Maori and Settler: A Story of The New Zealand War

"I am very glad that I was able to be of some little service, Mr. Renshaw. It is quite as pleasant, you know, to be able to aid as it is to be aided, so we will look upon the obligation as mutual. Wilfrid has invited me to take up my quarters here for a day or two until my shanty is put in order again."

"It would be a pleasure to us if you would take up your abode here permanently," Mr. Renshaw said as Mr. Atherton dismounted from his horse and the two men rung each other's hands warmly. "Jack, take the two horses round to the shed. And now come in. Fortunately dinner is just ready, and I have no doubt you are ready too."

Wilfrid was struck with the change that had come over his father since he had been away. He looked better and stronger than he had ever seen him before, and spoke with a firmness and decision quite new to him. Mr. Renshaw, finding the whole responsibility of the farm upon his shoulders, had been obliged to put aside his books and to throw himself into the business with vigour. At first the unusual exertion involved by being out all day looking after things had tried him a good deal, but he had gained strength as he went on, and had even come to like the work. The thought that his wife and Wilfrid would be pleased to find everything going on well had strengthened him in his determination to stick to it, and Marion had, as far as the house work allowed her, been his companion when about the farm, and had done her best to make the evenings cheerful and pleasant. They had had a terribly anxious time of it during the week between the arrival of the news of the massacre at Poverty Bay and Mrs. Renshaw's return; but after that their life had gone on quietly, although, until the news of the capture of Te Kooti's fortress had arrived, they had naturally been anxious about Wilfrid's safety.

"You are looking wonderfully well and sunburnt, father," the lad said as they sat at dinner.

"Your father has been out from morning until night, Wilfrid, managing the farm," Mrs. Renshaw said with a glad smile, "and I do think the exercise has done him a great deal of good."

"I am sure it has, mother," Wilfrid agreed. "I am afraid the book has not made much progress, father, since I have been away."

"It has made no progress at all, Wilfrid, and I do not suppose it ever will. Science is all very well when a man can afford to make it his hobby, but I have come to the conclusion that a man has no right to ride a hobby while his family have to work to make a living."

"But we were all glad to work, father," Wilfrid said. "And now I am back again there is no reason why you should not return to your work."

"No, Wilfrid. I have been selfish a great deal too long, and indeed, now that I have broken myself into an active life out of doors, I have at present, at anyrate, no inclination to take to the pen again. I feel better than I have done for years, and am astonished myself at the work I can get through. As to my appetite, I eat twice as much as I used to, and really enjoy my food. Since the day we heard of the failure of the bank the burden has all been on your shoulders, Wilfrid, and your mother's. I am going to take my share of it in the future. As to the book, someone else must write it. I do not suppose it would ever have really paid. I almost wonder now how I could have thought that I out here could have derived any satisfaction from knowing that my work was praised by scientific men at home; besides, to do it properly a man must live among the natives, must travel all over the island and gather the traditions current in every tribe. That I could not do, and if I could have no inclination for it. I have been thinking that I shall ask Mr. Atherton to teach me a little botany, so that I can enjoy a little more intelligently than I can now do the wonders of our forest."

"That I will gladly do, Mr. Renshaw. I am sure it would add greatly to the enjoyment of your life here to become acquainted with the secrets of the marvellous vegetation around. It is extraordinary to me that men should be content to remain in ignorance of the names of even the principal trees and shrubs that meet their eye at every turn. There is not one settler in a hundred can tell you the names of a score of trees in the island. While I have been away I have tried to get the native names of many of the trees that are mostly to be met with, and only in one or two cases could I get any information, although some of the settlers have been living for years among them."

"And now, Mr. Atherton, about what I was saying just now, do not you think it would be more pleasant for you to erect a fresh hut close to ours instead of living by yourself away in the woods? It would be a great pleasure to all of us to have you with us. Your society would brighten our life here. We should have the assistance of your rifle in case the natives broke out again. You would, of course, live with us, but you would have your own hut to retire to when you liked to be alone. What do you say?"

"I say that it is a very kind offer, Mr. Renshaw, and it would certainly be very much more pleasant for me than living out there by myself at the mercy of a native cook. On the condition that you will allow me to pay my share of the expenses of housekeeping I will gladly accept your offer."

