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Amongst the Maoris: A Book of Adventure

Chapter XVII

page 154

Chapter XVII.

A Friend In Need.

So Jack Stanley was not much better off than before, excepting that he knew the tohunga had no intention of letting him die of starvation, at least; and the next time he was taken out to work, he made no resistance, thinking wisely that the more quietly he submitted, the more he would disarm suspicion on the part of his master.

So hour after hour he worked in the hot sun—happily it was not the height of summer—revolving continually in his mind these same thoughts again and again: to get free of the cord which bound him, to make his way to the hut, to secure his blanket, gun, and shot-belt, and to escape from the pah. These ideas were always in his brain, by night as well as by day, until he would wake out of his troubled sleep, scarcely knowing whether they were things which had been done, or whether he had still all this to attempt and do; but the rope which yet tied his arms and page 155 legs by night soon brought poor Jack back to a knowledge of his existing position.

The tohunga, in order to guard against any recurrence of revolutionary ideas on the part of his prisoner, had fastened him by means of a long rope, attached by one end to his ankle, to a neighbouring tree, still sitting himself in full view of him, prepared for any emergency. Still, the old man might go to sleep, might have a sunstroke, or even might die. It never entered into Jack Stanley's calculations that he could possibly remain for always a slave to the heathen priest.

Things had gone on in this way for several weeks, when Jack was made aware of a commotion in the pah. He was not led out to his work so early in the day as usual, and when the tohunga entered the hut he was accompanied by another man. This other man was by no means unlike the old priest in appearance, being also extremely ugly and very much tattooed. In fact, he was, what he looked like, the tohunga of a neighbouring village. In his hand this man held several sharp-pointed instruments and two or three small earthernware pots, all of which he carefully laid upon the ground.

At their first entrance Jack Stanley, who was seated with his back supported by the wall of the hut, looked at them with some interest as a new element in the monotony of his daily life; but when the tohunga, with his usual brief though not courteous style of address, turned to him, saying, “Now, then, Dirt! you ready?” Jack found that page 156 their business was with himself, and it flashed across his mind, with a sensation which turned him sick, that these horrible old men were about to tattoo him.

“I will never submit to it willingly—never so long as I have the sense or power to struggle and resist, if they kill me for it,” thought he.

The tohunga, perhaps, partly divined what was passing in his mind; for he said, attempting to imitate Jack's manner,

“‘Look, sir! horrible ol’ objeck!' Ah! ha! Pakea be horrible ol' objeck too.”

It was what Jack had remarked to the Colonel on the first sight of the tohunga.

The two men then proceeded to tie Jack's ankles and knees, and to bind his arms to his sides, in spite of all his struggles; for they were two against one, and he was already a prisoner. Jack argued in his own mind the advisability of screaming, but he felt sure that the tohungas had provided against such a movement on his part, as he could hear no sound anywhere near the hut. They thought their victim lay very still and unresisting after they had laid his head in a good position, and the stranger priest stooped to select from his instruments the proper knife, when Jack, by a sudden muscular action, flung himself over upon his face.

“They may tattoo my back, if they will,” he said to himself; “but they shall not get at my face without trouble.”

The two old men rushed to either side of him to turn page 157 him over; but even the two combined could not do it in spite of his resistance without some loss of time, during which period, Jack, thinking if he did holloa, now would be the time, set up such a succession of horrible yells and shrieks, as must have been heard a long distance from the hut.

The tohungas succeeded in getting him once more upon his back, and their first action upon doing so was to place in his mouth a short piece of wood, which effectually served as a gag; the next, for his old friend—or, rather, enemy—to seat himself upon Jack's chest, thus effecting the double object of keeping him still and nearly stifling him at the same time.

Jack Stanley felt as if there was nothing left for him but submission—submission to be branded and disfigured for the rest of his life. His head reeled with the thought of what unknown horrible torture these two old men might subject him to—torture which, he felt sure, in the vindictiveness of their nature, they would not spare; and he watched the other tohunga once more advance with the sharp knife in his hand. He seemed to have the grin of a demon upon his face, to the eyes of Jack, as with slow deliberate manner he prolonged the suspense of the victim, by addressing remarks to his brother demon, as he waved the knife about above the features he was about to spoil.

