FICTION.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1687, 29 June 1904, Page 3

FICTION.

CAPTAIN SHEEN, ADVENTURER

AN HISTORICAL ROMANCE OF

NEW ZEALAND,

(BY CHARGES OWEN.)

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

CHAPTER XIII.

The gorge narrowed as we proceeded, the > rain-swollen Piopiotahi roaring along its bottom with an ever increa->-ing fall. Over huge boulders the water rushed churned into whirling pools of muddy foam, dashing round corners, and tearing the rocky sides like some imprisoned devil of the pit. The track was overhung with frowning cliffs, in places clothed with drooping, graceful ferns, shining green and fresh in the still falling rain—in other places bare. .Where water was trickling down the wet sides shone like veined cornelian. We trod a slippery path and one false step would have sent us headlong into the turbulent river far below.

Another monotonous day was nearing its close as we scrambled on, over slips and roots, helping one another round jutting points of rock and over the obstructing boulders. The light grew dimmer and the roar of the waters louder every minute. I realised that such a \'olume of sound could not proceed merely from the flooded chasm below. It boomed down the narrow gorge lik i distant thunder and seemed to shake the eternal hills to their foundations. Was this deep note —deafening in its intensity—the sound that reached my ears that still night, as I lay awake on the saddle, miles away, wondering and afraid!*

To my great surprise and relief Coulished, by our frequent help, had somehow' managed to keep going. Talking was out of the question unless we shouted to each other, but he stopped two or three times in order to scream his terror in my ear. The path had become a mere ledge beside the dark yawning chasm, lighted, high overhead, by one little strip of sky. Climbing round a projecting rock, we found ourselves standing on the side of a deep basin, into which the waters of Piopiotahi poured, from a height of more than a thousand feet.

Coulished, clutching my arm, gave a cry; Sheen and the Maoris were yelling questions and answers to each other ahead of • us; I stood appalled in the presence of this miracle of nature. The chasm had w'idened out into a natural amphitheatre, surrounded by unscaleable cliffs. The zig-zag path we traversed, winding round, about half way down, appeared to lead right into the heart of the thundering cascade. From hundreds of reet above us, ever gathering; force, the mighty mass-of water descended sheer into a seething, boiling cauldron of frothy foam, far down below. The roar was deafening, the sight oppressive in its majesty. There, confronting us, draping the cliff, the torrent .hung like a long, shimmering, white curtain. \ Coulished shrieked in my ear:— - “See! The track ends in there!” To this I made no reply, being intent on watching Sheen and the Maoris, who, finding conversation no longer possible, were slowly proceeding along what remained of the track towards the fall. I followed them, urging Coulished on. “The mouth of Hell," he yelled with a shudder, pointing to the pool hundreds of feet below. As we neared the’fall I was astonished to see Whiwhi suddenly detaoh himself from the others and disappear. One by one the other three Maoris vanished also, leaving Sheen alone in sight. He beckoned to us to hurry. I got Ooulished on-, as well as I could, along the slippery ledge and through the misty vapour that hung around Uo. Sheen was crouching close against the cliff when we reached him, while the Maoris, we found, were waiting for us oh a track that curved under the cliff behind the fall. It looked dangerously risky. Coulished stared at me beseechingly.; his blue lips moved nervously, but his voice was unheard. Then, firmly planting ;his back against the rock, he indicated his refusal to move another step. Sheen’s patience, the little he had, gave out. Coulished shook with terror as I took one bony arm m obedience to the Captain’s gesticulations. Enraged like the angry surge which drowned his voice, glaring like a fiend, and clenching his teeth, Sheen seized the trembling wretch by the other arm and together, though my heart misgave me, we dragged him with us until we came up with the Maoris. They, moving on, turned to the left on the far side of the waterfall and were again lost to sight. I expected every moment the shuddering Coulished would slip from my grasp and be carried to certain destruction. My own foothold was not the most secure, and only sheer necessity proved my endurance. It seemed as .though , we had death behind and death in front of us. The sensation of

that awful moment was beyond words. Over our heads the torrent swept, with gigantic force, into gulphing space. Nothing was to be seen but failing water, which appeared a tremulous wall of yel-low-greenish light. We were drenched, to the skin, shivering with the extreme cold, and, though our pause was of short duration, we were getting dazed by our strange predicament. Sheen, leading the way with Coulished between us, with difficulty we reached the further side and crawled out after the Maoris. To our dismay they had completely disappeared. Following their track, we hastened oh, when suddenly the path turned into a narrow cleft in the rock, tending upwards. There I was glad to find that the Maoris awaited us and we proceeded, stumbling along in single file, over stones and through shallow pools of water. Travelling once more in comparative safety, my mind had time to reflect upon the wonderful scene we had just left, the sound of which was deadened in the confined space. The recollection has never faded from my mind. Even now in my age, if I shut my eyes, at any moment. I can hear the roaring torrent and conjure up every detail of the' time and place, acting over again, as in a dream, the weird and terrible adventure. Shut in by two precipitous walls, the; narrow defile was as dark as night. Looking skyward, we could see trio stars though it yet wanted at least an iiour to sunset, and instinctively we drew closer together. Though unable to see one another, ifc was re-assuring to hear Sheen speak, especially as there was a show of confidence in his tone The Maoris were unusually dull and dejected. At the sound of his voice they came to a standstill. “What do you think of that for a bit of scenery, Caspar?” lie shouted, and the words echoed strangely. “We’ve come through the mouth of Hell,” whimpered Coulished, patheticaliv repeating his one idea. The Captain laughed quite good-hu-mouredly. “Hell!" he mimicked. “Hell’s still ahead of us. The water here would douse Hell and drown the devil. All the same I’ll admit we’re making a bad run, and I for one won’t be sorry to sight a port.” “Is there any more as bad as that ?” f asked. •How the devil can I tell?” returned the Captain, shortly. “Whiwhi has a face on him like a landlubber in a hurricane, so I guess there’s more ahead The place they call Waipounamu will come next. Did you hear that?” hi exclaimed, listening intently. From the far distance there came the cry of some frightened or dying animal, penetrating to where we stood, as if to inspire us with increased fear.. I had noticed the same cry more faintly several times before, and it was evidently the subject of the Maoris’ conversation just in front of us.

“Hell and all its horrors on every side,” cried Coulished in dismay, ‘"•old, wet, hunger, darkness and God know.s what else besides.”

“Whiwhi, what is that noise?” shouted Sheen.

The Maoris became significantly silent.