"The expenses of housekeeping are next to nothing, Mr. Atherton," Mrs. Renshaw laughed; "but if you make it a condition we must of course agree to your terms, and you shall be permitted to pay your quota to the expenses of the establishment; but I warn you that the amount will not be a heavy one."

"Heavy or light, I shall be glad to pay it, Mrs. Renshaw. The arrangement would be a delightful one for me, for although as a traveller I have necessarily been much alone, I am a gregarious animal, and fond of the company of mankind."

And so two days later a party of natives were set to work, and a hut was erected for Mr. Atherton twenty yards away from the house, and was soon fitted up as his other had been. Wilfrid had at once taken up his own work at the farm, but was now his father's right hand, instead of having, as before, everything on his shoulders.

The natives in the neighbourhood had now settled down again. From time to time news came that showed that the Hau-Hau rebellion was almost crushed. Colonel Whitmore, having finally completely subdued the Hau-Hau tribes in the north of Wellington and Taranaki, had marched with a strong force divided into four columns and severely punished all the tribes that had joined Te Kooti in the north-eastern part of the island. Te Kooti himself, after perpetrating several other massacres of settlers, was a fugitive, hotly hunted by Rapata, who gave him no rest, surprising him several times, and exterminating the last remnants of the band who had escaped with him from the Chatham Islands. Te Kooti himself was now believed to be hiding somewhere in the Waikato country; but he was no longer dangerous, his schemes had utterly failed, his pretensions had even in the native eyes been altogether discredited, and all who had adhered to him had either been killed or punished by the destruction of their villages and clearings. There was not the slightest chance that he would ever again trouble the community.

The settlement on the Mohaka river had grown, and in six months after Wilfrid's return the whole of the land lying between the Allens' farm and Mr. Mitford's was taken up, and two or three families had settled beyond Mr. Atherton's holding. At The Glade everything went on prosperously – the animals multiplied, the crops were excellent, and, owing to the many settlers arriving and requiring food until they could raise it for themselves, much better prices were obtained for the produce, and it was no longer necessary to ship it to Napier or Wellington.

Although Mr. Atherton had not gone through any such fatigues as those that he had endured at Poverty Bay, he had continued steadily to decrease in weight. Feeling himself so much lighter and more active on the return from the expedition, he had continued to stick to long and regular exercise, and was out every day, with a native to carry his tin collecting-boxes, his presses, axe, and trowel, from breakfast-time until dark. As he steadily refused to take any food with him, and fasted from breakfast-time till supper, the prolonged exercise in the close heat of the woods did its work rapidly, and at the end of a year from the date of his taking up his abode at The Glade he could no longer be called a stout man, and new-comers looked with admiration at his broad shoulders and powerful figure.

"When I first came to New Zealand," he said, "I thought it probable that I should only stay here a few weeks, or at most a few months, and I had a strong doubt whether it would repay my trouble in coming out here. Now I am sure that it was the very best step I ever took. I weighed the other day at Mitford's, and I did not turn eighteen stone, which is nothing out of the way for a man of my height and size. Last time I weighed I pulled down six-and-twenty. When I go back to England I shall stick to my two meals a day, and go in regularly for racquets and horse exercise."

"And when is that going to be, Mr. Atherton?" Wilfrid asked.

"I have not settled yet, Wilfrid. I have been longer stationary here than I have been in any place since I left college. Occasionally I get a fit of longing to be back in London again, but it seldom lasts long. However, I suppose I shall yield to it one of these days."

"You are doing very well here, Mr. Atherton. You said only the other day that your consignment of plants had sold wonderfully, and that you expected to make nearly a thousand pounds this year."

"That is true enough, Wilfrid; but you see, unfortunately or fortunately, whichever way you like to put it, the thousand pounds are of no importance to me one way or the other. I am really what is generally considered to be a rich man, and from the day I left England, now just two years ago, my income has been simply accumulating, for beyond the two or three pounds a month your mother lets me pay her I spend absolutely nothing."

"It must be very dull for you here, Mr. Atherton, accustomed as you have been to be always either travelling or in London, to be cut off from the world with only just our society, and that of the Allens and Mitfords, and two or three neighbours."

