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Chapter XVIII.

When Colonel Bradshaw and Bernard rose on the morning after Jack's capture by the Maoris, they naturally expressed surprise at his absence. At first they shouted his name, thinking he might have wandered away a short distance, having waked earlier than his companions. Then, finding that their shouting was without any reply, Colonel Bradshaw addressed himself to the guides. Three of the men professed to know nothing of Jack Stanley's movements; but the fourth, who was very busy in making preparations for breakfast, and who was the same man who had been so long a time in getting the water on the previous night, and whom the others addressed as “Karee,” answered readily to the Colonel's questions.

“He says,” interpreted Colonel Bradshaw, turning to Bernard—for, of course, the Maori had spoken in his own language—“he says that Jack rose about half an hour page 163 ago, and said he would go in search of something to shoot. He took his gun with him.”

“Yes, his gun is gone,” answered Bernard. “I wish he would make haste. I vote we don't wait breakfast long for him, sir.”

“Oh, of course not! I am not going to stand upon ceremony, I can assure you!” laughed the Colonel; and, as Jack did not make his appearance when breakfast was ready, his friends were as good as their word.

And still the day went on, and it was time to think of moving forward; and, as Jack was yet absent, Colonel Bradshaw became first annoyed at his thoughtlessness—then alarmed.

“Can he possibly have lost his way?” said he.

“Surely, then, he would have fired his gun, in order to let us know where he is,” said Bernard. “And, by-the-way, it is strange that we have not heard his gun during the morning. He might have met with something to shoot.”

“Much more likely he is painting,” said Colonel Bradshaw, “and has, after the manner of artists, become so engrossed with his own performance, that he has forgotten such a vulgar thing as breakfast.”

But shortly afterwards Hope Bernard perceived Jack's painting-box and block amongst the baggage; and then he and the Colonel became alarmed. Colonel Bradshaw questioned afresh Karee. “What had the Pakea said? At what time had he left?”

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But Karee had the very plausible objection that, as he himself could speak no English, and the Pakea Jack could speak no Maori, anything that the Pakea Jack had said had been unintelligible to him. In one thing he was unwavering: that the Pakea had gone off with his gun, and that he had taken the direction along the banks of the river away from the pah, which they had lately quitted.

“Our best course, I should think, then, would be to go forward. Probably Stanley will expect us to overtake him.”

So without any further delay the Colonel and Bernard started, in the hope of overtaking Jack Stanley, by so doing placing each hour between themselves and the object of their search a greater distance.

At the close of that first day, when no trace of Jack Stanley was to be found, Colonel Bradshaw, in real alarm, sat down to consult with Bernard as to what was to be done; and the result of the consultation was a return to the Maori pah, which they had so recently left. There every one likely to know anything on the subject was questioned. The chief, or principal man, really knew nothing about Jack Stanley, and candidly said so, expressing at the same time a wish to help the Pakeas in their search for their friend. Even the old tohunga was questioned, but he was a great deal too cunning to betray himself. And all this while Jack was kept closely shut up in the hut, lest he should be seen by his friends. I need not say that the young Maori slave who had shown an interest in Jack was kept out of the Colonel's way.

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So a day more passed, and came to an end in quite an unsatisfactory manner; and Colonel Bradshaw said to Bernard,

“We can do no good that I can see by remaining here; and yet I hardly know what to do next, and I do not feel half satisfied with regard to that old heathen priest. His tongue seems a great deal too glib. I should not be surprised, after all, if he knew something about Stanley.”

“But what object could he have? What advantage would it be to him to conceal it, if he does know poor Jack's fate?” asked Bernard.

“That I cannot tell,” Colonel Bradshaw replied. “These heathens are sometimes very difficult to deal with, with their prejudices, and their likes and dislikes. Still, I hope he may know nothing of Jack which has to be concealed. I think the next thing for us to do is to return to my place. Jack may have made his way back there, as it is so easy to find by following the bank of the river.”

So, agreeably to the Colonel's suggestion, the party went back to his residence. Of course Jack Stanley was not there, and they seemed to have come to the end of their tether. It appeared as if nothing could be done but make incursions in different directions into the bush in search of him.

Colonel Bradshaw and Bernard were weary of talking over the subject, for suggestions seemed in vain. Bernard no longer cared to proceed on his way to Auckland, at least, for the present; and the interest which Colonel page 166 Bradshaw had felt in his own excursion was so damped by the sadness of Jack's sudden disappearance, that he resolved to give it up until he felt more inclined for pleasure. So some weeks passed away, and Colonel Bradshaw and Bernard were beginning to resign themselves to the thought that their pleasant companion was dead, through some misadventure in the bush, when one morning a young Maori man requested to speak with the Colonel. It was Jack's friend, the slave with the blue eyes; but neither Bernard nor the Colonel recognized him when he was shown into their presence.

Colonel Bradshaw spoke to him in his own language, and during the reply of the New Zealander he evinced considerable emotion; then, at its conclusion, he turned to Bernard and said,

“News of Jack, Bernard, at last. That wretched old sinner, the tohunga, has him prisoner at this moment. We must go at once, without any delay: let us start on the instant.”

