War to the Knife by Rolf Boldrewood

The dawn light awoke Massinger, who, since his arrival in New Zealand, had cultivated the virtuous habit of early rising, considering it to be one of the necessary attributes of a hardy colonist. Like others who have been educated by circumstances to the practice, he found so many advantages accruing from it, that he resolved to continue it. Hence, though a sufficient sleeper in the early watches of the night, he began to be automatically awakened at daybreak.

A glance around revealed the unfamiliar circumstances of his environment. Of the various groups which had constituted the village community on the previous night, by far the greater number were silent, or slumbering in the _whares_. An occasional figure raising itself from the recumbent position showed that he was not the only wakeful one in the _kainga_. Half-forgotten tales of Indian warfare, recurred to his memory, where the hero, desiring to escape from captivity, looks upon much the same scene as that which lay before him. He could not but feel that he and Warwick were entirely at the mercy of the warriors who composed the greater part of the _hapu_ there assembled. The turn of a straw, in the electrical condition of the political atmosphere, might lead to bloodshed, involving a declaration of war. The first reverse would doubtless throw the Maori people into such a state of wrath and exasperation, that, even against the policy of their chiefs, irresponsible members of the tribe might be tempted to sacrifice isolated parties of the invading race.