AS MAN-EATERS GO

Ashburton Guardian, Volume 58, Issue 309, 11 October 1938, Page 3

AS MAN-EATERS GO

By J. HALKET MILLAR. : : Author, of “The Bayly Murder Case."

CHAPTER 35. Frantically i clutched him, assuring myself that it was indeed my old friend, alive and well. He looked down at me with a smile, and by and by bade me follow him before his torch burned out. 1 was full of questions and fired them at him so rapidly that he could not answer one before I was plying him with another. So, as we tramped along the narrow tunnel, at times bending low to avoid contact with the roof, and with Raumati leading, I gradually learnt of his doings since lie had left me at the fireside of the camp thirty miles to the /north. When he followed Mango he was prepared to find him consulting with Kapu and his men, but was not prepared to find the whalers there also. He had crawled close to the men and had heard the plans whereby they were to kill Raumati, Hiwa, and myself and so clear the roacl to Mango’s chieftainship of the Men of Oromahoe and Ngaere's marriage to Tu. These deeds were to be carried out at the fortress at Oromahoe, so Raumati knew that Nagere aud I would be safe on tlio journey south. In return for their services, past, present, and future, the whalers were to receive many privileges and a vast tract of land. Raumati’s next move was to gain his own fortress, gather a few picked men and make for the cave where the three of us had lived for so long, with the object of finding the Taipo, of whom he now held no fear. Two precious days were spent before finding the' Taipo, whom he counted on to play a big part in the scheme formed in his mind. The Taipo at once agreed to accom-

pany the party down, the coast. There they had arrived on the hills early one v morniing and, had seen the whalers carry Ngaere off, and latei-, the tohiuiga take me into the cave. By what means lie had secretly intrigued himself into the confidence of the natives accompanying the Whalers Raumati did not then tell me, though afterwards I learned that later threats to bring the dreaded demon upon them if they did not give up the kiritea, or compel the whites to do so, had the Maoris scared almost to death, for all of them had heard' the tales ,of the gruesome deeds committed by this unseen though potent spirit. Fully persuaded to carry out the rescue, they nevertheless feared the

murderous pakehas and their terrible weapons. So, menaced as they were by man on one hand and a devil on

the other, the hours passed and nothing was done. It was time to bring in the Taipo. Night was falling; the incessant gabble of men gathered round their fleshpots was at its height. Ngaere and her captors fed apart from the rabble,, though in truth Ngaere ate not at all. Through the open door of the whare in which they had taken shelter came the sound of noisy eating ancl the clamour of tongues. A distant kiwi with hoarse voice called to his mate and nearby in the bush a belated weka, ever inquisitive, strode through the rustling mould with audible inquiry.

The wliare was thick with tho pungent smoke from pipes stuffed with leaves, of the ti-tree; the whalers sprawled on beds of reeds on the floor. Then out of the half darkened hush rose the blood-curdling howl of the Taipo: “Ah-00-dt>-ooah-oohah 1 Ah! Ah!” Words, half uttered, died on lips round the fire and not a soul moved. Again came the cry, now closer at hand. Babel unci panic broke out among tho Maoris, The whalers crowded from the wliare, but before they could stir a hand they were bowled over by their terror-stricken followers, anxious at all cost to allay the wrath of the still, howling devil. To these savages the greater of the two evils was the Taipo. The whalers had no chance among these half-maddened men, who overwhelmed them before they could use their muskets. Two of them, their skulls battered in with billets of wood, lay dead by the doorway; the rest, unarmed, fled to the bush. Tho Taipo cried no more. They brought out the daughter of Hiwa, and Raumati and the whole band prepared for the journey back to the cave, for the Maoris would not have them go alone. Realising that I was a prisoner, Raumati had entered the vault in which I found him, by another entrance. There were no fewer than seven exits from the underground burial ground, he said. This, briefly, is what 1 learned as I followed Raumati out into the glare of the bright stmshine, where I stood blinking and rubbing my eyes.

