FICTION

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1686, 22 June 1904, Page 3

FICTION

CAPTAIN SHEEN, ADVENTURER

AN HISTORICAL ROMANCE OF NEW ZEALAND,

(BY CHARLES OWEN.)

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

CHAPTER IX.

A wilder or more barren spot than Kapiti could hardly be imagined. At this time the head-quarters of le Rauparaha, impregnable to his enemies and, one of the most central spots in New Zealand for the rapidly increasing European trade. He was in close touch with Waikanae and Porirua; while Otaki, a big native settlement, was within easy reach. The population of Taipiro, the stronghold of the tribe, on Kapiti, was not large, and the Ngatitoa’s power could not be measured by numbers so much as by the remarkable personalities of the two men who led them. The second of these, Rangihaeata, met us as we landed, the most noticeable figure in a crowd of gesticulating and excited natives. He differed greatly, however, from Te Rauparaha. Though equally fierce, he act ed chiefly upon impulse and his varying moods were the outcome of the passion of the moment. He scorned diplomacy, preferring force. Dauntless and bloodthirsty, proud, overbearing and determined, his unreason'ng hatred of the white man had to be taken into consideration in all dealings with the Ngatitoa. With us he was cold, reserved and suspicious, and had we been ar his mercy, unprotected by the diplomatic policy of the more powerful and far seeing Te Rauparaha, we should have fared ill. /• That night we were feasted and entertained in the pah. Off the island lay our brig, and for ail the iviaoris knew to the contrary she was loaded with muskets. The whole ambition of the Ngatitoa at this time, as of other tribes, was to be armed. The white

trader had brought them many things on his stray visits, blessmgs as well as curses, but out of all the native leaders had chosen the death-dealing musket as the most desirable. Though a matter of history, I had personal experience

of it in Sheen’s dealings with Te Rauparaha and Rangihaeata. The two chiefs intimated that the most acceptable payment for their services, at any time, was muskets, and Sheen answer-•ed-them that he only had a few aboard,

but he would sail his br.g to Australia, where he had more, after he had visited Waipounamu. From Australia he could bring muskets in plenty. His manner was unmatched for boastful-

ness and brag. Rangihaeata still demurred. He asked what assurance the Maori had that the pakeha would ever return. Sheen told him a white man’<=

word was his bond. The chief laughed, his sole reply—a just,- if scornful, comment on the class of Englishmen he’d dealt with. As soon as we were alone in the whare set aside for us, I asked Sheen what plans we were to follow, and in what way Te Rauparaha was connected with them. Ooulished, whose nerves stood the strain of native intercourse badly, had been so overcome that he took no parr in our discussion.

“I’m Captain,” Sheen said pompously in answer to my question. “I’m not denying that,” I replied, “but what was our object in coming ashore ?”

For a moment Sheen was silent. “Well,”_he said then, “just to see what I could pick up. We’re a bit like a ship sailing by a broken compass without a chart. The Sou’west coast - is a bad ’un, and if I can get hold of a Maori pilot who knows it, I fancy he’d be worth our few hours ashore, don’t ; you ?” I had to admit he would, while the ... Captain smiled at me with evident pride, in bis own wise foresight. We'dropped the subject,* and throwing myself on some fresh fern in the corner of the whare, I slept soundly «the whole night, in spite of our unusual surroundings. At the first gleam of dawn, I was aroused by Coulished, whose stooping figure filled the open doorway, calling softly:— “Dan! Dan! Dan l” Springing up quickly as a man does suddenly awakened, I crossed to Sheen, ,who was stirring restlessly and shook hipj. - “What’s the matter?” he grumbled stupidly, “it isn’t light yet.” “My God, Sheen.” cried Coulished with a penetrating note of terror in his voice., “where’s the brig ? The brig!”

'What ?” gasped the Captain. “The brig’s gone,” repeated Coulished. “Don’t you hoar? Gone! Gone! And we’re left here among these ■ damned savages, alone!” ■ Sheen leaped to his feet. Speaking* never a word he rushed out into the new da3 r , which now threatened us ' with new dangers. I followed him while Coblished ran in front of us

snivelling and wringing his hands hopelessly. The pah was silent as a grave. A few moments and we had •left the beaten track and were down on the beach. His words were true. The brig had gone. There was no sign of her in the place where we had left her safely anchored but a few hours before —no sign of ship or sail as far as our eyes could see. The Captain, muttering a curset turned quickly towards a rocky ridge that ascended almost precipitously from the beach a.t our feet and began to climb it with wonderful agility, Coulislied and I following as fast as we could. T T p and up we climbed with hands and fecc, clutching hold of bush or tree or anything that would help us until we reached a point commanding the whole strait. The brig, just in sight, was under full sail, away past the opening of what is now called Port Nicholson harbour, making for the open sea. Captain Sheen stood gazing after her b s huge form stiff and motionless as a suitue on the steep and barren headland. Coulislied, panting, stood near him, I a few paces back. At length Sheen recovered breath enough to speak. “Logan! You damn treacherous hound!” he gasped, shaking his fist at the vanishing brig. “You had better have taken my advice, Dan,” suggested Coulislied in foolish iteration of the old grievance about the mate.

The Captain turned the whole force of his anger against him. “What do you mean?” he roared, with an oath.

“We’re as good as marooned whined Coulislied.

“Well, what if marooned,” stormed the Captain, “haven’t I been worse than marooned before now S” “But whose fault is it. Dan?” asked Oouli shed aggravatingly. “Fault!” echoed Sheen, amazed and maddened at being taken to task for an unexpected accident.

“Yes. whose fault?” repeated Con fished-. Sheen's face grew livid with pent up rage and his eyes fairly blazed. With a gasp that was more like the growl of a wild beast than of a man. ho seized Coulislied by the shoulders and shook him as a dog would, worrying a rat.

“The, man who talks to me of fault must bo a man,” he hissed through his clenched teeth. “You blarsted cur! You sneaking dog! You devil of a land-lub-ber ! You J udas! ” and so on through a long list of more or less just accusations of the same kind. When it seemed to me that Coulished had suffered enough, I ventured to interfere. “Waste no mors time cursing him,” I urged. “It’ll need all our wits to find a way out of the fix in which these treacherous dogs have landed us ” Sheen, giving his victim a final shako, so fierce that it threatened to separate him limb from li.mbj flung him on to the hard rock, regardless whether or not ho rolled over the steep cliff, and turning to me made something of an effort to curb his passion. “Well said, Caspar,” he said, the rage dying out of his face, a thoughtful look taking its place. “There’s no passage so'full of rocks but there’s a channel out.” Once more he turned to look at ho little brig, its sails a white speck in the extreme distance. The dawn had brightened into day and gleams of sunshine had changed the grey sea into rippled silver. Suddenly the Captain went up to Coulished, who still lay where ne had been thrown, and gave him a kick. “Get up, will you,” he ordered, “there’s no time for haggling; we must turn about and try a new tack. As soon a, 3 those black devils find we’ve been deserted they’ll likely want to knock us on the head. We must meet them with a bold face, it’s our only chance of safety.” Coulished got slowly on to his feet. A more craven and dejected creature 1 have never seen. He never so much as lifted his tearful eyes to Sheen, who treated him with the crudest contempt. “Humph! You don’t look a tempting morsel for a meal. Martin,” he said, manifestly enjoying the grimness of the suggestion, “but you never know a oannibal’s taste, You might be turning on the spit before six o’clock to-night for all I can tell. I take the helm this trip, but damn you, Martin, if you fail me I’ll blow out all the brains you ever bad in that figurehead of your. Mind, both of you, not a word that we’ve been deserted. That brig’s sailed for Port Jackson after the muskets we talked about last night. We’ll go in straight from despatching her. Come on ! Hold up your jib.” Poor Coulislied stood stock still, with hopeless face and chattering teeth. “He’ll be a bad backer for that tale,” I said, with a nod towards him. “He will that,” assented the Captain. “It’d pay us handsomely to chuck him overboard and spin a yarn that he’d gone to Australia with Logan, on the brig. - For a moment the Captain looked "as if he intended putting the threat into execution. Coulished glanced across at me beseechingly.

“Mirrimy, you’d never be a party to cold-blooded murder,” he cried, with pitious appeal. “For God’s sake play the man,” I urged. “We’re all in the same boat.

