“Mrs. Argüello, we won’t stop until we reach Maketu pā,” the captain said. “We’ve already collected all the flax we can hold, but we’ll get the kai moana, sea food, from Maketu.”
She smiled. “That’s fine with me. The fewer stops, the sooner I’ll get to von Tempsky,” she said, and bit her lip. “Please call me Aleksandra. We’ll be on this ship together for awhile and I don’t stand much on ceremony.”
“And I’m James,” he said evenly.
The coastline, rough and rocky in some places and boasting smooth white sand in others, invariably gave way to deep gray-green bush, spreading on to infinity.
The captain pointed out many pā on the headlands and named the bays for her, but other than a few people waving at them from the cliffs, they saw no sign of houses or whares as they sailed along the shores.
She spent hours grooming Dzień and repairing clothing for the captain and his men. Once she finished those, she searched the piles of sails for those in need of patching.
“You’d best stop that or we might not let you go,” one of the men joked.
“I’m not used to being idle and I have no books to read,” she said.
James appeared soon afterward with a handful of well-thumbed volumes.
She caught up on sleep and read, then spent time learning how to sail the ship whenever the captain was so inclined. Anything to keep from thinking of crazy Broadhurst and her man, back there on the foundered barque.
Xavier blinked in the darkness. His heart lurched every time the ship’s hull cracked against the rocks, which it was doing with increasing frequency.
For three days he’d only seen one of Broadhurst’s tight-lipped henchmen. He’d punched Xavier when he’d asked after Aleksandra. There was no sign of either her or Jacob.
Were they still alive? Had she made her escape?
He gripped his hair and shuddered with the fear of what he might find when he finally got out of this hell-hole.
Footsteps, coming closer.
A bolt scraped and the door to his prison opened.
“We bin boarded, an’ this ’ere Māori, ’ee asked fer ye.” It was Jacob, his eyes wide. The boy looked back over his shoulder at the tower of a man filling the doorway.
The native was nearly naked, but for his short trousers and tattoos. His skin, the shade of mahogany, covered chiseled features that might have been cut from sandstone—and looked just as hard—while his long, black hair was tied back behind the nape of his neck.
“Are you Xavier Argüello?” the apparition asked.
Xavier looked at him sideways and blinked at his unexpected British accent. He nodded.
“Aleks said I’d find you here. I am Tama.”
Now he had his attention. “Aleks?” Xavier struggled against his fetters.
“I put her on a trading boat heading up the coast to find your friend in Coromandel. I’m not sure how she’s going to get that far, but…she seemed determined.”
“You don’t know the half of it.” Xavier shook his head slowly. He flicked a glance out the doorway past the man, and his eyes lit on Jacob. “Come back in, man.”
“I tried to t’come an’ tell ye Aleks got ’way, but Broadhurst’s men wouldn’ let me,” the boy said, his voice strained, as he rushed to Xavier’s side.
“Where’s Broadhurst?” he asked. His stomach clenched as the ship shuddered again, its timbers creaking and scraping on the rocks. A scent wafting in the door nearly knocked him flat. With it came a memory. Whales. Xavier’s eyes watered. “That stench…”
The native’s eyes softened. “Your rescuing ship is a whaler.”
Xavier remembered the smell like it was yesterday. The great, greasy ship in San Francisco, its odor preceding it. But today, it meant freedom and finding Aleksandra. Xavier took a deep breath. “So be it. Thank you.”
Jacob turned a key in one of his wrist irons and Xavier sighed as it clanked open.
“Gather what you need, we’re leaving,” Tama said.
“Thank you, Jacob,” Xavier said, and reached out to put a hand on his shoulder as the young sailor continued to the other wrist, and then down to the leg irons, releasing him. He glanced up at Tama and hesitated. “I have stock on board and all of our belongings.”
“Someone will look after them. Is there anyone you trust here?”
“This one,” Xavier said, and smiled at Jacob, as he rubbed his chafed, sored wrists. The legs would have to wait until he sat down. He was too stiff to bend over.
“I’d be happy to do ee fer you, sir, and fer yer wife.”
“Good lad. Thank you.” He stretched up tall, the first time he’d been able to in since he’d been put in chains, wincing at the pain. At a thought, he inhaled sharply. “Broadhurst? Is he still here?” Xavier said.
Tama shook his head.
“Did you see his mate, a heavily tattooed seaman with almost white hair?”
Tama frowned. “I don’t recall one.”
“Pardon, sir, but them both disappeared las’ night,” Jacob said, gritting his teeth.
“Good riddance. I’ll be glad to see the last of them,” Xavier said.
“I ain’ sure an how ’ee got Broadhurst inta th’ boat—he were near ravin’ with fever.”
“Fever?” Xavier frowned at the boy.
“He were cut,” Jacob said.
Xavier’s mouth dropped open. “Was it Aleks?”
“Yep,” the boy said. “Her an’ that li’l sword o’ hers.”
“A deadly creature, your wife. Lovely, but deadly,” Tama said, the corner of his lips twitching. “Broadhurst and his man shouldn’t get far. There’s nothing but bush for miles. The mission might take them in—if they find it.”
