"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
The dawn light awoke Massinger, who, since his arrival in New Zealand,
had cultivated the virtuous habit of early rising, considering it to be
one of the necessary attributes of a hardy colonist. Like others who
have been educated by circumstances to the practice, he found so many
advantages accruing from it, that he resolved to continue it. Hence,
though a sufficient sleeper in the early watches of the night, he began
to be automatically awakened at daybreak.
A glance around revealed the unfamiliar circumstances of his
environment. Of the various groups which had constituted the village
community on the previous night, by far the greater number were silent,
or slumbering in the _whares_. An occasional figure raising itself from
the recumbent position showed that he was not the only wakeful one in
the _kainga_. Half-forgotten tales of Indian warfare, recurred to his
memory, where the hero, desiring to escape from captivity, looks upon
much the same scene as that which lay before him. He could not but
feel that he and Warwick were entirely at the mercy of the warriors
who composed the greater part of the _hapu_ there assembled. The turn
of a straw, in the electrical condition of the political atmosphere,
might lead to bloodshed, involving a declaration of war. The first
reverse would doubtless throw the Maori people into such a state of
wrath and exasperation, that, even against the policy of their chiefs,
irresponsible members of the tribe might be tempted to sacrifice
isolated parties of the invading race.
The prospect of a journey by unknown paths through a trackless
wilderness, with however fair a goal, did not look so alluring as when
associated overnight with the witchery of Erena Mannering's eyes and
wonderfully expressive countenance, which hardly needed the translation
of her thoughts into words.
However, the die was cast. He had given his sanction to the affair; and
Roland Massinger was not the man under such circumstances to go back an
inch from his word. Before dressing for the day, he took advantage of
the proximity of the river for a bath, a preliminary step which, when
circumstances permitted, he never omitted. While descending the slope
which led to the river bank, he was joined by Warwick, who came leaping
along the steep descent like a mountain deer. Arrayed in a pyjama suit
only, which indicated the symmetry of his magnificent figure, his
employer could not avoid admiration at his grand and striking presence.
Taller by several inches than himself, his muscular development was
exceptionally fine, while his activity, as evidenced by the constancy
of his pace, and the ease with which he mounted and descended the most
precipitous hills, clearing the smaller running streams with hardly an
apparent effort, was truly abnormal.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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