“The pakeha would not understand,” Whiwhi returned slowly. “Ho hears the voice of a race that is passing away for ever, and the voice is raisod in an exceeding bitter cry. The pakeha shall see as well as hear. Let us go forward to the lake for tho day is nearly ended. ’ Moving on for half an hour or more, we persevered up the monotonous rise, feeling rather than seeing our way between the precipitous walls that nearly touched us on either hand. I knew that some time in the day the sun must penetrate to the very bottom of this curious cleft, if only for a few short minutes, while it was directly overhead ; for the greater part of the twenty-four hours the path we trod must remain plunged in darkness and in gloom. At last the strip of fading light above our heads extended downwards, until it became a thin streak, level with our feet, and we knew that the end of the crevice was in sight. This increased our speed, beckoning us onward, we hoped, to better things, till close on each other’s heels, pushing our way through the small exit, we once more breathed freely in the open air. Sheen’s astonishment round vent in a great oath; an inarticulate groan broke from Coulished’s parched and bloodless lips, as he caught hold of me, amazed at the stupendous and almost awful prospect. My own feelings at that moment could not be expressed; no words of mine could ever do them justice. Jt looked the dwelling place of evil spirits who day and night haunted this abode of desolation, reigned over by the majesty of silence. On every side of us the mountains towered upwards, their snowy peaks showing pale and grey against the dark, evening sky. All signs of rain had gone and there was not a breath of. wind; even the air seemed dead in the prevailing stillness. Looking round about me, absorbed, it was some time before I fully realised the situation in which we were placed. Bo far as the eye could kee, there was no other entrance into the deep, hillsurrouuded cup in which we stood besides the cleft through which we had come. All round, high above us, the ice lay deep and glistening, robing the

mountains a good part of the way down, where, exposing enormous cliffs of bare dark coloured rock, it ended. Worn by water and scoured by many an avalanche, these cliffs stood precipitous and inaccessible, forming insurmountable barriers between us and any pass there might be, among those clustering mountain peaks. Picking up a loose piece of rock from the cliff beside me, to my great astonishment, I found that it was greenstone. Contemplating the marvels of the hills, my eyes wandered downward below the level on which I stood.

The winding track, if track it could be called, descended a distance of about a hundred feet and was there lost among the stones upon the beach. In the still air the water lay like a floor of polished marble; no wave rippled its shining surface, which mirrored the repose of the lofty mountains and the paling tints of the cloudless, evening sky. Around the barren shores not a blade of grass, nor shrub, nor tree of any sort, was to be seen. Surely a more sterile and unwholesome spot could hardly be found upon the earth. To add to its terrors, across it every now and then, giving to it one ill-fated and mysterious touch of life, there came that thrilling cry, we heard in the crevice, but louder and more piercing. Even Sheen was scared, for the moment, looking unmistakably' for some means of exit and escape. His face was stern and white and lie turned savagely on Whiwhi. “What damned hole brought us into?” he cried. “Was there nowhere else we could camp for the night, besides this infernal spot? Where’s the road out? Speak, Whiwhi! Quick! We must get out of it before the darkness comes.”

Whiwhi, unaffected by the Captain’s tone, spoke with aggravating calmness. “'The pakeha must pass the night on the shores of Waipounamu,” he answered quietly, “under Te-ana-a-te-atua !”* “Come Whiwhi!" I broke in persuasively. “Can’t we hurry and get out before nightfall?" “No!” answered the Maori, shaking his head. “See! the darkness comes quickly and surely. Like a mat, it is now falling over the shoulder of the mountain.”

It was true! The damp night air clung about us and the blue of the sky was deepening into violet. Without further argument Whiwhi led the way down to the beach, where more dreadful than ever seemed the deathlike calm that lay upon the water as we stood beside it. It stretched like a great glass without a flaw, reflecting all things near it.

Our guide proceeded, keeping close to the green, sandy belt on the water’s edge, making towards the further side of the lake, in the direction of the distressful scream, harrowing in its persistent repitition. The distance proved deceptive to the eye; we seemed to gat no nearer and darkness was coming m apace. More and more terrible became our plight as we grew accustomed to it, some mysterious dread of impending evil adding to the terrors of the scene. Upon none of us, however, did this prey so much as on Coulished. I had at times literally to drag him along, and his face wore the expression of , the doomed. As if afraid of his own voice, in that deep stillness, he spoke but once. „ . . , ‘T daren’t stay here for the night, Caspar,” he cried. The words impressed me the more as it was the first time he had ever addressed me by name. “Nonsense!” I protested. “What matter where, so long as we can snatch an hour or two’s sleep.” He gave a sudden scream, almost pulling me backwards, unprepared as I was, as, like a thunder clap, that agonised cry, close upon us, smote our ears and then, repeated with mocking reverberations, slowly died away into the silence that could be felt. “Listen,” he gasped, “we’re in Hell, I tell you, we’re in Hell! It’s the torture of the damned!” Sheen, who was some way ahead, turned and looked back, raising his hand; the Maoris stopped also. “For God’s sake hold your jaw, Martin.” he growled, “we’re all in the same *The cave of God. tßpirit* \

boat and if she founders, we foundsi* together. You’re always snivelling abo it Hell!”

Whiwhi stood surveying him scornfully, himself apparently brave and unconcerned. ♦

“Is the pakeha afraid of death?” ha asked, adding with the fatalism common to his race: —“The Maori is full of awe iu the presence of the atuaf; he does not fear the last sleep. Qome! A few steps further and we reach Te-ana-a-te-atua.”

Whiwhi’s few steps proved to he upwards of a quarter of a mile and by the time we had covered that distance it was dark. We halted at last under a large block of greenstone that had been dislodged from the adjoining cliff. The monotonous cry which had distracted us so long recurred. It seemed to proceed from some - spot high over our heads but was less frequent than formerly and as the night advanced assailed our ears only at rare intervals. Our guides, knowing the barren nature of our camping ground, had brought a bundle of sticks from the hills, sufficient to make a fire, round which we crowded while we ate the few mouthfuls of food we had left. One and all were well nigh famished, having tasted nothing since our early start, save berries, roots and fungus, we had picked up by the way. I found it difficult to swallow any of the raw, dried fish and other scraps, sodden with the rain; but no living flesh had been met with near this accursed place. Feeling somewhat heartened, the first hours of the dark passed less wearily than might have been expected. One® only Sheen tried to obtain some further information from Whiwhi.

“Whiwhi, what’s that up yonder, making that loud noise we can hear all the time?” he asked. “It’s a long time a dying!” lie added half to himself. “The atua is hungry; he feeds on the bird,” answered the Maori grimly. Shortly afterwards the piteous cry again broke' through the pitchy darkness overhead. Coulished groaned aloud.

“Feed on, oh Atua!" shouted Whiwhi. “Feed on! Let thy tooth suck the blood that has grown red on th® tuatara* for generations! Thy enemy is laid low! • Aue! Aue! Kua ngaro a moa te iwi neij!” By the flickering firelight I saw a, smile creep over the Captain’s face.

“Eum devils!” he remarked. “Caspar, my boy, we’ve struck a sorry port. We’re about a cable’s length from Davy Jones.”

Having said this, he relapsed into sleepy silence. Fatigued by the long and trying march, I soon fell into a doze, from which I woke to find that the fire had burnt, itself out. Our scanty stock of fuel gone, we huddled closer together. I was between Sheen and Coulished, the latter moaning and tossing. In more senses than one the weight of wealth lay heavy on us. Not only had it seriously hampered our movements from the start, it now bade fair to cost us our very lives. Surely the regular, healthy life of our little village, however, tame and monotonous, had been preferable to this —to lying out in the cold black night with heaven alone knew what devilry around me, and with the wanderings of a dying man by jmy side to crown my fears. He was talking to himself in low cones, every now and then jabbering louder, but so inarticulately that I could not make out what he said Some time later whole sentences clearer than the rest caught my ear.

