CHAPTER FORTY ONE.
PRISONERS OF WAR.
"I wish our old ship was here, and I was at one of the guns to help givethese beggars a broadside."
"It is very, very horrible, Jem."
"Ten times as horrid as that, Mas' Don. Here was we all as quiet andcomf'table as could be--taking our warm baths. I say, shouldn't I likeone now! I'm that stiff and sore I can hardly move."
"Yes, it would be a comfort, Jem."
"Yes, and as I was saying, here was we going on as quiet as could be,and interfering with nobody, when these warmints came; and look atthings now."
"Yes," said Don, sadly, as he looked round; "half the men dead, theothers wounded and prisoners, with the women and children."
"And the village--I s'pose they calls this a village; I don't, for therearn't no church--all racked and ruined."
They sat together, with their hands tightly bound behind them, gazing atthe desolation. The prisoners were all huddled together, perfectlysilent, and with a dull, sullen, despairing look in their countenances,which seemed to suggest that they were accepting their fate as a matterof course.
It was a horrible scene, so many of the warriors being badly wounded,but they made no complaint; and, truth to tell, most of those who werenow helpless prisoners had taken part in raids to inflict the pain theynow suffered themselves.
The dead had been dragged away before Don woke that morning, but therewere hideous traces on the trampled ground, with broken weaponsscattered here and there, while the wounded were lying togetherperfectly untended, many of them bound, to prevent escape--hardlypossible even to an uninjured man, for a guard was keeping watch overthem ready to advance threateningly, spear in hand, if a prisonerattempted to move.
Where Don and Jem were sitting a portion of the great fence was broken,and they could see through it down to the shore.
"What a shame it seems on such a glorious morning, Jem!"
"Shame! Mas' Don? I should just like to shame 'em. Head hurt much?"
"Not so very much, Jem. How is your shoulder?"
"Rather pickly."
"Rather what?"
"Pickly, as if there was vinegar and pepper and salt being rubbed intoit. But my old mother used to say that it was a good sign when a cutsmarted a lot. So I s'pose my wound's first rate, for it smarts like afurze bush in a fit."
"I wish I could bathe it for you, Jem."
"Thank ye, Mas' Don. I wish my Sally could do it. More in her way."
"We must try and bear it all, I suppose, Jem. How hot the sun is; and,ill as I am, I should be so glad of something to eat and drink."
"I'm that hungry, Mas' Don," growled Jem, "that I could eat one o' thesehere savages. Not all at once, of course."
"Look, Jem. What are they doing there?"
Don nodded his head in the direction of the broken fence; and togetherthey looked down from the eminence on which the _pah_ was formed, rightupon the black volcanic sand, over which the sea ran foaming like somuch glistening silver.
There were about fifty of the enemy busy there running to and fro, andthe spectators were not long left in doubt as to what they were doing,for amid a great deal of shouting one of the huge war canoes was rundown over the sand and launched, a couple of men being left to keep herby the shore, while their comrades busied themselves in launchingothers, till every canoe belonging to the conquered tribe was in thewater.
"That's it, is it?" said Jem. "They came over land, and now they'regoing back by water. Well, I s'pose, they'll do as they like."
"Isn't this nearest one Ngati's canoe, Jem?"
"Yes, my lad; that's she. I know her by that handsome face cut in thefront. I s'pose poor Ngati's dead."
"I'm afraid so," said Don, sadly. "I've been trying to make out hisface and Tomati's among the prisoners, but I can't see either."
"More can't I, Mas' Don. It's a werry bad job. Lookye yonder now."
Don was already looking, for a great deal of excited business was goingon below, where the victorious tribe was at work, going and coming, andbringing down loads of plunder taken from the various huts. One manbore a bundle of spears, another some stone tomahawks, which wererattled into the bottom of the canoes. Then paddles, and bundles ofhempen garments were carried down, with other objects of value in thesavage eye.
This went on for hours amidst a great deal of shouting and laughter,till a large amount of spoil was loaded into the canoes, one beingfilled up and deep in the water.
Then there seemed to be a pause, the canoes being secured to treesgrowing close down to the shore, and the party busy there a short timebefore absent.
"Coming to fetch us now, I suppose, Mas' Don," said Jem. "Wonderwhether they've got your pistol and cutlash."
But no one but the guards came in sight, and a couple of weary hourspassed, during which the other prisoners sat crouched together, talkingin a low tone, apparently quite indifferent to their fate; and thisindifference seemed so great that some of the thoughtless children beganto laugh and talk aloud.
