A soft nose shoved roughly between Aleksandra’s shoulder blades. She spun from Ranui’s arms to wrap hers around the pony’s neck and buried her face in his mane, shaking.
Ranui’s deep laugh echoed behind her and she turned to look at him.
“You’re a worry.” He shook his head, his smile wide. “That pony will be fine. It’s you that concerns me.”
“Why?” Her brow furrowed.
“I’ve got to leave you soon,” he said, his eyes scrutinizing the banks above them. “You’ll be on your own after this, but I’ll see you to within reach of the bay.”
“Are we still in your rohe?”
“Yes, it’s Ngati Hako nearly to Pūkorokoro, other than the free passage beach, but one of my brothers has recently…created problems, shall we say, with a few members of our hapū living over here. It’s better I’m not found here,” he said, gritting his teeth as his brows narrowed, then he glanced at her long hair. “It might be best, however, if you travel as a boy, especially when you get to the redoubts.”
“So I’ve heard.” She sighed. “Not a lot of women about, eh?”
“You look grubby enough to be a boy, anyway.” He grinned. “I’ve never seen a woman get as filthy as you are right now.” He ducked as she swung at him.
“Like I’ve had the chance to get clean,” she growled.
“Look here, Aleks,” Ranui laughed, “you’ve done better than any Pākehā woman I’ve ever seen in the swamps and I don’t begrudge your getting messy, but I hope you’ll accept a little gift from me before I go.”
She eyed him sideways.
“Soon. We have a little way to walk yet. I don’t want you stuck in the mangroves as the tide rises, so let’s go.”
As the river level rose, they had to walk closer and closer to the banks, tightly covered with the clothes-grabbing estuary plants. The thick mud, deepest at the higher side of the banks, sucked at her moccasins and left deep tracks, while Dzień struggled along, sinking to his cannons with every step.
“I think there’s a track at the top of the bank. When I was here before, we crossed on a boat, further downriver towards the bay,” Ranui said. He forced his way through the mangroves and clambered up the bank. Reaching a hand down to Aleksandra, she grabbed it and climbed up beside him.
“Oh,” Aleksandra said, out of breath. “A trail, and on dry ground yet. Is there somewhere Dzień can climb up?”
They called the pony as they walked along the top and finally found a sloped gully where he could scramble up the embankment.
The track beside the river headed north toward the frith. If she looked eastward, she could just make out the top of a mountain peak over the mangroves and swamp trees.
Ranui pointed at it. “That’s Te Aroha, that tall peak there.” He turned back to face downriver. “You’ll follow this trail to the frith, then keep left at the coast. There’s a Māori village at Pūkorokoro, and up on the hill behind it is the first redoubt. From there, you just follow the Pākehā’s road west past two more redoubts, to Queen’s at Pokino, then straight north to Auckland. I’m sure you’ll be welcomed there, though they won’t want to let a woman go on alone.”
“A woman won’t be going on alone.” She tucked her hair under her hat and stuck out one side of her lip, then slouched like a boy. A shortened bit of hair at the back of her neck hung down over the collar of her buckskins.
His raised eyebrows told her she’d succeeded.
“You don’t look much like a wahine now. I guess they’ll let you travel.” He shook his head.
“James warned me about this too.” She sobered and nodded. “I’ll have to take my chances. Dzień is fast, though he’s probably as out of shape as I am.” She gave him a crooked grin.
“Be sure to save some of his energy for running from anyone who might want to capture you, be they Māori or Pākehā.” He frowned. “The fact that you have a husband makes little difference to some of the men here. There are few white women for them to choose from and they might just take what they want.”
“Hopefully they won’t be prepared for weapons.” She smiled at him as she drew her shashka. His eyes glittered at the sight.
“Wherever did you come by so fine a blade?”
“From Russia. My father was trained by a Cossack arms master, and he trained me.”
His eyebrows shot up and he stared at her. “Even in Aotearoa, we have heard of the Cossacks. Someday, perhaps, you will show me your Cossack skills when the terrain is more suitable.” He lifted a brow at the sodden landscape.
“Your English is excellent,” she remarked. “How did you come to learn it?”
“At the mission school that used to be at Puriri, before the mission was moved to the Kauaeranga River Valley. My father thought we would have need to understand what the Pākehā knew, whether it be their language or their knowledge of the world, so he sent my brothers and me to their school from an early age. Later, we attended Wesley College in Auckland.”
“You’ve done them proud, as we say in America,” she said, nodding at him.
“How are you going to get back across the river?” Aleksandra’s brow wrinkled at Ranui.
