CHAPTER IX.
NGARAKI THE FIERCE.
When Ngaraki had thrown his torch down into the bottomless pit, there seemed nothing left but the darkness and the silence. Presently I heard what I judged to be his footsteps hurrying towards me, and, in my haste to get out of the way, lest by chance he should touch me, I trod on a loose stone and fell. I was on my feet again in an instant, and was edging away from the spot, when the chief’s voice, three paces away, cried, “Ngha! who comes?”
Feeling secure in the impenetrable darkness, I made no reply, but proceeded to creep silently away towards the foot of the staircase, listening intently all the while for the tohunga’s movements. But he was evidently standing stock still. Presently he repeated his challenge more fiercely, and, receiving no answer, hurried away towards the end of the gulf.
I felt somewhat relieved at this, as I felt sure I could find the foot of the staircase, and so get up the pathway; and, if the worst came to the worst, try the plunge through the aperture in the mountain wall. But I found it was no easy matter to find my bearings. I could see the patch of moonlight some distance up the ground floor of the abyss, and, facing it, knew that the giant statues were behind me. I proceeded to feel my way from statue to statue in what I fancied was the right direction, but I had not gone far in this way when faint sounds of footsteps around me arrested my attention. I stood still, and all was silent. A minute passed, and, when I moved on, the fall of these phantom footsteps on every side again brought me to a sudden halt. Was this some dreadful nightmare, or was I surrounded and hemmed in by the minions of Ngaraki? The nervous tension of this would soon have driven me into raving lunacy. I felt I could not stand it much longer, and tried to steal away quietly on tiptoe, but the footsteps followed me and I stopped again.
To put an end to this nightmare I thought the best thing I could do was to kill someone and make a rush. I took my revolver from my pocket, but merely went through the motion of shooting men down on every hand just to relieve my nervous tension. After reflection I did not dare waste a shot in the darkness, for I might want the whole six later on, and I had left my ammunition outside the mountain; so I tried to take things quietly. While in the midst of this, something, not three paces away, collided with something else. “Kuk, kuk!” said a throat, and another throat answered with a guttural, purring noise, followed by a long-drawn sigh. After that there was a silence, in which I was sorely tempted to shoot in the direction of those sounds. Presently, however, under a further development of the situation, I thought it was my wisest course to spend at least one of my six bullets. Standing under cover of the darkness, but haunted by these ghostly footsteps, I saw, twenty yards on my right, a dim glow. As soon as this caught my eye I knew what was going to happen. Somebody was blowing a piece of smouldering dry punk into a blaze; a torch, or several torches, would be lighted, and I would be hunted out like a rat. I was determined that this should not be if I could possibly help it. I much preferred the dark and the ghostly footsteps. Now the punk was glowing red, and, just above it, the wizened face of someone blowing it appeared distinctly. I could not bring myself to the idea of potting at this man out of the dark; it seemed a little unfair; so, moving about again, I listened for the footsteps and fired into the thick of them.
The effect was magical. The report rang up through the abyss and reverberated with a thousand echoes in the high galleries above. But this was not the only effect. Immediately following the shot there arose a guttural, inarticulate howl, and a strange clucking noise began all around. It suddenly dawned on me that these sounds came from men who had lost their tongues: these were no doubt the speechless men Te Makawawa had spoken of. But I did not stop to find out any more about them. Taking advantage of the general confusion, I felt my way to the last stone figure in the semicircle, and, with a guess at the position of the foot of the staircase, struck out to find it.
I could now hear no footsteps about me, and thought that if I could only get up out of the abyss I should feel happier. After proceeding some twelve or fifteen paces, I touched a rock and felt my way along it until I came to a corner. A sigh of relief escaped me at the discovery that it was the lowest step of the giants’ staircase. I was just about to mount it when a peculiar guttural “Kuk, kuk!” came like a challenge out of the darkness five feet away on the left. My first impulse was to spring towards the sound and get at the throat from which it proceeded. But suddenly I remembered having heard this sound answered by a kind of guttural purring. It was evidently the tongueless challenge equivalent to “Who goes there?” Why should I not give the answer? On the spur of the moment I did so, making the most guttural purr I could find in my throat, and following it up with a long-drawn sigh. It was met with silence. My challenger evidently took me for a friend who, actuated by a cleverness equal to his own, had conceived the idea of guarding the only way out of the abyss.
It was with a conceited feeling that I was infinitely cleverer than all of them that I mounted the step and listened before groping my way upwards. There was still confusion in the abyss. To judge by the excited noises I heard, someone had evidently been touched by my revolver shot. There was no sign of the glowing punk, and I gathered from this that in the presence of firearms they felt safer in the darkness. That they stood in fear of another shot was also evident from the fact that gradually the strange sounds ceased, and all was quiet.
