Maori and Settler: A Story of The New Zealand War

"I am certainly not going to let you pull, and you scarcely out of the doctor's hand," the mate said bluntly. "Why, you must be mad to think of such a thing! Here, do you take the tiller and I will row the stroke-oar. Easy all, lads; put on your jackets. Four of you come aft, and the other two go into the bows."

"I wish we could row," Marion said regretfully, as the new crew bent to their oars. "I have done a lot of rowing at home, Mr. Atherton, and they say I row very fairly."

"I am afraid you would not be of much assistance here, young lady," Mr. Atherton said. "It's one thing to work a light well-balanced oar such as you use in a gig up the river, but it is a very different one to tug away at one of these heavy oars in a sea-going boat like this with ten sitters in her. We shall want all our strength to get back, you may be sure. There must be a strong current against us, and there is little chance of our being back, as we hoped, by dinner-time."

After the men had had half an hour's rest Mr. Ryan told them to take their seats and double bank the oars.

"We shall travel all the faster," he said to Mr. Atherton, "and now that they have got their wind again it is far better that they should be rowing than sitting still. The guns are a good deal nearer now. I do not think that the ship can be more than a mile or a mile and a half away."

"I do not suppose she is," Mr. Atherton replied. "I think I will fire off my rifle two or three times. They ought to be able to hear it now, and it will relieve their minds."

He discharged his rifle four or five times, and they fancied that they heard shots in return.

"Hullo!" Mr. Atherton exclaimed suddenly. "Easy all! Hold her up hard all!" Although the order was entirely unexpected it was given so sharply that it was instantly obeyed, and the boat was brought to a stand-still before she had advanced another length. Then the rowers looked round to see what had been the occasion of the sudden order. In front of them, scarce ten feet away, towered up a dark mass of rock. They could only see it ahead of the boat, and how high it was or how far it extended on either side they knew not.

"Why, what is this?" the mate said in astonishment. "We did not notice any islands as we came along. It has been a narrow escape, for at the rate at which we were going through the water we should have stove in our bow had we run on it."

"We have had a narrower escape than we deserve," Mr. Atherton said. "I cannot think how we can have been so foolish."

"What do you mean?" the mate asked.

"Why we have been steering straight for the guns, have we not?"

"Of course we have."

"Well, we ought not to have done so. If the ship had been lying well out from the land it would have been all right; but she is lying in a deep bay, and of course a straight course to her from the point we started from would take us just where we are, that is ashore, on the other side of the headland."

"Of course it would. We ought to have kept well to seaward of the guns till they bore right on our beam, and then headed in to her. Well, fortunately no harm has been done, but we have had a mighty narrow escape. If the fog had been as thick as it was when it first came down upon us we should have gone right into it before we saw it."

The boat was turned and rowed out to sea for some distance, then they again headed her in the direction in which they wished to go, but keeping the guns well in shore of them until they judged by the sound that they were nearly opposite to her, then they rowed straight towards her. The sound of their oars was heard, and a loud hail informed them of the exact position of the ship, and two or three minutes later a dark image loomed up in front of the boat.

"All well, Mr. Ryan?" the captain shouted.

"All well, sir."

"You have given us a great fright," the captain went on. "We expected you back at least two hours ago, thinking of course you would have returned when the fog set in, even if you had not done so before."

"We had turned, sir, before the fog rolled in; but what with losing our way, and the difficulty of keeping our course in the fog, and the fact that there is, we think, a strong current that was running against us further out, we have been a long time coming back. So, you see, we have double banked all the oars."

By this time they were lying by the gangway. It was found that the girls in spite of their wraps were so stiff with the cold that they had to be assisted up the gangway to the deck. Exercise warmed the blood of the rest, and they were soon on deck. Mr. Atherton, who alone of the men had not been rowing, had some little difficulty in getting up, although, as he said, he had no more right to feel cold than a walrus, protected as he was by nature.

