Читать книгу The Far Lands - James Norman Hall - Страница 7

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Maui, now in his tenth year, was a lad of great promise, sturdy of body and showing early those qualities of mind and spirit expected of the son of the high chief. But he was a boy first of all, quick of temper and impatient of restraint, and the time had come when the freedom of childhood was to be curbed a little. With other sons of chiefs he was required to attend the priest’s school to begin the long and tedious study required only of the sons of ariki.

The story tells of a day at the school when Maui was given the coral pebble to suck. He would have gone into the hills with two of his friends, Ru and Ma’o, to hunt for wild cocks, but when morning came he remembered that it was a day for school and Hapai, the master, gathered him in with the others. Maui told him of the plans he had made for the day and begged his freedom. Hapai would not consent, and Maui watched with a bitter heart as Ru and Ma’o set off for the hills without him.

The schoolhouse stood near the temple of Tané; it was a pleasant airy house open at the sides and surrounded by a balustrade of plaited bamboo. Hapai was the teacher of the small sons of the chiefs; the older ones were under Métua, the priest. They were taught to repeat the genealogies of the ariki, the chants and rituals connected with the building of ships, the gathering of food, fishing, and all the sacred ceremonies held at the marae. It was tedious heavy work for small boys, but this was the price they paid for being the sons of chiefs.

The lessons began and Maui was asked to recite one of the chants spoken at the temple after the birth of the son of a high chief. Maui knew this well, but in his anger at being compelled to go to school that day he purposely made mistake after mistake. Hapai halted him and called upon Pohi, the son of Rata. Pohi recited without fault and Maui was again called upon. The errors he made were even more than at first.

“You are not trying,” the master said. “You will be given another chance later. When I call upon you again, see that you behave like the son of your father.”

Hapai went on hearing the lessons of the other boys. It was his custom to sit with his eyes closed as he listened, for his full attention was required that he might detect the slightest error in these recitations. Maui kept his eyes fixed upon Hapai, and thinking he had a chance to escape he got slowly to his feet and was climbing over the balustrade when the master saw him.

“Maui!” he called.

The other boys grinned with delight as he motioned Maui to come forward. On the mat beside him was a carved wooden bowl filled with stones of various sizes. From it he took a smooth coral pebble, perfectly round and of a golden color. Maui knelt before him and opened his mouth. Hapai placed the pebble in it; then he said: “Confess your shame.”

The pebble was so large that he could scarcely close his lips over it, but he was compelled to say as best he could: “I, Maui, son of Téaro, am deeply at fault and I willingly suck this pebble.” The attempt to speak was so ludicrous that the other boys shouted with laughter. The master indulged them for a moment, then he sternly commanded: “Silence!” ... “Return to your place,” he said to Maui, and the lessons continued. Half an hour later the other boys were excused. “You will remain here,” said Hapai; then he, too, left.

Maui was long in the schoolhouse. His jaws ached, and he was still angry because he had not been allowed to do as he pleased. Presently he saw Métua, priest of Tané, coming along the path from the marae.

The Tongans loved and venerated their priest. The power of his spirit was so great that it could be felt at once by those in his presence. He had the gift of foreknowledge and this increased the awe with which he was regarded by the people.

Métua entered the schoolhouse, but Maui dared not look up; he could see only the priest’s feet and the hem of his mantle of tapa cloth. Métua sat facing him saying nothing. Presently he lifted the boy’s chin, so that he was compelled to look into his face. Maui was frightened by the stern expression he saw there. Métua held out his hand and Maui placed the pebble in it. It was a great relief to have it out of his mouth.

“Who are you?” the priest demanded.

The boy glanced up and quickly lowered his eyes again. “Maui,” he said.

“Son of whom?”

“Téaro.”

“Son of whom?” the priest repeated, sternly.

“Of Téaro-a-Ataranga, high chief of the Tongans.”

“Named for whom?”