For some time this was passed over unnoticed; but at last one of theguards, a tall Maori, whose face was so lined in curves that it seemedto be absolutely blue, walked slowly over to the merry group, spear inhand, to give one child a poke with the butt, another a sharp blow overthe head, evidently with the intention of producing silence; but in thecase of the younger children his movements had the opposite effect, andthis roused the ire of some of the women, who spoke out angrily enoughto make the tall, blue-faced savage give a threatening gesture with hisspear.
Just at that moment, however, a loud shouting and singing arose, whichtook the man's attention, and he and his fellows mounted on a stage atone corner of the _pah_ to stand leaning upon their spears, gazing downat the festivities being carried on at the edge of the sands below.
For some time past it had seemed to Don that the plundering party hadfired the village, for a tall column of smoke had risen up, and this haddied down and risen again as combustible matter had caught.
The fire was too far below to be seen, but the smoke rose in clouds asthe work of destruction seemed to be going on.
The singing and shouting increased, and once or twice the otherprisoners appeared to take an excited interest in the sounds that cameup to them; but they only sank directly after into a state of moodyapathy, letting their chins go down upon their chests, and many of themdropping off to sleep.
The noise and shouting had been going on for some time, and then ceased,to be succeeded by a low, busy murmur, as of a vast swarm of bees; andnow, after sitting very silent and thoughtful, watching the faint smokewhich came up from the fire, and eagerly drinking in the various sounds,Don turned his eyes in a curiously furtive manner to steal a look atJem.
He did not move his head, but proceeded with the greatest caution, so asto try and read his companion's countenance, when, to his surprise, hefound that Jem was stealing a look at him, and both, as it were,snatched their eyes away, and began looking at the prisoners.
But at that time it was as if the eyes of both were filled with somestrange attractive force, which made them turn and gaze in a peculiarlyhard, wild way.
Don seemed to be reading Jem's thoughts as his sight plunged deeply intothe eyes of his companion, and as he gazed, he shuddered, and tried tolook elsewhere.
But he could not look elsewhere, only hard at Jem, who also shuddered,and looked shame-faced and horrified.
For they were reading each other's thoughts only too correctly, and theeffect of that perusal was to make big drops of perspiration roll downJem's face, and to turn Don deadly pale.
At last each snatched his eyes away, Jem to watch the prisoners, Don toclose his, and sit trembling and listening to the bursts of merrimentwhich came up.
At such times, in spite of their efforts, they could not imitate theapathy of the New Zealanders, but gazed wildly at each other, trying tomake themselves believe that what they imagined was false, or else theprisoners would have shown som
e sign of excitement.
At last Jem ceased to make any pretence about the matter. He staredspeechlessly and full of misery at Don, who let his eyes rest wildly onJem's for a time before dropping his head upon his chest, and sittingmotionless.
All through the rest of that hour, and hour after hour, till towardsevening, did the wretched prisoners sit in despair and misery withoutfood or water; and the sounds of merriment and feasting came loudly towhere they were.
The sun was descending rapidly when about half-a-dozen of the conqueringtribe came up to the _pah_, with the result that those who were on guardsuddenly grew wildly excited, and giving up their duties to the newcomers, uttered eager shouts and rushed off in a way that was frantic inthe extreme.
Don and Jem again exchanged looks full of misery and despair, and thengazed with wonder and loathing at the new comers, who walked slowlyabout for a few minutes, and then went and leaned their backs againstthe palisading of the _pah_, and partially supported themselves upontheir spears.
"Ugh!" ejaculated Jem with a shudder as he turned away. "You wretches!Mas' Don, I felt as I lay here last night, all dull and miserable andsick, and hardly able to bear myself--I felt so miserable because I knewI must have shot some of those chaps."
"So did I, Jem," sighed Don; "so did I."
"Well, just now, Mas' Don, I'm just 'tother way; ay, for I wish with allmy heart I'd shot the lot. Hark, there!"
They listened, and could hear a burst of shouting and laughing.
"That's them sentries gone down now to the feast. I say, Mas' Don, lookat these here fellows."
"Yes, Jem, I've been looking at them. It's horrible, and we mustescape."
They sat gazing at their guards again, to see that they were flushed,their eyes full, heavy, and starting, and that they were absolutelystupefied and torpid as some huge serpent which has finished a meal.
"They must be all drunk, Jem," whispered Don, with a fresh shudder ofhorror and loathing.
