Maori and Settler: A Story of The New Zealand War

It was a magnificent sight. Tremendous waves were following the ship, each as it approached lifting her stern high in the air and driving her along at a speed that seemed terrific, then passing on and leaving her to sink down into the valley behind it. The air was thick with flying spray torn from the crest of the waves. At first it seemed as if each sea that came up behind the vessel would break over her stern and drive her head-foremost down; but as wave passed after wave without damage the sense of anxiety passed off, and Marion was able to enjoy the grandeur of the sea. Wilfrid, Mr. Atherton, and the Allens often came in to sit with her, and to take shelter for a time from the fury of the wind. But talking was almost impossible; the roar of the wind in the rigging, the noise of the waves as they struck the ship, and the confused sound of the battle of the elements being too great to allow a voice to be heard, except when raised almost to shouting point.

But Marion had no inclination for talking. Snugly as Mr. Atherton had wedged her in with pillows and cushions, it was as much as she could do to retain her seat, as the vessel rolled till the lower yards almost touched the water, and she was too absorbed in the wild grandeur of the scene to want companionship.

"The captain says the glass is beginning to rise," Mr. Atherton said as he met her the fourth morning of the gale; "and that he thinks the worst is over."

"I shall be glad for the sake of the others," Marion replied, "for the sea to go down. Father and mother are both quite worn out; for it is almost impossible for them to sleep, as they might be thrown out of their berths if they did not hold on. For myself, I am in no hurry for the gale to be over, it is so magnificently grand. Don't you think so, Mr. Atherton?"

"It is grand, lassie, no doubt," Mr. Atherton said; "but I have rather a weakness for dry clothes and comfortable meals – to say nothing of being able to walk or sit perpendicularly, and not being obliged constantly to hold on for bare life. This morning I feel that under happier circumstances I could enjoy a steak, an Irish stew, and a couple of eggs, but a biscuit and a cup of coffee are all I can hope for."

"I believe you enjoy it as much as I do, Mr. Atherton," the girl said indignantly; "else why do you stay upon deck all the time in spite of the wind and spray?"

"Well, you see, Miss Renshaw, you ladies have an objection to my smoking my pipe below; and besides, what with the groans and moans from the cabins, and the clatter of the swinging trays, and the noise of the waves, and one thing and another, there is little to tempt me to stay below. But really I shall be very glad when it is over. The ship has been doing splendidly; and as the wind has blown from the same quarter the whole time, the sea though very high is regular, and everything is going on well. Still a gale is a gale, and you can never answer for the vagaries of the wind. If it were to veer round to another quarter, for instance, you would in a few hours get a broken sea here that would astonish you, and would try all the qualities of the Flying Scud. Then again we have been running south with tremendous speed for the last three days, and if it were to go on for a few days longer we might find ourselves down among the ice. Therefore, I say, the sooner the gale is over the better I shall be pleased."

Towards evening there was a sensible abatement in the force of the wind, and the following morning the gale had so far abated that the captain prepared to haul his course for the west.

"We have been running south at the rate of fully three hundred miles a day," he said, "and are now very far down. The moment this warm wind drops and we get it from the south you will find that you will need every wrap you have to keep you warm. If the gale had lasted I had made up my mind to try to get her head to it, and to lie to. We are a great deal too close to the region of ice to be pleasant."

The change in the course of the vessel was by no means appreciated by the passengers, for the motion was very much rougher and more unpleasant than that to which they had now become accustomed. However, by the following morning the wind had died away to a moderate breeze, and the sea had very sensibly abated. The topsails were shaken out of their reefs; and although the motion was still violent most of the passengers emerged from their cabins and came on deck to enjoy the sun, which was now streaming brightly through the broken clouds. The captain was in high glee; the ship had weathered the gale without the slightest damage. Not a rope had parted, not a sail been blown away, and the result fully justified the confidence he felt in his ship and her gear.

