Czytaj książkę: «War to the Knife», strona 9

A change seemed suddenly to have come over the spirit of the girl. From being carelessly playful in manner, as she had been in their rambles all the day, she became silent and reserved till they reached the camp. There she retired at once to where the other women had fixed their quarters, merely remarking that they would have to leave early if they hoped to reach the terraces.

The night was strangely, magically lovely. Massinger had no great desire to sleep. He felt, indeed, that one might easily watch till dawn amid this region of magic and sorcery. Brightly burned the stars in the dark blue heavens. There was no moon, but the constellations, to his excited fancy, seemed strangely lustrous and of intense, almost unreal, brilliancy. Warwick and he stood near their camp fire, only occasionally speaking, when all suddenly there arose a wild shout, then a succession of cries, from the direction of Te Heu Heu's pah, which pointed to some unusual occurrence. A wailing cry came, too, from the natives of their own encampment, whom they observed to have left their whares and gathered in a group.

"What is the meaning of all this?" said Massinger, who had been gazing over the lake, and listening to the low calls and whispering notes of the water-fowl which sailed in flocks amid its sedges and reeds. "What do they mean by that long-drawn sound? And now there is a shout – a sort of herald's proclamation."

"You are right," said Warwick. "The Tohunga calls aloud, 'Behold the sacred fire on Tongariro! The Atua commands war. Listen, O men of the Arawa.

"'The pakeha desires to take the country of the nga iwi (the tribes). He will take the forests and the kumera plantations, the valleys and the mountains, the rivers and the shores of the sea. The Maori canoe will no longer be paddled on the broad bosom of the Waikato, on lakes which have been our fathers since they came from Hawaiki. The steamboat will drive away the Maori canoe; the sheep and cattle of the pakeha will feed on our plantations; the white magistrates will put our young men in prison; our old men will break stones for the pakeha roads. We shall all be slaves, working for a pakeha conqueror.

"'Shall we be slaves, or shall we unite and march against the pakeha?'"

A thousand voices shouted till the echoes by the lake shore rang again with cries as of one man —

"Akore, akore, akore!"

"If we are not willing to be slaves, shall the tribes, the Waikato and the Ngatiawa, join together and drive the pakeha into the sea from whence he came?"

Then one more deep-drawn shout of assent resounded through the still night-air.

"You see what the feeling is," said Warwick, turning as he spoke. "Look yonder, and behold the fire on Tongariro!"

Massinger swung round, and, to his great surprise, saw amidst a cloud of steam, high up on the mountain, a red band of fire, which seemed to encircle the upper portion of the cinder-cone which formed so remarkable an addition to the summit. A fresh volume of steam rose pillar-like from the crater, while from time to time angry bursts of flame issued from the top and sides of the cone.

"A very grand sight," he said; "but what is there to create such a disturbance? It is surely not an unusual occurrence in this land of imprisoned fires? Is that the meaning of all this outcry?"

"That, and nothing else," replied the guide; "but it is by no means an ordinary occurrence. It is now many years since such a thing has taken place. But all the excitement arises out of an old superstition."

"And what may that be?"

"In olden times the appearance of fire upon Tongariro was regarded as a mandate from their Atua to wage war – which they invariably did. Occasions were not far to seek, as there was always a weaker tribe to attack or a strong one to measure forces with. But now it means more – much more. And that is why these natives are so excited."

"But why should it mean more now?"

"For this reason. Every tribe in the North Island knows that this Waitara land trouble is likely to cause a break-out at any moment. They look upon this fire on Tongariro as a call to arms against the whites; and if there has been serious dispute at Waitara there will be a war, and a bloody one, as sure as we stand here."

"And with what result?"

"Of course, they will be beaten in the end. But it will be a longer business than people would think. The tribes are armed, and, having made money for some years past, these Waikato and Ngatihaua have invested in firearms. They have the advantage of knowing every foot of the country, and your troops will fight at a disadvantage. However, I see Te Heu Heu's people are quiet again, and our party have returned to their whares; so we may as well turn in."

Next morning Massinger was surprised at Erena's altered expression. Her usually bright and mirthful manner had given way to one of brooding depression; he in vain attempted to rally her.