“Same way I got here, only a bit further upstream.” He grinned at her.
“Now who’s the worry?”
“I’ve done it all my life. I was just afraid for you. I didn’t know if you could really swim and I didn’t fancy ripping you from the teeth of a shark or two.”
“That wouldn’t be my idea of fun, either,” she said, with a gulp.
“We’re getting close now. Around the next bend, we should see the frith. It’s tidal flats, with many shellfish beneath, until you reach Pūkorokoro. It should be easy going for you both, but remember to watch for the soft spots.”
“How long will it take me to get to there?”
“An hour or two from here, if you do a bit of trotting and a bit of walking, you’ll come to the Waitakaruru. You’ll have to cross it. The flats near it can be swampy, so have a care.”
“Another river?” Aleksandra’s throat began to constrict.
“Yes. It’s smaller than this one and probably too shallow for sharks, but here,” he handed her another piece of eel, “just to make you feel better. Are you sure you don’t want me to come?” He frowned.
“I’ll be fine,” Aleksandra said, with more confidence than she felt. She took a deep breath and turned back to Dzień and scratched his withers. “You’ve kept more eel for yourself, haven’t you?”
“Of course,” he smiled, “but thank you for asking. You’ll know you’re nearly there when the mangroves give way to a shell beach. Soon after that, you’ll see the village and redoubt.” He gritted his teeth. “You likely won’t see anyone in the village, though. I hear it was abandoned after the colonial troops bombarded it from their ships.”
She closed her eyes and bit her lip. “I’m so sorry, Ranui. I wish there was something I could do.”
“There’s little you can do, but I appreciate it, nonetheless. Anyway, after you cross the Waitakaruru, a little stream runs off the bank in a waterfall. When you get there, you might want this.” He handed her a flax-wrapped packet.
“What is it?”
“Unwrap it and find out.”
Aleksandra bit her lip as she worked at the tiny knot in the flaxen string tying it together, then stared at it in awe. She sniffed at it and her mouth dropped open.
“Wherever did you get this? Soap?”
“I made it after my time on a whaler.”
“You were on a whaler?” Her stomach flipped over and she stared at the white lump in her hand, wondering if she dared drop it in front of him.
“Yes, for a short time. It wasn’t the life for me.”
Aleksandra’s hands shook. The urge to throw it at him nearly overpowered her sense of self preservation. She swallowed hard, then glared at him. “The thought of those magnificent—”
“—yes, I know,” he cut in. “You don’t have to say it. I understand completely.”
“Then how could you—”
He grabbed her hand and wrapped her fingers tightly around the package. “That’s why,” he said, in a quiet voice, “this soap is made from coconut oil. It’s not made from blubber. I obtained the oil in the islands. It is a gift, for you.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, as tears flooded her eyes, “and thank you for not killing whales to make it. I know it’s silly, because they’re like anything else I’d hunt, but…I still feel that way. They remind me of horses,” she said, with a shrug.
“I’m glad you appreciate it.” Ranui smiled at her and shook his head.
“When I jumped Dzień over the gunwale to escape the ship, the last thing on my mind was soap.” She grinned through her tears. “I appreciate this more than you know.”
“So when you reach that stream, enjoy your treat. I know you will.”
“Oh, will I.” She shook her head. “I don’t know how to thank you enough for guiding me through the swamp, but I’ll find you a bow and arrows. I’ll teach you to make arrows next time we meet, as well. Start saving thin hardwood, about this size,” she indicated with her fingers. “And, feathers, too. Long, straight ones.
“I’ll do that. You please take care, won’t you? I don’t envy you the ride to come. The districts are in an uproar.”
“I know,” Aleksandra said, and chewed on her lip.
“You won’t be safe anywhere, redoubt or pā, so keep to yourself until you find von Tempsky. His reputation alone will keep you safe, at least among the Government troops. I don’t have to tell you not to say his name to a Māori, do I? So just don’t, eh? I’d like to see you alive again.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” She laughed and stood on her tiptoes to give him a quick hug.
“Here, take this.” He handed her his pouch of koi kumara.
“But you might need it,” she protested. “No, better,” she slid out of her pack and riffled through it for a moment, “you take my pemmican.” She grinned. “Enjoy it. It’ll have to last until your bow and arrows arrive.”
“Thank you, my lady. The pleasure has been all mine,” he said, and bowed.
“Oh, they did teach you things in that school!”
“Yes. Mostly how to be as un-Māori as possible. They didn’t even allow us to speak our own language, but my heritage will not be denied,” he said, his brows narrowing as his lips set into a firm, hard line.
