THE TREASURE SEEKERS

Lyttelton Times, Volume CXIV, Issue 16326, 23 August 1913, Page 17

THE TREASURE SEEKERS

(By F. H. BODLE.) [All Ricnxs Reserved.] “Is it true, Jack?’’ Jack Patarangi, the half-caste mate of the two buslimen, nodded emphaticJack had been educated at To Auto Maori College, but the white blood in him came from a roaming stock, so that lie became—by choice —a wanderer. Charley Brenkley was a lean, wiry fellow of the New Zealand native-born. Joo Baker, the third man, was a Westralian. Ho was an old mate or mine in Tasmania and on the Galatea Plains, and it was from his lips that I heard this yarn. , “True as Gospel, boys,” answered Jack with great emphasis. .My father saw the piles or it- Besides, afterwards, when ho was dead, my mother told me the tale. Piles and piles of greenstone and gold, too, they 8£l “' Gold I” ejaculated Brenkley, sitting up stiff. “That’s so,” Jack -went on. My mother’s tribe has stowed it away for ages. They wait the coming of some great chief who shall make the Maori a strong people and shall free-the land of the pakeha 1 When he comes they will sell the treasure, buy guns and take their own land once again. All the tribes have such a hidden store of gold and greenstone.” “Do you think they over will rise?” Joe Baker grew interested. “ I do not know,” Jack answered. “ Sometimes when it is night and the ovening breeze sets the trees whispering, I near the. voices of my mother’s people and their ancestors. Then I see great visions for the future of the Maori. Once,” Jack puffed smoke thoughtfully, “ they were a great people. Somewhere in the Pacific Ocean there was a continent and the Maori was lord of it. Visions of tho past call them from sleep to-day and again they dream of being a great, free people. As I say, these thoughts come to mo at night-time, but with the morning sun my father’s blood leaps in my veins once more and I know the land is to the white men and their race.” “ But the cave, Jack. Do you know where it is?” Brenkley had heard many tales of such things and was athirst for clearer knowledge. “Yes, I know,” said the half-caste. “ But make no error about it, boys. No white man can ever get inside itIf he does he’s a dead white man, sure as sure.” “ But you say your father saw tho place,” Baker objected. “Yes, he saw it,” Jack answered. “ Some people found him about two months after. It was -said ho lost himself in the bush and died of starvation. But my mother told me a different story.” , “Did the Maoris kill him? asked Brenkley. “They tied him to a tree for three weeks. Then they carried, him into the heart of the bush and laid liis body in his blankets, as ono might lie who is lost and has given up all hope.” “Nice business,” Brenkley grunted and then after a pause, “ all tho same, I’m after that cave. Will you- show us where it is, Jack?” “Not for a million,” answered Jack with decision. “ They’d kill the three of us, for certain.” “But its near tho Waikato Heads, you €fiy. ,> “Yes. But that’s all I will say,” remarked Jack, preparing to go to bunk. “ Take it from me, boys, if you’re not tired of life, keep right away from that cave.” That was all that Jack Patarangi would toll them, but that much had set them on fire with curiosity and desire. By some means or other, the two white men decided they would find the cave and malco themselves rich. All tho winter through tho thought grew stronger within them that hero was a near road to wealth; and from much thinking the dangers seemed unreal and imaginary. Tho threo had taken a contract to fell bush, and by long, hard' _ work they averaged about twelve shillings a day each. When tho warm spring ;weather camo on they finished their job and, drawing substantial cheques, i left for civilisation. But Brenkley had an idea. There were a dozen or more old magazines in their hut, and in one of them Charley had como across a story of hypnotic suggestion.. It had fascinated him at tho time, and ho had thought about it for two or three days. From his thinking came the idea which is the cause of this tale. But being a prudent man, Brenkley did not tell either of his mates till ho and Joe Baker were alone in a se-cond-class “smoker,” on the road for Auckland and a “ high old time.” Thon lie unfolded it to the delighted Joe.

“Man, it’s great!” Joe cried enthusiastically. “Tho very best thing. We’ll get that haul all light,” and they fell to discussing plans. They arrived in Auckland that night, and on the following day the morning paper had this advertisement in its columns:—

WANTED, n Professional Hypnotist. Splendid chance for a capable man to ninko' a fortune. Apply, personally, to Theatrical, No. li, Carlton. Road.

There were two applicants that afternoon, and they cnoso Number 2, a fat-cheeked, keen-eyed little fellow, answering to the name of Stewart. Ho mesmerised Baker, and Brenkley looked on with approval while the West Australian did many and various acts at tho suggestion of Stewart. “You’ll do all right,” Charley said, when Joe came round, and knew nothing of what had happened. “You are the very man for the job. Now, listen. There’s a cave near tho Waikato Heads bung full of greenstono and gold, and other valuables the Maoris have hidden there. They won’t let a white man see it, but suppose we hire a launch at Onenunga ana go round to Ul6 Heads—it’s only forty miles. We’ll try and get one of tho old fellows there to hire himself to us for a fishing excursion. Want him to show us tno host fishing grounds. See?”