“Never mind,” Xavier said. “You know how to care for the stock, Jacob?”
“O’ course, sir. Ah’ve been helping yer missus while ’ee was locked up.”
“We go, then.” Tama turned to leave. “I assume,” he threw over his shoulder, “you wish to find Aleks and this von Tempsky?”
“Aleks first, and then von Tempsky. He might be able to help get us out of this mess.”
Not one of the crew knew what was to happen with the boat, with both of its captains having now disappeared. The crew wished to remain onboard until the ship was hauled wherever it was to go, and presumably, be paid their wages after the cargo was sold.
Xavier saluted them as he stood at the rail of the whaler.
Mr. Thompson, the whaler’s captain, ordered his men to release the ropes holding the boats together and they drew away from the ragged remains of the once-proud ship, careful to avoid the rocks roughly caressing the Emmeline’s hull.
“I’ll return soon, Charro, for you and the rest,” Xavier said, beneath his breath.
“Pardon?” Tama said.
“The horses. They’re below,” Xavier said. “I’d like to take them, but I’m not sure even my stallion would tolerate the scent of this floating slaughterhouse,” he said, his jaw tight. “I never thanked you for helping Aleks and coming to rescue me.”
Tama grinned and shook his head at the side of the ship behind them. “That woman of yours is something. Did you hear how she got that pony off the ship?”
Xavier’s guts churned and he blinked. “She took Dzień?”
“You really believe she’d have gone without him? Think again.”
Xavier slapped his mouth shut. “How?” he asked, fearing the answer.
“She jumped him over that bulwark.” The Māori nodded back at it.
Xavier swung around to stare at it, then down at the water below it. He flicked his gaze back to Tama, closed his eyes and tried to breathe.
Five feet of solid hardwood, followed by the drop to the water.
What if they’d landed on the rocks?
It didn’t bear considering.
“I’m glad I didn’t know before,” Xavier whispered. “So why else is she so amazing?” he somehow said, past the boulder in his throat.
“She kept up with me, plus she apparently dodges bullets while swimming. I eventually had to put her on that pony to keep her from killing herself, but then, I’d imagine you’re used to that sort of thing?” He cocked a brow at him.
Xavier took a deep breath and gave him the merest hint of a grin as his knees wobbled. “Bullets…” He shut his eyes tight for a moment, then shook his head. “She’s dodged arrows before, but never bullets, so far as I know.”
“She should be in Coromandel soon, all going well.” Tama clapped him on the shoulder. “The trading ship should have taken her around the top of the Coromandel, straight to the town itself.”
Xavier let out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “Thank you again, Tama. You don’t know what a relief it is, knowing she’s safe, for once. It’s a rare pleasure.”
A river flowed lazily out into the ocean at Maketu pā, or would have, if the tide weren’t taking it back upstream.
“And here you’ll find the finest, freshest and fattest fish and shellfish you’ve ever seen,” the mate said to Aleksandra, as she climbed down the ladder behind the captain. “Enjoy your time ashore.”
The captain held up a hand to steady her as she stepped into the lighter sent for them from shore.
“These Māori came to New Zealand on the Te Arawa waka. This was their final landing place when they arrived here from Hawaiki, and what a place it is,” he said, as he greeted the men in the boat and introduced Aleksandra.
Aleksandra’s mouth gaped at the lined-up baskets of seafood on the shore. “I’d never imagined there were so many sorts of kai moana in existence,” she said, trying out her new words for seafood. Her heart twinged as she thought of Xavier. He’d so love to be here to see. She returned her attention to the fish, sea urchins—kina, mussels, abalone—paua, crayfish, and eels displayed on the beach in the shade of a pohutakawa tree, its gray-green branches nearly covered with bright red, spiky flowers.
James selected buckets full of each type of seafood, and they were tipped into wet sacks on the floor of the lighter. He haggled over the prices with the men and handed over the agreed goods, then they jumped back into the longboat. With a wave to the men on shore, the captain signaled to his men and they pulled at the oars and set off through the waves.
It was a beautiful day. The sun shone on the long white beach running along the shore. The sea smelled fresh and the salt spray splashed from an oar tingled on Aleksandra’s face.
“What is that sound?” Aleksandra asked, shaking her head a little, as the high-pitched echo reverberated in her ears.
“Cicadas,” James said. “Little insects in the bush. Rings in your head, doesn’t it?”
She nodded.
Once out at the ship, the crew threw down ropes to tie to the top of the bags. They hauled them onto the deck and stored them under sails in a big basin. Aleksandra made it her job to ensure they stayed wet for the rest of her trip.
The mussels and kina they ate for supper that night were quite different from what she was used to, but she could sure get used to it.
Xavier stood at the rail waving as Tama and his men rowed their lighter back to shore.
The captain came to his side and saluted the men in the smaller boat.
“Thank you, sir, for taking me on,” Xavier said, as the whaler pulled away.
