A tap was heard at the door,
‘Wake up, lazy bones. Time to get going!’
‘What time is it?’
‘It is six o’clock and we are running late.’
‘I will be down soon.’ Sarah dressed, putting on her trousers and shirt, and making sure she had two pairs of socks on before putting on her boots. She knew if she got blisters she would never hear the end of it from the men. After slinging on her corduroy jacket, she glanced in the mirror, and tied her hair up making sure it was secure before putting on her Stetson hat. After a quick wash, she grabbed her knapsack, screwing up her face as she realised how heavy it was. Peter had been firm about carrying all her stuff, as the guides were to only to carry the provisions. Throwing the rest of her clothes into the bag, she gave the room one last check before proceeding down stairs
After a quick breakfast, Sarah met up with Peter who introduced her to the guides. The guides nodded politely and went back to sorting the gear into reasonable sized bundles for easy carrying. Trying not to appear obvious, Sarah studied the Maoris more closely.
Einyoa was their captain and seemed an interesting character. He was a lot older than the others. Dressed in trousers, shirt and a bowler hat, which he was proud of, Einyoa towered over his companions. Tattoos covered his face making him look distinguished. The others, Rangi, a man in his early twenties, his wife Kiriana, along with her sister Aroha and another man called Matiu, were all dressed in more traditional dress. The women wore grass skirts or piu-pius and Kiriana wore a pretty embroidered top, which covered her breasts. Aroha, instead of a top, wore a large woollen blanket. It was not that uncommon to see women with their breasts uncovered. Sarah was becoming used it and laughed to herself as she remembered comparing them with hers the other night. Like Einyoa, the men had tattooed faces, but not as many as the older man. The women had only one tattoo each, called a moko, on their chins. Peter made a sarcastic comment about how all women should do what the natives did and only wear skirts, knowing he would get a reaction from Sarah.
‘Very funny Peter. You would be the first to jump up and down if I did that.’
Andrew approached them.
‘Dressed for the trip, I see.’ he commented. He was pleased to see her in trousers as it would make it easier for her to walk but it took her femininity away. That he did not like.
Sarah responded with a displeased look.
‘Just call me Sam,’ she said, calling herself a man’s name, whilst also giving her brother a glance showing her displeasure. Both men looked at each other and could not resist a small smile. Sarah noticed but ignoring them proceeded to check the other packs. As she did so, she did not see Andrew once more letting his eyes wander over her now and again, as he too packed his knapsack, deep in thought about this woman.
A couple of European women walked passed and stopped to watch the proceedings. Sarah looked up and smiled. The expression on their faces told her they did not approve of her wearing trousers. With heads held high, the women looked away as she greeted them. Sarah felt her face go red and felt uncomfortable, but told herself it was not her fault that she had to wear these ugly trousers, it was Peter’s!
On the 1st of November they left Auckland, the day was crisp and clear. The men were laden with back packs held by rope slung diagonally across their chests and backs. Sarah was astonished at how much the guides could carry on their backs without seeming to tire and juggled her backpack trying to adjust to its weight. The country as they left to go south was the same as in Auckland, treeless, except for two or three patches of bush. In one of these, Einyoa hid a sack of potatoes for his use on his return to his village.
At the last piece of bush, trees towered above them but were not as spreading as those in Australia. They were covered in creepers up to the top and stood close together. A number of supple jacks had grown up between them and fixed themselves to the branches. It was impossible to penetrate far into the forest without using a knife or axe. The vines were like bamboo, but flexible and they could be bent into any shape. Peter, Andrew and the male guides were at the front swinging their knives or axes, the sweat pouring off their bodies as they worked. Later that evening, after only one quick break for lunch, they arrived at Te Horomanga. The troop had walked twenty-three miles from Auckland and were pleased to stop for the night.
Sarah’s first night was to be a good learning experience. As they halted, she did not know what was expected of her, and sat down waiting for someone else to make camp.
‘Sarah!’ Looking up, she heard her brother’s voice.
‘You need to get fire wood as we have to get a fire lit.’ Sarah nodded as she dragged herself up, dusting off her trousers. After a few minutes collecting pieces of wood, she returned with a small amount of kindling.
Andrew cleared a circular space on the ground, and placed rocks around the outside. He glanced at the meagre amount of firewood in Sarah’s hands.
‘Now we need a lot more than that, lass. We need enough to cook our meal and keep us warm tonight.’ Sarah glanced at him, then at Peter, and without a word placed the kindling on the ground and returned into the bush to collect more. Andrew smiled to himself shaking his head. He was impressed with the way Sarah had walked without complaining, but it was early days yet.
By the time Sarah got back, Andrew had already lit the fire. He looked up as Peter spoke to his sister.
‘That is better! Place it over there.’ Sarah’s arms were laden down with a large amount of firewood. She dropped them on the ground by the fire.
‘Excellent.’ her brother said. ‘ But we need yet another load.’ Sarah took a big breath, letting it out slowly.
‘Are you going to collect some firewood as well?’ she asked Peter.
‘I will be, I am getting our things organised first.’ Sarah glared at him as she turned and went back in to the bush. This time she went further for dry wood and needed to break dead pieces off the trees and it took longer to complete her task. Grabbing a branch, she broke her nail. Sarah screwed up her face with the pain and sucked the finger forgetting it was dirty. Spitting out the pieces of wood and dirt, she wiped her mouth on her sleeve. The taste was awful as she picked up the firewood and returned to the fire dropping the bundle on the pile that was already there. The fire burnt brightly, inviting her to sit down, but that was not to be.
‘Here Sarah, we need water,’ commanded Peter.
‘What!’ she looked at her brother who held out a billy, smiling sweetly.
‘They say a woman’s work is never done.’ he added.
‘Very funny Peter!’ Snatching the billy, something wriggled in her bodice. She froze as the thing moved about. Dropping the billy, she backed up, turned and ran into the bush. Both men and the guides looked up at the sound of the metal billy hitting the ground. Peter followed her, concerned.
‘Sarah, Sarah are you all right?’ he called slightly irritated as he went in pursuit of his sister; it had occurred to him she had thrown the billy down in a temper.
‘Stay there Peter, stay there!’ she called out. With her back to him, she undid her shirt, grabbing and unfastening the buttons. Her hands shook, making the task difficult, while exposing her underclothes and the tops of her breasts underneath.
‘Ahh!’ she tried to hold her breath to stop herself screaming. Grabbing at the offending creature, she missed the first time but managed to make contact flicking it off the top of her breast. Her hands brushed her front furiously in case another was there. Peter examined the object on the ground. An extremely large white grub wriggled on the leaves. He smiled as Sarah stared at him and covered herself up.
‘What is it?’ she asked.
‘I do not know. I will take it back and asked the others.’ Picking up the creature, he went back to camp, laughing to himself.
‘Keep it away from me!’ Her heart pounded as she slowly did up her buttons, double-checking in case another was there.
Andrew was crouched down feeding the fire. He saw Peter come back and go over to the Maoris. Glancing behind him, he saw Sarah return. Picking up the billy, he handed it to her.
‘We still need water, lass,’ he said. Sarah nodded, pretended to bow and snatched the billy from his hand. She was about to go when she realised she did not know in which direction to proceed. Turning around, she looked enquiringly at Andrew, who smiled as he pointed her in the correct direction.
Peter came back from the Maori guides minus the grub as Sarah arrived.
‘What happened to the bug? Where did you put it?’ Sarah asked, as she looked around warily. She handed her full billy to Andrew as Peter laughed,
‘It is called a Huhu bug. It is the lava of a beetle.’ he nodded towards the others. ‘They ate it.’ Sarah’s face screwed up in disgust at the thought of eating the fat little thing.
‘Did they cook it?’ she asked.
‘No,’ he said, with a grin upon his face. ‘Bit off the head, and swallowed the rest.’ Nausea rose in Sarah’s throat but she managed to swallow it away.
A meal was prepared, with everyone helping. It was not long before fried pork chops with a few vegetables were ready to eat. Sarah tried to be a lady, balancing her plate carefully on her knees and managed until the last piece of potato. A stab with her fork and the vegetable flew off her plate landing on Andrew’s plate. Sarah blushed as Andrew first looked at the offending piece and then at her.
‘Would yer be wanting it back Miss Paterson?’ he asked with a faint smile on his face.
‘No thank you, Captain Mackenzie,’ she replied tersely, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. The rest of the evening went smoothly; dishes were washed, more fire wood collected and then it was time for bed. The weather was warm so they did not pitch their tents, preferring to sleep in the open. Sarah felt tired but did not complain, but was worried she was to spend a night sleeping in the same area as Andrew. Nervously, she set up her blanket making sure she slept with Peter in between them and as far away from Andrew as possible. Snuggling down, she slept in the clothes she was going to be wearing the next day.
After a refreshing sleep, Sarah woke. She felt good, but sore. Examining her feet, she was relieved she had no blisters. Not bad for the first day. Breakfast was bread and butter while the Maoris had a large pot of potatoes.
