon, so they would have no difficulty in finding their way. Not long afterwards Harry’s voice was heard, echoed by Toby’s, shouting to the sheep, and the two boys rushed up to the house.
“Here we are, papa,” cried Harry. “We have brought the sheep along all safe, and now Paul and James have got charge of them, we may eat our supper with good consciences.”
Mrs Greening quickly placed a plentiful meal before the two young shepherds, who did ample justice to it.
“We must get some cows, farmer, if we can procure any at a moderate price, when you next go back to town,” said Mr Pemberton.
“That’s just what I was thinking,” answered the farmer.
“And some pigs and poultry,” added Mrs Greening. “I should not think myself at home without them, and Miss Lucy and Betsy will be wanting some to look after.”
“And a few goats, I suspect, would not be amiss,” observed the farmer. “I saw several near the town, and I hear they do very well.”
Waihoura, who was listening attentively to all that was said, seemed to comprehend the remark about the goats, and made Lucy understand that she had several at her village, and she should like to send for some of them.
Supper being over, Mr Pemberton, according to his usual custom, read a chapter in the Bible, and offered up evening prayer; and after Mr Spears had taken his departure, and the rest of the family had retired to their respective dormitories, heaps of fern serving as beds for most of them, Mr Pemberton and the farmer sat up arranging their plans for the future. The latter agreed to return to town the next day to bring up the remainder of the stores, and to make the proposed purchases.
Although they all knew that at no great distance there were several villages inhabited by savages, till lately, notorious for their fierce and blood-thirsty character, they lay down to sleep with perfect confidence, knowing that the missionary of the gospel had been among them, and believing that a firm friendship had been established between them and the white occupants of their country.
Chapter Five.
Ihaka’s Visit
Life at Riverside. – Waihoura begins to learn the truth. – Her father, accompanied by several chiefs, comes to take her to his pah, and she quits her friends at Riverside
The settlement made rapid progress. In the course of a few weeks Mr Pemberton’s and farmer Greening’s houses were finished, their gardens dug and planted; and they had now, in addition to the sheep, which Harry and Toby continued to tend, several cows and pigs and poultry. Lucy, assisted by Betsy, was fully occupied from morning till night; she, however, found time to give instruction to Waihoura, while Mr Pemberton or Valentine assisted Harry in his studies. He seldom went out without a book in his pocket, so that he might read while the vigilant “Rough” kept the sheep together. Several other families had bought land in the neighbourhood, and had got up their cottages. Some of them were very nice people, but they, as well as Lucy, were so constantly engaged, that they could see very little of each other.
The Maoris employed by Mr Pemberton belonged to Ihaka’s tribe, and through them he heard of his daughter. He had been so strongly urged by Mr Marlow to allow her to remain with her white friends, that he had hitherto abstained from visiting her, lest, as he sent word, he should be tempted to take her away. Lucy was very glad of this, as was Waihoura. The two girls were becoming more and more attached to each other, and they dreaded the time when they might be separated.
“Maori girl wish always live with Lucy – never, never part,” said Waihoura, as one evening the two friends sat together in the porch, bending over a picture-book of Scripture subjects, with the aid of which Lucy was endeavouring to instruct her companion. Lucy’s arm was thrown round Waihoura’s neck, while Betsy, who had finished her work, stood behind them, listening to the conversation, and wondering at the way her young mistress contrived to make herself understood. “God does not always allow even the dearest friends to remain together while they dwell on earth,” replied Lucy to Waihoura’s last remark. “I used to wish that I might never leave my dear mother; but God thought fit to take her to Himself. I could not have borne the parting did not I know that I should meet her in heaven.”
“What place heaven?” asked Waihoura.
“Jesus has told us that it is the place where we shall be with Him, where all is love, and purity, and holiness, and where we shall meet all who have trusted to Him while on earth, and where there will be no more parting, and where sorrow and sickness, and pain, and all things evil, will be unknown.”
“Maori girl meet Lucy in heaven?” said Waihoura, in a tone which showed she was asking a question.
“I am sure you will,” said Lucy, “if you learn to love Jesus and do His will.”
Waihoura was silent for some minutes, a sad expression coming over her countenance.