"I do not look dull, do I, Mrs. Renshaw?" Mr. Atherton laughed.

"No; I have never seen you dull since I knew you, Mr. Atherton, not even when you were toiling along exhausted and worn out with that child on your shoulders and the weight of the helpless man on your arms. We shall miss you awfully when you do go; shall we not, Marion?" Marion was now nineteen, and had developed, as Wilfrid told her in some surprise – for brothers seldom think their sisters good-looking – into a very pretty girl.

"It is not coming just yet," Mr. Atherton said; "but I have, I think, pretty well exhausted the forest for a distance of fifty miles round, and now that things are settling down I shall take more extensive trips to the mountains in the north-east and the Waikato country, and the strip of land lying north of Auckland. I have never been absent above two or three days at a time; but in future I may be away for weeks. But this will always be my head-quarters, Mrs. Renshaw. You see, your husband is becoming a formidable rival of mine here, so I must be off to pastures new."

"You know he did not want to send things home, Mr. Atherton. It was only because you insisted that he did so."

"I am very glad that I did insist, Mrs. Renshaw. As you know, I only went into the trade of plants to give me something to do on my rambles besides looking for new species; but I am sure it has been a capital thing for him. He has always been accustomed to use his brain, and although he now takes a lively interest in farm work, he would in time have found a certain void if he had not taken up this new hobby. As it is, it gives him plenty of out-door work, and is not only interesting, but pays well; and now that he is thoroughly acquainted with the botany of this part of the island, and knows which things are worth sending home, and the price he can depend upon getting for them, he will make a far larger income out of it than he could do from farming. Wilfrid will be quite capable of looking after the interests of the farm."

Another year passed. The clearings at The Glade had been greatly enlarged; but clumps of bush had been judiciously left so as to preserve its sylvan appearance, the long operation of fencing in the whole property had been accomplished, and the number of horses, cattle, and sheep had so increased that the greater part were now sent to graze on Maori land, a small rate per head being paid to the natives. Mr. Atherton had come and gone many times, and had now almost completed his study of the botany of the island. Mr. Renshaw had altogether abandoned the management of the farm to Wilfrid, and devoted himself entirely to the collection of ferns, orchids, and other plants, receiving handsome cheques in return for the consignment sent to England by each vessel that sailed from Wellington or Napier. He had agents at each of these towns, who made arrangements with the stewards of the ships for taking care of the plants on their way home, their remuneration being dependent upon the state in which the consignment arrived in England.

Settlers were now established on both sides of the river for miles above The Glade, and as among these were several who had been officers in the army, or professional men who had come out for the benefit of their families, there was now much cheerful society, and The Glade occupied the same leading position in that part of the settlement that Mr. Mitford's had done on the lower river when they first arrived.

James Allen had now been a year married to the eldest of the Miss Mitfords. His brother had been decidedly refused by Marion when he proposed to her, much to the surprise of her father and mother, who had seen from the frequent visits of their neighbour during the past year how things were going with him, while Wilfrid had been quite indignant at her rejection of his friend.

"Girls are extraordinary creatures," he said to his sister. "I had quite made up my mind for the last six months that you and Bob were going to make a match of it, and thought what a jolly thing it would be to have you settled next to us. I am sure I do not know what you want more. You have known him for three years. He is as steady as possible, and safe to get on well, and as nice a fellow as I know."

"He is all that, Wilfrid, but you see I don't want to marry him. I like him very much in the same way you like him, but I don't like him well enough for that."

"Oh, I suppose you want a wandering prince in disguise," Wilfrid grumbled. "That is the way with girls; they always want something that they cannot get."

"My dear Wilfrid," Marion said with spirit, "when I take to lecturing you as to whom you are to marry it will be quite time for you to take to lecturing me; but until I do I cannot allow that you have any right in the matter."

It was seldom indeed that brother and sister differed in opinion about anything, and seeing a tear in Marion's eye Wilfrid at once gave in and admitted himself to be wrong.

"Of course it is no business of mine, Marion, and I beg your pardon. I am sure I should not wish for a moment that you should marry anyone but the man that you choose for yourself. I should certainly have liked you to have married Bob Allen, but, if you do not fancy him, of course there is an end of it."