There had been much anxiety on board until the shots fired by Mr. Atherton were heard. The captain had ordered plenty of hot soup to be got ready, and the girls soon felt in a comfortable glow. Mr. Atherton gave a comical account of their adventures, but he did not conceal the fact that at one time their position had been really a perilous one, and that if they had not been pretty vigilant they might have fallen into the hands of the natives.

"Well, all is well that ends well," Mr. Renshaw said, "but I think we will have no more boat excursions as long as we are in the neighbourhood of cannibals. Of course no one could have foreseen the fog coming on so suddenly, but you have evidently all had a narrow escape."

Those who had taken part in the adventure, however, were highly pleased with their share in it, and agreed that although perhaps at the time it was unpleasant it was very exciting, and was an incident that they should never forget all their lives.

The fog continued for three days, at the end of which time an easterly wind set in and the air cleared, and the Flying Scud weighed her anchor and proceeded on her voyage. Ten days later a gale set in from the south. The cold was intense, and the spray as it flew from her bows cased her fore-rigging and deck with ice. The wind increased hourly in fury, and the captain decided to run before it. "We have plenty of sea-room," he said, "and shall get out of this bitter cold as we get further north. It will not last long, I daresay."

Day after day, however, the gale continued, seeming to increase rather than diminish in force. On the morning of the sixth day after it had begun the passengers heard a tremendous crash on deck. Wilfrid ran up the companion and looked out, and reported that the mainmast and the fore-top-mast had gone overboard. Fortunately the gust that had done this damage proved to be the climax of the gale; by nightfall its force had sensibly abated, and two days later it fell to a calm, and all hands set to work to repair damages.

"I have no spar that will be of any use for a mainmast," the captain said. "We must content ourselves with getting up a fore-top-mast and then under what sail we can set upon that and the mizzen make for one of the islands and try to get a good-sized spar for the mainmast. I reckon that we are not more than two hundred and fifty miles from the Austral Group. We have been blown nearly twenty degrees north."

Three days later land was seen ahead, and this the captain, after taking an observation, declared to be Malayta, one of the largest islands of the group.

"I would rather have gone on under this reduced sail," he said to Mr. Atherton, in whom he had great confidence, "if we had been sure of fine weather; but that we cannot reckon upon at this time of year, and I should not like to be caught in another gale in this crippled state so near the islands. So of the two evils I consider it the least to go in and try and get a spar that will do for our purpose."

"What is the evil of going in?" Mr. Atherton asked.

"The natives," the captain replied shortly. "They are a treacherous lot in all these islands; but the Australs bear a particularly bad reputation, and we shall have to be very careful in our dealings with them."

"Well, as we are forewarned they are not likely to take us by surprise, captain; and as with the crew and passengers we can muster a pretty strong force, we ought to be able to beat off any open attack."

"Yes, I think we could do that," the captain agreed. "If I did not think so I would not put in, but would take the chance of our making our way, crippled as we are, to New Zealand. The thing we shall have to guard against is a sudden and treacherous onslaught; the crews of many ships have been massacred owing to carelessness and over-confidence. However, we will not be caught napping, and I therefore hope to get off unscathed."

As they neared the land the passengers were delighted with the aspect of the shore. Groves of trees came down to the very edge of the water; in the interior the land was high, but was covered to the summit of the hills with foliage. As they approached, and the captain gave orders to prepare for anchoring, they could see a number of natives gathered on the narrow strip of sands close to the water. They were waving boughs of trees in token of friendship, and were, as far as could be seen by the aid of a telescope, unarmed.

"They look friendly, mother," Marion said after watching them through the glass. "Won't it be nice to land and take a walk among those feathery-looking trees. There will be no fear of fogs or cold here, the temperature is quite perfect."

"You will not land, I can assure you, young lady," the captain, who was passing by and overheard her, said. "Those fellows look friendly enough, I agree, but there are no more treacherous rascals among the islanders of the Pacific. I shall give them as wide a berth as I can, and get them if possible to cut a spar and tow it out to us, instead of sending a party on shore to fetch it. No one will leave this ship with my permission, unless it be a boat's party armed to the teeth to fetch water. These fellows are as treacherous as the natives of Tierra del Fuego, and vastly more warlike and dangerous."