You may be sure Bernard was ready enough, and in a very few minutes he and the Colonel, accompanied by the Maori who had brought the welcome news, were on their way, upon this occasion on horseback, in order to lose no time.

So it was that the Pakeas arrived with further inquiries about their friend; and all the inhabitants of the pah were assembled round them, declaring that they knew nothing whatever of Jack Stanley.

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“But where is the old tohunga?” asked several times the Colonel. “I am willing to take your word for it that you are innocent of any treachery to my friend the Pakea. Send for the tohunga, and bid him come here.”

At this moment a succession of the most vehement and frantic screams resounded through the pah.

“What is that?” exclaimed Bernard, starting forward. “I am certain that is Stanley's voice; and they are murdering him.”

The chief of the settlement appeared also startled by the screams, and himself directed one of those standing near to call thither the tohunga. But Karee was beforehand with the chief's messenger, and in a moment after was at the tohunga's hut.

Whether the tohunga thought to persuade the Pakeas of his innocence, as he had imagined he did on the previous occasion, or whether he saw the impossibility of hiding Jack anywhere but in his hut, he made no attempt to avoid the interview with Colonel Bradshaw, but repaired to the publick place to make one of the assembly already there. Perhaps he and his friend guessed pretty clearly that their little game was nearly up, and they may have thought to arrest the end for a time, trusting that, the tohunga's hut being some little way out of the pah, the strangers might not find it, so as to visit it. He could pretty well trust the Maoris under his control to keep any secret which he wished to be kept, even if any of them suspected that he knew more about the Pakea than he chose to page 168 acknowledge. So, being warned of the arrival of Colonel Bradshaw and his friend by the voice which Jack Stanley had recognized as familiar, the two old ruffians stopped suddenly, as we have seen, in their refinement of cruelty, being interrupted in the process of beautifying their prisoner, and, leaving him upon the floor of the hut, joined the assembly in the public place near the cooking-house.

There, as the young Maori stated, they were occupied in telling “plenty lies,” asseverating again and again that they knew nothing whatever of Jack Stanley, and had not set eyes upon him since his departure from the pah, when suddenly, to their extreme surprise and consternation, Jack Stanley himself, whom they had left in the hut bound hand and foot and gagged, stood before them and Colonel Bradshaw and Bernard.

For the first moment the Pakeas did not recognize in this strange-looking figure in the dirty blanket, and with the blood running down his nose, their friend and fellow-traveller; but, as Jack stood looking from one to the other, Bernard called him by his name, and held out his hands towards him.

Then Jack to whom the whole scene seemed unreal and insecure, for he had hardly understood or believed what the Maori slave had said to him—threw himself upon Bernard's neck, and, losing all self-control, burst into tears.

He was weak from the hardships and privations he had lately undergone; but had he not been, I think there is no apology needed for his emotion.

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The two tohungas stood aghast at Jack's sudden apparition; and Colonel Bradshaw turning quickly and catching sight of the original priest of the pah, seized him roughly by the shoulder, exclaiming,

“So you did know, after all, what had become of him, you old villain! I suspected all along that you were at the bottom of this. You may rest assured of one thing: I will report you to Government as soon as ever I arrive in Wellington.”

The tohunga made no answer, excepting by a scowl at Colonel Bradshaw, in which Jack had a share, and submitted quietly to the shaking which the Colonel gave him before loosing his hold.

Then the chief of the village spoke rapidly and earnestly, looking, as he did so, half in anger—half in fear—towards the tohunga every now and then. Bernard turned to the Colonel, asking what the man said.

“He is telling me that it is quite without his knowledge that Jack has been in the pah; he has been quite as much misled as we have been; and I believe he speaks the truth. But it is a difficult position for him: he is afraid of the spiritual power of that old ruffian, and dare not punish him personally, lest the tohunga should invoke the devil to punish him for his sacrilege.”

“I vote we take the punishment of him into our own hands,” said Bernard. “Let us tie him up to a tree, and give him a good flogging.”

“Well, I should very much enjoy assisting at the ceremony page 170 myself, I must confess,” replied Colonel Bradshaw; “but perhaps it would be unwise. There is hardly telling to what a length the vindictiveness of an old heathen like that may go. He has certainly been actuated by revenge in taking our friend Jack prisoner. —Why say you, Stanley?”

“I am quite sure of it, sir,” Jack answered: “he has said as much; and, for my own part, my chief desire is to get away from this place as soon as possible. I will forego the pleasure of seeing the tohunga flogged for the present; but I should like to make him give up my clothes and gun. I do not care to leave him the pleasure of making an object of himself in my apparel, while he compels me to be another in this old mat.”

The Colonel, who with the others had been talking in a low voice hitherto, now raised it, and said, in the Maori language, that he insisted upon all the Pakea's property being restored to him. He appealed to the justice of the chief. Thereupon ensued a long talk between various of the Maoris, which resulted at length in the tohunga producing Jack's things—which, no doubt, he had hoped to be able to appropriate to his own use.

Then the Colonel shook hands with the chief, who looked rather crestfallen and annoyed at the state of things, and several others of the Maoris; and he and his friends and followers left the pah.