“Maori girl too bad, not love Jesus enough,” she said.
“No one is fitted for heaven from their own merits or good works, and we never can love Jesus as much as He deserves to be loved. But He knows how weak and wayward we are, and all He asks us is to try our best to love and serve Him, to believe that He was punished instead of us, and took our sins upon Himself, and He then, as it were, clothes us with His righteousness. He hides our sins, or puts them away, so that God looks upon us as if we were pure and holy, and free from sin, and so will let us come into a pure and holy heaven, where no unclean things – such as are human beings – of themselves can enter. Do you understand me?”
Waihoura thought for some time, and then asked Lucy again to explain her meaning. At length her countenance brightened.
“Just as if Maori girl put on Lucy’s dress, and hat and shawl over face, and go into a pakeha house, people say here come pakeha girl.”
“Yes,” said Lucy, inclined to smile at her friend’s illustration of the truth. “But you must have a living faith in Christ’s sacrifice; and though the work and the merit is all His, you must show, by your love and your life, what you think, and say, and do, that you value that work. If one of your father’s poor slaves had been set free, and had received a house and lands, and a wife, and pigs, and many other things from him, ought not the slave to remain faithful to him, and to try and serve him, and work for him more willingly than when he was a slave? That is just what Jesus Christ requires of those who believe in Him. They were slaves to Satan and the world, and to many bad ways, and He set them free. He wants all such to labour for Him. Now He values the souls of people more than anything else, and He wishes His friends to make known to others the way by which their souls may be saved. He also wishes people to live happily together in the world; and He came on earth to show us the only way in which that can be done. He proved to us, by His example, that we can only be happy by being kind, and gentle, and courteous to others, helping those who are in distress, doing to others as we should wish they would do to us. If, therefore, we really love Jesus, and have a living active faith in Him, we shall try to follow His example in all things. If all men lived thus, the gospel on earth would be established, there would be really peace and good will among men.”
“Very different here,” said Waihoura. “Maori people still quarrel, and fight, and kill. In pakeha country they good people love Jesus, and do good, and no bad.”
“I am sorry to say that though there are many who do love Jesus, there are far more who do not care to please Him, and that there is much sin, and sorrow, and suffering in consequence. Oh, if we could but find the country where all loved and tried to serve Him! If all the inhabitants of even one little island were real followers of Jesus, what a happy spot it would be.” Waihoura sighed.
“Long time before Maori country like that.”
“I am afraid that it will be a long time before any part of the world is like that,” said Lucy. “But yet it is the duty of each separate follower of Jesus to try, by the way he or she lives, to make it so. Oh, how watchful we should be over ourselves and all our thoughts, words and acts, and remembering our own weakness and proneness to sin, never to be trusting to ourselves, but ever seeking the aid of the Holy Spirit to help us.”
Lucy said this rather to herself than to her companion. Indeed, though she did her best to explain the subject to Waihoura, and to draw from her in return the ideas she had received, she could not help acknowledging that what she had said was very imperfectly understood by the Maori girl. She was looking forward, however, with great interest, to a visit from Mr Marlow, and she hoped that he, from speaking the native language fluently, would be able to explain many points which she had found beyond her power to put clearly.
The work of the day being over, the party were seated at their evening meal. A strange noise was heard coming from the direction of the wahré, which the native labourers had built for themselves, a short distance from the house. Harry, who had just then come in from his shepherding, said that several natives were collected round the wahré, and that they were rubbing noses, and howling together in chorus. “I am afraid they have brought some bad news, for the tears were rolling down their eyes, and altogether they looked very unhappy,” he remarked. Waihoura, who partly understood what Harry had said, looked up and observed —
“No bad news, only meet after long time away.” Still she appeared somewhat anxious, and continued giving uneasy glances at the door. Valentine was about to go out to make inquiries, when Ihaka, dressed in a cloak of flax, and accompanied by several other persons similarly habited, appeared at the door. Waihoura ran forward to meet him. He took her in his arms, rubbed his nose against hers, and burst into tears, which also streamed down her cheeks. After their greeting was over, Mr Pemberton invited the chief and his friends to be seated, fully expecting to hear that he had come to announce the death of some near relative. The chief accepted the invitation for himself and one of his companions, while the others retired to a distance, and sat down on the ground. Ihaka’s companion was a young man, and the elaborate tattooing on his face and arms showed that he was a chief of some consideration. Both he and Ihaka behaved with much propriety, and their manners were those of gentlemen who felt themselves in their proper position; but as Lucy noticed the countenance of the younger chief, she did not at all like its expression. The tattoo marks always give a peculiarly fierce look to the features; but, besides this, as he cast his eyes round the party, and they at last rested on Waihoura, Lucy’s bad opinion of him was confirmed.
