Chapter Thirty Seven.A Perilous Descent.The heat was terrible, and it seemed to Don as if the difficulties met with in their outward journey had been intensified on their return. Thorns caught in their garments, and, failing these, in their flesh. Twice over Jem stepped a little too much off the faint track, and had narrow escapes of plunging into pools of hot mud, whose presence was marked by films of strange green vegetation.Then they mistook their way, and after struggling along some distance they came out suddenly on a portion of the mountain side, where to continue their course meant that they must clamber up, descend a sheer precipice of at least a hundred feet by hanging on to the vine-like growths and ferns, or return.They stopped and stared at each other in dismay.“Know where we went wrong, Mas’ Don?” said Jem.“No; do you?”“Not I, my lad. Think it must ha’ been where I had that last slip into the black hasty pudding.”“What shall we do, Jem? If we go back we shall lose an hour.”“Yes! Quite that; and ’tarn’t no good to climb up here. I could do it; but it’s waste o’ time.”“Could we get down here?”“Oh, yes,” said Jem drily; “we could get down easy enough; only the thing is, how should we be when we did get down?”“You mean we should fall to the bottom?”“Well, you see, Mas’ Don,” said Jem, rubbing one ear as he peered down; “it wouldn’t be a clean fall, ’cause we should scrittle and scruttle from bush to bush, and ketch here and snatch there. We should go right down to the bottom, sure enough, but we might be broke by the time we got there.”“Jem, Jem, don’t talk like that!” cried Don angrily. “Do you think it possible to go down?”“Well, Mas’ Don, I think the best way down would be with our old crane and the windlass tackle.”“Do you dare climb down?”“Ye-es, I think so, Mas’ Don; only arn’t there no other way?”“Not if we want to save them down at the village.”“Well, but do we want to save ’em, Mas’ Don? They’re all werry well, but—”“And have been very kind to us, Jem. We must warn them of danger.”“But, lookye here, Mas’ Don, s’pose it arn’t danger. Pretty pair o’ Bristol noodles we shall look, lying down at the bottom here, with all our legs and arms broke for nothing at all.”Don stood gazing at his companion, full of perplexity.“Think it is real danger, Mas’ Don?”“I’m afraid so. You heard Tomati say that there were desperate fights sometimes.”“Don’t call him Tomati; I ’ates it,” growled Jem. “Well, I s’pose it is danger, then.”“And we must look the matter in the face, Jem. If we go back those people will be at the village before us. Perhaps we shall meet them, and be made prisoners; but if we go on here, we shall save an hour, perhaps two. Yes, I shall climb down.”“No, no; let me go first, Mas’ Don.”“Why?”“Because I shall do to tumble on if you do let go, or any bush breaks.”“Here seems to be about the best place, Jem,” said Don, without heeding his companion’s last remark; and, setting his teeth, he lowered himself down, holding on by the bushes and aerial roots of the various tough, stunted pieces of vegetation, which clung to the decomposing volcanic rock.Jem’s face puckered up as he set his teeth, and watched Don descend a few feet. Then, stooping over, he said cheerily,—“That’s the way, Mas’ Don; take it cool, stick tight, and never think about the bottom. Are you getting on all right?”“Yes.”“That’s your sort. I’m coming now.”Jem began to whistle as he lowered himself over the edge of the precipice, a few feet to Don’s right; and directly after he began to sing merrily,—“‘There was a man in Bristol city,Fol de rol de riddle-lol-de-ri.And that’s the first o’ this here ditty,Fol de rol de-riddle-lol-de-ri.’“Say, Mas’ Don, ’tarn’t so bad, after all.”“It’s terrible, Jem!” panted Don, “Can we do it?”“Can we do it? Ha, ha, ha!” cried Jem. “Can we do it? Hark at him! We’re just the boys as can do it. Why, it arn’t half so bad as being up on the main-top gallant yard.“‘Fol de rol de-riddle-lol-de-ri.’”“Don’t make that noise, Jem, pray.”“Why not, my lad? That’s your sort; try all the roots before you trust ’em. I’m getting on splen—”Rush!“Jem!”“All right, Mas’ Don! Only slipped ten foot of an easy bit to save tumbles.”“It isn’t true. I was looking at you, and I saw that root you were holding come out of the rock.”“Did you, Mas’ Don? Oh, I thought I did that o’ purpose,” came from below.“Where are you?”“Sitting straddling on a big bit o’ bush.”“Where? I can’t see you.”“Here, all right. ’Tarn’t ten foot, it’s about five and twenty—“‘De-riddle-lol-de-ri.’”“Jem, we must climb back. It is too risky.”“No, we mustn’t, Mas’ Don; and it arn’t a bit too risky. Come along, and I’ll wait for you.”Don hesitated for a minute, and then continued his descent, which seemed to grow more perilous each moment.“Say, Mas’ Don,” cried Jem cheerily, “what a chance for them birds. Couldn’t they dig their bills into us now!”“Don’t talk so, Jem. I can’t answer you.”“Must talk, my lad. Them fern things is as rotten as mud. Don’t you hold on by them. Steady! Steady!”“Yes. Slipped a little.”“Well, then, don’t slip a little. What’s your hands for?“‘There was a man in Bristol city,Fol de rol de—’”“Say, Mas’ Don, think there’s any monkeys here?”“No, no.”“’Cause how one o’ they would scramble down this precipit. Rather pricky, arn’t it?”“Yes; don’t talk so.”“All right!“‘De-riddle-liddle-lol.’“I’m getting on first rate now, Mas’ Don—I say.”“Yes!”“No press-gang waiting for us down at the bottom here, Mas’ Don?”“Can you manage it, Jem?”“Can I manage it? Why, in course I can. How are you getting on?”Don did not reply, but drew a long breath, as he slowly descended the perilous natural ladder, which seemed interminable.They were now going down pretty close together, and nearly on a level, presence and example giving to each nerve and endurance to perform the task.“Steady, dear lad, steady!” cried Jem suddenly, as there was a sharp crack and a slip.“Piece I was resting on gave way,” said Don hoarsely, as he hung at the full length of his arms, vainly trying to get a resting-place for his feet.Jem grasped the position in an instant, but remained perfectly cool.“Don’t kick, Mas’ Don.”“But I can’t hang here long, Jem.”“Nobody wants you to, my lad. Wait a minute, and I’ll be under you, and set you right.“‘There was a man in Bristol city,’”he sang cheerily, as he struggled sidewise. “‘Fol de—’ I say, Mas’ Don, he was a clever one, but I believe this here would ha’ bothered him. It’s hold on by your eyelids one minute, and wish you was a fly next.”“Jem.”“Hullo, lad?”“If I let go and dropped, how far should I fall?”“’Bout two foot ten,” said Jem, after a glance below them at the sheer precipice.“Then I had better drop.”“If you do you will knock me to the bottom, so just you hold on till I tells you.”Jem kept up his jocular way of speaking; but if any one could have looked on, he would have seen that his face was curiously mottled with sallow, while his hands were trembling when at liberty, and that there was a curiously wild, set look in his eyes.“There, Mas’ Don,” he said cheerily, as he finished climbing sidewise till he was exactly beneath. “Now, one moment. That’s it.”As he spoke he drew himself up a little, taking fast hold of the stem of a bush, and of a projecting stone, while he found foot-hold in a wide crevice.“Now then, rest your foot on my shoulders. There you are. That’s the way. Two heads is better than one.”“Can you bear my weight, Jem?”“Can I bear your weight? Why? You may stand there for a week. Now just you rest your wristies a bit, and then go on climbing down, just as if I warn’t here.”The minute before Don had felt that he could bear the strain no longer. Now the despairing sensation which came over him had gone, his heart felt lighter as he stood on Jem’s shoulders, and sought another hold for his hands lower down. The wild, fluttering pulsation ceased, and he grew composed.“I’m rested now, Jem,” said Don.“Of course you are, my lad. Well, then, now you can climb down aside me. ’Tarn’t so much farther to the bottom.”“Can you reach out far enough for me to come between you and the rock?”“Just you try, Mas’ Don.”By this time Don had found a fresh hold for his feet; and nerving himself, he descended slowly, Jem forcing himself out, so that there was enough room for any one to pass; but as Don cleared him, and got right below, the bush to which Jem clung with one hand came slowly out of the interstices of the stones, and but for the exercise of a large amount of muscular power and rigidity of will, he would have swung round and fallen headlong.“I’m all right now, Jem!” cried Don from below.“Glad of it, my lad,” muttered Jem, “because I arn’t.”“Come along down now.”“How, Mas’ Don?” said Jem grimly.“The same way as I did.”“Oh! All right; but the bush I held on by is gone.”“Well take hold of another.”“Just you get from under me, Mas’ Don.”“Why? What do you mean?”“I’m too heavy to ketch like a cricket ball. That’s all, my lad.”“Oh, Jem, don’t say you are in danger.”“Not I, my lad, if you don’t want me to; but it is awk’ard. Stand clear,” he shouted. “I’m coming down. No, I arn’t,” he said directly after, as he made a tremendous effort to reach a tough stem below, failed, and then dropped and caught it, and swung first by one hand and then by two.“I say, Mas’ Don, I thought I was gone.”“You made my heart seem to jump into my mouth.”“Did I, lad? Well, it was awk’ard. I was scared lest I should knock you off. Felt just as I did when the chain broke, and you could see the link opening, and a big sugar-hogshead threatening to come down. All right now, my lad. Let’s get on down. Think we’re birds’ nesting, Mas’ Don, and it’ll be all right.”Don had to nerve himself once more, and they steadily lowered themselves from tuft to tuft, and from stone to stone, with more confidence, till they were about thirty feet from the foot, when farther progress became impossible, for, in place of being perpendicular, the cliff face sloped inward for some distance before becoming perpendicular once more.“Well, I do call that stoopid,” said Jem, as he stared helplessly at Don. “What are we going to do now?”“I don’t know, Jem. If we had a bit of rope we could easily descend.”“And if we’d got wings, Mas’ Don, we might fly.”“We must climb back, Jem, as— Look here, would these trees bear us?”“Not likely,” said Jem, staring hard at a couple of young kauri pines, which grew up at the foot of the precipice, and whose fine pointed tops were within a few feet of where they clung.“But if we could reach them and get fast hold, they would bend and let us down.”“They’d let us down,” said Jem drily; “but I don’t know ’bout bending.”Don clung to the face of the rock, hesitating, and wondering whether by any possibility they could get down another way, and finding that it was absolutely hopeless, he made up his mind to act.“It is next to impossible to climb up, Jem,” he said.“Yes, Mas’ Don.”“And we can’t get down.”“No, Mas’ Don. We shall have to live here for a bit, only I don’t know how we’re going to eat and sleep.”“Jem.”“Yes, Mas’ Don.”“I’m going to jump into that tree.”“No, Mas’ Don, you mustn’t risk it.”“And if it breaks—”“Never mind about the tree breaking. What I don’t like is, s’pose you break.”“I shall go first, and you can try afterwards.”“No, no, Mas’ Don; let me try first.”Don paid no heed to his words, but turned himself completely round, so that he held on, with his back to the stony wall, and his heels upon a couple of rough projections, in so perilous a position that Jem looked on aghast, afraid now to speak. In front of Don, about nine feet away, and the top level with his feet, was the tree of which he had spoken.As far as support was concerned, it was about as reasonable to trust to a tall fishing-rod; but it appeared to be the only chance, and Don hesitated no longer than was necessary to calculate his chances.“Don’t do it, Mas’ Don. It’s impossible, and like chucking yourself away. Let’s climb up again; it’s the only chance; and if we can’t get to the village in time, why, it arn’t our fault. No, my lad, don’t!”As the last words left his lips, Don stood perfectly upright, balancing himself for a few moments, and then, almost as if he were going to dive into the water, he extended his hands and sprang outward into space.Jem Wimble uttered a low groan.
