RATA.

Otago Witness, Issue 2785, 31 July 1907, Page 77

RATA.

Br MtT.ES LONGTBEE.

Rata. was a half-cast Maori, and as impulsive as a savage. She was also extremely unsophisticated, but this was due wholly to environment. All her life she bad lived in the back-blocks, where the settler's clearing was to the bush land as the currant is to tfhe workhouse pudding. Her father, old M'Phereon, had gleaned some wisdom from the Native tribe - from whom he-had selected a wife, and laboured only sufficient 'for the day's need —io more, no less,—leaving the future, -with its anxieties, to a far-seeing Providence. Consequently,. Rata had been trained to secure all the leisure and enjoyment obtainable out of life, leaving tile rest, with all its charming influences, to another school of philosophy. M'Pheraon and iris wahine spent the greater portion of the day comfortably seated on -the front steps of their shanty smoking black tobacco with sleepy-eyed gratification. Rata, however, improved the "wasted" hours by wandering through the thick bush wEioh mantled the surrounding hills ajid learning from Nature's open book. From her mother she frad inherited the Maori poetic temperament, and with the aid of a slender education she composed delightful verses in a strain of glorified pantheism. These she set to music, as ■wild as the song which the wind sings in the pine tops, but as sweet as the babble of the mountain stream in the dim hush of the fern glade. The happiest portion of her day was the hour before sunset, which she spent perched on. the ihighest point of the hill overlooking the clearing, singing a loud and melodious paeam. to the Sun God as he sank ia. a tolaze of crimson and gold to his rest. Below her the .green, cool waters of the Taiui ran in tortuous course through the bush-clad gorge. Further along the country opened out, and the river, tinged with sunset tints, flowed straight to meet the foaming, tossing bar before it finally merged into the rollers of the long Pacific swell. There was. a time when Taiui Mouth knew only the low thunder of the surf and the sweet, faint echo of Rata's voice. Then someone discovered^ it was a beauty spot ripe to be given over to the profanity of the holiday-maker, and it forthwith became a "resort." A profit-seeking vandal ran an evil-smelling petrol launch . down the river daily during the season,, aid the gay trippers munched sandwiches in the bush, an-d strewed beer bottles around and about. The calm surface of the river that had remained unruffled through the ages, except, perhaps, by an occasional Maori canoe, was now lasEed and churned by skiffs and motor Boats. The solemn sanctuary of the gorge echoed with joaree shouts of the music hall ditties of the day. But for one short hour it was respected — the hour that preceded sunset. Them all was silent exoept for the pure, exalting paean from the mountain top, swelling one moment, and lifting the soul of all things to tihe fulness of life; falling the next to a eoftDess that whispered of the mysteries of the Eternal Silence. Rata's evensong was one of the "features" of the mouth. People crowded the river to listen to- it. Some of the curious tried to discover the personality of the singer, but Rata knew the bush too well to lie -diseov-eried- Latterly these atriempfcs were abandon^ and the voice was attributed to the _"k£>irit of the Mountain" by the visiting town poet. __ Rata was now at that'time of life when tlie wine of existence is very sweet and intoxicating. Her form was graceful and slender, her limbs round and smooth. Full, luscious lips, tawny eyes, and black, curling hair made her face unusually attractive. Her voice thrilled with the fulness and passion of th# song-bird in early spring, and her eyes glowed with an ecstatic expectancy. Rage and disgust had filled her heart at the advent of the sacrilegious pakeha, but these feelings were gradually replaced by a sense of satisfaction that her talents were receiving the attention and appreciation which aH wom^n love. She sang presently, not to the Sun Gcd. but to the- assembled boaters. Doep down, but barely acknowledged, was the hope that some day e>he would sirog to o>te alone. The thought made her tremble, but it was irresistibly sweet. "' At length the season ended, and the river flowed onward in the chaste and barmon'ous silence of the hills. No upturned faces in rapt fascination now met her eves as sl-e hushed the Sun God! to sleep. But one evening a small white motor boat with a gold-figured bow shot round the bend and anchored below 'her. Her keen eyes easily descried the occupant. He was tall and athletic looking, his face was cleanshaven and strong and manly, and his attitude whilst elje sang one of attentive interest. . . Stan Forbes had come to seek the ' Spirit of the Mountain," and had allowed himself three weeks to make her acquaintance. He had a heart for an adventure and eager eyes for a pretty maid, and his quest .was certainly not lacking in romance. When Rata's 6ong ceased he stood "up, and for a moment kept has head uncovered. "There's a bird up there," he said, as his boat clattered down stream, "who must be as lovely as Her voice is sweet. She is perched on the topmost bough to-day; to-morrow perhaps sine may hop a trine lower down." The next evening her song was palpably closer. A day lateT it was closer stall; the evening following it rang out from a point halfway down the mountain. Stan Forbes beached his boat and stealtlhily worked his way upwards. In that paradise of stately tree-fern, clinging clematis, and trailing convolvolus the old, old drama of life with all its tragedies and blending of comedy had commenced. It was hide-and-seek, coy advance and blushing retreat, delirious joy and choking pain —but it ended in the old way. In a week's time Stan held the fluttering songstress in his

