On their arrival, the captives were terribly impressed at sight of the heads that ornamented the stakes of the second enclosure. Lady Helena and Mary Grant turned away their eyes with more of disgust than terror. These heads had most of them belonged to hostile chiefs, fallen in battle, whose bodies had served as food for the conquerors. The geographer knew them to be such by their hollow and eyeless sockets!
In Kai-Koumou’s pah only the heads of his enemies formed this frightful museum; and here, doubtless, more than one English skull had served to increase the size of the chief’s collection.
His hut, among those belonging to warriors of lower rank, stood at the rear of the pah, in front of a large open terrace. This structure was built of stakes, interlaced with branches, and lined inside with flax matting.
Only one opening gave access to the dwelling. A thick curtain, made of a vegetable tissue, served as a door. The roof projected so as to form a watershed. Several faces, carved at the ends of the rafters, adorned the hut, and the curtain was covered with various imitations of foliage, symbolical figures, monsters, and graceful sculpturing, a curious piece of work, fashioned by the scissors of the native decorators.
Inside of the habitation the floor was made of hard-trodden earth, and raised six inches above the ground. Several rush screens and some mattresses, covered with woven matting of long leaves and twigs, served as beds. In the middle of the room a hole in a stone formed the fireplace, and another in the roof answered for a chimney.
The smoke, when it became sufficiently thick, perforce escaped at this outlet, but it of course blackened the walls of the house.
On one side of the hut were storehouses, containing the chief’s provisions, his harvest of flax, potatoes, and edible ferns, and the ovens where the various articles of food were cooked by contact with heated stones. Farther off, in small pens, pigs and goats were confined, and dogs ran about seeking their scanty sustenance. They were rather poorly kept, for animals that formed the Maori daily food.
Glenarvan and his companions had taken in the whole at a glance. They awaited beside an empty hut the good pleasure of the chief, exposed to the insults of a crowd of old women, who surrounded them like harpies, and threatened them with their fists, crying and howling. Several English words that passed their lips clearly indicated that they were demanding immediate vengeance.
In the midst of these cries and threats, Lady Helena affected a calmness that she could not feel in her heart. This courageous woman, in order that her husband’s coolness might not forsake him, heroically controlled her emotions. Poor Mary Grant felt herself growing weak, and Captain Mangles supported her, ready to die in her defence. The others endured this torrent of invectives in various ways, either indifferent like the major, or increasingly annoyed like Paganel.
Glenarvan, wishing to relieve Lady Helena from the assaults of these shrews, boldly approached Kai-Koumou, and, pointing to the hideous throng, said:
“Drive them away!”
The Maori chief gazed steadily at his prisoner without replying. Then with a gesture he silenced the noisy horde. Glenarvan bowed in token of thanks, and slowly resumed his place among his friends.
Kai-Koumou, fearing an insurrection of the fanatics of his tribe, now led his captives to a sacred place, situated at the other end of the pah, on the edge of a precipice. This hut rested against a rock that rose a hundred feet above it and was a steep boundary to this side of the fortification. In this consecrated temple the priests, or arikis, instruct the New Zealanders. The building was spacious and tightly closed, and contained the holy and chosen food of the god.
Here the prisoners, temporarily sheltered from the fury of the natives, stretched themselves on the flax mats. Lady Helena, her strength exhausted and her energy overcome, sank into her husband’s arms. Glenarvan pressed her to his breast, and said:
“Courage, my dear Helena; Heaven will not forsake us!”
Robert was scarcely within the hut before he climbed on Wilson’s shoulders, and succeeded in thrusting his head through an opening between the roof and the wall, where strings of pipes were hanging. From this point his view commanded the whole extent of the pah, as far as Kai-Koumou’s hut.
“They have gathered around the chief,” said he, in a low voice. “They are waving their arms, and howling. Kai-Koumou is going to speak.”
The boy was silent for a few moments, then continued:
“Kai-Koumou is speaking. The savages grow calm; they listen.”
“This chief,” said the major, “has evidently a personal interest in protecting us. He wishes to exchange his prisoners for some chiefs of his tribe. But will his warriors consent?”
“Yes, they are listening to him,” continued Robert. “They are dispersing; some return to their huts—others leave the fortification.”
“Is it really so?” cried the major.
“Yes, Mr. MacNabb,” replied Robert. “Kai-Koumou remains alone with the warriors that were in the canoe. Ha! one of them is coming towards us!”
“Get down, Robert,” said Glenarvan.
At this moment Lady Helena, who had risen, seized her husband’s arm.
“Edward,” said she, in a firm voice, “neither Mary Grant nor I shall fall alive into the hands of those savages!”
And, so saying, she presented to her husband a loaded revolver.
“A weapon!” exclaimed Glenarvan, whose eyes suddenly brightened.
“Yes. The Maoris do not search their female prisoners; but this weapon is for us, Edward, not for them.”
“Glenarvan,” said MacNabb quickly, “hide the revolver. It is not time yet.”
The weapon was immediately concealed in his clothes. The mat that closed the entrance of the hut was raised. A native appeared. He made a sign to the captives to follow him.
