CAPTAIN SHEEN, Adventurer.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXIII, Issue II, 9 July 1904, Page 9

CAPTAIN SHEEN, Adventurer.

CHAPTER XI. Two days later we started in a large canoe across the- strait. It was manned by a Maori crew under the com ma nd of Whiwhi, and seemed a frail craft in which to tempt the dangers of the open sea. Coulished especially was timorous, 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 dejecteu, 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 grew' nearer my mind went back to the dear old mother and the home I had left behind. 1 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 nt 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 bad 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 ished. 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 Waipounamu. I called to mind the Runanga house and the dread with which he then mentioned the lake, and my curiosity reawoke.

“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 nof see it. Few have seen if. We shall hear the murmur of Piopiotahi on the range, and that will be enough. With this let the pakeha be 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 forebodings. “We strike over yon hills, there,” ho said. “It is like having to weather a gale with the port in sight. The 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.”

L Coulished had come close up to us,

BY

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'll end badly and young Joshua here’ll collar the swag.” He pointed to me. A scowl passed over Sheen’s face. “Koi!” 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 mi his heel, he joined the Maoris who were gathering round the fire. “Martin’s scripture,” said Sheen scornfully, “'minds me of a very old saving.” ' “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 hr 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’ nateral like.”

The wit might be poor, but it was in the Captain’s best manner, and 1 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 the water’s edge. The scenery was grand and beautiful. Beholding it, even the sordid soul of Coulished was moved. The lake, which was long and narrow, lay quiet in the hollow of the mighty hills. Peak on peak they rose around it, snowcovered 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 hill< 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 gloved into deep valleys and unscalable precipices by the rough usage of winter torrents and sliding iee. They circled the lake, gaunt and aweinspiring, but with no single touch of softness in their stern magnificence. 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 nigh upon the tussock, tinder the shelter of a clump of birch. This valley, the Maoris told us, was called “The Home of the Weka” after a shy, wingless bird that frequented the locality in great numbers. That night, was still, except for their occasional plaintive call, and before it was over I understood the depressing effect the gloomy scenery exercised upon the minds of our ignorant companions. 1

AN HISTORICAL ROMANCE OF NEW ZEALAND.

CHARLES OWEN.

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, we reached it at nightfall and camped there. Half frozen, and shivering the 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 and 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 tiie titful noise, until suddenly' remembeiing the numerous waterfalls around us, 1 turned to Whiwhi. 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 flickered 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 to drop the subject, as he evidently desired to do, and he immediately sank into a moody silence, huddled as eicse 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 iee. Weighing the matter thus. I fell asleep, and, in spite of the coin, did nol 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 thing streak, of light amidst the shadows. On every side snow-capped peaks arose, glacier after glacier, flashing in the brilliant sunlight. The scene, so different from the homely beauty of an English country-side, took my breath away and oppressed me with its grandSheen 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 a’keended the mountain side. For myself, I stood gazing a long time, lost in wonder and admiration. Then Sheen, rolling up the map once more and hastily swallowing a few mouthfuls of the breakfast we had set aside for him, gave the order to start. Hiring got together our few belongings, we began the long scramble down

the mountain side into the valley. All that day we tramped through wild and broken country. The next morning, about two hours after our start, on reaching the top of a small mountain, we suddenly came in view of the dear familiar sea.