"Are they cannibals, captain?" Mrs. Renshaw asked.

"That I cannot tell you for certain, Mrs. Renshaw. They are thieves and murderers, but whether they eat human flesh is more than I can tell. It does not concern me greatly whether if they kill me they eat me afterwards or not; but I do not mean to give them the chance of killing me or any of us, I can assure you."

"After the character you have given me of them I have no longer the slightest inclination to land, captain."

As soon as the vessel came to an anchor a number of canoes put out, laden with yams, cocoa-nuts, and other vegetables and fruit for exchange. Had they been allowed they would have come alongside and climbed up to the deck, but the captain would not permit them to come within thirty or forty yards. Although there was no one on board who could speak their language, his emphatic gestures were understood by the natives, and were sufficient to show them that he was not to be trifled with. Two boats only were allowed to approach at a time, and a guard of six sailors with muskets were placed on deck with orders to prevent anyone coming up, and to cover those who descended the gangway. The younger passengers thought that the captain was unnecessarily timid; but ready as he was to oblige them on ordinary occasions, they saw that this time it would be no use to try to change his determination that none should go on shore. Going down the gangway they bargained with the natives, giving little articles in exchange for fruit.

Mr. Atherton was evidently of the captain's opinion as to the necessity for prudence, and had stationed himself with his rifle near the gangway.

"They look quite peaceful and cheerful," Marion Renshaw said to him. "Do you think there is really any use in all these precautions, Mr. Atherton?"

"I do indeed, Miss Renshaw. I do not think one can be too careful when dealing with people who are notoriously so treacherous."

"Are you a good shot with a rifle, Mr. Atherton?"

"Yes; although I say it myself, I am an exceptionally good shot. I have practised a great deal with the rifle, and have, I suppose, a natural aptitude for it; for when I fire I am morally certain of hitting my mark, though I am hardly conscious of taking aim."

When the contents of a few boats had been taken on board the captain made signs that he required no more, and the natives, with looks of evident discontent, paddled back to the shore.

"We shall have some chiefs off in the morning," the captain said. "To-day they have kept in the background, but seeing that we are wary and on our guard they will probably come off to-morrow to view matters for themselves. I shall let them perceive that I am well prepared, and it may be when they see this they will be inclined to do a little honest trading, and to bring off a strong spar with which we can at anyrate make a shift for our mainmast. We will keep watch and watch as if we were at sea. It is as likely as not some of their canoes may be coming out in the night to see if we are to be caught napping."

"It is horrid," Kate Mitford said, as she with her sister, Marion, and several of the younger passengers stood together that evening on the poop looking towards the shore. The young moon was sinking in the west, the stars shone with great brilliancy, and the water was as smooth as glass. The outline of the palms could be made out against the sky, and in several places the light of fires could be perceived, and the stillness of the evening was broken by the hum of distant voices. "It is really a shame that we cannot go ashore. I am sure the savages looked civil and friendly, and it would be delightful to wander about in such a wood as that."

Two or three voices were raised in assent.

"Have you heard the little story of the spider and the fly, Miss Kate?" Mr. Atherton said, moving across from the other side of the deck, where he was smoking a cigar. "In that case, you know, it was the prettiest little bower that ever you did espy, and perhaps the fly admired it just as much as you admire that grove ashore. The result of a visit would be identical in both cases. Those on board other ships have been taken in by the peaceful appearance of the natives and the loveliness of the islands, and the result was fatal to them. Personally, I should feel much more comfortable if I saw those savages putting out in a body in their canoes to attack the ship than I do now while they are keeping up this pretence of friendliness. An open danger one can meet, but when you know that treachery is intended, but have no idea what form it will take or when the mask of friendship will be thrown off, it is trying to the nerves. Fortunately we know their character, and may hope to be ready when the danger comes. Still the waiting is trying."