“But what has this to do with me?” asked Stewart.

“When it comes on a bit dark you’ve got to hypnotise the Maori/ explained Brenkley. “ When he’s under tho spell make him guide us to that cave. We’ll load up tho launch, leave him ashore, and bunk for Oneliunga. Its third shares for you if you do it. Arc you on?” “ It sounds promising,” Stewart answered; “but suppose there are Maoris at tho cave?”

“There won’t be,” Charley said decidedly. “They, won’t leave their fires at night; they’re too frightened of Taipos.”

“ Very well, then, I’m your man,” said the hypnotist. “When shall wo start?”

“ We’ll get a launch to-morrow,” returned Charley. “Reckon wo can

start tho day after.. Better bring a revolver with you, just in case, you know. Call to-morrow evening.” At the appointed day they left Onehunga in a fine, roomy oil launch, and slipped easily down the Manukau Harbour, They crossed over the bar at the harbour mouth, where tho ill-fated British warship Orpheus was wrecked, with the loss of nearly all her crew, tmany years back. There was a long, easy swell running, for even on a still dav tho waves beat heavily on the rugged West New Zealand coast, flung inshore with the weight of three thousand miles of ocean at their backs. Threo milos out from the foam-rimmed cliffs they ran steadily southward, till by four in the afternoon they were mossing tho tumbling waters of the Waikato bar. Two mues up river they came to a Maori settlement, and anbhored in front of it for the night. First of all things they desired to get on tho right side of the Natives and to this end they had purchased a gramophone and records .before they left Auckland, tobacco for tho men and' old women and many packets of cigarettes for the younger ladies. It was a jolly evening they spent in the scrub-walled Council Hall that night. Tho Maoris smoked and sang, and danced their wild “lmkas.” and tho gramophone whirled out songs and baud music till after midnight. Stewart was by way of being a conjuror and ho greatly mystified the simple-minded Natives w r ith his half-crown trick. Ho got an old Maori damo up on the plaform beside him and induced lior to cut open some potatoes. One by one ns they were opened,, h© found half-crowns hidden in tho tubers. Tho Maoris clustered round and watched eagerly. As each now cut disclosed the shining silver coin, tho chorus of “By Gorrys ” and “Owis” grew louder and more full of astonishment. Suddenly the ancient lady noticed that Stewart was pocketing the half-crowns raid remembering that tho potatoes were her property, she soized tho dish and ran off to her own hut to secure tho money for herself. History does not 6ay whether she was successful or not, but it is a fact that early next morning enough potatoes for month’s supply wore withdrawn from their pits, presumably for the purpose of extracting half-crowns.

Next Morning Brenkley and Joo camo ashore again and made friends with old Wiki, the tattoed cliief of tho hapu. Ho was invited to come for threo days’ fishing and in return for showing them good places to cast lines, was to receive £1 a day. Wiki was greatly tickled with tho prespect of sitting still and smoking in the launch for such a golden return. “ I show you where the tamuri burrow,” he remarked in dignified accents.

“You like the ’trong fight? Good. I take you to tho lcainga of the pioki. My peoplo catch the fish of. these coasts for many, many years and from them I learn the ways of tho waterdwellers.” Ho was true to his boasting. They hauled in the great twelve pound sclinnpper, almost as soon as lines were lowered, till at midday the white men grow weary of tho exercise. For dinner the launch-owner sliced off huge steaks of the tender fish and fried the boneless delicacy in flour. ‘ 1 By_gorry ! too nice,” Wiki remarked and fell to pleasant thoughts of his easily-earned sovereign. After dinner tho old white-haired chief steered tho launch through the heaving waters of the rivermouth and down along the coast. “Now catch mn the pioki,” 110 ordered, puffing lazily at his blaok-burned briar.

In less time than it takes to, tell, Joe had hooked a green monster and called loudly for assistance. Wiki and Brenkley sprang to his aid and at that moment, another shark took Charley’s hook.

“Purr him in,” chanted the chief. “Bo ’trong! Hee yal Heo yol”. Ho coughed out tho last syllable of his exclamations sharply and with it, hauled more strongly. Inch by inch they fought the shark up to tho surface and then the 6pray began to fly. Bronkley, meanwhile, kept his capture deep below, that tho lines might not be over-tangled. Joe’s fish lay still on tho surfaco a second and ziszl tho line ran through their fingers like hot searing irons. But “Bo ’trong. Heo yal Heo yo!” called Wiki, tho sweat running down liis face.