"It is a comfort," he remarked, "to sail under liberal owners. Now, my people insist on having their ships as well found as possible, and if I condemn spars, sails, ropes, or stays, they are replaced without a question. And it is the cheapest policy in the long run. There is nothing so costly as stinginess on board a ship. The giving way of a stay may mean the loss of the mast and all its gear, and that may mean the loss of a ship. The blowing away of a sail at a critical moment may mean certain disaster; and yet there are many owners who grudge a fathom of new rope or a bolt of canvas, and who will risk the safety of their vessels for the petty economy of a few pounds."

The next day the wind had dropped entirely. The topgallant masts were sent up with their yards and sails, and by dinner-time the Flying Scud looked more like herself. As soon as the wind lulled all on board were conscious of a sudden fall of temperature. Bundles of wraps were undone and greatcoats and cloaks got out, and although the sun was still shining brightly the poop of the Flying Scud soon presented a wintry appearance. There was no sitting about now. Even the ladies had abandoned their usual work, and by the sharp walking up and down on deck it was evident that even the warm wraps were insufficient in themselves, and that brisk exercise was necessary to keep up the circulation.

"Well, what do you think of this, Mrs. Renshaw?" Mr. Atherton asked.

"I like it," she said decidedly; "but it is certainly a wonderfully sudden change from summer to winter. My husband does not like it at all. We never agreed on the subject of temperature. He liked what I call a close study, while I enjoy a sharp walk well wrapped up on a winter's day."

"I agree with you," Mr. Atherton said. "I can bear any amount of cold, but heat completely knocks me up. But then, you see, the cold never has a chance of penetrating to my bones."

"Which course shall we take now, do you suppose? South of Cape Horn or through the Straits?"

"It will depend upon the winds we meet with, I imagine," Mr. Atherton replied. "If the wind continues from the south, I should say the captain would keep well south of the Horn; but if it heads us from the west at all, we may have to go through the Straits, which, personally, I own that I should prefer. It has gone round nearly a point since I came on deck this morning. If it goes round a bit more we certainly shall not be able to lay our course round the Horn, for I do not think we are far to the south of it now."

By evening the wind had hauled farther to the west, and the ship's head pointed more to the north than it had done in the morning. The passengers enjoyed the change, for the temperature had risen rapidly, and many of the warm wraps that had been got up were laid aside. At twelve o'clock the captain had taken observations, and found that the ship's position was nearly due south of the Falkland Isles.

"We had a narrow squeak of it, Mr. Ryan," he said to the first-mate. "All the time we were running before that gale I had that group of islands on my mind."

"So had I, sir," the mate replied. "I was praying all the time that the wind would keep a bit to the west of north, for I knew that when it began our position was, as near as may be, due north of them. I guessed what you were thinking of when you told the man at the wheel to edge away to the east as much as he dared, though that was mighty little."

"By my reckoning," the captain said, "we could not have passed more than thirty miles to the east of them. We have made about eighty miles of westing since we got on our course, and we are now just on the longitude of the westermost point of the islands. They are about a hundred miles to the north of us."

The wind continued from the same quarter, and on taking his observation on the following day the captain announced that if there were no change he reckoned upon just making the mouth of the Straits between Tierra del Fuego and the islands. On going on deck two mornings later land was seen on the port bow.

"There is Cape Horn," the captain said; "that lofty peak covered with snow. The island nearest to us is Herschel Island. The large island not far from the Horn is Wollaston Island. As you see, there are several others. It is not the sort of place one would like to come down upon in a gale, and if I had had my choice I would rather have gone a hundred miles south of the Horn. But the wind would not allow us to lie that course, and after the gale we had the other day we have a right to reckon upon finer weather, and in light winds it might have taken us another two or three days beating round."

"The wind is very light now," Mr. Renshaw remarked.

"Yes, and I am afraid it will be lighter still presently," the captain said.

The vessel made but slow way, and in the afternoon the wind dropped altogether. The Flying Scud was now two or three miles from the coast of Tierra del Fuego, and the passengers examined the inhospitable-looking coast through their glasses. At one or two points light wreaths of smoke were seen curling up, telling of encampments of the natives.

