"I have nothing to reply," said Tetahiti. "My mind is as dark as your own; yet I cannot believe that Christian wishes to shame us."
"Why, then, should he do so?" Minarii asked. "A chief does what he wills. Christian and Young shall both be killed," he continued, quietly. "Let their deaths be at my hands. Even though it were as you have said, do you not see that they must die? The blood of their countrymen would cry out for ours. Christian and Young are men. They would take their just revenge upon us."
Tetahiti was long in replying. "It is true," he said at length. "There is no other way. But understand this, Minarii: he who kills Christian shall call me friend no longer."
"Let that be as it will," Minarii replied, grimly. "The island is large enough. You can go with your women to one side. I will go with mine to the other."
"Minarii," said Tetahiti, "Brown is your friend. Is he to be spared?"
"He is like my brother, a younger brother. He has nothing but good in his heart. He will see us coming and suspect nothing. Who could strike him down?"
"It can be done," said Te Moa. "Let him be among the last when our blood is hot and the lust for killing upon us all. I could do it then."
"If Christian is not to be spared, Brown shall die," said Tetahiti.
"I see that it must be so," Minarii replied; "but you shall not touch him, Te Moa! Tetahiti shall kill my friend, since I am to kill his. But see that you do it swiftly, you man from Tupuai!"
"My hand shall be as steady as your own. His death shall be as swift as you make that of Christian."
"It remains to be seen whether this land will seem as large as I thought, with the white men dead," said Minarii. "It may be too small to hold us two."
When Tetahiti replied, the anger was gone from his voice. "Enough, Minarii. Let there be no hot words between us. I see that my friend must die. Can you be blind to the need of death for your own? His life, alone, among the slayers of his countrymen would seem to him worse than death. Do you not see this?"
"I see it," Minarii replied, coldly. "Let no more be said of him."
"One remains to be spoken of. What of Smith?"
"A brave and good man who has done none of us harm," said Nihau.
"Evil is the need that calls for his death."
"There is no other way," said Minarii. "It must be as Nihau says." They were silent for some time; then Minarii again spoke. "I say this for you, Nihau, and Te Moa. We four have nine to kill. There must be no blundering, and you must do exactly as we say."
"So it shall be," Nihau replied.
"The plan shall be in your hands, Minarii," said Tetahiti. "It falls to you of right as the older man."
"I am content," Minarii replied, "and I must be obeyed as you would obey a chief in war."
"It is agreed," said Tetahiti.
"This is not war, and it will be a shame to us forever that we must kill men as hogs are killed for the oven; yet it must be done."
"If we used no secrecy in this affair, Minarii, but challenged those five to fight us four?" asked Tetahiti.
"That is spoken like a chief," said Minarii. "It is what I, myself, would most desire, but Christian would never allow them to accept such a challenge; then our purpose would be known and our chance for killing them gone."
"We could wait," said Nihau, "making a pretence of friendship until their minds were again at rest. When they believed we had forgotten we could fall upon them as we plan to do now."
"Speak no more of this," said Minarii, sternly. "Could you wait in patience for such a time? If I have my way they shall all be dead before another sun has set."
"If it is willed," said Tetahiti. "That must first be known."
"It is willed that they shall die; that is certain," said Minarii. "Whether or not it shall be in the coming day we shall soon know." The strip of sky above them was now suffused with a faint ashy light, sifting like impalpable dust into the gloom of the ravine. Soon the dim outlines of trees and rocks and the crags above them could be discerned, and the forms of the men, who had long been only voices in the darkness, were revealed to each other. Minarii sat by the boulder where he had first halted. He was a man of commanding presence. Naked, save for the strip of bark cloth about his loins, he seemed equally unconscious of the chill dampness of the night air and of the long fatigue of his motionless position. Tetahiti sat near him, his back to a tree and his legs outstretched. The thick mantle of tapa around his shoulders was wet and limp with the heavy night dews. Nihau and Te Moa were seated on the lowest of the roughly laid stone steps that led to the marae . The ravine was extremely narrow at this point, and beyond the stone platform the fern and moss-covered head wall rose toward the ribbon of sky in a series of giant steps of basaltic rock.