They set off at about six am on their second day’s march. After two miles, they arrived at the Tauranga River. In order to allow them to cross, planks were laid across the river resting in the middle on a small wooden horse.
Peter and the guides crossed first. Sarah held her breath. ‘Just my luck to fall in.’ she thought. Sarah managed to get across safely until the last plank. Her feet slipped on the wet wood, causing her to make a sudden jump to the bank. On landing, she twisted her back, and her pack dug sharply into her. A split second later, she looked up to see Andrew falling backwards, as if in slow motion, into the water. His knapsack flew upwards coming towards her, falling hard on her stomach. For a second she felt stunned and winded, but then heard Peter calling out,
‘Are you all right?’ Then his laughter filled the air. Sarah could not contain herself any longer as she too laughed although she put her hand over her mouth to hide her grin. Andrew sat in the middle of the stream, his face red with anger. He stood obviously not impressed. Retrieving his hat, he put it on his head and proceeded towards Sarah. As he snatched his knapsack, he gave Sarah a cross look,
‘Are yer all right?’ he snapped.
‘Yes, I am fine,’ she said as she bit her lip, trying to hide her smile.
‘I will be back in a minute.’ He stormed off into the bush to return a few minutes later changed and ready to continue. His wet clothing hung on the edge of his kit to dry. Peter helped Sarah up.
‘Any bones broken?’
‘No, thank goodness.’
She straightened herself up, rubbing her sore buttocks. In ten minutes, they were off and came later to a larger river called the Managatawhira where they boarded canoes for the trip down stream. Andrew, Matiu, Einyoa, and Aroha were in one, Peter, Sarah, Rangi and Kiriana in the other. Peter told Sarah she did not have to paddle, let the Maori’s, but she caught Andrew’s gaze and insisted she would. On the river, they passed traders with canoes laden with wheat and flax. Andrew spoke to them asking about a guide. They told him at the next settlement they would be able to obtain more men, who would happily help them to find a guide. Day’s end found them making camp at the side of the river. Sarah picked up the spade and prepared the ground for the fire. Clearing the dirt of twigs and leaves, she placed large rocks around in a circle as Andrew had done. No way was she collecting firewood tonight. Andrew noted how she commenced her work and smiling he went off for wood.
On his return, he saw her sitting staring at the kindling, which would not ignite.
‘What is wrong, lass?’
‘Nothing,’ she sulked. He sighed,
‘Yer first need to put some fine twigs and dry leaves like this.’ He showed her how to prepare the fire.
‘Now stick yer flint and there, yer have a nice fire.’ Within a short time, they had a roaring blaze.
‘Thank you, Captain Mackenzie.’ Andrew paused, their eyes met. Seconds later, he collected two metal side poles and pushed them into the ground followed by the cross bar with a small chain and hook for the billy. Peter glanced at the pair and admired Andrew’s patience with Sarah. He explained things to her simply; obviously, he was used to instructing others. At no time so far had Andrew complained about her. He had to admit Sarah had pulled her weight, had done everything that was asked of her, but if Andrew were not here, would she have been so compliant?
It was time to pitch their tents. Sarah watched how the men erected theirs; only then did she attempt to put hers up. At last she stood back to look at her canvas shelter. It stood tall and straight. Even with the language barrier the Maori women showed Sarah how to make a fern bed and, after a combination of sign language and grunts, Sarah managed to construct a reasonable bed for herself. She stood back, admiring it as the two other women smiled. Sarah smiled in return, acknowledging and thanking them. She liked Kiriana and Aroha who, though shy at first, now interacted more with her.
Camp was now completely set up. As Sarah went passed Andrew’s tent, she noticed his gun had been left uncovered. Reaching in, she pulled it out to examine it. The gun was familiar. George, her other brother used to have one and had instructed her how to use it. She was not a bad shot, though her shoulder hurt after four rounds. Sarah admired the Brown Bess musket, noting it had a percussion cap. The musket was clean and well looked after but if left uncovered, the flies would lay their eggs in the animal grease which was used to keep it clean. Her mind drifted back to older brother George, who had died three years before. She missed him.
‘I will take that!’ Andrew reached past to retrieve the musket from her hand, his chest brushing against her arm. Sarah continued to hold the gun as she came back into the present. Gently, he pulled it out of her hand, and their eyes met and held for a short time.
‘Miss Paterson, yer should not touch things yer know nothing about.’ Continuing to stare at him, she composed herself, wiping away a tear. Andrew checked his musket over.
‘I did nothing to the thing. You left it out and the flies were getting to it.’ Andrew glanced at her suspiciously.
‘That is not the point; never touch another man’s gun. Do yer understand?’
‘Sorry, it will not happen again,’ she said tersely and walked away.
Andrew watched her. A woman with a gun in her hand, what next. She should have known better than to touch his property without permission. He placed the musket back in his tent and covered it.
On seeing a few ducks, Peter grabbed his musket and managed to shoot two and a pigeon. Sarah was interested in the bird. It appeared much larger than the pigeons back home, with beautiful white and grey plumage on it is chest. The taste was good but even if it was not, she was so hungry, she would have eaten anything.
Thus far, Andrew had been the perfect gentleman. Polite, except for the incident involving the musket. He always kept his distance and she remained guarded about him. Peter also helped making sure Sarah was never in a situation of being alone for too long with Andrew or any of the other men. He always asked her if she wanted him to stand guard while she went to the toilet. Sarah agreed for the first few days as she was self-conscious but then she became used to them.
That night as they sat about the fire, Peter retrieved his musket to clean it. Andrew was interested in having a look. Peter handed it to him.
‘I got it in Auckland.’ Andrew was impressed. He noted how well Peter had cleaned it. ‘Once a captain always a captain.’ Andrew laughed at himself.
‘It is an Enfield rifled Musket produced for the first time this year. They say it is supposed to replace the Brown Bess.’ remarked Peter.
‘How good is it?’ Andrew asked. Sarah interrupted them,
‘It uses .557 Ball, percussion action. You can shoot off three rounds a minute. Effective at 300 yards, maximum range 1000 yards. Muzzle loading with adjustable ramp rear sights. Fixed-post front sights and it shoots well.’ She sat opposite him; Andrew lifted his eyes to her as she stared back, a slight smile on her face.
‘Yer have used it, lass?’
‘No.’ Andrew glanced at Peter, and gave back the musket.
‘You are welcome to have a shot later if you like.’ offered Peter.
‘I just might do that.’ Andrew replied.
The next two days were much like the last two, except that at daybreak extremely loud bird song woke them. On the river once more, the banks were lined with many types of trees and plants. The largest were principally pine trees, which were good for timber. Palm like trees, called cabbage trees, dotted the landscape. The ferns, as big as palms, were beautiful and lush. The only sound that could be heard was the rushing of the water and the odd shrill cry of a bird call. Peter noted that so far, they had not come across any good farming land.
On the fifth night, the tired crew arrived at a Maori settlement. The guides from Auckland now became porters, as they were not too sure of the way. Peter and Andrew would have to find more guides. Now an expert, Sarah pitched the tent, lit the fire, and a billy was soon boiling.
After they dined on duck and potatoes, they settled down to listen to and watch what went on in the Maori village. Sarah noticed a few naked Maori children were running about, and several came close to their tent. One in particular smiled and waved. She smiled back; it was like an invitation and the tent was soon invaded by the children. Their parents moved closer too.
The children appeared happy and contented as they played around their parents as they ate their dinner. The little ones were fed food by their mothers, before scurrying away to play, returning for another mouth full. Sarah was particularly interested in her brother’s reaction to the children. He seemed happy to talk with them and tease them with an occasional tickle. Andrew was less forward, but would respond with a smile and a nod as the children came near.
Several times a child ran up, touched them and then ran off giggling towards others as though it was a dare. She did not notice both the men glance in her direction as she sat cross-legged, with a child seated in her lap, cuddling into her as she talked to the others as best she could. Sarah had not had much to do with children and to be surrounded by them was a different experience for her. She liked it. She looked at the mothers as they fed their babies at the breast without caring who watched them. At one time, she went over to a mother suckling her child. It was the first time Sarah had experienced seeing a woman feeding. Slowly she approached the woman, who sat cross-legged on a mat, her child fixed and suckling at her breast. Crouching down, she looked at the mother and smiled, reached out, paused and pretended to touch the child. The mother nodded as if she knew what Sarah wanted to do and allowed her to touch the baby as it fed. Peter smiled as he watched his sister, thinking that for the first time he was seeing her maternal side. He also had had nothing to do with children and admitted he enjoyed the experience this evening.
A few of the adults brought slates with calculations for the amount they expected to get for their wheat and asked if they were right. Peter agreed with Andrew that these people were intelligent and that their calculations were correct. Several knew the names on the map, which gave them a good idea of where they were going.
Peter and Andrew disappeared that evening as they needed to see a trader who could help in finding a guide. They left Sarah to enjoy the atmosphere but she did overhear Andrew ask one of the Maori woman guides to keep an eye on her.
