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Holmwood, or, The New Zealand Settler: A Tale

Chapter II

Chapter II.

As soon as it was light, the whole family were astir. The native came out of his hut, and seemed anxious to set of at once on his journey home; but Major page 17 Parry explained to him that he could not take so long a walk without first breakfasting. The morning meal was soon prepared by Mrs. Parry and nurse Perkins, while Jane was busy in milking the cows and in other household and farm work. The native ate moderately of it, and seemed to enjoy the cups of hot tea which Emily poured out for him. He took greatly to the young lady, and made his host understand that his own daughter was about her age and size. While breakfasting, the major consulted Mrs. Parry what medicines he should take; and, by her advice, he weighed and measured out several of different characters, that he might give them according to the sort of illness from which the girl was suffering. The major had so much to do that he could ill afford the time which the walk would take up, still he thought it important to secure the good will of a tribe living in his neighbourhood; besides he was anxious to benefit the suffering girl. Harry and David greatly to their delight got leave to accompany their father. It was, however, necessary that Allan and Peter should remain to go on with the work at home, and as Mrs. Parry did not like her husband and sons going alone, it was settled that Tim Grogan should go,—an employment, it must be owned, Tim liked better than work. Tim had given up many of his bad habits, but he had not given up smoking, and sticking his dhudeen in his mouth; and grasping his trusty shillelah, which he declared was cut from a real Irish oak, he prepared to accompany his master.

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The native, who said that his name was Toi Korro, led the way in a direct line across the country, till he struck the stream where Peter had met him; he then went up the bank some little distance, and crossed the river at a ford where the water was about two feet deep. He insisted that David should get on his back, and that he would carry him over. Tim carried over Harry in the same way. After crossing the stream, their path lay through a thick forest of Kauri pine-tree. It grows to a very great height, as straight as an arrow, and is admirably fitted for the masts of ships. Large numbers are used for this purpose. A valuable gum is also procured from this tree; it is, besides, well suited for furniture. The major had as yet gone very little into the interior, and he was particularly struck with the enormous size of the ferns, sixty and seventy feet high, and yet in appearance very like the common ferns in England. Although there are not half the variety of birds in New Zealand that there are in England, yet they collect in considerable numbers about the settlements, and sing very sweetly too. In these dark forests, however, scarcely a bird is to be seen or heard; for a very good reason, the songsters of the feathered tribe like the warm sun and free air, and the open ground, from which insects and grain are to be picked up, so they frequent spots where these can be found.

The chief led the way along the narrow path at a rapid rate, cutting with his axe the tendrils of the creepers which here and there hung across it. He was naturally in a hurry to get back to his daughter, page 19 whom it was clear from the way he spoke, he loved dearly. At last, either the same stream before passed or another was struck. The chief then leading up the bank a little way, the party saw before them a high, very steep hill, or mound, the base of which was washed by the river. On the top of it could be seen some lines of tall railings, or palisades, twisting and turning about in a variety of directions, while above them appeared some large curiously carved figures of animals and human heads, painted red.

“Dat my pah,” said the chief, by which they knew that it was his home.

Line engraving of a Maori pā

A Pah, Or Native Fortified Village.

A very steep winding path led up the hill, following which they reached a small gateway in the page 20 palisade. This led them into a narrow passage between two rows of palisades, formed of trunks of trees, till at length they came to another gateway. This led them into a second passage, which twisted about like the first, and it was not till they reached a third door that they found themselves in the interior of the pah. This was a wide, open space, with huts built about it in different directions, and tall poles, on the top of which appeared the carved figures they had seen at a distance. The gable ends of the huts were also ornamented with carved and painted figures of hideous forms. The huts were built of poles and boughs, thickly roofed with long grass, and had neither doors nor windows. A whole pack of dogs rushed out as the visitors appeared at the inner gateway, barking and yelping, the uproar being increased by the grunting of pigs, the quacking of ducks, the hissing of geese, and the cackling, of hens, and the screaming voices of women. The dogs, however, were soon driven back by the chief, and the women jumping up greeted him by rubbing their noses against his. They were inclined to treat the major and the boys in the same way; but they, having heard of the custom, were prepared for the assault, and put out their hands to shake those of the ladies instead. Tim was not so fortunate, and his snub was, he declared, almost twisted off by the violence of the attack.

“Arrah now, manners is manners, and I've no doubt ye treat me after your own notion of what's right; but I'd rather be after having a sweet kiss from any of ye, or an honest shake of the hand now,” page 21 he exclaimed, as he put back his dhudeen, which he had for a moment taken from his mouth.