“Where is Ngaere?” I asked when I had become accustomed to the bright light. “Yonder, on the hill top, we will find her,’’ he replied, and Sot off in that direction. “This is a great day for us all,” said I cheerily as we finished through the fern and bracken on the hillside. “To is dead. Mango is dead, and —” He snapped as he swung on me: “Mango dead?” “Yes, killed in the cave. He fell down a tomo.” “White Heron, the tohunga Mango is not dead.” “Not dead? Of course he is dead! T heard him fall into the underground river.” “You were tricked, my iriend,” he went on, smiling. “Mango I ell into the tomo—deliberately. It was no accident. f saw him swim, out of the hill on the bosom of the river.” 1 abandoned my questioning then; the answers 1 got were too bewildering to be absorbed at once. There, on the hill, wo saw Ngaere and, behind her the weird figure 1 had seen hounding down the mountain when Baumati and T had attacked the whalers after the siege of the fortress of Oriiru. With a glad cry Ngaere ran to me with outstretched arms; I folded her to my heart, whispering words of love

A Story of Adventure Among the Maoris.

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and happiness I need not now recall. Time had no meaning for ns then, but at last a hand fell on my shoulder, and looking up I beheld Raumati, grimvisaged, and with flashing eyes that almost startled me.

■‘'White Heron,” he said slowly, while he drew his magnificent form to its full height. “I have given you my friendship in the past. That is good. You gave me your protection when 1 was a slave. That, too, is good. As" we have been friends in the past, so we will remain—alee! ake! alee! For ever, and for ever, and for ever! Yon found me a slave; Igo back to my people free. My work here is. almost done. But there is one thing I would give you. Wait here. I will soon return.”

So saying, and scarcely waiting for an answer, he sprang down through the fern, being quickly lost to sight. From watching his retreating form I turned to the Taipo, who stood a short distance behind us. “You are English, are you not?” 1 said, advancing with outstretched hand. “Yes, mister, though I’m darned if I looks like one in this ’ore rig,’’ he replied, giving my hand a squeeze that made the bones crack. “Name of Jim Anderson, me! Short for James! Tnglish to the backbone, me!” He certainly 7 did not look like an Englishman, this big ragged fellow, with his fierce dark eyes burning in his hairy face, but my heart warmed to Rim, whatever lie called' himself. 1 called him a Man, and a gentleman at that.

“Batson is my name. Harry Batson,” 1 said. “Came out here in a whaler, and was captured after a fight with the natives.” “Well, Gawd bless me soul an’ shoe leather, if that aint funny. Same thing ’appened to liie —almost,’’ and he slapped his thigh with the palm of his hand, opening his mouth to roar with merriment; no doubt it was the reaction from the incidents of his- stormy career in New Zealand that made him laugh peal after peal. And I laughed with him till we both wondered what we were laughing at. “Your story must be an interesting one, if all the accounts I have heard are true,” I said, 31161" we had composed ourselves.

“Interestin’. .That’s the word, mister. I’ll tell ye all about it, if ye likes,” he replied. So while we awaited the return of Raumati from his mysterious expedition, we sat among the fern, and Anderson told bis tale. He had arrived on the shores of New Zealand about three years before in a whaling ship which called in at a harbour called Whangaroa to obtain fresh water and to gather fuel. He and his mates had been attacked by a large

party of Maoris and several having been killed he and a friend bad taken to the bush, eventually going into residence in the caves beyond the fortress of Oruru. Not long after this another vessel was attacked,. though the two castaway’s did not know of it till they 7 chanced to see the ship stranded on the shore. The natives were busy with their cannibal feast so they were enabled to climb on board in the dark. There they found a great quantiy of articles, many of which they managed to carry under cover of night to their retreat in the hills. Among there were kegs of powder. Knowing the superstitious character of all savage races they devised ways and means of terrorising the natives in the country surrounding their cave. Thus 1 they laid trains of powder and by setting them alight sent columns of smoke careering over the hills by day and flashes of fire by night. They had robbed luimara patches and had even crept into the pa one night and broken open a store house from which they stole all the dried eels they could layhands on. So it came about finally that their abode was as safe as 1 any could be in that land. Once they risked a big coup by ‘Setting fire to a village, using oil to assist their work. They had managed to keep out of the sight of the Maoris for many months. Then one day they had come suddenly face to face ivt.ih three natives with whom they fought. Anderson’s companion had been killed, but none of the natives liad escaped to give away the secret. Then came a day when he discovered that other white men had arrived in the country, and he decided to get in touch with them. One night he was amazed to hear his own language being spoken near his cave. He was on the point of calling out when he caught' one or two words that made him pause. There were four white men in conversation with three Maoris, planning the death of another white man because he was in love with a native girl. They were to attack the fortress where the white man was living, and one of the natives, who also lived there, was to kill the man if there was an opportunity. Anderson watched for his chance to communicate with the white man, bet dared not venture too near, for il lie showed him sell and the natives knew him for a human being alter all, lie might not he able to carry out his, rescue as successfully as if his identity remained a mystery-. He had frightened away the taua which attacked the fort and had lain awaiting dev.d >]> monts. When he saw them on the run ho surmised that the white man would venture out after them, and he was right. He had seen the mail he wished to save cornered by the four sailors

