CHAPTER XI
ONE MYSTERY THE LESS
'The réveillé!' laughed Terence, as he awoke next morning to the cheerful notes of a bugle. 'For a moment I thought that I was back with the old regiment.'
'Oh, the soldier fashion in which we do things here would not disgrace the "old regiment," as you call it,' said George, smiling. 'Your own red coat, by the way, has a suspicious newness about it. Did you sleep well?'
'Never better. Ah, George, old fellow, I owe——'
'Here's breakfast,' broke in George hastily, giving him a mighty smack on the back, to the great delight of Kawainga, Star of the Dawn, who appeared with two satellites, bearing the materials for a substantial breakfast.
Soon they were again upon the march, and Te Karearea, who had taken every precaution against a surprise, jogged peacefully along, smoking a looted cigar, and listening with interest to the story of the youthful adventures of George and Terence, whom he addressed as Mura, or The Blazing One. The name had much the sound of Moore, but it was the appearance of the Irishman, with his red coat and flaming head of hair, which had really suggested the title.
'It is good to hear of such friendship,' the chief said, beaming upon the pair during a pause in their narration. 'Surely Mura will not wish to leave us now that he has found you, Hortoni. Persuade him to stay, my friend.'
George looked him in the eyes and laughed quietly. He translated to Terence, but made no reply to the chief, who did not pursue the subject.
'What did he mean by that remark, George?' inquired Terence as they lay in the shade during the midday halt.
'I can't say exactly, for one never knows what the crafty beggar is up to.' He looked cautiously round, but as no one was near, went on: 'He may even wish you to try and escape, in order to—to——'
'To find an excuse for knocking me on the head,' supplied Terence. 'Then he'll be disappointed, for I'll not leave you—unless escape meant a good chance of helping you out of the trap. In that case I'd go this minute.'
'I am sure you would, dear old fellow!' said George affectionately; 'but we will stick together as long as possible. Only, if the chief does not parole you, then——' He broke off short, staring up at Te Karearea, who had, as usual, approached unobserved.
'It looks as if the rascal possesses the power to render himself invisible at will,' said George disgustedly, when the chief had withdrawn after informing them that the march was about to be resumed. 'We shall have to go warily, Terence; for there is no knowing how much he may have heard.'
'Much good may it do him,' remarked Terence airily. 'And if it comes to knocking on the head——' He bent his arm. The great biceps contracted, bulging out the red sleeve. Let that enormous mass of muscle be extended with the weight of the body behind it, and the fist in front of it would surely trouble somebody's weak nerves.
George smiled. 'Oh, I know what you can do; but a couple of hundred to one is long odds. Meantime, you must not run the risk of offending him; for, remember, he is utterly unscrupulous. In some mysterious way I appear to be necessary to him; but were it otherwise, he would kill me without the slightest compunction. Of that I feel sure. Come! it is time we joined him.'
Four days later, towards sunset, they debouched from the forest through which for the last sixty hours they had toiled wearily along a narrow, difficult track. It had been a terrible journey for the Maoris, but far more so for the white men, and all alike rejoiced when at last the dreadful bush lay behind them, and they beheld the river which alone divided them from the pah which was their goal.
As was usual with the Maori fortresses, the position was one of immense strength. The island plain, at the back of which rose a considerable hill, was a swampy area overgrown with flax, and extended for nearly a mile on every side of the eminence but one, being itself enclosed by a forked ravine, at the bottom of which the river roared and swirled among giant boulders. No doubt, at some far-off day this roughly level plain had itself been covered with forest; but dead and gone generations of Maoris had cleared away the offending wood, so that no one could now approach the pah unobserved. The single side of the hill unflanked by the plain was simply a vast, precipitous rock-face, having for its vis-à-vis the equally precipitous opposing wall of the ravine, into whose depths it dropped a sheer two hundred feet, the twin cliffs forming a cañon through which the river raced on its way to unite again with the main stream.
The place was, indeed, almost inaccessible when once the only approach from the forest was barred. This was merely a rough bridge across the river on the side furthest from the hill, and when the tree-trunks forming this were withdrawn, a handful of men could easily hold the island against an army.
But even were the bridge to be rushed, the ascent of the hill was made difficult by carefully laid trenches and rifle-pits, and, finally, the pah was encircled by a double row of palisades of great height and immense strength, the chinks between the massive logs being filled with hard-baked mud and clay. The palisades were loopholed above, and a rude platform ran along the inner side of each row, where men might lie, secure themselves, and fire upon an advancing foe.
It would indeed be a desperate and determined foe who would venture to attack, much more succeed in taking, the Pah O Te Mate—the Pah of the Slain, the Fortress of Death.
As it happened, the weary travellers were not destined to enter the pah just yet; for as the vanguard swung out of the forest and prepared to cross the hundred yards or so of cleared ground between them and the bridge, they saw a sight which halted them as effectually as though some sudden stroke had robbed their limbs of all power.
But they could not stand still, for those in the rear pressed them on, and presently the little clearing became almost blocked with armed men vainly striving to preserve their customary proud and resolute bearing, and with trembling women who did not attempt to hide their extreme terror.
In the midst of the confusion the voice of Te Karearea was heard angrily demanding the cause of the block, but no sooner had the chief forced his way to the front than he, too, stopped as if compelled, all signs of anger faded from his face, and he stood meek and inoffensive, his hands crossed upon his broad chest, his plumed head bowed low.
And what was the cause of all this fear and commotion? Standing alone at the bridge-head was one old man. His figure was bent, his snow-white hair fell, a tangle of locks, below his shoulders, and the hand which grasped the staff upon which he leaned, trembled as it clutched the crook. Yet there was fire in his rolling eyes, and a hint of mastery, if not of menace, in the gesture with which he flung up his free hand, forbidding the advance; and his voice, far from piping in the thin treble of extreme old age, rang stern and sonorous, as the liquid Maori speech gushed from his venerable lips.