Jip and up they dragged their unwilling captive, till in the end he hung besido tho boat, thrashing tho water with his tail so that the fishermen were drenched. Joe leaned half over and aimed a blow at tho shark’s nose with his club. That is tho most vulnerable point of tho fierco fish, and Baker hit at it with all his might. I3ut the noso dropped down below tho. water-level and the weight of tho blow smacked noisily against the waves. “No good! I show you,” Wiki cried and seized tho club. Onco, twice, thrice lie smashed tho club against tho blunt-edged nose and the ten feet of savago life quivered and lay still-

“Taihoa!” exclaimed Wiki suddenly, and leaning over, ho dug with a long sharp knifo at tho interior of the fish. , In a little time he extracted the liver and when asked tho reason of this deed, nodded sagely. “ By-um-by the young men cook it. By-um-by eat it. Make-um too ’trong for tho fight.” And when Brenkley’s shark was killed also lio repeated tho deed. At sundown they drew back across the river entrance and anchored by tho shore a long way from the village. Wiki was plied with tobacco, and when

didleness covered land and sea and. river, Stewart began his campaign. At first Wiki was full of wonder and a little suspicion, but the two other whit© men and the boatman took no notice, feigning sleep. In the end Stewart worked his way nearer and nearer to tho chief, waving his hands ai.'d chanting mystically. “Frighten for thb Taipol” Wiki grunted almost contemptuously and took no futher notice.

Little by little the old man’s eyes closed, quivering, half opening and at the last, staying tight-shut. “Stand up I” Stewart cried suddenly. Wiki arose on the instant and stood waiting further commands. “ Now steer to the place where we may reach the treasure cave,” Stewart called sharply. Wiki’s eyes bulged wide open now, but he said no word. “Do you hear? Steer to the place where wo may go to the treasure cave,” Stewart said slowly and clearly. All his training was against it. His ancestors held him back, his own desires urged him to resist. But his will lay under command of, the white man and though his inner consciousness rebelled, he walked steadily to the stern and the tiller.

“Right ohl” Brenkley called softly, when the anchor - was up. “Slow ahead !” Stewart stood beside *Wiki and occasionally spoke to the old man. They ran downstream, and Wiki called the boat to a stop in the deeper darkness of a cliff-shadow. “Get into tho boat, Wiki, and take us to the cave,” Stewart ordered. Wiki obeyed mechanically. The inner soul of him had, unknown to his consciousness, fought against tho will of the white man and lost its battle. He led the three men' from the beach up a harrow path to the summit of tho cliff. • , . ~ “Take us to the cave, .Wiki, again Stewart commanded. He halted them before a solid face of rock, perhaps twenty feet high. There was no sign of an entrance, yet Stewart was hopeful. “ Lead us into the cave,” said the hypnotist sternly, changing his tactics a little. ,' ' . , With a groan the old fellow pushed, his hand against tho black wall of stone and pressing at the same time with his feet, leaned heavily inwards. There was a half-heard creaking, and then silence. Before the three white men there gaped a square black hole. j “ Go in, Wiki,” Stewart ordered and the others followed behind them. The four men were hardly inside, when tho stone door closed sharply, perhaps working on a pivot. Stewart had an electric torch and turned it quickly to where the door had been. But he could find no indication of such a thing and turned away almost with a shiver. “ Bit uncanny, ain’t it ?” Brenkley’s voice echoed eerily among tho passages. “Never mind, the old coon can show us the way out.” “ Take us to the treasure, Wiki,” Stewart called. The echoes of his voice sounded as demon laughter from the distant darkness and for the first time, the men felt little liking for the task they had set themselves.

But Brenkley puled himself together. “Damn it, boys, ire aren’t old women. Stir him up, Stewart.” But Wiki led straight on into the darkness and Stewart’s torch showed the narrow line of the passage-walls. “ Lead us to the treasure. Wiki,” Stewart called again as the. chief stood still.

The old man 6tood upright, moving uneasily with his feet, as if standing ori hot iron. The light from the three torches rested full on the caiwen brow.'i face and the threo white men waited expectantly. Suddenly, as by magic, the solid stone of the floor yawned downward and like a shadow, the old chief vanished through tho opening. Joe's torch dropped from his hand in his amazement, and mingling with the noise of its fall, thero was a snap, as tho stone slid back to place, even as -the first door had done.