The noise of the Maoris being summoned to their prayers awakened the group the next morning. The villager’s high-pitched chanting echoed around the huts. Sarah had wanted to get up and go to the toilet in the middle of the night but was either too scared or self-conscious as she may wake the others. There was no way she could wake Peter, she would never have heard the end of it, so she had suffered in silence, wishing for the morning to come. After breakfasting on the left over duck and the last of their bread, they settled down for a day of rest.
The previous night Andrew had managed to get a guide for the next part of their trip. The guide wanted ten pounds but Andrew said two, but agreed finally on three. The guide was Nuia, a tall strong looking man dressed in traditional clothing of pui-pui, the grass skirt and cloak. At first, the Auckland guides eyed him with suspicion, but after talking, they came to an agreement of some kind. The new man scrutinised Sarah curiously. Without a word, he came over grabbed her hat and pulled it off her head. As he did, he dislodged her hair and it fell around her shoulders. Nuia smiled as his eyes looked her up and down, then his other hand reached out and ran it down her cheek. He held the strands of her hair, letting them slip between his fingers. At first, Sarah pulled slightly away but stopped herself moving further. Nuia dropped his hands, returned her hat to the top of her head, turned and went back to talking with the others. Sarah glanced up to see Andrew looking in her direction; there was no expression on his face but as their eyes met briefly, she looked away. Sarah felt the colour rising in her cheeks, remembering his face. No sign of what he may be feeling on his lips but his eyes told a different message, sending a ripple through her body. She tucked her hair up under her hat trying to divert the sensations.
Andrew had been interested in seeing her reaction as Nuia approached her but when her hair fell about her shoulders and the native reached out to touch her, another feeling stirred in him. A feeling of wanting to defend her, and to his surprise, something else stirred.
The next day, they passed several settlements on the banks of the river. Sarah was surprised the day went so quickly. When they stopped at their next campsite, the tents were quickly pitched and fires were lit. After a meal of more pork and potatoes, all collected more firewood before settling for the night.
Sarah went to the gather wood and go to the toilet and on discovering several ducks and pigeons around, she returned to camp. The men were not present, so she retrieved Peter’s rifle and shot belt. Placing the belt over her shoulder, she proceeded back into the bush to get tomorrow night’s supper.
Peter and Andrew meanwhile returned to the camp and both sat around the fire, restocking it. A shot rang out, echoing around the forest. Both stood up, searching in the direction the sound came from. Peter noticed Sarah was not there; he quickly glanced into his tent and swore.
‘That little madam!’ Three more shots were heard as the men tried to find out from which direction the first had come from. Then silence.... Several minutes later Sarah returned, musket held down by her side, her other hand holding something.
‘Sarah!’ Peter shouted. ‘How dare you take my gun! I have told you before about that. You do not know how to fire the thing.’
‘I can read and if I can fire that one,’ she pointed to Andrew’s gun, ‘I should be able to fire this,’ she replied crossly.
‘Give me that!’ Peter reached out for the firearm, ‘I should belt you one.’ He snatched the gun and checked it was not loaded. Sarah sighed,
‘It is all clear. I will choose to ignore your threat, dear brother.’
‘Lass, that was a waste of shot,’ remarked Andrew.
‘Was it?’ With a flick of her wrist, two pigeons and one duck were thrown at the feet of the men. ‘I only got three, as I needed to adjust the sights. Tomorrow’s breakfast, gentlemen.’ Sarah walked away.
‘So she’s a good shot then?’ asked Andrew.
‘Hmm, thanks to my brother, she is nearly as good as I am.’ Andrew did not know what to think, but sat down by the fire shaking his head.
Later that night Peter took Sarah aside and talked quietly to her.
‘Sarah, you are not to touch my gun again without permission, do you understand? It is not a tool for you to use.’
‘Peter, I could not find you and anyway I know how to use it.’
‘I do not care; you are not to touch it again.’ Sarah went to walk away, but Peter reached out and grabbed her arm to hold her back. ‘Understand, Sarah?’ he looked extremely angry.
‘Yes Peter, I understand,’ she said despondently as she looked down at his hand. He let her go. Sarah was disappointed with her brother. Up until now, he had been reasonably supportive of her doing male things. She wondered how much influence Andrew had had on his reaction.
Andrew tried not to eavesdrop but even though the pair was whispering, he had heard what they said. He was pleased Peter had stood his ground. He also felt a firearm is for men to use, not women. Andrew was also satisfied that Peter had asserted control over Sarah. She certainly needed it.
Even with the altercation that night, the evening was Sarah’s favourite time of day. Every night she made sure the billy was on so she could have a wash. Slipping into her tent, she washed herself as much as she could before changing into clean clothes. When the task was completed, and if there was enough light, she would sew or read her book. However, her favourite pastime was to sit near the fire, watching the flames dancing around the wood and the smoke curling its way upward. Tonight a moth made fruitless attempts to struggle skywards away from the heat. Glancing over to the men who sat talking and smoking their pipes, with a wee dram of whisky in their hands, she smiled at the scene. She felt safe and secure. Their presence calmed her for the night’s sleep, which came quickly as she felt exhausted. Tonight, she made sure she did not drink too much and after paying a visit to the bush before retiring, she took a pain powder as she was experiencing pain in her shoulder due to the recoil of the firearm.
Next morning when Peter came out of his tent, he noticed the guides, including Nuia, had left with all their belongings and a canoe. The only sign of them having been there was the smouldering fire. Swearing to himself, he reached into Andrew’s tent and shook his feet.
‘The Maoris have gone!’ Peter called. Andrew appeared surprised as he glanced at Peter, then at the empty campsite. Reaching into his tent, he pulled out his kit and retrieved a map, and the two pondered over it looking at their options.
As Sarah stirred, she heard the men discussing the trip. Curious as to what they were saying she rose. Her shoulder was still tender and she did not put her hair up as was the usual. Andrew and Peter both looked up as she came over to them, brushing her hair from her face. Andrew observed her beautiful thick, brown hair, as it blew about in the wind.
‘Where are the guides?’ she asked.
‘Gone walkabout, but they will be back,’ Andrew lied.
‘I thought only Aborigines went walkabout,’ Sarah commented.
‘Right Sarah,’ said Peter, ‘we need the fire restocked and the breakfast on please.’ Sarah sighed and nodded.
‘I will have to do my hair first and go for a walk.’
‘Be quick about it.’ he teased.
‘Peter!’ she sounded annoyed. He ignored her as he pointed to the map. A few minutes later, the fire was going and the billy was on.
‘Huh!’ Sarah let out a gasp. Three Maoris warriors stood in front of her. Her hair was down and blowing around causing her to brush it from her face and they could easily see she was female. As she gasped, both Andrew and Peter glanced up, their eyes fixed firmly on the natives. All tall and dressed in the traditional Maori skirt, their chests were bare except for a necklace or two. Tattoos were beautifully etched into their skin. The men’s black hair, tied up on top of their heads, was decorated with two black and white feathers. Weapons were held firmly in their hands. Sarah stood tall as Peter reached over and pulled her behind him to shield her from the new arrivals.
Peeking around her brother, Sarah stared at the strangers. She noticed they were handsome, distinguished, fit and strong. Andrew glanced at his tent, the firearm inside no way could he get it if he needed it in a hurry. Everyone stared at each other; no one said a word. The Europeans watched, moving only their eyes, as one man walked over to the guides’ abandoned campsite. Glancing around, he picked up the ashes, before tossing them back onto the old campfire. The three men looked around the campsite then glanced at the pakehas.
One walked over to Peter and Andrew, stretched out his hand between the men to touch Sarah. Peter’s hand shot out and grabbed the offending man’s wrist. He held his head high, both men stared defiantly at each other, neither moving a muscle. Peter felt his mouth go dry; his heart was in his throat. Sarah jumped slightly as she felt Andrew’s hand on her arm pulling her towards him and away from Peter. She felt his strong arm around her, smelt his masculine odour. Sensations of both fear and excitement shot through her body.
The Maori said nothing and without a change in his expression, he nodded at Peter and pulled his arm away. All sensed the tension in the air as they continued to stare at each other. One of the visitors signalled to his companions. The natives backed away into the undergrowth and were gone.
Frightened, Sarah bit her lip and she gasped for air. Tears formed in her eyes. Andrew released her as she continued to stare at Peter, who after watching the Maoris disappear turned towards his sister. His skin was drained of blood, but he reached out encouraging her to come to him to give her a hug.
‘Right,’ he said, ‘I think we better get going.’ Relieved, they finished cooking breakfast and packed the canoe.
‘Peter?’ Andrew spoke, ‘Have yer had any experience with that type of altercation before?’
‘No, only the minor physical disagreement at school and fighting with her.’ He pointed to Sarah as he laughed. Andrew smiled.
‘Yer did well this morn. So did Sarah.’ Peter nodded.