The ceremony of introduction to the elder members of the tribe being over, the chief led the way to his own abode which was little superior to the others, except that it had more carved images in front of it. A fire was burning in the middle, which filled the whole hut with smoke; in one corner, on a pile of rugs, lay a girl. By the light that came in at the doorway, Major Parry saw-that she was young and far more pretty than the girls of New Zealand are generally. She kept moving restlessly, and was continually putting her hand up to her head, and moaning as if in great pain: the Major felt her pulse, which was very high. She did not appear to be exactly in a fever, indeed he had to confess to himself that he did not know what was the matter with her. One thing only seemed certain, that she had very little chance of getting well in the thick choking smoke and foul air which filled the hut. “What she most requires is pure air, wholesome food, and perhaps a little cooling medicine,” he said to himself. “That she will not get here, and if the chief will let her come, I am sure that my wife and Nurse Perkins will gladly look after her.”

He made the offer as he proposed, and when the chief understood it, he was very grateful and accepted it gladly. As she was accustomed to live in the open air, there seemed to be no risk in moving her; and under the Major's directions, a litter was soon formed with a roof of boughs, which would protect page 22 her from the sun and air alike. The chief however would not let his visitors depart without partaking of his hospitality. A fire had for some time been burning in a large hole, or native oven, by the side of the hut. The women were set to work to catch some fowls; these in a short space of time were killed and plucked; they had also prepared a nice little fat pig, which they bound round with green leaves. A basketful of fish was also ready for cooking, and another of potatoes.

Tim looked on in silent wonder at this mode of proceeding, of which he had never heard; the boys however, had read about it, and watched the women with less surprise, though with equal interest The nest thing the women did, was to take out all the ashes, and then they put in the pig and the chickens above it, and next a layer of potatoes and more leaves; then the fish, and then more potatoes, and then more leaves; over them they sprinkled a little water, and filled the hole up with leaves, over all was placed a thick layer of earth and sods.

Tim's natural good breeding could scarcely prevent him from bursting into a fit of laughter at the food being cooked in that way.

“Faix, we'll be pretty hungry I'm after thinking before the pig will be fit for dacent Christians to eat, let alone the praties and the fowls and the fish, if that's the way they are after cooking them,” he observed aside to Harry.

“Wait a bit, Tim,” answered Harry; “it is possible to learn a lesson from a painted savage.”

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The time quickly passed away in preparing the litter for the chief's daughter, and in examining the pah.

The major was not surprised that in former wars with the natives, these pahs had given so much trouble to our troops. Neither shot nor shell could make much impression on the huge trunks of trees of which the walls were formed; and when scaled, the assailants were sure to find themselves in a trap, while the defenders lay concealed in holes and burrows under ground, where even bursting shells or rockets could not reach them. If the natives expected to be overcome, they would nearly always escape, without being perceived, into the neighbouring forest. On coming back to the chief's abode, a very savoury steam was perceived ascending from the oven, which the women were just then opening.

“The smell is mighty good, Master Harry,” said Tim, sniffing it up. “That must come from the pig; but it is not in the nature of things that the praties should be done any how.” He almost let his pipe drop from his lips with astonishment, when he saw first the potatoes drawn forth perfectly cooked, and then the fish and the fowl, and lastly the pig smoking hot, and placed in wicker baskets on neat mats, and carried at once to an open verandah in front of the chief's house, where he had invited his guests to take their seats. No knives or forks were to be seen; indeed so thoroughly cooked were the pig and fowls, that a carving knife was not absolutely necessary. The major turned up his cuffs, and the page 24 boys did the same, and each taking a joint in one hand and a potatoe in the other, eat away in the fashion of the chief and other members of his family, who had joined the feast. Tim whose mouth was watering, sprang forward with delight when his master beckoned to him to come and take his seat with the party, and had pretty quickly a leg of the pig in his fist, with a pile of his dearly beloved praties by his side. He could not help nodding his head to the chief after every mouthful to express his satisfaction, adding every now and then, “Bow-bow, Mr. Toi Korro; if you will take it as a compliment, I'm ready to declare that there is not a better cook in all Connermara, and may be in the whole of Old Ireland to boot, than your good lady.”

Tim did ample justice to the feast, though the natives far surpassed him in the quantity they ate; indeed, long after the major and his sons had finished, they continued eating away till not a particle was left for the poor women, who had to cook a fresh supply for themselves. As soon as all the provisions were consumed, a large earthen jar of water flavoured with a herb of a strongly acid flavour was brought round. Tim was doubtful whether, as he had taken the pledge, he could venture to taste it, but seeing his master and the boys drink some, he thought that he might venture to do so.

