The Adventures of Don Lavington Part 78

A wild shriek followed his words, and Don saw that they were but too true.

CHAPTER THIRTY NINE.

WAR.

Tomati soon showed the reason for his elevation to the position of chief among the Maoris, for, in addition to being a man of commanding presence and great strength, his adventurous life had given him quickness and decision in his actions, which told with a savage race none too ready to discriminate.

He rushed out of the _pah_, and caught the man by the shoulder, questioned him, turned him over to a couple of his friends to be doctored, and then in a loud voice informed the excited crowd that the danger was not imminent, following up this announcement with orders to go on strengthening the stockade.

He was instantly obeyed, his cool manner giving his followers confidence; and they went on working hard at securing certain spots and strengthening the entrance, but always with their spears close at hand.

There was another shout from a sentry, and again the whole tribe was electrified, women and children huddling under shelter, and the warriors seizing their weapons.

This time a scout came running in uninjured and with his spear to announce the nearer approach of the enemy.

Tomati received his news coolly enough, and then, after a word or two with Ngati, signed to the man to join the defenders, while two fresh scouts were sent out to spy the neighbourhood, and keep the chiefs well informed of the coming danger.

Ngati's eyes seemed to flash, and there was a savage rigidity in his countenance that suggested hard times for the man who attacked him; but he seemed to place the most implicit confidence in Tomati, obeying his slightest suggestion, and evidently settling himself into the place of lieutenant to the white captain.

After the first wailing and tears, the women and children settled down in their shelter quite as a matter of course, and as if such an event as this were no novelty in their social history. Once within the _pah_, and surrounded by stout fighting men on whom they could depend, they seemed quite satisfied, and full of confidence in the result of an attack, and this took Jem's notice.

"Can't be much danger," he said, half contemptuously, "or these here wouldn't take it so coolly."

"But it looks as if there was going to be a desperate fight."

"Tchah! Not that, Mas' Don."

"But look at that scout who ran in. He was hurt."

"So is a boy who has had his head punched, and whose nose bleeds. There won't be no real fighting, my lad. I mean men being killed, and that sort o' thing."

"Think not, Jem?"

"Sure of it, my lad. T'other side 'll come up and dance a war-dance, and shake their spears at our lot. Then our lot 'll dance up and down like jack-jumpers, and make faces, and put out their tongues at 'em, and call 'em names. I know their ways; and then they'll all yell out, and shout; and then the others 'll dance another war-dance, and shout in Noo Zealandee that they'll kill and eat us all, and our lot'll say they'd like to see 'em do it, and that'll be all."

Don shook his head. The preparations looked too genuine.

"Ah, you'll see," continued Jem. "Then one lot 'll laugh, and say you're obliged to go, and t'other lot 'll come back again, and they'll call one another more names, and finish off with killing pigs, and eating till they can't eat no more."

"You seem to know all about it, Jem."

"Well, anybody could know as much as that," said Jem, going to the side and taking up a bundle formed with one of the native blankets, which he began to undo.

"What have you got there?"

"You just wait a minute," said Jem, with a dry look. "There! Didn't know that was the arm chest, did you?"

He unrolled and took out a cutla.s.s and two pistols, with the ammunition, and looked up smilingly at Don.

"There!" he said, "what do you think o' them?"

"I'd forgotten all about them, Jem."

"I hadn't, my lad. There you are. Buckle on that cutlash."

"No; you had better have that, Jem. I should never use it."

"Oh, yes, you would, my lad, if it was wanted. On with it."

Don reluctantly buckled on the weapon, and Jem solemnly charged the pistols, giving Don one, and taking the other to stick in his own waistbelt.

"There," he said, retaking the spear given to him. "Don't you feel like fighting now?"

"No, Jem; not a bit."

"You don't?"

"No. Do you?"

"Well, if you put it in that way," said Jem, rubbing his ear, "I can't say as I do. You can't feel to want to do much in that way till some one hurts you. Then it's different."

"It's horrible, Jem!"

"Well, I suppose it is; but don't you get looking like that. There'll be no fighting here. I say, Mas' Don, it would be a bit of a game, though, to stick the pynte of this here spear a little way into one of the savages. Wonder what he'd say."

"Ah! My pakeha!" cried a voice just behind them; and they turned sharply, to find themselves face to face with Ngati, who patted Don on the shoulder, and then pointed to his cutla.s.s and pistol.

"Hah!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, with a deep breath; and then, without warning, s.n.a.t.c.hed Don's spear from his hand, threw himself into a series of wild att.i.tudes, and went through the action of one engaged in an encounter with an enemy, stabbing, parrying, dodging, and darting here and there in a way that suggested instant immolation for the unfortunate he encountered.

"Look at him, Mas' Don," whispered Jem. "Look at him pretending.

That's the way they fight. By-an'-by, you'll see lots o' that, but you mark my words, none on 'em won't go nigh enough to hurt one another."

Ngati ceased as suddenly as he had begun, returned the spear to Don, and seemed to intimate that he should go through the same performance.

"You wait a bit, old chap!" cried Jem. "We don't fight that way."

"Hah!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Ngati, and he ran across to a portion of the _pah_ where several of his warriors were busily binding some of the posts more securely.

"It do make me laugh," said Jem; "but I s'pose all that bouncing helps 'em. Poor things. Mas' Don, you and I ought to be werry thankful as we was born in Bristol, and that Bristol's in old England. Say, shall you give any one a chop if it does come to a fight?"

Don shook his head.

Jem laughed.

"If it warn't for wasting the powder, I tell you what we'd do. Get up a-top yonder where we could lean over the palings, wait till the other chaps comes up, and then shoot over their heads with the pistols.

That'd make some of 'em run."