“Good God!” he cried out once, and whether it was profanity of prayer it was impossible to tell. “Good God! Let me die in the dark! Sheen ’d laughl Sheen mustn’t see me die. Let me die in the dark! Why was I born ?” He laughed hoarsely; then was silent for a time. Then ho burst out again;—

“Why was I born? Not that my death might be a byeword to old Dan Sheen! How mad he’ll be to find me dead! Ha! Ha! Ha! Peter Minns, you cowardly fool! Split her head open with a hatchet. I would! She’s only a woman! We must have no witnesses. Well donei; you’ve parted her hair, anyway ! Here Chappel, I.say, give us. a lift! Not much of her; and there’s less

now. See the sharks! No witnesses! No witnesses 1” ‘ ' Did he need any poor wretch as he .. gave evidence against himself. The last bitter laugh disturbed the Captain.. “Can’t you keep him quiet, Caspar? be demanded. “Bis mind’s wandering over his.guilty • past,” I explained. "Nothing will stop him.” . “The fFrolic’s’ a bonny boat, my lads,” the croaking wretch a few minutes later blurted out again, “a bonny boat! Decks,slippery with blood! with bloo —•—” ' He stopped suddenly and began fighting for breath, which came in quick, - jerky gasps, getting shorter and shorter, n-ntil with a gurgling noise he lurched forward against me, his head resting on my arm. A quiver or two followed and he lay still. “What’s that, Caspar?” asked Sheen, rousing up. “He’s dead!” I cried, trembling at the words I felt were true, yet hoped jivere not. X dared not move; had I done so he would have rolled over. - i There I sat motionless, half pajralysad by my* utter inability to aid him, even if that were still possible. “A light 1 Quick 1” I called. Sheen struck his flint repeatedly but the tinder* wet with our recent soaking, would not take. Then he bethought him how useless it would have been; our flares were gone and we’d no wood. Cursing our helpless condition, he gave the dead man a rude shake as if to, reassure himself: then with a growl and a f prolonged yawn, he slid wearily down to await the day. The tired Maoris slept on undisturbed. Cramped up as I was, but for the extreme cold, numbing my sense of feeling, I could not possibly have kept the posture long. Painful, indeed, it became, but rather than touch the dead weight, that oppressed me, I would have borne much. -In this lifeless region did Time exist —or was it dying, too? It scarcely moved I All things else were dead or locked in slumber as sound; I alone awake—alive! How long I sat with chattering teeth in that awe-struck attitude, I know not. Imagination ran riot and my nerves gave way. Then I can recollect hearing something, and, with ears alert, and eyes peering into the night, I was listening acutely when a sound, if sound it was, being felt rather than heard, made my flesh creep. It proceeded from Coulished. Did he still live? ■ , Banishing my fear at a stroke, I leaned over; my ear touched his claycold brow—l recoiled from the contact as from a reptile t-o be forced back by a will I hardly knew I possessed. Pressing it closely, I waited —it may have . been seconds—it may have been minutes —no matter—l felt a twitch—slight— but still a distinct movement. “Sheen! Sheen!” I called.

Thinking we might still restore him, I sought to chafe his hands. They were buried in his clothes among the treasure, his limbs being stiff and set. “Sheen!” I cried louder.

After repeated calls he roused up, grunted a response and soon again breathed heavily. Once more I ventured, placing my ear over the same spot. Oh, God! As if startled by attempted robbery, the clay-cold broAv had puckered into wrinkles, rigid and unyielding as craven stone. Heaven alone knoAvs how the remaining hours of darkness passed. As I now write, that gaunt, grimy visage, glares up at me from the page and every time I recall that black, dead night, I am beset, on all sides, by a spectre miser with the glazed eyeballs and gaping mouth that met my fearful glance with the ghostly dawn. CHAPTER XIV. The light came painfully slowly, disclosing fully the rigid form and distorted features of Coulished, the haggard, unmoved faces of the Maoris as they moodily crouched together, and Sheen still sleeping. Wierd beyond expression was the outlook. The horrible, stagnant lake, with unchanged aspect, lay placid and serene as on the night before. The mountain, peaks stood solemnly around, silent sentinels, clothed in ashen grey, keeping their nightly watch over the sleep of death that lay on all things at their feet. I roused the Captain, reminding him of what had occurred. Ho sprang up and peered into the dead man’s face. “My God! He’s dead, Caspar,” he exclaimed. j

“Yes, he’s dead,” I returned. “Kua mate!” murmured the Maoris, crowding round. I leaned over and tried to unclasp the stiffened fingers grasping his belt. “What do you think took him, Caspar?”' asked the Captain. “The Lord knows,” I said solemnly. “It’s an ill wind that blows nobody liny goed and if the Lord’s got him Ave

*The large form of lizard almost extinct. . i . JProverbial saying applying to the gradual decrease of the Maori people. The Maori, like the moa, passes away. For further information see Oolenso’s interesting article in Transactions N.Z I. *The place of departed spirits. . tPersonification of the sky. JPersonification of the winds. •Maori name for North Island of N.Z/

may as well have what’s left. This place is Hell and no mistake,” Sheen continued, ■ “or next door to it and the sooner we are out of it the better.” I half believed it, such havoc had the previous night’s ordeal wrought upon a constitution already weakened by exposure. I was completely unnerved by the long vigil beside the dying wretch whom I could not see, whose suffering it was hot in my power to alleviate, and for whom I could do nothing save sit and listen to his agonised screams, and then support.him dead. And, oh, the bitterness of remorse as he rambled on, shrieking in my ears those frightful disclosures of crimes, to me inconceivable, gloating over the recollection with a fiendish gusto that sickened me and made my blood run cold. Loathing succeeded pity. Not him alone I hated, but more than ever before or_since I cursed the wealth we had discovered and, I grieve to say it, the day that I was horn.