“That is as it should be. Farewell, Ranui. Thank you again, and please, stay out of trouble?”
He leaned toward her and shared with her a long, lingering hongi. They stepped back and smiled at each other, then Aleksandra gave him another quick hug. She waved goodbye as she turned and slipped away, Dzień following closely behind.
Aleksandra looked carefully about her before she led Dzień out into full view of the Frith of Thames. She couldn’t help but stare at the lovely bay opening up before her. It was huge, bordered on both ends by high, bush-covered mountains, dotted with distant mist-shrouded islands. Nothing moved except for the little waves at its edges and the inevitable mangroves, which barely waved in the breeze.
“Getting hungry, eh boy? Not a lot for you to eat out here,” she said, as she fed him a few handfuls of grain. She took a good drink from her canteen, then poured the last of the water into her hat and held it out to him. The thirsty pony drank until it was gone, then they went on.
As Ranui warned, the sand was soft in places, but plenty of it was hard-packed. They paid attention and picked their way along, Aleksandra swinging her arms as they walked side-by-side. Dzień picked his head up and sniffed, then quickened his stride.
“Food or fresh water, Dzień?” He was good at finding both. In the distance, figures on the water along the coast to the west might have been boats, but she couldn’t be sure.
They’d been walking for well over an hour when a river mouth opened up before them.
“The Waitakaruru, Dzień. One more swim, sorry, lad,” she said, “but hopefully, it’s the last.”
The buckskin walked on ahead, then turned his head back to her, as if to hurry her up.
“Oh.” Aleksandra wrinkled her brow and scowled at the river. “We needn’t have hurried to get here. The tide is just beginning to go out. We’ll have to find somewhere dry to take a rest for a few hours, pony.”
He shook his head and followed her back along the edge of the mangroves until they found a dryish clear patch. Aleksandra ate some koi kumara while Dzień munched more of his dwindling grain supply and dozed. She stood up to take a good look around. Satisfied no one was anywhere near, she went to sleep.
Aleksandra awoke refreshed. They returned to the river to find the tide had dropped, so she tied the Mustang’s reins up around his neck and packed her gear, wrapping it tightly against water. She shouldered her knapsack and fished the eel from her pocket.
Dzień turned his lip up when he reached toward her hand to see what she held.
“Starting to smell, isn’t it?” She grinned at him. The water looked much shallower than the Piako, but she wasn’t taking unnecessary chances. “Let’s go, boy. Same as last time,” she said, and threw the piece of fish as far downstream as she could. She watched, but no flurry of activity altered the light ripples of the water’s surface. “Swim time, come on!” she said, and gave his rein a tug. She took three steps into the water, then dove and swam. She looked back once, but Dzień didn’t need to be told twice. He was swimming after her. She turned and swam for the far bank.
They emerged dripping, but the anticipation of a freshwater bath made Aleksandra smile as she hugged the Mustang once they were clear of the river.
Sure enough, a little waterfall made its way off the riverbank. It tasted fresh when she cupped her hands and dipped her tongue into it.
“How can water be fresh in such a place, surrounded by a swamp?” she asked the pony. “It must be from an underground spring.”
Dzień just shook his head again.
Wherever it came from, it was clean and drinkable. She filled her canteen and her hat for Dzień. He drank his fill and ate more feed.
Aleksandra drew out the precious soap from her pack. Sniffing it once again, she closed her eyes in ecstasy before stripping off and having her first real wash in nearly three months.
The light was beginning to fade by the time she was done, but she was clean, truly clean. She could hardly stop the idiotic smile that stretched her face.
Aleksandra dressed and swung on her knapsack, then started walking, her wet hair drying in the light breeze. Dzień snorted at a seabird which froze as he walked up to it. It finally flapped its wings at him and flew away. Birds were everywhere on this stretch of beach. Gulls, sandpipers and oystercatchers pecked the muddy sand as the water rose higher by the minute to cover the little crabs that scurried out of Aleksandra’s way.
Ahead showed the white sand beach that signified she was nearing the redoubt. She stopped and twined her fingers in Dzień’s mane, considering. It was only an hour or so away, but it would be full dark by then. Being shot by a sentry in the gloom wasn’t in the plans, so she kept an eye out for a dry clearing in the last of the mangroves and found one, just as dark fell. She clambered into it for a good look, leaving the pony standing just outside.
When she stepped back out to get Dzień, a fire showed in the distance on the coastline to her right, toward Coromandel.
