Utu: A Story of Love, Hate and Revenge
Chapter XVII. Snatched from the Jaws of Death—‘Kapai Te Wai Piro! Homai Te Kai.'
Chapter XVII. Snatched from the Jaws of Death—‘Kapai Te Wai Piro! Homai Te Kai.'
.‘Kapai te wai piro! Homai!’ (Very good is the stinking water! Give me some!)
Of course his lingo was much less comprehensible than Dutch to the Frenchmen, but his gestures were intelligible enough, and a fellow-feeling sharpening their perceptions, they at once jumped to the right conclusion, and pleased to find in a savage evidence of such susceptibility to civilizing influences, hastened to give him enough cognac to have choked an ordinary Christian. The doctor reprimanded them sharply when he next examined the patient's pulse, but neither he nor they foresaw (how could they?) the ultimate consequences of thus carly implanting Christian tastes in a heathen breast. The heathen, however, continued to make rapid strides towards convalescence, and soon showed himself possessed of a most capacious maw to which very little in the shape of food came amiss.
But though Taranui thus repaid the doctor's efforts on his behalf, his companion, known among his people, as subsequently appeared, by the name of Naku-roa (long scratch), seemed to defy every endeayour to page 82 resuscitate him, and the shades of evening found him still unconscious of the indefatigable médecin's devotion.
‘If Monsieur le docteur will permit me,’ spoke a voice in that gentleman's ear, as with incredible patience he was for the ninety-ninth time feeling for a pulse, ‘I have a remedy which I believe would restore Monsieur's patient.’
The voice was low and insinuating, and the speaker was Arnaud, Monsieur d'Estrelles' valet.
‘Indeed my friend! And what may that be?’ queried the doctor, incredulously.
‘I have it here, Monsieur,’ and Arnaud handed him a small metal case containing a phial.
The doctor look it, removed the stopper, looked at the contents, smelt it, and then handing it back, exclaimed impatiently:
‘Rubbish! as I might have known. Begone, sir; you are too officious.’
‘Nay, then, Monsieur, believe me, it will surely restore him if he be not already dead.’
‘He is not dead, rascal. But since you are so pertinacious, where got you the stuff?’
‘It was given me, Monsieur, by one skilled in medicaments, and it will restore life even at the last gasp, unless, indeed, the system be quite worn out.’
‘H—m. Well, my friend, if it be not “warranted to kill” you may administer it, forpardieu! I can do no more. But have a care, villain, for should it fail, pardieu! I shall give you a dose out of the same bottle for your presumption.
A gleam shot from behind the valet's eyeshades, but he only answered quietly; ‘C'est bien, Monsieur.’
Then mixing a few drops of the tincture in a little water, he gently raised the prostrate Maori's head, and carefully administered it. Whatever it was it proved a very elixir vitæ, at once quickening the almost imperceptible pulsations of the dying savage. In a few minutes a movement of the limbs was followed by a quivering of the eyelids and parched lips, and before long a pair of dark languid eyes opened wonderingly upon the strange figures clustering round in the gathering gloom.
‘He'll do,’ cried the doctor, joyfully. ‘But, pardieu! Arnaud, you must give me that phial.’
‘It desolates me to disoblige you, Monsieur,’ replied Arnaud, softly.
‘What, you refuse me? Come, my good Arnaud, I will reward you handsomely.’
‘Cest bien, Monsieur. But it is impossible.’
Further negotiation was abruptly ended by Naku-roa, who, though 100 weak to uplift himself, had all at once become very much alive, and prompted by the cray ngs of a flat stomach, had found tongue.
page 83‘‘Homai te kai,’ he articulated in guttural accents rolling his hungry eyes round upon the inquisitive bystanders. ‘Te kai, homai.’
‘He wants food,’ cried petit Jean. ‘Kai is the Maori name for food.’
‘Ha!’ laughed the doctor, rubbing his hands. ‘He'll do. Now, my friend Arnaud, I'll leave him in your hands. You recalled him to life. he shall be your patient, and we shall see how you get on. But mind you, not too much food: he'll gorge if you let him—and—perhaps eat yourself if you don't. Ha! ha! I wish you joy of your task. mom bon garcon. He's a huge monster, a real giant. and hungry as a shark. 'Tis said the Maori is a man-eater. Ha! ha! You have called back to life a wolf: let us hope he will devour you. But I am tired. I must have a promenade and a cigar. Au revoir, mon ami.’
And laughing pleasantly to himself at his very cheerful suggestions. Monsieur le docteur skipped away to join the groups see-sawing on the quarter deck.
* This weapon, more often formed of greeustone; was known among the natives as a mere, prououuced mary.