CHAPTER FORTY THREE.
A SEARCH IN THE DARK.
Two days' more water journey within easy reach of the verdant shore,past inlet, gulf, bay, and island, round jagged points, about which thewaves beat and foamed; and then, amidst shouting, singing, and endlessbarbaric triumphal clamour, the captured canoes with their loads ofprisoners and spoil were run up to a black beach, where a crowd ofwarriors with their women and children and those of the littleconquering army eagerly awaited their coming.
Utterly worn out, the two English prisoners hardly had the spirit toscan the beautiful nook, through which a foaming stream of water dashed,at whose mouth lay several large war canoes, and close by which was thelarge open _whare_ with its carven posts and grotesque heads, quite avillage of huts being scattered around.
Similarly placed to that which he had helped to defend, Don could seeupon a shoulder of the hill which ran up behind the _whare_, a greatstrongly made _pah_, ready for the tribe to enter should they bebesieged by some enemy.
But the whole scene with its natural beauty, seemed accursed to Don, ashe was half dragged out of the canoe, to stagger and fall upon thesands--the fate of many of the wounded prisoners, who made noresistance, but resigned themselves to their fate.
A scene of rejoicing ensued, in the midst of which fires which had beenlighted as soon as the canoes came in sight, were well used by the womenwho cooked, and before long a banquet was prepared, in which three pigsand a vast number of potatoes formed the principal dishes.
But there was an abundance of fruit, and bowls of a peculiar gruel-likefood, quantities of which were served out to the wretched prisoners,where they squatted together, as dismal a group as could be imagined,and compared their own state with that of the victors, whose receptionwas almost frantic, and whose spoil was passed from hand to hand, to bemarvelled at, or laughed at with contempt.
At another time Don would have turned with disgust from the unattractivemess offered to him, but hunger and thirst made him swallow it eagerly,and the effect was wonderful.
A short time before he had felt ready to lay down and die; but, afterpartaking of the food, he was ready to accept Jem's suggestion that theyshould bathe their hands and faces in the rushing water that foamed byclose at hand, the conquerors being too much occupied with their singingand feasting to pay much heed to them. So they crept to the rocky edgeof the clear, sparkling water, and to their surprise found that it wasquite warm.
But it was none the less refreshing, and as they half lay afterwards onthe sun-warmed rock at the side, watching suspiciously every act oftheir new masters, in dread of that horror which sent a chill throughboth, they felt the refreshing glow send new life and strength throughthem, and as if their vigour were returning with every breath they drew.
"Feel better, Mas' Don?"
"Yes, much."
"So 'm I. If it wasn't for the hole in my shoulder, and it being sostiff, I shouldn't be long before I was all right."
"Does it pain you very much?"
"Come, that's better, Mas' Don," said Jem.
"Better?"
"Yes; you're looking up again, and taking a bit o' interest in things.You quite frightened me, you seemed so down. My shoulder? Well, it dogive it me pretty tidy. I thought I should have had to squeal when Iwas washing just now. But my legs are all right, Mas' Don. How'syourn?"
"My legs?"
"Yes. How soon shall we be ready to cut away?"
"Hush!"
"Oh! There's no one here understands English. When shall it be--to-night?"
"First time there is an opportunity, Jem," said Don, softly.
"That's so, my lad; so every time you get a chance, you eat; and whenyou don't eat you drink, and lie down all you can."
"Do you think any of the men here would try to escape with us?"
Jem shook his head.
"I don't understand 'em, Mas' Don. Seems to me that these chaps are allfight till they're beaten; but as soon as they're beaten, they're likesome horses over a job: they won't try again. No, they're no good tohelp us, and I suppose they mean to take it as it comes."
The two lay in silence now, watching the proceedings of their captors,who were being feasted, till there was a sudden movement, and about adozen men approached them, spear in hand.
At a shouted order the prisoners, wounded and sound, rose up with thewomen and children; and as patiently and apathetically as possible,allowed themselves to be driven up the hill-side to the strongly-built_pah_, through whose gateway they entered, and then threw themselveswearily down in the shadow of the great fence, while their captorssecured the entrance, and a couple of them remained on guard.
"Do I look like a sheep, Mas' Don?" said Jem, as he threw himself on theearth. "Sheep? No, Jem. Why?"
"Because I feels like one, my lad. Driven in here like one of a flock,and this place just like a great pen; and here we are to be kept tillwe're wanted for--Oh, don't look like that, Mas' Don. It was only myfun. I say, you look as white as a wax image."
"Then don't talk that way," said Don, hoarsely. "It is too horrible."
"So it is, dear lad; but it seems to me that they only want to keep usnow for slaves or servants. They're not going to, eh?"
"No, Jem," said Don looking at the great fence.
"Yes, that's just what I think, my lad. Posts like this may keep in NooZealanders, but they won't keep in two English chaps, will they?"
"Do you think if we got away in the woods, we could manage to live,Jem?"
"I think, my lad, if we stop in this here _pah_, we can't manage to atall, so we'll try that other way as soon as we can."
"Do you think it will be cowardly to leave these poor creatures in thepower of the enemy?"
"If we could do 'em any good by staying it would be cowardly; but wecan't do 'em any good. So as soon as you like, as I said before, I'mready for a start. Why, there's fern roots, and fruit, and rivers, andthe sea--Oh, yes, Mas' Don, I think we could pick up a living somehow,till we reached a settlement, or friendly tribe."