He was Kapua Mangu—the Black Cloud—the Tohunga, and most notable of all the Maori wizards.
At the old man's bidding, Te Karearea advanced and listened respectfully to some words spoken for his ear alone. Then, turning, he rapidly issued an order which sent the warriors tumbling back into the forest, while side by side with the great magician, the chief set off across the plain in the direction of the pah.
'So we are not to enter the fortress to-night,' George explained to Terence as they followed the Maoris. 'According to the old gentleman, a particularly malignant demon has taken up his quarters on the hill, and any attempt to pass him would be fraught with dire peril. To-morrow we are to make a kind of state entry.'
'Which means that the ancient rogue has reasons for keeping us off the hill to-night.'
'Very likely; but it won't hurt us, fortunately. What do you say to supper and early bed?'
'I'm with you there,' agreed Terence, 'for I'm dog tired.'
So they hunted about until they found pretty Miss Kawainga, who soon provided them with an excellent meal, after which they selected a comfortable spot for their bivouac, spread their blankets on the fern, and were quickly asleep.
An hour before midnight something awakened George, and he sat up and looked in all directions for the cause. Everything was profoundly still, and presently he made out that the camp was deserted, not a single Maori being visible anywhere. Wondering sleepily what the chief was about, he noticed that their fire had dwindled a good deal, and, knowing that the early hours of morning would be cold, crept out of his blanket-bag and rose, yawning, to replenish it. Hither and thither he moved, gathering sticks and fern, when suddenly the wood dropped through his hands, he turned cold, and his heart throbbed heavily under his creeping flesh. He drew in a deep breath, and his strong will and high courage fought desperately against the unnerving sensations of the moment. For once again the quiet night was rent by those weird, awful sounds which had so unmanned him during that dreary midnight hour aboard the brig a week ago.
'Hau-hau! Hau-hau! Pai marire, hau-hau! Hau-hau!'
From afar the horrid noises screamed through the shivering forest, mixed now and again with a singular gabble of words which somehow had the sound of English, though the distance made it difficult to judge.
George made a fierce effort to collect himself. Terence had suffered enough already, and for his sake he must not give way. But to his intense surprise he saw the object of his concern sitting up and listening with an expression of deep interest on his face.
'Queer row, isn't it?' said Terence. 'Do you see those lights on the hill behind there? That is where they are. Perhaps this explains the mysterious confab between the chief and the wizard. I vote we go and have a look at them; we may never get another chance.'
George could scarcely believe his ears. The noise which now, as before, so shocked him, was accepted by Terence as something merely interesting. Still, the sight of his friend's unconcern did much to steady his own jumping nerves.
Receiving no answer, Terence looked up. The dying fire added to the ghastliness of George's face. 'Hullo! What is it, old fellow?' he cried, rolling out of his bag. 'Are you ill?'
'I plead guilty to a bad fit of the horrors,' answered George, 'though your coolness is rapidly convincing me that my bogy is not so awful as I imagined it to be. I never was so frightened in my life as when I first heard those terrible sounds at dead of night aboard the brig. I did not speak of it to you when we met, because it had nothing to do with my story. If you know what the noise means, for heaven's sake tell me at once.'
'I thought you knew all about it,' replied Terence. 'The row is horrid, but simple enough in its origin. It is a part of the religious service, or incantation, perhaps I should say, of the Hau-haus.'
'Oh! And who may the Hau-haus be? Men or devils?'
'Men, distinctly; but with a strong dash of the devil in them, too.'
'Are they Maoris?'
'Very much so. The same among whom you have been adventuring this month past. Let us steal back to that hill and lay your ghost for once and all. I'll tell you what I know as we go.'
'I'm with you,' agreed George. 'I'm thankful to have fathomed this uncanny mystery. Hark! They are at it again.' Once more the unholy clamour swelled upon the quiet air.
Even the sentinels had left the camp and gone, presumably, to the hill, where, as they advanced, the friends could see great fires blazing and vomiting clouds of smoke into the blackness of the night. As they went, Terence discoursed in low tones of the rise and progress of the Hau-hau religion, and its effect upon those Maoris who had embraced it.
'I learned what I have told you from a friendly Arawa chief,' he said, as they drew near the ravine which formed the approach to the hill. 'He spun the yarn one night around the camp-fire, and by way of illustration gathered a few of his men and surprised us a little later with a very creditable imitation of the howling which so disturbed you. I must own that, until I knew what it was, I felt far from comfortable.'
'I don't blame you,' said George with a shudder. 'And there have been many converts to Hau-hauism, you say.'
'Plenty; and to-day the Hau-haus are the fiercest and most implacable of our foes. They have some very unpleasant customs, and that nasty yowling, with its blasphemous invocation of the Holy Trinity, is not the least atrocious of them.'
Their cautious march ceased now, and they began to crawl quietly up the side of the ravine, from the plateau above which came the hum of many voices.
'Te Karearea must have joined this sect before he was packed off to Chatham Island,' said George. 'I remember that he said something one day about being a priest among his own people.'
'Hush!' warned Terence. 'I hear them moving just above us.'
They flattened themselves against the side of the ravine and waited their opportunity. Suddenly a succession of yells burst from three hundred lusty throats, and the ground shook to the trampling of the mob as they hurled themselves this way and that in their fierce ecstasy.
'Now is our chance,' whispered Terence, and under cover of the tumult they dragged themselves up the bank and lay flat among the fern at the top.
What a sight met their astonished eyes!