"Surely you do not accept this natural occurrence as a command from Heaven? What possible connection can it have with the war, which I think unlikely to take place, in spite of Warwick's opinion."

"He knows more than you do," she answered – "possibly more than I myself, though of course the natives talk to me freely. But something tells me, in a manner that I cannot describe, that there will be war. And what the end of it may be for you, for me, for all of us, no mortal can tell."

"But surely it must be short," he answered. "Troops and ships will come from the other colonies – from England, even – if war is once declared. Then what chance will these misguided natives have?"

"You will see – you will see," she said. "Pray God it may not be so; and, indeed, my father's daughter ought to fear nothing. It is not for myself. No!" she said, raising her head proudly, "if I could die, like the women of old, for my country, for my people, all would be easy. But I see worse things in the future – burning houses, women and children lying dead, the young and old; the settlers driven from their farms, after all their hard work and care; among our people the slaughter of warriors, the chiefs lying dead, the women and children starving! Oh, it is a terrible picture! I dreamed that blood had been shed, that more was to come."

"Why, you must be a prophetess!" said he, still striving to lead her from such dark forebodings. "You have been over-excited. I would not ridicule your ideas for a moment, but, as we can hear and do nothing till we get to Rotorua, suppose we agree to put off the mention of terrible things which may never come to pass, and enjoy what time we have among these lovely terraces."

"After all," she said, as a smile rippled over her expressive countenance, effacing for the moment every trace of depression, "perhaps it is the better way. Life is short at the best, and we need not cloud it more than we can help. We are now close to Tarawera, in some respects the most wonderful place of the whole collection. Isn't there a peculiar grandeur about it? The name means 'burnt cliffs.' Look at the rocky bluffs, shaded by those beautiful pohutus! That is Tarawera Mountain, with a crown of trees. And see, that is our path that leads to Rotomahana, by the south shore of the lake."

"We have now," said Warwick, "about ten miles to travel before we reach Rotomahana. The path is well marked but steep, and a fair climb."

The famous lake, when reached, was to Massinger somewhat disappointing. It owed nothing to mere extent or picturesque surroundings – a verdant-appearing sheet of water, with marshy shores, surrounded by treeless hills, covered with low-growing fern. But its marvels were strongly in evidence. Its title to distinction rests upon its high temperature and intense, incessant thermal activity. Boiling water on either shore issues from the soil. Pools of hot mud were frequent in the marshes; gas-bubbles in the open lake indicated a higher temperature near certain parts. There it was dangerous to bathe (according to Warwick), though at no great distance the water was merely lukewarm. Springs of various characters abounded, totally different from each other – alkaline, saline, arsenical, sulphurous. The feathered tribes of swimmers and waders, protected by the tribe until the appointed season, were in flocks innumerable, various of size, hue, and habit. The splendid pukeha (Porphyrio melanotus), the graceful torea, or oyster-eater (Hæmatopus picatus), the beautiful white-necked "paradise" duck, with countless congeners, held high revel, after the manner of their kind.

Here might one fancy that one of great Nature's laboratories had been arrested until its beneficent purpose was fulfilled; that, until the missing cycle of centuries had rolled by, some high and glorious development of the Almighty Hand had been delayed; that vain man had intruded upon the scene, with his accustomed assurance, before the creative scheme had been declared complete.

As the little group stood on Te Terata, or "tattooed rock," projecting with terraced marble steps into the lake, Massinger held his breath in wonder and admiration while the glories of this unequalled pageantry of the elements broke upon his senses. Earth and air, fire and water, were here represented in strange propinquity and hitherto unknown combinations.

A hundred feet above them, on the slope of the fern-clad hill, they came to a huge boiling caldron, enclosed in a crater with walls forty feet high, open only on the lake side. The basin, spring-fed, is nearly a hundred feet long, and more than half as wide. Brimful was it with translucent water, which, in that snow-white incrustated basin, was of an intense turquoise blue. Cloud-masses of steam, reflecting the lovely colour and confining the view, while enhancing the effect, were pierced with the ceaseless sounds, which are almost cries, of the tormented water. The silicious deposit presented the appearance of a cataract, which, dashing itself over a succession of gradually lowered platforms, has been suddenly turned into stone. The effect has been deliciously rendered by Mr. Domett in his glorious poem, "Ranulph and Amohia" —

 
"A cataract, carved in Parian stone,
Or any purer substance known,
Agate or milk-white chalcedon,
Its showering snow cascades appear.
Long ranges bright of stalactite,
And sparry frets and fringes white,
Thick falling plenteous, tier on tier,
Its crowding stairs."
 