“‘Waipounamu!’cried the Maoris in concert. At last, then, our goal was in

sight. We were standing in a natural gate between two rocks, ami 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. The track led down a steep cliff, and was only wide enough for one man at a time. “Dr Maoris live here?” J asked Whiwhi, who was next to me. Raising his hand he pointed North. “Higher up,” he said, “there arc one or two pahs; none here! This is the haunt of the kiwi*; the bird that haunts at night and is not seen by day: the bird of only one lover ; the faithful one! 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 wreck?” 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 Piopiotahi. and the big river, we passed over in the valley yesterday. Does the pakeha see a mountain yonder that looks as if it stood ill 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 if, though the way is open.” The Captain showed his ill controlled eagerness. “Come on.” lie cried, “we waste time; let 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 grow light-hearted, keeping to Hie pace, and ho even tried to erack u feeble juice with Sheen. Through the remaining hours of the <lav we seldom rested, and by nightfall were almost within reach of the tall tree which Whiwhi pointed out as our landmark. We had pushed along the rocky coast for miles and hail 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 Hoods. Its waters, direct from the ice-tirlds, were freezing cold, ami chilled ns through ami through as we crossed over. We came across some line pieces of greenstone further along the coast, which were eagerly pounced upon by the Maoris, v.ho prize it highly.

Being unable to reach the wreck that night, in spite of all our efforts, we camped in the >lielter of an overhanging rock, and made a big tire of drift - .wood, plenty of which was to be found along this wiki 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 bad left the region of which they had such awe and dread.

“When did the big waka crane ashore?’’ Asked Sheen, seeking for any inlormation he could get about, the wreck. “lhe waka we are going to?’’ he added. As Whivvhi raised himself to speak the light from the lire played on his winkled face. Alone of the party in his savage health and strength the hardships we had undergone had I< it no

mark upon him. “Far back in the generations, pakeha. my people say. The tree has grow n out of its belly since then, and now the tree is old. When a boy. my grandfather saw a woman of thi u ’ isiaml with a yellow wh-.ikapaipai* which was pirxed up here. That was a long while ago, and almost forgotten.’’ The Maori sat silent. About a hundred ami twenty years/ Sheen, calculated aloud. “My ancestors say.’’ continpcd Whiwbi, further pressed, “the big waka came ashore in the days of ’l’on-ranga-tira, the founder of my tribo, and that he himself came down from Kawhia to help eat the crew.” This, then, was the sum and sub-dance el what the Maoris know about the wri ck, as we found out after cross-qv.es-iioiiing them. Like most of their history. it proved unreliable and legendary. Throughout that night we three lay tossin** in feverish expectation, and had there been but a ghost of a moon to guide us. we should have toiled on rather than hear 1 he suspense of waiting. But the longest night has an end. Pay broke cold and g’« < \ : the damp, chilly wind pierced our very marrow; and even the rising sun. hidden behind masses of leaden looking clouds, brought us no warmth. We wire soon away: Sheen grim and stern. Coulished with gleaming rxes, I sick with excitement. On we pressed over the sandy Leach, mounting the obstructing rocks, until at last th< outline of 1 l.e wreck, surmounted by the tree, could b:» plainly distinguished. Here, then, lay the culmination of our hopes. 1 he hmged for object of our eoaich! 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 ;• barren, lonely land: thus, we came al last ami looked upon the [irate wreck. There she lay, fully

50ft above high water mark, on a ledge that at full tide overhung the sea, and through h< r 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 wormed timbers, its growth had displaced, when swayed by the prevailing wind. What was her errand? Where was she built? And from whence bad she drifted to her doom? If the rotting, moss-covered planks could have spoken—w hat a tale! What scenes of bloodshed, murder, ami foul debauchery outcome of inhuman greed, they could unfold. As we stood looking at her, I almost expected to hear the echo of Coulished *s doggerel, discordcntly chanted by a chorus ox brutish, rollicking voices: «

A gen’elmnii o’ fortune I would bo. With drink and blood galore-e-ob; A sailing on the bosom o' the ’earing sea, And sending all the merchantmen io giery-oh. CHAPTER MT. We rlambered up the ledge and stood right under the exposed side of the stranded ship, seeking where to hoard 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, when in front of the howling tempest, rilling the crest of a gigantic wave, she had been left high and dry on the shelving clil’f that was, at once, her shelter and her doom. Sheen just glanced at lhe tree which by a freak of nature seemed a kind of branched mast, and then went on with his inspection of the ship, lie 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.” lie said, and it was the first time I ha<l ever seen him pay Coulished. any deference. “You were reckoned to know your business. Perhaps you can tell me what build she is, her nation, ami her age. “She’s British!” answered Coulished promptly: but it was ail 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 ami a chip there, and scraped away the sand to see what masts she’d carried. At last he looked at Miron ami blinked decisively. “Well?” asked the Captain. “She’s British,” repeated Coulished. “Her age?” question the Captain. “Somewhere about two hundred years,” Coulished said, without liosita- “\\ hat was her trade?” inquired Sheen. Coulished shrugged his shoulders, uttering a 11’. ile hysterical laugh. “ I lunder! *’ he chirruped. “Heigh-ho! a noble calling! A rakish craft, Dau. 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 he fit for a better man,’’

