The Wide World Magazine, Vol. 22, No. 127, October to March, 1909Various
History
The Wide World Magazine, Vol. 22, No. 127, October to March, 1909
Various
Adventure stories -- Periodicals; English periodicals; History, Modern -- 20th century -- Periodicals; Voyages and travels -- Periodicals
Taurau was dragged from Parema's throat. Yet, ere they could slay him,
the Ngatahi were borne back by the rush of the enraged Ngatitoa. A
comrade thrust his forgotten weapons in Taurau's hand, and he leapt
into the fray.
Then there rose on the still night air a confused clamour of shrieks,
yells, the clash of weapons, and screams for mercy. Kokako raged in the
midst. Taurau's "mere" (battle-club) drank its fill of blood. "Slay,
slay! Let not one escape," was the cry. The gates of the stockade were
closed, preventing egress, and the work of death went on, whilst the
sobbing women clung together, shuddering, in their quarters. A party of
the Ngatitoa had meanwhile sallied forth to fall upon the sleeping camp
beyond the walls. It was done. Through a broken gateway some twenty
of the Ngatahi broke from that riot of blood and death to struggle,
fighting, to the shore. Launching one of the canoes, battered, broken,
and wounded, with scarce ten men at the paddles, they made their
limping way across the bay. Of the Ngatitoa, some fifty had been slain.
* * * * *
It was dawn. The first rays of the sun lit the dark waters. High on the
rock-shelf sat Taurau and Heruini. Behind them lay the mouth of the
dark cavern, before them the precipice. He had been on watch since the
midnight hour, and his love came to him with the morning.
Night and day had the sentinels looked across the bay from the lofty
cliff. Six months had passed since the deed was done, yet had Ngatahi
made no sign. Nevertheless, Ngatitoa knew that they would surely come
to seek "utu" (vengeance) for the slaying. So, in the dawning, Heruini
listened to the "korero-tara" (love-talk) of her lover.
Suddenly, with a cry of "Ai, Ngatahi, Ngatahi!" she pointed across the
sea. Far away under the distant headland appeared a dark blot upon the
face of the waters. As they gazed, the blot became a line of little
dots, that grew as they came.
Taurau sprang up. Shouting, "E tana, e tana!" (the foe, the foe), he
raced down the narrow path.
At once the sleeping "pah" stirred to preparation. The outlying folk
were gathered within the walls, and Ngatitoa sat grimly down to await
the enemy.
[Illustration: "THE CANOES ADVANCED IN LINE--A THOUSAND PADDLES,
STRIKING AS ONE, BEATING THE WATER TO FOAM."]
In twenty great canoes, each carrying a hundred men, they came. Parema
had, with promises of slaves and plunder, enlisted the tribes of the
Hakerau to his cause.
Who shall tell the fury of that oncoming? The canoes advanced in
line--a thousand paddles, striking as one, beating the water to foam.
The rowers, straining every muscle, panted on their stroke. The
grinning figure-heads hissed through the foam of their coming, and
in the centre of each canoe, aloft on a platform, stood a chief who
chanted his "waiata" (war song), swaying his body as he beat time with
his spear above his head.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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