The heat was terrible, and it seemed to Don as if the difficulties met with in their outward journey had been intensified on their return. Thorns caught in their garments, and, failing these, in their flesh. Twice over Jem stepped a little too much off the faint track, and had narrow escapes of plunging into pools of hot mud, whose presence was marked by films of strange green vegetation.
Then they mistook their way, and after struggling along some distance they came out suddenly on a portion of the mountain side, where to continue their course meant that they must clamber up, descend a sheer precipice of at least a hundred feet by hanging on to the vine-like growths and ferns, or return.
They stopped and stared at each other in dismay.
“Know where we went wrong, Mas’ Don?” said Jem.
“No; do you?”
“Not I, my lad. Think it must ha’ been where I had that last slip into the black hasty pudding.”
“What shall we do, Jem? If we go back we shall lose an hour.”
“Yes! Quite that; and ’tarn’t no good to climb up here. I could do it; but it’s waste o’ time.”
“Could we get down here?”
“Oh, yes,” said Jem drily; “we could get down easy enough; only the thing is, how should we be when we did get down?”
“You mean we should fall to the bottom?”
“Well, you see, Mas’ Don,” said Jem, rubbing one ear as he peered down; “it wouldn’t be a clean fall, ’cause we should scrittle and scruttle from bush to bush, and ketch here and snatch there. We should go right down to the bottom, sure enough, but we might be broke by the time we got there.”
“Jem, Jem, don’t talk like that!” cried Don angrily. “Do you think it possible to go down?”
“Well, Mas’ Don, I think the best way down would be with our old crane and the windlass tackle.”
“Do you dare climb down?”
“Ye-es, I think so, Mas’ Don; only arn’t there no other way?”
“Not if we want to save them down at the village.”
“Well, but do we want to save ’em, Mas’ Don? They’re all werry well, but—”
“And have been very kind to us, Jem. We must warn them of danger.”
“But, lookye here, Mas’ Don, s’pose it arn’t danger. Pretty pair o’ Bristol noodles we shall look, lying down at the bottom here, with all our legs and arms broke for nothing at all.”
Don stood gazing at his companion, full of perplexity.
“Think it is real danger, Mas’ Don?”
“I’m afraid so. You heard Tomati say that there were desperate fights sometimes.”
“Don’t call him Tomati; I ’ates it,” growled Jem. “Well, I s’pose it is danger, then.”
“And we must look the matter in the face, Jem. If we go back those people will be at the village before us. Perhaps we shall meet them, and be made prisoners; but if we go on here, we shall save an hour, perhaps two. Yes, I shall climb down.”
“No, no; let me go first, Mas’ Don.”
“Why?”
“Because I shall do to tumble on if you do let go, or any bush breaks.”
“Here seems to be about the best place, Jem,” said Don, without heeding his companion’s last remark; and, setting his teeth, he lowered himself down, holding on by the bushes and aerial roots of the various tough, stunted pieces of vegetation, which clung to the decomposing volcanic rock.
Jem’s face puckered up as he set his teeth, and watched Don descend a few feet. Then, stooping over, he said cheerily,—
“That’s the way, Mas’ Don; take it cool, stick tight, and never think about the bottom. Are you getting on all right?”
“Yes.”
“That’s your sort. I’m coming now.”
Jem began to whistle as he lowered himself over the edge of the precipice, a few feet to Don’s right; and directly after he began to sing merrily,—
“‘There was a man in Bristol city,Fol de rol de riddle-lol-de-ri.And that’s the first o’ this here ditty,Fol de rol de-riddle-lol-de-ri.’
“‘There was a man in Bristol city,Fol de rol de riddle-lol-de-ri.And that’s the first o’ this here ditty,Fol de rol de-riddle-lol-de-ri.’
“Say, Mas’ Don, ’tarn’t so bad, after all.”
“It’s terrible, Jem!” panted Don, “Can we do it?”
“Can we do it? Ha, ha, ha!” cried Jem. “Can we do it? Hark at him! We’re just the boys as can do it. Why, it arn’t half so bad as being up on the main-top gallant yard.
“‘Fol de rol de-riddle-lol-de-ri.’”
“‘Fol de rol de-riddle-lol-de-ri.’”
“Don’t make that noise, Jem, pray.”
“Why not, my lad? That’s your sort; try all the roots before you trust ’em. I’m getting on splen—”
Rush!
“Jem!”
“All right, Mas’ Don! Only slipped ten foot of an easy bit to save tumbles.”
“It isn’t true. I was looking at you, and I saw that root you were holding come out of the rock.”
“Did you, Mas’ Don? Oh, I thought I did that o’ purpose,” came from below.
“Where are you?”
“Sitting straddling on a big bit o’ bush.”
“Where? I can’t see you.”
“Here, all right. ’Tarn’t ten foot, it’s about five and twenty—
“‘De-riddle-lol-de-ri.’”
“‘De-riddle-lol-de-ri.’”
“Jem, we must climb back. It is too risky.”
“No, we mustn’t, Mas’ Don; and it arn’t a bit too risky. Come along, and I’ll wait for you.”
Don hesitated for a minute, and then continued his descent, which seemed to grow more perilous each moment.
“Say, Mas’ Don,” cried Jem cheerily, “what a chance for them birds. Couldn’t they dig their bills into us now!”
“Don’t talk so, Jem. I can’t answer you.”
“Must talk, my lad. Them fern things is as rotten as mud. Don’t you hold on by them. Steady! Steady!”
“Yes. Slipped a little.”
“Well, then, don’t slip a little. What’s your hands for?
“‘There was a man in Bristol city,Fol de rol de—’”
“‘There was a man in Bristol city,Fol de rol de—’”
“Say, Mas’ Don, think there’s any monkeys here?”
“No, no.”
“’Cause how one o’ they would scramble down this precipit. Rather pricky, arn’t it?”
“Yes; don’t talk so.”
“All right!
“‘De-riddle-liddle-lol.’
“‘De-riddle-liddle-lol.’
“I’m getting on first rate now, Mas’ Don—I say.”
“Yes!”
“No press-gang waiting for us down at the bottom here, Mas’ Don?”
“Can you manage it, Jem?”
“Can I manage it? Why, in course I can. How are you getting on?”
Don did not reply, but drew a long breath, as he slowly descended the perilous natural ladder, which seemed interminable.
They were now going down pretty close together, and nearly on a level, presence and example giving to each nerve and endurance to perform the task.
“Steady, dear lad, steady!” cried Jem suddenly, as there was a sharp crack and a slip.
“Piece I was resting on gave way,” said Don hoarsely, as he hung at the full length of his arms, vainly trying to get a resting-place for his feet.
Jem grasped the position in an instant, but remained perfectly cool.
“Don’t kick, Mas’ Don.”
“But I can’t hang here long, Jem.”
“Nobody wants you to, my lad. Wait a minute, and I’ll be under you, and set you right.
“‘There was a man in Bristol city,’”
“‘There was a man in Bristol city,’”
he sang cheerily, as he struggled sidewise. “‘Fol de—’ I say, Mas’ Don, he was a clever one, but I believe this here would ha’ bothered him. It’s hold on by your eyelids one minute, and wish you was a fly next.”
“Jem.”
“Hullo, lad?”
“If I let go and dropped, how far should I fall?”
“’Bout two foot ten,” said Jem, after a glance below them at the sheer precipice.
“Then I had better drop.”
“If you do you will knock me to the bottom, so just you hold on till I tells you.”
Jem kept up his jocular way of speaking; but if any one could have looked on, he would have seen that his face was curiously mottled with sallow, while his hands were trembling when at liberty, and that there was a curiously wild, set look in his eyes.
“There, Mas’ Don,” he said cheerily, as he finished climbing sidewise till he was exactly beneath. “Now, one moment. That’s it.”
As he spoke he drew himself up a little, taking fast hold of the stem of a bush, and of a projecting stone, while he found foot-hold in a wide crevice.
“Now then, rest your foot on my shoulders. There you are. That’s the way. Two heads is better than one.”
“Can you bear my weight, Jem?”
“Can I bear your weight? Why? You may stand there for a week. Now just you rest your wristies a bit, and then go on climbing down, just as if I warn’t here.”
The minute before Don had felt that he could bear the strain no longer. Now the despairing sensation which came over him had gone, his heart felt lighter as he stood on Jem’s shoulders, and sought another hold for his hands lower down. The wild, fluttering pulsation ceased, and he grew composed.
“I’m rested now, Jem,” said Don.
“Of course you are, my lad. Well, then, now you can climb down aside me. ’Tarn’t so much farther to the bottom.”
“Can you reach out far enough for me to come between you and the rock?”
“Just you try, Mas’ Don.”
By this time Don had found a fresh hold for his feet; and nerving himself, he descended slowly, Jem forcing himself out, so that there was enough room for any one to pass; but as Don cleared him, and got right below, the bush to which Jem clung with one hand came slowly out of the interstices of the stones, and but for the exercise of a large amount of muscular power and rigidity of will, he would have swung round and fallen headlong.
“I’m all right now, Jem!” cried Don from below.
“Glad of it, my lad,” muttered Jem, “because I arn’t.”
“Come along down now.”
“How, Mas’ Don?” said Jem grimly.
“The same way as I did.”
“Oh! All right; but the bush I held on by is gone.”
“Well take hold of another.”
“Just you get from under me, Mas’ Don.”
“Why? What do you mean?”
“I’m too heavy to ketch like a cricket ball. That’s all, my lad.”
“Oh, Jem, don’t say you are in danger.”
“Not I, my lad, if you don’t want me to; but it is awk’ard. Stand clear,” he shouted. “I’m coming down. No, I arn’t,” he said directly after, as he made a tremendous effort to reach a tough stem below, failed, and then dropped and caught it, and swung first by one hand and then by two.
“I say, Mas’ Don, I thought I was gone.”
“You made my heart seem to jump into my mouth.”
“Did I, lad? Well, it was awk’ard. I was scared lest I should knock you off. Felt just as I did when the chain broke, and you could see the link opening, and a big sugar-hogshead threatening to come down. All right now, my lad. Let’s get on down. Think we’re birds’ nesting, Mas’ Don, and it’ll be all right.”
Don had to nerve himself once more, and they steadily lowered themselves from tuft to tuft, and from stone to stone, with more confidence, till they were about thirty feet from the foot, when farther progress became impossible, for, in place of being perpendicular, the cliff face sloped inward for some distance before becoming perpendicular once more.
“Well, I do call that stoopid,” said Jem, as he stared helplessly at Don. “What are we going to do now?”
“I don’t know, Jem. If we had a bit of rope we could easily descend.”
“And if we’d got wings, Mas’ Don, we might fly.”
“We must climb back, Jem, as— Look here, would these trees bear us?”
“Not likely,” said Jem, staring hard at a couple of young kauri pines, which grew up at the foot of the precipice, and whose fine pointed tops were within a few feet of where they clung.
“But if we could reach them and get fast hold, they would bend and let us down.”
“They’d let us down,” said Jem drily; “but I don’t know ’bout bending.”
Don clung to the face of the rock, hesitating, and wondering whether by any possibility they could get down another way, and finding that it was absolutely hopeless, he made up his mind to act.
“It is next to impossible to climb up, Jem,” he said.
“Yes, Mas’ Don.”
“And we can’t get down.”
“No, Mas’ Don. We shall have to live here for a bit, only I don’t know how we’re going to eat and sleep.”
“Jem.”
“Yes, Mas’ Don.”
“I’m going to jump into that tree.”
