RANGI THE CHIEF.

Otago Witness, Issue 2026, 22 December 1892, Page 22

RANGI THE CHIEF.

A IEGEND OF THE EIST COAST.

Specially Written for the Witness Christmas

Number of 1892.

By E. HUDSON.

It ia morning— not yet time for the morning fires to be lighted, nor for the women to draw water, nor for the kumera planters to go forth to their labgur. The very winds seem asleep ; a deep silence reigns, broken only by the murmur of the ever restless sea —yet it is morning, for the morning star is blazing in the purple sky. Rangi the chief stands outside his whare, upright, still as a statue, his finely-woven flax mat falling over one shoulder, his right hand grasping a spear. Rangi's noble and closely tatooed countenance is inscrutable, bub Rangi's heart is perplexed within him, for he has awakened suddenly, unaccountably, from a .dream of being speatel These ore omens, but whether of good or of evil who shall declare ?

Rangi sends his keen glance around. The pa crowns a bold headland, overlooking on one hand the broad ocean, on the other an exquisite little land-locked bay. The shores of this bay are to the right hand steep, indented, and clothed to the, very water's edge with verdurous forest; the opposite beach is a long 'straight reach of yellow sand, with a background of bare brown hills. It is ebb tide, and the surf, which in stormy weather beats and thunders on the bar, has Bunken its voice. One might fancy it the breathing of come sleeping giant. Silently Rangi passes the stockade, and standß on the hill side overlooking the sea, wide, mysterious, dim in the starlight. Kangi casts an uneasy glance over his left shoulder, for down in that flax swamp, half a mile off, a taniwha dwells. Anon he looks downward, and starts back in horror: he had almost trodden on a lizard. Another omen 1 These things are not to be lightly passed over. Rangi will consult a tohunga this day. It may be that Borne karakia of his will avert the evil. Now the stars begin to pale. Over the long low range of hills across the bay the, first faint streaks of dawn appear. Again Rangi looks seaward, and in the misty uncertain light what is this he sees 1 A canoe, with neither sail nor paddle, and with but one occupant — a woman. Is this Borne cunning device of the enemy? Will a fleet of war oanoes round the bluff and surprise the pa 1 ■ With a few swift vigorous strides Kangi reaches higher ground, and his keen glance sweeps the ocean, but save for that one canoe drifting helplessly there the vast expanso is vacant. Rangi turns away with a sense of disappointment. The " grumbling , months" are past, food is becoming more plentiful, the sun shines bright, and the days are lengthening. All things invite to war. Well, it is but waiting a week or two longer; if the enemy will not seGk them, they must seek the enemy. In a short time a war party will set out, and Rangi the chief will head it. Again he examines the canoe, thinking meanwhile of his dream; for, as all men know, to dream of being speared means that next day you will meet a friend. Who knows > He rans lightly down the steep incline to a little creek, where are many canoes. In one of these the significant red pole is stuck —it is tapu. Carefully avoiding it, Rangi launches one of the smallest, and skims across the sea, blue now as the sky and flashing in the light of the rising sun, and is soon at the stranger's side. She tells her story briefly and with simplicity. She is Aroha, sister of Te Kooti, chief of a hapu living far up at the head of the bay, between whom and Rangi's tribe there is chronic warfare. Now her, brother 1 would, have, married her to bis friend Rata,

a lazy fellow, "forward to eat, buh not to work," and no warrior. But Aroha' had heard of Rangi, of his prowess in battle, of his moving eloquence, of his beauty, and his noble temper; so she loved him, and had fled from her home for his sake, but losing her paddle she was drifting helplessly further and further from land when he found her.

Now this story pleased Rangi mightily— it was like the legend of Tini-rau and Hine-te-iwaiwa; and Aroha, he thought, must be even more beautiful than Hine. She bad suoh soft dark eyes, such milk-white teeth, and such a finely tatooed chin ; and she was strong withal, to plant and dig the kumera, to draw water, and carry the heavy burdens.

As for Aroha, she saw that Rangi was all she had imagined him— tall and noble, a chief, the son of a chief, a warrior nimble and brave. Thus they loved each other, and Rangi took her for his wife. Now as they climbed the steep hill path to the pa, Rmgi, marching first, spied a fine huia feather, black and glossy as jet, with a pure white tip— an adornment fit for a chief. With great satisfaction Rangi stuck it in bis own thick locks.

Arrived at the gate of the pa, he and Aroba drew aside to let the party of kumera planters pass, for they are tapu. In their midst marobes an old tohunga, carrying a red pole. This he will sec up in the kumera field, and that also will be tapu, for the year's food supply must be carefully guarded. Within the pa all is now life and bustle. Here two fine young warriors are trying their strength in a wrestling match ; there, extended on the ground, a third submit! himself to the chisel of the tatooer, enduring the torture without a murmur, nerved thereto by the songs and the presence of a group of girls. Older women are busy weaving the fine soft flax mats; children are everywhere, shouting and laughing in the sunshine ; and the old chief, Te Ika, squats within his sacred enclosure, taking his moming meal in solitary state.

