CHAPTER II.
The Wreck of the Mersey Witch.
The Maori is a brown man. His hair is straight, coarse, black, and bright as jet. His eyes are brown, his teeth are pearly white; and, when he smiles, those brown eyes sparkle and those white teeth gleam. A Maori’s smile is one of Nature’s most complete creations.
But as Enoko poked his head out of the door of the hut, his face did not display merriment. Day was breaking; yet he could see nothing but the flying scud and the dim outline of the shore; he could hear nothing but the roar of the breakers, battering the boulders of the beach.
He came out of the hut, his teeth chattering with the rawness of the morning; and made a general survey of the scene.
“It’s too cold,” he muttered in his own language. “There’s too much wind, too much sea.”
With another look at the angry breakers, he went back into the hut. “Tahuna,” he cried, “there’s no fishing to-day—the weather’s bad.”
Tahuna stirred under his blankets, sat up, and said in Maori, “I’ll come and look for myself.”
The two men went out into the cold morning air.
“No,” said Tahuna, “it’s no good—there’s a north-east gale. We had better go back to the pa when the day has well dawned.”