"I think, Mr. Ryan," the captain said, "I will take her in and anchor in one of the bays This breath of air might be enough to move her through the water if she were going free, but it is nearly dead ahead of us now. I do not like the idea of drifting all night along this coast. Besides, we may be able to get some fish from the natives, which will be a change for the passengers."

The vessel's head was turned towards the shore, and now that the light air was well on the beam it sufficed to enable the vessel to steal through the water at the rate of about a knot an hour. At about four o'clock the anchor was dropped in a bay at a distance of half a mile from land, the sails were furled, and the passengers watched the shores in hopes that some native craft might make its appearance; but there was no sign of life.

"Either the natives have no fish to sell, or rather exchange," the captain said, "for, of course, money is of no use to them, or they are afraid of us. Maybe they have been massacring some shipwrecked crew, and believe we are a ship-of-war come down to punish them. At any rate, they seem determined not to show."

The next morning the sea was as smooth as glass, and there was not a breath of air.

"Would you let us have a boat, captain?" Mr. Atherton asked. "It will make a pleasant change, and perhaps some of the natives might come off and sell us fish, as they would not be afraid of us as they might be of the ship."

"Yes, if you like to make up a party, Mr. Atherton, you can have a boat; but you must not land. The natives are very treacherous, and it would not be safe to set foot on shore. Mr. Ryan, will you get the cutter into the water after breakfast? You had better take with you two or three muskets. I do not think there is any fear of an attack, and besides you could out-row the native craft, still it is always as well to be prepared."

Mr. Atherton soon made up his party. Wilfrid and the two Allens were delighted at the offer, and Marion and the Miss Mitfords also petitioned to be allowed to go, although Mr. Atherton had not intended to take ladies with him. Two other young men named Hardy and Wilson were also invited to join, and this made up the complement that the cutter could carry in comfort. The crew consisted of six sailors at the oars, and Mr. Ryan himself took the helm.

"You had better wrap up well," Mr. Atherton said to the girls, "for you will find it cold sitting in a boat. The thermometer must be down near freezing-point."

Mr. Atherton was the last to take his seat, and he brought with him his rifle.

"Why, what are you going to shoot, Mr. Atherton?" Marion asked.

"I do not know that I am going to shoot anything," he replied; "but it is always well to be prepared. You see I have made preparations in other ways," he added as the steward handed him down a large basket, which he placed in the stern-sheets.

"But we are only going for an hour or two, Mr. Atherton," Wilfrid remarked. "We cannot want anything to eat when we have only just finished breakfast."

"I do not think it at all likely we shall want to open the hamper, Wilfrid; but you see it is always best to be prepared. The weather looks perfectly settled, but, like the natives of these parts, it is treacherous. As I proposed this expedition I feel a sort of responsibility, and have therefore, you see, taken precautions against every contingency."

"I do not think there is any chance of a change," Mr. Ryan said. "It looks as if the calm might last for a week. Still, one can never be wrong in preparing for the worst. Besides, this cold weather gives one a wonderful appetite, and a drop of the cratur never comes amiss."

By this time the boat was fairly away from the ship, and the sailors, who like the passengers regarded the expedition as a pleasant change, stretched out to their oars. The mate steered for the headland to the west, and after passing it kept the boat at a distance of a few hundred yards from the shore.

"Is there any current here, Mr. Ryan?" Wilfrid asked as he watched the rocks and low stunted trees.

"Very little," the mate replied. "Sometimes it runs very strongly here, but at present it is not much to speak of. I do not think it was running more than a quarter of a mile an hour past the ship, but no doubt there is a good deal more farther out."

To the disappointment of those on board there were no signs of natives.

"It will be very tiresome if they do not come out," Marion said. "I want to see a real cannibal."

