*CHAPTER XI.*
*WIDESPREAD DESOLATION.*
As the boys rode onward a sharp and bracing wind blew in their faces.The hoar still lay on the grass, and the many pools at which the sheepwere accustomed to drink were coated with ice. But the mysteriousdarkness of the preceding day was over, and the sun shone forth oncemore to gild a desolated world.
Whero and Edwin were alike anxious to avoid meeting any of Mr. Feltham'sshepherds who might have returned to their daily work, for fear theyshould try to stop them.
Whero, with something of his father's skill, shot forward with areckless disregard for the safety of Edwin's neck. But the party theywere pursuing were long out of sight.
As they reached the confines of the sheep-run, an unnatural graynessoverspread the landscape. Yet on they went, encountering clouds of dustwith every breeze. The blades of grass beneath the horse's hoofs, theleaves rustling on the boughs, were all alike loaded with it. But thecattle were still grazing, and despite the clouds of dust constantlyrising, the atmosphere above was clear; and the sunshine cheered theirspirits.
"We will not turn back," said Edwin.
They knew, by what the shepherds had told them, the force of theeruption had expended itself; that danger was over. When the boysascended higher ground and gained a wider view, they could distinguishparties of men marching up in every direction, with their spades ontheir shoulders. For now the personal danger was diminished, theanxiety to ascertain the fate of the unfortunate people living near thesacred heights of Tarawera predominated.
Above the range of hills there was a dense bank of steam, which roselike a wall of snowy white, extending for miles. Whero shook withterror at the sight, but Edwin urged him on. They had missed theshepherds, but they could soon overtake the men now in sight. Yet thelonger they gazed at the huge mass of vapour, the more impenetrable itseemed. It was drifting slowly northwards, where it merged in anothercloud, black and restless, like smoke. It was but the work of thewinds, stirring the vast deposit of dust covering hill and forest.
Changed as the face of the country appeared to be, Whero seemed able totrack his way with something of the unerring instinct of the hound.Emboldened by Edwin's steadier courage, on he went, the gray, drab tintof the volcanic debris deepening around them at every step, until it laynine inches deep on the ground, covering up all trace of vegetation.The poor cattle wandering in the fields were here absolutely withoutfood, and the blue waters of the liquid rivulets were changed to a muddybrown, thick and repulsive. Every footfall of the horse enveloped hisriders in so dense a cloud that eyes were stinging and voices choking,until they began to exchange this dry deposit for the treacherous,deadly mud which had preceded it.
This soon became so thick and sticky poor Beauty could scarcely drag hislegs out again, and their pace grew slower and slower. The time wasgoing fast; they had scarcely gained a mile in an hour. They dare notturn aside to view the ruins of Edwin's home. As they went deeper anddeeper into the bush, the blue mud lay fifteen inches thick on allaround. The unrivalled beauty of the forest was gone. The boys couldsee nothing but a mass of dirt-laden tree trunks, bending and fallingbeneath the weight of their burden. Every leaf was stripped off, andevery branch was broken short. It was a scene of desolation so intenseWhero set up a wild wail of lamentation. All was taken from the Maoriwhen the wealth of the bush was gone.
They gained the road; the mud was two feet thick at least, and Beautysank knee-deep in the sulphurous, steaming slime. How they got him outagain they hardly knew. They backed him amongst the trees, seeking thehigher ground. Fresh mud-holes had opened in unexpected places, and oldones had enlarged to boiling pools, and wide areas of smouldering ashesmarked the site of the many fires the lightning had kindled.
Could the boys have extricated themselves just then, they might havebeen tempted to turn back in sheer dismay. They were forced from theline which Whero had hitherto pursued with the directness which marksthe flight of the crow. The trees were quivering with an earthquakeshock. The hill was trembling visibly beneath their feet. Guided by abreak in the trees, they made their way to the open. Once more the bankof cloud was visible, drifting slowly to the north; but Whero's eyeswere fastened on the distance, where he knew the lofty Tarawera rearedits threefold crest.
Had the mighty chieftains of renown arisen from their graves and built awall of luminous vapour around their sleeping-place? He quailed inabject terror at the sight of the clouds, like ramparts rising into theair for thousands of feet, and veined with wavy lines that glowed andshimmered with the reflection of the flames they held enshrined.