Presently I heard footsteps hurrying towards me. They were those of other clever mutes who wished to prevent my escaping that way. I was the first to give the peculiar challenge, which was answered by a purring and a ghostly chorus of sighs from several throats. Then, feeling that I had hoodwinked them, I ventured to creep away as silently as possible, raising myself from step to step. Several times I stopped to listen, but all was quiet behind me and I went on and on, up towards the giants’ window.
It must have been nearly an hour before I gained the approaches to the huge grating. When I reached it I stood for a moment looking up at the moon, then, turning, I followed the bright ray through the darkness until it fell upon the floor of the abyss, a patch of light considerably less in area than an hour ago. It had travelled nearly the whole length of the gulf.
While I was looking at it before passing on I heard a chorus of guttural sounds far down. I started and moved away, as it dawned upon me that my tell-tale shadow had been seen on that patch of light below. My cleverness now oozed out at the back of my head and ran down into my heels. In a very short space of time I knew I should have those phantom footsteps about me again.
My first idea was to stand in the dark and shoot them down as they came past the window in the moonlight, but on second thoughts I saw that I could only dispose of five in this way at the very most, and there were certainly more than a dozen of them, besides Ngaraki himself. Everything considered, I thought it the best plan to make for the lake and try the opening.
Another ten minutes, then, found me nearing the buttress. My eyes were continually on the moonlit window, for my pursuers must pass there, and I was anxious to count them as they passed. But it was not until I reached the rocks of the buttress that I saw the first rush quickly across the light. Another followed and another, until I counted ten. It was an uncomfortable number, especially as they knew every inch of the place and I did not. So well, indeed, did they know their way that I had scarcely reached the ledge beneath the spar when I heard them coming round the corner of the buttress. I had my hand on the wooden sprit above my head when they were almost upon me. That they would search every nook and corner I knew well, and if I could not reach the other side of the lake first I should have to fire my remaining shots, and, plunging in, run the risk of being swept down by the overflow into the abyss. Why should I not cross by the spar? They would never think of that.
No sooner had I conceived this plan, which was as good as any other, than I bore my weight on the sprit, and found that, although there was a trembling motion, the balance of the spar was maintained. In another second I had raised myself by the “one-legged-doctor” trick everybody learns at school, and was lying along it.
Scarcely had I accomplished this when I heard the sound of footsteps below, and someone touched the end of the sprit, for I felt it tremble beneath me. At this I grasped the points of the granite to which it was lashed, and drawing myself along, sat up astride of the thing. I was now well over the brink of the abyss, and began to feel clever again as the pattering of footsteps went by behind me. By their movements to and fro I could hear that they were searching for me, and I did not dare move further lest I should attract attention. To make up for the absence of their tongues their ears were preternaturally acute, and the slightest movement might have betrayed me. Even when the sound of footsteps ceased I remained motionless for a long time, fearing that there was someone listening near by in the darkness. If the cascade had still been pouring down from above I should have stood a better chance under cover of the sound. Everybody knows the peculiar effect that listening in the darkness has upon one. The muscles become rigid, the throat grows dry, an irresistible desire to swallow produces in the act a peculiar noise, and a strange kind of hypnotism suggests to the limbs that they cannot move. To this add a cold perspiration, born of the idea that there is a vast yawning pit beneath one, and a score of ears listening for the slightest sound near by, and you have my sensations within a little.
How long I sat there astride of that sprit I do not know, but at length my feelings became unbearable. I determined to move, but it cost me all it costs one in a nightmare to make a start. With a harsh, inward laugh, that sounded almost hysterical in my mental ears, I at last succeeded in throwing off this strange self-hypnotism, and, stretching my hands forward, grasped a point of rock on the spar itself. Once having pulled myself on to the granite I felt more confidence, and, though the long lever quivered beneath me, I sat astride and worked my way along. I tried to shut out the terrible abyss beneath me, but the knowledge that it was there in the darkness was perhaps worse than if it had been visible to physical eyes. It was like dangling between life and death. But, as the Maori mystic saying runs,
“_Cling to Life in the light--cling to Life in the darkness!_” And I clung.
After what seemed several hours, although most probably it was something like fifteen minutes as clocks go, I reached the constricted part of the spar, and felt that it was not much thicker than a man’s body. As I rested on it for awhile I felt the drip of water from the roof of the cavern, falling now on my bush hat and now on my shoulders. I wondered how many thousand years it had taken that dripping water to wear the granite down to its present shape, and how many more would elapse before the spar gave way at this point, and the two fragments, with the great round stone, go hurtling down through space on to the heads of the Vile Tohungas far below. I feared that I would get there first.