“No, Mas’ Don, you mustn’t risk it.”
“And if it breaks—”
“Never mind about the tree breaking. What I don’t like is, s’pose you break.”
“I shall go first, and you can try afterwards.”
“No, no, Mas’ Don; let me try first.”
Don paid no heed to his words, but turned himself completely round, so that he held on, with his back to the stony wall, and his heels upon a couple of rough projections, in so perilous a position that Jem looked on aghast, afraid now to speak. In front of Don, about nine feet away, and the top level with his feet, was the tree of which he had spoken.
As far as support was concerned, it was about as reasonable to trust to a tall fishing-rod; but it appeared to be the only chance, and Don hesitated no longer than was necessary to calculate his chances.
“Don’t do it, Mas’ Don. It’s impossible, and like chucking yourself away. Let’s climb up again; it’s the only chance; and if we can’t get to the village in time, why, it arn’t our fault. No, my lad, don’t!”
As the last words left his lips, Don stood perfectly upright, balancing himself for a few moments, and then, almost as if he were going to dive into the water, he extended his hands and sprang outward into space.
Jem Wimble uttered a low groan.
Chapter Thirty Eight.Don’s Report.In the case of a leap like that made by Don, there was no suspense for the looker on, for the whole affair seemed to be momentary. Jem saw him pass through the air and disappear in the mass of greenery with a loud rushing sound, which continued for a few moments, and then all was still.“He’s killed; he’s killed!” groaned Jem to himself; “and my Sally will say it was all my fault.”He listened eagerly.“Mas’ Don!” he shouted.“Hullo, Jem! I say, would you drop if you were me?”“Drop? Then you arn’t killed?”“No, not yet. Would you drop?”“I don’t know what you mean.”“I’m hanging on to the end of that young tree, and it keeps going up and down like a spring, and it won’t go any nearer than about twelve feet from the ground. Would you drop?”Whish!Rush!Crash!Thud!The young tree sprang up again, cleaving a way for itself through the thick growth, and standing nearly erect once more, ragged and sadly deprived of its elegant proportions, just as a dull sound announced Don’s arrival onterra firma.“All right, Jem!” he cried. “Not hurt. Look here; spread your arms out well and catch tight round the tree as you jump at it. You’ll slip down some distance and scratch yourself, but you can’t hurt much.”“I hear, Mas’ Don,” said Jem, drawing a long breath full of relief. “I’m a-coming. It’s like taking physic,” he added to himself; “but the sooner you takes it, the sooner it’s down. Here goes! Say, Mas’ Don, do you ketch hold o’ the tree with your hands, or your arms and legs?”“All of them. Aim straight at the stem, and leap out boldly.”“Oh, yes,” grumbled Jem; “it’s all very well, but I was never ’prenticed to this sort o’ fun.—Below!”“A good bold jump, Jem. I’m out of the way.”“Below then,” said Jem again.“Yes, jump away. Quick!”But Jem did not jump. He distrusted the ability of the tree to bear his weight.“Why don’t you jump?”“’Cause it seems like breaking my neck, which is white, to save those of them people in the village, which is black, Mas’ Don.”“But you will not break your neck if you are careful.”“Oh, yes! I’ll be careful, Mas’ Don; don’t you be ’fraid of that.”“Well, come along. You’re not nervous, are you, Jem?”“Yes, Mas’ Don, reg’lar scared; but, below, once more. Here goes! Don’t tell my Sally I was afraid if I do get broke.”Possibly Jem would have hesitated longer, but the stump of the bush upon which he stood gave such plain intimation of coming out by the roots, that he thought it better to leap than fall, and gathering himself up, he plunged right into the second kauri pine, and went headlong down with a tremendous crash.For he had been right in his doubts. The pine was not so able to bear his weight as its fellow had been to carry Don. He caught it tightly, and the tree bent right down, carrying him nearly to the earth, where he would have done well to have let go; but he clung to it fast, and the tree sprang up again, bent once more, and broke short off, Jem falling at least twenty feet into the bushes below.“Hurt, Jem?” cried Don, forcing his way to his side.“Hurt? Now is it likely, Mas’ Don? Hurt? No. I feel just like a babby that’s been lifted gently down and laid on a feather cushion. That’s ’bout how I feel. Oh, dear! Oh, dear! Here, give’s a hand. Gently, dear lad; I’m like a skin full o’ broken bones. Help me out o’ this tangle, and let’s see how much of me’s good, and how much ’ll have to be throwed away. Eggs and bacon! What a state I’m in!”Don helped him as tenderly as he could out into an open space, and softly assisted him to lie down, which Jem did, groaning, and was perfectly still for a few moments flat there on his back.“Are you in much pain, Jem?” said Don, anxiously.“Horrid, lad, horrid. I think you’d better go on and warn ’em, and come and fetch me arterwards; only don’t forget where I am, and not find me. Look! There’s two o’ them birds coming to see what’s the matter.”“I can’t leave you, Jem. You’re of more consequence to me than all the New Zealanders in the place.”“Am I, Mas’ Don? Come, that’s kindly spoke of you. But bother that tree! Might ha’ behaved as well to me as t’other did to you.”“Where do you feel in pain, Jem?”“Where? It’s one big solid slapping pain all over me, but it’s worst where there’s a big thorn stuck in my arm.”“Let me see.”“No; wait a bit. I don’t mean to be left alone out here if I can help it. Now, Mas’ Don, you lift that there left leg, and see if it’s broke.”Don raised it tenderly, and replaced it gently.“I don’t think it’s broken, Jem.”“Arn’t it? Well, it feels like it. P’r’aps it’s t’other one. Try.”Don raised and replaced Jem’s right leg.“That isn’t broken either, Jem.”“P’r’aps they’re only crushed. Try my arms, my lad.”These were tried in turn, and laid down.“No, Jem.”“Seems stoopid,” said Jem. “I thought I was broke all over. It must be my back, and when a man’s back’s broke, he feels it all over. Here, lend us a hand, my lad; and I’ll try and walk. Soon see whether a man’s back’s broke.”Don offered his arm, and Jem, after a good deal of grunting and groaning, rose to his feet, gave himself a wrench, and then stamped with first one leg and then with the other.“Why, I seems all right, Mas’ Don,” he said, eagerly.“Yes, Jem.”“Think it’s my ribs? I’ve heared say that a man don’t always know when his ribs is broke.”“Do you feel as if they were, Jem?”“Oh, yes; just exactly. All down one side, and up the other.”“Could you manage to walk as far as the village? I don’t like to leave you.”“Oh, yes; I think I can walk. Anyhow I’m going to try. I say, if you hear me squeak or crack anywhere, you’ll stop me, won’t you?”“Of course.”“Come on then, and let’s get there. Oh, crumpets! What a pain.”“Lean on me.”“No; I’m going to lean on myself,” said Jem, stoutly. “I’m pretty sure I arn’t broke, Mas’ Don; but feel just as if I was cracked all over like an old pot, and that’s werry bad, you know, arn’t it? Now then, which way is it?”“This way, Jem, to the right of the mountain.”“Ah, I suppose you’re right, Mas’ Don. I say, I can walk.”“Does it hurt you very much?”“Oh, yes; it hurts me horrid. But I say, Mas’ Don, there arn’t many chaps in Bristol as could have failed down like that without breaking theirselves, is there?”“I think it’s wonderful, Jem.”“That’s what I think, Mas’ Don, and I’m as proud of it as can be. Here, step out, sir; works is beginning to go better every minute. Tidy stiff; but, I say, Mas’ Don, I don’t believe I’m even cracked.”“I am glad, Jem,” cried Don. “I felt a little while ago as if I would rather it had been me.”“Did you, though, Mas’ Don? Well, that’s kind of you, that it is. I do like that. Come along. Don’t you be afraid. I can walk as fast as you can. Never fear! Think we shall be in time?”“I don’t know, Jem. I was in such trouble about you that I had almost forgotten the people at the village.”“So had I. Pain always makes me forget everything, ’speshly toothache. Why, that’s the right way,” he cried, as they turned the corner of a steep bluff.“Yes, and in a quarter of an hour we can be there; that is, if you can walk fast?”“I can walk fast, my lad: look. But what’s quarter of a hour? I got muddled enough over the bells board ship—three bells, and four bells, and the rest of it; but out here there don’t seem to be no time at all. Wonder how near those fellows are as we see. I am glad I arn’t broke.”In about the time Don had said, they came to the path leading to the ravine, where the cave pierced the mountain side. A few minutes later they were by the hot bath spring, and directly after, to Don’s great delight, they came upon Tomati.“I was coming to look for you two,” he said. “You had better not go far from thewhare. Two of the tribes have turned savage, and are talking about war.”Don interrupted him, and told him what they had seen.“So soon!” he said hurriedly.“Is it bad news, then?” asked Don, anxiously.“Bad, my lads! Bad as it can be.”“Then that was a war-party we saw?”“Yes; come on.”He then put his hands to his mouth and uttered a wildly savage yell, whose effect was instantaneous. It was answered in all directions, and followed by a shrieking and wailing chorus from the women and children, who came trooping out of their huts, laden with household treasures, and hurrying up one particular path at the back of the village, one which neither Don nor Jem had intruded upon, from the belief that it led to some temple or place connected with the Maoris’ religion.A few minutes before the men were idling about, lying on the black sand, sleeping, or eating and drinking in the most careless, indolent way. Now all were in a state of the wildest excitement, and as Don saw the great stalwart fellows come running here and there, armed with spear and stone axe, he felt that he had misjudged them, and thought that they looked like so many grand bronze figures, suddenly come to life. Their faces and nearly naked bodies were made hideous with tattooing marks; but their skins shone and the muscles stood out, and as they all grouped together under the orders of Tomati and Ngati, both Don and Jem thought that if the party they had seen were coming on to the attack, the fighting might be desperate after all.In less time than it takes to tell, men had been sent out as scouts; and pending their return, Tomati led the way up the path, after the women and children, to where, to Don’s astonishment, there was a strong blockaded enclosure, orpah, made by binding great stakes together at the tops, after they had been driven into the ground.There was but one entrance to the enclosure, which was on the summit of a rock with exceedingly steep sides, save where the path zigzagged to the top; and here every one was soon busy trying to strengthen the place, the spears of the men being laid against the stockade.“May as well help,” said Jem, sturdily. “I’m not going to fight, but I don’t mind helping them to take care of themselves.”They set to and aided in every way they could, Ngati smiling approval, patting Don on the back, and then hurrying away to return with two spears, which he handed to the two young men.“My pakeha!” he said; and Jem gave an angry stamp, and was about to refuse to take the weapon, when there was a yell of excitement from all in thepah, for one of the scouts came running in, and as he came nearer, it could be seen that he was bleeding from a wound in the shoulder, and that he had lost his spear.As if nerved by this sight, Don and Jem seized the spears offered for their defence.“Yes, Mas’ Don,” said Jem; “we shall have to try and fight; seems to me as if the war’s begun!”A wild shriek followed his words, and Don saw that they were but too true.
In the case of a leap like that made by Don, there was no suspense for the looker on, for the whole affair seemed to be momentary. Jem saw him pass through the air and disappear in the mass of greenery with a loud rushing sound, which continued for a few moments, and then all was still.
“He’s killed; he’s killed!” groaned Jem to himself; “and my Sally will say it was all my fault.”
He listened eagerly.
“Mas’ Don!” he shouted.
“Hullo, Jem! I say, would you drop if you were me?”
“Drop? Then you arn’t killed?”
“No, not yet. Would you drop?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“I’m hanging on to the end of that young tree, and it keeps going up and down like a spring, and it won’t go any nearer than about twelve feet from the ground. Would you drop?”
Whish!Rush!Crash!Thud!
The young tree sprang up again, cleaving a way for itself through the thick growth, and standing nearly erect once more, ragged and sadly deprived of its elegant proportions, just as a dull sound announced Don’s arrival onterra firma.
“All right, Jem!” he cried. “Not hurt. Look here; spread your arms out well and catch tight round the tree as you jump at it. You’ll slip down some distance and scratch yourself, but you can’t hurt much.”
“I hear, Mas’ Don,” said Jem, drawing a long breath full of relief. “I’m a-coming. It’s like taking physic,” he added to himself; “but the sooner you takes it, the sooner it’s down. Here goes! Say, Mas’ Don, do you ketch hold o’ the tree with your hands, or your arms and legs?”
“All of them. Aim straight at the stem, and leap out boldly.”
“Oh, yes,” grumbled Jem; “it’s all very well, but I was never ’prenticed to this sort o’ fun.—Below!”
“A good bold jump, Jem. I’m out of the way.”
“Below then,” said Jem again.
“Yes, jump away. Quick!”
But Jem did not jump. He distrusted the ability of the tree to bear his weight.
“Why don’t you jump?”
“’Cause it seems like breaking my neck, which is white, to save those of them people in the village, which is black, Mas’ Don.”
“But you will not break your neck if you are careful.”
“Oh, yes! I’ll be careful, Mas’ Don; don’t you be ’fraid of that.”
“Well, come along. You’re not nervous, are you, Jem?”
“Yes, Mas’ Don, reg’lar scared; but, below, once more. Here goes! Don’t tell my Sally I was afraid if I do get broke.”
Possibly Jem would have hesitated longer, but the stump of the bush upon which he stood gave such plain intimation of coming out by the roots, that he thought it better to leap than fall, and gathering himself up, he plunged right into the second kauri pine, and went headlong down with a tremendous crash.
For he had been right in his doubts. The pine was not so able to bear his weight as its fellow had been to carry Don. He caught it tightly, and the tree bent right down, carrying him nearly to the earth, where he would have done well to have let go; but he clung to it fast, and the tree sprang up again, bent once more, and broke short off, Jem falling at least twenty feet into the bushes below.
“Hurt, Jem?” cried Don, forcing his way to his side.
“Hurt? Now is it likely, Mas’ Don? Hurt? No. I feel just like a babby that’s been lifted gently down and laid on a feather cushion. That’s ’bout how I feel. Oh, dear! Oh, dear! Here, give’s a hand. Gently, dear lad; I’m like a skin full o’ broken bones. Help me out o’ this tangle, and let’s see how much of me’s good, and how much ’ll have to be throwed away. Eggs and bacon! What a state I’m in!”
Don helped him as tenderly as he could out into an open space, and softly assisted him to lie down, which Jem did, groaning, and was perfectly still for a few moments flat there on his back.
“Are you in much pain, Jem?” said Don, anxiously.
“Horrid, lad, horrid. I think you’d better go on and warn ’em, and come and fetch me arterwards; only don’t forget where I am, and not find me. Look! There’s two o’ them birds coming to see what’s the matter.”
“I can’t leave you, Jem. You’re of more consequence to me than all the New Zealanders in the place.”
“Am I, Mas’ Don? Come, that’s kindly spoke of you. But bother that tree! Might ha’ behaved as well to me as t’other did to you.”
“Where do you feel in pain, Jem?”
“Where? It’s one big solid slapping pain all over me, but it’s worst where there’s a big thorn stuck in my arm.”
“Let me see.”
“No; wait a bit. I don’t mean to be left alone out here if I can help it. Now, Mas’ Don, you lift that there left leg, and see if it’s broke.”
Don raised it tenderly, and replaced it gently.
“I don’t think it’s broken, Jem.”
“Arn’t it? Well, it feels like it. P’r’aps it’s t’other one. Try.”
Don raised and replaced Jem’s right leg.
“That isn’t broken either, Jem.”
“P’r’aps they’re only crushed. Try my arms, my lad.”
These were tried in turn, and laid down.
“No, Jem.”
“Seems stoopid,” said Jem. “I thought I was broke all over. It must be my back, and when a man’s back’s broke, he feels it all over. Here, lend us a hand, my lad; and I’ll try and walk. Soon see whether a man’s back’s broke.”
Don offered his arm, and Jem, after a good deal of grunting and groaning, rose to his feet, gave himself a wrench, and then stamped with first one leg and then with the other.
“Why, I seems all right, Mas’ Don,” he said, eagerly.
“Yes, Jem.”
“Think it’s my ribs? I’ve heared say that a man don’t always know when his ribs is broke.”
“Do you feel as if they were, Jem?”
“Oh, yes; just exactly. All down one side, and up the other.”
“Could you manage to walk as far as the village? I don’t like to leave you.”
“Oh, yes; I think I can walk. Anyhow I’m going to try. I say, if you hear me squeak or crack anywhere, you’ll stop me, won’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Come on then, and let’s get there. Oh, crumpets! What a pain.”
“Lean on me.”
“No; I’m going to lean on myself,” said Jem, stoutly. “I’m pretty sure I arn’t broke, Mas’ Don; but feel just as if I was cracked all over like an old pot, and that’s werry bad, you know, arn’t it? Now then, which way is it?”
“This way, Jem, to the right of the mountain.”
“Ah, I suppose you’re right, Mas’ Don. I say, I can walk.”
“Does it hurt you very much?”
“Oh, yes; it hurts me horrid. But I say, Mas’ Don, there arn’t many chaps in Bristol as could have failed down like that without breaking theirselves, is there?”
“I think it’s wonderful, Jem.”
“That’s what I think, Mas’ Don, and I’m as proud of it as can be. Here, step out, sir; works is beginning to go better every minute. Tidy stiff; but, I say, Mas’ Don, I don’t believe I’m even cracked.”
“I am glad, Jem,” cried Don. “I felt a little while ago as if I would rather it had been me.”
“Did you, though, Mas’ Don? Well, that’s kind of you, that it is. I do like that. Come along. Don’t you be afraid. I can walk as fast as you can. Never fear! Think we shall be in time?”
“I don’t know, Jem. I was in such trouble about you that I had almost forgotten the people at the village.”
“So had I. Pain always makes me forget everything, ’speshly toothache. Why, that’s the right way,” he cried, as they turned the corner of a steep bluff.
“Yes, and in a quarter of an hour we can be there; that is, if you can walk fast?”
“I can walk fast, my lad: look. But what’s quarter of a hour? I got muddled enough over the bells board ship—three bells, and four bells, and the rest of it; but out here there don’t seem to be no time at all. Wonder how near those fellows are as we see. I am glad I arn’t broke.”
In about the time Don had said, they came to the path leading to the ravine, where the cave pierced the mountain side. A few minutes later they were by the hot bath spring, and directly after, to Don’s great delight, they came upon Tomati.
“I was coming to look for you two,” he said. “You had better not go far from thewhare. Two of the tribes have turned savage, and are talking about war.”
Don interrupted him, and told him what they had seen.
“So soon!” he said hurriedly.
“Is it bad news, then?” asked Don, anxiously.
“Bad, my lads! Bad as it can be.”
“Then that was a war-party we saw?”
“Yes; come on.”
He then put his hands to his mouth and uttered a wildly savage yell, whose effect was instantaneous. It was answered in all directions, and followed by a shrieking and wailing chorus from the women and children, who came trooping out of their huts, laden with household treasures, and hurrying up one particular path at the back of the village, one which neither Don nor Jem had intruded upon, from the belief that it led to some temple or place connected with the Maoris’ religion.
A few minutes before the men were idling about, lying on the black sand, sleeping, or eating and drinking in the most careless, indolent way. Now all were in a state of the wildest excitement, and as Don saw the great stalwart fellows come running here and there, armed with spear and stone axe, he felt that he had misjudged them, and thought that they looked like so many grand bronze figures, suddenly come to life. Their faces and nearly naked bodies were made hideous with tattooing marks; but their skins shone and the muscles stood out, and as they all grouped together under the orders of Tomati and Ngati, both Don and Jem thought that if the party they had seen were coming on to the attack, the fighting might be desperate after all.
In less time than it takes to tell, men had been sent out as scouts; and pending their return, Tomati led the way up the path, after the women and children, to where, to Don’s astonishment, there was a strong blockaded enclosure, orpah, made by binding great stakes together at the tops, after they had been driven into the ground.
There was but one entrance to the enclosure, which was on the summit of a rock with exceedingly steep sides, save where the path zigzagged to the top; and here every one was soon busy trying to strengthen the place, the spears of the men being laid against the stockade.
“May as well help,” said Jem, sturdily. “I’m not going to fight, but I don’t mind helping them to take care of themselves.”
They set to and aided in every way they could, Ngati smiling approval, patting Don on the back, and then hurrying away to return with two spears, which he handed to the two young men.
“My pakeha!” he said; and Jem gave an angry stamp, and was about to refuse to take the weapon, when there was a yell of excitement from all in thepah, for one of the scouts came running in, and as he came nearer, it could be seen that he was bleeding from a wound in the shoulder, and that he had lost his spear.
As if nerved by this sight, Don and Jem seized the spears offered for their defence.
“Yes, Mas’ Don,” said Jem; “we shall have to try and fight; seems to me as if the war’s begun!”
A wild shriek followed his words, and Don saw that they were but too true.
