Maori and Settler: A Story of The New Zealand War

by G. A. Henty

The voyage had produced a very marked change in Mr. Renshaw. It had brought him in far closer connection with his children than he had ever been before, with results advantageous to each. Hitherto they had scarcely ever seen him except at meals, and even at these times his thoughts were so wholly taken up with the writings on which he was engaged that he had taken but little part in the general conversation beyond giving a willing assent to any request they made, and evincing no interest whatever in their plans and amusements.

Now, although for four or five hours a day he worked diligently at his study of the Maori language, he was at other times ready to join in what was going on. He often walked the deck by the hour with Wilfrid and Marion, and in that time learned far more of their past life, of their acquaintances and amusements at their old home, than he had ever known before. He was genial and chatty with all the other passengers, and the astonishment of his children was unbounded when he began to take a lively part in the various amusements by which the passengers whiled away the long hours, and played at deck quoits and bull. The latter game consists of a board divided into twelve squares, numbered one to ten, with two having bulls' heads upon them; leaden discs covered with canvas are thrown on to this board, counting according to the number on which they fall, ten being lost for each quoit lodged on a square marked by a bull's head.

On the evening of the day before the shores of New Zealand came in sight Mr. Renshaw was sitting by his wife. "The voyage is just finished, Helen," he said. "It has been a pleasant time. I am sorry it is over."

"A very pleasant time, Alfred," she replied, "one of the most pleasant I have ever spent."

"I see now," he went on, "that I have made a mistake of my life, and instead of making an amusement of my hobby for archæology have thrown away everything for it. I have been worse than selfish. I have utterly neglected you and the children. Why, I seem only to have made an acquaintance with them since we came on board a ship. I see now, dear, that I have broken my marriage vows to you. I have always loved you and always honoured you, but I have altogether failed to cherish you."

"You have always been good and kind, Alfred," she said softly.

"A man may be good and kind to a dog, Helen; but that is not all that a wife has a right to expect. I see now that I have blundered miserably. I cannot change my nature altogether, dear; that is too late. I cannot develop a fund of energy by merely wishing for it; but I can make the happiness of my wife and children my first thought and object, and my own pursuits the second. I thought the loss of our money was a terrible misfortune. I do not think so now. I feel that I have got my wife again and have gained two children, and whatever comes of our venture here I shall feel that the failure of the bank has brought undeserved happiness to me."

"And to me also," Mrs. Renshaw said softly as she pressed her husband's hand. "I feel sure that we shall all be happier than we have ever been before. Not that we have been unhappy, dear, very far from it; still you have not been our life and centre, and it has been so different since the voyage began."

"He is not half a bad fellow, after all," Mr. Atherton said, as leaning against the bulwark smoking his cigar he had glanced across at the husband and wife seated next to each other talking in low tones, and evidently seeing nothing of what was passing around them. "He has brightened up wonderfully since we started. Of course he will never be a strong man, and is no more fit for a settler's life than he is for a habitation in the moon. Still, he is getting more like other people. His thoughts are no longer two or three thousand years back. He has become a sociable and pleasant fellow, and I am sure he is very fond of his wife and children. It is a pity he has not more backbone. Still, I think the general outlook is better than I expected. Taking it altogether it has been as pleasant a voyage as I have ever made. There is the satisfaction too that one may see something of one's fellow-passengers after we land. This northern island is not, after all, such a very big place. That is the worst of homeward voyages. People who get to know and like each other when they arrive in port scatter like a bomb-shell in every direction, and the chances are against your ever running up against any of them afterwards."

Somewhat similar ideas occupied the mind of most of the passengers that evening. The voyage had been a pleasant one, and they were almost sorry that it was over; but there was a pleasurable excitement at the thought that they should next day see the land that was to be their home, and the knowledge that they should all be staying for a few days at Wellington seemed to postpone the break-up of their party for some little time.