"I do not so much care about the cannibals, Miss Renshaw, but I want to see their fish. I have not tasted a really decent fish since I left England; but in these cold waters they ought to be as good as they are at home. I believe the natives catch them by spearing them by torch-light, and in that case they ought to be good-sized fellows." The men after the first start had dropped into a long, steady stroke, and as the boat glided along past bay and headland no one paid any attention to time, until the mate, looking at his watch, said:

"Faith, we have been gone an hour and a half; I clean forgot all about time. I think we had better be turning. It will be dinner-time before we reach the ship as it is." The boat's head was turned. "I think," the mate went on, "we may as well steer from headland to headland, instead of keeping round the bays. It will save a good bit of distance, and the natives evidently do not mean to show themselves."

"They are very provoking," Miss Mitford said. "I can see smoke among the trees over there, and I have no doubt that they are watching us although we cannot see them."

"You ought to have waved your handkerchief as we came along, Miss Mitford," James Allen remarked; "or to have stood up and shown yourselves. They would no doubt have come off then and offered presents in token of admiration."

The girls laughed. "I do not suppose they would appreciate our charms," Miss Mitford said. "They are not in their line, you see."

"That they certainly are not, Miss Mitford," the mate laughed. "I saw some of them the last time I came through here, and hideous-looking creatures they are, and wear no clothes to speak of."

So laughing and chatting with their eyes fixed on the shore the party never looked seaward, until a sudden exclamation from the mate called their attention to that direction.

"Be Jabers!" he exclaimed, "here is a sea-fog rolling down on us from the south!"

They looked and saw what seemed like a wall of white smoke rolling along the water towards them. At this moment the boat was about half-way between two headlands, which were a mile and a half apart, and the shore abreast of it was three-quarters of a mile distant. The sun was shining brightly upon the rolling mist, and the girls uttered an exclamation of admiration.

"How fast it comes!" Marion said. "Why, it will be here directly!"

The mate put the tiller a-starboard. "Row, men!" he said in a sharp voice; for they had for a moment ceased to pull.

"Have you a compass?" Mr. Atherton asked in low tones.

The mate shook his head. "I am no better than an idiot to have come without one," he said. "But who could have dreamt we should want it?"

A minute later a light wreath of mist crossed the boat, and almost immediately the great fog-bank rolled over it. An exclamation broke from several of those on board. So sudden was the change of temperature that it seemed as if an icy hand had been laid upon them.

"It is fortunate that we are not far from shore," Mr. Atherton said to the mate. "There is nothing for it but to coast along close in."

"That is the only thing to do," Mr. Ryan replied. "But it will be an awkward business; for, as we noticed when we came along, the shore is in many places studded with rocks. However, we must risk that, and by going on slowly and carefully we may get off with slight damage even if we hit one. It is not as if the water was rough."

The fog was so thick that they could scarcely see the ends of the oar-blades.

"How are we to find the ship?" Marion asked.

"There will be no difficulty about that, Miss Renshaw. They will be sure to be firing guns as signals for us. There!" he broke off as the boom of a cannon came across the water. "Besides, with the land on our right hand and this icy breeze from the south, we cannot go far out of our way."

"Row easy, men," the mate commanded. "We cannot be far from shore now, and we must begin to look out sharp for rocks. Row light and aisy, and do not make more noise with your oars than you can help. The natives may be listening for us; and we do not want a shower of spears in the boat. Mr. Allen, will you go forward into the bows, and keep a sharp look-out for rocks?"

James Allen went forward, and two or three minutes later cried, "Easy all! Hold her up!" Quickly as the order was obeyed the boat's stem grated on the shore before her way was lost.

"Back her off, lads!" the mate cried. As the boat glided off into deep water again there was a yell from the shore, and a dozen spears struck the water round her. Fortunately none of them struck her, for she was invisible to the natives, who had been guided to the spot by the sound of the oars.

"Not an encouraging reception," Mr. Atherton remarked quietly. "Well, ladies, you have not seen the cannibals as yet, but you have heard them. I think the best plan, Mr. Ryan, will be to tear up one of these rugs and muffle the oars."

"I think we may as well do so," the mate replied "However, their sharp ears are sure to hear us if we are close inshore, and we dare not go far out or we might lose our bearings altogether."

