AS MAN-EATERS GO

Ashburton Guardian, Volume 58, Issue 289, 17 September 1938, Page 9

AS MAN-EATERS GO

A Story of Adventure Among the Maoris.

CHAPTER 14. It was Hiwa who brought tho first authentic tidings to me. One glorious evening in tho late summer, when the whaling vessel had been anchored in tho Bay upwards of two months, Hiwa returned to tho fortress after several days’ absence at the station. .Moodily he ate his meal, and moodily ho paced slowly, up and down the marae.

As ho passed my whare, outside of which I was seated according to my custom at that hour, ho stopped, bending his piercing eyes upon me. It needed no great concentration to perceive that he was troubled, but 1 did not speak, knowing full well that had lie anything to say to me he would say it without any prompting on my part. At length ho walked toward me and cast himself down on tho ground. “The shadows lie deep upon the eyes of the chief, of Hiwa,” I said at last. “Indeed, they do,” replied he in a low voice, pausing for some minutes. “And the cause?” I went on. “Yonder.” Without raising his eyes from the ground, ho pointed toward the Bay. “Are matters not going well there, then?” I continued, my slumbering fears awakening. “Tho white men have strange gods—more powerful even than the Maori gods. They have loosed them among my people; much harm has been done; more will surely be done if the widewinged canoe does not soon sail beyond the sky rim, whence it came.” “Has there been fighting?” I asked when he again paused. “Had there been, then, perhaps, my heart would not now be heavy within me.” “What has caused the trouble?” 1 asked desperately, rising to my feet. “It is that which the white man has given the Maori to drink. His demonpossessed water. At first it terrorised them, then they craved it, and now they are working from the rising of the sun till the setting—and longer—to purchase a mouthful. It has crazed them; no good can come of it.” And he shook his hoary head as ho once more bowed it upon his chest. I could well imagine the havoc rum would play among the Maoris and my blood boiled as I thought of the whalers spongeing on the native craving, a craving they had deliberately fostered. A day’s work for a mouthful of rum! It was a sad thought, but there was nothing I could say iu answer to tho hidden challenge contained in the chief’s troubled utterances.

A fine old representative of a noble race, he was too proud to ask directly for help in his extremity, but somehow it seemed he relied on me to do something to break the evil spell which had been cast upon his followers. After a period of reflection, I decided to make a journey to the coast and seo for myself how matters stood at the station, hoping thereafter to be able to hit upon a solution of the difficulty. Perhaps Hiwa had exaggerated the position, and the trouble might not be as deep-rooted as appeared on the surface, though the persistence of the rumours I had heard convinced me there must be something in it. That night I made my preparations, and the rising sun saw me pass through the high carved gateway of the pa. 1 was alone, for Ilaumati had been at the station more than a week, having obtained my permission to journey there to view the white man’s wonders. Amid the shrieking of the dull-plumaged, swift-running weka, and the harsh chattering of the brightly-arrayed kaka, a native parrot, I pursued my way, fear of what I might find at my journey’s end lending length to my stride. Down the well-defined track I went, being plentifully besprinkled -with dew as I pushed by the thick undergrowth flanking the water-worn path. Busy with my speculations I had come within a mile of the beach when I heard voices ahead of me. Treading on the deep, mossy bush mould, I had made no sound as I progressed and my presence could not have been known to those in front. To this day I do not know what made me step aside into tho bush and hido myself. It was instinct, I dare say. But hide myself I did, remaining perfectly still behind the thickly-leafed plants. As the speakers approached, I heard English spoken by one of the men, and replies given in a broken manner, apparently by a native, who would have had ample opportunity in the past two months to pick up a smattering of the language. Near the bush behind which I stood, like a statue, the sailor dropped the short-handled axe he was carrying and, without pausing in his speech, he stooped to pick it up. “ . . . . your son wants her, does he? And this pakeha. no good, kill, eh?” “fes. Pakeha. Kill. Yes, yes; no good. Kill him, you?” said tho second voice. “What you give seo him killed, ch?” went on the sailor as tho pair continued on up the track I had so lately trod. The Maori’s reply I could not hear, though my ears were at the stretch; so, giving them time to proceed, I silently slipped from my place of concealment and cautiously peered round the bushes after these precious conspirators. And a shock awaited me. The sailor was the gaudily-attired officer with, whom I had exchanged views on the beach the day the whaler arrived, and the native was none other than Mango, the tohunga! For some moments I stared at his broad brown back, when they vanished round a bend in the track; whereupon I came out of biding and recommenced my walk to the sea, reflecting on the wicked plot I had heard, and marvelling at the thought that had made me jump clear of the path when I first heard tho voices. Ho absorbed was I in my cogitations that I failed to hear the approach of

By J. HALKET MILLAR. :: Author of “The Bayl) Murder Case.

