"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
This was one of the sights which he had "come out into the wilderness
for to see"--specially and in spite of its being a tolerably large
and important _hapu_, or section of the great Ngatiawa tribe, with
whom relations were certainly strained. His adventurous soul was
stirred within him, as he marked the position of the _wharepuni_, or
council-hall, imposing in size and ornamentation, elaborate though
rude; the clustering _whares_ or wigwams, each containing the family
unit complete; with men, women, and children, dogs and ponies, straying
about in careless intermixture; the warriors of the tribe holding aloof
in haughty independence, the "grave and reverend seigneurs" sitting in
a circle, indulging in converse--doubtless as to matters of state. It
became increasingly apparent to his mind that the affairs of such a
race deserved all the consideration which the most experienced, just,
and intelligent legislators could bestow.
As they approached, the stranger could observe that a certain degree
of excitement had already commenced to make itself visible. The men
who had been sitting arose, and those who were already standing,
relinquished their attitudes of dignified ease for those of watchful
attention, not unmingled with suspicion. The women left their work or
play (for among the younger ones several games of skill or address were
evidently in progress) and joined the expectant crowd.
Male and female, young and old, there could hardly have been less than
three hundred people gathered together on the comparatively small
plateau. From their point of view it had exceptional advantages, and
had doubtless been selected with foresight and judgment. Overlooking
the river, winding through a fertile meadow, which showed by its
careful and intense cultivation how the principal food-supply of the
tribe was furnished, it was protected by the almost perpendicular
river-bank, of great height, from sudden assault. An undulating stretch
of open or timbered country filled in the foreground, while in the dim
distance rose the giant form of Tongariro, cloud-capped, menacing,
in dread majesty and sublimity, and but a few miles to the eastward,
calm in the fading light, lay the placid waters of a lake. Strangely
beautiful as was the whole landscape, wanting no element which in other
lands excites wonder or arouses admiration, there was yet a feeling
of undefined doubt, amounting to suspicion of evil, as his eye roved
over the unfamiliar scene. This was confirmed, even deepened, as a
geyser between them and the lake suddenly shot to a height of fifty or
sixty feet in the air, while a hitherto unsuspected fumarole sent its
smoke-columns towards the firmament. Yet not a head was turned, not a
movement made by the group, "native and to the manner born." Geysers
and fumaroles were part of their daily life, it would appear.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account