With greed unabashed, even in the presence of death, Sheen forcibly wrenched away the bony fingers that still clutched the treasure and transferred the .most valuable portion of it to himself. Then, in obedience to his command, I helped him weight the hideous corpse with stones and drag it to the water’s edge. There, shuddering and nearly overcome, we slung it far into the unseen depths. “Ha-!” said Whiwhi, with native solemnity, "the pakeha has passed into the great and everlasting silence, even to Te Rienga*! He was the one chosen by the Atua, by the spirit that comes in the night! Verily this is Waipounamu; the water without bottom; the place of greenstone; the strange place of madness and death in the mountain! My people pass before the footsteps of the pakeha; but now I have seen the passing of the pakeha. So let ifc be! The great bird is also silent!” Directly he finished, the Maoris prepared to start, and in truth our condition had become desperate. Without food or fire, we were shut in by the circle of the frowning hills, with no apparent exit. I was past caring about anything, and it was with weary steps I dragged myself along the, shore in the growing daylight, leaving the bubbles from the sinking body of our companion still rising to the now broken surface of the dead lake. For upwards of half ' a mile there was no break in the towering cliffs, that hedged us in, and our means of escape from that natural prison remained a mystery. At last Whiwhi began the steep ascent of a tiny ravine, or channel, grooved by water from the melting snow above. It was a trying climb and we must have been going for an hour, using hands and feet, when looking up we found that Whiwhi had stopped in an opening into the solid rock. This proved to be the mouth of what had, in far away times, been a subterranean water- ' course. Pointing downwards, Whiwhi spoke:— ~ ~T . “Look, pakeha!” he said. Look your last on Waipounamu, for we shall see it no more. In silence it will rest, made cold and desolate by the dropping tears o* Hangi; untouched by the gentle breath of Tawhiramat-ea; the abode of the tuatara and the moa that cries iu Te-ana-a-te-atua.” . “Whiwhi,” I cried on reaching the spot, fatigued and out of breath, is that the only way?” “The only way, pakeha, replied the Maori, “is through the heart of Pap£, black with sorrow, and thence once more out into the light of day. Men must eat or die. Here is neither food nor fire. The Maori would see Te-ika-a-Maui again, but the pakehas can choose for themselves. They can remain and pass into the great silence with the tuatara and the moa ” Without further parley, he turned into the cave whither his three companions had already disappeai ed and with a volley of curses, seizing my arm, Sheen followed. That was hut the first step of an almost endless journey through tho underworld to which I look hack as to an ill-remembered dream. Nearly exhausted as I was, I groped on and, on mechanically, urged along by Sheen, threatening and coaxing by turns. The rest is a confused recollection. I was dimly ccnscicus that the pitch darkness was ternfymg—the atmosphere foul and overpowei ing, while, horrible to remember, clammy things, winged and screaming, dashed themselves against- my face or against the hand outspread to shield it. At last—blinded, stupified with fright and fatigue, I must have sunk exhausted. Seemingly I fell into airless space, unlit by sun or star. Then, caught by strong hands, I was home along without conscious motion through a dark valley in the spirit world where far distant human sounds reached my ear—at times I distinguished words of cheer—at others curses. Lost souls buffeted me and sought to stay me with despairing cries. “It’s all over,” said a voice beside me. “All over!” Then were these returning from the Judgment and how far had. we to go? I was utterly powerless to make further effort urge as they might. Should I-eould I be m time? “We’re outside!” a voice exclaimed. Then all of a sudden a glory burst upon me—white as the light—painful m its intensity. Even with shut, averted eyes X could discern a blaze, as of glittering jewels, but a wailed “Too late,

too late!” announced that the pearly gates were shut. At this I was overcome and lay dozing awhile, unable to look up; my eyes dared not face my doom. At last, summoning courage, I strove to catch a glimpse of the outer splendour of the place and above me stretched the blue, cloud-flecked, sky. I was lying on the mountain side in the bright, exhilarating sunny air and down a long valley could be caught a glimpse of the Great Lake. In the warmth I revived sufficiently to raise my head, though with difficulty, so prostrate had I been, and found my companions busying themselves obtaining food and fire. They had given me up for dead, carrying me, after I fell, all through that subterranean gloom. The meal that followed, though scanty enough, put new life into me and I was able to study my surroundings and my companions.

We were a wretched looking group. The events of the last twenty-four hours crowning our former privations had left their marks on all of us. Sheen had never looked so oale and dejected; his face was lean and wrinkled, his clothes hung loosely upon him. The Maoris were thin, haggard and worn. I sank back on the hare mountain-side, hungry at heart for a glimpse of a flowery, English meadow. Treasure and adventure might both have gone hang for that. It was a natural revulsion. I should have burst into tears and have sobbed like a child if I had yielded to the impulse within me. Forcing back the lump that had risen in my throat, I was relieved to hear Sheen speak. “My God!” he exclaimed; “what a man has. to go through this side o’ Kingdom Ocme!” He blinked at me with tired eyes, as we talked of our escape through the underground tunnel and his pale face grew paler, even to the lips, when I asked him about the screeching things that brushed us in the dark. “Don’t mention them, for God’s sake,’’ he cried with a shudder. “But it couldn’t be them we heard last night,” I persisted. “No! By thunder!” he responded in a husky voice. “That was the trumpet calling’ the devil to prayers.” “Didn’t Whiwhi say it was a. bird ?” I reminded him.

“1 don’t believe it,” he answered. “A bird’d Avant lungs like a smithy bellows to blast forth such an ear-splitting note.”

“Was this what Uncle Ronald raved about, do you knoAv?” I asked. “How should I know,” he said; “it might he. Many a time I’ve heard Ronny speak of the bird but I could never get the leaf out of his log that gave the full particulars, so- I thought it was a sailor’s yarn.” “Folks’ll think what Ave’ve seen, a sailor’s yarn,” I answered: “that is if we ever get back to tell of it.”

“Let ’em,” said Sheen; “I’ve got proof of it, the only evidence I want.” He patted the treasure, that padded his clothing, significantly. Then, turning away, he called to WhiAvhi. “Any more rocks ahead —I mean have we a pretty straight course before us?” he asked.

The Maori, who stood looking towards the Great Lake, smiled grimly. “There are rocks and shallows througnout life,” he answered; ‘‘and other evils and dangers to face besides those that dwell at Waipounamu and Te-ana-a-te-atua. There is the Great Chief at Kapiti and the utu to be got from Tamaiharanui at Akaroa.” That agreement with Te Rauparaha was to me the one remaining shadow noAv that we were in less peril and on more familiar ground. Sheen scowled. “We must charter a Avhaler at Kapiti,” he said, “that’s certain. We must raise a whaler!”

“Better never have made a bargain you cannot keep,” I returned. ‘Tm Captain still,” he said, with a hard stare. “Bear that in mind, if you please, and don’t question the course I steer. What I did saved our lives — no less —and it’s got to he carried out and it will be, for all Morgan’s treachery. |sl carry it out all right, you’ll see.” His steady gaze stopped all argument. A$ we ceased Whiwhi gave the word to

descend the mountain side to the track which led along the shore of the Great Lake. It was long after midday when we called a halt for the first satisfying meal we’d had for days. With wood and water handy and sheltered camping ground, we decided to stay for a day or two and enjoy a sadly needed rest. Once more birds were plentiful and thenceforward we never felt the pinch of short commons. Quickly recovering strength, cheered by the warmth and sunshine, our spirits soon revived.

Our journey from the Great Lake to Ka Papahori and from there to the seashore, if arduous, was so uneventful that many a time I looked back at the ever lessening mountains and began to regard our late adventure in the light of a fearful dream. Then my hand, from long habit, Avould touch the weighty jewels, shifting the precious burden to ease the chafe, and the vision of the lonely wreck would rise before me. Again I was entombed within her and fled in the wild morning of rain and wind, with my companions, along the shore, on one side the angry sea — the towering cliffs upon the other. It was all too real to be a dream. Those snoAV-capped sentinels guarded secrets never to be divulged to mortal man. Within their shelter lay Waipounamu, in deadly sleep; it's bright surface a great, green seal, unbroken, Avould betray no sign. Never while I live shall I forget the roar of Piopiotahi; nor the gaping crevice that shut us from it and all things save ourselves; nor the daystar, twinkling through the slit that threatened to close at every bend; nor, least of all, the groans of Coulrshed in torment ore he died. As Sheen truly said: “What things there were this side of Kingdom Come.” CHAPTER XV. By easy stages avo reached Waitaki, the end of our long trudge; and after two days rest our full creAV re-embarked for Kapiti. There Avas a heavy groundSAvell along the coast, the dying anger, perhaps, of some distant storm; and many times I Avas afraid Ave should founder or capsize. The Maoris, however, displayed no unusual concern. WhiAvhi appeared equal to any emergency that might arise, and Avas always confident that his frail craft Avould Aveather the worst sea. There was one adventure they did not face with so much indifference. As we neared the vicinity of Akaroa, in the starlight stillness of a frosty night, fires Avere burning along the shore and the place seemed all astir. Enjoining the strictest silence, Whiwhi tried to steal by unnoticed. In spite of every precaution, Ave were discovered as Ave Avere almost opposite the pah. Excitement Avas apparent in the moving lights Avhich flashed here and there alternately, and in the eager voices demanding who we were. Then, anud much clamour, and a great rushing to and fro, they launched a large canoe ui pursuit. Meanwhile we pulled for our very lives; t-he canoe, responsive to the effort, leapt through the water like a porpoise, leaving a foamy trail for those in chase.