Presently Minarii rose. Nihau and Te Moa made way for him as he mounted the stone staircase to the platform of the marae . Tetahiti removed his mantle and followed, the other two bringing up the rear. They waited in silence at the summit of the staircase while Minarii retired to a small thatched house at one side of the marae . He appeared a moment later in his ceremonial robes, whereupon Tetahiti proceeded to the rocky recess where the casket containing the god was kept. This was brought to the altar stone in the centre of the platform. All four now took their places at the kneeling stones and the ceremony of awakening the god was carried out. A moment of deep silence followed; then Minarii made his prayer:—
"Our God, who listens: hear us!
Judge, Thou, if we have summoned Thee amiss.
Judge, Thou, if our wrongs are great and our cause just.
Known to Thee is the cause before tongue can speak;
Therefore it is told.
If our anger is Thy anger, let it be known!
If the time favours, speak!"
A few moments later the four men filed down from the marae , and as soon as they were beyond sacred ground Minarii halted and turned to face his companions.
"Our success is sure," he said, "and now we must not rest until they are all dead."
"What is first to be done?" asked Tetahiti.
"You and I should return to the village," said Minarii. "Our absence may be wondered at, but if we two go down they will suspect nothing."
"I have promised to obey you," said Tetahiti, "but this thing I cannot do. Maimiti's child must now have come. I cannot face her and Christian, knowing what we have to do."
"That was to be expected, and we shall not go down," Minarii replied. "Nihau alone shall go."
"What shall I do there?" Nihau asked.
"Tell the first woman you meet that I am hunting pig, with Williams, and that you three will be fishing until evening from the rocks below the western valley. Go now and return quickly."
§ § §
The path from the settlement to the western valley crossed the high lands a little below the Goat-House Peak. Here it branched, a second trail leading southward along the ridge to the partially clear lands of the Auté Valley. The ridge was bare at the junction of the two paths, and at this point was a rustic bench used as a resting place on journeys across the island. Not far to the right rose a small heavily wooded spur which commanded a view of the ridge and of the valleys on either side. Here Minarii, Tetahiti, and Te Moa now lay concealed, awaiting the return of Nihau.
The sun had not yet risen, but a few ribbed clouds, high in air, glowed with saffron-coloured light. A faint easterly breeze was blowing, fragrant with the breath of sea and land. The summit of the spur was only a few yards in extent. Tetahiti and Te Moa, their muskets beside them, lay at a point directly above the junction of the two paths. Minarii watched the steep approach from the settlement. That people were astir there was evident from the threadlike columns of wood smoke that rose straight into the air above the forests until caught by the breeze, which spread them out in gossamer-like canopies above the dwelling houses. The houses themselves were hidden from view; not even the clearings, some of them of considerable extent, could be seen from above. Save for the smoke, the island, in wh
atever direction, presented the appearance of a solitude that had never been disturbed by the presence of man.
Half an hour passed. Minarii crept back to where the others were lying. A moment later Nihau appeared; he crossed the open space by the rustic bench and plunged into the thicket to the right. When he had joined them the four men crouched close, talking in low voices.
"They suspect nothing," said Nihau. "I met Nanai, Moetua, and Susannah on their way to the rock cistern. They will be making tapa to-day."
"You saw Christian?" asked Tetahiti.
"No. He and Young are still at Christian's house. Maimiti's child was born just before the dawn."
"Is the child a boy or a girl?"
"A girl."
"What men have you seen?" asked Minarii.
"Only Smith, carrying water down from the spring to Christian's house."
"Minarii, it is a hard thing to kill Christian on this day when his child is born," said Tetahiti.
"It is a hard thing," Minarii replied, "nevertheless we shall do as we have planned, and now two of us shall go quickly to Williams's house and not return to this place until he is dead."