Pluck up your courage and it’ll be better for us all.”

Sheen turned away with a gesture, of impatience and began clambering clown ihe headland, we two following. About halfway down the Captain glanced over his shoulder at Coulished’s blanched face.

“We’ll sell him as a slave to the great chief, Caspar,” he said with a grin. Stimulated by the Captain’s-gibes and threats, and realising the necessity of putting on a bold front Coulished tried to pull himself together as we approached the pah, but even then he was a poor sponsor to the lie we had to tell. The pah was all astir as we entered it. A first glance made it evident that the knowledge of the brig’s departure had already quickly spread. Knots, of excited natives were discussion it outside the wliare. Those whom we passed looked askance at us. The stranded pakeha, was not treated with the same deference as the pakeha rangatira with a largo store of muskets at his command. Sheen looked at them condescendingly, until his eyes lighted on Te liauparaha and Rnngihaeata, standing together at the far end of the pah. ani ho at once made his way towards them. Observing this the Maoris began to collect. Ho walked straight up to the two chiefs, with Coulished and me close at his heels, followed by a crowd of natives yelling and gesticulating wildly-

“Tona-kourua,” he said affably, his hand held out in friendly greeting. By this time nearly all the men and women in the pah had closed aiound us. We three white men stood in a small open space fenced in by a ring of fierce brown faces. Rangitaeata was the first to break the silence.

“Where is the bird with big white wings that brought you to us?”-lie asked coldly, unheeding Sheen’s outstretched hand, “flic big waka that was \o fetch muskets from *Poihakena.”

Te Rauparaha’s lips were curled in a cunning smile. Ho contented himself with silence and a keen penetrating gaze fixed on Coulished’s tell-tale face. Sheen did not hesitate. His answer oame pat, and as naturally as if it had been the truth. Neither by the expression of liis face nor by his manner did he betray the slightest concern or anxiety. Despite the critical situation in which we were placed I could not but admire his coolness and felt emboldened

by it. “Rangihaeata forgets,” he said in vluent Maori, “the korero (talk) we had last night. He doubted the honour of the pakeha. This is the pakeha’s answer. So wholly do we trust the friendship of Te Rauparaha that we have sent away the waka with white wings over the sea. We ourselves will stay and visit" Waipounamu and wait for the cargo we have promised. When the waka returns she will bring that in her belly that will feed the people of Te Rauparaha on the blood of their enemies,”

The expression of Te Rauparaha’s face did not change. .For one moment he raised his eyebrows and fixed his tigerish eyes on Sheen. That was the only sign he gave that he had even heard him. Immediately withdrawing them, he settled himself to watch Coulished’s more reliable face.

At this moment a shrill laugh came from the middle of the crowd, followed by a stir as a withered old hag pushed her way through till she stood between us and the two chiefs. She made a terrible figure, her form bent and tottering with age, her face furrowed by five score years or more, her eyes bloodshot and nearly sightless, partly hidden by drooping lids, her mouth shrunken and toothless save for one solitary tusk, which shook in the gum as with evil eye she mocked us, laughing bitterly.

“He aha te take i ara mai koutou i te ata tu ?”t she cried —half shriek, Half groan. She shouted this question twice, full in Sheen’s face. Quite self-possessed, he beamed all the time with easy good nature, a behaviour I did my best to copy, while Coulished hung back, cringing behind me like a frightened child. “We went out at dawn,” Sheen answered, “to see the last of our big canoe. She will be away from us for fully two months. Surely the wahine will under-

stand. Would she not desire to say farewell to her friends and to her dwelling if they were going over th© gieat waters on a many days’ journey? We trust ourselves to Te Rauparaha, til® friend of strangers. Now we only wish to find the ship of our fathers on Waipounamu.” Te Rauparaha making no reply the old. woman laughed again a bitter laugh, all the while wagging her head tauntingly.

“How did the pakeha communicate with the big canoe to give his orders ?” asked Rangihaeata with deep subtlety. Sheen moistened his lips, but it was his only sign of anxiety. Hesitation would have been fatal.

“Last night when the chiefs slept,” he said, “and the pah was silent we signalled with lights. The pakeha can make a light more easily than th® Maori. The rangatira in charge came ashore. In the korero we had then the orders were given, and obeyed as you have lizard this morning. The pakeha rangatira—like the Maori —says to his servant go, and he goes.” The old woman shook with a spasm of devilish glee. She lifted one skinny hand from the stick on which she leaned and pointed over my shoulder at Coulished.

“The big man lias the rae totara,”* she cackled. “Look at the pakeha behind. Fright is tatooed on bis features*. I saw them go out at dawn. I did noi see them go out in the night. Was there any heard the sound of their footsteps as they passed out of Taipiro?” Having said this she straightened herself, raising her head and lifting the heavy lids that shrouded her bleary eyes. Her face glowed with new light ■ —once again the blood coursed freely through her veins—channels in whic£* it would soon be still for ever. Nothing could quite unbend the crooked back or put life into the withered limbs, but the power of memory, and the love of race gave for a time a flicker of youth that was almost too prophetic, as sho pointed her bony finger at me. So terrible was the fire of her unveiled eyes that Sheen, for the moment, forgot his part and the smile left his face. “The wreck of his fathers on Waipounamu,” she screamed. “I remember —I, even tlie aged one; the mother of warriors; the wife of great chiefs. I remember the wreck of the Wiwi on Waipounamu! Far away it lies by tho lake of spirits, close to the murmuring waters of Piopiotahi. Have I not smelt the flesh of the Wiwif as it cooked in the ovens —it was a smell once sweet in the nostrils of the Maori. l Hi! Cook their heads, rangatira, for the footstep of the pakeha comes and the Maori passes away—away into tha great silence, even into the silent depths of Te Rienga.J Hi! Hi l Cook their heads! Cook their heads !”

Slie paused a moment, drawing her thin lips back from her one tooth with unctuous anticipation, the while she worked herself into a fit of diabolic frenzy. “Listen,” she cried. “Once, many years back there came * a bird with white wings to Wangaroa; there came a big canoe to the country of my ancestors; before I went to Pirongia; before I came to the Ngatitoa. Th© Wiwi were as brothers with my fathers. Aha! Aha ! Alia! Aha ! I remember.”

Her laugh rattled in her throat —her eyes remained fixed on me and her finger pointed in the same direction.

‘‘A Wiwi! A Wiwi !” she shrieked, “of the same people as Whareine, with whom my fathers were as brothers, but they cooked his head. They were wise men at Wangaroa. Will Te Rauparaha depart from their wisdom ? Ever since the pakeha came there has been war and bloodshed and discord. The Maori race eats itself from the first day of the coinipg of the Wiwi and Ingirilif§. Look, Rangatira! There are in our hands today, three—three devils, three schemers. three liars. Wah! the rae totara would make a full meal, the Wiwi would be tender —the coward there would do for a slave. As for the others eat their heads, eat their heads, eat their heads!” “Cook their heads, cook their heads!” they cried with one voice. She ended with her voice raised to a shrill cry that echoed of doom. Then,shaking her stick with- one final effort she retired whence she had come

to the centre of the crowd. Sheen took no notice of the raving woman, but stood with a smile of confidence on his face all the time, boldly facing the two ohiefs. They were the arbiters of our fate, let the crowd yell and threaten to their hearts’ content. Coulished, still trembling, drew closer to me than ever. So far as the two chiefs were concerned Rangihaeata looked visibly moved by the old woman’s harangue, but Te Rauparaha’s face was as impassive as a mask. It is not likely that he believed Sheen’s story although he was doubtless puzzled to discover what was the truth. It being dangerous to harm a white man Te Rauparaha’s policy was always conciliatory so long as such a course did not tend to damage his prestige with his followers. That prestige he never endangered willingly, a fact that may account for many contradictions in his career. Rangihaeata, on the other hand was always for aggression. Fierce and bloodthirsty, easily moved, excitable to a degree and brave to recklessness, he took little heed of consequences and was ever ready to kill a possible enemy. He struck first and asked questions afterwards. He hated white men. So, probably, did Te Rauparaha. The one man. however, denied their usefulness while the other was determined to use them to his own advantage. Our safety lay with Te Rauparaha, our danger with Rangihaeata. The crowd closed in round us.