grinned the Captain, patronizingly. "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 one 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 1 only hope he will meet the same fate; by God, 1 do!” "And you think this is the same ship?” I asked, with some incredulity. “'A’hy not?” he said absently, chipping at flie 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. At hat’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, by this time half convinced of its truth.

“If it is,” he repeated excitedly, "andf belief in it’s been my pilot right through we’ll hoist the body, my bully boys. Come then! Let’s make a breach 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 brj'tk through 'at a spot that was uneov- red, elose to the keel on the starboard side. All hands 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 bolts 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 tluv inside were almost sound; the roots and trunk of the tree had .jambed them in places, arid where they had to .be hacked through or wrenched away our light tools broke, unequal to the tax. Al any rate 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, hut 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 sensation li.at came over me in the dark. Besides we were nearly knocked down by the fold stench that met us as we ventured forward. Never till my dying day shall I forget the sickening sensation that come over me in the mouldy charnel-liousc gloom ere 1 sank at Sheen's feet, to find myself, on regaining 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 Hint and lighted the tallow dip he carried. Then finding an iron pike-head and an old. weeviled, caulk-ing-mallet among the heaps of rubbish lying within, with great difficulty we enlarged the aperture sufficiently to niake it safe to proceed. As we advanced, cautiously picking our way by the aid of Sheen's dickering light, the scene of disorder and decay that met onr eyes it would be impossible to describe. Rotten bales of costly merchandise falling to dust, casks once holding srtlt provender devoured by worms, spirit kegs coated with thick slimy fungus and water barrels long since drair.e I by Time's all-swallowing throat; these in heaps, mixed with iron-bound trunks, the wood of which crumbled at onr 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.

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 sqund from Coulishcd arrested our attention. lie 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!” .-lie 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 enjer the forbidden wreck. “Now, Caspar! dig the thin end of

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 is his endeavour to show himself needed and for which he had been rewarded by instant banishment, Sheen and 1 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 delied decay, though the tooth of Time had found the softer parts of the grain on the surface. But at last we elove 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, Coulishcd wept for very joy and rapturously feasting his covetous eyes so far forgot himself as to offer thanks to Almighty Cod that he had been spared to see that sight.

As for Sheen lie was drunk with success, mid losing 'all self-control, swore and laughed by 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 pear’s—once the proud possession of a queen and saved Io be the envy of the world.

Such priceless things lie dangled before our eyes in that foul dismal hole, dimly lighted by a spluttering tallow lr.tr>', while till the time he kept up a running commentary of silly childish drivel. What they had already seen had turned their heads but 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 ofltimes sunken ship. Gobi in bar und coin of various die lay scattered about like so many pebbles.

