Waitancitang

New Zealand Illustrated Magazine, 1 September 1901, Page 939

Waitancitang

s—4' ■ : ■<■■'■'&<■■■ ,E3v F<ye Yo'pt;|?

Illustrated by Kemiett Watkins,

I pushed through the fern and wIX mauuka I fcll ° sound of voices, |m| and then faint laughter. Voices in this lonely place ? Among leagues of moorland and forest ? A puff of wind carried the sound away. Next moment I was at the brink of tho cliff. A strange place ! There was a broad ledge half way down. I lowered myself on to it, and peered over the sheer rock.

Just above, the Wailcato, swooping secretly between cliffs, enters a round pool, a river chamber. Its walls are clothed with shaggy grass, and fern on fern like the scales of a dragon. The mighty current

pauses a moment, " The blind wave feeling round its rocky walls In silence," but theigreen water swirls and writhes as though in pain. At last it finds escape. Smoothly and powerfully it sweeps into the jaws of the passage below me. How it must be tortured deep down there ! The water boils in whirlpools, in twisting cnrrents, in backward-breaking waves. I saw it heave between its prison walls as though striving to burst them. There was a sudden silence. Again, faint and far, I heard the voices and the distant laughter. They rose from the hollow of the rock underneath me, but it was not the mere babbling of waters. Waikato, waster of men, was it not the spirit of your slain talking. together where they lie,

" Days and nights in the narrow room ?"

I lay long in the dark jthroat of the river pass, and listened to many tales, broken by

the quarrelling waters. I overheard the talk of lovers, and warriors laughing grimly over their last fights.

The time was half an hour before sunset in the early spring:. The dusty gold of the kowhai fringed the cliffs. All the talk of the living world was mauy miles away.

Two hundred years ago the river flowed much as it flows now — more fiercely perhaps; the caves were not worn so deep, and the rocky throat was not so smooth.

Ou the same ledge a man sat crouching, with his eyes dreamily fixed on the water. In those days a young towai clung to the cliff under the shelf, and its leaves shielded him from eyes across the river, though he could see plainly between them. Five graceful stems sprang upright from the clinging roots. He could step on to the branches, and look down between his feet into three fathoms of seething green water

The voices under the cliff talked louder then, and they told many a tale, which they have long forgotten. He sat and listened to them (exactly as I am sitting), a splendid man, with sadness and wild energy lurking in his dark eyes.

He hardly stirred. Only now and then he listened intently, and sometimes his lips moved, as though to interpret what he heard. A fan tail came and flirted close round his head. A black shag paddled slowly up stream, where the water looked black under the opposite rock. He watched it intently as it dived and reappeared, unconscious of him. Suddenly his face changed, and he stared, astonished, at the opposite cliff brow.

The high fern was parted by two dark arras, and a girl stepped through the low manuka to the bank of the precipice. Its lips ourved so suddenly that her foremost foot was already beyond the edge.

She flung herself backwards with a wild cry. He was near enough to see how, in her violent fear, her hands clutched the crisp fern, and her half-uncovered breast panted quick at the closeness of death.

At last she sat up slowly. For the first

time he felt his heart beat faster at sight of a woman's face, beautiful, worn with grief and despair, and wet with tears.

She knelt and bent forward until she could look over to the river, and her rich black hair hung down the face of the rock.

Then she began to wail, and her tears to fall. Now and then her words reached him : " Why did I not fall and die ? Now I am afraid to leap. . . This river is terrible ; it boils as though a taniwha were lying below. . . I cannot! I cannot !" Suddenly her weeping stopped. She rose in a moment and stepped to the edge of the precipice, and covered her face. Then the young man sprang up too, and shouted aloud : " Stop, girl ! What are you doing ? Go back! Go back!" At the sound she snatched her hands from her face, and stared round her, silent with a new fear. Then he stepped out on the branches of the towai, and parted the leaves so that she could see his face and his broad shoulders. So narrow is the gorge that two men can talk across it in low tones. He called to her again : " What would you do, girl ? This is no place for a woman to die. And why do you wish to die ? You are young and beautiful, and there is no sorrow that will not pass." Staring at him in amazement, she answered : " Who are you ? Why do you say I may not die in this place, if I wish ?" Then he said sternly : " Beware of giving offence to those who dwell under these waters. I, who warn you, am a tohunga. I come here to talk with the spirits of the dead, and I command you not to leap from that cliff." But the girl recovered from her fear and said : "It matters not to me. The dead can treat me no w^rse than the living. Your magic cannot stop me, tohunga. I will die here and end it." She closed her eyes as if she would leap again. His heart thrilled, and he shouted fiercely : " Wait ! You may leap, but you shall not die. I tell you, you will be drawn down alive into the black caves, and there you will long for death in vain. Hark ! I hear the voices of the dead. They call to me that Vol. lI.— No. 12.— 04.