Chapter Thirty Nine.War.Tomati soon showed the reason for his elevation to the position of chief among the Maoris, for, in addition to being a man of commanding presence and great strength, his adventurous life had given him quickness and decision in his actions, which told with a savage race none too ready to discriminate.He rushed out of thepah, and caught the man by the shoulder, questioned him, turned him over to a couple of his friends to be doctored, and then in a loud voice informed the excited crowd that the danger was not imminent, following up this announcement with orders to go on strengthening the stockade.He was instantly obeyed, his cool manner giving his followers confidence; and they went on working hard at securing certain spots and strengthening the entrance, but always with their spears close at hand.There was another shout from a sentry, and again the whole tribe was electrified, women and children huddling under shelter, and the warriors seizing their weapons.This time a scout came running in uninjured and with his spear to announce the nearer approach of the enemy.Tomati received his news coolly enough, and then, after a word or two with Ngati, signed to the man to join the defenders, while two fresh scouts were sent out to spy the neighbourhood, and keep the chiefs well informed of the coming danger.Ngati’s eyes seemed to flash, and there was a savage rigidity in his countenance that suggested hard times for the man who attacked him; but he seemed to place the most implicit confidence in Tomati, obeying his slightest suggestion, and evidently settling himself into the place of lieutenant to the white captain.After the first wailing and tears, the women and children settled down in their shelter quite as a matter of course, and as if such an event as this were no novelty in their social history. Once within thepah, and surrounded by stout fighting men on whom they could depend, they seemed quite satisfied, and full of confidence in the result of an attack, and this took Jem’s notice.“Can’t be much danger,” he said, half contemptuously, “or these here wouldn’t take it so coolly.”“But it looks as if there was going to be a desperate fight.”“Tchah! Not that, Mas’ Don.”“But look at that scout who ran in. He was hurt.”“So is a boy who has had his head punched, and whose nose bleeds. There won’t be no real fighting, my lad. I mean men being killed, and that sort o’ thing.”“Think not, Jem?”“Sure of it, my lad. T’other side ’ll come up and dance a war-dance, and shake their spears at our lot. Then our lot ’ll dance up and down like jack-jumpers, and make faces, and put out their tongues at ’em, and call ’em names. I know their ways; and then they’ll all yell out, and shout; and then the others ’ll dance another war-dance, and shout in Noo Zealandee that they’ll kill and eat us all, and our lot’ll say they’d like to see ’em do it, and that’ll be all.”Don shook his head. The preparations looked too genuine.“Ah, you’ll see,” continued Jem. “Then one lot ’ll laugh, and say you’re obliged to go, and t’other lot ’ll come back again, and they’ll call one another more names, and finish off with killing pigs, and eating till they can’t eat no more.”“You seem to know all about it, Jem.”“Well, anybody could know as much as that,” said Jem, going to the side and taking up a bundle formed with one of the native blankets, which he began to undo.“What have you got there?”“You just wait a minute,” said Jem, with a dry look. “There! Didn’t know that was the arm chest, did you?”He unrolled and took out a cutlass and two pistols, with the ammunition, and looked up smilingly at Don.“There!” he said, “what do you think o’ them?”“I’d forgotten all about them, Jem.”“I hadn’t, my lad. There you are. Buckle on that cutlash.”“No; you had better have that, Jem. I should never use it.”“Oh, yes, you would, my lad, if it was wanted. On with it.”Don reluctantly buckled on the weapon, and Jem solemnly charged the pistols, giving Don one, and taking the other to stick in his own waistbelt.“There,” he said, retaking the spear given to him. “Don’t you feel like fighting now?”“No, Jem; not a bit.”“You don’t?”“No. Do you?”“Well, if you put it in that way,” said Jem, rubbing his ear, “I can’t say as I do. You can’t feel to want to do much in that way till some one hurts you. Then it’s different.”“It’s horrible, Jem!”“Well, I suppose it is; but don’t you get looking like that. There’ll be no fighting here. I say, Mas’ Don, it would be a bit of a game, though, to stick the pynte of this here spear a little way into one of the savages. Wonder what he’d say.”“Ah! My pakeha!” cried a voice just behind them; and they turned sharply, to find themselves face to face with Ngati, who patted Don on the shoulder, and then pointed to his cutlass and pistol.“Hah!” he ejaculated, with a deep breath; and then, without warning, snatched Don’s spear from his hand, threw himself into a series of wild attitudes, and went through the action of one engaged in an encounter with an enemy, stabbing, parrying, dodging, and darting here and there in a way that suggested instant immolation for the unfortunate he encountered.“Look at him, Mas’ Don,” whispered Jem. “Look at him pretending. That’s the way they fight. By-an’-by, you’ll see lots o’ that, but you mark my words, none on ’em won’t go nigh enough to hurt one another.”Ngati ceased as suddenly as he had begun, returned the spear to Don, and seemed to intimate that he should go through the same performance.“You wait a bit, old chap!” cried Jem. “We don’t fight that way.”“Hah!” ejaculated Ngati, and he ran across to a portion of thepahwhere several of his warriors were busily binding some of the posts more securely.“It do make me laugh,” said Jem; “but I s’pose all that bouncing helps ’em. Poor things. Mas’ Don, you and I ought to be werry thankful as we was born in Bristol, and that Bristol’s in old England. Say, shall you give any one a chop if it does come to a fight?”Don shook his head.Jem laughed.“If it warn’t for wasting the powder, I tell you what we’d do. Get up a-top yonder where we could lean over the palings, wait till the other chaps comes up, and then shoot over their heads with the pistols. That’d make some of ’em run.”There was another shout here, for two of the scouts came running in, and every man seized his spear, and darted to the spot he was expected to defend.“Why, Mas’ Don, how they can run! Look at ’em. An Englishman wouldn’t run like that from a dozen men. Here, let’s chuck these spears away. We sha’n’t want ’em. An Englishman as has got fists don’t want no spears. Look! Look!”The two scouts had come running in very swiftly till they were about a hundred yards from the gateway of thepah, when they stopped short and faced about as two of the enemy, who were in chase, dashed at them, spear in hand.Then, to Jem’s astonishment, a sharp passage of arms occurred; the spears clashed together, there was a wonderful display of thrusting and parrying, and the two enemies fell back, and the scouts continued their retreat to the shelter of the fort.“What do you think of that, Jem?” said Don excitedly. “That was real fighting.”“Real?” cried Jem; “it was wonderful!” and he spoke huskily. “Why, both those chaps was wounded, and these here’s got it, too.”The two scouts were both gashed about the arms by their enemies’ spears, but they came bravely in, without making any display, and were received by cheers, Tomati going up to each in turn, and gripping his hand.Just then the Englishman caught sight of his compatriots, and came across to them quickly.“Hullo!” he said, with a grim smile, “cleared for action, and guns run out?”“Yes, we’re ready,” said Jem.“Going to fight on our side?”“Well, I don’t know,” said Jem, in a dubious kind of way. “Fighting arn’t much in my line.”“Not in yours neither, youngster. There, I daresay we shall soon beat them off. You two keep under shelter, and if things go against us, you both get away, and make for the mountain. Go right into that cave, and wait till I join you.”“But there will not be much fighting, will there—I mean real fighting?” said Jem.“I don’t know what you mean by real fighting, squire; but I suppose we shall keep on till half of us on both sides are killed and wounded.”“So bad as that?”“P’r’aps worse,” said the man grimly. “Here, shake hands young un, in case we don’t have another chance. If you have to run for it, keep along the east coast for about a hundred miles; there’s white men settled down yonder. Good-bye.”Tomati shook hands heartily, and went off to his righting men, who were excitedly watching the level below thepah, to which part it was expected the enemy would first come.Don joined them, eager to see how matters were going, and hopeful still, in spite of Tomati’s words, that matters would not assume so serious an aspect; but just then a hand was laid upon his arm.“I was out of it, Mas’ Don,” whispered Jem. “They do bounce a deal. But there’s going to be real fighting on. One of those poor fellows who came running in, and stood up as if nothing was wrong, is dead.”“Dead?”“Yes, my lad. Spear went right through his chest. Hark at ’em!”There was a low wailing noise from the corner of thepah, where the two men were sheltered, and Don felt a chill of horror run through him.“Then it is going to be quite a savage battle, Jem?”“’Fraid so, my lad—no, I don’t mean ’fraid—think so. Now, look here, Mas’ Don, it won’t be long first, so you’d better go and lie down behind them high palings, where you’ll be safe.”“And what are you going to do?”“Stop here and see what there is to see.”“But you may be hurt.”“Well, Mas’ Don,” said Jem bitterly; “it don’t much matter if I am. Run along, my lad.”“I’m going to stop with you, Jem.”“And suppose you’re hurt; what am I to say to your mother? Why, she’d never forgive me.”“Nor me either, Jem, if I were to go and hide, while you stood out here.”“But it’s going to be real dangerous, Mas’ Don.”“It will be just as dangerous for you, Jem. What should I say to your wife if you were hurt?”“Don’t know, Mas’ Don,” said Jem sadly. “I don’t think she’d mind a deal.”“You don’t mean it, Jem!” cried Don sharply. “Now, are you coming into shelter?”“No,” said Jem, with a peculiarly hard, stern look in his face. “I’m going to fight.”“Then I shall stay too, Jem.”“Won’t you feel frightened, Mas’ Don?”“Yes, I suppose so. It seems very horrible.”“Yes, so it is, but it’s them others as makes it horrible. I’m going to give one on ’em something for spearing that poor chap. Look out, Mas’ Don; here they come!”There was a fierce shout of defiance as the scouts came running in now as hard as they could, followed by a body of about two hundred naked warriors, whose bronzed bodies glistened in the sunshine. They came on in a regular body, running swiftly, and not keeping step, but with wonderful regularity, till they were about fifty yards from thepah, when, after opening out into a solid oblong mass to show a broader front, they stopped suddenly as one man, dropped into a half-kneeling position, and remained perfectly motionless, every savage with his head bent round, as if he were looking over his left shoulder, and then turning his eyes to the ground, and holding his weapon diagonally across his body.The whole business was as correctly gone through as if it was a manoeuvre of some well-drilled European regiment, and then there was an utter silence for a few minutes.Not a sound arose from either side; enemies and friends resembled statues, and it was as if the earth had some great attraction for them, for every eye looked down instead of at a foe. Don’s heart beat heavily. As the band of heavy warriors came on, the air seemed to throb, and the earth resound. It was exciting enough then; but this was, in its utter stillness, horribly intense, and with breathless interest the two adventurers scanned the fierce-looking band.All at once Jem placed his lips close to Don’s ear, and whispered,—“Dunno what to say to it all, Mas’ Don. P’r’aps it’s flam after all.”“No, Jem; they look too fierce,” whispered back Don.“Ay, my lad, that’s it; they look so fierce. If they didn’t look so precious ugly, I should believe in ’em a bit more. Looks to me as if they were going to pretend to bite, and then run off.”A sudden yell rose from the attacking party just then, and three of the enemy rushed forward to the front, armed with short-handled stone tomahawks. They seemed to be chiefs, and were men of great height and bulk, but none the less active; and as they advanced, a low murmur of dismay was started by such of the women as could command a view of what was going on outside. This seemed to be communicated to all the rest, women and children taking up the murmur, which rose to a piteous wail. This started the pigs and dogs which had been driven into the protection of thepah, and the discord was terrible.But meanwhile, partly to encourage their followers, partly to dismay those they had come to attack, the three leaders rushed wildly to and fro before the opening to the fort, brandishing their stone axes, grimacing horribly, putting out their tongues, and turning up their eyes, till only the whites were visible.“It’s that ’ere which makes me think they won’t fight,” said Jem, as he and Don watched the scene intently.“Don’t talk, Jem. See what they are going to do. Are we to shoot if they do attack?”“If you don’t they’ll give it to us,” replied Jem. “Oh, what a row!”For at that moment there was a terrible and peculiar cry given from somewhere behind the little army, and the three men gave place to one who rushed from behind. The cry was given out three times as the man indulged in a similar set of wild evolutions to those which had been displayed by the three leaders, and with his eyes showing only the whites, he too thrust out his tongue derisively.“If I was only near enough to give you a chop under the chin!” grumbled Jem.Then he grasped and cocked the pistol he held, for the chief in front suddenly began to stamp on the ground, and shouted forth the beginning of his war-song.Up leaped the whole of the enemy, to shake their spears as they yelled out the chorus, leaping and stamping with regular movement, till the earth seemed to quiver. The acts of the chief were imitated, every man seeming to strive to outdo his fellows in the contortions of their countenances, the protrusion of their tongues, and the way in which they rolled and displayed the whites of their eyes.There was quite a military precision in the stamping and bounding, while the rhythm of the wild war-song was kept with wonderful accuracy.“Feel scared, Mas’ Don?” whispered Jem.“I did at first, Jem,” replied Don; “but they seem such a set of ridiculous idiots, that I am more disposed to laugh at them.”