Plume of the Arawas
V. The Carved Canoes
V. The Carved Canoes
But seek the guardian power
And rouse it now to act
Before thy great canoe
O'erturn and all be lost!
D aily Tuwharétoa grew stronger, and daily the battle with the maiden of Ngatihotu continued, and daily did the Arawa discover in Rerémoa fresh qualities of mind and spirit as she fought for the Lake and for the life of her people.
Nor did she fight alone in that battle, for often and often and even against his will Tuwharétoa thought of all the things which he would see if only he would go with her to her home—the unknown Lake Rotoaira, the unknown country around the lake and beyond, and, greatest sight of all and close at hand, Tongariro. Even might a chance offer to scale one or all of the three peaks of Tongariro and, from the top, see the bounds of Aotea-roa.
At other times he tempted himself with the thought of all the things which he might learn from the High Chief Nukutea at Rotoaira Pa—the source of the strong “urukéhu” strain in Rerémoa, the origin of the Ngatihotu tribe and the connection of that tribe with the tribes, of Tawhiti; and even, perhaps, more definite knowledge about the origin of the Maori race and about the relationship of man to the Supreme Being. Yes! Even might he hope to scale some of the peaks of knowledge and gaze out upon new country of mind and soul.
And daily the temptation to remain by the side of Rerémoa grew stronger also. After all, he asked himself, what harm could be done by a visit to Roto-aira? Surely even as an ariki he was entitled to a measure of human joy, and to a little relief after his illness and after all the anxieties and troubles that had for so long been his. And surely he would be strong enough to resist even the whisper-songs of Rerémoa if those songs should in the end interfere with his plans for Taupo.
Thus he tempted himself; but time and again there came to his mind the warning of Marama that he would be weak in the hands of the Ngatihotu maiden and that she would drag him down. And whenever he thought of that warning he grew moody with Rerémoa and angry with himself.
Yet they continued to have many happy times together at the rock shelter.
Ah! That great moment for the warrior, when, on removing the splints of totara bark from his arm, he found the bone to be well-knit and the arm quite in shape again! And Rerémoa rejoiced with him as she ran her soft fingers caressingly up and down that arm, and pressed her face to it, and lingered over it, ere she placed it back within its sling again.
Also, there was the daily search for food which they now always carried out together—the snaring of wood-pigeons and swamp-hens and other birds, the gathering of berries, and the stripping of mamaku tree-ferns so that the maiden might steam the soft pith in the earth-oven. But the digging of fernroot Tuwharétoa reserved for himself alone.
Daily also they found pleasure in the meal-time visits of the parent wekas and their brood of chicks. So tame and friendly, indeed, did the old weka become that he would even take food from the maiden's hand. Yet from the very first he would suffer no rivals about the place, and some fierce encounters occurred before he could drive away certain parrots and other birds that sought to share in his pickings.
The time came when the old wood-hen even turned against his own offspring. As each chick came near him in search of food, he ruffled the feathers on his head and neck in sudden anger, and fiercely stabbed at the chick with his shapp bill. The young wekas, as each in turn met with this bewildering reception, made no effort to escape but simply crouched upon the ground and squeaked prodigiously.
To Rerémoa's disgust the mother-weka seemed to take no interest whatever in the matter. Certainly she did nothing to protect the chicks from their father's wrath. But Tuwharétoa only smiled again, for he knew that the mother-bird knew that the time had come to force the half-grown chicks to scratch for a living for themselves.
From that time on the chicks feared the old weka, and in a day or two they moved off into the forest by themselves. Life at first was no doubt somewhat hard for them, and more than once the head of a young weka was seen above the fern at the edge of the forest across the gully, with eyes gazing up at the spot where the good things of life had so often been freely given. But each time there was a hasty retreat as the old weka with shrill and angry cries set out after the young weka and made it go for its life through the undergrowth, while the whole forest near by seemed to resound with the uproar of the chase.
“A loving parent?” asked Tuwharétoa of the maiden the first time this happened.
………..
On the day that Tuwharétoa finally dispensed with the sling that had supported his broken arm, he began to make drawings in carved relief upon the soft inner wall of the shelter, and then for day after day he continued working upon that wall, with Reremoa growing more and more distressed as she saw drawing after drawing take form and shape in the likeness of a waka-taua.
In vain did she try to interest Tuwharétoa in other things in the hope that he would desist from further carving.
Once, while he was working away, she spoke to him about a matter that for a long time had troubled her mind:
“O Manaia, what wilt thou do in the stormy days of winter, when thine ariki Tuwharétoa will have withdrawn his waka-taua from the Lake-of-a-Hundred-Winds? Wilt thou visit me at Rotoaira, or wilt thou return to thy home at Rotorua? “.
“I come not from Rotorua,” said Tuwharétoa somewhat sharply as he went on with his work, quite unconscious of the look of relief that came into the eyes of the maiden as he spoke.