It was plain by the fires that the Ngaitahu had expected our return, and by the speed with which they got afloat, just as plain, they were prepared for it. They soon got our bearings and their canoe well under way. And now. the race began in deadly earnest. Not a word was uttered. For miles we fled, with no chart but the starry sky. With the dawn, the Ngaitahu, finding that wo had outstripped them, abandoned the chase. Then we eased off, and, regaining our breath, commented noisily on our escape from certain death—or worse. The Maoris were jubilant and, for the first time during our quest, displayed any great emotion. No other incident of note disturbed the remainder of our voyage until one fine morning, in calm weather, Kapiti hove in sight. “The outlook’s stormy,” muttered Sheen, as we approached the yelling and gesticulating groups, awaiting our landing. “Why?” I asked.

“No whalers about,” he answered, with a significant jerk of his head, “and the chiefs are giving us the cold shoulder. What’s wrong with Te Rauparaha.

I wonder, for he’s cute enough to know ' that the brig couldn’t be back from . Australia yet. That devil, S-angihaea-tafe been having it all his own way, -that’s clear, denouncing the pakeha and the folly of believing any white man's spoken word.” Then, scanning , the strait: if Damn his eyes! I wish a sail ' would heave.in sight,” he added. “You’d still have the bargain to square even if there were. a sail,” 1 remarked.-.’., - “The what!” he cried.- . - '“‘The bargain !” . I repeated with emphasis. “The taking of Tamaiharanui “:-and the present of .muskets!” > • Whiwhi was watching us closely and it was well he did not understand us. The Captain laughed at his own affected stupidity. “The bargain,” he echoed absently. “Oh! Yes! The bargain! It’s always the bargain with you!” He measured me for some seconds . with his eye. ;• *" “Ah, well,” he reflected, “I never saw a South Sea whaler yet who couldn’t be bought, and, given a ship, I’ll undertake to carry out bargain enough to get us free, always provided one thing, you understand, Caspar,” his face grew hard and ' determined, “that you keep your hands off the wheel!” I understood only too well and no- ,• tiling more was said until the canoe grated on the shingly beach. It was with mixed feelings that our. little par: v stepped ashore. As before, our arrival was greeted with shouts of welcome for our Maori companions, while we were treated with general coldness and contempt. There was something more, however, in the eyes of the ferocious old hag as she glared at us, foremost among the -howling throng. Sheen grinned his compliments and assumed an air of easy good-humour. “Where is Te Rauparaha?” he asked. “Up at his whare,” was the curt reply. “Come on, Caspar,” said Sheen, “we’ll go and talk to the great chief.” We found Te Rauparaha alone, smoking his pipe, crouched before a smouldering fire. As we entered, he glanced round at Sheen with an evil gleam in his eye and his salutation was as cold as ice. “How has the pakeha fared at Waipounamu?” he asked. Sheen shrugged his shoulders and smiled. “Well enough, Rangatira,” he said. “But your country is full of atuas. It is a terrible country!” Te Rauparaha showed his fang-like teeth.

“H’m!” he said. Then, after a pause, spent, in studying us from head to foot, he continued: “And the- pakeha with a face of fear, the trader! Where is he ?” “We left him dead in front of Teon the shores of Waipounamu,” Sheen returned. “Umph!” was the Chief’s sole reply. - will tell Te Rauparaha, ' Sheen went on, “all that happened to us at Te-ana-a-te-atua : and Waipounamu.” “Umph!” re-iterated the Chief. During the silence that followed, Sheen and Te Rauparaha looked at each other, the Maori like a tiger about „o spring. There was a grating; metallic ring in his voice when he spoke. “When does the pakeha rangatira perform his part of the contract with Te Rauparaha?” he asked. V “When the big waka comes back from Poihakena,” Sheen replied. “When will the big waka be back from Poihakena?” Te Rauparaha inquired. “It should be within another month,” Sheen made answer. “Umph!” repeated the Chief, in the same incredulous tone he had used throughout. “What more can I say to ease the mind of Te Rauparaha ?” asked Sheen. “The pakeha says his big waka has gone to Poihakena, eh?” Te Rauparaha said, with his eyes fixed on me rather than on Sheen, watching me with a cunning leer. ‘ “To Poihakena! It is true!” Sheen agreed, with a smile. “The pakeha lies!” contradicted Te Rauparaha, with a withering glance. - A less ready man than Sheen would have shown surprise, but he knew better. Ignoring the charge, he did not even trouble to reply. “The pakeha lies!” Te Rauparaha re- - peated with emphasis. . “The Rangatira says so,” Sheen admitted. “There was a whaleship here two days ago,” observed Te Rauparaha, with biC ing sarcasm. “ “Ah,” exclaimed Sheen, taken aback. “The pakeha sees his fraud is detected,” suggested Te Rauparaha. “Where no fraud is meant there can

be none to detect,” evaded Sheen. At this the Chief rose to his feet in a fury, threw down his pipe and stamped about the whare. Boiling over with rage, he burst out like the rattle of

musketry:— “There has been fraud! The big waka fflew away and left the three pakehas 1 here and will not return for them. The whale-catcher sighted the waka sailing for America. The pakeha is helpless; at the mercy of the Maori; and Tainaiharanui must still go unpunished. The pakeha knows that the big waka. was stolen and Te Rauparaha is deceived, trifled with, and mocked. Ugh 1 You liar!” he roared, pointing at /Sheen* i

“Xf it was so, we did not know it,” said Sheen, affecting innocence.. “I gave my officer orders t-o go to Poihakena. If he doesn’t return, it is I that have been deceived, trifled with and mocked ; and not Te Rauparaha. Besides, how did the whale-catcher know that the big waka was going to Aunerica ?”

“The officer of the Rangatira told him,” answered Te Rauparaha. “Then the pakeha has been much deceived. and robbed! What can he say, seeing that it is not his fault?” said Sheen.

