As to the prisoners confined in the Ware-Atoua, it was an arbitrary taboo which had saved them from the fury of the tribe. Some of the natives, friends and partisans of Kai-Koumou, desisted at once on hearing their chief’s voice, and protected the captives from the rest.
Glenarvan cherished no illusive hopes as to his own fate; nothing but his death could atone for the murder of a chief, and among these people death was only the concluding act of a martyrdom of torture. Glenarvan, therefore, was fully prepared to pay the penalty of the righteous indignation that nerved his arm, but he hoped that the wrath of Kai-Koumou would not extend beyond himself.
What a night he and his companions passed! Who could picture their agonies or measure their sufferings? Robert and Paganel had not been restored to them, but their fate was no doubtful matter. They were too surely the first victims of the frenzied natives. Even McNabbs, who was always sanguine, had abandoned hope. John Mangles was nearly frantic at the sight of Mary Grant’s despair at being separated from her brother. Glenarvan pondered over the terrible request of Lady Helena, who preferred dying by his hand to submitting to torture and slavery. How was he to summon the terrible courage!
“And Mary? who has a right to strike her dead?” thought John, whose heart was broken.
Escape was clearly impossible. Ten warriors, armed to the teeth, kept watch at the door of Ware-Atoua.
The morning of February 13th arrived. No communication had taken place between the natives and the “tabooed” prisoners. A limited supply of provisions was in the house, which the unhappy inmates scarcely touched. Misery deadened the pangs of hunger. The day passed without change, and without hope; the funeral ceremonies of the dead chief would doubtless be the signal for their execution.
Although Glenarvan did not conceal from himself the probability that Kai-Koumou had given up all idea of exchange, the Major still cherished a spark of hope.
“Who knows,” said he, as he reminded Glenarvan of the effect produced on the chief by the death of Kara-Tete—“who knows but that Kai-Koumou, in his heart, is very much obliged to you?”
But even McNabbs’ remarks failed to awaken hope in Glenarvan’s mind. The next day passed without any appearance of preparation for their punishment; and this was the reason of the delay.
The Maories believe that for three days after death the soul inhabits the body, and therefore, for three times twenty-four hours, the corpse remains unburied. This custom was rigorously observed. Till February 15th the “pah” was deserted.