AH Rights Reserved.

footsteps ahead of me, and when I realised it, 1 barely had time to once more slip under cover to one side and watch for the newcomer. Ho was walking fast, with head inclined forward in a listening attitude, having, perhaps, licai’d the faint rustle of leaves made by'my hasty retreat. As he swung past I recognised, with a start, my faithful slave. “R,aumati!” I called. “’Tis I, the White Heron!” And forthwith stepped from cover. At the first word he had turned in a hash, but as he caught sight of me his grave face beamed for a second before it once more assumed its former state. “The White Heron!” ho breathed. Then, placing a finger to his lips to enjoin silence, and glancing this way and that along the path; ho clutched me by the elbow, gently propelling me Lack into the bush; nor did he pause till we were out of hearing of chance passers by. When we had come to a halt, ho stood listening intently for some moments. Satisfied, he again turned to me, and speaking in a low voice:— “Even the forests of Tano have ears my master. Saw you aught of Mango and tho pakeha chief?” “Yes,” I said, somewhat mystified at these proceedings, “they passed mo not so long since ...” “Ah,” ho grunted. ‘<But they did not see me. I hid in the forest,” I added.

“It is well, my master. They plot against your life, and I was on my way to the pa to warn you.” “And how came you to know of this plot?” I asked, throwing him a grateful glance. “I am but a poor slave, master. They have taken away my mana, my prestige, and I may not bo heard in the councils of tho tribe. But they cannot take away my hearing. I heard Mango talk of the pakeha at the pa And there is only one pakeha there, master. I concealed myself and I overheard much of what was said. The white men plan to seize you and carry you to their great canoe so that Tu may wed tho kiritea.” His lust word meant “the fair skinned girl,” obviously, Ngaere. At thought of this wreched plot I clenched my fists and swore beneath my breath that Tu would never wed Ngaere so long as I had breath in my body. “So you risked your life for me,” I exclaimed, turning to Raumati. “You are brave, Raumati. Why did you do it?” “My lifo is of little worth, master, and I would gladly give it in your service,” he said simply. “And what is the next move?” I asked, unconsciously turning to him for guidance. “We must proceed cautiously, else all is lost,” he replied, speaking earnestly, and still in a low tone. “Well, the first thing I do is to see the pakehas down there,” I exclaimed. “No, no! It is not wise to proceed now. Two men have been stationed at the end of the patli leading to the sand and they will seize you as soon as you appear,” said Raumati. “But I must see what is going on,” I exclaimed. “It would not be wise,” he repealed. “At this hour most of the men are at work in the Bay. If you would know the strange things that are happening, you should await the darkness. I have a way to do it without danger to you.” The nature of his idea he did not convey. And shortly after, bidding me remain where I was, he left me. I heard him making his way through the thick bush, though truth to tell what sound he made would not have carried far. It was two hours later, as near as I could judge, when 1 again heard the rustle of leaves and ere long Raumati stood before me. Taking a bundle from beneath his cloak he unfolded several layers of large green leaves and displayed a goodly portion of cooked kumara, which he offered to me, together with several ship’s biscuits, these having been wrapped in a similar manner. How he came by them, he did not explain, and I thought it better not to ask.

Until the sun sank behind the wooded hill wo sat and discussed plans for our safe conduct to the station that night. By making a detour through the dense bush wo might easily have evaded the men guarding the end of the path, but I judged it prudent to fall in with Raumati’s scheme, which worked successfully, as will be shown. Having consumed tho remainder of the food, we rose as the shadows deepened in the always gloomy forest and, with Raumati as guide, set off. The sound of the surf was more plainly heard as we pushed our way along in the quickly gathering darkness, and at last, when the twinkle of lights from the factory came through the trees, my companion called a halt. According to our plan, I was to wait there'while Raumati went to tho native quarters for garments. These he brought back in a surprisingly short space of time, and I rapidly donned the two rough mats while he moistened a quantity of powdered ochre, called by the Maoris “kokowai,” and which they apply in liberal doses to their faces and bodies. Some of this concoction I was about to smear on my face and neck to hide their comparative whiteness when a series of shouts rang out from the direction of tho factory, to he followed after a brief interval by the sound of singing. “What is that?” I asked in a whisper. ( “That is what follows each day at tho time of fires,” he replied sadly. “Hark!” he added as a fresh outburst of yells floated along to us, conveying to my mind some idea of the devilish work the whalers w r ere carrying out with their issues of rum. Hastily I completed by disguise and we stepped out of the bush on to the sand, slowly walking toward tho revellers. Even in that dim light I could discern the changes that had been

wrought by tho whalers since last I viewed the beach. Tho unmistakable stench of oil-extracting processes early assailed my nose —tho reek was terrible. As we neared tho entrance to the path Raumati laid a hand on my arm and pointed. Looking where he indicated, I. presently made out the forms of four or five sailors as they lounged about, smoking, as 1 learned from the savoury odour ot tobacco that was waited to us on the night air. They were on watch in case I should come down .rom tho fortress. Well, good luck to : hem!

Sure in my disguise we passed close to them and presently were threading our day among the numerous groups of natives, many of whom were by now thoroughly intoxicated, shouting and laughing, and indeed performing like crated beings. In places men fought desperately. Attracted by shrill screams and raucous laughter, I mado my way toward a group of perhaps twenty people, and there J saw the depths ol bestiality into which the Maoris had been thrown. Shouting at tho top oi his voice, a warrior was belabouring a young woman with a heavy stick, the while the poor creature pleaded for moicy, and the onlookers shouted for joy. Not far away, another man was dragging a woman along the sand by her hail, which lie had twisted round his fingers. This performance was likewise greeted with laughter from the drunken fools who looked oil. “How long has this thing been going on?” I asked Raumati as we turned away in disgust. “For days, now,” he said. We walked to the factory then and [ discovered that, with the exception of the men on guard at tho path, all the whalers had shut themselves in. (To be continued.)