"No, Mas' Don, 'tarn't that," said Jem, with a look of disgust. "OldMike used to tell us stories, and most of 'em was yarns as I didn'tbelieve; but he told us one thing as I do believe now. He said as someof the blacks in Africa would go with the hunters who killed thehippipperpothy-mouses, and when they'd killed one, they'd light a fire,and then cut off long strips of the big beast, hold 'em in the flame fora bit, and then eat 'em, and cut off more strips and eat them, and go oneating all day till they could hardly see or move."
"Yes, I remember, Jem; and he said the men ate till they were drunk; andyou said it was all nonsense, for a man couldn't get drunk withoutdrink."
"Yes, Mas' Don; but I was all wrong, and Mike was right. Those wretchesthere are as much like Mike Bannock was when he bored a hole in the rumpuncheon as can be. Eating too much makes people as stupid as drinking;and knowing what I do, I wishes I was in Africa and not here."
"Knowing what you do, Jem?"
"Yes, Mas' Don, knowing what I do. It's what you know too. I can seeyou do."
Don shuddered.
"Don't, Jem, don't; it's too horrid even to think about."
"Yes, dear lad, but we must think about it. These here people's used toit, and done it theirselves, I daresay; and they don't seem to mind; butwe do. Ah, Mas' Don, I'd rather ha' been a sailor all my life, or beenhad by the sharks when we was swimming ashore; for I feel as if I can'tstand this. There, listen!"
There was a sound of shouting and singing from the beach below, and oneof the guards tossed up his spear in a sleepy way, and shouted too, butonly to subside again into a sluggish state of torpidity.
"Why, Mas' Don, by-and-by they'll all be asleep, and if we tried, youand me might get our arms and legs undone, and take a spear apiece, andkill the lot. What do you say?"
"The same as you will, if you think, Jem," replied Don. "No."
"No, it is, Mas' Don, of course. Englishmen couldn't do such a thing asthat."
"But only let us have a fair chance at them again, Jem, and I don'tthink we shall feel very sorry if we slay a few."
"Sorry?" said Jem, between his teeth. "I mean a hundred of 'em atleast, as soon as we can get away; and get away we will."
They sat listening till the horrible feast below was at an end, andeverything became so silent that they concluded that the enemy must beasleep, and began to wonder that the prisoners should all crouchtogether in so apathetic a state. But all at once, when everythingseemed most still, and half the prisoners were dozing, there came theheavy trampling of feet; the guards roused up, and in the dim light ofthe late evening, the bonds which secured the captives' feet wereloosened, and, like a herd of cattle, they were driven down from theplatform upon which the _pah_ was constructed, and along the slope tothe sands, where the canoes rode lightly on the swell.
Into these they were forced to climb, some getting in with alacrity,others slowly and painfully; two or three falling helplessly in thewater, and then, half drowned, being dragged in over the side.
"Not a bit sorry I killed some of 'em," muttered Jem. "They arn't men,Mas' Don, but savage beasts."
It did not take long, for there was plenty of room in the little fleetof canoes. The prisoners were divided, some being placed in the canoeswith the plunder, and treated as if they were spoil. Others weredivided among the long canoes, manned by the enemy, whose own woundedmen, even to the worst, did not hesitate to take to a paddle, and filltheir places. Some of the children whimpered, but an apathetic state ofmisery and dejection seemed to have affected even them, while in one ortwo cases, a blow from a paddle was sufficient to awe the poor littleunfortunates into silence.
As soon as the last man was in his place, a herculean chief waved hishands; one of his followers raised a great wooden trumpet, and blew along, bellowing note; the paddles dipped almost as one into the water,and the men burst into a triumphal chorus, as, for a few hundred yards,the great war canoes which they had captured swept with their freight ofspoil at a rapid rate southward along the shore.
Then the sudden burst of energy ceased, the song broke off, the speeddiminished; and the men slowly dipped their paddles in a heavy, drowsyway. Every now and then one of the warriors ceased paddling, orcontented himself with going through the motion; but still the greatserpent-like vessels glided on, though slowly, while the darkness cameon rapidly, and the water flashed as its phosphorescent inhabitants weredisturbed.
The darkness grew intense, but not for long. Soon a gradual lighteningbecame visible in the east, and suddenly a flash of light glanced alongthe surface of the sea, as the moon slowly rose to give a weird aspectto the long row of dusky warriors sluggishly urging the great canoesonward.
Don and Jem had the good fortune to be together in the largest andleading canoe; and as they sat there in silence, the strangeness of thescene appeared awful. The shore looked almost black, save where themoon illumined the mountainous background; but the sea seemed to havebeen turned into a pale greenish metal, flowing easily in a moltenstate. No one spoke, not a sigh was heard from the prisoners, who musthave been suffering keenly as they cowered down in the boat.