“The great hero, Maui-the-Peaceful.”

Then Métua said: “Recite the chant of the paia who bathes the newborn child of a high chief in the presence of its father and the elder members of his family.”

Maui began:

Te uhi-a-’iri o te tama o te aitu

Te uhi-a-’iri i te vai ora o Tané ...

He repeated the chant from beginning to end without fault.

The story tells of the talk the priest then had with Maui, one which the boy never forgot. He was made to understand for the first time the sacredness of the knowledge handed on from generation to generation. The chiefs and the priests were the bearers of this knowledge, and the sons of chiefs must so train their memories that they could carry it on in turn to their own children. I say no more of this but tell of what followed.

Métua returned the coral pebble to Maui and the boy said: “What shall I do with it?”

“Make a little net for it of bark thread,” said the priest, “and hang it around your neck for this day. Before evening comes hide it in a secret place.”

“Why should I do this?” Maui asked.

“Because I wish you to,” the priest replied.

Maui made the net and hung the pebble around his neck. The morning was then only half gone and he hurried up the valley hoping to find Ru and Ma’o and to catch a wild cock for himself. He went along the path by the river where some of the women were sitting in the shallows making tapa cloth. Resting upon stones lay the beam of tou wood upon which were laid the wide strips of bark, and the women were singing in chorus to the rhythmical beating of their mallets. Maui loved the songs they sang while at this work, but now he walked fast, hoping he would not be noticed; but as he passed, Vahiné, Taio’s wife, called: “Maui! Where are you going? What is that you are wearing around your neck?” Maui hurried on without replying, but he heard the laughter of the women and Vahiné’s scolding voice following him, for by this time all the village knew of his disgrace at school. He was both angry and ashamed, but as he climbed the path up the head wall of the valley he forgot the pebble and thought only of finding his friends.

He left the path and went into the forest lands where he flushed a cock so beautiful that he was bound to have it; but it was strong in flight and led him on and on for a great distance. At last he came out on the path once more where it bordered the cliffs along the northern side of the island. He had lost the cock but thought no more about it for a time. Never before had he gone so far in this direction, so he went on, gazing in awe over the brink of the cliffs, listening to the deep boom of the sea as it struck the walls of sheer rock far below. There was no barrier reef and no lagoons along this northern side.

He came to the highest part of the land, where the path began to descend toward the valleys of the Koros. At that spot was a tall tree standing alone. From a lower limb stretching across the path was hung a streamer of tapa cloth marked with a design sacred to the family of Vaitangi, high chief of the Koros: three broad lines of red, crossed diagonally by one of blue. It was the tabu placed there by Vaitangi’s orders. People of the Tongan Clan could go no farther.

Maui stood looking at this sign. He had heard of it all through childhood and now he saw it for the first time. He glanced around hastily, then boldly walked past the tabu tree and stood on the forbidden land of the Koros. Their valleys were hidden below the hills, but he could see the lagoons along the western coast. He went back to walk a second time into the Koro lands, glancing defiantly at the tabu sign as he did so. When a dozen paces beyond it he looked quickly over his shoulder, but the streamer hung limp above the path, swaying gently in the light breeze. He returned and stood with his arms folded, gazing up at it.

“I am Maui, son of Téaro,” he said. “I will come here whenever I please and do it again.” Then he started homeward.

Well within the Tongan lands, on the eastern side of the central mountain, was a small lake, rarely visited, which lay directly below two high crags whose weathered pinnacles were nesting places for tropic birds and itatae, the small white ghost terns, most beautiful of seafowl. Maui passed that way in chase of another wild cock, which escaped him by flying across the lake. Determined to follow, the boy flung off his waistcloth and plunged into the lake, but as he swam toward the far side the cool water was so refreshing that he gave up the pursuit to lie at ease, on his back, watching the seafowl soaring high over the crags. Then he swam lazily, face down in the water, along the farther side where he could see the bases of the crags falling steeply toward the bottom of the lake.