On another day, when gazing out towards the Uréwera through a gap in the trees that marked the bottom of the gully, Rerémoa saw black specks moving over a hill on the far side of the Rangitaiki Valley, specks that were moving southward.
She called to the Arawa and he came to her side, but he showed little interest in what he saw.
“Tuhoe, persistent Tuhoe upon the war-path again!” he said. “But what of that? Te Arawa will deal with Tuhoe in due time.” And he went back to his carvings.
Then only did the overwrought maiden of Ngatihotu give way to her feelings. Ah! Blue eyes blazing, hands clenched, she stood there before the shelter and reproached the Arawa for torturing her with those dreadful carvings. Then, in her anger, she laughed at him and at his tribe for thinking ever of Tuhoe, Tuhoe, Tuhoe.
“But what of the Whanganuis?” she asked. “Are not the People-of-the-River nearer to Taupo and more to be feared than are the People-of-the-Mist? And, whilst thou art keeping away from Rotoaira Pa, what will Rerémoa do if the ariki of the Whanganuis come to claim her as his promised wife and offer to join Ngatihotu in a war against Te Arawa? Enough! Never again will I ask thee to go with me to Rotoaira.” And with haughty step she walked away.
“The blood of chiefs!” said Tuwharétoa to himself as he watched her.
………..
When Rerémoa returned to the shelter that day her face showed signs of the stress of her emotion, but she smiled at the Arawa, and she even jested with him about the unskilful work on some of his carvings. Then, having counted the canoes, large and small, and found them to number sixteen all told, she remarked upon the fact that they were all heading the one way, like a fleet of canoes—towards Taupo.
“Yes!” replied Tuwharétoa. “They form a fleet —a vessel each for the chiefs twice seven and two who came in the Te Arawa from Tawhiti long ago. Kua oti ! The work is finished!”.
And the heart of Rerémoa sank within her as she heard those words. Ah! Now she knew the reason for those carvings. This Ariki of Te Arawa had felt himself to be weakening in the fight, and so had called to his aid the spirits of the chiefs of his ancestral Canoe. From now on he would surround himself with forces shadowy but real and great! Aué! The hopelessness now of further efforts to move him from his purpose!.
Scarcely knowing what she was doing, she took up a pointed stick and a flake of obsidian, and then, on the soft wall a little in front of the foremost canoe of the “fleet,” she drew with incised lines the shape of a very small canoe with the prow pointing eastward. She even added at either end a line or two to represent waves of water.
“My one canoe against thy fleet, O Arawa!” she whispered. Then, with a pitiful little moan of distress, she swooned.
Yet recompense came to her, for when she regained consciousness she found the Arawa bending over her and trying to comfort her with the news that he would go with her to Rotoaira Pa.
………..
Out on the island in Taupo Lake, Marama waited and waited for a message that was long in coming.
Several nights before she had stirred the warriors with the news that the Ariki Tuwharétoa had recovered from his wounds and was setting out for the Lake, accompanied by the maiden of Ngatihotu; and further, that he had ordered all to remain on the island and await a message.
Thereafter night after night she had followed her brother by the light of the mind as he had moved across the plateau and round the eastern and southern shores of Taupo. So joined were they in spirit that she had even heard his karakias as he had forded the great river Tongariro. Then on through a maze of kumara and taro plantations and past a conical hill he had gone, then up a forest track which led over a pass between two mountains called Pihanga and Kakaramea until at last, on the fourth night, the journey had ended.
It was now high noon of the following day, yet still no message had come. The warriors grouped below the ledge on which Marama stood were impatiently demanding to be sent at once to their leader's aid. But Marama, with her gaze directed steadily towards that gap in the mountains, still waited—and listened.
Presently, however, she gave a little cry of delight, then spoke:
“Ah! It is the beat of the White Hawk's wings. The Hawk soars. He looks down upon the lands of Ngatihotu, and sees clusters of dwellings on the fertile flats but few defensive pas on the hills around. He sees hot springs and geysers on both sides of a stream, he sees raupo swamps with small lagoons black with wild-fowl, and he sees forest bordered everywhere by sunny and sheltered slopes. Ah! Listen to his message!.
“‘Seed, fresh seed of the ancient seed of Hawaiki-the-Beloved, shall be planted here in congenial soil. Yes; here shall be planted my people, at the heart, the very heart of Aotea-roa! Enough!’”.
The warriors below burst into a haka, but it ended quickly, for Marama had held up her hand with a sign for silence. Then she spoke again:
“Another message does my brother send, and it fills me with dread. He speaks of a visit that he will make to the home of the Ngatihotu maiden, near Tongariro. Aué! She will drag him down. No, he says, he will be strong to resist. Aué! The danger when he resists! Ah! He wants Rata to bring the waka-taua in towards the waterfall to-morrow at noon and to keep her there for two days, but on no account to land his men. Alas! Two days with the maiden of Ngatihotu in her own home! She will drag him down. She will drag him down. Oh, my brother! my brother!”.