The Governor paused for a moment, and stood aghast in astonishment at the horrible-looking object before us, then full of pluck, for of course he did not know how utterly harmless the old fellow was, rushed up to him and said soothingly: “Pierre, how goes the dinner?”
Pierre briefly answered that the dinner had gone to a place where it must have been overcooked and spoilt long ago.
But quoth his Excellency: “I am so hungry.”
“And a ruddy good job too,” howled Pierre. “It is good for kings and governors to be hungry. I myself am Pierre de Feugeron, the great Communist. I myself am Pierre de Feugeron, the noble anarchist, and I scorn to cook the dinners of kings and governors.”
Then seeing the rest of the party, who by this time had arrived and were regarding him with awe and astonishment, he at once consigned the Governor and the rest of us to the same place as he had committed the dinner, and was proceeding with his pas seul when some Maoris, acting on my instructions, took a hand in the game. Exit the noble anarchist, to be tied to a tree for the night, to regain his loyalty, while I had to bustle about to knock up an impromptu dinner for my sorrowing and shocked guests.
CHAPTER XVII
A SOUTH SEA BUBBLE
“So we found no copper island, nor rapid fortunes made,
But by strictly honest trading a dividend we paid.
And Maori Browne converted, with an ancient flint-lock gun,
A mob of ruddy pagans, beneath the southern sun.”
I was in Auckland with a lot of spare time on my hands. I had come down-country intending to go over to Australia, but, having been stuck up by a flooded river for two days, I had missed my boat, and consequently was planted there, as boats at that time were neither so numerous nor ran so often as they do now.