University of Virginia Library


228

VI.

Thus grappled, to the beach below,
Till out of hearing of the foe,
Ranolf his cowering captive led;
Then on a sudden, turning round,
Tripped up and threw him on the ground;
While the poor Sorcerer, sore dismayed,
Believing his last moment come,
For life, for mercy, whimpering prayed.
Nought answered Ranolf; stern and dumb,
His knee upon his chest he placed;
Unwound the cord about his waist;
And quick the Sorcerer's mantle rolled,
Leaving enough for breathing loose,
About his head and frightened face:
Then, from his sea-experience old,
Expert at every tie and noose,
In briefest space contrived to lace
And truss his victim up from nape
Of neck to sole of foot compact;
Till chance was none of his escape.
“There, friend! for that kind trick you played
Me once, I think you're well repaid.”—
Then to the hut again he tracked
His hasty steps; against the door
A sketch-book-leaf prepared before
He stuck, with this inscription fit,
In letters large in Maori writ:
“Kua kawakína—e—te Tóhunga;
Kia túpato apópo, mo te há—te há!”
“Your sorcerer from your side is torn;
Beware, beware to-morrow morn!”

229

Beneath was sketched for signature
The dreaded pistol—token sure
To all the foe, if none could read,
Whence came the message—whose the deed.
Then back to where his helpless prey
With muffled moanings writhing lay,
Just like a chrysalis that works
Its head and tail with useless jerks
Cramped by the sheath wherein it lurks—
He sped; hailed softly through the dark
The lads expectant with their bark;
And helped by these, who little knew
Their gruesome captive, packed him safe,
Nor daring now to moan or chafe,
Beneath the thwarts of the canoe;
And to the isle, all danger past,
In triumph soon was paddling fast.

VII.

But when with quickened stroke they strove,
And up the beach the vessel drove
With many a cheer—they just could hear
On high the sentries' livelier lay
Begin to greet the breaking day: