A Canoe In the Mist Read Online Free Page A

her pointing finger. Towards the north a shaft of sunlight broke through the mist to make a circle of light. Within the circle, moving eastward like themselves, came the canoe. Flashes of water fell from its paddles.
    ‘Why, it’s a carved canoe from the ancient time!’exclaimed Dr Ralph. ‘It’s got a prow like the one in the Auckland Museum.’
    ‘With such good eyesight, can you see how they’re dressed?’ asked Mrs Fazackerley. She wore glasses herself and sounded peeved.
    ‘No, they’re too far off,’ said Dr Ralph.
    ‘Their arms are bare,’ said Mattie. ‘Like the pictures in that book about Captain Cook, aren’t they, Papa?’
    ‘You’ve got sharper eyes than me, Mattie love,’ said her father.
    ‘Is that right, Eleanor?’ said Mrs Fazackerley.
    ‘Yes, they do look like that,’ said Eleanor.
    ‘Perhaps they’re practising for something,’ said Lillian. But why, and what for? she wondered. From the sound of their talk the boatmen were as puzzled as she was. It was all men’s talk, very fast, and not one word from Sophia. She was gazing into the distance as if to another world, towards the tapu mountain where the chiefs were buried.
    ‘They’d be winners in a race,’ said Mr Hensley with enthusiasm. ‘They’re gaining on us, and see those paddles! Perfect timing.’
    ‘Three of them have stood up,’ said Mattie, ‘and they’re wearing robes, and feathers in their hair. Are they chiefs?’
    ‘I’d say they’re kaihautú,’ said Dr Ralph. ‘The ones who chant a rhythm for the paddlers. How should we hail them, Guide Sophia?’
    ‘They would not answer,’ was all she said.
    Dr Ralph was not to be put off. At the top of his lungs he bawled the come-hither words, ‘Haere mai! Haere mai!’ and Mr Fazackerley, who spoke so little, emitted some loud whistles. If the crew of the great canoe could hear them, they gave no sign. A second time the doctor called and still there was no response. Before he could try once more the mist came in, and the canoe was gone.
    ‘Confound it! I should have used my camera,’ said Dr Ralph. ‘Tell me, Guide Sophia, was that a waka taua? A war canoe?’
    ‘No,’ she said quietly. ‘It was a waka wairua.’
    ‘What would be the difference, then?’
    ‘You would not see one in a museum,’ she said with a cryptic smile.
    ‘So busy with that canoe, you’re missing a village,’ said Mrs Fazackerley. ‘See there, on the point!’
    The whole party turned to look at the gently sloping shore where a cluster of whares showed up among fruit trees bare of leaves, in contrast to the rich greenery of the bush in the valley beyond.
    ‘Isn’t that pretty!’ exclaimed Mrs Hensley.
    ‘I can see fields,’ said Dr Ralph, ‘and nets hung up to dry.’
    ‘That is Moura,’ said Sophia. ‘It’s a busy place. They make their living from the land and the lake, not from the tourists. In summer when the days are long we callthere for cherries and peaches. They have a Pakeha baker to make their bread, Sam Browne.’
    ‘Why would he live there?’ asked Mrs Fazackerley. From the way she said it, she seemed to think he was lowering himself.
    Sophia ignored the slight. ‘He lives there because his wife is of the kainga, and their five children. They’ll be sorry we must pass them by. We’ll only have time to pause at the rock Huruwhenua, and leave a small gift for the taipo who lives there. Otherwise he might set up a contrary wind for our return, or even capsize our boat.’
    ‘Is a taipo the same as a taniwha?’ asked Dr Ralph.
    ‘No. A taipo is a devil. A taniwha can be good, a guardian of the people. We have our guardian taniwha, but not in this lake.’
    ‘Have you ever seen that taniwha?’ Mattie whispered to Lillian.
    ‘No one ever does,’ Lillian whispered back. ‘I don’t know if they’re real or not.’
    As for the taipo, Mrs Fazackerley was telling everyone she didn’t believe in such rubbish. But the rock couldn’t be missed; it was a