arms, and heard her poor little heart, beating wildly like that of a captive bird. For the following fortnight the Sun God heard his lullaby in fitful snatches. Below his high altar a white boat veered* with the stream, and the ripples danced and sang in its bright reflection. 1 Then came the end. Upon the strip of : g re y sand two figures stole in the deepening twilight out of the fragrant bush. Ferns and clematis were twined in Rata's haiT, but in her eyes there was no gladness, but a feverish sorrow that would not be relieved with tears. She clung to Forbes with passionate abandon. "Stay!" her voice sobbed. "What is the world and thy work to thee? Do I not suffice? Have you any happiness beyond me?" "None," he replied 1 !; "I will not know happiness till I hold yon- in my arms again and feel the blood tingle at the sound of your - voice. Be comforted.; in a little s -while I will return " j "And you will not forget your Rata?" I "Never !" he cried emphatically. "Can't i you trust me?" She nestled closer, and timidly looked up at "him with her parched, grief-stricken eyes. "Yes, I will trust you. A litt'e while, just a little while, and you will bold me in* your arms again, and I shall sing to you — new songs that are echoing in my heart now. Yes, I shall sing, and the thunder of the surf will come soft to our ears and blend- with my song. And we will watch the Sun God together sinking into his bed of crimson and gold, and the sunlight tunning the tossing waters of the bar into a sea of fire. Then the wing* of night will be drawn across those dazzling glories, and as the stars peep out one by one you will say again, ' Rata, I love you, and I will not forget.' " Forbes's reply was as sharp and indistinct as an echo — "I will not forget !" Rata waited. Autumn went by ; winter passed, and spring came and whispered to the perishing and hopeless of promises that were to be fulfilled. But to Rata's heart it, brought no gladness. All was winter with her now. The fountains of joy were froasn ; the songs she had sung were but as sad and haunting memories. Her step 'had lost its spring and lightness and her lips their luscious redness. The Sun God's votary was silent. ■ At- length it was summer. Back like a tide rushed the holiday-seekers. There was tumult on the river, and -blatant songs and merry laughter rang in the ■ goTge. Surely now he would come. She watched eagerly from the mountain peak from daylight to dark. Out of the deepening shadows at last she saw his white boat come. Breathless she waited, ready to burst into song as soon, as it anchored below her. But it flashed past like a ghost — like a ghost that was timid and ashamed. ■ "He will come to-morrow," she said brokenly. All the next day she watched his boat careering round the wide water at the river mouth, but at nightfall it had not com© to seek her at the foot of tihe mountain. "To-morrow," she whispered fiercely, "I ■will go to the mouth and see why he does not come." The long smooth beach was deserted when Rata left her leafy covert and stole towards the small white bungalow nestled in the sand hills. Out of the open window was wafted a strong bass voice, singing a melting love ditty, and the tinkle of a. piano playing an accompaniment. She parted the coarse grass which hid her from view, and looked. It was Stan Forbes, and the girl at the piano, pale and fragile as the convolvolus bloom, was beautiCul and richly attired. Rata's sight grew hazy, and her heart scarcely beat. The song ended and the girl rose, and she saw him catch her to his breast and kiss her as though he were drawing her soul through her lips. It was a peculiar cry, half rage, half sob, that brought Stan to the window, and made his sweetheart cling to him with alarm. " Wha,fc was that, Stan?" she asked. "I don't know, Mabel," he replied; " perhaps a seagull flying overhead. Anyway, I'll close the window." They sat down together, and for a time neither tpoke. Presently some of their party entered, and they made gay over a game of euchre. "You're very glum, Forbes, to-night." Mabel's uncle complained. " Aren't you 1 well ?" "I'm in great form," Stan replied. As he spoke he heard a soft wailing voice steal .through the doorway that seemed to come over the beach from the water's edge. Forbes recognised it, and he shuddered perceptibly. " What a weird sound," hazarded somebody in an effort to break the painful silence that followed. "Go and find out where it comes from, fetan. You're not i playing." Forbes rose. " I won't be more than five minutes," he said, smiling. He dosed the door behind him, and walked in the direction where his dingey was beached. " It*6 that half-cast girl, Rata, I'm sure!" lie soliloquised. " What little ccame is she up to now? I must be careful, or else there will be trouble." She was seated in the stern sheets, her eyes turned towards the bar. roaring and seething in the freshenine breeze. The thunder of the surf filled the air with its sullen boom, and the breakers hissed as they broke over the sand. From out of ! the darkness came the cry of a seabird heraldine the storm. " I heard you call, Rata," Forbes said softly, standing before her, " and I have come. But your voice sounds sweeter , from the mountain top, and it is there , that I wished to meet my Rata again. | Look at me, Rata. Are you not pleased I to see me?" I She did not move, but gazed steadily seaward. "I grew weary waiting for you," she said. Her words seemed to convey a menace more than a reproach. Stan winced. The next moment he had leaped into the boat and was holding her hand.