Te Rauparaha was somewhat pacified by Sheen’s plausible excuses. “Fault!” he sneered. “Fault! The pakeha takes his loss easily- Te Rauparaha expects utu for all he does. Remember this, pakeha, and take warning.” “If the big waka does not return,” said Sheen, “when a. whale-catcher comes the Rangatira shall be paid in full. The Ingirihi help each other m difficulties.” The Chief’s face wore a look of scorn. “That is for the palcelia to see to,” he said. “For part of the utu, I must have Tamaiharanui trapped. I will give the pakeha till his big waka could have returned. If he then fails to perform his part, let him remember what happened to Whareine at Wangaroa. J have spoken!” y Hp sat down by the fire again, re-lit his pipe and puffed vigorously. We did not move but he took no notice of us, maintaining a disdainful silence that was in itself an order to depart. At anyrate as such we understood it, and after a moment" went from the presence of Te Rauparaha to a whare set apart for us. It was plain we were closely watched and any attempt to escape from the island would be madness. Our only hope was the arrival of a whaler who would undertake to carry out the bargain so revolting to my whole being. Such was the power of Sheen’s influence over me that, if I would, I could not rebel. Nevertheless the idea of his villainous scheme cut me to the quick, and I was ready to face torture rather than bear a willing hand in that bloodthirsty work, carrying death and destruction to so many, to satisfy the vengeance of Te Rauparaha. God knows my standard of morality was not a high one! I would have fought for my country against a common foe and have borne my share in the waging of open iyar, and I should have considered myself neither less, nor more, than any other soldier. But it was treachery I could not sanction. To steal down to Akaroa ostensibly for the purposes of trade; to fly a flag of peace at the masthead, and under the shelter of its folds to entice the natives on board the ship; and then to set upon them a hold full of murderous enemies; that was the point at which I stuck. But what could I do when my will was worth no more than a glance of the Captain’s eyes. Ever since I came under his spell I had many times eaten my heart out in vain repentance and just as vain regret. Some who read this story will think me a poor sort of hero. So I was! I never aspired to heroism but was just a simple English boy in toils that were too strong for him to break. Secure from observation in our whare, I ventured to once more remonstrate with Captain 'Sheen. “How long a time has Te Rauparaha given us?” I asked. “Till the brig could have got back from Port Jackson,” he said.

“But when will that he?” “About three weeks from now I should think.”

“Oh, well,” I remarked, “I shall expect the worst.” “And I the best,” he returned gaily. ‘You see, one whaler has already been here. There’ll likely be another before three weeks have gone. A good deal can happen in that run. Just my cursed luck that made us miss the other, and by two days only!”

I smiled at his assurance. ‘You’re mighty cock sure of inducing them to lend their ship,” I said. “Eih?” he said, tartly. “That’s my affair.”

“I reckon we’d ’both better die if we must do one ox* the other,” I said. “Hands off the wheel,” he reminded; “we’ve thrashed that out.” “What if Speering turns up here,” I suggested, shifting my ground. For a moment I thought Sheen meant to strike me. The purple veins on his forehead stood out and he clenched his fists involuntarily. .“Hell and fury!” he stormed. “What next? Just now it was the bargain! Now it’s Speering! Who’s Speering?” “The man you dodged at Bristol.” I explained; “the man who spoke from the ship in the fog.” It was a bold shot and I watched it’s mark. '

“Well?” he inquired, slightly subdued. “He wouldn’t carry out your bargain.” Sheen laughed, but it cost a palpable effort.

“No, he wouldn’t,” he admitted. “I’d have to lie low if he turned up, and I don’t know as I pine much for a sight of his face. But you’ll see it won’t be Speering who’ll come. It’ll be softer stuff than Steering,”

It happened the Captain was for, after ten dap ceaseless, watohiog, a t sail appeared in the strait. • With ifereathto eagerness m saw it draw

nearer and nearer. Then Te Rauparaha summoned us to his whare. “The chance comes, pakeha,” he said. “So we see, Rangatira,” answered Sheen.

“A good chance to escape, eh?” the Maori cunningly suggested. The Captain made a grimace. £ Te Rauparaha is a great Chief —and wise,” he said. “The minds of men lie. open to his eye,” answered the Maori. “The pakehas shall speak with the whale-catcher by-and-bye.' They will now return to their whare and stay- there until they are wanted.”

At his bidding Whiwlii and Rangihaeata, with four or five others who were standing near, escorted us back and two of them remained as a guard over us. We did not see the whaler’s arrival. To our intense disappointment, instead of hastening to the beach to learn all we could of her as she dropped anchor; to strain our eyes for any sign that might yield us relief; to see the boat lowered and who was in it as it reached the shore; instead of this, we were thrust into the dingy whare, there to await the pleasure of Te Rauparaha and the x’ising tide of events. CHAPTER XVI. The first intimation we received of the nationality of the strange vessel was the burr of a harsh, Scots voice outside the. whare. The speaker’s conversation reeked with foul oaths. My heart stood still: Sheen held his breath; then with a sigh of relief uttered the one word:— “Stewart I” “Who?” I whispered. “Old Jimmy Stewart,” Sheen chuckled to himself, “the one man, on the face of God’s earth, for the job.” One of our guards at this moment put his head in at the opening to the whare which up till now had been barred.

“Haere mai.*” he said. “There’s a pakeha wishes to korero. Te Rauparaha sends him to you. Come!” Almost before the man had finished speaking Sheen dashed through the doorway. Though longing for light and air and afire with curiosity from Sheen’s last remark, I almost feared the aspect of a fellow ci’eature so inhuman. Then, conquering myself, after an instant’s hesitation, I followed Sheen and found him greeting in free, sailor fashion, a coarse and portly seaman of middle age, grizzled and muscular, whose hard eyes glistened with surprised recognition. “God I” cried the burly stranger, “Dan Sheen! Man, it’s the unexpectit hap - pens.” “So it is, Jimmy,” Sheen answered, “so it is! But you’ve turned up trumps for once anyway, and in the nick of time, just when the game was against me for the want of a card.”

The newcomer shifted his quid and uttered a mii*thless laugh. • “Aweel, D'an,” he said, “ve cut a figure o’ fun an’ nae mistak’ by yer lane in siccan a place as thij. No’ e’en a ship’s dinghy by ye. I’d credited -ye wi’ bein’ a sleekit tod but it eems I’s mista’en. Hoo cam’ ye here man? Hoo cam’ ye here?”

Sheen, with no answering laugh, r©» turned impatiently:— “I’d as tight a craft as you ever set eyes on and the damned mate clear one night, while we were ashore. _ X hope he’s run slick into Hell.” Stewart raised -a big, dirty hand

hypocritically. “Hoot, toot!” he chuckled. “Dinna wish a man ill for besting ye. Dae as the lassies dae 3 say na’ tak’ it. Y®.. - ken it’s a guid sayin’ yon. Wha’s tha laddie, keekin’ owre yer shouther?” “Oh, I’m forgetting, you remember Ronald Mirrimy,” said- Sheen.

With the back of his band the Scot wiped away some tobacco juice, which trickled, down his stubbly chin. “Sib to auid Ronny?” he inquired, with a cautious stare.

“Ronny’s nevy, no less, and as game a cock as the old ’un,” said Sheen. “Here, Caspar, this is Captain Stewart.” The Scotsman seized my hand in a crushing grip. “I’m blythe to become acquent wi’ ye,” was his greeting, .“for the sake o’ yer forbears. Whaur’s Ronny the day ?”

“Gone by the board long since,” said Sheen; “been dead a year or more.” “Syne the deil’s got a gey, cannie counsellor,” retorted Stewart; “he was a bonnie man, was Ronny. Here’s till him onyway. He wasna’ abune a wee drap liimsel’.” Fetching out a flask from inside his thick cloth jacket, he took a pull, then handed it to Sheen.