A glance along the gulf towards the giants’ window showed me that it must be now midnight, if not more, for the moon was no longer shining in between the bars, and I could see her light reflected from the face of the wall beyond the fissure without. I found fresh courage in the thought that if I could reach the further lip of the basin and take the plunge, the rays of the moon shining down into the pool on the western side of the mountain would serve to guide me towards the opening.
But my fresh courage soon gave out, for no sooner had I climbed from the narrow part on to a broader surface of the spar, than the horror of my situation reacted upon me. Faint with what I had gone through since my last meal in the early morning, I felt the darkness beginning to move around me. Concentric rings of light were converging to a point in my brain. I had just sufficient sense to spread myself face downwards on the rock before I swooned away.
* * * * *
When I awoke to consciousness the faint light of daybreak was struggling in through the giants’ window. The vast cavern was full of greater and lesser darknesses, and, as I peered into these, I recalled the events of the past night. A sickening horror swept through me as I realised that I had been lying on a narrow bridge above the abyss for hours, and it was followed by a feeling of thankfulness that I had not turned in my deep sleep and rolled down into the depths. I felt as if angels had stood one on each side of me, and sat up, full of the conviction that I should see the outer world again.
It was strange that I had not been discovered. Evidently my pursuers had not thought of my hiding place. But in order to get out safely it would be necessary to make all haste, for no doubt they were still keeping watch, and the grey, misty light of the far-off day was growing every minute. Very soon I should make an easy target for stones, and if Ngaraki could hit the Vile Tohunga’s eyebrow at twenty yards with his jade _meré_, what could he not do with me? To his way of looking at things there was no telling what secrets I might carry away with me if I escaped, therefore the sooner I was wiped off the face of the rock the better for that ancient temple and all it contained.
As yet it was impossible to see more than a vague suggestion of one’s hand before one’s face, but in ten minutes’ time there would be enough light to shoot by. Crawling along the spar towards the basin, I made all possible haste. I had not gone far before I heard footsteps several paces in front of me. I stopped, and all was silent. I could hear my heart beating, and the ghostly whiffle of the descending torrent immediately beneath, but no other sound.
It was no time for delay. A plan suggested itself to my mind in a flash, and I acted on it without a second thought. Drawing a match from my pocket with my left hand and raising my revolver with my right, I struck the match on the granite and threw it fizzing into the darkness before me. The light lasted only a second, but in that brief space I saw two figures crouching on the spar ahead, fired point blank at the foremost, and saw him roll over into the abyss. The next instant something whizzed through the air two inches from my forehead, turning my hat half round upon my head. I knew that Ngaraki had also taken advantage of the momentary light to hurl his _meré_. The involuntary start backwards at this sudden surprise saved my head again, for, immediately after the missile, came the crashing sound of a heavy club on the rock a foot before me. This was the work of the other figure I had seen. Dropping my revolver, I leaned forward and seized the head of the club with both hands. A struggle ensued, and each tried to use the club as a means of pushing the other off the spar. The struggle did not last long. Giving the club a quick twist from my end, I at the same time pushed it violently against my antagonist, who made a sound in his throat and fell backwards, still holding his end of the club. But in doing this I swung and fell sideways. The next moment we were dangling one on each side of the spar, with nothing to hold by but the club lying like a cross-bar over the narrow rock. All this took place in the space of a few seconds, and it was while I was swaying in the air that I heard from far below the rattle of Ngaraki’s _meré_ on the floor of the abyss.
Thank Heaven, the mute held on. If he had let go I should have gone down with him. Never was a man so anxious that his foe should keep his head.
In moments of danger different people act in widely different ways, but, in moments of extreme peril, when even fear itself seems paralysed, most men, I think, would do the right thing automatically. From what happened I am convinced that the man on the other side of the rock was doing exactly as I was doing, looking for some point of rock by which to cling. At all events I felt, by my end of the club, which I was now holding in one hand, that he was not hanging quietly. Never were two living beings weighed on a more extraordinary balance to determine which should be found wanting. One more second determined it. Failing to find a purchase with one hand, I had grasped the club with both again and drawn myself up with my chin over the end of it. Then, to find a good hold on the edge of the spar, I transferred my right hand while sustaining my weight with my chin and left arm. Quickly I slid my other hand along the club till it found the rock. It was done. The club went up as soon as I released it; there was a guttural exclamation on the other side, and the sound of clawing fingers on the granite as the man went down into the pit, leaving me hanging over the side of the spar.
I drew a long breath and proceeded to raise myself. With chin and one hand supporting my weight again, I reached forward and swept the surface of the spar with the other. The first thing I felt was my revolver, but it was little use to me just then. There was a rough point near it which would help me, but no sooner had I grasped it than I had to withdraw my hand, for I could just distinguish a shadowy form coming towards me from the basin end. I could hear him feeling his way along, and knew that he was looking for me. I would let him pass and then climb and shoot everything I met on the rest of my journey towards the basin. With this end in view, I found the revolver again, and placing it with difficulty in my coat pocket, got my hand back on the rock and remained hanging till the one who was looking for me had passed by.