It seemed as if the crucial moment had arrived, and the knife descended to Jack's face. He felt the old man page 158 make a sharp long incision down one side of his nose, and he was preparing to do a corresponding injury upon the other, when an object appeared in the opening of the hut which caused him to stop, with his instrument still raised in the air.

Jack could see nothing from where he lay; but he was thankful that at least here was an interruption. Evidently something had happened, for there was a strange voice, in whose speech Jack recognized the word “pakeas” several times. But for him—what could he do? He was powerless either to move or speak.

Shortly the old tohunga rose from his seat upon Jack's stomach, and talked volubly, as if something had once more occurred to upset his temper. Then he and his friend and the new-comer—whoever he might have been —left the hut, and Jack lay alone, with the blood trickling down from his nose, and running into the corners of his open mouth.

The voice which had spoken to the tohungas, and had caused their timely departure, so as to save Jack Stanley's personal beauty, seemed familiar to him. He could not recall where and when he had heard it, nor could he understand why it brought to his mind the thought of Hope Bernard and Colonel Bradshaw; but that it had done so, at the moment he had heard it, was certain. Yet, had the sudden interruption made by this man, whoever he might be, saved Jack from the horrible process of tattooing? The prospect of being so disfigured appeared page 159 to him more repulsive now as he lay quietly waiting the return of his torturers, than even it had done when actually under their hands.

Whilst thus waiting and watching, he became aware that once more some one beside himself was in the hut, and he resigned himself to his fate. But it was neither of the old priests who entered, and came and stood by the side of Jack; but the young Maori slave, who had, on a former occasion, promised to be his friend. He looked very much excited, and spoke rapidly, and his English was not made more intelligible by his doing so.

“Time—time—coming—come,” said he, kneeling down beside Stanley, and hurriedly unfastening the ropes which bound him. “Pakeas here—no going without this PakeaPakea go out quick—now time come.” But finding that Jack gave him no answer, he glanced at his face, and for the first time perceived that he was gagged, and quickly removed the piece of wood which prevented him from speaking.

“Where are the two old men?” asked Jack, as soon as he could articulate.

Tohungas talk with Pakeas,” answered the Maori, nodding vigorously. “Tohungas talk and tell big big lies: saying, no see this Pakea.

The truth flashed upon Jack.

“Do you mean to say, my good fellow,” exclaimed he, seizing the Maori with his disengaged hand, “that the Colonel and Bernard are here? that my friends are here?”

page 160

“Yes, yes, Pakea's friends, asking for Pakea. Tohungas telling plenty lies.”

“Oh, untie me! untie me quick. Have you no knife to cut these cords?” said Jack; but he had perforce to resign himself patiently to the cords being united.

But at length he was free, and standing up, he turned to seize some clothes, in which to dress himself.

“Where are my clothes?” he asked; for the things had disappeared.

Pakea not wait for clothes: Pakea come,” said the Maori; each time he mentioned Jack as “Pakea,” indicating him by touching him upon the chest. Then going down upon all fours, he crawled from the hut.

Jack quickly followed.

At some distance from the hut, he saw a crowd of people. Evidently there was a consultation going on: speeches were being made.

“Go go,” said the Maori. “Pakea's friends there.”

But how could Jack present himself before the assembled multitude as he stood, without a vestige of clothing? He turned to his friend:

“If I had only a blanket or a mat.”

Then man quickly stripped himself, and held the dirty mat he had been wearing to Jack. It was dirty, but there was no choice but to gratefully accept it; and a moment afterwards, Jack was hastening in the direction of the crowd.

So engrossed was he by the excitement of the moment, page 161 that he did not notice that his kind friend in need, the young Maori, who had even stripped himself in his service, did not accompany him; but, after gazing for a moment after Jack's receding figure, he turned away, and disappeared amongst the thickly-growing trees of the forest.