“Drink, man,” he urged, “it’s ill speakin’ on a cauld ■ wame. Yer ootside duddies leuk the waur o’ wear sae ye maun get the warmth frae the inside.”

Smiling at this allusion to our tattered clothes, which were worn and ragged, Sheen took a good drink and offered the flask to me. I refused by a shake of the head and he returned it to Stewart.

“Now, Jimmy, what brings you here?* ho asked.

The Scotsman was taking a second nip. His blotchy face advertised the abuse of spii'its, likewise his shaki xg hand as he caught the flask and thrust it back into his pocket. “D’you hear?” said Sheen. “Im-phm!” hesitated Stewart, “naethin’ byordinar’ profitable.” “What are you on the look out for?” Sheen inquired. The smirk on Stewart’s face added zest to his reply. “Flax,” he said, “whale oil, dried heids. Man,- I tell ye, the heids ar© worth nae en’ o’ bawbees as ornaments an’ curiosities.” His callous indifference to a loathsome traffic filled me with apprehension. Sheen was thoughtful a moment. I forsaw that the fate of Tamaiharanui was sealed. I had little doubt as to the character of Stewart. If sufficient price were offered he would willingly fall in with any suggestion whatsoever. There was one remaining chance—we might slip off to the brig and leave the bargain unfulfilled. At the thought my pulse quickened, slowing again at the recollection of Te Rauparaha’s gift of foresight. We had him to reckon with. “Look here, Jimmy,” said Sheen; “if I put you on to a safe thing /will* you

me out of .« fix? It’ll lb© as easy As winking.” •v Stewart ceased his banter, his manner, becoming attentive. .“Ou, ay.l” he observed*. “I ken fine * that’ bare gentry , are whiles braggart beggars.” ' Sheen knit his brows. ; * ' ‘“Hear a man out,” he cried; “what’d you do for a cargo of flax P” “Gin ye want to be ta’en aff, canna ye say sae ?” Stewart asked. “I’m no’ ; for sayin’ that’d be owre muokle o’ a price for flax.” , . “That’s pnly part ’of it,” Sheen admitted. Then briefly, fired by the remembrance', he outlined our interview and bargain with Te Rauparaha, leaving out . all mention of the treasure and making the trapping of Tamaiharanui the main condition. The expression of Stewart’s face grew stern as Sheen finished, his cupidity fighting with some slumbering remnants of conscience. “We’ll start clear, onyway,” he cried. ( Tm no’ fain to buy a thief frae the gallows an’ I’m thinkin’ this suggestion "o’ yours has the leuk o’ that Dan. Ye want we to transport a hirsel 6’ thae dark loons doon to Akaroa for the purpose o’ bluidy murder. I ken the gemm fine! It’d be a unco plot to ding r the lugs o’ oor native kintra wad it no’?”

“It’s only acting as transport on agreement,” argued Sheen. “Wi’ the de’il,” Stewart broke in. “With the devil, not likely,” Sheen expostulated. “With one tribe against another, that’s all. What the Hell does it matter to you dr me if these Maori dogs do cut. each other’s throats —dog and cat no more. Look here, you’re after JEax and you’ll get no flax on any other terms, mind that. Besides, a few dirty images Why, it’s a godsend, man, to an old covenanter, like yourself. Run ’em down to make -money; that’s useful! Perhaps your last chance to wipe off old scores in the log up aloft'. The heads’ll do to swear at instead of the crew they won’t swear back.”

Stewart still hesitated, chewing meditatively. dWould it tak’ mair nor ten days, d’ye ken?” he asked. - “Nothing like it,” Sheen returned. “Aweel,” said Stewart. “I’m thinkin’ gin the cargo’s safe I’ll dae it. It’s nae guid whilliewaing and. as ye say, the deils are naethin’ to me. Oome your ways till we spier the terms o’ yon ieethie chief.” The newcomer was pretty forward, _at anyrate, for he called out in bad Maori to some natives near us and signified our desire to be taken to Te Rauparaha. His garrulous good humour had entirely left him and, at a jump, he had become the canny Soot. Te Rauparaha sat, waiting for us with gloomy face, at the entrance to his whare, both Rangihaeata and Whiwhi with him. He glanced from Stewart to Sheen as we approached, fixing his eyes on the latter.“Well, pakeha,” he' taunted, “haere ana a manawareka. noho ana a manawakawa.’ Rangihaeata laughed harshly, endorsing .the statement of his chief. “We are willing to come to an agreement with the Rangatira,” answered Sheen pleasantly;. “IJgh!” ejaculated Te Rauparaha. c' Whiwhi turned his back with impatient indifference. "“The pakeha is late in keeping his promises,” Rangihaeata broke in. “The Ingirihi have proverbs,” said Sheen, “one of these says ‘better late than never,’ ” “Does the pakeha mean performance?” asked Te Rauparaha angrily, “or is he cheating the- Maori again? If he is. I’ll- cook his head!” Sheen deliberated. He was about to propose a fresh bargain, with a new condition, and the upshot was uncertain. It was possible, if not probable, that the Maoris would reject it and demand to the last. stiver the utu he had formerly promised. On the other hand Sfheen’s astute intellect; had counted all the chances. He had sounded the depths of Te Rauparaha’s subtle character. Few knew better than he the motives that guide almost all natives in their actions—the historical spite or past wrong, that brooded over, makes yevenge almost part of a man’s right to live, at anyrate his chief claim to power and respect among his fellows. No man was more influenced by these motives than Te Rauparaha. Sheen knew well that he had plotted for years against the mana or Tamaiharanui and, since the death of Te Pehi, had hated the Southern chief with a bitterness that would stop at nothing to compass his destruction. It was on this the Captain calculated and his accuracy ot -judgment was shown in all that followed. With comparatively small experience he had clearly read the Maori mind. “The pakeha will keep his promise,” he said. “At least in part,” he added emphatically. . “In part! shouted the three in chorus: Te Rauparaha’s eyes glowing like live coals. “Ugh!” snarled Rangihaeata. “Te kuri!” muttered Whiwhi. The faces of both the minor chiefs expressed the keenest disappointment and reproach. “In part,” repeated Sheen. “I am

ready, or at least this pakeha is on my behalf, to take you to Akaroa to capture Tamaiharanui.” Here he stopped to see that they were following him. “But,” he continued, “we must have, besides our liberty, a cargo of flax.” Te Rauparaha stamped furiously, his bloodshot eyes blazing, as he plucked swith twitching fingers at the mat that hung from one shoulder. “He harakeke,” he cried, “Flax! There was no mention of flax when the pakeha bargained with me to take him to Waipounamu. I have paid the pakeha fully, in advance, for the use of his waka. He harakeke! Ugh! The Ingirihi claim to be honest, but the pakeha is a liar and a cheat. Even now I do not understand him. There arethe muskets—the muskets, promised for thejdestruction of the Ngaitahu and the Ngatiapa! Where are the muskets?” •

“Rangatiras,” answered Sheen, looking from one angry face to the other, “Chiefs of the great Ngatitoa hapu* ! I came here in my own waka and I made promises and conditions then. I take a long journey and return to find that I have been robbed, if what the Great Chief heard from the whale-catcher be true. I am in the hands of the rangatiras. I do not go back from my bargain. I will pay all the utu I can but the pakeha Tueriti wants utu also for helping me. One cargo of flax will pay him. He has no muskets and I have no muskets, if my waka fails to return.”