This was not the only offer that Marion had received during the year, for there were several young settlers who would have been glad to have installed her as the mistress of their homesteads; but they had each met with the same fate that had now befallen Bob Allen.

The next time Mr. Atherton came back he said, "I have taken my last ramble and gathered my last plant."

"What! are you going home?" Mrs. Renshaw exclaimed.

"Yes, I am going home," he said more seriously than he usually spoke. "I have been away three years now, and have pretty thoroughly ransacked the island. I have discovered nearly eighty new species of plants and two or three entirely new families, so I have done enough for honour; besides, I am wanted at home. An old aunt has died and has left me a considerable sum of money, just because I had plenty of my own before, I suppose. It is another instance of female perversity. So I have had a letter from my solicitor saying that I am really wanted; but in any case I should have gone now or in another month or two. I begin to feel that I have had enough of wandering, and at thirty-eight it is time to settle down if you are ever going to do so."

There was a silence round the table as he ceased speaking, for all felt that the loss would be a serious one, and although Mr. Atherton had tried to speak lightly they could see that he too felt the approaching end of their close friendship.

"Are you going to start at once?" Mr. Renshaw asked.

"No, I shall give myself a fortnight or three weeks before I sail. I have all the plants I gathered this time to dry and prepare properly; besides, I should like a quiet stay with you before I say good-bye. You see, I have not seen much of you during the last year."

Nothing further was said on the subject, which none of them liked to touch on. For the next two days the house seemed strangely quiet.

"By the way, what has become of young Allen?" Mr. Atherton said at dinner on the third day. "You told me every one was well, so I suppose he is away from home, as I have not seen him since I came, and he used to be a very regular visitor." There was a momentary silence and then Mrs. Renshaw said:

"I do not think he is away from home, though he may be, for he was talking the other day of looking out for a fresh piece of land for himself. Now that his brother is married I suppose it is only natural that he should think of setting up for himself. The farm is of course their joint property, but I suppose they will make some arrangement for his brother to take over his share."

"Naturally," Mr. Atherton agreed, "young Allen would not care about remaining now that his brother is married. When one of two partners marries it generally breaks up the partnership, and besides, he will of course be wanting to have a place of his own, and the holding is not large enough to divide."

After dinner Wilfrid strolled out with Mr. Atherton.

"I daresay you saw, Mr. Atherton, that your question about Bob Allen fell rather as a bomb-shell among us. There is no reason why you, who are a great friend, should not know the truth. The fact is, to my astonishment, Marion has thought proper to refuse Bob Allen. I was never more surprised in my life. I had always looked upon it as certain that she would accept him, especially as she has refused three or four good offers this year. One never can understand girls."

Mr. Atherton was silent for a minute or two. Then he said:

"I thought too, Wilfrid, that it would have come off. I have always thought so. Well, well." Then after a pause he went on: "I had intended to go over in the morning to see him. I like the lad, and had an idea of offering to advance him a sum of money to set up in a place of his own without loss of time. Then the young couple would have had a fair start in life without having to wait two or three years or to go through the rough work at the first start in a settler's life. The money would of course have been nothing to me, and it would have been satisfactory to have lent a helping hand towards seeing your sister married and happy. And so she has refused him. Well, I will take a turn by myself, Wilfrid."

And to the young fellow's surprise Mr. Atherton turned off and started at a brisk pace up the glade.

"He is evidently as vexed at Marion's throwing over Bob Allen as I am," Wilfrid said to himself as he looked after him. "I wish he would give her a good talking to, she would think more of his opinion than she does of mine."

CHAPTER XVIII

IN ENGLAND

"I suppose you have not settled yet as to what ship you will return by, Atherton?" Mr. Renshaw asked as the party were gathered in the verandah in the evening.

"No," Mr. Atherton replied, absently watching the smoke of his cigar as it curled up, "nothing is at all settled; my plans seem to be quite vague now."

"What do you mean, Mr. Atherton?" Mrs. Renshaw asked in surprise, for Mr. Atherton's plans were generally mapped out very decidedly. "How is it that your plans are vague? I thought you said two days ago that you should go down to Wellington about the 20th."

"I did not mean to say that they were vague, Mrs. Renshaw; did I really say so?"