no man or woman shall lightly outer their dwelling." He held up his hand, and listened to the sullen ripple of the waters His heart went out to the girl, and also ho was jealous because she talked slightingly of his magic. And so he seemed to hear as his heart, desired. She, across the stream, sank down and began to wail, because she feared to leap. Then he spoke kindly. "Be comforted, maiden. V"our sorrow will pass like the cloud across the sun yonder, or that whirlpool coining down the current. Tell me the story, and I will help you with my wisdom." She looked up, hearing that his voice was soft, find saw through the branches that he was a noble man, so she stopped weeping and said : " Mata is my name. I was a chiefs daughter in the South, but the Ngaiterangi came down and destroyed us, and Tarawhai, their chief, took rue for his slave and made me his wife. But how can a girl love an old man? He is jealous, and when ho finds me weeping for my home and people, he is cruel to me. I can never again bo happy." The tohunga's face grew dark. "Listen," he said, " iWawhai is my enemy also. lam Haroa, and my father was a chief, but Tarawhai treacherously murdered him, and threw his body into the river pool. I was a boy, and I escaped from the house, and ran to a hapu beyond those hills. There I became a lohunga. Now I come down to the place where my father lies, and here I sit and listen to him talking under the stream. The place is very sacred, and no man but myself dares to come here. A taniwha lies in the pool above the gorge, who guards the cave of the dead. When their voices trouble him he turns in the depths of the river and hisses, and the water heaves and the whirlpool passes down through the gorge, and the of the waters drowns their talk." Even as he was speaking, they saw tho surface heave, and the whirlpool wheel past,

and heard the wave hiss in the shadow of the cliff. The girl grew pale. Her knees gave way, and she sank down on the fern, so he called to her : " Mata, do not fear. By my magic I can soothe the monster and the spirits of the dead. Hark, now ! I vow to them that here from this cliff I will throw to them the head of Tarawhai when our day comes." Haroa's heart swelled, and he looked across to the girl and knew that he loved hey, and she looked back at him with fear and wonder. They stayed long, talking acz'oss the murmuring voices and the river before they parted, he to the village in the hills, she to the pa of Tarawhai, and then they met in dreams. When the next evening came she slipped away and crept down to the gorge, wondering if she would find him there. He also had come, asking himself the same question. And though he told her that he had come to work magic, he knew and she knew what magic had drawn him there. So for four days they met and contrived to be happy, though the river flowed between them, and they never pressed each other's hands. Meeting was difficult. For many miles up and down, the Waikato's cliffs are high, and the currents treacherous, and Haroa dared not enter the pa of Tarawhai. However, there are times when the future does not greatly matter. It was on the fifth day that they had met there, and already he had persuaded her to meet him at a distant ford, when Tarawhai broke in upon them. Full of suspicion he lad tracked Mata to the gorge, and there, among the waving fern plumes against the sky, Haroa saw his head appear. The girl heard the bushes break behind her, and her eyes grew large, and her body quivered. Tarawhai seized her roughly by the hair, and stared across the river. But he could see nothing through the leaves of the towai. Then he grasped Mata ; by the shoulders,

and glared so fiercely on her that she hung in his grasp, limp as a cloak of feathers. It seemed to Haroa that he would fling her into the stream. He crouched ready to spring on the towai's branches like a kingfisher, who leans forward on his perch when he sees a fish in the pool below. Yet he dared not show himself for fear that Tarawhai, in his jealous anger, should kill her. The chief turned suddenly, and dragged the girl after him up the slope of the cliff brow. She hung back to catch one more glimpse of her lover, and Tarawhai, looking sharply behind him, saw Haroa leaning from the branches. He cursed him in his anger. The tohunga shook his fist, and shouted fiercely after him : " Tarawhai, beware ! Do not touch the girl. My father has spoken to me, and I tell you that when next we meet by this gorge, I will send your head down to him in the whirlpool !" But as he was speaking the chief strode into the manuka, and was gone. Day after day Haroa watched by the river gorge in vain. The voices talked carelessly, and gave no comfort. At last one stormy evening, lingering in despair and grief, he heard the voice he longed for. It was only for a moment. Scarcely in the gloom could he see Mata's form, but he fancied her eyes shone like stars. A wild cry came out of the darkness, and he called her name. Then she said : " Oh ! Haroa ! I cannot wait. I fear that he is on my track. Keep watch. He is plotting a raid upon yonr hapu, and you and all your people will be slain. Save yourself." Before he could answer she was gone. * * # * * The blow fell swiftly. When the tohunga warned his tribe of the treachery, they listened to him, but he knew they did not believe. What was this wild story of a slave girl ? Their tohunga was bewitched in

the old way, they whispered together and shook their heads.

