CHAPTER VIII
THE STORM BURSTS
The gloom which hung over the fo'c'sle when day at length dawned was in no wise lightened by the futility of all efforts to discover the cause of the weird sounds of the night. George was, perhaps, the only one who had not actually attributed the discordant din to a supernatural source; but since more than one uncommonly odd happening had chanced of late, even he would have found it a relief to be assured upon one point, no matter what.
As the day wore towards evening and the Stella neared the coast, the Maoris crowded into the bows, laughing and singing, as the deep blue line of hills gradually took on natural colours, and showed as forest-clad slopes, fronted by bare, frowning cliffs. Nor were the whites less elated at the approach of the hour of parting, for they were anxious to be relieved of an enforced service, not only irksome in itself, but grown to be fraught with positive danger.
Te Karearea intended to disembark shortly before sunset at Whareongaonga, a point some fifteen miles south of the Bay of Turanga, or Poverty Bay, as Captain Cook had named it, and thence to march inland and disappear in the dense bush which stretched for miles towards the north. As if to forestall any tricks on the part of the white sailors, the brig was kept swinging from one tack to the other all through the afternoon, keeping always a couple of miles off shore, and George, who was using his eyes, liked the look of things less and less; for all the men of the chief's company, fully armed, kept the deck during the whole of the day. Seizing an opportunity, he communicated his fears to Bigham.
'Pooh! You're always looking for bogies, Mr. 'Aughton,' was the mate's sneering reply. 'You don't see me grizzling.'
'You were not very far from grizzling, as you call it, last night,' George was stung to retort.
'That was very different,' protested the mate, flushing through his weather-beaten skin. You weren't too keen yourself about going on deck.'
'You are right,' George admitted frankly. 'I don't think that I ever was so frightened in my life—and by a mere sound, too.'
This conquered Bigham. 'Well, you didn't act so,' he said; 'and that sound was worse than any flesh-and-blood thing, however terrifying. Yet you faced it, whatever it was. No,' affirmed Bigham; 'I never meant to hint as you was wanting in pluck, sir. All I meant was as I don't think the niggers will try on any games, for I judge they'll be only too glad to get rid of us.