"War to the Knife;" or, Tangata MaoriBoldrewood, Rolf
General
"War to the Knife;" or, Tangata Maori
Boldrewood, Rolf
Māori (New Zealand people) -- Fiction; New Zealand -- Fiction
"Do not doubt for an instant!" exclaimed Massinger, touched to the
heart by the girl's saddened look, and realizing the justice of her
complaint. "_You_ were never born for such a life. Nature has gifted
you with the qualities which women have longed for in all ages. Your
day will come--a day of appreciation, fortune, happiness. Who can doubt
it that looks on you, that knows you as I do?"
In despite of her boding fears and the melancholy which so often
depressed her, she was not proof against this confident prediction.
Her youth's hey-day and nature's joyous anticipation protested alike
against a passing despondency.
"It may be as you say. Let me hope so. Do not the bright sun, the
blue sky, the dancing waves, all speak of happiness? And yet, and
yet----But here comes your schooner, rounding the point. Our time of
friendship is over. I wonder when we shall meet again?"
"When indeed?" thought her companion. But, determined in his heart that
this should not be his last interview with this fascinating creature,
so subtly compounded of the classic beauties of the wood-nymph and the
refinements of modern culture, he answered confidently--
"Before the year is out, surely. This war, if so it may be called,
must only be a matter of months, perhaps weeks. The tribes, after a
skirmish or two, can never be mad enough to defy the power of England.
I must make a Christmas visit to Hokianga, if indeed we do not meet in
Auckland before the spring is over, at the ratification of peace. There
are sure to be festivities to celebrate the event, and you must dance
with me at the Government House ball."
"Without shoes and stockings?" she said laughingly--"though I dare say
I could manage them and the other articles. But we must not deceive
ourselves. Months, even years, may not see the end of the war. May we
both be living then, and may _you_ be happy, whatever may be the fate
of poor Erena!"
* * * * *
That trim little craft, the _Pippi_, tight and seaworthy, was anchored
near the wharf when they returned. Certain cargo, chiefly kauri gum
and potatoes, had to be taken in, and the passengers were informed
that towards sundown her voyage would be resumed. No time was lost,
therefore, after lunch in sending their luggage on board, strictly
limited as it had been to the requirements of the march. Warwick, who
as paymaster had been giving gratuities to the native attendants who
had come on from Rotorua, reported that they were more than satisfied,
and would not forget the liberality of the pakeha. They would take the
chance of returning to their _hapu_, where they had first been met
with.
"It is as well to leave friends behind us," he said. "There will be all
kinds of bush-fighting for volunteers such as you and I may be, and
native allies often give warning when white ones would be useless. They
may counteract that scoundrel Ngarara, who will do us a bad turn yet if
he can."
"By the way, what became of him at Rotorua?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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