"I do not think we can do that. In the first place, you see, there is the breeze that brought down the fog to guide us, and in the second the guns of the ship. We cannot go far wrong with them; and I should say that when we once get out as far as we believe the headland to lie, the best thing will be to steer direct for the ship. The danger in that way would certainly be far less than it is from rocks and savages if we keep near the shore."

"I think you are right. We will row straight out against the wind for a quarter of an hour, that will take us clear of the headland, and we will then shape our course direct for the guns."

CHAPTER VI

PUTTING IN THE REFIT

The boat rowed steadily in the course that was believed would take them straight out to sea, the mate listening attentively for the sound of the distant guns. The reports came up every two or three minutes, their sound muffled by the fog. "Sure it's mighty difficult to tell where the sound comes from, but I think it is well over there on our beam. Do not you think so?" the mate asked Mr. Atherton.

"I think so; yes, I feel sure that we are rowing nearly due south. Even without the sound of the guns I should feel sure that we cannot at present be far out of that course. I noticed that as we came along you hardly had to use any helm, and that the strength on both sides was very evenly balanced. So that starting out as we did from the shore, we must be travelling pretty straight. Of course in the long run we should be sure to sweep round one way or the other and lose our bearings altogether were it not for the guns. Wilfrid, we will appoint you time-keeper."

"What am I to keep time of, Mr. Atherton?"

"You are to keep time of the guns. I think they are firing about every three minutes, but you had better time the first two or three. If you find them three minutes apart, it will be your duty a quarter of a minute before the gun is due to say in a loud voice 'Stop,' then all conversation is to cease till we hear the report. Unless we are all silent and listening, it is very difficult to judge the exact direction from which the sound comes, and it is important to keep as straight a line as we can. There is the gun now, begin to count."

"I think we can turn our head in that direction now," the mate said. "It is just twenty minutes since we left the shore, and we ought to be fully a mile out beyond the headland."

"I quite agree with you. We have certainly a clear course now to the ship if we do not make any blunder in keeping it."

The mate put the tiller a-starboard.

"I wonder how long I am to keep it over?" he said. "It is a queer sensation steering without having an idea which way you are going."

"The next gun will tell us whether we have gone too far round or not far enough," Mr. Atherton observed.

"Well, we will try that," the mate said after a short pause. "I should think we ought to have made half a turn now."

"Stop!" Wilfrid exclaimed a minute later. "Easy rowing, lads, and listen for the gun."

The mate ordered silence in the boat. Half a minute later the report of the gun was again heard. There was a general exclamation of surprise, for instead of coming, as they expected, from a point somewhere ahead, it seemed to them all that the sound was almost astern of them.

"Now, who would have thought that?" the mate said. "I had no idea she had gone round so far. Well, we must try again, and go to work more gently this time. Row on, men!"

The tiller was put slightly a-port, and the boat continued her way. The talk that had gone on among the passengers was now hushed. Mr. Atherton had been chatting gaily with the girls from the time the fog came on, and except at the moment when they went ashore and were attacked by the natives, no uneasiness had been felt, for the sound of the guns had seemed to all an assurance that there could be no difficulty in rejoining the ship. The discovery that for a moment they had been actually going away from the ship had, for the first time since they rowed away from the shore, caused a feeling of real uneasiness, and when Wilfrid again gave notice that the report would soon be heard, all listened intently, and there was a general exclamation of satisfaction when the sound was heard nearly ahead.

"We have got it now," the mate said. "Row on, lads; a long steady stroke and we shall be in before dinner is cold yet."

The conversation now recommenced.

"Is it any use my stopping here any longer?" Jim Allen cried from the bow; "because if not I will come aft to you. It is a good deal warmer sitting together than it is out here by myself."

"Yes, you may as well come aft," the mate replied. "As long as we keep the guns ahead we know that we are clear of rocks. It certainly has come on bitterly cold." There was a general chorus of assent.

"I should think it would be a good thing, Ryan, to get the sail aft and unlash it from the gaff and put it over our legs, it will make a lot of difference in the warmth."