‘Sarah, sit yerself in the middle, lass.’ Andrew pointed to the canoe.
‘Yes, Sir,’ she said as she climbed in.
‘Hmmm,’ he replied and stared back at her expressionless, before turning away to push the canoe into the water. ‘He is like every other male, dominant in every way.’ Sarah thought. Later she felt embarrassed at her reaction as he was only telling her where to sit.
As the paddles dipped into the water, Andrew remembered her trembling as he held her closer than he knew he should have done. He had smelt her perfume with its hint of lavender, and felt her soft feminine body causing part of him once more to stir, slightly upsetting him.
By seven, they had paddled their way over the water towards the Waipu River. There were many low islands covered with flax and scrub. From behind one, they saw the front of a canoe emerging. The men placed their muskets on their laps in case they were needed. The canoe moved out from behind the side of the island to come straight at them. Terrified it could be the three Maoris they had previously met, Sarah held her breath. Slowly they saw more and more of the canoe. All sighed as their original guides came in to view.
The natives paddled up beside them allowing Einyoa to talk. He explained in broken English they realised scouting parties from a Taupo tribe were in the area. If the scouts had come across them at the camp, the women would have been raped and the men killed, or worse, taken with them.
The tribe would not be interested in the Europeans as they were not at war with them, but only with other Maori tribes. Therefore, it had been easier for them to disappear and join up with them later. Andrew and Peter mentioned the early morning visitors, confirming the guides had made the right decision.
Paddles were dug deep into the river as they moved swiftly through the water. Peter noticed Sarah was having trouble.
‘Sore shoulder Sarah?’
‘Slightly uncomfortable, must have slept on it the wrong way.’ Peter leant forward and spoke through tight lips, into her ear.
‘It was the shooting you did the other day. Now will you believe me and not use my gun again!’ She did not respond.
Andrew smiled as he heard Peter stamping his authority once more before turning his attention to the scenery around him. He noticed plenty of good land between the river and the hills. Here the hills were three to four miles from the banks in places. Glancing up into the trees, he was surprised to see large quantities of white stones peppered with holes. Several could be seen high in the branches.
Sarah pondered how a stone, about a foot wide could end up there. On hearing Andrew’s voice, she turned as a large white rock came towards her.
‘Here lass, catch!’ She put her hands out to catch the object. Expecting it to be heavy, Sarah was surprised to find it was as light as a feather. Andrew threw one at Peter and explained,
‘It is a rock thrown out by volcanoes when they erupt. It is light and floats up into the trees when the river is high and when the water goes down it is left high and dry. I believe they call it pumice. Keep a piece; it is good for scrubbing yer feet.’ Sarah was impressed and placed a piece in her kit.
As evening approached, the hills in front of them appeared to be right down to the water’s edge and they could not see an opening until they were right at the foot of them. It was a beautiful scene as they passed several Maori settlements, set amongst native bush with a small number of peach trees. The hills were indented by deep ravines that came down to the edge of the river. On one side, the high peaked hill of Taupiri was covered to the top with trees of every shade of colour. On the other side, fern covered ridges threw the wooded ravines into partial shade.
Nuia called out and informed them about a missionary station down the river consisting of a Maori village and several European settlements.
The group pulled up next to several other canoes. As Sarah got out and stretched, she glanced around. To her left was a fortress called a Pa, consisting of at least eight feet tall fern tress forming a fence. Spaced along the top were carvings of Maori heads and bodies. To their right, were several colonial cottages with the neat and tidy mandatory flower and vegetable gardens. Once they had landed, several men ran back towards the pa and cottages to inform the occupants and as the gear was unpacked, a missionary, by the name Reverend Thomas Aston, arrived. While they talked, a flurry of activity occurred as a small child had gone missing. Thomas excused himself with the promise of making contact later that night. After organising a hut for the group to spend the night in the Pa, he went off to help organize a search.
On entering what appeared the gateway, they walked along a path between two walls, crossing several ditches and moving higher up a hill before arriving in the centre where several huts of different sizes were. The buildings were decorated with woodcarvings, all appearing well built and organised. Several were up on poles; the guides explained they are for the storage of food. Both the men were impressed by the settlement ability to protect its occupants.
In the evening, Thomas returned to inform them the child had been located and invited them to stay the night with his family rather than the hut but as they were already set up they declined. However, he insisted they came up to the house for tea.
Sarah protested and indicated her attire.
‘I am not respectably dressed for visiting,’ she whispered to Peter.
‘Put a dress on. The maroon one will fine.’
‘But I am dirty.’ Sarah glanced at Revenant Thomas who appeared unimpressed with her male attire.
‘A quick wash is all you need. I will boil water.’
‘All right,’ she snapped back and smiled at the Reverend not wishing to offend the gentleman any further.
Thomas’s wife, Rachel Ashton, served a lovely meal. A small, thin English woman, her hands looked red and worn. Sarah talked about their trip so far and was interested in how Rachel managed the children, especially with their education. The Ashtons had eight children ranging from six months to twelve years of age. Rachel ran the household with three servants, a girl who helped with the children, a cook and a housemaid. It was extremely hard to find good help and she had trained one of the village girls as a housemaid. Rachel commented it was hard juggling the children, but the older ones helped a lot with the younger children.
The Rev Thomas ran a girls school and the older children studied reading, writing, arithmetic, and tables and learnt the piano. Besides this, all had chores to do before and after school. Rachel found the hardest thing was to make all they required. All the clothes for Thomas, herself and the children had to be made and the need to make soap, candles and preserve all their food for later use took up all her time in the evenings. Any supplies they required were ordered from Auckland weeks in advance. At times Rachael admitted she was pleasantly surprised at what arrived, as she could not remember what she ordered. The visit ended with Rachel promising to boil water for Sarah to have a bath tomorrow. Sarah was delighted; the bath sounded divine.
Waking early the next day, Sarah’s eyes adjusted as she glanced around. The walls of the hut were formed principally of the trunks of fern trees. The thatch was a layer of nikau palm branches, which were neatly plaited over flax leaves and covered, with a network of tangled roots to keep them from being blown off by the wind. She could not see the ceiling as it was thick with smoke and hung as low as their shoulders when standing. Below that, the smoke was blown away through the crevices in the walls. It reminded Sarah of a hut she had seen in Australia.
When they were not in a tent, Peter made sure his bedding was in-between Sarah and Andrew, as he was still protective of his sister. His loud penetrating snoring was right in her ear, which kept her awake for most of the night. Glancing over to her brother she sat up looking in Andrews’s direction as he leant against the wall smoking his pipe. He observed her for a while. Their gaze met, and then turned to Peter as she too leant against the wall.
‘Noisy is he not?’ Andrew commented as he glanced down at the sleeping Peter. Sarah nodded and spoke,
‘You must have slept in the same room with a lot of noisy snorers being in the army?’
‘I have heard a few different men in my time, but yer brother may be the worst.’ Sarah laughed, ‘and his sister last night joined him.’
‘Excuse me!’ she said indignantly, but quietly. ‘I do not snore!’ Andrew laughed. ‘You are supposed to be polite enough not to say that to a woman.’
‘I do not usually sleep in the same room with one I am not related to or involved with as yer might say.’ Sarah blushed.
‘I must be getting a cold. ’ she said quietly.
‘I should nae have said that, I apologise. You snore quietly,’ he nodded. Pondering for a few moments before he spoke,
‘Why are yer here?’ he asked. She shrugged her shoulders,
‘I do not know...I did not want to be left behind I suppose. I do not want to be in a loveless marriage like many of my friends and cousin. I am searching for something, but I do not know what it is.’ She wanted to say abusive but did not.
‘Why are yer trying to prove yer can do what a man can do?’
‘Because I can.’ She turned her head slowly towards him and stared back, smiling.
‘Yer can thank Peter for that.’ He nodded. ‘It is because of his patience yer here.’
‘I suppose you may be right.’
‘I think yer learnt something when firing the gun. A woman cannot do everything a man can without consequences.’ He pointed to her shoulder, but Sarah changed the topic.
‘Why are you here, Andrew?’ He noticed she had not addressed him as Captain.
‘Curious. Want to see what this place is like and what it has to offer. Australia is too hot and I have other reasons.’
‘If you are looking around, why can a woman not have those same reasons?’ He smiled and nodded as he re-positioned his pipe. Andrew preferred not to say any more as Peter awoke, looking up first at his sister, then at Andrew.
‘Good morning. I had a good night’s sleep,’ he yawned and stretched. Sarah hit him on his arm.
‘What have I done?’ he asked.
‘Nothing Peter, but if I have to sleep in the same room as you tonight, you could end up in the middle of the paddock.’ Sarah appeared cross but smiled as she got out of her bed.
As they ate breakfast, Thomas came down to say Rachel was ready for Sarah. Sarah rubbed her hands with glee as she imagined herself in her bath.
‘How long are we staying for Peter?’ she asked.