The silicates deposited from the ever-flowing water had formed on the slope a succession of terraces of purest white imaginable, such as no Parian marble could surpass – delicate, pure, polished as of glass, the lines of tracery like the finest lace, the colouring of a lustre and variety unique and unparalleled.

The system of terraces and basins covered several acres. Centuries, nay æons, must have been required for the slow accumulation of these exquisite formations. Commencing at the lake with shallow basins, while farther up, the higher terraces, from three to six feet high, are formed by a number of semicircular stages varying in height. Each has a raised margin, from which the slender stalactites hang down upon the lower stage, encircling one or more basins, filled with water of the purest, most resplendent blue. The smaller cups represent so many natural baths, which connoisseurs of the most refined luxury could scarce have equalled – of different size and depth, too, with every degree of temperature.

On reaching the highest terrace, they arrived at an extensive platform, upon which were other basins of temperature equally high.

A rocky island, covered with ferns and lycopodiums, enabled them to view at ease the steaming water of the caldron, and to mark the varying colours and strong effects – the virgin white, the turquoise blue, the vivid green of the surrounding vegetation, the crude red of the bare walls of the crater, with the whirling clouds of steam, the delicate shapes of the pure marble-seeming stalactites, the incrustated branches, with every leaf and twig snow white, all combined in phantasmal, unearthly beauty.

"What do you think of my country now?" said Erena, as they stood side by side, gazing at this enchanted scene.

"The most marvellous play of light and colour that my eyes ever rested on," said he. "I shall recall it to my dying day. It is a privilege to have lived through such an experience. Our old friend of the Arabian Nights uses the only forms of description that can approach it."

"I have been here more than once," said Erena, "but I never felt its charm so keenly as on this occasion. My father has a poetic soul and much scientific knowledge; he carefully explained to me its various beauties. But he was of opinion that some day a tremendous convulsion would take place and ruin all these glories for ever."

"What a dreadful idea! I am afraid you must have inherited a turn for prophesying evil. I must confess, however, that these imprisoned fire-spirits, whatever they are, must have very little of the Maori nature in them, if they let us off without a burst up. And now, I suppose, it is 'Hey for Rotorua!'"

"I fear so," said the girl, with a half-sigh. "This fairylike wayfaring is too pleasant to last. We may hear news at Rotorua which will alter your plans."

"My plans are quite unfixed at present; but if war breaks out it is hard to say what one may have to do. I dare say I shall be in the thick of it."

"We must not forget that the pink terrace is yet to be seen, and we may never have another opportunity of seeing it together."

"I feel as if my mind would not contain any more of wonder and admiration, but we dare not leave any of the wonders of this unearthly region unexplored."

Together, then, leaving Warwick to arrange for an early morning departure, they watched the great fountain of "Otuka-puarangi," on the west side of the lake, discharge his azure overflow into a series of terraces and basins. The fountain sprang from a platform sixty feet above the lake and a hundred yards long. The flooring on the terraces was of a delicate pink hue; hence their name. In the background was the great hot spring, a caldron of forty to fifty feet in diameter, its naked walls, like the first seen, coloured red, white, and yellow. At the foot of the terraces they saw the great solfa-terra Te Whaka-tara-tara.

The three principal personages remained in converse long after the usual time of separation. The night was fine, and the surroundings were foreign to the idea of early repose. The sounds of the fire-breathing agencies, above and below, grew more distinct in the hush of night. An occasional steam jet shooting into the air appeared like an emissary sent to warn of approaching danger.

"I should like to have seen the terraces by night," said Massinger, "but it is not a country for late travelling."

"No, indeed," said Warwick; "a false step, a stumble into the wrong pool, has before now cost a man his life. I once saw a poor dog scalded to death in a moment. I think you will find Rotorua and the Valley of Geysers sufficiently interesting. If you care for Maori legends, you should ask Erena to tell you the tale of her ancestress, the beautiful Hinemoa."

