The Adventures of Don Lavington Part 58

"Give you up? Not I. I've nothing to do with it; you must talk to him."

"My pakeha!" cried the big chief excitedly.

"That isn't his name, is it?" said Jem.

"No. Nonsense! Pakeha means white man. I was a pakeha once."

"Let me help him up," said Jem eagerly.

"My pakeha! My pakeha!" said the chief, as if putting in a personal claim, and ready to resist Jem's interference.

The difficulty was ended by Don giving himself a shake, and slowly rising.

"Jem! Where's Jem?"

"Here! All right, Mas' Don. We're in the canoe."

"Hah!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Don; and he shuddered as if chilled. "Where are the boats?"

"Miles away," said the tattooed Englishman. "But look here, I'm only on board. This is Ngati's doing. I know nothing about you two."

"My pakeha! My pakeha!" cried the chief.

"Lookye here," cried Jem, speaking in the irritable fashion of those just rescued from drowning; "if that there chief keeps on saying, '_My pakeha_' at me in that there aggravating way, I shall hit him in the mouth."

"Ah! You're rusty," said the tattooed Englishman. "Man always is when he's been under water."

"I dunno what you mean by being rusty," said Jem snappishly. "What I say is, leave a man alone."

"All right!" said the Englishman. "I'll let you alone. How's your young mate?"

"My head aches dreadfully," said Don; "and there's a horrible pain at the back of my neck."

"Oh, that'll soon go off, my lad. And now what are you going to do?"

"Do?" interrupted Jem. "Why, you don't mean to give us up, do you?"

"I don't mean to do anything or know anything," said the man. "Your skipper'll come to me to-morrow if he don't think you're drowned, or--I say, did you feel anything of 'em?"

"Feel anything--of what?" said Don.

"Sharks, my lad. The shallow waters here swarm with them."

"Sharks!" cried Don and Jem in a breath.

"Yes. Didn't you know?"

"I'd forgotten all about the sharks, Jem," said Don.

"So had I, my lad, or I dursen't have swum for it as we did. Of course I thought about 'em at first starting, but I forgot all about 'em afterwards."

"Jem," said Don, shuddering; "what an escape!"

"Well, don't get making a fuss about it now it's all over, Mas' Don.

Here we are safe, but I must say you're the wussest swimmer I ever met.--Here, what are they going to do?"

"Run ash.o.r.e," said the Englishman, as there was a buzz of excitement among the New Zealanders, many of whom stepped over into the shallow water, and seized the sides of the boat, which was rapidly run up the dark sh.o.r.e, where, amidst a low gobbling noise, the two wet pa.s.sengers were landed to stand shivering with cold.

"There you are," said the Englishman, "safe and sound."

"Well, who said we weren't?" grumbled Jem.

"Not you, squire," continued the Englishman. "There; I don't know anything about you, and you'd better lie close till the ship's gone, for they may come after you."

"Where shall we hide?" said Don eagerly.

"Oh, you leave it to Ngati; he'll find you a place where you can lie snug."

"Ngati," said the owner of the name quickly, for he had been listening intently, and trying to grasp what was said. "Ngati! My pakeha."

"Oh, I say: do leave off," cried Jem testily. "Pakeha again. Say, Mas'

Don, him and I's going to have a row before we've done."

The chief said something quickly to the Englishman, who nodded and then turned to the fugitives.

"Ngati says he will take you where you can dry yourselves, and put on warm things."

"He won't be up to any games, will he?" said Jem.

"No, no; you may trust him. You can't do better than go with him till the search is over."

The Englishman turned to a tall young savage, and said some words to him, with the result that the young man placed himself behind Don, and began to carefully obliterate the footprints left by the fugitives upon the sand.

Don noticed this and wondered, for in the darkness the footprints were hardly perceptible; but he appreciated the act, though he felt no one but a native would distinguish between the footprints of the two people.

"My pakeha," said Ngati just then, making Jem wince and utter an angry gesticulation. "Gunpowder, gun, pow-gun, gun-pow."

"Eh?" said Jem harshly.

"My pakeha, powder-gun. Pow-gun, gun-pow. No?"

"He says his pakeha was to have brought plenty of guns and powder, and he has not brought any."

"No," said Don, shivering as he spoke. "The guns are the king's. I could not bring any."

The New Zealand chief seemed to comprehend a good deal of his meaning, and nodded his head several times. Then making a sign to a couple of followers, each took one of Don's arms, and they hurried him off at a sharp run, Jem being seized in the same way and borne forward, followed by the rest of the men who were in the boat.

"Here, I say. Look here," Jem kept protesting, "I arn't a cask o' sugar or a bar'l o' 'bacco. Let a man walk, can't yer? Hi! Mas' Don, they're carrying on strange games here. How are you getting on?"