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Chapter XVII.

The evening was hot and sultry; though no rain had actually fallen the clouds had gathered black and gloomy, and hid out the westering rays of the sun.

Edith Mandeville, tired of the close oppressive feeling in the house, strolled out into the extensive garden at the back of it. Poor girl! she was very sad; not only were all her hopes of happiness in this world destroyed by the death of her lover, but she was now subject to constant persecution from both her father and mother to induce her to marry Malcolm Butler.

Her father, who, as we have said, had page 209spent all his life in business, and in acquiring, or endeavouring to acquire money, was positively unable to understand how any girl could refuse to accept the advantages in the way of wealth, rank, and position which a marriage with Malcolm Butler would give her, and attributed her disinclination to accept his proposals to romantic folly, and what he called a sentimental remembrance of a dead lover, who could never have been her husband.

Under these circumstances he not only considered it his duty, as he said, to constantly urge Edith himself to accept Malcolm Butler as a lover, but he forced his wife to do so also.

Mrs. Mandeville was rather unwilling to urge Edith to contract a hasty marriage with Malcolm Butler, as her womanly instinct taught her that it was not so easy for a woman who had loved a man so page 210fondly as she knew Edith had loved Henry Ancrum, to forget him so soon as her husband seemed to imagine; but at the same time she was just as sensible as he was of the immense advantage it would be to their daughter to make so good a match, and therefore, though less violent in her arguments, she was just as persevering as her husband in endeavouring to induce Edith to think of Malcolm Butler as a future husband.

When Edith refused Malcolm's proposal of marriage, she thought, poor girl, that his persecution was over, and that she would now be left in peace. In this she was much mistaken. He did indeed for a time visit at the house less frequently, but it was only for a time. Ere long he was as much there as ever; and, moreover, so confident had he become that, by the assistance of Mr. and Mrs. Mandeville, he page 211must eventually succeed in his suit for Edith's hand, that his manner assumed a boldness and assurance it did not formerly possess; in fact, it seemed to say "You may struggle, little bird, as much as you please, but you must and shall eventually be mine."

Thinking sadly of all these things, Edith had wandered down the garden until she had come to its further extremity; here there was a considerable clump of trees left from the original forest, when the clearing beyond had been made.

Entering amongst these trees by a winding path, Edith had arrived at their further edge, when happening to look across the clearing, she saw amongst the trees on the opposite side, a group of two or three Maories. Now this circumstance might not have surprised her, as they might have been friendly Maories, but on looking closer, page 212she observed they were all armed with guns. Where she was, she was perfectly concealed from view by the thick foliage, she determined therefore to wait and watch.

Before long, other Maories arrived, also armed, and evidently endeavouring to conceal their movements by always keeping inside the edge of the forest. In fact, if it had not been that the white colour of their blankets contrasted with the green leaves of the trees, Edith would scarcely have been able to make out their forms; as it was, it appeared to her that a group was assembled just opposite where she was, standing apparently in consultation, and that messengers used to go from and return to it, apparently communicating with other parties. Under all the circumstances of the case she was afraid that they must be planning an attack on the house, and she therefore lost no time in returning to it, page 213and informing her father of what she had observed.'

Mr. Mandeville at once perceived the gravity of the situation; he had unfortunately only two men in the house with him, as the other men he employed on his farm lived in a cottage at some distance from it. If he and his family attempted to leave the house, they would of course be captured, and probably, at once killed by the Maories; if, on the other hand, they remained where they were, their fate was almost equally certain, as although he and the two men, having firearms, might defend themselves for a time, they would be sure in the end to be overpowered by numbers. What therefore was to be done? The only chance appeared to be to get a message sent to the neighbouring garrison of Drury; but how was this to be accomplished in the face of the enemy?

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Mr. Mandeville's house was, as we have previously mentioned, situated on a small knoll or slight elevation, a river running round three sides of it, and the garden being on the fourth. Now, it occurred to Mr. Mandeville, that one person might by crouching down, and descending the knoll in the front of the house, and therefore on the side furthest from the garden, reach the river without observation; once in the river, he might creep along under its bank, which was rather high, till he reached a wood a considerable distance down the stream; here, being sheltered from observation by the wood, he might cross, merely keeping his head above water, to a wood on the other side. When he arrived at this wood he could move rapidly to the Great South Road, and obtaining a horse from a settler who lived on it near this point, ride into Drury, and give the alarm.