"If the arrows of their lightnings burst forth upon us," shrieked Whero,"how shall such as we escape? Better seek sleep in the cold waters ofthe river than fall before the torture of their presence in the boilingmud and scorching flame."
Edwin, too, was staggered by the strangeness of the sight. It was thesense of unprecedented peril, the presence of dangers which no man couldfathom, which overwhelmed him. But he had enough clear-sighted commonsense to perceive the first thing to be guarded against was the franticterror of the wilful boy who was guiding him; for Whero, in hisexcitement, was urging Beauty to a breakneck speed. But a changeawaited them in the open glade, for there the sun and wind had dried thesurface of the mud, and the clouds of dust settling down upon it hadformed a hard crust.
Edwin breathed more freely as Whero grew calmer. The horse seemed tostep along with ease at first; but his weight was too great. The crustgave way beneath him, and they were soon all floundering in a quagmire.Edwin was flung backwards on a portion of the broken crust, which, likea floating island, was drifting him across the fissure. Whero clunground the horse's neck, clutching wildly at his mane. Beauty, with theintelligence of a fording-horse, pawed through the mud in quest of afirmer foothold, and found it on the trunk of a buried tree.
On this vantage-ground, being lightened of half his load, he waspreparing for a spring. At the first movement Whero went over his head,and Beauty, finding himself his own master, changed his mind. Under anyother circumstances it would have been fun to Edwin to see him feelinghis way along his unseen bridge until he reached the roots of the tree,which, with the many tons of earth clinging in them, rose at least tenfeet into the air, a solitary hillock around which the mud wasconsolidating. Here he took his stand. The boys could see him scrapingaway the earth and nibbling at the young green shoots of budding fernalready forcing their way to the upper air.
Edwin tried to propel his floating island towards the point where Wherowas standing, like a heron, on one leg, trying to scrape the mud fromthe other. He edged about this way and that, until at last the boys werenear enough to clasp hands. When he felt the sinewy gripe of his duskyfriend, Edwin took the meditated leap, and broke into the mud by Whero'sside. He went down upon his hands and knees; but Whero grasped thecollar of his jacket, and kept him from sinking. The crust in thisplace was nearly a foot thick, and when Edwin regained his equilibriumthe two stepped lightly over it, walking like cats, holding each other'shands, and balancing themselves as if they were treading on ice, untilthey reached a precipitous crag, on which it was impossible for the mudto rest. Whero began to climb the steep ascent, reaching down a hand todrag up Edwin after him. They gained a ledge several feet above thelower ground, and here they paused to recover themselves and look aroundfor Beauty. It was a pain, a grief to both the boys to abandon him tohis fate. But they dared not shout his name or attract his attention,for fear he should attempt to cross the treacherous waste which laybetween them.
To dash the tears from their eyes, to speak as if they "would not care"when their hearts felt bursting, was useless; and yet they didit--risking their own necks in a mad desire to rush off where they couldno longer see him, and then returning for a last despairing glance,until Whero had to own he had lost his way.
Another vast column of steam hung in mid air, and when it lifted theycould dis
tinguish the gangs of men hard at work, marking the site ofmore than one annihilated village. They watched them from afar diggingaway the mud in hopes of finding some of the inhabitants alive beneathit. A mill-sail turning in the wind just showed itself above theblue-gray mass, and warned them that the depth of the deposit wasincreasing steadily as they drew nearer and nearer to the sacredmountains. That moving sail told Whero where he was. With one handshading his eyes he scanned the country round.
"The pakeha seeks out the pakeha, but no man turns to the Maori pah!" heexclaimed, stretching his arms towards the wide waste of hateful blue,and pointing to the foul remains of the crystal lake--the lake by whichhe had been born. But where was the ancient whare? where was his home?
Edwin thought only of crossing to the nearest group of men, throwingback the mud, right and left, with a desperate energy. He raised hisvoice and tried to give the "coo" for help, in the fond hope it mightreach their ears. Whero joined in the outcry, and they stood still,shouting. But the hollow echo was their sole reply.
They had wandered wide from the ford, for they were approaching the lakefrom the opposite side.
