Chapter VI.

When Emily and Jane went out as usual to drive home the cows, and did not find them, they naturally thought that they had only strayed a little way, and following them, in a short time found them feeding in a rich pasture, which they had discovered for page 56 themselves. The girls were much pleased at this, and were calculating how much more milk the cows in consequence would give, when they found themselves surrounded by a fierce-looking set of strange Maories. They shrieked and tried to run away, but were soon overtaken, and given to understand that they must go along with their captors. Having got over their first alarm, their presence of mind returned, and they saw that their best chance of escaping was to be cool and collected.

“If I see a chance of running, I'll give you a sign, Miss Emily, and we'll run together,” said Jane. “I'll not go along with these ugly blackamoors if I can help it.”

Twice they accordingly made the attempt, but were overtaken, and were after that so narrowly watched, they lost all hope of getting away. The last time, however, that they attempted to run, they were overtaken by a young man, who had a far more pleasant countenance than had most of his companions.

“Do not be afraid,” he whispered in very fair English; “you have a friend near who will die sooner than that harm should come to you; only come on as if you had no fear.”

These words revived the hopes of the two girls, and they no longer hesitated to accompany their captors. Their chief anxiety arose from thinking of the alarm Major and Mrs. Parry would feel for their absence; and Jane had a notion that Peter also would be made very unhappy. As night came on, they stopped, when a large fire was lighted, and several page 57 huts with boughs and grass were quickly built round it; one was devoted to them, and they observed that the young Maori who had spoken to them sat himself down near it, as if to keep watch over them. The Maories now produced a sheep which they had carried off, and this, with some sweet potatoes and other vegetables which they had carried in baskets on their backs, were put into an oven, which they quickly dug in the ground. The feast was soon prepared, and Emily and Jane very wisely did not refuse to partake of it; in truth, they had had no supper, and now that their alarm had subsided, they were very hungry. The Maories sat up eating round the fire till every part of the sheep was consumed. Providentally they had no spirits with them, or the more savage part of their nature would have been aroused, and it is impossible to say what mischief they would have done. They had already attacked one small farm, but only carried off provisions. Little did the owner think, when he resolved to abstain from spirituous liquors, of the evil he was preventing. Gorged with their food, the Maori warriors slept soundly and long, and the sun was already rising in the sky before they awoke. Even then they did not hurry themselves. They thought that the white men would not be able to find their tracks, and besides, there were so few of them that they did not fear an attack. It was late, therefore, when they reached the pah. Old Moodewhy did not tell his son that he knew what he had been about, but let him tell his own tale, which, in the page 58 eyes of the old warrior, did not much redound to his credit.

“And you have got some cows, that is well. But what are you going to do with the maidens?” asked the father.

“Marry one of them; she is fairer than Yeda,” answered the young man.

“A useful wife she would make a Maori, indeed,” answered the father scornfully. “Those pale-face girls know nothing and can do nothing. They can neither work in the fields, nor draw water, nor hew wood, nor make mats. However, you can think of that by-and-by. Is this all you have done to drive the English into the sea?”

The young warrior made no answer to this question, but said that he was very hungry, and must get his sister to cook him some pig and potatoes.

“Yes; and in the mean time she will take charge in her own hut of those two maidens you have carried off,” said the old chief.”

To this Matangee agreed; indeed it must be owned that he was somewhat indifferent about his captives. He and most of his tribe thought much more of the easy capture of the cows, and they proposed slaughtering and eating one of them in honour of the deed, Instead, however, one of the oxen carried off from the farm of poor John Brown, the small farmer who has been spoken of, was killed and a great feast prepared. All the ovens in the pah were prepared with red hot stones, and in a short time numberless baskets of rich stews smoking hot were ready to be page 59 eaten. One thing is certain that the meat was far better cooked than that of an ox roasted whole in Old England; and this Emily and Jane could not help acknowledging, when Madu brought them in a delicate piece which she had selected for that purpose. The would-be warriors eat and eat on in spite of their supper on the previous evening, but they had now a good many more people to help them. At last every particle of poor John Brown's ox had disappeared. All the time they talked away of the brave things they had done, and the still braver that they would do; indeed, had the English settlers heard them, they would have had cause to tremble for their safety. The only person who said nothing was the young man who had spoken to Emily and Jane. He at last rose and left the circle, and though Matangee and others called after him he refused to return.

“Oh let him go; since he has visited the missionaries he is no longer fit to be called a Maori,” said Matangee scornfully.

The feast was still going on, not only the ox but various other dishes having been prepared, when a band of warriors as a deputation from another tribe, arrived to invite Moodewhy's people to join them. Had they come empty handed they would have done no great harm, but they brought in their baskets several bottles of rum with which to enforce their arguments. The effect may easily be supposed, old Moodewhy himself, who had hitherto been silent and dignified, began to talk and boast as loudly as his son, and very soon let out that Yeda was in the page 60 pah, and that she had come to assist the English prisoners. At first Matangee did not hear this, and it was not till the old chief had rolled over, and lay senseless on the ground, that his son was told what his father had said. At that moment many of the visitors, as well as the young men of the tribe, seizing their clubs, began to dance their savage war-dance, flourishing their weapons, keeping step together, and shrieking out in the most terrific tones, defiance at their enemies. As Matangee was considered an adept at this dance, he could not resist the temptation of putting himself at the head of the dancers; though amid his other cries, he let it be known that he intended to make one of his prisoners his wife, according to the old Maori custom, in spite of her objections or what the missionaries might say. A stranger witnessing the spectacle would not have supposed they were human beings who were leaping and shrieking in that frantic manner, but rather a band of evil spirits, who had been allowed to give vent to their passions on earth. Now some of them fell down overcome with liquor, while others rushed off in all directions round the pah, and several met and fought, believing that they had encountered somo enemies of their tribe.

Matangee had just sense enough to make his way to his sister's hut, expecting to find there Yeda and his English captives. The door was closed. He and his companions speedily forced it open and rushed in. There was no shriek nor cry, but at the farther end were some female forms crouching on page 61 the ground. With a shout of triumph Matangee sprang forward. What had seemed like figures were merely some female garments piled up, perhaps for the purpose of deceiving any chance intruders. Matangee now rushed round the pah, examining every hut and shrieking out Yeda's name. Neither she nor his sister nor the English girls were to be found. It became at last clear, even to his confused mind, that they had escaped from the pah.

“We will pursue them and bring them back. They, mere girls as they are, shall not play off their tricks on us,” he exclaimed, calling on his companions to follow him. With their muskets in their hands, a formidable band rushed down the path from the pah. It was reported to Matangee that the fugitives had not gone alone, but had been accompanied by his cousin, of whom he had already good cause to be jealous. This enraged him still more, and with fearful cries of vengeance he and his companions hurried along the road they supposed the fugitives had taken.

Emily and Jane were very thankful when Yeda and her friend entered the hut where they were placed. Yeda told them that they would be in no danger in the pah, but that it would be prudent, after resting for some hours for them to make their escape. This they could easily do with the assistance of Madu's cousin Amoco, the Christian youth whom they already knew. This reassured them, and they were beginning to think the adventure rather an amusing one, when the cries of the savages carousing reached their ears. Their fears were increased by the arrival of Amoco, page 62 who told them the threats which Matangee and his companions were uttering.

At length Yeda exclaimed that the only means of securing their safety was by flight. With Amoco's assistance they soon made an outlet at the back of the hut, and from thence they could escape to one of the gates of the pah without being perceived by the revellers. Their best chance of safety was now by rapid flight. Could they have found horses they might easily have distanced their pursuers; but no horses could be caught without their running the risk of being seen from the pah. On they went.

“Faster, faster, my friends,” cried Amoco. “There are sounds from the pah which make me fear that our flight has been discovered. Poor Emily, already tired with her long walk of the previous day, felt ready to drop, and Jane was not much better. Yeda and Madu, more accustomed to exercise, were able to help them; but even they could scarcely have kept up running for any length of time. Still encouraged by Amoco, they continued their flight. At length, after going some distance, they reached a height, whence looking back, they could see the pah. Already at some distance from it they saw a band of warriors rushing tumultuously towards them. It seemed scarcely possible that they should escape, still they hurried on. The cries of their pursuers sounded louder and louder in their ears. They even fancied that they could distinguish the voice of Matangee vowing vengeance on them. Had the savages fired, perhaps not one of the fugitives would have escaped; page 63 but, though mad enough with drink to commit any atrocity, they felt too sure of overtaking them to think of so doing. The savages sprang forward, the four girls and their companion were not a hundred yards in advance, when the latter saw before them, on rounding a projecting cliff under which they were passing, a large body of Maories with several English-men at their head. Emily recognised her father, and gaining fresh strength, rushed forward, crying out, “Oh, save me, save me!” The Christian Maories opened to let the fugitives pass, and then stood firm to receive the attack of the savages. Shots were exchanged. One of the first killed was Matangee, and his followers, seeing him fall, took to flight. Toi Korro's party would have followed, and probably have cut them to pieces, but Major Parry called them back. “They are your countrymen and our fellow-subjects. Let them go home and have time to discover their folly,” he said.

It was a happy day, when, escorted by their Maori friends, Emily and Jane, with the major and his three staunch servants returned to Holmwood. Yeda married Amoco, who, forsaking his own heathen tribe, came to reside with Toi Korro, as did Madu; her father having been killed in a fight, into which he was drawn. Peter, not long after, married Jane, and both still continued in the major's service.

The war between the heathen natives and the white settlers was carried on for a long time after this; and though there was often fighting close to Holmwood, and many of the other settlers left their page 64 farms and went over to Nelson or quitted the country the major with the help of Allan, Peter, and Tim Grogan, held his own, and is now one of the most successful settlers in that part of New Zealand.

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