1 could scarcely believe my own eyes so far did it exceed my wildest expectations; h’tHe wonder then that the miserly Uoulished 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, tin' 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 ail 1 saw in imagination the seizing of this treasure; 1 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 Drought tear* to my eye* «nd a lump into my throat. Faint and s.ck I crept out into the open air. Night wa< sinking down upon the sea, dirk and dismal. A bank of clouds out of the west, bringing a cold and drizzling rain, was coining upon us with the rising wind. There was little *<a running but every now and again came a Millen heave to shoreward*. omen of an approaching storm. The cliff* behind the wreck loomed high above us, threatening our lodgment; the birch creaked mournfully us 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 wre k glowed faint!v, lighted with the tallow Hares. “What do you want, Caspar?** he asked. “We shall have a rough night,” I said, pointing towards the west. llis wild eyes, gleaming with hi* recent triumph, scanned the horizon, *and h's face fell somewhat. Then, turning sharply io W hiwhi. who stood near us. looking out io 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 si nvly, “and tomorrow it will grow worse. There is much storm i'n the sky. We should b? far from here.’* The monotonous night cry of the wckas from the cliff broke in drearily on the silence that followed. "Listen.’* suid the native, “the weka speaks.’’ it’s a devilish bad prosper!,” admitted the Captain and we're not too well provisioned either. We can ent ile in th? old hulk here, high and dry. of coin.**, but as for food, why a day or two will put us on ”.hort commons in everything bat water, which promises to be plentiful enougji. To-morrow we must »hift and if Whiwhi’s u safe prophet there’ll be. little to laugh at in the moving.” Coulishcd now appeared at the opening; the poor fool had strung a diamond necklace, about h : s neck and cut a tiiliciiloiis figure. as he stood blinking his sunken eyes at the weather. The incongruity of the glittering ornaments, in contrast wi’Ci his w zzened, skinny throat, struck us all of a heap, and »ve laughed aloud. It was like adorning a "A hell of a skv,” he ejaculated and

disappeared within to gloat over the t reasure. Thus all were agreed. The darkness <ame suddenly and almost unheralded, and we huddled, the whole eight of U£, ini » the wreck, making room as best we could. We blocked the ent ranee, leaving only a hole big enough to let in fresh air. Luckily we had enough lights mid that night, bad as it was. proved fur better than the two which followed. Tin* wind changed and increased io a. gale, shrieking up from the South by nine o’clock, bringing with it a torrent 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. Oiiwe I ventured to crawl to the opening and look out upon the storm. In the pitch darkness it was not possible to sec anything. The wind, blowing with terrific force, and the roar of the sea. were deafening. High above the shrieking florin rose the plaintive cry of a distressed and driven seabird, like that of a soul in anguish. Surely never sinva tin* Hood bad there been such a cold, pitiless, unceasing deluge. I wa* glad to get back into the comparative peace and quietness of our shelter, ('oulished. and I alone were wakeful, the rest, fitfully sleeping. With me ii was mostly excitement, but with him it was abject* fear, a delirium engendered by our good tortune which had proved 100 much for him, following close upon the unusual hardships Jit* had lately undergone. I n equal to I he strain, his slight frame had broken down ami there were signs of derangement. The morning brought no change in the weather, nor indeed did we expect that, it. would. So. without further hesitation, wo proceeded to put into execution the plans we had decided upon over night, ’rhe jewels were to be divided between us three while men and to be concealed as far as possible from the Maoris, who had no idea of the value attaching to tin* wreck. None of the treasure was to bo 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. It was very hard to leave unlifted the heap of gold wp had come so ?ai* to find mid which was ours for the taking, ( oulished grieved even to shed-