Night began to fall soon afterward, and half-a-dozen women came in,bearing more bowls of the gruel-like food, and a couple of baskets ofpotatoes, which were set down near the prisoners, along with a couple ofgreat vessels of water.
"Didn't think I wanted any more yet," said Jem, after eating heartily,for there was an abundance. "Go on, Mas Don; 'tarn't so bad when you'reused to it, but a shovel full of our best West Indy plarntation sugarwouldn't ha' done it any harm to my thinking."
"I have eaten all I care for, Jem," said Don, wearily; and he sat gazingat the great fence which kept them in.
"No," said Jem, softly; "not there, Mas' Don. Just cast your eyes a bitmore to the left. There's quite a rough bit, and if we couldn't climbit, I'm not here."
"But what about your shoulder?"
"I'll climb it with one hand, Mas' Don, or know the reason why."
"But the men on sentry?"
"Tchah! They think we're all too done up and cowardly to try to getaway. I've been thinking it all over, and if you're the same mind asme, off we go to-night."
Don's heart beat fast, and a curious feeling of timidity came over him,consequent upon his weakness, but he mastered it, and, laying his handon his companion's arm, responded,--
"I am ready."
"Then we'll make our hay while the sun shines, and as soon as it'sdark," said Jem, earnestly, and unconscious of the peculiarity of hisuse of the proverb. "Let's lie still just as the others do, and then,I'm sorry for 'em; but this here's a case where we must help ourselves."
Jem lay there on his back as if asleep, when three stalwart Maoris cameround soon after dusk, and took out the bowls which had held the food.They were laughing and talking together, as if in high glee, and it wasapparently about the success of the festival, for they looked at theirprisoners, whom they then seemed to count over, each in turn touchingthe poor creatures with the butt ends of their long spears.
Don felt the hot blood sur
ge through his veins as one of the threeguards gave him a harsh thrust with his spear, but he did not wince,only lay back patiently and waited till the men had gone. They securedthe way into the _pah_, after which they squatted down, and begantalking together in a low voice.
Don listened to them for a time, and then turned over to where Jem layas if asleep.
"Is it dark enough?" he whispered.
"Plenty. I'm ready."
"Can you manage to get over?"
"I will get over," said Jem, almost fiercely. "Wait a little while,Mas' Don."
"I can't wait, Jem," he whispered. "I feel now as if I must act. Butone minute: I don't like leaving these poor creatures in theirhelplessness."
"More do I; but what can we do? They won't stir to help themselves.Only thing seems to me is to get away, and try and find some one whowill come and punish the brutes as brought us here."
Don's heart sank, but he knew that his companion's words were those oftruth, and after a little hesitation he touched Jem with his hand, andthen began to crawl slowly across the open space toward the fence.
He looked back to make sure that Jem was following, but the darkness wasso thick now, that even at that short distance he could not see him.Just then a touch on his foot set him at rest, and he crept softly on,listening to the low muttering of the men at the gate, and wonderingwhether he could find the rough part of the fence to which Jem haddirected his attention.
As he crept on he began to wonder next whether the prisoners would missthem, and do or say anything to call the attention of the guard; but allremained still, save that the Maoris laughed aloud at something one ofthem had said.
This gave him confidence, and ceasing his crawling movement, he rose tohis hands and feet, and crept on all fours to the fence, where he rosenow to an erect position, and began to feel about for the rough post.
Jem was up and by him directly after. Don placed his lips to his ear.
"Whereabouts was it?"
"Somewhere 'bout here. You try one way, and I'll try the other,"whispered Jem; and then Don gripped his arm, and they stood listening,for a faint rustling sound seemed to come from outside.
The noise was not repeated; but for quite half an hour they remainedlistening, till, gaining courage from the silence--the Maori guard onlyspeaking from time to time, and then in a low, drowsy voice--Don beganto follow Jem's suggestion, feeling post after post, and sometimespassing his arm through. But every one of the stout pales he touchedwas smooth and unclimbable without some help; and thinking that perhapshe had missed the place, he began to move back in the darkness,straining his ears the while to catch any sound made by his companion.
But all was perfectly still, and every pale he touched was smooth andregular, set, too, so close to the next that there was not the slightestchance of even a child creeping through.
All at once there was a rustling sound on his left.
"Jem has found it," he thought; and he pressed forward toward where hehad parted from Jem, passing one hand along the pales, the otherextended so as to touch his companion as soon as they were near.
The rustling sound again close at hand; but he dare not speak, onlycreep on in the dense blackness, straining his eyes to see; and his earsto catch his companion's breath.
"Ah!"
Don uttered a sigh of satisfaction, for it was painful to be alone atsuch a time, and he had at last touched the strong sturdy arm which wasslightly withdrawn, and then the hand gripped him firmly.
Don remained motionless, listening for the danger which must bethreatening, or else Jem would have spoken; but at last the silencebecame so irksome that the prisoner raised his left hand to grasp Jem'swrist.
But it was not Jem's wrist. It was bigger and stouter; and quick asthought Don ran his hand along the arm to force back the holder of hisarm, when to his horror, he found that the limb had been thrust throughone of the openings of the fence, and he was a prisoner to some fiercechief who had suspected the design to escape, held in so strong a grip,that had he dared to struggle to free himself, it would not have beenpossible to drag the fettered arm away.
"Jem! Help!" was on his lips, but he uttered no cry, only breathlesslylistened to a deep panting from the outer side of the _pah_.
Adventures of Don Lavington: Nolens Volens Page 43
