Our vision, beyond a small circle of heaving grey water immediately around us, was shut in by the wall of thick white vapour. With Puketawa at the sheet, I at the steer-oar, we drove along in a little world of our own.
“IT ONLY REMAINED TO SIT TIGHT AND LET THE BOAT SCUD.”
Suddenly, at a yell from Puketawa, I looked up. A wall of rock loomed dark through the mist, before and above us! “Luff!” he screamed, but there was no time. Ere I could sweep her round with the oar a grey roller lifted under our stern, caught us broadside on its crest, rushed us through a providential cleft in the rocks, and, rolling over and over, we, with our belongings, were strewn broadcast on a little, sandy beach. The boat, though shaken, was still sound, and we quickly hauled it beyond the reach of the waves.
A short examination showed us we had been cast up on one of the very islands we had hoped to escape. Still, unpleasant though our predicament was, it could easily have been worse. In that thick haze we might well have been driven on the bluff cliffs of the headland and pounded to a jelly in the surf. At all events, we were on terra firma and could make the best of it till the fog lifted. In our drenched condition the wind was decidedly unpleasant, so, after securing the boat, we made haste to seek shelter on the lee side of the island.
As we groped our way up the rocks and over the top we came across a low-spreading puriri tree. Beneath it we found plenty of dry sticks, and, breaking off some dead branches also, we carried with us a good stock of firewood. I had matches in a waterproof case, and soon, in a snug rock-niche, we were warm and comfortable beside a roaring fire. We had managed to save some six brace of birds from the shipwreck, and these, skinned and toasted on the embers, with the contents of my flask to wash them down, made an excellent supper, with sufficient to spare for breakfast.
Dawn broke clear and calm, with just enough wind to take us on our homeward way. I had sent Puketawa for a further supply of wood, when a shout from above brought me scrambling up the rocks. There he stood, a living embodiment of terror. With wide eyes and dropping jaw he was staring at the hollow tree-trunk. Then I saw what it was. From the orifice, ghastly in the dim light, grinned two fleshless skeletons. Around the hole was heaped a pile of human bones and skulls, while other death’s-heads peered at us from crevices of the rocks. We were in a Maori “wahi-tapu” (cemetery).
THE ESTUARY OF THE MANGAPAI RIVER.
From a Photograph.
It was yet another instance of the sheer “cussedness” of things in general. There were half a hundred islands to choose from; yet malignant Fate, aided by that confounded fog, must needs fix upon Taupiri on which to cast us up—Taupiri, the sacred island, where for centuries the bones of the chiefs had been deposited. It was consecrated to the “mana” (holiness) of their spirits, and frightfully “tapu.” No man might put foot on it and live. And we had not only passed the night there, but—horror of horrors!—had eaten food cooked with wood from the sacred tree! The loose stones, among which we had stumbled in the foggy night and had kicked from our path, were the skulls of the great dead. There was no doubt about it—we were “tapued” up to our necks. That it was purely accidental and through no fault of our own didn’t in the least matter. From the Maori point of view, indeed, it made the case infinitely worse. For Puketawa, whose civilization was, after all, only skin-deep, it was likely to prove a most serious affair. Brought thus face to face with the terrors of ancient superstition, his white man’s education fell to pieces. His mind swung back to the faith of his forbears and the fears of the old beliefs gripped his heart. He was for fleeing the accursed place at once, but, “tapu” or no “tapu,” I wasn’t going without breakfast. Puketawa refused food. Already I fancied he was getting “pourri” (depressed)—no light thing with a Maori, for I had known them before then to die of sheer melancholy. I realized that the accident was bad for me also if the thing should get known. I did not fancy being ostracized by the tribe, my goods confiscated and destroyed, and my house and store burnt by way of purification and to avert the anger of the gods.