The Captain raised his hand, standing there unmoved by the sea of wild faces, regardless of the fierce throng that every moment surged nearer and nearer, ready to spring upon us, knowing how little chance he had of making even his voice heard above the tumultuous sounds raised by that howling jnob.

“Peace, hear the pakeha,” cried Te Rauparaha, holding up his taiaha, commanding their attention. With instant obedience the crowd sank into silence. Sheen stepped forward a pace. He appeared calm and unruffled as if he was standing on the deck of his own ship addressing his crew. There was, however, more dignity than usual in his speech and manner. He picked his words, delivering them slowly so that none should miss their mark. He also used tricks of gesticulation not quite natural to him. “The behaviour of your people, Rangatira, is not friendly,” he said, “but for yourself you have not yet spoken. We came as visitors to you at your own invitation, trusting in the word of a famous warrior—in the faith of a rangatira. Do you listen to the ravings of women? We are not Wiwi, but Ingirihi; a race that is ever at war with the Wiwi. We have killed more Wiwi than there are Maoris in your country. Yet the old woman calls us Wiwi; she calls us liars. She is the liar! You knew me at Pirongia! Was I not always a friend to Te Rauparaha and his people? Did I not prove it again yesterday by the present that I gave him ? I put his enemies in the palm of his hand, and made him the greatest chief of his nation. If Te Rauparaha is true to the pakeha he will grow greater and greater. Not only the Ngatitoa will bend to him but the Waikato, the Ngatiapa—all the tribes! Say! Do I not speak the truth? Ido not fear. Cook our heads if you please. Has not a woman spoken ? You will he the sufferers. The big canoe will surely return laden with muskets. She will help the Ngatiapa and great will be the fall of the Ngatitoa. Te Rauparaha is known in the country of the pakeha as their friend. At the bidding of a woman be is now going to be a traitor to them. Listen Te Rauparaha! If this is so we are ready to die; but in the country of the pakeha men speak to men apart from the women and children. Let us go to the whare runanga* and talk with our equals—with the rangatiras of the Ngatitoa, not with the women. \ We wish to reach the wreck of our ancestors on the shores of Waipounamu, and we are ready to give much ‘utu’ for help. We will give so many weapons of war when the big waka returns and the Ngatitoa can then fatten on the brains of the Ngatiapa.” The calmness displayed by the Captain, combined with his artful oratory, saved our lives; the former certainly carrying more weight with Te Rauparaha. He' was able to appreciate mere talk at As true value since it was one of his owq, favourite weapons. He attached little importance to SheenVAvord. The brig might return or it might not, that the future would reveal. The intuition of the great chief told him that if she did not return he would he none the worse off. That was his strongest argument for keeping us alive. Provided that Sheen was telling the truth and the brig returned from Sydney, loaded with muskets, to find him slain and eaten, then there would be a heavy reckoning to be paid by the Ngatitoa. Rangihaeata had too little foresight to look far ahead, hut Te Rauparaha more than supplied his deficiency in this connection and laying his plans accordingly he turned to us with an evil and cunning smile.

/Port Jackson. tWhy did yon get up so early in the morning? ... *Said of a boastful man. tFrench. tThe place of departed spirits.

®The meeting-house. “Kaipai If The pakeha has spoken well,” he said. “Te Rauparaha and Rangihaeata will korero with you in tha whare runanga.” Then he turned to the still murmuring and restless crowd. “Enough!” he commanded. “Are ye the ohiefs of the Ngatitoa? Ugh! Your heads are too easily turned, shortsighted gropers in the dark. Go to your homes! Rangihaeata and I will deal with this. I have led you many days from Pirongia, and made you great, andyou have trusted me. Trust still! If it be well that the pakeha should be protected, I will protect them; if it oe well that they should die, you shall cook their heads. Away! Away I” To see the crowd disperse was an example of his power. In a moment their voices were hushed, and we could hear the old hag muttering bitterly, as she went away, at finding herself ignored and her warnings disregarded. Memories of the days when these cannibals had butchered Marion du Fresne had no weight beside the living personality of this Maori Napoleon, Te Rauparaha. Gladly leaving the spot beset with so many dangers for us, we followed the two chiefs to the runanga house, rehearsing in our own minds the part w-3 had to play in the next scene.

CHAPTER X. Te Rauparaha led the way into the whare runanga. a small meeting house, grotesquely carved and decorated after the Maori fashion. The floor was covered with flax mats, and it had the indescribable stuffiness common to all native dwellings. Sheen took up his position in the middle of the room, Coulished and I behind him. He stood m order not to loose all dignity by squatting, Maori fashion, on the ifioor. Te Rauparaha and Rangihaeata sat themselves down facing us. The smouldering eyes of Te Rauparaha sought in vain to pry beneath the confidence which Sheen wore to veil all expression of concern, ■while on Rongihaeata’s face there was a look of sullen disapproval. He knew the methods of his chief well enough to realise that for the present at any rate Sheen had won the day. Away from the crowd, with only the two chiefs to deal with, Sheen threw aside-some of his dignity, his face still wearing its reckless smile. “Well, rangatira,” he said with easy good nature, “your people are a hungry lot.”

“Ugh !” answered Te Rauparaha. ‘There’ll be trouble for .your race if they threaten white men.” continue I the Captain with puckered brow and in a tone of mock sympathy. “Trouble, and little trade in muskets. Y/ho’d come here, I should like to know, bringing you firearms, to be threatened by a howling mob like that.” “Hie power of the musket,” muttered Rangihaeata gloomily, “makes the pakelias brave men.”

“The powder of the musket gives tha Ngatitoa revenge on the Ngatiapa,' 1 quickly responded Sheen with pointed good humour. He held up his finger with weighty insinuation and continued : “When my big canoe comes back!” “If it comes back,” interrupted Rangihaeata doubtingly. “It will come back,” answered Sheen with emphasis.

“His face doesn’t look like it,” said Rangihaeata pointing the finger , of scorn at Coulished.

Sheen made a grimace of excuse and contempt.

“Urn,” he said, “that pakeha is simply a man of peace, a trader, having a fear of fighting. The hold and fearless looks of the Maori frighten him. Try to bargain with him and it will be different.” Rangihaeata laughed angrily, being a man who never bargained. “How long before the big waka returns?” asked Te Rauparaha. “Two or three months,” answered Sheen.

Neither of the Maoris made any response. Sheen watched them for some moments before he spoke again, h : 3 manner supremely confident and free.

“Well, Rangatira,” he went - on, “I have trusted you and trust you still, as I have shown by sending to Australia for muskets. While the big waka is away I would visit the wreck of my ancestors on Waipounamu. Can the Maori help me? Will he give me a canoe and men to cross the straits and pass down the coast to the wreck ?” “How much ‘utu’ ? asked Te Raupara-

ha. “Fifty muskets/’ said Sheen without hesitation. There was a moment’s whispered conversation between the "chiefs and then T'e Rauparaha turned to Sheen. “It’s not enough,” he replied. “What is enough?” asked Sheen. “Whether the pakeha lies or tells the truth I know not,” said Te Rauparaha, “but the liar is some time found out. This is the payment demanded by the Ngatitoa: fifty muskets.” He paused. “Well?” asked Sheen. “That is the least part,” said Te Rauparaha. “The Ngatitoa have an enemy at Akaroa: the blood of Te Pehi is crying for vengeance. I would kill and eat Tamaiharanui.” “What can the pakeha do?” .asked Sheen. “The old shark Tamaiharanui is cun-

ning,” answered the native with the hunger of a fiend in his restless eyes. “If I go in canoes, he sees and hides nis head like a weka behind the pallisades of his pah. If Igo by land, the step of my warriors is heard afar off. He will not be trapped. Rut were I to go hidden in the belly of a big v aka like that of the pakeha, he would be caught. Will the pakeha take me and my warriors down to Akaroa, hidden in the belly of their big waka, so that the blood of Te Pehi may call aloud no longer!”

Slieen hesitated. “What does he mean ?” I asked him in English. “He wants us to take a hand in one of his wars,” answered Sheen in the same tongue.

“To help him to entrap the chief ot another tribe?” I asked.

