A Canoe In the Mist by Elsie Locke Read Free Book Online

dug-outs piled up with firewood or flax. There’s times our morning mist enlarges things.’
    ‘No, it was carved,’ said Dr Ralph. ‘I’ve been studying these things, you know. Three of the men stood up like kaihautú to direct the paddling.’
    ‘You must have been very near to see so much,’ said Mr McRae in amused disbelief.
    ‘Near enough to see the feathers in their hair. My daughter saw them first,’ said Mr Hensley.
    ‘Feathers in their hair!’ Mr McRae laughed outright. ‘Gentlemen, I’ve no wish to doubt your word, but there’s no such canoe on the lake, and I never saw a crew wearing feathers in all my seventeen years in these parts.’
    ‘Perhaps it was a dress rehearsal for a regatta, or something of that sort,’ ventured Mr Fazackerley.
    ‘If there was I’d be sure to know. And where would they get a carved canoe?’
    ‘Couldn’t they make one?’ said Mr Hensley.
    ‘Without the whole countryside knowing? Never. It took three years to make the carvings for that meeting house, Hinemihi. A carved canoe is a difficult undertaking. It needs a special tree and special ceremonies. No, no, what you’ve seen is a dug-out magnified by the morning light. Yon’s a strange lake when the mist is on it.’
    ‘But we all saw it,’ insisted Dr Ralph. ‘I asked Guide Sophia if it was a waka taua, and she said no, it was a waka wairua.’
    ‘A waka wairua!’ Joe McRae’s whisky glass went down on the table with a bump, and he sat rigid, staring at the doctor.
    ‘Why, what’s up? What is a waka wairua?’ asked Mr Hensley.
    ‘Smile if you will, Mr Hensley, when I tell you. It’s a ghost canoe. There’s tales of it crossing the lake long ago, but never in my time here. Was it making for Tarawera mountain?’
    ‘Yes, it was,’ said Dr Ralph.
    ‘Yon mountain is a burial place for chieftains. They say the ghost canoe is an omen of disaster. I don’t pay too much heed to these Maori tales, but then I’ve never before heard tell of a Pakeha seeing a Maori ghost.’
    ‘If it was a ghost,’ said Mr Hensley. ‘It looked perfectly real to me. Anyway, we’ve had the disaster already. There’s my wife lying upstairs with three ribs broken.’
    ‘I doubt that will count. They’ll be expecting a Maori disaster.’
    ‘D’you really believe that, Mr McRae?’ said Dr Ralph.
    ‘I’m only saying what they’ll expect. Any talk of disaster is bad for the tourist trade. It can frighten people away if they’re thinking of earthquakes and the like.’
    ‘I know what I think,’ said Mr Fazackerley. ‘It’s a put-up job by some tohunga who wants to frighten the insides out of another tribe. Isn’t it true that the two tribes hereabouts are quarrelling over land for a new school?’
    ‘Sub-tribes,’ said Mr McRae. ‘Tuhourangi and Ngati-Rangitihi. They all trace back to the Te Arawa canoe. Well, they have their differences, but these land problems are the business of the tribal elders, not the tohunga. Besides, the only tohunga of importance round here is Tuhoto, andhe’ll not take sides about the school. He sets no store on Pakeha education.’
    ‘Perhaps there’s a tohunga you don’t know about,’ persisted Mr Fazackerley.
    ‘Supposing there is, I’d take my hat off to him if he could raise a carved canoe on Lake Tarawera in these times.’
    ‘You’re trying to make a fool out of me,’ said Mr Fazackerley angrily. ‘I think I’ll join my wife and daughter.’ And he marched out.
    ‘He thinks he knows more than he does,’ said Joe McRae with a smile. ‘When you’ve lived among Maoris as long as I have, you begin to see things their way.’
    ‘Frankly, I’m puzzled,’ said Dr Ralph. ‘The Maoris were so alarmed by that wave, they didn’t want to go on. And then this canoe. They sounded quite stirred up, but Guide Sophia didn’t tell us anything really.’
    ‘Aye, that I can understand. They’ll not discuss Maori things with strangers who canna’ understand. Besides, Guide