‘We will not be leaving today. Maybe tomorrow.’ Sarah nodded. Carefully, she un-wrapped her green dress from brown wax paper so she could reuse it. She shook the dress out and inspected it. Only a little crinkled, it would do. Placing it on a stack of clothes that needed washing, she sighed, picked them up and proceeded to the Ashtons. Rachel offered her copper for washing clothes and, like a fool, Sarah mentioned this earlier to the men. Her small pile of washing, as a result, tripled in size.
Thomas suggested while Sarah was up at the house, the men come to see his Girls School. Andrew thought it would be interesting and off the three went towards the building. There were fifty girls present, ranging in age from six to seventeen years. All appeared neat, clean and definitely better than any of the girls they saw at the village. An intelligent looking group, Thomas began by having the students chant their arithmetic tables, which they did well. He told the men they had a good ear for music and he found it helped when teaching them. He encouraged the girls to count and they quickly gave answers when adding or subtracting in pounds, shillings and pence.
Andrew was impressed when several read well in English. The girls showed considerable knowledge of the Bible and answered any questions put to them and knew the principal countries of the world.
‘Not bad for only three years’ work,’ Thomas said proudly. The visit concluded by the students singing several short songs.
‘Reverent Thomas, I must congratulate you on an excellent job. It must be gratifying,’ Andrew commented. Both excused themselves and said farewell to obtain more supplies and complete several other chores. Thomas made them promise to come again for dinner. Agreeing, they left him to get on with his teaching.
Sarah completed the washing and walked back to their hut with it under her arm. After her bath, she had placed perfume in the right places, and a corset. Slipping her dress on, she admired its fit. Obviously, she had lost a few pounds. Remembering the night before it was nice to be in a dress again and to feel like a lady, but as she held the washing to her, she felt she must look like a washerwoman. Meanwhile, Andrew had completed his tasks and made his way back to the pa. In the distance, he noticed a woman coming in his direction. At first, he thought it must be one of the settler’s wives, but as she came closer, he saw that it was Sarah. For a few seconds, he could not take his eyes off her. He liked her in a dress with her hair neatly put up. She looked beautiful, and once again, he felt that uneasy feeling he had experienced on several occasions when she was close.
‘Afternoon, Miss Paterson,’ he touched his hat.
‘You are being the gentleman, tipping your hat and all.’ Sarah smiled mockingly.
‘Yer look the part, lass. I thought I should be polite. Come on, I will escort yer back to the pa. Have yer seen Peter anywhere? He was supposed to be going to the traders for shot and tobacco.’
‘No I have not as I have been too busy completing my domestic duties.’ Sarah replied tartly, annoyed at doing all the men’s washing as well as her own.
‘May I help yer with that bundle?’
‘Yes, thank you kind Sir,’ she said and she curtsied before handing over the bundle. Her gaze on his face, they paused. Her heart betraying her, initially she did not look away but Andrew’s smile and the twinkle in his eyes, made her blush. Down her head went, hoping he had not noticed her change of colour.
Andrew noticed her discomfort, and was surprised and amused. Without a word between them, the pair walked back to the pa.
That evening, they dined once more with the Ashtons and their family and another guest whom they had met before called Miss June Campbell, who was the teacher from the mission. The children dined at a separate table in the same room and after dinner, they performed several party games and sang. Laughing and giggling at the antics, all seemed to enjoy themselves. Rachael played the piano and much to Sarah’s embarrassment, Peter announced that Sarah could also play. June insisted she did so. Sitting down in front of the piano, Andrew could not help but be impressed at her performance. He found his heart betraying him once more. As Sarah finished everyone clapped.
‘Yer sister seems to have a few little strings to her bow,’ Andrew commented quietly to Peter who proudly smiled and nodded.
The evening finished with the trio slowly walking back to camp. The men smoked their pipes as they went with Sarah walking in between them. It felt as they were both protecting her. Sarah admitted that she liked the two tall, young gentlemen escorting her back to camp.
That night she lay awake thinking of all the work that would be involved when setting up a house. She had thought she would have Peter to help her but she realised now he might not always be around. Seeing Rachael Ashton, she realised a woman could not do it on her own. She would need the help of a husband, as he needed the help of a wife, to survive out here. Did she want to marry? Her eyes moved around the hut, resting on Andrew. He would be a good husband for the woman he wanted; Peter could be considerate and protective too. She admitted he was keeping a good eye on her. Not all marriages where like her Uncles. Her mother and father appeared close and her father always polite and appeared to respect her mother but her father always had the last word.
Did she want children? The Maori children were cute and their mothers were wonderfully attentive as they breast-fed them. Sarah thought about marriage in general. Yes...well, maybe, she wanted to marry after all, but she remembered the husbands having total control over their wives and it alarmed her. Rachel was lovely, but like her own mother back home, she did everything her husband asked of her. Especially that other thing, wifely duties, which frightened her more. Still confused, her mind thought about home and what was to come. She managed to fall in to a restless sleep, even with Peter’s snoring vibrating around the hut.
Dreams of home flowed back into her mind. The evening they went for dinner at her Uncle Hugo’s and his slightly younger wife. Twelve guests sat around the table. Great grandmother, Sylvia Paterson, her parents George and Geraldine. Cousins Frank, and Debbie with their partners and the Colonel, Sir Arthur, a friend of the family and of course the hosts. The table was immaculate and as the meal progressed their hostess, Daphne spoke,
‘I saw in the paper the first woman doctors have graduated in America. I think it is thrilling women doing the same as men.’
‘Do not be silly Mother. Woman’s brain is not as advanced as us men,’ laughed Frank.
‘Frank, I believe you are incorrect.’
‘Daphna come now, you are saying that your brain is equal to mine.’ Her husband Hugo drew her attention as he drunk more wine, staring at her with cold eyes. The man was obviously drunk as he slightly slurred his words and waved his hand indicating the other men.
‘Well maybe, what I mean....’ He interrupted
‘No my dear a man will always be more intelligent and will make all the decisions in the house as your brain cannot understand the complexities of this time.
‘But Hugo,’ the moment she said it she felt sick.
‘Enough woman!’ He thumped his fist on the table causing the plates and silver ware to clatter drawing everyone’s attention. ‘Do not speak woman! It is not your place. You have no say!’ His face red with anger, spitting the words out. ‘No woman is more intelligent as a man, do you not agree?’ Obviously flustered and fumbling her words she looked down at her napkin. Daphne’s face glowing red as tears entered her corners of her eyes.
‘No Hugo you are correct.’
‘Aye gentlemen, I am sure you agree women are ours to have and own. As my Daphne is here to have my children and do as I say. She is a good little bitch. Does my bidding without complaint. Why bark when you have the bitch to do it for you.’ He appeared smug and slurped his wine down.
Peter grabbed his sister’s hand under the table squeezing hard and as their eyes met he shook his head for her to say nothing. Sarah’s lips tight together, her breathing was noticeable as her father also gave her a warning glance. Changing the subject Hugo looked at his brother George.
‘About time yer wed your girl George. She needs a man to keep her under control. She is fit and healthy for a man to have his pleasure with.’ Sarah’s skin darkened.
‘Hugo I feel that topic is between my daughter and myself, not my older brother.’ Both men stared at each other. Peter flicking his gaze from his father and uncle, remembering George had turned down Hugo’s proposal of marriage between his son Frank and Sarah. Tension cut the air, Peter tried to divert the conversation.
‘Speaking of the papers, a ship called the Randolph has left on the 7th of September to Lyttleton, New Zealand. They say it will take them 100 days. I am thinking of going via Australia to see what the fuss is all about. Might be worth a look.’
Sarah’s eyes shot open, her ears pricked up as she turned to see her brother. Peter leaving, going hundreds of miles away. She will die if he does. She sat listening to the conversation of settling in a faraway land. Peter telling all of his plains before the conversation went on to cricket.
Sarah’s eyes scanned around the table first settling on Geraldine Paterson. Her mother devoted to her father but does everything he says. She cannot recall an argument between the pair. Her cousin, Frank’s wife, Annie, pregnant for the second time in two years, appearing pale and tired.
Her other cousin Deborah, her husband Joseph. Deborah always polite and air of being the perfect wife however, Sarah’s heart sunk remembering a conversation she overheard between her grandmother and her mother. Moving on. Daphne returned a weak smile trying to cover her embarrassment. Sarah became frightened, is this her destiny? She thought of Wesley causing her to tingle all over and deep down in her gut she knew she had to get a way. She did not want to have children and did not want to be wed. It terrified her. She had to make a plan and talk to Peter to take her elsewhere.
It was hard enough doing her father’s bidding. No this was not for her. The female doctors came to mind as did her governess who encouraged her she could do anything if she was determined to.
Gaze resting on her Grandmother.
Sylvia Peterson was the matriarch of the family, very wealthy in her own right and was not mean with it but demanded a certain level of behaviour. Sarah did have a soft spot for her and loved her dearly.