“No muskets,” Rangihaeata broke in. “The pakeha should be ripped open and eaten. He treats the Ngatitoa as if they were children.” Stewart, understanding the gist of this speech, showed his appreciation in a loud chuckle. Rangihaeata glared at him contemptuously but did not speak. “Well, Rangatira,” Sheen proceeded, "what is your answer? The pakeha, Tuerti, will do nothing without his utu of he harakeke. The waka is his, not mine and I can do no more. If you kill and eat me, all chance of fulfilling the bargain is gone. I do not care nor do I fear death. If the Rangatira prefers the heads of the pakehas to the blood of his enemies, so be it. He must make the choice, not we.” The chief made an effort to control his passion. He strode up and down, deep in thought, reviewing the issues now at stake. Sheen, with assumed unconcern, waited calmly while his fate and mine hung in the balance. His bravery was unquestioned, amounting almost to a virtue. In many a peril had it stood us in good stead. All through our transactions with the Maoris, when we carried our lives in our hands, his hearing was worthy of a better cause. It was only by satisfying Te Rauparaha’s consuming desire for vengeance on his distant enemy that we could escape with our lives. Three times our safety depended on his word: when we were left behind at his mercy; when we returned from our quest to find our insincerity discovered; and now when Sheen made new proposals, urging his case with surprising tact and audacity. We should have got short shrift at the hands of Rangihaeata* who glared menacingly at Sheen while his fingers clutched nervously at the handle of his mere. “I have no flax on Kapiti’” said Te Rauparaha, at last. Sheen had anitcipated this reply. “But the mainland also belongs to the Great Chief” he urged. “Is it much to pay for the punishment of Tamaiharanui, one cargo of he harakeke and the freedom of two pakehas who have been foully deserted. We know that Te-ika-a-Maui, with Waipounamu added to it, will belong to the Great Chief and the hapu of the'Ngatitoa. What is a cargo of flax. Take our lives and other white men will shun Kapiti; trade will be lost to Te Hauparaha; and Tamaiharanui will laugh at the Ngatitoa from behing the pallisades of Takapuneke.” “Is the murderer of Te Rauparaha’s matua keke** not worth that? Remember Te Pehil” The name acted like a battle cry. Even Rangihaeata forgot his rancour as he murmured, “Te Pehi!” Te Rauparaha’s vacillating manner changed to swift decision. A hurried consultation ensued before Te Rauparaha spoke. “Enough!” he cried; “I will give the flax.”

“That’s settled, Jimmy,” said Sheen, turning quickly to Stewart and speaking in English, “you’ll get your flax after all.” “I ken fine it’ll be weel earned.” returned the Scotsman, with a grin. “Is the brig all ready?” asked Sheen. “The morn’s mernin’ I’ll hae her ready,” answered Stewart. Te Rauparaha, Rangihaeata and Whiwhi were talking in low tones. 4s Stewart finished speaking Te Rauparaha looked questioningly at Sheen, who at once inquired:— “Will to-morrow suit the Rangatira and his taua?”+t

“E pai ana ae apopo,” agreed the Chief. “We will be ready.” “Good!” said Sheen. “We will now go aboard to prepare for the Rangatira and his warriors.” Te Rauparaha shook his head in reply. “Tuerti goes,” he answered, pointedly. “You and the taita mariki pakeha remain behind.” Sheen met tha repulse with a smile. My last chance was gone. I had half hoped we might have got away.

“Why?” Sheen inquired, artlessly. “Does the pakeha forget?” replied Te Rauparaha. “Is his memory hut of a day ? Does he gorget how the big wakas lift their wings and fly across the sea? I will have a surety that this whalecatcher will he here to-morrow.” With a shrug Sheen, reconciling himself to the rebuff, turned to Stewart. “You’d better get aboard, Jimmy,” he said, “and make all shipshape. We’ll have to come off with the natives in the morning.” “Man!” cried Stewart, “there are some gey, fule bodies amang oor fellowcreatures.”

“What the devil do you mean ? ’ queried Sheen. “Yon dour faced Chief,” returned the Scot-, “wha kens nae mair o’ human nature than a sookin’ bairn. Hoot! Nae mair judgment than a cockroach I tell ye, gin he opines I’ll no’ bring hame my flax. Ye’re a kin’ o’ arl-penny, Dan, my man, hit there’s nane needit. I’d dae mair nor ferry them dcun to Akaroa. atween oursel’s, for a guid 1 sellin’ cargo. The fashious loon thocht I’d gang awa’ withoot my flax. Dod, he disna ken a'uld Jimmy,” he concluded, and his whole frame shook with laughter. “May he he mistook you for a soft Englishman,” grinned Sheen. “Hech, man! The puir dementit fule!” observed Stewart in reply. Here Sheen addressed Te Rauparaha and spoke as if he were interpreting the conversation that had just taken place between him and Stewart. “E Rangatira,” he said, “the pakeha will have his waka ready apopo, at midday, or before if the taua is waiting. The chiefs understand?” “E pai ana ae apopo! W© understand,” agreed the three Maoris. Everything satisfactorily settled, Stewart took his leave, going down with 'high jaunty steps to the brig’s jollyboat. Under guard we returned to our whare prison. Te Rauparaha showed by his solicitude how deep was his distrust of Sheen. Directly we were alone, as a forlorn hope, I attacked my companion on the iniquitous traffic in which we were now finally engaged. “You were right, Captain Sheen,” I cried, standing up and facing* him.

“What inhuman monsters sail the seas, ready to he bought, soul and body, by. the highest bidder! Proud of your purchase, I suppose, having secured one to carry out your nefarious trafficking. No doubt that liell-born spirit, bloody murder, and all its attendant horrors, will ride rampant on Stewart’s brig, and of course Captain Sheen will thoroughly enjoy the company. At anyrate, I have spoken my mind on the eve of this atrocious butchery which I would prevent if I could, fearing death less than Ido it. I came in search of treasure, not for wholesale slaughter.” My conscience rose in arms against such iniquity and I rose with it. The Captain listened, smiling at my outburst, and jubilant at my distress. “You’d he a damned mutinous young spark if I gave you rope enough,” he ejaculated quietly, totally avoiding the point at issue. At this my anger and contempt blazed up and for the moment I believed I had broken from his control. ‘‘‘You dissembling fiem},” I cried. “Had I known you at first I’d as soon have put to sea with the devil.” He laughed outright as at a compliment. Then, pulling himself together, he spoke with scowling face. “Do you want the truth P” he growled. “It’s not much use wanting it from you,” I retorted. “Oh, isn’t it?” he said. “Well, you’va got it here! I’m about full up of you.” “Not more than I am of you,” I broke

m» , . “I like men to deal with,” he sneered. “No man would deal with such a monster,” I hissed, spitefully. At that his face hardened and the quarrel ended, like the bursting of a bubble. “Drop that word,” he commanded. I tried to utter it again, a scornful laugh greeting the vain effort. “Drop it because I tell you,” he repeated, “and hear this in mind! None of your damned sentiment and tomfoolery where we are going. You’re my slave, you know—always—my slave!” (To he continued.)