They sat down on the rocky ledge, and looked at each other in silence.A call from above startled them. It was a shrill but far-off voice thatwas not human.
Whero, with all a Maori's belief in evil spirits, shook with terror, andhis howling shrieks filled the air and drowned the distant sound.
"Oh, hush!" entreated Edwin. "Shut up! do, and let us listen."
They heard it plainly once again--the long-drawn Maori word "Hoke"(Return, return), followed, in quicker accents, by Whero's name. Helooked up terror-stricken, surveying the rocky steep above their heads,and gasped out, almost fainting,--
"You know not where you are. This hill is tapu, and he who breaks tapuis sure to die."
"Bosh!" retorted Edwin. "If you would only speak English I should knowwhat you mean."
His arms went round the poor boy, who seemed ready to die, as many aMaori has died before, of pure fright at the thought of breakingtapu--that is, touching anything the chief has made sacred. But Edwindid not understand his dread.
"Don't be such a coward," he expostulated; "I'll stand by you."
"Hoke! hoke!" rang out the bird-like voice. "Whero, hoke!"
The lofty summit of the hill gave back the cry.
"Go up," urged Edwin. "Some of your people may have taken refuge here.Whatever you mean by tapu, it can't scare me. You daren't go! then letme try."
There was a rift in the scarped side of the hill, where human hands hadcut a foothold here and there, making the ascent possible. Whero creptalong the edge and swung himself over. Edwin crawled after him, andclimbed up with less difficulty than he expected. "Hoke" was pipedabove their heads, and Whero's courage failed him once again. He sankupon a stone, with every nerve quivering. The English boy climbed on,and found himself at last upon a bit of table-land which from its heightseemed to have escaped the general devastation; for the ground was stillcovered with the dried remains of summer vegetation. He passed betweenthe tree-like ferns until he came upon a spot, bare and dry, without asign of a scrap of undergrowth of any kind or at any time. It mighthave been about three-quarters of an acre, and was completely archedover by the inter-woven boughs of four or five gigantic trees, whicheven the storm of mud could not penetrate. Edwin gazed at theirmajestic trunks, full sixty feet in circumference, ranged around himlike the columns of one of nature's temples, with a kind of awe.
The ground on which he stood was hard and dusty, and yet he knew, by thefern and the creeper through which he had reached it, this unusualclearance was not the work of the eruption. It looked as if it mighthave been thus barren for ages.
The roots of the trees had grown out of the ground, and were twisted andcoiled over and over like a group of mighty serpents transfixed andfossilized by ancient sorcery. Among them lay the human relics of abarbarous age. The very stones on which he trod had once been fashionedby the hand of man. There were axe and spear heads, knives and chisels,embedded in the fibrous coils; and were they human skulls and boneswhich lay there whitening by their side? Edwin recoiled in horror. Abird flew down from the leafy dome, and alighted near him, renewing itswailing cry, "Hoke, hoke." Edwin saw by the crimson feathers of itsbreast it was a species of macaw--an escaped pet from some of the buriedhomes around him.
He called it a little nervously at first, as if it had dyed its plumagein the blood of the murdered captives whose bones lay white at his feet.The bird swooped round, beating the air with its outspread wings, anddarting forward as if it had half a mind to perch upon his outstretchedhand.
When were Edwin's pockets ever empty? He was feeling in them now for afew dry crumbs wherewith to tempt the wailing bird.
It fluttered nearer at the welcome sight, for grain or insects werenowhere to be found in that place of dearth. It came at last, andnestled, as it had evidently been taught to nestle by its unknownmaster, close against Edwin's cheek. He grasped it by the wings, andgently smoothed its ruffled feathers.
"Whero," he shouted, running back with it to the brow of the hill,"Whero, it is a bird."
The sound of his own voice seemed to break the spell of horror which hadfallen over him, and he rushed away from serpent root and blighted boughwith which nature herself had written on the hateful spot, "Accursed."
He no longer wondered that the Maori boy refused to go with him. Theslightest suspicion of impatience and contempt had vanished from histone when he spoke again.
"Look at it, Whero."
But Whero looked not at the bird, but at his friend.
"Did you go far?" he asked.