The Captain nodded assent. “Why does the pakeha hesitate?” enquired Rangihaeata, his suspicions gaining ground. “You can’t do it, Sheen,” I cried. “Curse you, shut up!” growled he. “I’d wade through the blood of all these black devils and think nothing of it.” “The widows of Te Pehi cry for blood,” loudly interposed Te Rauparaha, breaking in abruptly upon our conversation ; “the blood of the pakeha will serve. It is for him to choose between his life and the life of Tamaiharanui.

“What you have asked I will do,” said Sheen.

“If we help you to the wreck of your ancestors,” stated Te Rauparaha, “when you come back you will take me and my warriors to Akaroa in the belly of the big waka. You will help me catch Tamaiharanui.”

“I have said so,” answered Sheen. Rangihaeata rose and left the whare and was away some minutes. During that time no further conversation took place. Te Rauparaha. sat still, eyeing us furtively; Sheen did not attempt to speak. At last Rangihaeata returned accompanied by a big Maori, named Whiwhi, older by some years than either Te Rauparaha or himself but still strong and active. The Maori retains his strength and vigour to the last and breaks down suddenly. Whiwhi had been through endhgh war and bloodshed to have satiated a wild beast. It was he who had egged on the crowd that had yelled so. fiercely for our blood. Conservative in his instincts, like Rangihaeata, hs had little patience with Te Rauparaha’s toleration of the pakeha.”

“Does Whiwhi know Waipounamu?” asked Te Rauparaha as soon as they were seated.

Whiwhi smiled grimly, taking no notice of Sheen, indeed assuming towards us an attitude of the greatest contempt. “Waipounamu was my teacher in war, Te Rauparaha,” he answered; “it was there that I first saw blood and heard the cry of the battle —the great cry that is ever sounding through the lives of men—the cry of the enemy as he goes to his last sleep. There it was, long ago, I saw the nioa; and heard the voices of my ancestors at the lake of spirits in the mountains. TV Rauparaha knows that Waipounamu is as Pirongia to me, familiar as the place where he was born, and the thousand pahs he has conquered.” “Would you go there again?” asked Rangihaeata. “Is it the wish of the pakeha to go t*> Waipounamu ” inquired Whiwhi, noticing Sheen for the first time. Sheen looked Whiwhi up and down with the glance of a man who half suspected treachery but had no meansof escaping it. “Did you ever see the wrecked waka on Waipounamu?” he asked. “I have seen it,” said Whiwhi; “it lies not far from Waipounamu where the big moa, the last of his race, lies dying; the place of the tuatara and the spirits of men. I will never go> to that lake again; I would not go for all the muskets the pakeha could give or for any utu that could be paid. There is, however, one other way by which I will take the pakeha if he likes and if Te Rauparaha wishes it. Still it would he better to cook their heads.”

Sheen shrugged his shoulders smiling. “Tut.” he said, “we have settled that matter and you would gain little by

cooking our heads. Pouf! One meal! Wait! Take us to the wreck and we will give you utu in muskets that will provide many meals. Te Rauparaha will hold the Ngatiapa in the hollow of his hand.

“When will the pakeha deliver the muskets?” questioned Whiwhi, scanning the Captain with doubtful glance. He had struck on the weak point, the point suspected by Te Rauparaha, known too weil by us three white men, our utter powerlessness to provide the muskets or to put Tamaiharanui into their grasp. I forsaw that the tragedy Sheen had averted, would overtake us again as soon as the Maoris realised his treachery and untruthfulness. He faced Whiwhi’s question boldly. “In two or three months the big waka will return.” he said; “and then the Ngatitoa can have their revenge on the Ngatiapa and on the murderers of Te Pehi.”

The three Maoris conversed together i i an undertone for some time. Then Te Rauparaha, addressing himself to Sheen, said: —

“We will do what is wanted. I will send a war canoe to V/aitaki. From there Whiwhi and four men will guide the pakeha to Waipounamu and lie Ip them in any way they can. I would warn the pakehas if the utu of muskets they have promised and th 9 other utu, is not forthcoming then I will cook their heads.” As he concluded the Maoris rose to their feet.

That was our dismissal. Sheen led the way from the whare runanga to the other whare where we had spent the night. As we went along I caught sight of the old woman who had thirsted for our blood, peering at- us from the doorway of her hut. Her forbidding face wore a look of concentrated hate; those keen eyes of hers had bridged tha years and discovered the French blood of early ancestors in my veins. I involuntarily shrunk from her gaze. Who could tell how far she could see into the future, or what prophetic instinct she might possess? It seemed to me there was a look of triumph that boded us no good. As soon as we were free from observation, inside the whare,. I turned sharply on Captain iSheen. “How the devil could you?” I exclaimed.

“Could I what?” he asked innocently, with a great assumption of obtuseness. His expedients were astonishing. Coulished on reaching the whare had thrown himself on the fern in the corner where he had slept the previous night. Despite my wrath at his cowardice, his broken-down appearance, as he lay hiding his face with his hands, aroused my pity. The Captain and I stood staring at each other.

“Were it not for the fact that yoi have no power to carry out the bargain you made,” I said, “your proposed line of conduct would be nothing less than fiendish villainy. As it is you are only heaping up the severest punishment for vis when Te Rauparaha finds you out, which he must do in a month or two at most. Moreover, he plainly suspects you now.” A fierce glint flashed into the ' Captain’s eyes. His gaze hardened. Meeting it, I was whisked back to the little inn parlour where he made me drink the rum he said was blood. I had the same sense of his overmastering powers “Caspar,” he began, speaking in a tone of authority, “bear in mind I’m Captain here as well as aboard ship. I command the expedition. I saved your life. One touch of hesitation and we' at this moment should be in the shambles, butchered. We may he yet. That depends on Chance and she’s a fickle mistress. In the meantime we are alive, and so far, safe. We shall yet see the long sought wreck on the other coast and perhaps run our fingers through the gold doubloons, or I’m not Dan Sheen. Besides, we have yet one chance of escape. Many an adventureous craft tries its luck in these waters, one of which I may induce to carry out niy bargain with Te Rauparaha. I’m not such a fool as to act without a plan, and one that has chances of success, you’ll see.”

“You surely don’t mean to carry it out,” I gasped, startled at his evident intention. *

He looked at me half astonished; then smiled and said: • “If I get the ghost of a chance I

will.”

“And he a murderous thief,” I blurted. Having spoken, I wondered at my own audaeity.

“Caspar,” he cried, and his voice had a ring like struck metal, “Caspar!” His glittering eyes seemed to look me through and through and I slowly sank under his control as I had done in the inn at home. That scene, with the rum upon the table and the map beside it which had faded to only a memory, became vivid again, conjured up by the exercise of his magic art.

“Caspar, though you have had a free hand, you are mine none the less,, mine, remember, body and soul,” he said. “Yours,” I gasped with the docile obedience of a dog. “Listen, then!” he continued sternly. “If the time comes for me to carry out my bargain, you’ll not interfere. You’ll take your share, your full share, too, and when all is done you’ll never blab. Dan Sheen never strikes his colours and never goes back on his word. A nigger’s life- A thousand niggers' lives are not worth so much to me as one little bit of my own skin. Think the same!” lie commanded.

“The same,” I repeated. He chuckled softly to himself. “That’s all ship-shape,” he answered

“We will end our little korero so Peaceable obedience is a saving grace.

He .took his eyes off mine and I was at once myself but without the power to remonstrate or argue The point fur-

ther in regard to his bargain with Te Rauparaha. Any attempt that I could make would but end the same, and 1 knew it. Freedom was one day to be

mine hut not yet. At the time I felt myself the meanest thing alive and the most despicable. Turning away, crestfallen and utterly miserable, my eyes fell upon Coulished, who was blinking at us out of his dark corner.

The Captain sat down and outlined his interview with the chiefs in his choicest English. Ooubslied heard hihi through without a word of remon-

strance. ITo held the same humane opinions in regard to coloured races as -''the Captain, and was equally ready L o barter men for a price; or anything else that suited his own purpose. And he placed the same high value on his own skin. His was beyond doubt the lower nature, having none of Sheen’s bravery which in face of our difficulties was invaluable besides being in itself an admirable thing. We spent the remainder of the day in getting ready for our journey. That night I could not sleep, the preceding events recurring again and again to my mind.