"Then he shall fall at my hands," said Tetahiti. "Christian may work in his yam garden to-day. He may be the first to come this way and I would not be the one left to meet him here."
"That is as it should be," said Minarii. "Te Moa shall go with you. See that Williams's woman is not allowed to escape. Take her and bind her. Carry her to the lower end of the small valley behind Williams's house. She must be left there until we come to release her."
"It shall be done," said Tetahiti.
He grasped his musket and was about to rise when Minarii laid a hand on his arm. A moment later Hutia appeared on the path leading from Williams's house. She carried a basket with a tapa mallet projecting from it, and was humming softly to herself as she sauntered along the path. Upon reaching the bench she seated herself there for a moment to examine a scratch on her leg. She wet a finger and rubbed the place; then she held her small pretty hands out before her, regarding them approvingly as she turned them this way and that. The valley was all golden now in the light of the just-risen sun. The girl rose and stood for a moment looking down over the forests. Still singing, she went lightly down the path and disappeared among the trees.
"It is plain from this that our god was not awakened unwisely," said Minarii. "He is ordering events to suit our purposes and now none of you can doubt that this is the day appointed for what we must do."
"I see it," said Tetahiti. "Wait here. We shall soon return."
Followed by Te Moa, he made his way through the thick bush below the spur, and was soon lost to view.
"It will be well if Christian comes now," said Nihau.
"Nothing shall be done here," said Minarii. "If any turn into the path for the Auté Valley, we will follow. If they go down into the western valley, we will wait here until Tetahiti returns. Now watch and speak no more."
§ § §
Christian and Young were seated in a small open pavilion on the seaward side of Christian's house. Christian held his eldest child, now a sturdy lad of three years, on his lap.
"You must make haste, Ned," he was saying, "else I shall have such a start as you will never be able to overcome."
Young smiled. "Taurua and I are both envious of you and Maimiti," he replied. "The poor girl is beginning to fear that we are to have no children."
"Taurua? Nonsense! She'll bear you a dozen before she's through. What a difference children will make, here, in a few years' time! What a change they have brought already!"
"What are we to do in the matter of their education? Have you considered the matter at all?"
"Mine shall have none, in our sense of the word," Christian replied. "You shan't teach them to read and write?"
"What end would it serve? Consider the difficulty we should have in trying to give children, who will know life only as they see it here, a conception of our world, our religion. Let their mothers' religion be theirs as well. Save for the cult of Oro, the war god, the Indian beliefs are as beautiful as our own, and in many respects less stern and savage. We believe in God, Ned; so do they. It would be a mistake, I think, to mingle the two conceptions."
"You may be right," Young replied, doubtfully; "and yet, when I think of the future..."
"When our children are grown, you mean?"
"Yes. What would our parents think, could they see their grandchildren, brought up as heathens, worshiping in the Indian fashion?"
Christian smiled, bleakly. "There's small chance of their ever knowing of these grandchildren."
They were silent for some time. Christian sat stroking the thick black hair of the solemn little lad on his lap. "If the chance were offered, Ned, of looking into the future, would you accept it?"
"I should want time to consider the matter," Young replied.
"I would; whatever it might reveal, I should like to know. What would I not give to see this boy, twenty years hence, and the second lad, and the little daughter born this morning! God grant that their lives may be happier than mine has been! It is strange to think that they will never know any land but this!"
"We can't be certain of that."
"Not completely certain, but chances are strongly against any other possibility. We must make it a happy place for them. We can and we shall," he added, earnestly. "But get you home, Ned, and sleep. Your eyes look heavy enough after this all-night vigil."
"They are, I admit. And what of yourself? Why not come to my house for a little rest? We shan't be disturbed there."
"No, I feel thoroughly refreshed, now that Maimiti's ordeal is over. This evening I shall call the men together. Whether they will or no, the division of land shall be altered to include the Indians and on equal terms with ourselves."
"It is a wise decision, Christian; one we shall never regret, I am certain of that."