The woman smiled back as their eyes met breaking Sarah’s sombre expression, causing the younger woman to smile. Sylvia saw the girl’s face when her son spoke about his wife. Sarah was her favourite. She remembered she had seen her just after she had spoken to Grenadine about Deborah. Deborah had a brute of a man for a husband. Joseph had beaten and raped her after a night of over indulging. She felt guilty as she had a say in who the girl wed. It should not have happened but with his father-in-law demonstrating the same views regarding women, did not help. She flicked her eyes at Hugo; she will have stern words to him after the meal.
Back to Sarah once more. The girl took over the family home when her mother was unwell, running it more than adequately, showing she was mature for their age and could manage staff. Maybe she is destined for something else.
They had a queen, Victoria. No man told her what to do. Times were changing. Did she want this life for Sarah. The child when younger was always up to mischief. A part of her felt jealous she was not the same when she was young. Sarah was reader, loved searching and finding information, sucking it up like a sponge. She thought finishing school may have tamed her youngest of twelve grandchildren, but she saw it had not. Smiling to herself she made a promise she would let Sarah choose her spouse.
Dinner concluded with the women retiring to the front room and the men to the den for more whisky and cigars.
Sarah sat by the fire staring at the flame, memorised by the flickering light, depressed with her thoughts, until interrupted.
‘Sarah my dear, are you not well?’
‘I am fine thank you grandmamma. It is ...It is just....’
‘What my dear?’ Silvia moved slowly and touched the troubled hand. Her days were numbered the Doctor told her she only had months to live.
‘I want to go. I want to go and see what the world.’ Sarah dropped her voice and whispered, flicker her eyes at Deborah. ‘I am frightened. I do not want to be in a marriage like Debbie, or be a baby factory like Annie. I think I am selfish. I want to do what my brother wants. I feel I will suffocate married to a man I do not love. Why can we not choose? Why is it the man who always can do what he wants?’ Tears formed in her eyes. ‘Oh please grandmamma, please help me. Like those women who are Doctors. I want to explore before I settle and my life is not my own...Am I evil for wanting this?’ Sylvia tried to stay firm and say no. You are a woman, you should know your place, but as she saw the pleading in the girl’s eyes her heart melted. Yes, she was a battle axe to some but not when Sarah was concerned.
‘No my child. I feel you will do what you want to. I will not promise but I will speak to your father. But you must understand what you are in for. You need to know what your life will be hundreds of miles away from here. Learn what you have to do to survive as we will not be around to help you and what if something happens to Peter, you will be on your own, what then?’ Sarah thought about it for a few moments.
‘Grandmamma I will have to be prepared for that. I am sure I could cope.’ Sylvia stared at her for a few moments,
‘Yes my dear I think you will be fine. I will speak to your father.’ She smiled.
‘Oh thank you grandma I love you so much.’ Sarah could not stop a little sob that escaped her lips as a tear escaped her eye but slightly suspicious it was so easy. Daphne interrupted to give the older women a cup of tea, leaving Sarah pondering what to do next. She had to convince Peter to let her come and he may help her with her parents.
Sarah woke with a start. She was now hundreds of miles away. What if something did happen to Peter! Staring into the darkness terrified about the future, a few tears escaped her eyes. Tiredness took over and she slept only to wake tired and grumpy in the morning and was relieved they were to take another day’s rest, though it was not Sunday.
The three promised to attend Church Services, followed by lunch at the Ashtons. Once more, they experienced a pleasant time with the family. When it was all over, Thomas gave Andrew a letter of introduction to a Reverend Taylor at Whanganui. Bidding the Ashtons and their guest farewell, Sarah promised to write to Rachel and they walked slowly back to their hut.
They were on their way again at daybreak; the gear had been packed the night before. After a quick breakfast, the canoes were loaded and they set off. Peter announced he would go ahead in the first canoe to try and get shot further down river, thus leaving Sarah and Andrew together in the other. Andrew, being the gentleman he was, held her hand, helping her into the canoe. It was the second time he had touched her since the trip started, and again it sent a tingling feeling all over her. While Sarah was comfortable with Andrew near, touching was different matter and she could not understand the feelings this evoked in her.
The river flowed rapidly and the wind was strong making it hard to progress. A short distance downstream from the pa, they came across a place where a boys’ school was being built. Here the party stopped because Peter was told the trader was there. They located him and managed to get shot at 8d a pound, which was a good price.
The group journeyed on, passing a place called Pepe. It was a lovely spot covered with roses, acacias and other beautiful shrubs and fruit trees. The river seemed to go on for miles, winding its way through the countryside. Andrew noted it would have been quicker to go across land rather than down the river, but at least this way they were not walking.
Pulling up beside the river, lunch was in a native hut where they dined on fried bacon and sliced potatoes. The hut was surrounded by a fence which consisted of upright stakes of unequal lengths lashed with roots to a horizontal bar, making an excellent barrier for keeping out the wild pigs which were common in these parts. Every tenth fence post was higher than the rest, and was carved with human heads and bodies. Sarah thought they were to fend off evil spirits. She asked their guides but their English was not adequate.
Both Andrew and Peter shot several ducks and, as usual, a competition developed. You could guess who the better shot was but the men enjoyed the rivalry. Of course, Peter came in second but claimed that he was a weekend shooter only and not a professional like Andrew. Sarah smiled to herself, wanting to challenge Andrew but realised the new musket was too powerful for her and they would not let her anyway.
Back on board, they moved on. The wind dropped and making good time, they arrived at more deserted Maori huts. The huts were rundown and after closer inspection, riddled with fleas. It was better to sleep in their tents. The night was cooler than usual and Sarah felt it would rain which none of them were looking forward to
As on other nights, the trio sat around the fire, the guides at another. Generally, the Maori guides and porters kept to themselves. Andrew suggested it was best to respect their wishes. The men as usual smoked their pipes and Sarah tried to keep warm close to the fire as she watched and listened to the men talk. Peter asked Andrew about India and his experiences. Andrew spoke of Bombay, the crowds and individual people. After a while, Sarah excused herself.
‘Gentleman, I am going for a walk. Standing up, she brushed off her trousers then walked into the bush as Peter watched her depart.
‘And what about the women?’ he asked in a whisper. Andrew quietly replied back, occasionally glancing up in case Sarah returned.
‘The women are something else. There is a strict class distinction in place. Yer dare not break it. As far as women are concerned, their honour is closely guarded. I saw a young girl stoned to death because she breached the code. If yer do not belong to a family and have no one to look after yer, then it is different. Bombay being a busy port and with garrisons of men stationed there, many special women work there, if yer know what I mean. Not because they want to, the slave trade in women is rife. Women of all nationalities are put to work. Drugged out of their minds, the local establishment pretends to do something but does naught. There are places where the women make love to yer. They know how to stimulate yer to the edge, before reversing their roles and teach yer to make love to them. Encouraging yer to arouse them, by kissing and touching them all over. When I mean all over, everywhere. Their breasts, thighs and between their legs, showing yer how yer can stimulate them to give ultimate pleasure.’ Peter continued to listen to his companion and after a checking Sarah was not near, Andrew continued,
‘Unlike Europeans, they think it should be a two way thing, a lasting pleasure for both men and women. The men I know back home think women are there for their pleasure only.’
Peter thought to himself he was one of those men and felt quite guilty, as Andrew continued his story.
‘The common view is, if a woman enjoys sex she is a harlot, a whore. No good woman can possibly be allowed to enjoy themselves. It is all wrong. It is up to both man and woman to please each other. By using their hands, fingers and tongues, they can bring each other to a point of extreme pleasure. It is a good feeling when yer can give this enjoyment to a woman; it gives yer more pleasure to watch her coming to that point. Yer can both enjoy the experience together.’
‘I cannot imagine any European woman allowing you to do this.’
‘I do not know. As my sergeant used to say, a woman is like a gun. A gun, if yer treat it right and prime it, will always go off. A woman is the same, a little time, patience and plenty of priming, yer can do anything with her.’ Andrew laughed at the expression on Peter’s face.
‘Have you ever tried it out on an English woman?’
‘Oh aye, and I have never had any complaints, always compliments,’ Andrew laughed. Peter smiled thinking he would have to pick Andrews’s brain some more. He was about to speak again when they heard a noise, and looking up saw Sarah returning to the fire. She drew closer, holding out her hands to warm them. Turning around she positioned herself allowing her bottom to get the heat.
‘What on earth are you doing?’ Peter asked.
‘I am warming my posterior. It is all right for you two. You can go and that is it, but I have to expose more.’
‘Sarah, mother would have a fit if she heard you speaking like that.’ Peter sounded cross.
‘Yes, but mother is not here and you do say things are different in this country. I do not think mother would be in the middle of nowhere with six natives and two grown men, one of whom she has known for less than two weeks.’
‘Point taken, but I am still here to keep an eye on you. You behave yourself.’
‘Excuse me!’ Sarah sounded indignant.