CHAPTER XI. Two days later we started in a large canoe across the strait. It was manned by a Maori crew under the command of Whiv/lii and seemed a frail craft in which to tempt ihu dangers of the open sea. Coulished especially was timourous, his eye following every wave as it approached us or dashed against the side, drenching us with spray. For five long days we struggled against wind and tide, landing at last, weary and dejected, at Waitaki, a native settlement friendly to the Ngatitoa. There we rested for several days. Then, leaving all our crew behind, with the exception of Whiwhi and three other natives, we set off inland through a flat and tussock covered country. "What a contrast it was to all I had been used to! Many a time, as we tramped wearily on over that uninhabited waste towards the great range of mountains that daily drew nearer my mind went back to the dear old mother and the home I had left behind. I saw in imagination the sleepy village with its even quiet life; the mill; the winding brook;, and the thousand familiar objects of my boyhood. Then, thrusting the memory from me, and gulping down the lump in my throat, I set myself to persevere once more with silent determination.

it was late one afternoon when we at last reached Ka Papahori, where we pitched our camp under the shadow of the mountain. The nights hitherto had been bitterly cold and lying in the open, 'with only the scant covering we had been able to carry, we suffered greatly. Nowhere, however, had there been lack of wood and the fire, kept blazing all the night, was our only comfort, without which some of us had surely perished. At Ka Papahori the air was keen and nipping, though less trying than on the plains below. Sheen, eager - and impatient of delay, stalked up and down; then, calling on Whiwhi and me, pointed excitedly to the snowy summit of the range. "We go .over there?” he asked. The Maori waved his arm to the right, where a large peak rose above the rest. “Through there,” he answered, “up the valley, on to the shores of the Great Lake. There the hills are lower. We shall cross them below the snowline and go down on to Waipouamu.” I called to mind the K-unanga house and the dread with which he then mentioned the lake and my curiosity reawoke. ...

tGood ?

“Is the name of the Great Lake, Waipounamu?” I asked. A stealthy look crept into his eyes', and after hesitating a moment he replied solemnly:— “No! Waipounamu lies beyond. There is a taniwha* in The Great Lake and the spirits of the dead whisper around its shores. At Waipounamu they talk aloud. •It will be close to us but we must not see it. Few have seen it. We shall hear the murmur of Piopiotahi on the range and that will be enough. With this let the palceha bo satisfied for the Lake of Spirits is also a place of death!” Shuddering he turned away, leaving the Captain and me to ponder over the prospect before us, a, prospect filled •with so much mystery. Sheen did not show the slightest concern at Whiwhi’s fearful forbodings.

“We strike over yon hills there,” ho said. “It is like having to weather a gale with the port in sight. Tiie rough weather might go to the devil for me but there’s no getting an anchorage except through it. Ah well, we’re nearing the Land o’ Promise.” Coulished had come close up to us and had heard the last sentence. His cadaverous face lit up with a mawkish ‘“‘Smile.

“The Land o’ Promise, Dan! -It’s a bad comparison,” he sneered. “If you and I are Moses and Aaron the story’T end badly and young Joshua here’ll collar the swag.” He pointed to me. A scowl spread over Sheen’s face.

“Rot!” he growled. “Things that happened in Scripture never will happen again; no two voyages ever were the same this side the Lake o’ Brimstone.”

As Sheen’s authority on these questions was conclusive Coulished made no further reply. Turning on his heel, he joined the Maoris who were gathering round Lhe fire.

“Martin’s scripture,” said 'Sheen scornfully, “minds me of a very old saying.” “I don’t think .you need repeat it,’’ I returned.

“P’raps not,” he said, “p’raps not! It’s there all the same at my tongue’s end.”

As he spoke he glanced at Coulished who was now sitting among the Maoris, close to the blazing fire. “Come,” he said laughing, “let’s join ’em. Wherever there’s a warm spot there you’ll find Coulished. It’s kind o’ natural like.”

The wit might be poor but it was in the Captain’s best manner and I made no response.

Breaking camp at daybreak next morning, we left Ka Papahori, the country becoming more and more broken as we journeyed. Passing up a long valley, shut in on both sides by steep hills, we came out on the shores of Whiwhi’s Great Lake. The Maoris had grown silent and gloomy, stepping quickly and giving curt answers to all our questions. The rough and narrow track would sometimes wind round the side of a jutting hill; at others descend again to tlie water’s edge. The scenery was grand and beautiful. Beholding it even the sordid soul of Coulished was moved. Tlie lake which was long and narrow lay quiet in the hollow of the mighty hills. Peak on peak they rose around it, snow-covered half-way down. Below that, in violent contrast as if for effect, black and. jagged rocks jutted out or threateningly overhung the silent depths, sleeping beneath. In keeping with this rugged majesty the sharp bold outlines of the guardian hills were ungraced by vegetation of any kind, except stray clumps of stunted scrub or here and there a belt of scraggy birch. Their sides were grooved into deep valleys and unscalable precipices by the rough usage of winter torrents and sliding ice. They circled the lake, gaunt and awe-inspiring, but with no single touch of softness in their stern magnifiCBnse. No wind ruffling its surface, the sapphire water lay outspread like a mirror, reflecting everything above it. At times Whiwhi said, in answer to our questions, the lake was visited by heavy storms which tore thundering down the gorges, uprooting the scattered scrub, loosing the rocks from the mountain side, and lashing the now peaceful waters into boiling foam. Of the dreaded taniwha, we saw nothing, but the Maoris carefully avoided camping on the shore, and before dark set in. we had threaded our way along a valley and lay for the night upon the tussock, under the shelter of a clump of birch. This valley, the Maoris told us, was called “The Home of the Weld” alter a shy, wingless bird that frequented the locality in great numbers. That nignt was still except for their occasional plaintive call, and before it was over I understood the depressing effect the gloomy scenery exercised upon the irinds of our ignorant companions. I was right glad in the morning to leave the valley and begin the long, toilsome climb towards the saddle-back, visible far ahead of us. After a day of clambering, wo reached it at nightfall and camped there. Half frozen, and shivering tlie whole night; through, we slept but little, constantly making up the fire which we kept alight with difficulty. The sky was cloudless, sparkling with stars, the air frosty and keen. As I lay listening, every now and then a distant rumbling reached my wakeful ears., at times growing in volume

then nearly dying away as the breeze alternately rose and fell. Wondering what it could be, I thought and thought, trying in vain to account for the fitful noise, until suddenly remembering the numerous waterfalls around us, I turned to Whiv/lii who was crouching over the fire. “The noise?” I asked, “'what is it? A waterfall ?” “Piopiotahi,” he whispered, a tremor in his voice. “Shall we see it?” I inquired. The firelight dickered on his face and I saw at- a glance how unpleasant the subject was to him. “No.” he said, “we shall only see the rapids lower down : the torrent will be far from us.” He spoke brusquely as if desiring to end the conversation. “It isn’t- far away is it?” I persisted. “Over the mountains,” he grunted, after a moment’s pause. I allowed him tc drop the subject, as he evidently desired to do, and he immediately sank into a moody silence, huddling as close to the fire as he could get. As I listened to the fitful roar, I pondered over his last answer. It seemed almost incredible. What a tremendous fall it must be to be heard over a great range of mountains, humming through their gorges and echoing over their fields of ice. Weighing the matter thus, I fell asleep and, in spite of the cold, did not wake until the day dawned and my companions were moving. Touched by the rising sun, the view from the saddle was beyond description. Some thousands of feet below us, a river traversed a deep, wooded valley, from our elevation appearing but a tliin streak.of light amidst the shadows. On every side snow-capped peaks arose, glacier after glacier, flashing in the brilliant sunlight. The scene, so diffei’ent from the homely beauty of an English countryside, took my breath away and oppressed me with its grandeur.

Sheen, preoccupied and blind to the surpassing beauty of the scene, displayed before us, was as energetic as ever, fussing about, giving orders and making inquiries, every now and again pulling out the map and studying it with close attention. Coulished turned on his heel and looked down the valley from which we had ascended the mountain-side. For myself, I stood gazing a long time, lost in wonder and admiration. Then Sheen, rolling up the map once moie and hastily swallowing a few mouthfuis of the breakfast we had set aside for him. gave the order to start. Having got together our few belongings, we began the long scramble down the moun-tain-side into the valley. All that day we tramped through wild and broken country. Tlie next morning, about two hours after our start, on reaching the top of a small mountain, we suj-

denly came in view of the dear familial sea.