So no watch was kept, and he himself slept, overcome with weariness and despair, on the very ni^ht of the attack. He wus awakened by the sflave of fire through the walls, and heard the shouts of victory and the shrieks of women. Then panic came on Haroa. Naked and unarmed, he burst out into the darkness, and fled so swiftly down the steep hill behind the pa that few of the enemy saw him. But Tarawhai was one, and he left killing to follow in his rival's track, Haroa's mind was whirling like the river pool. His wisdom was swept away with a flood of wild fear. He knew not where his fefit led him, and he never stopped running over miles of moorland until he saw the dark gorge yawn at his feet, and the stars glint in the swirling current. Then gasping and sobbing he sank down on the ledge. The river began to shine in the grey dawn. The voices and the laughter rose faintly like people mocking him far away, and his reason came slowly back. He heard the voice of Mata across the gorge, and it sounded thin with cold and fear. " Oh, Haroa ! I have watched all night. Is the battle over 9 And have you come to greet me ?" He did not answer, but lowered his head between his knees and wept. The girl called to him again : "Speak, Haroa! What! Did you not take my warning ? Has Tarawhai conquered ? And have you fled from the battle ?" Still he was silent. She began to wail faintly. It seemed to Haroa as if her voice was already mingling with the voices of the dead in the wash of the stream. His heart and body were both as cold as death. Again she called. " Why did I not die before ? Oh ! Haroa ! I thought you were no coward. You looked a noble man. Now I fear death no longer." Silent still, he was gazing at her through his hands in shame and longing, when her

wailing ceased, and she stared, pointing at the bank above him. He looked, and saw Tarawhai towering against the grey sky. He was holding in his hand a famous greenstone more, and he shook it at the lovers and laughed bitterly. At that laugh tho heart of Llaroa took fire and blazed up. Weariness and cold and panic fell from him like? a cloak. He glared round for a weapon, and then tore down a leafy branch of the l.owai, and charged up the bank, holding it before him like a shield. He knew in his heart, that he would conquer. Tarawhai mocked when he saw a naked man rushing on him with no weapon but a leafy bough. lie stood still, and held his club carelessly like a priest preparing to slay a bound slave for a feast. lint llaroa leaped on him as lightly as a bo) . Tarawhai struck once, but, confused by the branch above the other's head, he missed his temple and struck him above tho ear. Blood poured down on to Haroa's left shoulder. Staggering for a moment, he sprang again. Tiie mere laid open his forehead, but thin time he reached Tarawhai's throat. Tho chief dropped his mere and clutched at Haroa's hands. They grappled and fell. Haroa clung to him as the rata clings to the dying tree. Haroa's knee was on his breast; his eyes burned into his like sunbeams. For Haroa had the strength of three, and in his ears ho heard voices shouting victory. At last he rose^and with Tarawhai 's more he hewed off his head. A roaring came in his ears like the roaring of Waikato in flood. The voices grew fainter. Blood dripped on his shoulders, and ran down to his feet. And on the ridge he heard a shout, and saw through a red mist three of Tarawhai's men. He shouted his war cry, and shook the famous mere. Then he turned and strode down to the edge. Mata, trembling, called to him, but he never answered her. He stepped on to the branches of the towai, and chanted these words : —

Taniwha of the pool, This mere I cast to thee ! Spirit of my father Accept my sacrifice, The head of thine enemy ! And receive thy son ! As he finished the whirlpool spun down the current. First he cast into it the mere, green as the river itself, which clove the water almost without a splash. Then he balanced above his shoulder the head of Tarawhai, and thi'ew it in. That whirled once round the swaying hollow and then sank slowly, and as it vanished the hiss of the breaking wave came up from below.

He heard the fighting men crash through the fern behind him, and he called aloud : " Mata ! This is the end ! Come ! I have sacrificed to the taniwha and to those who talk below. Let us leap and go down together into the place of the dead." She rose up silently, and he mustered his last strength. They leaped and fell together. In the midst of the whirling current their hands strained and met, and the two lovers went together down into the place of the talking voices. * * * * * Above the confused quarrelling of the river, I seem to hear their laughter now.