[ " I am here now, Rata, So* 'let iis 'be happy. Come," he continued recklessly, i "let us cross the Tiyer and fpr an hour at least know the old joy, again. See, the stars- are shining as they shone last I summer; my arms are longing to hold you, and where are the new songs you were to prepare for me!" Rata. laughed, low and joylessly, but she picked up the sculls and seated herself in the thwarts. * "Yes," she whispered, "let us be happy." Her face looked drawn and wan. in the starlight. With a few deft pulls they were spinning down the stream. A "fierce gust [ lashed the river into foam-flecked waves, and the spray blew over the stern. Rata laughed • again, a jarring, triumphant laugh that made Forbes's heart sink; " Where are you going?" he shouted, j starting up and pulling the rudder about, j " Not down, but across. Can't you see how strong the current i&V' ' ■ i She did not appear to hear his words, but she rested on her sculls, and the current caught the dingey a'ncj swept it .with slow, stately turns .down, stream. " The bar is calling ,to us," she exclaimed ■ wearily, "and we must obey." . "Give me the oars-, yoa 1001-J" yelled Forbes, reaching forward* "If we > turn the sand spit we are lost." ~He was'looking right into Rata's face, • and •he saw something there that made him 'sink into his seat with despair. " '" "So that's your little game," he exclaimed hoarsely. The wind blew with greater force, and he saw the dark line j of the sand spit perilously close on his right. The boat was tossing about like a cork, and the roar of the boiling surge stunned him into silence. There was only one hope left. He must swim for it and leave Rata to her fate. " You have brought us to death, Ra.ta," he cried, his voice rising about the moan of the wind and the turmoil of the breakers, " and I will go first. Goodbye." He took off his coat and boots and leaped over the side. When he rose to the surface he found her in the water too. She threw her arms about his neck and drew his face towards biers. " No, not death," she cried passionately — " not death, but love — life ! Rata is with you, and nothing can part us now." In the little white bungalow "by the6andhills someone commented upon the time that Stanley Forbes was away. The pale girl with the beautiful face rose uneasily from her 6eat, and going out on to the verandah listened to the panting of the storm and anxiously looked seaward.