“That’s just how I feel, my lad, only aggrawated like, too. I should like to go among ’em with a big stick. I never see such faces as they make. It is all flam; they won’t fight.”The war-song went on as if the enemy were exciting themselves for the affray, and all the time the men of Tomati and Ngati stood firm, and as watchful as could be of their foes, who leaped, and stamped, and sang till Jem turned to Don, and said in a low voice,—“Look here, Mas’ Don, it’s my opinion that these here chaps never grew inside their heads after they was six or seven. They’ve got bodies big enough, but no more brains than a little child. Look at that six-foot-four chap making faces at us; why, it’s like a little boy. They won’t fight.”It seemed so to Don, and that it was all going to be an attempt to frighten the tribe he was with. But all the same, the enemy came by degrees nearer and nearer, as they yelled and leaped; and a suspicion suddenly crossed Don’s mind that there might be a motive in all this.“Jem, they mean to make a rush.”“Think so, Mas’ Don?”“Yes, and our people know it. Look out!”The followers of Tomati had thoroughly grasped the meaning of the indirect approach, just as a man who has practised a certain manoeuvre is prepared for the same on the part of his enemy, and they had gradually edged towards the entrance to thepah, which was closed, but which naturally presented the most accessible way to the interior.The howling chorus and the dancing continued, till, at a signal, the rush was made, and the fight began.Jem Wimble’s doubts disappeared in an instant; for, childish as the actions of the enemy had been previously, they were now those of desperate savage men, who made no account of their lives in carrying out the attack upon the weaker tribe.With a daring that would have done credit to the best disciplined forces, they darted up to the stout fence, some of them attacking the defenders, by thrusting through their spears, while others strove to climb up and cut the lashings of thetoro-toro, the stout fibrous creeper with which the palings were bound together.One minute the enemy were dancing and singing, the next wildly engaged in the fight; while hard above the din, in a mournful booming bleat, rang out the notes of a long wooden horn.The tumult increased, and was made more terrible by the screaming of the women and the crying of the children, which were increased as some unfortunate defender of thepahwent down before the spear-thrusts of the enemy.The attack was as daring and brave as could be; but the defence was no less gallant, and was supplemented by a desperate valour, which seemed to be roused to the pitch of madness as the women’s cries arose over some fallen warrior. A spear was thrust through at the defenders; answering thrusts were given, but with the disadvantage that the enemy were about two to one. Tomati fought with the solid energy of his race, always on the look-out to lead half-a-dozen men to points which were most fiercely assailed; and his efforts in this way were so successful that over and over again the enemy were driven back in spots where they had made the most energetic efforts to break through.As Don and Jem looked on they saw Tomati’s spear darted through the great fence at some savage who had climbed up, and was hacking the lashings; and so sure as that thrust was made, the stone tomahawk ceased to hack, and its user fell back with a yell of pain or despair.Ngati, too, made no grotesque contortions of his face; there was no lolling out of the tongue, or turning up of the eyes, for his countenance was set in one fixed stare, and his white teeth clenched as he fought with the valour of some knight of old.“I would not ha’ thought it, Mas’ Don,” said Jem excitedly. “Look at him; and I say—oh, poor chap!”This last was as Jem saw a fine-looking young Maori, who was defending a rather open portion of the stockade, deliver a thrust, and then draw back, drop his spear, throw up his arms, and then reel and stagger forward, to fall upon his face—dead.“They’ll be through there directly, Mas’ Don!” cried Jem, hoarsely, as Don stooped upon one knee to raise the poor fellow’s head, and lay it gently down again, for there was a look upon it that even he could understand.“Through there, Jem?” said Don, rising slowly, and looking half stunned with horror.“Yes, my lad; and Tomati’s busy over the other side, and can’t come. Arn’t it time us two did something?”“Yes,” said Don, with his face flushing, as he gave a final look at the dead Maori. “Ah!”Both he and Jem stopped short then, for there was a yell of dismay as Ngati was seen now to stagger away from the fence, and fall headlong, bleeding from half-a-dozen wounds.An answering yell came from outside, and the clatter of spear and tomahawk seemed to increase, while the posts were beginning to yield in the weak spot near where the two companions stood.“Come on, Jem!” cried Don, who seemed to be moved by a spirit of excitement, which made him forget to feel afraid; and together they ran to where two men, supported by their companions outside, were hacking at thetoro-toro, while others were fiercely thrusting their spears through whenever the defenders tried to force the axe-men down.“Pistols, Jem, and together, before those two fellows cut the lashings.”“That’s your sort!” cried Jem; and there was a sharpclick, click, as they cocked their pistols.“Now, Jem, we mustn’t miss,” said Don. “Do as I do.”He walked to within three or four yards of the great fence, and rested the butt of the spear he carried on the ground. Then, holding the pistol-barrel against the spear-shaft with his left hand, thus turning the spear into a support, he took a long and careful aim at a great bulky savage, holding on the top of the fence.Jem followed his example, and covered the other; while the enemy yelled, and thrust at them with their spears, yelling the more excitedly as it was found impossible to reach them.“Let me give the word, Mas’ Don!” cried Jem, whose voice shook with excitement. “Mind and don’t miss, dear lad, or they’ll be down upon us. Ready?”“Yes,” said Don.“Here goes, then,” cried Jem. “Fire! Stop your vents.”The two pistols went off simultaneously, and for a few moments the smoke concealed the results. Then there was a tremendous yelling outside, one that was answered from within by the defenders, who seemed to have become inspirited by the shots; for either from fright, or from the effects of the bullets, the two great Maoris who were cutting the lashings were down, and the defenders were once more at the fence, keeping the enemy back.“Load quickly, Jem,” said Don.“That’s just what I was a-going to say to you, Mas’ Don.”“Well done, my lads! That’s good!” cried a hoarse voice; and Tomati was close to them. “Keep that up; but hold your fire till you see them trying to get over, and wherever you see that, run there and give ’em a couple of shots. Ha, ha! Ha, ha!” he roared, as he rushed away to encourage his followers, just as Jem had rammed home his charge, and examined the priming in the pistol pan.“That’s just what we will do,” said Jem; “only I should like to keep at it while my blood’s warm. If I cool down I can’t fight. Say, Mas’ Don, I hope we didn’t kill those two chaps.”“I hope they’re wounded, Jem, so that they can’t fight,” replied Don, as he finished his priming. “Quick! They’re getting up yonder.”They ran across to the other side of thepah, and repeated their previous act of defence with equally good result; while the defenders, who had seemed to be flagging, yelled with delight at the two young Englishmen, and began fighting with renewed vigour.“Load away, Mas’ Don!” cried Jem; “make your ramrod hop. Never mind the pistol kicking; it kicks much harder with the other end. Four men down. What would my Sally say?”“Hi! Quick, my lads!” shouted Tomati; and as Don looked up he saw the tattooed Englishman, who looked a very savage now, pointing with his spear at one corner of the place.Don nodded, and ran with Jem in the required direction, finishing the loading as they went.It was none too soon, for three of the enemy were on the top of the fence, and, spear in hand, were about to drop down among the defenders.Bang! Went Jem’s pistol, and one of the savages fell back.Bang! Don’s shot followed, and the man at whom he aimed fell too, but right among the spears of the defenders; while the third leaped into thepah, and the next moment lay transfixed by half-a-dozen weapons.“I don’t like this, Jem,” muttered Don, as he loaded again.“More don’t I, my lad; but it’s shoot them or spear us; so load away.”Jem words were so much to the point, that they swept away Don’s compunction, and they hastily reloaded.All around were the yelling and clashing of spears; and how many of the attacking party fell could not be seen, but there was constantly the depressing sight of some brave defender of the women and children staggering away from the fence, to fall dead, or to creep away out of the struggle to where the weeping women eagerly sought to staunch his wounds and give him water.“That’s splendid, my lads! That’s splendid! Ten times better than using a spear,” cried Tomati, coming up to them again. “Plenty of powder and ball?”“Not a very great deal,” said Don.“Be careful, then, and don’t waste a shot. They can’t stand that.”“Shall we beat them off?” said Don, after seeing that his pistol was charged.“Beat them off? Why, of course. There you are again. Look sharp!”Once more the two pistols cleared the attacking Maoris from the top of the fence, where they were vainly trying to cut through the lashings; and, cheered on by these successes, the defenders yelled with delight, and used their spears with terrible effect. But the attacking party, after a recoil, came on again as stubbornly as ever, and it was plain enough to those who handled the firearms that it was only a question of time before the besieged would be beaten by numbers; and Don shuddered as he thought of the massacre that must ensue.He had been looking round, and then found that Jem was eyeing him fixedly.“Just what I was a-thinking, Mas’ Don. We’ve fought like men; but we can’t do impossibles, as I says to your uncle, when he wanted me to move a molasses barrel. Sooner we cuts and runs, the better.”“I was not thinking of running, Jem.”“Then you ought to have been, my lad; for there’s them at home as wouldn’t like us two to be killed.”“Don’t! Don’t! Jem!” cried Don. “Come on. There’s a man over! Two—three—four! Look!”He ran toward the side, where a desperate attack was being made, and, as he said, four men were over, and others following, when once more the pistols sent down a couple who had mounted the fence, one of them being shot through the chest, the other dropping on seeing his companion fall, but with no further hurt than the fright caused by a bullet whistling by his ear.The four who were over made a desperate stand, but Tomati joined in the attack, and the daring fellows soon lay weltering in their blood; while, as Don rapidly loaded once more, he saw that Tomati was leaning on his spear, and rocking himself slowly to and fro.“Are you hurt?” said Don, running up, and loading as he went.“Hurt, my lad? Yes: got it horrid. Look here, if you and him see a chance make for the mountain, and then go south’ard.”“But shall we be beaten?”“We are beaten, my lad, only we can’t show it. I’m about done.”“Oh!”“Hush! Don’t show the white feather, boy. Keep on firing, and the beggars outside may get tired first. If not— There, fire away!”He made a brave effort to seem unhurt, and went to assist his men; while once more Don and Jem ran to the side, and fired just in time to save the lashings of the fence; but Jem’s pistol went off with quite a roar, and he flung the stock away, and stood shaking his bleeding fingers.“Are you hurt, Jem?”“Hurt! He says, ‘Am I hurt?’ Why, the precious thing bursted all to shivers; and, oh, crumpets, don’t it sting!”“Let me bind it up.”“You go on and load; never mind me. Pretty sort o’ soldier you’d make. D’yer hear? Load, I say; load!”“Can’t, Jem,” said Don sadly; “that was my last charge.”“So it was mine, and I rammed in half-a-dozen stones as well to give ’em an extra dose. Think that’s what made her burst?”“Of course it was, Jem.”“Bad job; but it’s done, and we’ve got the cutlash and spears. Which are you going to use?”“The spear. No; the cutlass, Jem.”“Bravo, my lad! Phew! How my hand bleeds.”“I’m afraid we shall be beaten, Jem.”“I’m sure of it, my lad. My right hand, too; I can’t hit with it. Wish we was all going to run away now.”“Do you, Jem?”“Ay, that I do; only we couldn’t run away and leave the women and children, even if they are beaten.”A terrible yelling and shrieking arose at that moment from behind where they stood, and as they turned, it was to see the whole of the defenders, headed by Tomati, making a rush for one portion of the fence where some of the stout poles had given way. A breach had been made, and yelling like furies, the enemy were pouring through in a crowd.
Tomati soon showed the reason for his elevation to the position of chief among the Maoris, for, in addition to being a man of commanding presence and great strength, his adventurous life had given him quickness and decision in his actions, which told with a savage race none too ready to discriminate.
He rushed out of thepah, and caught the man by the shoulder, questioned him, turned him over to a couple of his friends to be doctored, and then in a loud voice informed the excited crowd that the danger was not imminent, following up this announcement with orders to go on strengthening the stockade.
He was instantly obeyed, his cool manner giving his followers confidence; and they went on working hard at securing certain spots and strengthening the entrance, but always with their spears close at hand.
There was another shout from a sentry, and again the whole tribe was electrified, women and children huddling under shelter, and the warriors seizing their weapons.
This time a scout came running in uninjured and with his spear to announce the nearer approach of the enemy.
Tomati received his news coolly enough, and then, after a word or two with Ngati, signed to the man to join the defenders, while two fresh scouts were sent out to spy the neighbourhood, and keep the chiefs well informed of the coming danger.
Ngati’s eyes seemed to flash, and there was a savage rigidity in his countenance that suggested hard times for the man who attacked him; but he seemed to place the most implicit confidence in Tomati, obeying his slightest suggestion, and evidently settling himself into the place of lieutenant to the white captain.
After the first wailing and tears, the women and children settled down in their shelter quite as a matter of course, and as if such an event as this were no novelty in their social history. Once within thepah, and surrounded by stout fighting men on whom they could depend, they seemed quite satisfied, and full of confidence in the result of an attack, and this took Jem’s notice.