‘I am your older brother, and you are my sister, so you do as you are told. Besides, I am the male of the family and you are the female. In this world males are the bosses.’ Peter smiled smugly knowing what she would say next.
Many a time the pair had argued about the unfairness between the sexes. Peter was a firm believer in keeping the status quo. However, he admitted to himself he had weakened in respect of Sarah or why else would she be here.
‘Peter, do not try that on me, that man versus woman nonsense,’
‘No. I suppose I better not or we will be here all night arguing. Pity the man who is willing to take you on, dear sister,’ he mocked her. Sarah glared at back, but she knew all too well it was a man’s world. He only hoped when she did marry it will not be abusive.
Glancing at Andrew, she could not tell what he was thinking. Sarah glowered at her brother and thought she had better drop the subject. Her eyes flicked once more towards Andrew, and feeling embarrassed and annoyed, she presumed Andrew would be thinking the same as Peter.
‘It is time for me to retire, if you two will excuse me.’
Andrew replied, nodding his head,
‘Aye, I think yer right lass, good night.’ Tapping the ash out of his pipe, he rolled over and settled down for the night. Hearing the exchange between brother and sister and seeing the look of determination in Sarah’s eyes, he reflected on what had been said. Yes, he felt a woman should have some say, but overall he agreed with Peter. Whether it was with an older male of the family or her husband, the woman should obey, without question. Sarah would be a handful for any man willing to marry her. She needed to come down off her pedestal but be encouraged to do so gently, in a way which would not destroy her. Special in many ways, her determination and inner strength would equal any man. Something about Sarah drew him towards her. Could he be the one to tame her? Maybe, maybe not. Time would tell. Thinking more about her, Andrew drifted into a restless night’s sleep.
Peter lay in his blanket thinking about his sister. After that display, Andrew would want to stay clear of her. He felt Andrew would not abuse his wife but would tenderly sway her to think as he. Smiling to himself he may have to find someone else to take her off his hands. Peter laughed at such evil thoughts. His mind turned to thinking about what Andrew had said about women. He’d had a few relationships but never been taught how to make love. It came naturally, didn’t it-or did it? The first time he did it, it was hit and miss. He was nervous and did not last long at all. The other times, to his shame, as soon as he was ready, he came. The thought of pleasing the woman was an alien concept. Maybe if George had not been killed, he may have been there to tell him a few things, and he could have taught him what to do. Mack’s obviously been taught well, he must enquire more. With that in mind, Peter rolled over and he too had an agitated night.
Dawn broke, with the sound of the early morning birdcalls echoing around the forest. Even with this lovely chorus, Peter got up in a bad mood but settled down as they continued to follow the course of the Waipa River. Eventually, they arrived at a place where it meandered for four miles. The direct road was only a quarter of a mile. They decided to get out of the canoes and walk. The gear was left in the canoes as the porters carried them over land. After an hour, they came across an old Maori man who wanted to sell them a pig. The men used this time to put down the canoes and rest. The old man first tried to sell them the pig for six shillings, then he came down to two but it was too thin and sickly. Peter declined it.
As the sun went down, darkness descended and the night felt colder than previously. A fire was lit in front of the tents. Sarah found a stone and put it at the side of the fire to heat up. Once it was warmed, she wrapped it in a small towel and placed it in her bed. The men gave her a hard time, but when the rain started and the temperature dropped again in the night, they were the fools now.
Rain was still falling in the morning. The tents kept the rain out at this stage but as Peter remarked, if it continued, they may not be as lucky. Continuing down the river, the current gradually increased and after an hour of paddling, Sarah thought her arms would break. Much to her relief, Andrew suggested the guides get out and tow the canoes. It was too shallow near the banks and they waded into the middle of the river, pulling the canoes downstream. The banks here were high and fern-clad, burnt in places, with few trees except tall dead pines. The party landed and noticed quantities of daisies; under the ferns on the banks, grew mint, wild cabbage and large quantities of docks.
They paused to rest. Of course, Sarah could not resist picking flowers, forming a little daisy chain. She smiled as she placed it around her head. It was too much for Andrew his body reacted to wanting to encase her in his arms holding her close. Annoyed with himself, he turned away to look at more of the scenery
The country between the hill and the river was level and covered with fern. It looked better land than most of what he saw under crop in Auckland. Andrew’s eyes slowly drifted back to Sarah. He watched her as she stretched her long slender neck, following its curve up to her chin, her lovely lips and to her beautiful brown eyes as they moved to see a black bird, which had landed and was preening itself on a branch above her. A few white feathers were under its beak and reminded Sarah of a church minister. Andrew cleared his throat.
‘It is what is called a tui or the parson bird.’ Sarah nodded and turned her head to smile at Andrew. Once more their gazes held for a short time, before Sarah’s nervousness got the better of her and she turned away, blushing as she did so. Andrew’s gaze remained on her for a short while before he too stirred to get back on the trail.
Continuing their journey, Andrew and Peter both agreed to halt at a settler’s house belonging to a man they had met at the Astons. He had extended an invitation for them to call. While the Maori guides preferred to stay outside, the others were met by his son. Michael, who was a tall teenager of about sixteen, appeared to be half-caste. He was a happy, intelligent boy. The lad explained his father had work to do and would be disappointed to miss them but he wanted them to feel welcome.
Michael cooked boiled potatoes, fried eggs and bacon with several small sponge-like cakes. He offered coffee after dinner; it reminded Andrew of burnt Indian corn, which in fact is what it was. The family used ground corn if coffee was not available. Peter glanced around the house, which was built of wood. It consisted of three rooms, the centre one being the combined kitchen, bedroom and dining room; the other two were used for storage. Andrew asked how long his father been in New Zealand. The boy replied for twenty-seven years in this area. Sarah hoped she would have a better house if she were here for that long.
Sunday once more a rest day. Andrew writing in his diary
Sunday 13th.A beautiful day after the rain last night. The Maori guides observe the Sabbath most religiously so far abstaining from work goes, However it is something we must respect.
Next morning leaving the settler’s house, they climbed into the canoes and continued down the river when the rain started once more. There were more rapids and the skill of the porters was invaluable as they guided and propelled the canoes though them. Rocks came up to meet them and on one occasion Sarah was sure they would be tipped out. The rain came down heavily and though Sarah wore her mackintosh, it was no protection from the driving rain. The river narrowed and the banks became high and steep; many pretty waterfalls tumbled over them. Rocks jutted out in places far across the stream. Three miles later, they arrived at the junction of the Motakurarua where another European settler lived. The settler’s occupation was to buy pork from the natives at 1½ pennies per pound, salt it, and sell it in Auckland for 1 shilling and 6 pence per lb. After purchasing pork, they travelled a short distance down the river and halted for the day.
In the clearing, there was a hut. It did not look too stable but with the rain coming down hard, they pitched the tents inside it on the earth floor.
Sarah awoke next morning to find her face and body bitten all over by mosquitoes and a small black fly, called a sand fly. Her right eye felt sore and the lid was swollen; the rest of her face felt itchy. Andrew took one look and laughed.
‘Like sister, like brother.’
‘What on earth are you talking about?’ She figured it out when Peter came over. He too was bitten above his right eye, it was swollen and sore looking and matched hers.
‘Sis, look at your face, you look like you have been in a fight.’
‘Look who is talking, you’re just as bad.’
Andrew dived into his kit, retrieved a packet of salts, and put a handful into cooled boiled water.
‘Here soak these handkerchiefs in this and place them on yer face and any other bites. It will help the pain and swelling.’
‘Why have you not been bitten?’ she asked.
‘Tough skin.’ Andrew replied with a smirk on his face. Sarah thought he appeared guilty and gave him a suspicious look, prompting him to say more.
‘Yer see I put lotion on my face before I went to bed. I got it from a Maori woman in Auckland. She said it was juice from the leaves and branches of a tree called the ngaio. I did not know whether it would work. It obviously does.’ Andrew continued to look at Sarah. ‘Come here lass, let me have a look.’ Her face was painful so she did not care he would be close. He wet the handkerchiefs and placing his hand under her chin tipped her face upwards, allowing him to see what he was doing. Sarah could not help but study his face. She felt his breath gently tickling her cheeks as he concentrated on her bites. It was a kind looking face but she had seen him angry for a short time and felt she ought not to cross him. He had too much experience dealing with men for someone to get the better of him.
Why did he upset her whenever they were close? He must think she is a spoilt brat because of the way she argued with Peter. She closed her eyes, and her skin stung for a few seconds, but then felt better. Sarah felt the pain in her eyelid subsiding as the swelling went down. Opening her eyes, they found themselves transfixed on each other. They breathed in unison, as their lips yearned to touch. Sarah felt an overwhelming need to lean towards him, as he moved his face closer. It was too much for her; as usual, she felt too uncomfortable and was the first to look away.
‘I have a bite on my leg as well. I can manage now, thank you Andrew.’ she said and took the cloth from his hand. Once more, she raised her face causing their eyes to meet and they held each other’s gaze for a moment. Sarah’s feeling flustered, once more forced her to look away.