“Wahipounamu!” cried the Maoris ia concert. At last then our goal was in sight.

We were standing in a natural gate between two rocks, and for many miles a rugged coast stretched before our eyes. The mountain chain descended to the sea in jagged and precipitous spurs, the waves breaking in white foam on the narrow beach at their feet, while on many a steep bush-clad face could be seen the silvery flash of a waterfall, shimmering in the sunlight. Th@ track led down a steep cliff and was only wide enough for one man at ® time. “Do Maoris live here?” I askedWhi«* whi who was next to me. Raising his hand he pointed North. “Higher up,” he said, “there are on© or two pahs; none here! This_ is the haunt of the kiwi*; the bird that liannts at night and is not seen by day; the bird of only one lover; the faithful one I This is too close to the lake of Spirits to be a good dwelling for men.” He looked over his shoulder as if fearing some unseen presence. “Where is the lvreck?” asked Sheen, the map again in his hand and bent on the purpose of our journey. Whiwhi this time pointed south. “Below,” he said, “across the waters of P'iopiotahi, and the big river, we passed over in the valley yesterday. Does the pakeha see a mountain yonder that looks as if it stood in the.sea?” The point he indicated appeared an island, just detached from the mainland. “Yes,” answered Sheen. “Under its shadow,” said the Maori, “is the ship with the tree in its belly. I have seen it afar off. I have never been right up to it though the way ia open.” The Captain showed his ill-controlled eagerness. “Come on,” he cried; “we waste time? lot us get down to the beach.” Spurred on by excitement, the Maoris leading, we began the somewhat perilous descent. Coulished hampered our progress in the narrow places, clinging in terror to tufts alongside the track, and only letting go when one of us stayed to help him. On reaching the bottom at last, however, he brightened up and grew light-hearted, keeping to the pace and he even tried to crack <* feeble joke with Sheen. / Through the remaining hours of the day we seldom rested and by nightfall were almost of the tall tree which Whiwlii pointed out as our landmark. We had pushed along the rocky coast for miles and had crossed two rivers, the second of which the Maoris hailed as Piopiotahi. robbed of all its terrors now that it had broken from its mysterious mountain prison. Here it ran swift and dark in a wide bed between broken boulders, rolled

'down in its wrath even to its mouth by the power of its mighty floods. Its waters, direct from the ice-fields, were freezing cold, and chilled us through and through as we crossed over. We came across some fine pieces of greenstone further along the. coast, which were eagerly pounced upon hy the Maoris who prize it highly. Being unable to reach the wreck that night in spite of all our efforts, we camped in the shelter of an overhanging rock and made a big fire of driftwood, plenty of which was to be found along this wild seaboard, making a welcome change from the dearth of dry fuel in the mountains. As we sat round the bright blaze, with the surf breaking on the beach just below us, Sheen chatted with the Maoris, who had become more communicative since we had left the region of which they had such awe and dread. “When did the big waka come ashore P” asked Sheen, seeking for any information he could get about the wreck. “The waka we are going to/ he added.

As Whiwhi raised himself to speak the light from the fire played on his wrinkled face. Alone of the party in his savage health and strength, the hardships we had undergone had left no mark upon him. “Far back in the generations, pakelia, my people say. The tree has grown out of its belly since then and now the tree is old. When a boy, my grandfather saw a woman of this island with a yellow whakapaipaij which was picked up here. That was a long while ago and almost forgotten.” The Maori sat silent. ‘‘About a hundred and twenty years,” Hheen calculated aloud. “My ancestors say,” continued Whiwhi, further pressed, “the big waka came ashore in the days of Toa-ranga-tira, the founder of my tribe, and that he himself came down from Kawhia to help eat the crew.”

This then was the sum and sunstance of what the Maoris knew about the wreck, as we found out after cross-ques-tioning them. Like most of their history, improved unreliable and legendary. Throughout that night we three lay tossing in feverish expectation and had there been but a ghost of a moon to guide us, we should have toiled on rather than bear the suspense of waiting. But the longest night has an end. Day broke cold and grey; the damp chilly wind pierced our very marrow; and even the rising sun, hidden behind masses of. feaden looking clouds, brought us no warmth. We were soon away; Sheen glim and stern, Coulished with gleaming eyes, I sick with excitement. On wo pressed over the sandy beach, mounting the obstructing rocks, Until at las" the outline of the wreck, surmounted by the tree, could be plainly distinguished. Here then lay the culmination of our hopes, .the longed-for object of eur search! Overcome by our feelings, we ran exulting, shouting with childish glee, the Captain, well to the front, making great tracks in the sand as he pounded towards that long expected goal. Thus after many days tossing on the deep; after quarrels and bickerings; after hearing the voices in the fog; after the treachery of "desertion and escaping butchery by cannibals; after a toilsome journey over a barren lonely land; thus, we came at last and looked upon the pirate'wreck. There she lay, fully fifty feet above high water mark, on a ledge that at full tide overhung the sea, and through her hull was actually growing a tall black birch tree. It towered high above her, partly sheltering her from the sun which' for more than a century had poured its bleaching rays upon her, and it strained the warped timbers, its growth had displaced, when swayed by the prevailing wind. Wh it was her errand ? Where was she built ? And from whence had she drifted to her doom ? If the rotting, moss-covered planks could have spoken—what a tale! What scenes of bloodshed, murder and foul debauchery— outcome of inhuman greed, they could unfold. As we stood looking at her, I almost expected +o bear the echo of Couli shed’s doggerel, discordently chanted by a chorus of brutish, rollicking voices:— A gen’elman o’ fortune I would be, With drink and blood galore-e-oh; A sailing on the bosom o’ the ’eaving sea, And sending all the merchantmen to glory-oh.

CHAPTER XII. We clambered up the ledge and stood right under the exposed side of the stranded ship, seeking where to board her. With some difficulty we reached what had been the deck, now covered to a considerable depth with silt and weeds, and our footsteps sounded hollow as we made towards the tree. We must have been the first white men who had stepped upon her since, that day, long years before, wlien in front of the howling tempest, riding the crest of a gigantic wave, she had been left high and dry on the shelving cliff that was, at once, her shelter and her doom. Sheen just glanced at the tree which by a freak of nature seemed „a kind of branched mast, and then went on with his inspection of the ship. He found the companion, blocked with roots, sand and debris and hacking at the surrounding wood with a hatchet, called Coulished. .

“You were in the ship-building trade, Martin,” he said, and it was the first time I had ever seen him pay Coulished any defference. “You were reckoned to know your business. Perhaps you can tell me what build she is, her nation and her age.” “She’s British!” answered Coulished promptly; but it was all the information he was ready with for the moment. Coulished then overhauled what was visible with a keen and critical eye, taking a chip here and a chip there and scraped away the sand to see what masts she’d carried. At last he looked at Sheen and blinked decisively. (f Well?” asked the Captain. “She’s British/' repeated Coulished. “Her age?” questioned the Captain. “Somewhere about two hundrjd years,” Coulished said, without hesitation.

“What was her trade?” inquired Sheen.

Coulished shrugged his shoulders, uttering a little hysterical laugh. “Plunder 1” he chirruped. “Heighho! a noble calling! A rakish craft, Dan, and as well built a one as ever sailed an honest cruise. If it wasn’t for certain signs that only an old hand in the trade would notice, I would put her down a hundred years later. She’d have been a spanker among the ships of those days, she would, and fit for Blackboard, king of pirates, at his best.”

“Couldn’t be fit for a better man, - grinned the Captain, patronisingly. “We’re in lucks way,” said he. “If we haven’t found the long lost Espagnol, I’m the son of a sea-cook.”

He spoke with a bubbling gaiety in his manner.