Ihaka could speak a few sentences of English, but the conversation was carried on chiefly through Waihoura, who interpreted for him. The younger chief seldom spoke; when he did, either Ihaka or his daughter tried to explain his meaning. Occasionally he addressed her in Maori, when she hung down her head, or turned her eyes away from him, and made no attempt to interpret what he had said. Mr Pemberton knew enough of the customs of the natives not to inquire the object of Ihaka’s visit, and to wait till he thought fit to explain it. Lucy had feared, directly he made his appearance, that he had come to claim his daughter, and she trembled lest he should declare that such was his intention. Her anxiety increased when supper was over, and he began, in somewhat high-flown language, to express his gratitude to her and Mr Pemberton for the care they had taken of Waihoura. He then introduced his companion as Hemipo, a Rangatira, or chief of high rank, his greatly esteemed and honoured friend, who, although not related to him by the ties of blood, might yet, he hoped, become so. When he said this Waihoura cast her eyes to the ground, and looked greatly distressed, and Lucy, who had taken her hand, felt it tremble.
Ihaka continued, observing that now, having been deprived of the company of his daughter for many months, though grateful to the friends who had so kindly sheltered her, and been the means of restoring her to health, he desired to have her return with him to his pah, where she might assist in keeping the other women in order, and comfort and console him in his wahré, which had remained empty and melancholy since the death of her mother.
Waihoura, though compelled to interpret this speech, made no remark on it; but Lucy saw that the tears were trickling down her cheeks. Mr Pemberton, though very sorry to part with his young guest, felt that it would be useless to beg her father to allow her to remain after what he had said. Lucy, however, pleaded hard that she might be permitted to stay on with them sometime longer. All she could say, however, was useless; for when the chief appeared to be yielding, Hemipo said something which made him keep to his resolution, and he finally told Waihoura that she must prepare to accompany him the following morning. He and Hemipo then rose, and saying that they would sleep in the wahré, out of which it afterwards appeared they turned the usual inhabitants, they took their departure.
Waihoura kept up her composure till they were gone, and then throwing herself on Lucy’s neck, burst into tears.
“Till I came here I did not know what it was to love God, and to try and be good, and to live as you do, so happy and peaceable, and now I must go back and be again the wild Maori girl I was before I came to you, and follow the habits of my people; and worse than all, Lucy, from what my father said, I know that he intends me to marry the Rangatira Hemipo, whom I can never love, for he is a bad man, and has killed several cookies or slaves, who have offended him. He is no friend of the pakehas, and has often said he would be ready to drive them out of the country. He would never listen either to the missionaries; and when the good Mr Marlow went to his pah, he treated him rudely, and has threatened to take his life if he has the opportunity. Fear only of what the pakehas might do has prevented him.”
Waihoura did not say this in as many words, but she contrived, partly in English and partly in her own language, to make her meaning understood. Lucy was deeply grieved at hearing it, and tried to think of some means for saving Waihoura from so hard a fate. They sat up for a long time talking on the subject, but no plan which Lucy could suggest afforded Waihoura any consolation.
“I will consult my father as to what can be done,” Lucy said at last; “or when Mr Marlow comes, perhaps he can help us.”
“Oh no, he can do nothing,” answered Waihoura, bursting into tears.
“We must pray, then, that God will help us,” said Lucy. “He has promised that He will be a present help in time of trouble.”
“Oh yes, we will pray to God. He only can help us,” replied the Maori girl, and ere they lay down on their beds they together offered up their petitions to their Father in heaven for guidance and protection; but though they knew that that would not be withheld, they could not see the way in which it would be granted.