and rushed to the rescue, but not arriving in time to save both no and lin native friend from being struck io.vn. It was not lie who hncl wounded ns that day, be declared. Ho bad tlun taken the white man to the cave in the hills, and the rest of the story ve knew. As Anderson concluded he Mi row out his hands in an expressive gesture, and glanced from Ngaere to me, and back again to Ngaere. “Where did you go after you took me to the cave?” I asked. “Scourin’ round tryin’ to ‘op’ rate the whalers from the natives ’canso they was the main trouble all the time, I tried to send them niggers packin’, but I missed.” “I owe you a lot, Anderson, Mister

Anderson, hut I cannot put my thanks into words.” 1 said, taking him by the hand. “That’s alright, mister. Nothin’ at all, nothin’ at all.” I would have said more, but An.lersou suddenly jumped to bis feet .;i"l pointed into the valley 7. Turning, 1 v«s just in time to see a- flying figure disappear on the farther side of a small open space in the hush. “Mango!” cried Ngacre, who had

also turned. Next moment another brown figure shot into view in hot pursuit. I had no difficulty ill recognising Raumati, but we could only stare and wonder what it all meant. A faint shriek, far off in the silent forest, floated up to.us. Ngaere laid a hand on my arm and looked at me. For something like a quarter of an hour wo waited, when there was a movement in the fern below us and the head )i I?aumati came into view.

When he came closer 1 noticed he held something in his left ha wc.. Ibis he flung on the ground at mv feet with a most contemptuous gesture. “My gift to you, White Heron!” he said. * 1 saw it was a lnupan head. Anderson turned it over with his foot. Before me, an evil grin still upon I.is cruel lips, lay the head of Mango, the tohunga. I turned away with Ngaere, but for a brief space Anderson stayed behind with llaumati and the fallen head of our common foe. CHAPTER, 30. Little now remains ,to be said. Hiwa soon recovered from his wounds and was overjoyed at the safe return of his only daughter. When tokl of the fate of Mango and of his soil he merely 7 grunted in true Maori style. The gods had destroyed his enemies,j and all was well. Ngaere grieved over the ashes of our wliare, but we built another in its place, and ere long she was her okl sweet self, busy with the cares of her quaint household duties.

Anderson at first caused much con sternation among the men of Gromahoe, hut they accepted him in time, though the children still ran from him in terror, much to his discomforture. “I aint a taipo, leastways not now,” he used to say. “I’m just a. ornery sailorman, me!” Eaumati did not long remain with us, hut sought his northern home after bidding me a farewell that will ever linger in the halls of my memory. The two remaining whalers had been captured; by Eaumati’s party and tycen. brought to the fortress, where, as soon as he cast eyes upon them Hiwa desired to knock out their brains forthwith. This I could not permit, however, and they were allowed to live, having my protection till such time as a ship would put in and take them away. They were really' prisoners, however, never being allowed to leave the pa, and became the drudges of the tribe.

So affairs stood for five or six weeks, when a runner brought news of the arrival of a “wide-winged” canoe in the Bay of Islands. As before, half the populace encamped on the shore, but this time I early bad an opportunity to warn the captain, and lie waited ashore only so long as it took his men to replenish the water casks. He took the two whalers with him and, of course, Anderson went, too. With him I sent a long letter that was destined to bring much joy, first to my people in England and afterwards to Ngaere and me. The hour for sailing was fixed for dawn, and just before the last boat moved off from the shore Anderson came to me. “Sure y’ aint coinin’ home, mister?” he asked. But I. shook my head, pointing- to where Ngaere stood watching the final scenes. He understood, and with a hearty shake of my hand he strode down*to the boat and climbed in. An hour later the vessel was on its way out of the hay. Together Ngaere and I stlTocl l and watched it disappear around the distant headland, hound, as Anderson said, for home. But for me home was where the heart was; so we turned back to the camp on the edge of the forest, where the blue smoke from the cooking ovens lazily mounted upward in the still morning air. (The End.)