"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
He raided his weaker neighbours; he descended upon defenceless coast
settlements; he organized carefully thought-out plans of invasion,
alliance, or reprisal. He was comprehensively merciless in war, slaying
and enslaving at will. But he possessed, by the strongest contemporary
evidence, the corresponding virtues. He was brave to recklessness,
chivalrous to a degree unknown in modern warfare, sending notice of
attack, in ordinary cases, before the commencement of hostilities; and,
in well-authenticated instances, even forwarding ammunition to the
enemy who had run short of powder, invariably choosing death before
dishonour. And he was religious after his own fashion, recognizing
superior as well as inferior deities and supernatural personages, whom
it was important to honour and conciliate. He was at all times ready to
die for his principles, or in vindication of his dignity and hereditary
position.
Roland Massinger, when he found himself in full possession of the
_whare_, which had been floored with clean fern, and even adorned with
several bunches of the beautiful crimson rata and pohutukawa blossoms,
began to revolve the strange chain of circumstances which had led to
his finding himself the honoured guest of this sub-section of a more
or less ferocious tribe. Nothing imaginable could be more romantic;
at the same time, the situation was, at the best, only comparatively
satisfactory. The smouldering blood-feud between the races, already
dangerously fanned by the mistaken action already referred to, might
blaze up at any moment. Then, the war-spirit once aroused, and the
boding scream of the _Hokioi_ thrilling all hearts, the position of an
isolated European would be doubtful, if not desperate.
Of the risks and chances thus involved, however, our adventurer made
but little account. He had not come so far to abstain from exploration
of this wonderful country. It was not worse than Africa, whence many an
Englishman had returned rich and distinguished. Whatever happened, he
was embarked in the enterprise; would go through with it at all hazards.
With the addition of a small contribution from his store of provisions
to the _kumera_, pork and potatoes, together with a great dish of
_peppis_, or cockles, supplied in clean flat baskets, he made a
satisfactory meal, concluding, of course, with a pannikin of tea. He
had arranged his rug and blankets at one side of his rude chamber, and,
being reasonably tired with the day's journey, looked forward to a
night's rest of a superior description.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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