“The long lost what ?” I questioned. “If Martin’s a dab at shipbuilding, I’m a whale at spouting sailor history.” Sheen laughed aloud at his own wit and continued:—“A certain gentleman o’ fortune, like myself, was in command of a fleet o’ five ships more than a hundred and fifty year ago. A favourite of kind Heaven, he had deuced good luck and most of them were choke full of treasure. In ont> of them, named the Espagnol, a famous fast ship for those days, was an extra big pocket of precious stones and loot. They were on the way to dump the stuff somewhere in the West Indies where they were in the habit of careening. In the murk of one black night the Espagnol sailed away from her companions. It was just the trick Morgan has played us and I only hope he will meet the same fate: by God, I do!” “And you think this is the same ship?” I asked, with some incredulity. “Why not?” he said absently, chipping at the rotting timbers with his hatchet. “She was the smartest thing afloat, a Britisher to boot and has never since .been heard of all these many years. What’s more likely than that she’d slouch here from New Holland in the hands of men who wished to keep themselves and what they’d got out of sight.” “And if it is?” I cried, hy this time half convinced, of its truth.

“If it is,” he repeated excitedly, “and believe me it’s been my pilot right through. We’ll hoist the booty, my bully hoys. Come then! Let’s make a breaffi and spy out her innards.” He scrambled over the side, hatchet in hand, on to the ground where, after some technical discussion with Coulished, he decided to break through at a spot that was uncovered, close to the keel on the starboard side. All haijds set to work with feverish energy. At the start we thought we had an easy task. The planks looked so rotten that they might tumble to pieces at the first blow and all the nails and holts seemed to have rusted away or to have become so thin that they had ceased to hold. There were, however, as we soon found when we got to work, other things to contend against. The planks on the inside were almost sound; the roots and trunk of the tree had jambed them in places, and where they had to be hacked through or wrenched away our light tools broke, unequal to* the task. At anyrate it took the party many hours and we began to despair of ever getting through that oaken hide, and to wonder whether after all there was anything inside that was worth the labour. At last, however, there was a sudden crack and what remained of Sheen’s hatchet went into space. Oh. but we all worked with a will then, straining our eager eyes to get a glimpse of the gold, if gold there were; and as soon as there was opening enough for a man to squeeze through there was a regular scuffle to be first.

Entering the hold nearly amidships, we clung to each other for support. What with the slippery footing, occasioned by the tilt of the hull, and the mildewed coating of the interior, it was dangerous to move a step in the dark. Besides we were nearly knocked down by the foul stench that met us as we ventured forward. Never till my dying day shall I forget the sickening sensation that ftome over me in the mouldy charnel-house gloom ere I sank at Sheen’s feet, to find myself, on re gaining consciousness, lying in the open air alongside the wreck. After waiting some time to refresh ourselves and to allow the imprisoned and poisonous air to escape, we made our second attempt. This time we halted at the opening while Sheen struck his flint and lighted the tallow dip be carried. Then finding an iron

pike-head and an old, weeviled, caulk-ing-mallet among the heaps of rubbi >n lying within, with great difficulty we enlarged the aperture sufficiently to make it safe to proceed. As we advanced, cautiously picking our way by the aid of Sheen’s flickering light, the scene of disorder and decay that met our eyes it would be impossible to describe. Rotten hales of costly merchandise, falling to dust, casks once holding salt provender devoured by worms, spirit kegs coated with thick slimy fungus and water barrels long since drained by Time's all-swallowing throat ; these in heaps, mixed with iron-bound trunks, the wood of which crumbled at our touch, betrayed our feet and harked our shins as we clambered towards the flooring of the orlop deck. From the massive beams overhead cobwebs hung thickly in festoons, or trailed downwards, black and heavy with the accumulated dust of years, and of worm-eaten timber. This blinded and nearly choked us, forced as we were by the stifling atmosphere of the place to open our mouths to get sufficient breath. Bearing to the left, we began ferreting among a big pile blocking the way and which seemed to have once been barrels of flour and biscuit but was now a solid looking mass of yellowish blue mould and touchwood. Suddenly a sound from Coulished arrested our attention- _. ' , ■, He was prodding the old pike-head in and out amongst the cobwebs near the beams, right at the top of the heap. “There!” he cried, his thin voice whistling in the close air, “that’s wood!’ He drove the pike in and left it sticKing there to prove his words. “It’s a partition,” he wheezed. “Hatchet here, Whiwhi! yelled Sheen. “It’s lying just outside there! The Maori had it in a twinkling, only too glad of an excuse to disobey the Captain’s earlier orders and enter the forbidden wreck. “Now, Caspar! dig the thin end or your iron bar into this split I’ve made.” Then, using the pike-head for a wedge, with three or four swinging blows of the mallet, Whiwhi had fetched in his endeavour to show himself needed and for which he had been rewarded by instant banishment, Sheen and I splintered one of the upright planks, still pretty sound and tough. It cost much sweat and no end of curses to rive that double wall of solid heart of oak, which had defied decay, though the tooth of Time had found the softer parts of the grain on the surface. But at last we clove our way into that Holy of Holies as Sheen facetiously christened it. So indeed it appeared to both my companions who, like devotees before some sacred shrine, piously fell upon their knees and worshipped. Crazy with delight, in his delirium, Coulished wept for very joy and rapturously feasting his covetous eyes so far forgot himself as to pffer thanks to Almighty God that he had been spared to see that sight. As for Sheen he was drunk with success, and losing all self-control, swore and* laughed hy turns as he fished out jewel after jewel, earring, circlet, brooch, or pendant, no end of them, set with stones of price; necklaces, some with triple rows of matchless

pearls—once the proud possession of a queen and saved to be the envy of th® world. i Such'the priceless things he dangled before our eyes in that foul, dismal hole, dimly lighted by a spluttering tallow flare; while all the time he kept up a running commentary of silly childish drivel. What they had already seen had turned their heads hut there was more than jewelled ornaments, if of lesser worth.

Besides precious gems in handfuls, cut and uncut, these rotten chests and rusted iron trays disclosed the spoil of many a plundered and oftimes sunken ship. Gold in bar and coin of various die lay scattered about like so many pebbles.

I could scarcely believe my own eyes so far did it exceed my wildest expectations; little wonder then that the miserly Ooulished became frenzied and had to be severely handled. Even Sheen, whose heart was flint to every gentler appeal, split on that rock where so many better men have struck and. his desire attained, the moment of victory proved also the time of weakness. So apt is the acquirement of wealth to compass our undoing. For myself my heart beat with elation as I thought of the fortune that was mine. Then came the revulsion. First of all I saw in imagination the seizing of this treasure; I saw the crew of swarthy ruffians, who had manned this very ship, scouring the sea in search of prey. A sail appears on the horizon and then —the swift stern chase! At last the capture! Dear God, the capture ! and then ? The thought brought tears to my eyes and a lump into my throat. Faint and sick I crept out into the open air. Night was sinking down upon the sea, dark and dismal. A bank of clouds out of the West, bringing a cold and drizzling rain, was coming upon us with the rising wind. There was little sea running but every now and again came a sullen heave to shorewards, omen_ of an approaching storm. The cliffs behind the wreck loomed high above us, threatening our lodgment; the birch creaked mournfully as it rocked to and fro with every gust. “Captain Sheen!” I called. He came outside to where I stood. Behind him the opening in the wreck glowed faintly, lighted with the tallow, flares. “What do you want, Caspar?” he asked. “We shall have a rough night,” I said, pointing towards the west. His wild eyes, gleaming with his recent triumph, scanned the horizon, and his face fell somewhat. Then, turning sharply to Whiwhi, who stood near us, looking out to sea, he asked still under the stress of keen excitement:— “What does the Maori think of a sky like that?” “To-night there will be rain and wind ” Whiwhi answered slowly, “and to-morrow it will grow worse There is much storm m the sky. We should be far from here.” The monotonous night cry of the wekas from the cliff broke in drearily on the silence that followed. “listen,” said the native, “the weka BP “lt’s ! & devilish bad prospect,” ad*