Christian accompanied his friend a little distance along the path. Returning to the house, he tiptoed to the door of Maimiti's chamber and opened it gently. Balhadi sat crosslegged on the floor by the side of the bed. The newly born infant lay asleep in a cradle made of one of Christian's sea chests. He crossed the room softly and stood for a moment looking down at Maimiti. She opened her eyes and smiled wanly up at him. "I knew you had come," she said. "I heard you in my sleep."
He knelt down beside the bed, stroking her hair tenderly. She took his other hand in both of hers.
"Aué , Christian! Such a time this little fledgling gave me! Her brothers came so easily, but I thought she would never come."
"I know, dear. Are you comfortable now?"
"Yes; how good it is to rest! Does she please you, this little daughter?"
"She will be like you, Maimiti. Balhadi and Taurua both say so. Already I love her."
"There—I am content. Balhadi, let me have her...Oh, the darling! How pretty she is!"
Balhadi laid the sleeping child in the mother's arms, and a moment later Maimiti herself had fallen into a profound slumber.
§ § §
On the spur overlooking the ridge, Minarii and Nihau were still waiting, so well concealed that no scrutiny from below could have revealed their hiding place; nevertheless, they had a clear view of the ridge and of the bench there which faced eastward, a little to the left of the path. The sun was well above the horizon when the sound of voices was heard from below, and shortly afterwards Mills appeared, followed by Martin. The men were bare to the waist and wore well-patched seamen's trousers chopped off at the knee. Their heads were protected by handkerchiefs knotted at the four corners. Upon reaching the summit of the ridge they halted. Martin walked to the bench and sat down.
"Do as ye like, John," he said, "I'll have a blow."
"Aye," said Mills, "ye'd set the day long if ye could have yer way."
"Where's the call for haste? Come, set ye down, man, and cool off. There'll be time enough to sweat afore the day's done."
Mills joined his comp
anion, and for a time the two men had no further speech.
"Have ye seen Christian this morning?" Martin asked, presently. Mills shook his head. "My woman was over half the night. This bairn's a girl, she says."
"Aye; that makes seven, all told, for the lot of us, and three of 'em Christian's."
"And where's yours?" Mills asked. "What's wrong with ye, Marty, that your woman's not thrown a foal in three years?"
"Ye've no great call to boast, with the one," Martin replied. "The fault's Susannah's—that I'll warrant."
"Aye, lay it to the woman," Mills replied scornfully.
"And why not? I board her times enough. If she was a wench from home, now, she'd be droppin' her young 'un a year, reg'lar as clockwork. She's bloody stubborn, is Susannah."
"Is she takin' to ye better now?"
"She's not whimperin' for Tahiti all the while, the way she was. I've beat that out of her...What's that? A shot, wasn't it?"
"Aye. That'll be Williams. Huntin' pig, I reckon."
"I've a mind to go myself this afternoon; there's a fine lot o' pig tannin' wild in the gullies yonder. What do ye say we invite ourselves to dinner with Jack? I've not seen him this week past."
"I'm willin'; but come along now. We've work and to spare, to get through afore dinner time."
"Damn yer eyes, John! Can't ye set for half an hour? The day's young yet."
"Dawdle if ye like, ye lazy hound! I'm goin'."
"Fetch my axe from the tool-house; I'll be along directly," Martin called after him. Mills went on without replying and was lost to view below the crest of the ridge.
§ § §
Nihau turned slightly and slipped his musket forward, glancing at Minarii as he did so. The chief, without turning his head, stretched out a hand to stay him. In the stillness of the early morning the crowing of the cocks could be heard and the rhythmical sound of tapa mallets in the valley below. Martin sat leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped loosely, gazing vacantly at the ground between his bare feet. Presently he turned to look down the path along the ridge to his right. Tetahiti and Te Moa were approaching, their bodies half hidden by the fern on either side of the path. After a casual glance, Martin turned away again. At sight of him, Tetahiti stopped short, then came quickly on, changing his musket from his right hand to his left. As they neared, Martin again turned his head slightly to give them a contemptuous glance.
Pitcairn's Island Page 17