“Can’t be much danger,” he said, half contemptuously, “or these here wouldn’t take it so coolly.”
“But it looks as if there was going to be a desperate fight.”
“Tchah! Not that, Mas’ Don.”
“But look at that scout who ran in. He was hurt.”
“So is a boy who has had his head punched, and whose nose bleeds. There won’t be no real fighting, my lad. I mean men being killed, and that sort o’ thing.”
“Think not, Jem?”
“Sure of it, my lad. T’other side ’ll come up and dance a war-dance, and shake their spears at our lot. Then our lot ’ll dance up and down like jack-jumpers, and make faces, and put out their tongues at ’em, and call ’em names. I know their ways; and then they’ll all yell out, and shout; and then the others ’ll dance another war-dance, and shout in Noo Zealandee that they’ll kill and eat us all, and our lot’ll say they’d like to see ’em do it, and that’ll be all.”
Don shook his head. The preparations looked too genuine.
“Ah, you’ll see,” continued Jem. “Then one lot ’ll laugh, and say you’re obliged to go, and t’other lot ’ll come back again, and they’ll call one another more names, and finish off with killing pigs, and eating till they can’t eat no more.”
“You seem to know all about it, Jem.”
“Well, anybody could know as much as that,” said Jem, going to the side and taking up a bundle formed with one of the native blankets, which he began to undo.
“What have you got there?”
“You just wait a minute,” said Jem, with a dry look. “There! Didn’t know that was the arm chest, did you?”
He unrolled and took out a cutlass and two pistols, with the ammunition, and looked up smilingly at Don.
“There!” he said, “what do you think o’ them?”
“I’d forgotten all about them, Jem.”
“I hadn’t, my lad. There you are. Buckle on that cutlash.”
“No; you had better have that, Jem. I should never use it.”
“Oh, yes, you would, my lad, if it was wanted. On with it.”
Don reluctantly buckled on the weapon, and Jem solemnly charged the pistols, giving Don one, and taking the other to stick in his own waistbelt.
“There,” he said, retaking the spear given to him. “Don’t you feel like fighting now?”
“No, Jem; not a bit.”
“You don’t?”
“No. Do you?”
“Well, if you put it in that way,” said Jem, rubbing his ear, “I can’t say as I do. You can’t feel to want to do much in that way till some one hurts you. Then it’s different.”
“It’s horrible, Jem!”
“Well, I suppose it is; but don’t you get looking like that. There’ll be no fighting here. I say, Mas’ Don, it would be a bit of a game, though, to stick the pynte of this here spear a little way into one of the savages. Wonder what he’d say.”
“Ah! My pakeha!” cried a voice just behind them; and they turned sharply, to find themselves face to face with Ngati, who patted Don on the shoulder, and then pointed to his cutlass and pistol.
“Hah!” he ejaculated, with a deep breath; and then, without warning, snatched Don’s spear from his hand, threw himself into a series of wild attitudes, and went through the action of one engaged in an encounter with an enemy, stabbing, parrying, dodging, and darting here and there in a way that suggested instant immolation for the unfortunate he encountered.
“Look at him, Mas’ Don,” whispered Jem. “Look at him pretending. That’s the way they fight. By-an’-by, you’ll see lots o’ that, but you mark my words, none on ’em won’t go nigh enough to hurt one another.”
Ngati ceased as suddenly as he had begun, returned the spear to Don, and seemed to intimate that he should go through the same performance.
“You wait a bit, old chap!” cried Jem. “We don’t fight that way.”
“Hah!” ejaculated Ngati, and he ran across to a portion of thepahwhere several of his warriors were busily binding some of the posts more securely.
“It do make me laugh,” said Jem; “but I s’pose all that bouncing helps ’em. Poor things. Mas’ Don, you and I ought to be werry thankful as we was born in Bristol, and that Bristol’s in old England. Say, shall you give any one a chop if it does come to a fight?”
Don shook his head.
Jem laughed.
“If it warn’t for wasting the powder, I tell you what we’d do. Get up a-top yonder where we could lean over the palings, wait till the other chaps comes up, and then shoot over their heads with the pistols. That’d make some of ’em run.”
There was another shout here, for two of the scouts came running in, and every man seized his spear, and darted to the spot he was expected to defend.
“Why, Mas’ Don, how they can run! Look at ’em. An Englishman wouldn’t run like that from a dozen men. Here, let’s chuck these spears away. We sha’n’t want ’em. An Englishman as has got fists don’t want no spears. Look! Look!”
The two scouts had come running in very swiftly till they were about a hundred yards from the gateway of thepah, when they stopped short and faced about as two of the enemy, who were in chase, dashed at them, spear in hand.
Then, to Jem’s astonishment, a sharp passage of arms occurred; the spears clashed together, there was a wonderful display of thrusting and parrying, and the two enemies fell back, and the scouts continued their retreat to the shelter of the fort.
“What do you think of that, Jem?” said Don excitedly. “That was real fighting.”
“Real?” cried Jem; “it was wonderful!” and he spoke huskily. “Why, both those chaps was wounded, and these here’s got it, too.”
The two scouts were both gashed about the arms by their enemies’ spears, but they came bravely in, without making any display, and were received by cheers, Tomati going up to each in turn, and gripping his hand.
Just then the Englishman caught sight of his compatriots, and came across to them quickly.
“Hullo!” he said, with a grim smile, “cleared for action, and guns run out?”
“Yes, we’re ready,” said Jem.
“Going to fight on our side?”
“Well, I don’t know,” said Jem, in a dubious kind of way. “Fighting arn’t much in my line.”
“Not in yours neither, youngster. There, I daresay we shall soon beat them off. You two keep under shelter, and if things go against us, you both get away, and make for the mountain. Go right into that cave, and wait till I join you.”
“But there will not be much fighting, will there—I mean real fighting?” said Jem.
“I don’t know what you mean by real fighting, squire; but I suppose we shall keep on till half of us on both sides are killed and wounded.”
“So bad as that?”
“P’r’aps worse,” said the man grimly. “Here, shake hands young un, in case we don’t have another chance. If you have to run for it, keep along the east coast for about a hundred miles; there’s white men settled down yonder. Good-bye.”
Tomati shook hands heartily, and went off to his righting men, who were excitedly watching the level below thepah, to which part it was expected the enemy would first come.
Don joined them, eager to see how matters were going, and hopeful still, in spite of Tomati’s words, that matters would not assume so serious an aspect; but just then a hand was laid upon his arm.
“I was out of it, Mas’ Don,” whispered Jem. “They do bounce a deal. But there’s going to be real fighting on. One of those poor fellows who came running in, and stood up as if nothing was wrong, is dead.”
“Dead?”
“Yes, my lad. Spear went right through his chest. Hark at ’em!”
There was a low wailing noise from the corner of thepah, where the two men were sheltered, and Don felt a chill of horror run through him.
“Then it is going to be quite a savage battle, Jem?”
“’Fraid so, my lad—no, I don’t mean ’fraid—think so. Now, look here, Mas’ Don, it won’t be long first, so you’d better go and lie down behind them high palings, where you’ll be safe.”
“And what are you going to do?”
“Stop here and see what there is to see.”
“But you may be hurt.”
“Well, Mas’ Don,” said Jem bitterly; “it don’t much matter if I am. Run along, my lad.”
“I’m going to stop with you, Jem.”
“And suppose you’re hurt; what am I to say to your mother? Why, she’d never forgive me.”
“Nor me either, Jem, if I were to go and hide, while you stood out here.”
“But it’s going to be real dangerous, Mas’ Don.”
“It will be just as dangerous for you, Jem. What should I say to your wife if you were hurt?”
“Don’t know, Mas’ Don,” said Jem sadly. “I don’t think she’d mind a deal.”
“You don’t mean it, Jem!” cried Don sharply. “Now, are you coming into shelter?”
“No,” said Jem, with a peculiarly hard, stern look in his face. “I’m going to fight.”
“Then I shall stay too, Jem.”
“Won’t you feel frightened, Mas’ Don?”
“Yes, I suppose so. It seems very horrible.”
“Yes, so it is, but it’s them others as makes it horrible. I’m going to give one on ’em something for spearing that poor chap. Look out, Mas’ Don; here they come!”
There was a fierce shout of defiance as the scouts came running in now as hard as they could, followed by a body of about two hundred naked warriors, whose bronzed bodies glistened in the sunshine. They came on in a regular body, running swiftly, and not keeping step, but with wonderful regularity, till they were about fifty yards from thepah, when, after opening out into a solid oblong mass to show a broader front, they stopped suddenly as one man, dropped into a half-kneeling position, and remained perfectly motionless, every savage with his head bent round, as if he were looking over his left shoulder, and then turning his eyes to the ground, and holding his weapon diagonally across his body.
The whole business was as correctly gone through as if it was a manoeuvre of some well-drilled European regiment, and then there was an utter silence for a few minutes.
Not a sound arose from either side; enemies and friends resembled statues, and it was as if the earth had some great attraction for them, for every eye looked down instead of at a foe. Don’s heart beat heavily. As the band of heavy warriors came on, the air seemed to throb, and the earth resound. It was exciting enough then; but this was, in its utter stillness, horribly intense, and with breathless interest the two adventurers scanned the fierce-looking band.
All at once Jem placed his lips close to Don’s ear, and whispered,—
“Dunno what to say to it all, Mas’ Don. P’r’aps it’s flam after all.”
“No, Jem; they look too fierce,” whispered back Don.
“Ay, my lad, that’s it; they look so fierce. If they didn’t look so precious ugly, I should believe in ’em a bit more. Looks to me as if they were going to pretend to bite, and then run off.”
A sudden yell rose from the attacking party just then, and three of the enemy rushed forward to the front, armed with short-handled stone tomahawks. They seemed to be chiefs, and were men of great height and bulk, but none the less active; and as they advanced, a low murmur of dismay was started by such of the women as could command a view of what was going on outside. This seemed to be communicated to all the rest, women and children taking up the murmur, which rose to a piteous wail. This started the pigs and dogs which had been driven into the protection of thepah, and the discord was terrible.
But meanwhile, partly to encourage their followers, partly to dismay those they had come to attack, the three leaders rushed wildly to and fro before the opening to the fort, brandishing their stone axes, grimacing horribly, putting out their tongues, and turning up their eyes, till only the whites were visible.
“It’s that ’ere which makes me think they won’t fight,” said Jem, as he and Don watched the scene intently.
“Don’t talk, Jem. See what they are going to do. Are we to shoot if they do attack?”
“If you don’t they’ll give it to us,” replied Jem. “Oh, what a row!”
For at that moment there was a terrible and peculiar cry given from somewhere behind the little army, and the three men gave place to one who rushed from behind. The cry was given out three times as the man indulged in a similar set of wild evolutions to those which had been displayed by the three leaders, and with his eyes showing only the whites, he too thrust out his tongue derisively.
“If I was only near enough to give you a chop under the chin!” grumbled Jem.
Then he grasped and cocked the pistol he held, for the chief in front suddenly began to stamp on the ground, and shouted forth the beginning of his war-song.
Up leaped the whole of the enemy, to shake their spears as they yelled out the chorus, leaping and stamping with regular movement, till the earth seemed to quiver. The acts of the chief were imitated, every man seeming to strive to outdo his fellows in the contortions of their countenances, the protrusion of their tongues, and the way in which they rolled and displayed the whites of their eyes.
There was quite a military precision in the stamping and bounding, while the rhythm of the wild war-song was kept with wonderful accuracy.
“Feel scared, Mas’ Don?” whispered Jem.