4ing tears that hr could not carry the aniall portion he had secretly stowed his clothing. Sheen said it would be handy to sink him with when he pitched him into the sea, as lie swore he would unless he emptied his pockets. Indeed it galled me to think of 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. We 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, lhe salt spray drenched us as wo clambered down. From the bottom 1 looked back at the ledge and its storm-torn birch. It was undermined on the seaward side and each successive nwuntainoiis wave was eating it more away. “Some day, in one of the*c fearful storms, she’ll topple over into the sea,” 1 exclaimed. Sheen started at the words. “Uy 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?” 1 inquired. “Then we would have hoisted the whole swag and be damned to her,” ho said. “It nigh breaks my heart to think of v.hat xve’re leaving yonder. My respects Io ’em, the traitorous hounds! 1 only hope they’re out in the teeth of this, a mutiny aboard, and Morgan hanging at the yard-arm!” “You would have had to divide it with the whole crew,” I suggested. “What if I had?” ‘The thing you’ve always been against.” “Because 1 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 mile ngain-t that terrific wind, the rain had < ut our facts like hailstones. Where before we had the open beach, we had now Io clamber over masses of rock, brought down from the cliffs, the great sea breaking landward, cox ering our 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 Mixed, hi our calculations there bad been no thought of encountering such awful weather. It was a dismal tramp; the Maoris silent ami depressed, Sheen getting more ill -trm peered as our difficulties increased, and ('oulished’s halts became more frequent ami prolonged, fie. kept up with me as ch.: <• as possible, but I had to call Sheen hick to help me with him over Piopiotahi, which, even on that x\ide 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 xve reached the further liver, x\lay between ns and the narioxv path by xxhicli we had descended, 't he .Maoris gave a cry. and as J looked upon Ilie ru-hing flood my Inert sank to my boots. From the south the cohl And driving rain continued, and here we wore, prisoners on the barren mast—food less. tireless—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 Lis I n ath, “we'll never get over this.” Gmilidied clung diivciiiig to my arm. “Our la>t hour has come,” he gasped xx it h chattering teeth. “Stow your gib. will you. you snivelling cur’.'” growled the Captain, who had been seeking an object for the rage that xvas consuming him—a rage born less of anger than despair. Then, addre«-ing Whiwhi: “Is that the only track by which xxe " -i rcltf. u?” he asked. For .» moment tile Maori stood wrappud in thought. His gloomy face disheartened us. After some hesitation a lock of forced decision came over it. “ I he only track for us to travel,” ho ansxxered. “But perhaps the pakelm in bis ignorance may think that the Lake of Spirits is better than certain death. W e will turn bark, and I will lead you up Piopiotahi to Waipounamu. Death and »li>a dcr may bo there, but xxo cannot live hire without food, and in this wind and 1 ain. So we turned, the Jmu full in our f.ic. . . and retraced our steps to Piopiotalii. We could not rm-s it again; it had risen rapidly, and was now impassable. Once niorr night was approaching, with no sign of abatement in the storm. It Kh*d settled down into a Muddier rain than ever. We camped at the ♦ ulrancc ui the

shadowy gorge, buddling together al! the night for the sake of warmth, after quite a good meal for ns, as the Maoris had caught a kiwi and two xvekas, 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 faro, except Coulished, who only* took a mouthful. What with the roaring torrent and Cotilishod’s groans, 1 slept badly', and was right glad to see the morning break. It brought a slight improvement in the weather. Coulished, haggard and dreadful looking, death written on his pallid features, moved with difficulty. “What alxnit Coulished, Captain?” I asked, “lie’s not lit 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?’’! asked. “A day’s journey! We shall be at the Lake of Greenstone to-night, it might be better to die,” he added enigmatically. (’oiilished, 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, in appealing tones, “you’ve brought me to my death! ” "Brought you to your death.’’ sneei'ed She<n. “You’ve come of your own free xx ill. following me like my oxvu shadow, because you were too suspicious to let me out of your sight. Brought you indeed, you ugly' bag <»f bones! I didn’t bring you! Noxv you're here, act like a man ami make a light for your life. Get up. [ say. or I leave you behind! Tin* whole party’s not going* to hang back for the sake of you.” Rising painfully to his feet as xve started, Coulished drexx' sloxvly up to me. I cannot picture the xvretched condition xve xvere 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 unknoxvn danger. Ami xve 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 foisted on unrivalled gold, a ransom for a king. This we had sought and toiled for, over many a mile, through long .and xvrary days. And just as truly xvas Coulished nearbig the gate of d.> •.« !>. however far Sheen and 1 had to jutiiu y. Laboriously xve made the painful ascent of the gloomy gorge toxvards Waipounaniu. the lake of mystery, the place that Whiwhi. brave man though he was, regarded with so much trepidation. Little v.under that I traversed the Piopiotahi xvith despairing, heavy' steps, and x\ it h a heart oppressed with hopelessness. (To be Continued )