The meaning of their position did not at first dawn on the white men. They stared stupidly at each other, and Brenkley laughed foolishly. “Disappearing trick, eh ?” he, cried, but the echoing laughter from the rock walls of their prison, hit him to silence. '

“ Better look round a bit,” suggested Stewart. “Put your torches out; die light at a time’s enough.” They moved on down the passage aiid the corridor widened iuto a fairsized room. Something white shone in the torchlight and they walked nearer. Suddenly Stewart drew back. “A skeleton 1” lie cried a little unsteadily, for their nerves grew raw. He whirled the tiny spark to left and right, and the light- lay on lines of fleshless figures, sitting stiffly against the wall. Behind them in the darkness was the patter of little feet and they half-held their breaths. “Only a rat,” Charley said and forgetting tho echoes they laughed at their tears.

But the laugh was taken up with demon swiftness and rose and fell in ugly, shrieking, cadences, till it faded into distant long-drawn, Sobbing wails. There was a scattering of many, little feet and a bone fell from one of the skeletons.

“By God, boys, I can’t stand this,” Brenkley called huskily. “ Let’s get out.”

It became the one desire, and they ran back along the passage. Brenkiey held the only lit torch and ran swiftly,. bu,t suddenly ho broke into a shriek, and, clawing at the air, dropped downward, as Wiki had dono. Joe clicked liis torch to brightness, and by its light two white facesstared. at each other. From away below, somewhere in the bowels of the earth; came distant rumbling and a faint edge of Brenkley’s shriek. In silence thoy stared at each other, and then Stewart- broke into silly weeping. “Here, chuck it! ■ Joe called angrily. “It’s bad enough without you starting those damned echoes going. Shut up, I say.” They wandered up and down for, many hours, seeking a way out but finding none. At last Joo turned to speak to Stewart, hut the light of his torch rested on the grim, unanswering walls and the further darkness gave no sign of life. “ Stewart 1 Stewart 1” ho called frantically, and again, “ Stewart 1” But though tho echoes mocked him fiercely there was no human answer. “Stew —artl Ew—art!” the voices rose and fell, calling to each other from tile darkness. Joe dashed backwards into the room Ho raced madly about, seeking his companion. Bis foot caught on one of the skeletons, and he tripped and fell, hugging at the awful thing, and then, when lie realised, striking at it savagely. How long he was, there lie never really knew —or cared to think. It soemed years, centuries, an eternity of agony. ' For a time he called his friends, recklessly heedless, of the echoes, but in the end their devilish yelling and laughter frightened him to silence. He dragged himself wearily along the. passages, in darkness now, for he wished to savo his light for an emergency. At times'ho broke into cursings and then fell to his knees and prayed as he h/id never been used to. He had almost given up all hope and resolved to lay himself down to die, when lie felt the floor sinking beneath him. With all his weight ho pressed downward, for anything was better than a slow death in this fearliaunted cave. The stone dropped slowly at first and then suddenly shot him down to a sloping stone slide. Oil liis back he slitliorcd down and downward, but as lie* slipped ho clicked bis torch and threw the light around him. Tho rays struck on sloping rock shelves and flashed hack from yellow

bars. There was a glimmer of green heaps as he shot down past the hiding place and then bare walls hemmed him in. Bumped, bruised and bleeding, clothes torn to shreds, he slid swiftly down, down, down into unending darkness. There was a rippling of water below him and'ho sank swiftly into the black depths. Hi 3 hand hit against a rock as he came up, and he hauled himself on to a dry ledge. The torch was not damaged-—lie had held it dear as ho slid down—and he threw the light around.

A pitiful voice called to him out of the darknesa

“Baker, is that you?” it quavered, sobbingly.' ; Joe did not recognise the voice, but the huddled figure of Stewart crawled towards him. But between them \vas a still heap, and Stewart screamed huskily. The torchlight flickered down and rested on tho set faces of Brenkley and Wiki, the chief. They lay stiff and still, their fingers at each other’s throats, the tense-drawn lines of clioked-out life still on their faces. “ Here I come away,” Joe cried savagely. “ I’m going into the water. If it gets iii, there must be a way out.” .

Stewart dropped in beside him and they found that the water was not very deep; but the walls fell down, 60 that they walked huddled, all but their heads submerged. _ There was a faint suggestion of dim light ahead and they crawled towards it, leaving the two dead men behind, thinking only of the joy of God’s fresh air once more.

Dawn was brightening into .daylight when they found tlio boat and pulled to tlio launch. They woke up the launcliman and ordered him to start for home at once. It was not till they were over the bar and racing northward that Joe drew a free breath. “Poor old. Charley,” he muttered sadly, looking back at the distant Heads.

When funds were plentiful Jack Patarangi had a nice tasto in cigars. He puffed steadily and silently for a time'and then turned fiercely on Joe. “ You silly fool,” lie cried savagely: “ Didn’t I tell you that it was certain death. Oh, you mad fool!” Then, more softly, “Poor old Charley.”