‘Yer will have to repeat that tonight then hopefully it will be better tomorrow,’ he spoke quietly.
‘Thank you Doctor.’ For a few moments, she smiled then turned and moved away. Andrew watched her go, for a split second he wanted to kiss her; the feeling came from nowhere. He placed his hands on his hips and looked at the ground, kicking a stone, before collecting his things together and was pleased when they were once more on their way.
At this point, they left the canoes and took to the road, passing through a large paddock belonging to a Wesleyan mission station where lots of fat cattle, sheep and pigs grazed. After crossing the Waipa, they continued overland. The whole way was a succession of fern-clad downs with deep ravines with swampy creeks at the bottom of them. Passing a mountain on their left called Kakepuke at five p.m., they came to a place called Mohaonui, a large Maori settlement. Here they noticed an abundance of wheat grown near a local flourmill at which the natives worked.
The rain continued but, like the morning before, it stopped at lunchtime, much to everyone’s relief. Peter and Sarah’s bites had gone down, all except the one on Sarah’s leg which remained extremely itchy and swollen.
‘Andrew, have you got any more of those salts? My leg still needs bathing.’
‘The packet is in my kit.’ Sarah looked at his bag, not knowing if he wanted her to help herself or wait for him. Andrew glanced up to see her hesitating.
‘Help yerself, lass. It is on the left hand side of the bag.’ Sarah crouched down and opened it. Inside all the clothes were neatly rolled or folded and it was if everything had its place. ‘Must be because of years in the army,’ she concluded. Reaching in, she moved a few of the articles. Touching his things gave her a funny feeling, it was nice. She wanted to pick a piece up, cuddle and smell it. On locating the packet of salts, she stood up as Andrew came over.
‘Did yer find them?’
‘Yes, thank you, Andrew, they were right where you said they would be.’
Andrew stood holding a billy half full of water.
‘Here use this.’ He was about to hand the billy over, but stopped and placed it on the ground.
‘Let me have a look at yer leg.’ Sarah rolled up her trousers exposing a red abscess.
‘I think I must have scratched it in my sleep and it has got infected,’ she said. Andrew glanced at it for a few seconds, before gently touching around the wound as he examined it. Sarah put her hand out to stop him but changed her mind.
‘Wait here.’ Andrew went over to Kiriana. After a discussion, she looked in Sarah’s direction and nodded. Walking away from Andrew, she returned a few minutes later with a handful of bark. Kiriana scraped the surface of it and placed it into a bowl of water. Sarah asked which tree the bark was from.
‘We call it Pukatea. Stops pain and scratch,’ replied Kiriana in broken English. After a few minutes, Kiriana looked up at Andrew and made a gesture to him. Kiriana’s back was to Sarah and she did not see what Kiriana was doing. A few moments later, Kiriana and Andrew came over. He crouched down and held Sarah’s leg and spoke to her.
‘Kiriana will have to break the skin; it will hurt for a few moments.’
‘What!’ was all Sarah said before she felt the pressure of Andrew’s hand around her leg and a knife lancing her wound. A small cry followed as Kiriana did the deed. Sarah placed her hands on top of Andrew’s. He removed his from her leg and twisted his palms, so he could hold hers.
‘All done now lass.’ He gave her hands a reassuring squeeze before releasing them. Sarah took a few moments to compose herself as Kiriana took a piece of cloth, and dipped it in the lotion. Kiriana signalled to Sarah to place it on her wound. Hesitating, with shaking hands, she placed it over the laceration. It caused Sarah to wince as the liquid penetrated the open flesh. Tears formed in her eyes, but then the pain subsided. Andrew produced a roll of material and bandaged her wound. Occasionally, their eyes met and rested on each other, causing Sarah to tingle all over. Task completed, they then focused on their trip once more.
At the next settlement, the men tried to hire horses but the people wanted three pounds for each animal as far as Taupo. The natives described the road as very poor whereas the way to the Whanganui River was shorter and better. There was war between the Taupo tribes and Einyoa said they would not accompany them. As a result, the group decided to head for the Whanganui River.
It rained yet again, the road was good at least for the first few hours. They stopped for nourishment before setting out again. Before starting, a man on horseback passed them. Nuia said previously he was not too sure of the way after the next settlement, so Andrew asked the rider if he knew of any local guides. The gentleman offered to inquire further on and say they were coming. Sarah watched the conversation feeling tired but felt disappointed they were not travelling by horseback.
Further on, the country became hilly. The paths went straight over the top of the hills and consisted of slippery clay. Valleys were covered with pine forests and thick bush, which they had to force their way. Occasionally, the road travelled along the summit of the hills, and appeared to be level with the treetops.
About 4 o’clock, they came across a deep stream with a small, narrow, wooden bridge which was submerged two feet under the water. Sarah felt her calf sting as she forded the cold stream. Her back and feet ached and desperately she hoped the group would stop, but they kept going.
Part of the way was now dense forest and deep mud. Everyone had difficulty in pushing their way through the undergrowth. Finally, Andrew called a halt to the day’s travelling, and at last they could relax with a mug of tea, food and sleep.
It rained all night but cleared in the morning. Sarah, who did not mind the sound of rain on the tent at the beginning of the trip, now disliked its pattering intensely. It had rained for days it seemed, and mud was everywhere and as she walked, her feet sunk into it and stuck. Extra effort was required to pull them out and then repeat the exercise with the next step.
Everything was soaked, nothing was spared. Sarah hoped the articles she had wrapped in wax paper were dry, but there was no time to check now. Her bedclothes seemed to be permanently damp and she spent restless nights unable to get to sleep and when she did, it was time to get up in no time. On waking in the morning she felt as though she had not slept at all. Her back ached as it had the previous night before, but her bite felt much better and the swelling had gone.
It was not until eight o’clock when the first step was made on the next day’s journey. After a short time, they came across a small village where they met the rider from the day before. He informed them a guide had come in and wanted one pound and ten shillings to take them to the Whanganui River, but Peter managed to get him down to fifteen shillings plus ten pieces of tobacco.
Sarah noticed a good deal of wheat around but no mill. A Maori gentleman told her the wheat was loaded onto boats and then shipped up stream to the other mill. They did this by either towing or using long poles to move the boats upstream. At this point Nuia was paid and said his goodbyes, disappearing in the direction from which they had just come.
Once more, their porters eyed the new man with suspicion. This time, they preferred to keep their distance from him and hardly a word was spoken between them.
The rain had returned once more. Dense forest and more mud.
‘Oh what a surprise,’ Sarah thought as yet again she had to help her trapped foot out of the mud. Here they halted on top of a ridge for breath and enjoying a fine view of the country. Looking back, the lower ground was bare, while the surrounding hills were covered with forest. The hill they had ascended was a steep slope of mud and tangled roots with numerous dead trees lying across the path. Everyone in the party had found it hard going. Each step had been an effort. Sarah noticed Andrew limping and as they paused, she saw he could not stand on his left leg. She wanted to speak to him about it, but thought better of it. Andrew’s limping increased; it appeared that his knee was giving him a lot of pain but at least the rain had stopped.
The greater part of the road was over a forest covered mountain. The path was slippery, requiring all to use both hands and feet to make any progress. Tall fern trees were blown across their path by the wind which slowed their progress. On reaching the top, it was becoming dark so they made camp.
Sarah pitched her tent and went into the bush to go to the toilet. On the way back, she collected two rocks, one to warm up her bed, the other for Andrew who may like to have it for his painful knee. She thought of Andrew. He was not all that bad but something told her to be wary of him. Occasionally, she felt a feeling of warmth coming from him. Remembering when he called her Sarah for the first time, she smiled, but a gesture or a funny look made her rethink and her sense of coldness returned. By the time she got back, dinner was ready. Placing the rocks into the fire, Sarah sat down to eat and afterwards the three sat around the fire, men with their pipes and Sarah looking into the flames, sipping her tea.
From time to time, they heard the guides whispering around their camp fire but they too, were unusually quiet. Sarah sat staring into the fire, until the odd gust of wind blew smoke into her face, causing her to cough. Using her hand she tried to fan it away from her face, but without success. This annoyance did not seem to matter as the fire was wonderfully warm as the flames danced across her face. Her eyes felt heavy she would close them for a minute. Peter glanced up at his sister and gave Andrew a nudge; Sarah sat with her mug in her hand, elbow on her knee sound asleep. Reaching over, he took the mug from her.
‘Bed for you, Sis.’ Sarah stirred sleepily.
‘Oh, Oh, I suppose so. Good night to you all.’ Slowly she dragged her tired body up and headed for her tent.
‘What about your rock?’ Peter called out.
‘Um, I am too tired to get it. Oh Andrew, I have put a rock in for you, you may like it for your knee. Goodnight to you all.’ Sarah entered her tent and slipped between her blankets. A few minutes later, a hot rock wrapped up in a towel was placed in her bed, but Sarah was unaware, as she was fast asleep.