As she stood watching, her heart began to race as more and more fires lit up the sky. They soon dotted the far coastline around the whole eastern side of the frith. They weren’t little campfires. These were big signal fires.
It couldn’t mean anything good for the Pākehā. As far as she knew, there weren’t any Pākehā settlements along that coastline other than Coromandel, and she counted at least seven fires by the end of a half hour. When she looked toward where the redoubt should be, a few spots glowed, but nothing like the pyres burning on the far shores.
After praying for the safe release of Xavier, Aleksandra somehow slept soundly. She was awake to watch the sun rise over the Coromandel Ranges as she broke her fast with koi kumara. Dzień finished the last of the oats, then nibbled the younger mangrove shoots.
By the light of day, the new redoubt showed in the distance. Men swarmed over the hillside like so many busy ants behind the tall masts of the three tall ships standing at anchor in the bay. With a look about her, she swung up and pointed Dzień northwest along the coast. He moved off quietly, then threw his head up and sniffed deeply as the wind changed direction. He whinnied, then quickened his pace toward the activity.
“Horses there, eh pony?” Aleksandra smiled. “Can’t say but I’d appreciate a cooked meal. There’s bound to be some grass up there, too. You must be getting tired of eating mangroves.” She patted his neck as he broke into a trot, nose to the ground, carefully negotiating the softer patches in the packed mud.
Soon the beautiful white shell beach crunched and slithered beneath her mount’s hooves. Aleksandra dismounted and picked up a double handful of the glossy, iridescent chips of shell, the fragments ranging in color from purple to white to russet. She let the chips run between her fingers while Dzień tugged on the rein, pulling her onward.
Up on the bank to her left stood the Māori village’s whares, behind a fence of tree branches whipped together with flax. Several of the dwellings had been torn apart. Most were blackened and a few were merely piles of charcoal on the ground. There was no movement within the settlement.
Aleksandra bit her lip. Yet another indigenous group moved on.
When it would stop?
A way off to the right stood the ships she’d seen from afar. One revealed itself as the gunship “Sandfly.” She shook her head. “Appropriate. They bite, as I’m sure the balls from those big guns do.”
As she neared the cliffs below the redoubt, a sentry shouted something at her and she waved. She halted Dzień as the young man in a blue uniform ran toward her, rifle at the ready.
She raised her eyebrows at him from beneath the brim of her hat.
“Oh, it’s only a boy!” he said, lowering the muzzle. “What’s your name, lad? What are you doing out here on your own?” He looked behind her, then frowned.
“I’m seeking Mr. von Tempsky at Queen’s Redoubt. I was told I could get there this way,” Aleksandra said, remembering just in time to lower her voice, as she’d done when riding as a boy for the Pony Express.
“I don’t know about any von Tempsky, but you can get to Queen’s this way. Follow me,” he said, spinning on his heel and marching up the beach. Ahead of them, a wide, tidal river mouth opened up to the frith from the west. “That there’s the redoubt, up on the top of the hill,” he said, pointing to the hive of activity at the top of the steep bluff.
“Are they building two? What’s that, to the south of it, by that big tree?”
“Oh, that’s just a little picquet post. We post a piquet there at night. The signaling is done from there, to the ships and the next redoubt at Maipu.”
The rattle of an anchor chain came from a ship, smaller and closer in than the others, and Aleksandra glanced its way to see a boat being lowered over the side. She returned her attention to the sentry. “How far away is Maipu?”
“It’s about four and a half miles.”
“They signal over that distance?”
“Yes. Semaphore, you know, big flags. The signalmen have telescopes and flags so they can read messages from far away.”
“Oh, with a telescope.”
“Yes. They'll be calling that redoubt at Maipu ‘Esk’, after that ship, there.” He turned and pointed at the 21-gun corvette at anchor to Aleksandra’s right. “This is Pūkorokoro, like the river at the base of the bluff. We’re calling the redoubt ‘Miranda’, after that ship,” he pointed at the closest warship. “We need good communication to block the rebels. The Kingites at Paparata pā were threatening the rear of Cameron’s army and raiding rebels were crossing the frontier whenever they wanted.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “They could get across the Grey’s line and rove the Wairoa ranges.”
“Grey’s line?”
“Governor Grey’s line.” He frowned. “Don’t you know? In July, he issued a proclamation that Waikato Māori living north of that line, along the Mangatawhiri Stream, would be banished south of there if they didn’t declare for the government. The governor sent out another proclamation to the chiefs that any Māori who didn’t lay down their arms would forfeit all their lands.”
Aleksandra gripped her buckskins with her free hand as her heart hit her boots.