"Why, of course you did," Mrs. Renshaw said; "and it is not often that you are vague about anything."

"That shows that you do not understand my character, Mrs. Renshaw," Mr. Atherton said in his usual careless manner. "I am the vaguest of men – a child of chance, a leaf blown before the wind."

Wilfrid laughed. "It would have taken a very strong wind when we first knew you."

"I am speaking metaphorically, Wilfrid. I am at London, and the idea occurs to me to start for the Amazon and botanize there for a few months. I pack up and start the next morning. I get there and do not like the place, and say to myself it is too hot here, let me study the Arctic flora at Spitzbergen. If I act upon an idea promptly, well and good, but if I allow any time to elapse between the idea striking me and my carrying the thing into execution, there is never any saying whether I may not go off in an entirely different groove during the interval."

"And is there any chance of your going off in any other groove now, Atherton?" Mr. Renshaw asked.

"No, I think not; just a remote possibility perhaps, but not more than that. It is so indefinitely small, indeed, that you may – yes, I think you may safely calculate upon my starting on the day I said, or if I find a ship at Wellington going on a trading excursion among the islands, or up to the Straits, or to Japan, I may likely enough take a passage in her."

"But I thought you said that your business required you to be at home, Mr. Atherton?"

"Yes, I suppose that is so, Wilfrid; but I daresay my solicitor would manage it just as well if I did not turn up. Solicitors are people who, as far as I can see, consider it their duty to bother you, but if they find that you pay no attention to their letters they manage somehow or other to get on very well without you. I believe they go into a court and make affidavits, and get an order authorizing them to sign for you. I do not know how it generally is done, but that is my experience of them so far."

Marion had said little that evening, and had indeed been very quiet for the last few days. She was somewhat indignant at Wilfrid's interference in what she considered her affairs, and felt that although her father and mother had said nothing, they too were somewhat disappointed, and would have been glad had she accepted Bob Allen. Besides she had reasons of her own for being out of spirits. After breakfast the next morning Mr. Atherton said: "Marion, when you have finished your domestic duties and can be spared, suppose you put on your hat and come for a ramble with me."

There was nothing unusual in the request, for the girl often accompanied him in his rambles when he was not going far into the forest.

"I shall be ready in half an hour, if your highness can wait so long."

"I am in no hurry, child, and will smoke a pipe on the verandah until you are ready."

Marion always enjoyed these walks with Mr. Atherton. He was at all times a pleasant companion, and when alone with her always exerted himself to amuse her, though he sometimes vexed her by talking to her as if she were a child. To-day he was much more silent than usual, and more than once she looked up in wonder at his face as he walked along puffing at his pipe, with his hands deep in his jacket pockets and his eyes bent on the ground.

"A penny for your thoughts, Mr. Atherton," she said at last with a laugh. "It seems to me that you would have got on just as well without me."

"Well, I was just thinking that I was a fool to ask you to come with me, child." Marion opened her eyes in surprise. "You see, my dear," he went on, "we all make fools of ourselves sometimes. I started in life by making a fool of myself. I fell in love with a woman whom I thought perfection. She was an arrant flirt, and was only amusing herself with me till she hooked a young lord for whom she was angling. That was what sent me roaming for the first time; and, as you know, having once started I have kept it up ever since, that is till I came out here. I had intended to stay six months; I have been here three years. Why have I stopped so long? Simply, child, because I have again made a fool of myself. I do not think I was conscious of it for the first two years, and it was only when I saw, as I thought, that young Allen would win you, that I recognized that I, a man of thirty-seven, was fool enough to love a child just eighteen years younger than myself. At the same time I was not fool enough to think that I had the smallest chance. I could not stop here and watch another winning you, and at the same time I was so weak that I could not go away altogether; and so you see I compromised matters by going away for weeks and sometimes months at a time, returning with the expectation each time of hearing that it was settled. Now I hear that you have refused him, and, just as a drowning man grasps at a straw, I resolved to have my fate absolutely settled before I sail. Don't be afraid of saying 'no,' dear. I have never for a moment looked for any other answer, but I think that I would rather have the 'no' than go away without it, for in after years I might be fool enough to come to think that possibly, just possibly, the answer, had I asked the question, might have been 'yes.'"