“I did at first, Jem,” replied Don; “but they seem such a set of ridiculous idiots, that I am more disposed to laugh at them.”
“That’s just how I feel, my lad, only aggrawated like, too. I should like to go among ’em with a big stick. I never see such faces as they make. It is all flam; they won’t fight.”
The war-song went on as if the enemy were exciting themselves for the affray, and all the time the men of Tomati and Ngati stood firm, and as watchful as could be of their foes, who leaped, and stamped, and sang till Jem turned to Don, and said in a low voice,—
“Look here, Mas’ Don, it’s my opinion that these here chaps never grew inside their heads after they was six or seven. They’ve got bodies big enough, but no more brains than a little child. Look at that six-foot-four chap making faces at us; why, it’s like a little boy. They won’t fight.”
It seemed so to Don, and that it was all going to be an attempt to frighten the tribe he was with. But all the same, the enemy came by degrees nearer and nearer, as they yelled and leaped; and a suspicion suddenly crossed Don’s mind that there might be a motive in all this.
“Jem, they mean to make a rush.”
“Think so, Mas’ Don?”
“Yes, and our people know it. Look out!”
The followers of Tomati had thoroughly grasped the meaning of the indirect approach, just as a man who has practised a certain manoeuvre is prepared for the same on the part of his enemy, and they had gradually edged towards the entrance to thepah, which was closed, but which naturally presented the most accessible way to the interior.
The howling chorus and the dancing continued, till, at a signal, the rush was made, and the fight began.
Jem Wimble’s doubts disappeared in an instant; for, childish as the actions of the enemy had been previously, they were now those of desperate savage men, who made no account of their lives in carrying out the attack upon the weaker tribe.
With a daring that would have done credit to the best disciplined forces, they darted up to the stout fence, some of them attacking the defenders, by thrusting through their spears, while others strove to climb up and cut the lashings of thetoro-toro, the stout fibrous creeper with which the palings were bound together.
One minute the enemy were dancing and singing, the next wildly engaged in the fight; while hard above the din, in a mournful booming bleat, rang out the notes of a long wooden horn.
The tumult increased, and was made more terrible by the screaming of the women and the crying of the children, which were increased as some unfortunate defender of thepahwent down before the spear-thrusts of the enemy.
The attack was as daring and brave as could be; but the defence was no less gallant, and was supplemented by a desperate valour, which seemed to be roused to the pitch of madness as the women’s cries arose over some fallen warrior. A spear was thrust through at the defenders; answering thrusts were given, but with the disadvantage that the enemy were about two to one. Tomati fought with the solid energy of his race, always on the look-out to lead half-a-dozen men to points which were most fiercely assailed; and his efforts in this way were so successful that over and over again the enemy were driven back in spots where they had made the most energetic efforts to break through.
As Don and Jem looked on they saw Tomati’s spear darted through the great fence at some savage who had climbed up, and was hacking the lashings; and so sure as that thrust was made, the stone tomahawk ceased to hack, and its user fell back with a yell of pain or despair.
Ngati, too, made no grotesque contortions of his face; there was no lolling out of the tongue, or turning up of the eyes, for his countenance was set in one fixed stare, and his white teeth clenched as he fought with the valour of some knight of old.
“I would not ha’ thought it, Mas’ Don,” said Jem excitedly. “Look at him; and I say—oh, poor chap!”
This last was as Jem saw a fine-looking young Maori, who was defending a rather open portion of the stockade, deliver a thrust, and then draw back, drop his spear, throw up his arms, and then reel and stagger forward, to fall upon his face—dead.
“They’ll be through there directly, Mas’ Don!” cried Jem, hoarsely, as Don stooped upon one knee to raise the poor fellow’s head, and lay it gently down again, for there was a look upon it that even he could understand.
“Through there, Jem?” said Don, rising slowly, and looking half stunned with horror.
“Yes, my lad; and Tomati’s busy over the other side, and can’t come. Arn’t it time us two did something?”
“Yes,” said Don, with his face flushing, as he gave a final look at the dead Maori. “Ah!”
Both he and Jem stopped short then, for there was a yell of dismay as Ngati was seen now to stagger away from the fence, and fall headlong, bleeding from half-a-dozen wounds.
An answering yell came from outside, and the clatter of spear and tomahawk seemed to increase, while the posts were beginning to yield in the weak spot near where the two companions stood.
“Come on, Jem!” cried Don, who seemed to be moved by a spirit of excitement, which made him forget to feel afraid; and together they ran to where two men, supported by their companions outside, were hacking at thetoro-toro, while others were fiercely thrusting their spears through whenever the defenders tried to force the axe-men down.
“Pistols, Jem, and together, before those two fellows cut the lashings.”
“That’s your sort!” cried Jem; and there was a sharpclick, click, as they cocked their pistols.
“Now, Jem, we mustn’t miss,” said Don. “Do as I do.”
He walked to within three or four yards of the great fence, and rested the butt of the spear he carried on the ground. Then, holding the pistol-barrel against the spear-shaft with his left hand, thus turning the spear into a support, he took a long and careful aim at a great bulky savage, holding on the top of the fence.
Jem followed his example, and covered the other; while the enemy yelled, and thrust at them with their spears, yelling the more excitedly as it was found impossible to reach them.
“Let me give the word, Mas’ Don!” cried Jem, whose voice shook with excitement. “Mind and don’t miss, dear lad, or they’ll be down upon us. Ready?”
“Yes,” said Don.
“Here goes, then,” cried Jem. “Fire! Stop your vents.”
The two pistols went off simultaneously, and for a few moments the smoke concealed the results. Then there was a tremendous yelling outside, one that was answered from within by the defenders, who seemed to have become inspirited by the shots; for either from fright, or from the effects of the bullets, the two great Maoris who were cutting the lashings were down, and the defenders were once more at the fence, keeping the enemy back.
“Load quickly, Jem,” said Don.
“That’s just what I was a-going to say to you, Mas’ Don.”
“Well done, my lads! That’s good!” cried a hoarse voice; and Tomati was close to them. “Keep that up; but hold your fire till you see them trying to get over, and wherever you see that, run there and give ’em a couple of shots. Ha, ha! Ha, ha!” he roared, as he rushed away to encourage his followers, just as Jem had rammed home his charge, and examined the priming in the pistol pan.
“That’s just what we will do,” said Jem; “only I should like to keep at it while my blood’s warm. If I cool down I can’t fight. Say, Mas’ Don, I hope we didn’t kill those two chaps.”
“I hope they’re wounded, Jem, so that they can’t fight,” replied Don, as he finished his priming. “Quick! They’re getting up yonder.”
They ran across to the other side of thepah, and repeated their previous act of defence with equally good result; while the defenders, who had seemed to be flagging, yelled with delight at the two young Englishmen, and began fighting with renewed vigour.
“Load away, Mas’ Don!” cried Jem; “make your ramrod hop. Never mind the pistol kicking; it kicks much harder with the other end. Four men down. What would my Sally say?”
“Hi! Quick, my lads!” shouted Tomati; and as Don looked up he saw the tattooed Englishman, who looked a very savage now, pointing with his spear at one corner of the place.
Don nodded, and ran with Jem in the required direction, finishing the loading as they went.
It was none too soon, for three of the enemy were on the top of the fence, and, spear in hand, were about to drop down among the defenders.
Bang! Went Jem’s pistol, and one of the savages fell back.
Bang! Don’s shot followed, and the man at whom he aimed fell too, but right among the spears of the defenders; while the third leaped into thepah, and the next moment lay transfixed by half-a-dozen weapons.
“I don’t like this, Jem,” muttered Don, as he loaded again.
“More don’t I, my lad; but it’s shoot them or spear us; so load away.”
Jem words were so much to the point, that they swept away Don’s compunction, and they hastily reloaded.
All around were the yelling and clashing of spears; and how many of the attacking party fell could not be seen, but there was constantly the depressing sight of some brave defender of the women and children staggering away from the fence, to fall dead, or to creep away out of the struggle to where the weeping women eagerly sought to staunch his wounds and give him water.
“That’s splendid, my lads! That’s splendid! Ten times better than using a spear,” cried Tomati, coming up to them again. “Plenty of powder and ball?”
“Not a very great deal,” said Don.
“Be careful, then, and don’t waste a shot. They can’t stand that.”
“Shall we beat them off?” said Don, after seeing that his pistol was charged.
“Beat them off? Why, of course. There you are again. Look sharp!”
Once more the two pistols cleared the attacking Maoris from the top of the fence, where they were vainly trying to cut through the lashings; and, cheered on by these successes, the defenders yelled with delight, and used their spears with terrible effect. But the attacking party, after a recoil, came on again as stubbornly as ever, and it was plain enough to those who handled the firearms that it was only a question of time before the besieged would be beaten by numbers; and Don shuddered as he thought of the massacre that must ensue.
He had been looking round, and then found that Jem was eyeing him fixedly.
“Just what I was a-thinking, Mas’ Don. We’ve fought like men; but we can’t do impossibles, as I says to your uncle, when he wanted me to move a molasses barrel. Sooner we cuts and runs, the better.”
“I was not thinking of running, Jem.”
“Then you ought to have been, my lad; for there’s them at home as wouldn’t like us two to be killed.”
“Don’t! Don’t! Jem!” cried Don. “Come on. There’s a man over! Two—three—four! Look!”
He ran toward the side, where a desperate attack was being made, and, as he said, four men were over, and others following, when once more the pistols sent down a couple who had mounted the fence, one of them being shot through the chest, the other dropping on seeing his companion fall, but with no further hurt than the fright caused by a bullet whistling by his ear.
The four who were over made a desperate stand, but Tomati joined in the attack, and the daring fellows soon lay weltering in their blood; while, as Don rapidly loaded once more, he saw that Tomati was leaning on his spear, and rocking himself slowly to and fro.
“Are you hurt?” said Don, running up, and loading as he went.
“Hurt, my lad? Yes: got it horrid. Look here, if you and him see a chance make for the mountain, and then go south’ard.”
“But shall we be beaten?”
“We are beaten, my lad, only we can’t show it. I’m about done.”
“Oh!”
“Hush! Don’t show the white feather, boy. Keep on firing, and the beggars outside may get tired first. If not— There, fire away!”
He made a brave effort to seem unhurt, and went to assist his men; while once more Don and Jem ran to the side, and fired just in time to save the lashings of the fence; but Jem’s pistol went off with quite a roar, and he flung the stock away, and stood shaking his bleeding fingers.
“Are you hurt, Jem?”
“Hurt! He says, ‘Am I hurt?’ Why, the precious thing bursted all to shivers; and, oh, crumpets, don’t it sting!”
“Let me bind it up.”
“You go on and load; never mind me. Pretty sort o’ soldier you’d make. D’yer hear? Load, I say; load!”
“Can’t, Jem,” said Don sadly; “that was my last charge.”
“So it was mine, and I rammed in half-a-dozen stones as well to give ’em an extra dose. Think that’s what made her burst?”
“Of course it was, Jem.”
“Bad job; but it’s done, and we’ve got the cutlash and spears. Which are you going to use?”
“The spear. No; the cutlass, Jem.”
“Bravo, my lad! Phew! How my hand bleeds.”
“I’m afraid we shall be beaten, Jem.”
“I’m sure of it, my lad. My right hand, too; I can’t hit with it. Wish we was all going to run away now.”
“Do you, Jem?”
“Ay, that I do; only we couldn’t run away and leave the women and children, even if they are beaten.”
A terrible yelling and shrieking arose at that moment from behind where they stood, and as they turned, it was to see the whole of the defenders, headed by Tomati, making a rush for one portion of the fence where some of the stout poles had given way. A breach had been made, and yelling like furies, the enemy were pouring through in a crowd.