"Only to the top," answered Edwin.
"Not to the top," persisted Whero, lowering his voice and whisperinghoarsely. "There is a spot up there, a fatal spot, where the grassnever grows and the air breathes death. Ask me not for more. Comeaway."
He seized Edwin's arm and drew him backwards. The desolate bird shookitself free, and flew to him with a cry of joy.
"It is my kaka," he exclaimed, "my own dear redbreast, calling out,'Return.'"
"Are you satisfied, Whero?" asked Edwin, in tones of heartfelt sympathy."Have we searched far enough? Shall we go back and try to make our wayto the ford or across to the diggers?"
"Not yet," answered Whero; "I would see the spot where the great hotstone used to be."
"It is buried," Edwin went on, "too deep in the mud for us to find, I'mafraid."
Whero flung himself on the ground, exclaiming wildly, "All lost! allgone! why don't you tangi over me?"
"I would, if it would do you any good; but I don't know how," saidEdwin, bluntly. "We are not sure yet, Whero; your people may haverushed away in the night as we did. We will hope to the last."
In his despair Whero had let the kaka fly, and Edwin watched it wheelingover the space between them and the lake, until it settled down in whatappeared to him to be a hole in the all-pervading mud.
"He has found something," cried Edwin, hurrying down the steep descentin a wave of excitement. Whero shrieked after him to stop him; so onceagain the boys rested awhile, and ate up the remainder of the bread inWhero's pockets. It was Edwin's last resource to revive the wild boy'sfailing courage, and it partially succeeded.
"Edwin," he said, "am I alone in the world--the last of the proud racewho owned the fastness in this steep hill-top and the hot stone byyonder lake? Have I nothing left to me but this awful place where mygrim forefathers held their victory-feast? Will you come and live withme there?"
"In that ogre's castle!" exclaimed Edwin, with a shudder. "A moment agoyou dare not follow me to its threshold, and now--"
"I have been thinking," interrupted Whero, "I must not slight so strangean omen as the kaka's call. Are the mighty dead using his voice to callme back (for I should have fled the place); to remind me what I have nowbecome--a chief of the hills, who can make and unmake tapu as hepleases? Let us go up and swear to be true to ea
ch other for ever andever and ever, as my forefathers used to swear on the eve of battle."
"I will stand by you," said Edwin, earnestly; "on the honour of anEnglishman I will. I'll go down to the lake with you. Better see whatthe kaka has found than climb the hill again. Come."
He put his arm round Whero and began the dangerous descent. A fallentree bridged their path. The tremor of an earthquake was beginning.They flung themselves at once on their faces, for fear they should berolled over down the treacherous steep. As Edwin lay resting his armsagainst the fallen tree, he scanned once more the break in the muddycrust round which the kaka was still wheeling.
What did he see, or what did he fancy he could see at such a distance?Was it a blackened fragment of pumice-stone the bird was hovering overwith its wailing cry, or was it the quaint old carving on the pointedroof of Nga-Hepe's whare? Whero's eye was fastened on the spot. Couldhe too see it? They were afraid of losing their foothold, as the tree,like everything else, was covered with the sticky slime, and crawledalong the trunk one after the other, Whero leading the way. It landedthem on the top of the mud-heap, and they walked across the dried crust,as they had been able to do on the other side.
The stillness of the desert was around them. Little life of any kindseemed to have escaped the widespread destruction. A lonely gull hadflown up with the morning breeze, and was pursuing the dead fish acrossthe lake, as they floated entangled in the drift of the wind-tornfoliage which strewed its surface.
On they walked, until Whero was satisfied that the dead level they werecrossing must cover the site of the Rota Pah. Even the strong wallwhich defended it was buried. Yet it was a wall strong enough and highenough to resist the attack of English assailants.
The wintry breezes sweeping over the lake had dried the mud morethoroughly on this side of the hill. The crust beneath their feet wasthicker and firmer.
The boys ran lightly across the intervening space. As Whero drew near tothe hole, the bird alighted on his shoulder, and putting its beak to hisear, exchanged its painful cries for a soft, low, warbling note.
Edwin was sure now they saw the ridge of the high-peaked roof ofNga-Hepe's whare.
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