While swimming slowly along he came to a place where a patch of deep shadow marked a break in the wall about two fathoms down. He would have passed on, but as he looked a misty radiance appeared at that spot, growing steadily brighter. It was sunlight; it could be nothing else. Glancing up he saw that the sun was now hidden by the crags above him; the light was coming through some opening on the western side. Breathing deeply for a moment the boy dived toward the place where this light emerged. The walls of a passageway were now clearly seen. Without pausing to reflect he entered it and was all but famished for breath when his head broke water in a cavern that appeared to be under the crag itself. The sunlight was streaming through an opening in the vaulted roof. A ledge of rock a little above the surface of the water bordered the far side. Maui drew himself up on it, his body trembling from the excitement of the risk he had taken. As he sat there recovering his breath the light slowly faded, for the sun had passed the opening. Presently he seemed to be in complete darkness, but as his eyes became accustomed to it he could see the passage through which he had come dimly outlined in the faint light that came from the lake. Thus assured that he could find his way out again, he tasted the happiness that comes to a boy who has discovered by chance, and at the risk of life, a secret place known only to himself. Of a sudden he remembered the coral pebble hanging around his neck. Métua had told him to hide it, and what better place could be found? Perhaps the priest had directed him. Taking the pebble in its bark net from around his neck the boy groped along the wall until he found a niche where he placed it. “Stay there,” he said, “it is the wish of Métua, our priest.” He was full of courage now, feeling that it was, indeed, Métua who had guided him to this place. Breathing slowly and deeply for a moment he dived toward the entrance to the cavern and came out once more on the surface of the lake.

The shadows of the mountains stretched far down the eastern slopes as he made his way across them toward the path leading to the Tongan valley. When halfway there he heard the startled clucking of a wild cock from somewhere below; then he saw the bird take to the air and fly directly toward him. Crouching in the fern he watched its flight which ended so near to him that he had it in his grasp the moment it touched the ground. It was a beautiful bird; he could scarcely believe in his luck. Far below he caught sight of Ru and Ma’o. Giving a shrill hail he started at a run through waist-high fern, but the land sloped steeply down and he leaped over the highest clumps. The two boys regarded him with wonder.

“Au-é, Maui!” said Ru. “You caught him, and we were chasing him for you!” Each of his friends had a cock of his own.

“He flew straight into my arms,” said Maui. “I flushed two fine cocks but both got away. I searched for you everywhere.”

“Where did you go?” Ma’o asked.

Maui told them of his visit to the lake but said nothing of the secret cavern.

At this period in Maui’s boyhood his father had placed him in the care of Taio, a member of his household, that he might learn the lore of the sea. Taio’s wife was Vahiné, first of the women servants, skilled in the preparing of food, the weaving of mats, the making of tapa cloth and all other tasks pertaining to women. She was quick of temper and sharp of tongue, and her scolding voice could be heard at all hours of the day; but she had a warm heart and was harsh in small things only. Maéva, Maui’s mother, valued her highly.

None was more skilled to teach the lore of the sea than Taio. He could read all signs of the coming changes of weather. He could tell what wind would blow before it came; he knew in what seasons and in what places fish could be taken in the greatest numbers and could mark seafowl hovering over moving schools of fish as far distant as the horizon line. He was short, thick and powerful of body and could dive to great depths and swim for hours without tiring whether the sea were rough or smooth. None equaled him in catching the great sea turtles, which he took with his hands alone in such a way that they could neither dive nor shake him off but were compelled to swim in whatever direction he wished. Many a one he had brought to land from far out at sea.

Other young sons of chiefs were under his training, but Maui and Ma’o, son of Rangi, were oftenest with him at this time. Taio’s youngest son, Ru, was their companion. Taio taught them to love the sea and to think of it, more than of the land, as home.