Now that night a most frightful and unexpected thiDg happened. When the moon appeared over the ranges Te Ika the chief arose and walked up and down in front of the whare runanga. Now this Te Ika was a very old man, and sacred almost as one of the gods, for he could trace his descent through many generations to that Ika v»ho came from Hawaiki in the canoe Te Arawa. He was an old man, I say, and could no longer lead forth his paople to battle, but his spirit was that of a young warrior eager for the fight, and his voice was still high and clear, so that all in the pa could hear hiß words. For as he paced up and down in front of the whare runanga the old chief bagan to speak, and he spoke of war, recalling many a fiercely-contested fight and hard-won victory. And what had been must be again. The time was come; the "grumbling months" — when one could but crouch in the whare all day long, half famißhed, and with nothing to do because the swamps and flooded creeks made marching impossible— this time of scarcity was past. ■ Summer was coming ; lot the warriors prepare themselves ; let them make ready the spear, the tomahawk, and the shield. Let the ovens be heated, for food— ;he food of men, of warriors— would soon be provided. Let them all eat of it, that the spirit of their brave enemies might pass into them, making them still braver. Now, as he harangued, the old chief paced up and down, faster and faster, till he was leaping like a young man, and his voice rose wild and shrill on the night air. And then in one instant it ceased. Like some great tree smitten by lightning the old chief fell to the ground— fell to rise no more. Then the voice of wailing was heard in the pa, and women cut themselves with sharp stones till the blood poured down. They placed the body of the old chief on a sacred platform, and for many days thereafter women and slaves were busy preparing stores of dried fish, shellfish, and fern-root for the great tangi that must follow. And Rangi was ohief of the hapu in his grandsire's stead. But Aotea, his younger brother, hated him, and he eaid : " Where is the huia feather that fell from the head of the great chief Te Ika 1 " Then the heart of Rangi died within him, because the person of a ohief is sacred, but his head most of all, and to touch anything that has rested thereon is death. Nevertheless he spoke of the matter to no one. That night, as he lay asleep in his whare, Aroha, his wife, touched him. He Bprang up, and stood listening. " It is nothing," he said, " nothing but the voice of the koe koea (cuokoo)." "Does the koe koea sing at midnight?" asked Aroha. "That is the voice of my brother, of Te Kooti. He has come in search of me, and I will not go.". "What then?" asked Rangi; but he knew the answer. "Warl" cried Aroha exultingly. "War, and Rangi the chief shall eat the hearts of bis enemies." But Rangi was silent. How could victory be for the man who had broken the tapu ? He Btole out, and kept guard over the pa till daylight. Three days afterward the war canoes of Te Kooti were descried coming down the bay with the moming tide. But Rangi and his people were ready. Manning their canoes, they met the enemy midway, and forced him to land. 80 there, on the long level stretch of sand, the battle was drawn up in array. Terrible looked the chief, with lines of red ochre like horrid gaßhes across head and face, but none more terrible than Rangi, and none bo noble, towering above all, and surveying the enemy with undaunted mien. Then out sprang Te Kooti, leaping and stamping, and brandishing his spear. 11 O Rangi 1 " he cried, " etealor of canoes I decoyerof women ! give back that which you have stolen ; return to me Aroha, daughter of Ringa-ringa. Beware 1 lam Te Kooti 1 " Rangi the chief laughed scornfully. • •• Te Kooti has the voice of a warrior," he said, " but the hand of a bußbandman. Why should he scold like a woman ?-*rCome, let us fight like men. I stole no canoe ; I deooyed no woman. The gods sent them ; the tide brought them ; I put out my hand and

took tihem. They are mice ; come then, and wrest them from me,"

So the fight began. All day it raged, but bj nightfall the tribe of R-ingi had beaten back the enemy, and routed them with great slaughter. So they returned to the pa victorious, but not" joyful, for in his own canoe, mortally wounded, lay Rangi, the beloved ohief.

The tohungas met them, waving green branches, and uttering the appointed karakias, while the women raised the tangi for those who were slain.

As for the chief, his wairiors carried him tenderly up the steep ascent to the pa, and laid him on the ground in front of the whare runanga. Then a tohunga stepped forward to examine the wound, but Rangi motioned him back. " Cease ; it is enough ; can you give life to one who has broken the tapu ? " Horrified, the priest drew back, and the doomed man was left to himself. He lay with his eyes closed. Aroha crouched at his side, her gaze fixed on his face. Suddenly he sat erect, and in a wild high voice gave the war cry of his hapu. He grasped his spear, but the Btrong right hand was palsied. He fell back with a groan, and Rangi the chief was dead. The handsome, the brave, the victorious Rangi, alas J Wise in council, eloquent, having the voice of the Korimako; nimble in the fight, frightful^ to look at, so that his enemies fled before him— Rangi the chief I Thus wailed the women, while the tears gushed like a fountain. "Rangi is dead," they cried. And presently the people began to add (but it was Aotea who said it first): "And Aroha, daughter of Ringa-ringa, has killed him. She is a witch. Did she not bewitoh the great chief Te Ika, so that he died the very day she entered our pa. Even so did she bewitch Rangi, so that the spears of his enemies prevailed against him. The witch shall die I" a .. Now Aroha bad sat by the body of her husband for seven days and seven nights, neither eating food nor drinking water, so when the people came to take her for a witch her body they found, but Aroha herself they found not, for she had returned to Hawaiki with the soul of her husband, Rangi the chief. [The End.]