"What a pretty name! And was she an ancestress of yours? What did she do to acquire immortality? – for I have heard her name, as a heroine, without being told the legend."

"When we reach Rotorua, I will show you Mokoia, the island to which she swam," said Erena, with a smile. "Also the point Wai-rere-wai on the mainland, from which she started; besides the hot spring which she reached, close to her lover's village. It is a long swim, but I suppose the girls of her day were more accustomed to the water than we are now."

The third day was nearing its close when the little party, having skirted the three-cornered deep blue lake of Taka-tapu, threaded the tangled forests over the Waipa plain, and ascended the bare hills of the range which looks on Rotorua. The lake, gleaming in the sunlight, lay beneath them, with the fumaroles, steam-hammers, and geysers of Whakarewarewa in full blast.

CHAPTER VIII

It was decided to camp on the border of the lake between the village of Ohinemutu, where the old historic pah, with its grim carven giants of the Wharepuni, looks frowningly down upon the little Roman Catholic chapel. Clouds of steam arose in all directions above them, while the scattered pools exhibited the pervading warmth combined with sulphur fumes.

"We are now on historic ground," said Warwick; "for, without counting Hinemoa – there is her island – all manner of legends abound; some of them horrible enough in all conscience, ghastly to a degree," he continued, gazing across the lake. "Mokoia looks peaceful enough now, with scarcely a hundred people on it all told. Yet what tales those rocks could tell! The island was a grand resort for the tribe in the days before gunpowder. In war-time they could paddle over from this side, and defy any enemy that had arrived on foot. There was no waterway to Rotorua. However, Hongi-ika-kai-tangata taught them a lesson."

"What was that?"

"When the tribe retired there, as usual, they did not reckon on an unexpected move of the fiercest and most crafty chief of his day, and that is saying a good deal if all tales be true."

"How did he get over without boats; for I take it they didn't leave any canoes on the hither side?"

"Of course not. But he had plenty of man-power; so, after sacking the Arawa stronghold (in 1823) on the east coast, he dragged his fleet of canoes across by a road which he made to Lake Rotoiti, and, entering Rotorua, appeared with his fleet before the astonished lake tribes. He made straight for Mokoia, fell upon them with his customary ferocity, and, carrying all before him, put to death all who escaped the first assault. Of the whole seven hundred of the Arawa, not one is said to have escaped."

"What a tragedy! But, of course, such stratagems belonged to the accepted method of warfare of the period?"

"Yes," assented Warwick. "Almost where we stand now a chief's widow killed in cold blood (with the tribe and the mission school children looking on) a woman taken in war, as an offering to the memory of her husband. The missionary in vain attempted to prevent the sacrifice, the poor victim appealing piteously to some relative to help her. But the good man only endangered his own life, and did not succeed in saving hers. At Matamata, Te Waharoa's great fortress, when he was besieged by the Ngapuhi under Tareha, he made an unexpected sortie, and, capturing several prisoners, crucified them on the tall posts of the pah– just like those you see there – in the very sight of their friends, who retired in confusion. But I see Erena coming this way, so I must stop these bloodcurdling stories; she has a strong dislike to them."

While their appointed camp was being made ready, they were taken by Warwick to the site of the Lost Village, the scene of the extinction of a hapu of the tribe as sudden and complete as the destruction of that of Te Heu Heu.

They stood on a point of land running into the lake. It was floored with masses of pumice-stone, which the waves had worn into strange and fantastic shapes. Here had been the encampment. The sites of the dwellings, by no means unsubstantial, were marked by walls, of which the lower stones only remained. The apertures showed where the entrances had been. On one fatal night the whole promontory sank downwards, drowning the sleepers, and submerging for ever the homes where generations had lived and died.

Arrived at the camp, all things wore a most cheerful aspect. The chief, according to Maori custom with distinguished visitors, had sent down cooked food, mats, and other gifts, intimating through a messenger that he would be pleased to receive a visit from the pakeha rangatira at his convenience on the morrow.