To find the rough point of rock again was easy, but to draw myself up with nothing to place my knees or feet against was more difficult. At length I managed to get one foot up on the spar, and then gradually dragged my weight on to the upper surface. The light had grown considerably stronger in the last few minutes. I could now see the grey surface of the rock before me. By the time I had crawled twenty feet along the widening surface I could discern the vague outline of the great round stone above the outer lip of the basin, and could hear the gritting sound it made as it rolled and rocked slightly in its socket with the motion of the spar, set up principally by the man who was looking for me at the other end. I needed only a little more light in order to stand upright and make a rush.
A full minute I waited, straining my eyes before me to see if there was anyone barring the way. The spar was now quivering violently, and I knew the one who had passed me was near the further end. Another minute passed and the motion grew fainter; he was on his way back. Presently I heard him crawling along on his hands and knees not ten yards behind me.
Trusting now to the light, I rose and proceeded carefully towards the round stone. When I reached it I found no one there, but on the lip of the basin there were several shadows moving. The foremost, evidently thinking I was the man who had gone along the spar and was now returning behind me, gave the guttural challenge. There was no time to waste in purring, so I gave the countersign with my revolver. He staggered back and disappeared.
Then all was confused. Vague shadows flitted round the rim of the basin. I pushed one off into the abyss, another I shot as he came at me, and he fell into the water. A well-aimed stone carried my hat from my head back into the abyss, cutting the skin of my scalp to the bone as it passed. I heard feet pattering behind me and ran on round the lip of the basin. Now I was facing the place where I knew the opening in the mountain side lay concealed beneath twenty feet of water. I had two shots left; the one I fired at something I saw moving on my left, the other I reserved for the one who was running quickly round the lip of the basin behind me. Turning, I fired at a distance of five yards. He did not fall, but uttered a fierce “Ngha!” and came on.
With a quick plunge I leapt from the rock and struck out downwards into the dark with all my strength. Presently I felt the current rushing through my fingers. Another vigorous stroke would have sent me into it, but as I drew up my legs something touched my foot. I kicked back and encountered what felt like solid flesh. I was now head and shoulders in the current, and could see a round light before me, but an arm slid along my leg, a hand closed round my ankle, and I was dragged forcibly out of it again.
I turned in the water to face my antagonist, whom I now knew to be Ngaraki himself, and, guiding my hands along his chest and shoulders, caught him by a bronze pillar for all the impression I could make on the throat. But I might as well have tried to throttle it. The next thing I knew was that his hand had closed over my own throat with a grip like iron. He shook me in the water as if I were a mere rat, and we rose to the surface.
He still retained his terrible grip as he groped along the bank for the steps in the wall. By the time he had found them my senses were beginning to go. I could get no breath until he released my throat, and it was now nearly half a minute since I drew my last. I was getting confused, but I remember one thing which made a distinct impression upon me. My hands, in attempting to get at his own throat again encountered a small stream of something warm trickling from his chest, and, strange as it may seem, almost my last feeling was one of remorse that my final bullet had wounded this strange man, for whom, notwithstanding all his attempts to kill me, I had conceived a kind of savage admiration. In my dying condition, lying helpless in his grip, I seemed to lose my own selfish personality; and, in that brief moment, looking at things from his standpoint, I admitted I was in the wrong, and found time to wish at least that I had not fired that last bullet.
We were now on the margin of the lake swaying about. Suddenly a low moan escaped his lips. His fingers relaxed. He fell back against the cavern wall. Before he fell, however, he gave me a violent push which sent me reeling into the lake.
In the second that elapsed before I reached the water I may have taken in some air. I do not remember doing so, for I was almost gone; but I think I must have got some oxygen into my lungs, for, to a certain extent, consciousness revived as I felt myself going down in the tumultuous depths. Aided considerably by the water welling up from the bottom I arrested my descent and darted upwards again, but on reaching the surface and gasping for air, I found myself in a current. Oh! horror of horrors! I felt I must be going down into the abyss. My mother’s sweet, sad face rose in the darkness before me, and I called on God as all men do in their last extremity. For some time--I could not say how long--I struggled against that current with the strength of despair, but, wildly as I strained every nerve and sinew, I felt I was being gradually sucked in. I reached out to catch some point of rock, but there was nothing. Then with a feeling of blackest horror I realised all was over. But the horror gave way, and, as I swept down, I felt myself smiling up at my mother’s face like a child dropping off to sleep. There was a stunning crash as my head struck against some rock in the descent, and then I fell down, down for ever and ever into the black abyss of unconsciousness.