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This plan was followed, and the messenger appeared to have escaped observation, as no sound was heard by the anxious watchers within the house to indicate that he had been discovered by the Maories.

For some time after the departure of the messenger, the occupants of the house were engaged in making preparations to resist the expected attack of the Maories. The great object, of course, was to delay the entry of the enemy into the house as long as possible, as by that means more time would be given for the arrival of the hoped for succour.

Mr. Mandeville then saw that all the firearms he possessed, consisting of two double-barrelled guns and two revolvers, were in proper order. The man he had with him was a sturdy determined fellow, one of those men who never court danger page 216or rush into it thoughtlessly, but who are prepared to do their duty when it comes to them, and Mr. Mandeville's plan was, if the worst came to the worst, to defend the door as long as he could. It was as well to die fighting as not, as no mercy was to be expected, and both he and all within the house were well aware that once the Maories got in, they would murder all they found there.

When all these things were done, there was nothing left for them but to wait. How slowly the time passed on! No sound was to be heard, no sight to be seen. How dreadful was the long suspense, and the inhabitants of Mr. Mandeville's house knew it must be so long. They were aware that the Maories, not imagining for a moment that their proximity bad been even suspected, would remain perfectly quiet until dark night had set in, and then page 217when they thought that all within the house must he asleep, they would make their attack in the hopes of destroying the inmates before they could make any resistance.

And so the time passed on. The upper part of the house was kept perfectly dark, to enable the inmates to see what was going on outside without being themselves seen; but lights were kept burniug in the lower part in order that the Maories might consider that the family had not yet retired to rest, and thus delay the attack. The night was very dark, there was no moonlight, and only the occasional twinkle of a star here and there; still the frightened watchers in the upper story were able at last to discern dark forms prowling round the house like birds of ill-omen. They approach closer and closer—then they pause.

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They have waited long, but it is evident that they have determined to wait yet a little longer, till their intended victims have retired to rest.

Who can paint the feelings of those within—feelings which have been experienced by many a poor New Zealand settler!

At last the Maories appear to have made up their minds to wait no longer: they approach the door in a cautious stealthy Cat like manner; their leader tries the handle, he finds it fastened; a whisper passes amongst them; then the back door of the house, and all the windows are tried, with a similar result. A pause takes place. Then two Maories advance to the door, bearing a large stone between them to burst it in.

Mr. Mandeville, to cause as much delay as possible, now calls out loudly to know page 219who is at his door? The Maori who apparently acts as chief, replies that they are friendly Maories, and only want a night's shelter. This of course does not deceive Mr. Mandeville; but he only replies, that if they will wait a little while he will go for the key. The Maori, however, does not appear to be inclined to wait, but signs to the men to advance with the stone.

Mr. Mandeville felt that the time for decided action had indeed arrived: he fired with a revolver through a hole near the door, which he had previously made, at one of the Maories bearing the stone. The shot was so close that he could not miss his aim, and the man fell dead, pierced through the heart, whilst the stone descended to the ground with a loud crash; but the Maories were so enraged at the death of their friend that they at once fired a volley through the door, which being old and worm-eaten the page 220shots easily penetrated, and Mr. Mandeville's faithful servant received a graze on the left side of his head, sending the blood into his left eye, and making the poor fellow imagine that he was certainly killed.

But the sound of the volley had apparently reached other ears besides those in the house, as a succession of ringing cheers arose from the road, apparently made by a large number of men advancing to the rescue, with a view of assuring the inmates that aid was at hand

The Maories paused. They were well aware how near the garrison of Drury was, and had only made their attack under the idea that it would be a complete surprise. They never like to fight in open ground, and so without any deliberation they vanished as silently as they had come, and when the foremost of the relieving force had reached page 221the house, they were already within the shelter of the neighbouring woods. Nor did they rest there, as in a day or two it was heard that they had inarched all the night, and before morning were far away from the district.