“My men were hoping for more of a scrap than we found on your ship. So the crazy mate was gone, eh? They’ll find him,” he said, with a grin. “Anyway, we only have a few stops to make on our way to Auckland, but we can drop you at Coromandel on our way past.”
“You’re not going after any whales this trip?”
The captain nodded at the barrels stacked two high, strapped to both masts. “The hold’s overflowing. We’ve had to store the extra casks of rendered blubber up here, so no—no more hunting on this trip.”
Xavier let out the breath he’d been holding.
“What’s your interest in Coromandel, if I may ask?”
Xavier told him and the captain frowned. “I don’t think you’ll find von Tempsky in Coromandel. Last I heard, he was south of Auckland, leading colonial troops—into the bush.”
Xavier stared, then he recovered. “This von Tempsky is a newspaperman,” he said, as a niggle started up in his guts.
“Oh, this one went to be a war correspondent, but they discovered he had bush-fighting experience from South America. They’re fighting the Māori for the land south of Auckland and the whole Waikato.”
Xavier gripped the rail till his knuckles turned white.
Fighting? Did Aleks know? Was she in Coromandel seeking a man who wasn’t there?
“Are you OK, lad?” the captain said, his brow narrowed. “We’ll find her. She’s bound to be waiting for you on the docks,” he said, with a grin. “She’ll be waitin’, you’ll see.”
“Thanks for that,” Xavier said, as he flicked the hair back from his eyes with one hand and rubbed his eyes.
“There’s an empty hammock just below. Why don’t you get some sleep? You look like you could use it.”
“Best idea I’ve heard all day,” he said, and went below.
The trading ship began to lurch and roll. Aleksandra looked up from her book to find the bush-covered shore they’d been following for days had disappeared. She glanced up at James.
“We’ve just gone around Cape Colville, the top of the Coromandel,” he said, and pointed north, “and that’s Great Barrier Island. We’re now heading straight ahead into the Hauraki Gulf.”
Aleksandra forgot everything at the view that met her eyes. The waters of the gulf, silver-blue, stretched westward nearly to infinity, where a thin, black mountainous border of land edged them, but the sky, the sky…it took her breath away. The sun had lowered behind clouds that swirled blues, black and grays—almost to purple. She could stare at it for hours as it shifted and swirled.
James’ voice brought her back. “There are many little islands, some little more than rocks, all along this coast.”
“Does anyone live on them?” she said, her eyes still on the scene before her.
“On some of them, yes. Others are places the Māori go to fish and collect shellfish.”
“I just might like Coromandel, after all.” She smiled.
He pointed out several pā on the cliffs as they passed. “Your Coromandel town is just ahead, between those islands. We’ll be there soon and we can check to see if anyone’s seen von Tempsky,” he said.
Xavier stood beside the rail with his telescope, looking at the cliffs and the bush beyond.
“That’s a Māori pā up there, on that rocky headland,” said the captain. “You can see the palisades and parapets?”
Xavier nodded, never taking his eyes from the glass. “Have they been built since the settlers arrived?”
“They’re much older than that. Long before the Pākehā came. They were always a warring society and needed them to protect their own from invading tribes.
Intrigued by the names of the places they passed through the day: Opotiki, Whakatane, Matata, Maketu, Xavier stayed near the quarterdeck, where the captain or his helmsman stood to steer the ship. He grinned. He must be driving them crazy by now. “I appreciate your willingness to answer my questions,” Xavier said.
“Love this place,” said the helmsman. Been whaling here for years. We’re going to stop at Matata, then at Katikati, at Te Kura a Maia pā.”
“What are we stopping there for?”
“Kai moana, what the Māori call seafood. We’ll be there soon, but our landing will depend upon the tides,” the captain said.
“What’s that tall, round flat-topped mountain there, just on the shore? There seems to be…” Xavier lifted his telescope to his eye, “a pā up there.”
“That’s Mauao. The Pākehā call it Maunganui.”
“It’s so tall.”
“It’s an old volcano, like many of the hills you’ll find near Auckland. There’s so much old lava up around Auckland, they make their roads out of ground up scoria.”
Xavier watched the mountain as they passed it and entered a big open harbor.
“Tauranga Harbour,” the captain nodded, and pointed at a town on the edge of the harbor itself, “and Tauranga Town, with Matakana Island just past it.”
“That’s a big island. I can’t see the end of it.”
“It’s thirteen miles long, but narrow. To get to Te Kura a Maia pā, we’ll sail past the island on the sea side and anchor at the bay on the far end of Matakana, just inside the inlet to the Tauranga Harbour.
“The harbor goes all the way around the island?”
“Yes, and the water from the whole harbor has to enter and leave with the tides through narrow inlets at either end. Consequently, the inlet is swift—we can’t sail against it, so we need to go in while it’s going in and leave just after it turns. The channel itself has many shifting sand bars—fine in the shallow-drafted waka used by the Māori, but treacherous for a ship this size. We have to time it just right unless we want to spend another tide cycle there,” Thompson said. “At least.”
Xavier kept looking and talking. Anything to keep from falling into the trap of thinking too hard about Aleksandra, somewhere out there and—knowing her—more than likely in trouble.