Erena arranged to abide with her friends or relations until the morrow. The humbler natives asked leave of Warwick to bestow themselves in the village, while the sullen Ngarara, who had of late remained among the rank and file, announced his intention of coming for his pay in the morning, and terminating his engagement there and then.

Warwick displayed no surprise at this announcement, but told him that he might have his pay at once. This offer he accepted, and departed with ill-concealed satisfaction.

"I am not sorry to get clear of him," he said; "he is a dangerous brute, and for some reason has taken a dislike to both of us. I can see it in his face. I had a hint, too, from one of the women not to trust him."

"What earthly reason can he have? He has been treated fairly all the way."

"It's hard to say. Maoris are like other people, good and bad. I hope there will be no war-scare till we get to Auckland, at any rate. He might take the occasion to do you a bad turn; so it will be well to be on your guard."

"Perhaps he will get as good as he brings," said Massinger, with the careless confidence of youth. "I shall keep my powder dry, at any rate."

It was late before the two men separated for the night. Warwick was led into legendary lore, of which he had a prodigious quantity. He told so many tales of battle, murder, and sudden death, that the Englishman dreamed of cannibal feasts, sieges, and pitched battles, with all manner of disquieting incidents, so that the sun had risen when he awakened after a broken night's rest.

His attendants were already in waiting, and before he had finished breakfast Erena arrived, looking fresh and animated. She had made some slight alteration in her dress, and had placed some of the beautiful feathers of the huia in her hair. Altogether, there was a change in her mien, a sparkle in her expressive eyes, a lightness in her step, an added tone of cheerfulness, which Massinger could hardly account for.

He could not avoid remarking upon it. "You are surely not pleased at our parting, Erena?" he said. "Warwick and I must start for Auckland almost at once."

"So soon?" she said. "I hoped you might find something to interest you here for a few days. There's nothing so beautiful as Te Terata or Rotomahana; still, there are strange things here too."

"It must all depend upon our news of the war. It would be unwise to linger here after real fighting has commenced."

"I would not have you do it for the world," said she. "But I have a reason for not wishing you to return before Monday which I cannot tell you now. You will trust me, will you not?"

The girl's deep eyes seemed to glow with unusual lustre as she made this appeal, stretching forth her hands pleadingly, while her lip quivered as she looked at him with a wistful expression he had never noticed before.

"I dare say you know best," he said; "and after all your kindness I could not refuse you anything. But really this life is too pleasant – too much in the way of holiday-making. I must begin to do some of the work for which I came so far."

"You need not fret yourself over that part of it," she said. "You will have plenty of time to do all that is necessary. Many Englishmen come out to buy land, but they all wish they had waited before investing their money."

"You only tell me what my friends said in Auckland," he answered. "I am sure your advice is good. And now for our friend the Ariki of the lake tribes."

Being joined by Warwick, they walked forward to the spot where the chief had located himself. He was surrounded by the elders of the tribe, as well as by a considerable body of natives, among whom Massinger noticed the ill-omened countenance of Ngarara.

"That fellow has been talking to the natives," said Warwick, "and whatever he has said, it is against us; I can see by the chief's face. I am glad that Erena is with us; she has great weight with the tribe."

The chief received them with a show of civility, but was evidently on his guard, as having had his suspicions aroused. He was anxious to know for what reason Massinger had travelled to Taupo and Rotorua after having come so far over the great sea.

"The pakeha is fond of strange sights. He has never seen anything like Te Terata before, and was most anxious to visit Rotorua, of which he had heard much; also to pay his respects to the chief Hika-iro, of whom he was told before he left Auckland."

"A word has been brought to me that the pakeha has come to see the nga iwi (the tribes), and to bring back to the man who rides at the head of the soldiers and to the Mata Kawana the names of the men that can be found for war in Rotorua."

"All untrue. This pakeha dislikes war, and only fights when men insult him. He desires to return to Auckland now that he has seen Te Terata, where he will buy land from the Maoris – perhaps set up a whare-koko."

"The pakeha's words are good, but who will say that they are straight? He may return to Waitemata, and tell the man who rides in front of the soldiers with red clothes that the pah at Rotorua is old and has rotten timbers, so that it would be easy for the men with red coats and the men with blue ones to take it. Why is the daughter of Mannering among the women who are bearing burdens for the pakeha? Will she follow him, and plant kumeras in his fields?"

