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"Just you go and be sat upon all that time, and see if you won't feel hurt," grumbled Jem. "Why, it hurts your feelings as much as it does your body."
"Ah, well, never mind. You're quite safe now."
Tomati walked away to speak to one of his men.
"Quite safe now, he says, Mas' Don. Well, I don't feel it. Hear what he said to the fust lufftenant; this was the worst part of the coast, and the people were ready to rob and murder and eat you?"
"I didn't hear all that, Jem," said Don quietly. "I heard him say that they were a warlike, fighting people; but that doesn't matter if they are kind to us."
"But that's what I'm feared on," said Jem, giving himself a jerk.
"Afraid of them being kind?"
"Ay, feared of them liking us too well. Pot."
"Pot?"
"Yes, Pot. Don't you understand?"
"No."
"Pot. P--O--T, Pot."
"Well, of course, I know that; but what does it mean?"
"Why, they've sat upon you, Mas' Don, till your head won't work; that's what's the matter with you, my lad. I mean treat us as if we was chyce fat sheep."
"Nonsense, Jem!"
"Oh, is it? Well, you'll see."
"I hope not," said Don, laughing.
"Ah, you may laugh, my lad, but you won't grin that day when it comes to the worst."
News was brought in soon after of the boats being busy taking soundings, and that night Don and Jem sat screened by the ferns high up on the mountain side, and saw the sloop of war with her sails set, and looking golden in the setting sun, gliding slowly away toward the north-east, careening slightly over before a brisk breeze, which grew stronger as they reached out farther beyond the shelter of the land; and in spite of hints from Tomati, and calls from Ngati, neither could be coaxed down till, just as it was growing dusk, Don rose and turned to his companion.
"Have we done right, Jem?"
"What, in getting away from being slaves aboard ship? Why, o' course."
Don shook his head.
"I don't know," he said, sadly. "We are here right away on the other side of the world amongst savages, and I see no chance of getting away back home."
"Oh, but we arn't tried yet, my lad."
"No, we haven't tried, Jem."
"My pakeha! My pakeha!" came from below.
"There he goes again!" growled Jem. "Do tell Tomati to ask him to call you something else. I know I shall get in a row if you don't."
"You must not get into any quarrel, Jem," said Don, thoughtfully; "for we ought to keep the best of friends with these people. Ahoy!"
An answering cry came back, and they began to descend with the darkness coming on and a strange depression of spirit troubling Don, as he felt more and more as if for the first time in their lives he and Jem Wimble were thoroughly alone in the world.
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX.
SOMETHING TO DO.
"'Tarn't so bad, Mas' Don," said Jem, about a month later. "Never felt so clean before in my life. Them hot baths is lovely, and if we could get some tea and coffee, and a bit o' new bread and fresh b.u.t.ter now and then, and I could get my Sally out here, I don't know as I should much mind stopping."
"And what about the pot, Jem?"
"Tchah! That was all gammon. I don't b'lieve they ever did anything o'
the sort. When's Tomati coming back? Tomati, Jemmaree, Donni-Donni.
Pretty sort of a language. Why, any one could talk New Zealandee."
"I wish I could, Jem."
"Well, so you could if you tried. All you've got to do is to riddle-me-ree the words a bit. I'm getting on first rate; and what I like in these people is that they never laughs at you when you makes a mistake."
They had been furnished with a snug hut, close to one of the roughly-made hot water baths, and were fairly well supplied with food, which they augmented by going out in Ngati's canoe, and catching abundance of fish, to the Maori's great delight; for he gazed with admiration at the skilful methods adopted by Jem, who was no mean angler.
"And the best of the fun is, Mas' Don, that the fishes out here are so stupid. They take any bait a'most, and taken altogether they're not such bad eating. Wonder what shark would be like?"
Don shuddered, and they both decided that they would not care to try.
Ngati of the fiercely savage face and huge size proved to be one of the most amiable of men, and was after them every morning, to go out in the forest collecting fruit, or to dam up some stream to catch the fresh-water fish, or to snare birds.
"He do cap me," Jem would say. "Just look at him, Mas' Don. That there chap's six foot four at least, half as broad again across the chest as I am, and he's got arms like a helephant, while to look at him with his blue face you'd say he was 'bout the fiercest-looking fighting man you ever see; and yet, when you come to know him inside, he's just like a big boy, and so good-tempered I could do anything with him."
"And only the other day you looked upon him as quite an enemy."
"Ay, I did, Mas' Don, but I don't now. Them there artful birds is my mortal enemies. They parrots and c.o.c.katoos is cunning and wicked enough, but them little birds is imps, that's what they are."
Jem shook his head and frowned, and no more was said then, for they were packing up a basket, and going up into the mountains to get fruit, taking provisions enough to last them for the day.
Their hut was right in the middle of the little village, and the Maoris treated them in the most friendly manner, smiling at them in an indolent fashion as they lolled about the place, doing very little except a little gardening; for their wants were few, and nature was kind in the abundance she gave for a little toil. This life soon had its effects upon Jem, who began to display a disposition to idle too.
"Seems so nat'ral, Mas' Don," he would say. "I don't see why a man should be always letting sugar-hogsheads down out of waggons, and rolling 'em about and getting them into warehouses. Why can't we take it coolly, same as they do?"
"Because we don't want to stand still, Jem," said Don quietly. "You and I are not savages."
"Well, no, Mas' Don, that's true; but it's very pleasant to take it as coolly as they do. Why, these chaps, the whole lot of 'em, live just as if it was always holidays, and a hot water bath thrown in."