Don sat watching the weird panorama as they went along, asking himselfat times if it was all real, or only the effect of some vivid dream.For it appeared to be impossible that he could have gone through what hehad on the previous night, and be there now, borne who could saywhither, by the successful raiders, who were moving their oarsmechanically as the canoe glided on.
"It must be a dream," he said to himself. "I shall awake soon, and--"
"What a chance, Mas' Don!" said a low voice at his side, to prove to himthat he was awake.
"Chance? What chance?" said Don, starting.
"I don't mean to get away, but for any other tribe to give it to them,and serve 'em as they served our poor friends; for they was friends tous, Mas' Don."
"I wish the wretches could be punished," said Don sadly; "but I see nochance of that."
"Ah! Wait a bit, my lad; you don't know. But what a chance it would b
ewith them all in this state. If it wasn't that I don't care about beingdrowned, I should like to set to work with my pocket knife, and make ahole in the bottom of the canoe."
"It would drown the innocent and the guilty, Jem."
"Ay, that's so, my lad. I say, Mas' Don, arn't you hungry?"
"Yes, I suppose so, Jem. Not hungry; but I feel as if I have had nofood. I am too miserable to be hungry."
"So am I sometimes when my shoulder burns; at other times I feel as if Icould eat wood."
They sat in silence as the moon rose higher, and the long lines ofpaddles in the different boats looked more weird and strange, while inthe distance a mountain top that stood above the long black line oftrees flashed in the moonlight as if emitting silver fire.
"Wonder where they'll take us?" said Jem, at last.
"To their _pah_, I suppose," replied Don, dreamily.
"I s'pose they'll give us something to eat when we get there, eh?"
"I suppose so, Jem. I don't know, and I feel too miserable even to tryand think."
"Ah," said Jem; "that's how those poor women and the wounded prisonersfeel, Mas' Don; but they're only copper-coloured blacks, and we'rewhites. We can't afford to feel as they do. Look here, my lad, howsoon do you think you'll be strong enough to try and escape?"
"I don't know, Jem."
"I say to-morrow."
"Shall you be fit?"
Jem was silent for a few minutes.
"I'm like you, Mas' Don," he said. "I dunno; but I tell you what, wewill not say to-morrow or next day, but make up our minds to go firstchance. What do you say to that?"
"Anything is better than being in the power of such wretches as these,Jem; so let's do as you say."
Jem nodded his head as he sat in the bottom of the canoe in the broadmoonlight, and Don watched the soft silver sea, the black velvet-lookingshore, and the brilliant stars; and then, just as in his faintness,hunger, and misery, he had determined in his own mind that he would beobliged to sit there and suffer the long night through, and beganwondering how long it would be before morning, he became aware of thefact that Nature is bounteously good to those who suffer, for he sawthat Jem kept on nodding his head, as if in acquiescence with that whichhe had said; and then he seemed to subside slowly with his brow againstthe side.
"He's asleep!" said Don to himself. "Poor Jem! He always could go tosleep directly."
This turned Don's thoughts to the times when, after a hard morning'swork, and a hasty dinner, he had seen Jem sit down in a corner with hisback against a tub, and drop off apparently in an instant.
"I wish I could go to sleep and forget all this," Don said to himselfwith a sigh--"all this horror and weariness and misery."
He shook his head: it was impossible; and he looked again at the darkshore that they were passing, at the shimmering sea, and then at thebronzed backs of the warriors as they paddled on in their drowsy,mechanical way.
The movement looked more and more strange as he gazed. The men's bodiesswayed very little, and their arms all along the line looked misty, andseemed to stretch right away into infinity, so far away was the lastrower from the prow. The water flashed with the moonlight on one side,and gleamed pallidly on the other as the blades stirred it;and then they grew more misty and more misty, but kept on_plash_--_plash_--_plash_, and the paddles of the line of canoes behindechoed the sound, or seemed to, as they beat the water, and Jemwhispered softly in his ear,--
"Don't move, Mas' Don, my lad, I'm not tired!"
But he did move, for he started up from where his head had been lying onJem's knees, and the poor fellow smiled at him in the broad morningsunshine. Sunshine, and not moonshine; and Don stared. "Why, Jem," hesaid, "have I been asleep?"
"S'pose so, Mas' Don. I know I have, and when I woke a bit ago, you'dgot your head in my lap, and you was smiling just as if you was enjoyingyour bit of rest."