"She will speak for herself," said Erena, stepping forward with flashing eyes and scornful mien. "If my father were here he would teach that evil-minded man" – pointing to Ngarara – "to speak with respect of his daughter. What can he say? Have I not a right to walk in the same company as this pakeha, or any other? Is not the daughter of a war-chief free to choose her friends? Has not that always been the law and the custom of the Arawa?"

Here there was a murmur of assent among the spectators, particularly from the side where the women of the tribe were assembled, while contemptuous looks were directed at Ngarara, who stood with lowering countenance, unable to face the withering scorn with which the indignant maiden regarded him.

Here Warwick took up the argument, not unreasonably considering that the just anger of the girl might carry her beyond the limits of prudence, as she stood, with burning eyes and heaving bosom, ready to invoke the wrath of the gods upon the head of the traitor who had dared to misinterpret her motives. He pointed out that she had joined the party with the express sanction of the great chief of the Ngapuhi, whose written authority and safe conduct she held; that the other natives, male and female, had been hired for the expedition on liberal terms; that they had been already paid in part (here he pointed to certain articles of apparel and ornament which they had lost no time in purchasing in Ohinemutu); that Ngarara, also, who had proved ungrateful and mischievous – "slave-like" and "a liar" were the Maori terms – had benefited by the pakeha's liberality: he had been paid in full. Here he named the sum, and pointed to a new hat, which the disloyal one had incautiously bought for himself. Upon him the eyes of the whole assembly were at once turned, and his countenance changed as a murmur of disapproval arose. Finally, the pakeha had assured him that he would send his friends from beyond the sea to see the wonders of Te Terata and Rotorua; they would bring trade and spend money like water for the benefit of the Arawa and the Ngapuhi.

Having thus spoken, using no mean quality of the oratorical power which is a natural gift of the Maori race, he produced Waka Nene's passport. This the chief (fortunately one of those who, like that veteran, had been taught to read and write by the early missionaries) perused with attention, while the whole tribe gazed with awe and reverence at the mysterious paper – the written word; the magic scroll! How often the herald of fate!

In this case, however, a triumphant success followed the perusal of the few lines in the handwriting, and signed with the name, of the great chief of the Ngapuhi, who, with more than a thousand warriors at his back, had formerly raided the Waikato and the Ngatimaru, carrying war and devastation through the length of the land.

"It is enough," he said, handing back the paper to Warwick. "The pakeha is a great rangatira. He is the friend of Waka Nene, who sent Erena to show him the great fountain and the hot breath of Ruapehu; he is now the friend of Hika-iro and all the lake tribes. As for you" – turning to Ngarara – "you are a bad man, a kuri, a tutæ. Go!"

The discomfited Ngarara slunk away, pursued by groans and hisses from the converted crowd, who, as is usual in such cases, were more vehement in their anger in proportion to the feeling of distrust which had marked their first impressions.

Peace having been restored, and the enemy routed with loss and dishonour, there remained no reason why Massinger should not devote the few days that remained to the exploration of this fascinating province of the wonderland. Rarely did the weather in that portion of the island remain steadfast to "set fair" for so many successive days as in this halcyon time.

Whether it was the excitement of the coming strife, which he could see by the manner of Warwick and Erena that they expected, the physical exhilaration produced by the medicated atmosphere, the association with the half-savage race, who now seemed ready to bow down before him almost with adoration, – one of these causes, or the whole combined, certainly found him in a condition of spiritual exaltation such as he had never before experienced, and in vain essayed to comprehend.

"After all," he told himself, "it will be my last holiday for months, possibly for years. I shall never, perhaps, have such another ideal wandering through a 'londe of faerye,' certainly never again have 'so fair a spirit to be my minister.' A region of marvels and magic, a tribe of simple children of nature, ready to do my bidding! In this life of ours, so sad and mysterious at times, such conditions cannot last; why, then, should not one frankly accept a fragment of Arcadia?"

He lost no time in communicating his change of plan to Erena, whose features wore so radiant a smile at the announcement that he saw in it the fullest confirmation of the wisdom of his decision.