mitted the captain and we’re not' too .well provisioned either. We can ci adle in the old hulk her&,*high and dry, oi course, but as for food why a day or two will put us on short m everything but water, which promises ,to be plentiful enough. To-morrow we must shift and if Whiwhi’s a safe prophet there’ll be little to laugh at m the moving.” N Ooulislied now appeared at the opening ; the poor fool had strung a diamond necklace about his neck and cut a ridiculous figure, as lie stood blinking his sunken eyes at the" weather. The incongruity of the glittering ornament, in contrast with his wizzened, skinny throat, struck us all of a neap, and u e laughed aloud. It was like adorning a scarecrow. ‘ . ■' • ! A r Hell of a sky,” he ejaculated and disappeared' within to gloat over the treasure. , Thus all were agreed. The darkness came suddenly and almost unheralded, and we huddled, the whole eight of us, into the wreck, making room as best we could. We blocked the entrance 'leaving only a hole big enough 1 to let 11.' fresh air. Luckily we had enough lights and that night, bad as it was. prove! far'better than the'two which followed. The wind and increased to a gale, shrieking up . from the South bv nine o’clock, bringing with it a torre li of pelting, rain. Lashed by the fury of the blast, the sea boomed at the base of the cliffs. Shaken by the tree above -and drenched with the spray from the raging water below, the old wreck groaned and trembled through the long night. The tempest swelled louder and louder with each successive hour. Once I ventured to crawl to the opening and look out upon the storm. In the pitch darkness it was not possible to see anything. The wind, blowing with terrific force, and the roar of the sea, were deafening. High above the shrieking storm rose the plaintive cry of a distressed and driven seabird, like that of 1 a soul in anguish. Surely never since the flood had there been such a cold, pitiless, unceasing deluge. I was glad to get back into the comparative peace and quietness of our shelter. Coulished and I alone were wakeful, the rest fitfully sleeping. With me it was .mostly excitement, but with him it was abject fear, a delirium engendered by our good fortune which had proved too much for him. following close upon the unusual hardships he had lately undergone. Unequal to the strain, his slight frame had broken "flown and there were signs ol derangement. The morning brought no change in the weather, nor indeed did we expect that it would. So, without further hesitation, we proceeded to put into execution the plans we had decided upon over , night. The jewels “were to be divided * between us three white men and to be concealed as far as possible from the Maoris,- who had no idea of the value attaching to tho wreck. None of the treasure was to be handled -by them, thus rendering it impossible for them to show on our return/any result of our quest. As before they merely carried our few belongings. - Tfc was very hard to leave unlifted the heap qf gold we had come so far to find and which was ours for the Ooulislied grieved even to shedding tears that he could not carry the small portion he had secretly stowed about his clothing-. Sheen said it would be handy to sink him with when he pitched him, into the sea, as he swore he would unless he emptied his pockets. • Indeed it galled me to think what we left behind but it would have been sheer ,folly in those circumstances to attempt a long journey, in a howling storm, weighted,* when every ounce of strength would be wanted to get back safe and sound. Vve started away in a steadily driving rain, the sea breaking in a thunderous surf on- the .rocky coast. Leaving the wreck, quivering with the swaying tree, the salt spray drenched us as we clambered down. From the bottom I looked back at the ledge and its storm torn birch. It was undermined oh the seaward side and each successive mountainous wave was eating it more away. “>Sbme day, in one of these fearful storms, she’ll topple over into the sea,” I exclaimed. Sheen started at the words. “By thunder, if only we had the

brig,” he growled, aggravated at the thought and our utter helplessness. He was thinking of the possibility of a return in the near future. “Why?” I inquired. “Then we would have hoisted the whole swag and he damned to her/’ he said. “It nigh breaks my heart to think of what wo’re leaving yonder. My * respects to ’em the traitorous hounds! I only hope they're out fn the teeth of this, a mutiny aboard, and Bogan hanging at the yard-arm!” ou would have Had to divide it with • the whole crew,” I suggested. “What if I had?” . “The thing you’ve always bee-i . against.” '■ " .. “Because I thought there mightn’t be much there,” he grinned, “but this d have gone round twice over.” I could not deny the fact; there was more than enough for that. Before we had gone a quarter of a mil? against that terrific wind, the rain had cut our faces like hailstones. Where before we had the open beach, we had

how to clamber over masses of rock, brought dov/n from the cliffs, the great sea breaking landward, covering <yir old tracks along the sand. With the short supply of food—hunting being out of the question—we were entirely dependant on what we had saved. In our calculations there had been no thought of encountering such awful weather. It was a dismal tramp; the Maoris silent and depressed, Sheen getting more illtempered as our difficulties increased, and Coulished’s halts becoming more frequent and prolonged. He kept up with me as close as possible, but I had to call Sheen back to help me with him over Piopiotahi, which, even on that wide ford, had risen nearly to our waists and was running with a strong current, icy .cold. He clung to us in his weakness, like a frightened child. We struggled on till we reached -the further river, which lay between us and the narrow path by which we had descended. Tho Maoris gave a cry and as I looked upon the rushing flood my heart sank to my boots. From tlie south the cold and driving rain continued and here we were, prisoners on the barren coast — foodless,; fireless —drenched to our wretched skins and one of us, at least, well nigh spent. Even the Captain despaired, seemingly at his wits end. . “Good God.” he murmured under his breath, “we’ll never get over this.” Coulished clung shivering to my arm. . “Our last hour has come,” he gasped with chattering teeth. : “Stow your gab, will you, you snivelling cur?” growled the Captain, who had been seeking an object for the rage that was consuming him—a rage born less of .anger than despair. Then, addressing Whiwhi: “Is that the only track by which we can return?” he asked.

For a moment the Maori stood wrapped in thought. His gloomy face disheartened us. . After some hesitation a look of forced decision came over it. “The only track for us to travel,” he answered. '“But perhaps the pakeha in his ignorance may think that the Lake of Spirits is better than certain death. W© will turn back and I will lead you up Piopiotahi to Waipouuamu. Death and disaster may be there but we cannot live here without food, and in this wind and rain.

So we turned, the storm full in our faces, and retraced our steps to .Piopiotahi. We could not cross it again; it had risen rapidly and was now impassible. Once more night was approaching with no sign of abatement in the storm. It had settled down into a steadier rain than ever. We camped at the entrance of the shadowy gorge, huddling together all the night for the sake of warmth, after quite .a good meal for us, as the Maoris had caught a kiwi and two wekas, which they tried to cook over our smouldering fire. They, were less cooked than smoked in consequence, but in our starved condition no one was disposed to quarrel with the fare, except Coulished, who only took a mouthful. -~

Wliat with the roaring torrent and Coulished’s groans, I slept badly and was right glad to see the morning break. It brought a slight improvement in the weather. Ooulislied, haggard and dreadful looking, death written on his pallid features, moved .with difficulty. “What--about'Coulished, Captain?” I asked. ff He’s not fit to travel. We shall'have to carry him, I’m afraid.” ' Sheen, urging the Maoris to start, replied with a contemptuous laugh. Our terrible position did not improve his temper or his humanity. “How far to the lake, Whiwhi ?” I asked.

“A day’s journey! W r e shall be at the Lake of Greenstone to-night, tt might-be better to die,” he added enigmatically.

• Coulished, sitting with his back against the rock, looked indeed a pitiable object. “Now, Martin, up with you!” said Sheen, with an oath, crossing to him as soon as we were ready to. start. “Dan,” returned Coulished, 7 in appealing tones, “you’ve brought me to my death!”

“Brought you to your death,” sneered Sheen. “You’ve come'of your:.own free will, following me like ir 4 y own shadow, because you were too suspicious to let me out of your sights Brought you, indeed, you ugly hag of bones! I didn’t bring you! Now you’re here, act like a man and make a fight for your life. Get up, I say, or I leave you behind! The whole party’s not going to hang back for the sake of you.” Rising painfully to his feet as we started, Coulislied drew slowly up to me. I cannot picture the wretched condition we were in, with death facing us in many forms. Beneath us the madly roaring torrent; overhead the same dull, grey sky. Every now and then the wind swept up'" the narrow gorge in driving squalls; the rain fell mercilessly ; and, ahead of us, terrorising the Maoris, loomed a strange and unknown danger. And we had crossed the seas for this! True! We had won great wealth, how great we could not tell, for in our hurried state there had been no time for close ■ inspection. True! Our eyes had feasted on unrivalled gold, a ransom for a king. This we had sought, and toiled for, over many a mile, through long and weary And just as truly was Ookished near-

ing the gate of death, however far Sheen and I had to journey. Laboriously wo made the painful ascent of the gloomy gorge towards Waipounamu, the lake of mystery, tho place that Whiwhi, brave man though lie was, regarded with so much trepidation. Little wonder that I traversed the Piopiotahi with despairing, heavy steps, and with a heart oppressed with hopelessness.

(To be Continued.)