The clamour which followed brought the chief—a splendid figure in his kaitaka and coronet of huia plumes. Hurried question and excited answer gave him the reason of the commotion, and he, too, looked out to sea.
A cry escaped him. Amazement, incredulity, fear were in the tone. "A whale with white wings![51] What can it mean? It is magic or——"
He broke off, staring at his men. His lips were trembling, his eyes round. Great chief though he was, fear wrapped him as a garment.
None answered. Some looked under their lids at the oncoming Thing; some fastened their gaze upon the chief, and every man there muttered a karakia, if so he might avert impending doom.
On came the marvel, growing ever more distinct, and upon the polished decks the astounded Maori could see beings who looked like men, though their outward seeming was strangely different from any men whom the Sons of Maui had ever encountered.
Then a voice was heard, calling something in a strange, harsh tongue. A whistle shrilled; a score or so of the odd forms raced from end to end of what the bewildered Maori now decided must be a canoe of some sort, and with magical swiftness the "white wings" collapsed and lay folded upon the long spars. Another call, a loud, rattling noise, something fell with a mighty splash into the sea, and the mysterious vessel came to rest.
One minute of tense silence. Then a scream went up from the watching Maori.
The strangely garbed forms were human. But their faces! Their faces were white!