No sooner were they clear of the houses and huts, than Jack said,

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“Let me have my clothes, and get rid of this dirty mat.” But when he had rid himself of the mat, he said, “I wish I knew how to return it to the good fellow who lent it me, or how to repay him for letting me free. I do not know his name: he is that young fellow whom I sketched, who, you said, was a slave.”

Colonel Bradshaw spoke to one of his servants, and then answered Jack:

“Marāra is his name.”

“Cannot I send back this rug to him?” asked Jack; “it may be of value in his eyes.”

Colonel Bradshaw debated by whom to send back the mat. Then presently he said,

“I fear we might get the man into trouble, perhaps, if the old priest discovers that he has helped you.”

“I cannot see how he can avoid being discovered,” Jack said, “for he is servant to the priest; and he and a girl who was about there were almost the only people who saw me. The tohunga's hut is away from the others amongst the trees.”

“Better hang the mat upon a tree, and trust to Marāra's finding it,” said the Colonel.

Jack did not half like this plan, nor leaving the neighbourhood without in any way acknowledging Marāra's services; but there seemed no alternative, and the mat was suspended to the bough of a tree and left.

The following morning, as the travellers were about page 172 starting afresh, suddenly, without any warning, Marāra stood before them. He was dressed in his old mat.

“You dear, good fellow!” exclaimed Jack, starting forward at sight of him, and grasping his hand. He would have said more, but we cannot generally speak when we are feeling strongly, and he stood holding the man's hand and looking at him in silence.

Colonel Bradshaw suspected that the new-comer had something to say, and he advanced, asking, “What is it, Marāra?”

Marāra told him, in his own language, that, after what had taken place, he could no longer remain in the pah, nor in the neighbourhood of the tohunga, and that he requested to be allowed to join the Pakeas, at least for a time.

Upon hearing this, Jack declared that Marāra should be his companion for as long as he liked—for the rest of his life if he liked; and Marāra, half understanding what was said, answered that he would be servant to the Pakea, and, upon the strength of the new bond between them, at once proposed carrying Jack Stanley's baggage.

Jack had a great deal to tell to his friends of the incidents of his captivity, and a great many questions to ask of Marāra relative to events which he did not understand. It seemed that Karee, the heathen guide who travelled with Colonel Bradshaw, and who was entirely under the influence of the tohunga through the means of his superstitious fears, had been the traitor. It was he who had page 173 led Jack's captors to the place where he had been sleeping the night before his friends lost him; it was he who had reported that, through his false information, the Pakeas had taken a wrong direction, away from the pah; it was he who had warned the tohunga upon the return of Colonel Bradshaw in search of Jack, in time for Jack's escape, but not in time for the seizing of Marāra, as Karee had advised, for the latter's acute intelligence had discovered the part Marāra had taken in striving to regain Stanley's freedom.

“What would the tohunga have done to you, had he caught you?” asked Jack.

“He kill me I not think,” answered Marāra, “he finding me much use, perhaps; but tohunga cruel old man: he not Christian.”

“You mean he would have put you to some torture or other, I suppose?” said Jack.

Marāra nodded.

“What makes that fellow so unlike the other Maoris?” asked Jack of Colonel Bradshaw: “he has positively blue eyes, and is not at all dark.”

“He comes from the interior of the island,” answered the Colonel; “you will see men and women there who are as fair as Europeans. This man has been taken prisoner by the tribe we have just left in one of their fights. I dare say the poor fellow is glad of the chance which enables him to get away.”

“I wonder, though,” said Bernard, after a pause, “that page 174 the old tohunga was not afraid of discovery, and of the punishment likely to come upon him for capturing and maltreating an Englishman.”

“The heathen Maoris are very ignorant of the power of the English; and the New Zealanders have a great feeling of hatred towards ourselves: although the feeling is very usually concealed, you may be sure it will burst out sooner or later. I was walking not long ago with a friend who knew the natives well; and he argues that, before many years, the natives will revolt against the English in the island. This feeling does not show itself in the interior of the island; it is amongst those Maoris who live nearest to the English settlements that it is felt.”

“Which is not very complimentary to us,” said Jack Stanley, laughing, “for it seems as if the nearer view they have of us, and the more they know of us, the less they like us.”

“The old proverb,” returned the Colonel: “too much familiarity breeds contempt.”

The next thing which occupied the attention of the travellers was the future treatment of Karee, and what course to pursue with regard to him, formed the matter of a long talk; but Colonel Bradshaw and his friends might have saved themselves the trouble of debating what to do with the traitor; for a few hours later, when the party halted to rest, Karee was nowhere to be found. He had evidently seen that his game was played out with regard to the Pakeas, and that it would be safer and more page 175 politic for him to be absent when wanted. No doubt he had returned to the pah, and attached himself to his friend, the tohunga.

I may as well mention here, before discussing the subject, that some years later than this time of my story, when the Maoris revolted in the neighbourhood of Wellington, the old tohunga took part in an attack of the natives upon an English gentleman's country house, and that the cruel old man was killed, and his body left dead in the plantation by his friends.