Taio’s mind was stored with tales concerning the heroic deeds of Tongans as they sailed eastward, and he knew all the legends of the demigods. The most sacred of these was the story of the great hero Maui-the-Peaceful and his brothers.

One night, when they were returning home from fishing, Maui begged for the story, from beginning to end, of these brothers.

“Very well; you shall have it,” said Taio. “You are now in your tenth year, and it is your father’s wish that you should hear it from my lips.” They were then a mile outside the reef. Taio slipped over the side of the canoe. “Go you there to the islet at the left of the passage. Haul the canoe up on the beach, and come to the seaward side. Wait there and listen.”

The boys did as they were told. It was a windless night and the sea was calm, breaking so gently along the reef as to make scarcely a sound. They waited.... Presently they heard a clear high call that seemed to come from a great distance; it was as though some lonely wandering spirit of the sea had summoned them to follow.

Ru moved closer to Maui. “Was that my father’s voice?” he said.

“He told us to listen,” said Maui; then he and Ma’o began to doubt. They stared seaward, and at last they saw a dark spot moving steadily toward them, blurring the reflections of the stars. It was Taio. He caught the outer ledge of the reef, lifted himself over it, crossed the starlit pools amongst the coral and seated himself beside Maui. He took the boy by the shoulders, peering into his face.

“You heard?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Maui. “It was your voice, Taio?”

“Of course; whose else?” said Taio. “But the call was that of your great namesake, Maui-the-Peaceful. Your father wished you to hear it for the first time in just this way, coming from seaward. Now you shall hear the story.”

And Taio told the boys the ancient legend^[1] of how the islands in the Great Sea of Kiwa had come to be. Ages ago, he said, in the time of the demigods, the great sea was empty of land, and one of the tasks set the demigods by the higher gods who gave them life was to fish up lands out of this sea. They obeyed first, but it was hard work. They were proud of their strength; they loved fighting for its own sake, and they taunted one another to battle. Work was forgotten and so great was the slaughter that the race of demigods slowly destroyed itself until only one family remained.

Now, when it was almost too late for the great task to be accomplished, the sons of this last surviving family went forth in their enormous canoes to make amends. Eldest of the sons was Mano-the-Strong; he had a line with four hooks and this he let down to the floor of the sea to grapple for mountainous lands buried there. There was Tumu-the-Witless, who was like a child in his love of destruction; he toppled mountains over, and wrenched off great crags with his hands and hurled them into the sea. There was Tavi-the-Jester, who from fragments of rainbows and the lights and shadows of the early dawn created the phantom islands and anchored them on many a far horizon on the Great Sea of Kiwa. Their beauty filled him with deep content. They were to be there forever and at the same time not there. The smallest of the brothers was Maui-the-Peaceful, who hated war and who was told in a dream that by his voice alone—by the Call of Maui—he would lead the searchers of peace to the Far Lands, the islands hidden in the Great Sea of Kiwa.

Taio’s canoe—he himself at the steering oar, the three boys at the paddles—crossed the lagoon and entered the river. The village was sleeping; no sound broke the stillness save the faint music of a vivo. Tamuri, the old flute player, was sitting in his dooryard playing softly to himself. They brought the canoe ashore by the assembly ground.

“Ru, you will stay with me,” Taio said. “We have the fish to clean.”

“Where is he now?” Maui asked.

“Who?”

“Maui-the-Peaceful.”

Taio looked down the channel of the river flowing quietly in the deep shade of the trees overarching it. The space open to the sky where the stream entered the lagoon seemed to be at a great distance, and beyond was the moonlit sea.

“Out there, waiting for us,” he said. “Who knows? He may be waiting till you are a man grown, able to lead us.”

“But how shall we know when it’s time to follow him?”

“When you hear his call, Maui. Only Métua, our priest, can say when that will be. He has the gift of foreknowledge.”

[1]	The complete legend of Maui-the-Peaceful and his brothers will be found on page 303.