“Arrah now, Mr. Korry, dear, though your mate and the praties are the best that ever passed my lips, we bate you with the rale crature any how,” he exclaimed, giving a comical look at the chief.

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As soon as the meal was over, the guests rose, not from the table, but from the ground, and Major Parry let Toi Korro understand that it was time to set out. The sick girl was accordingly placed on the litter which had been prepared, and well covered up with mats, so that she could not catch cold. Four young men of the tribe were directed to carry her, two at a time, and with the chief leading, the major and his three companions set forth on their return journey. Whenever the path was wide enough, the bearers went on at so rapid a rate that even the major had much difficulty in keeping up with them; but in some places in the forest the path was so narrow that the chief and the two men who were called to the front had to cut away the underwood and creepers to allow the litter to pass. It was late in the evening, therefore, before the party reached Major Parry's new location, to which he had given the name of Holmwood.

Mrs. Parry and Emily received the sick girl very kindly. They did not at all mind the additional trouble which her coming would cause them, but were very glad to have the opportunity of being useful to a poor native, and of showing those among whom they had come to live, that they had their interests at heart. The young girl did not seem to be the worse for the journey, but she was still suffering very much. Mrs. Parry was equally at fault with her husband as to the nature of her illness. A nice airy room in the new hut was made ready for her, and Nurse Perkins and Jane offered to sit up part of page 26 the night with her, and to give her the cooling medicines which the major prescribed.

One thing chiefly concerned Mrs. Parry, how should she feed the five New Zealanders in addition to her own party? This matter was, however, soon settled by the arrival of four more natives, carrying baskets which contained three little pigs, a dozen fowls and ducks, a number of fish, and a good supply of potatoes. One of the men also undertook to show them how to make a native oven, and to cook the provisions. It was indeed fortunate that they had brought the food, for that night the natives eat up a third of it by themselves. They showed their good feeling in declining to intrude on the major and his party; and while some were making the oven, others built a hut of boughs in which they slept at night. The oven was afterwards found a great convenience, as when once the things to be cooked were put in, they required no further attention till it was time to take them out again. The next morning the chief, confiding his young daughter, Yeda (for that was her name, he said), to the care of Major and Mrs. Parry, took his departure. No alteration had taken place in her illness during the night; she seemed, however, towards the afternoon, to be getting worse, and Mrs. Parry, who was sitting by her, began to regret that the major had brought her there, fearing that it was but to die.

“If she could but understand me, that I might tell her of the love of God for man, which caused Him to send His Son Jesus Christ to die for men, page 27 that all who repent and believe in Him should not perish, but should have eternal life: then I should rejoice that she was brought here, even though she should die. But, poor girl, she cannot understand me, there is no use speaking to her.” Mrs. Parry said this aloud.

A low voice came from the bed on which the sufferer lay, “Yeda know English; good man mission'y talk to Yeda.” These were the first words the native girl had uttered since her arrival.

Mrs. Prry went up to the bed, and as she looked at her, she observed that the skin of the patient was covered over with spots; she examined them carefully, and was certain that they were the marks of the measles. This was the cause of her feeling so ill. Already she was free from pain, and her pulse was more regular than before. As all her own family had had the complaint a short time before they left England, Mrs. Parry and Nurse Perkins knew well how to treat it.

“I am glad Yeda understands English,” said Mrs. Parry, in a gentle voice. “But Yeda must not talk now, must stay still in bed, and take medicine, and soon get well.”

“Yes; Yeda do what white lady says,” murmured the native girl.

The disease was of a severe sort, and had she remained with her own people, her chance of recovery would have been very small. She was now treated with the most watchful care. Abundance of fresh air was allowed to come into the room, at the same page 28 time that she was kept out of a draught, and well covered up. Still it seemed doubtful whether she would recover, and her kind nurses felt great anxiety on her account.

Three days after her arrival, her father came back to inquire about her. It was thought better that he should not see his daughter, lest he should catch the complaint. He went away looking very sad, though he said that he was sure that his white friends would do all that they could for his child.

It appeared that she had just returned from a visit to the daughter of the chief of another tribe, who had been one of her companions at a missionary-school which she had attended for a short time. It must have been during her visit that she caught the complaint; indeed, Toi Korro said that many of the tribe were ill, and that several had died.

Emily, as well as her mother and Nurse Perkins, was constantly in attendance on her young guest, and seemed never to grow weary in watching over her. It was evident that Yeda was touched by all the care and attention she received, and that her heart was full of gratitude.