Sarah smelt smoke through the canvas of the tent as she stirred next morning. She felt she had only just closed her eyes. Every part of her body ached. On hearing the familiar sound of Peter’s and Andrew’s voices, the crackling of the fire and the noise of utensils banging together, made her aware it really was time to get up and resigned herself to the fact. Throwing off her blankets, she placed her second layer of socks on over the top of the ones she had worn to bed. She usually slept with at least one pair on as her feet got cold at night. Sarah noticed the rock and smiled, wondering who placed it there. Once ready, she came out of her tent.
Something was not right. There was no deafening birdsong like there was on other mornings. It was still, with no wind, no sounds at all. The Maori guides appeared to be preoccupied and distracted, talking a lot between themselves. Sarah heard a rumbling sound coming closer and closer; soon the noise became deafening. As this happened, the earth began to shake and Sarah found it hard to keep her balance. Everything around them shook violently. Glancing over to where Andrew and Peter were she saw Peter holding onto his walking stick to stop himself from falling over as he tipped his head back and looked at the trees above him. The leaves floated down on top of the people below. As quickly as it had come, the shaking stopped until another intense jolt nearly knocked Sarah off her feet. Again everything was quiet, then slowly the birds’ calls returned and the voices of the guides were heard.
Sarah was stunned, and stood glued to the spot.
‘Are you all right, Sarah?’ Peter inquired.
‘What on earth was that?’ she asked. Andrew spoke.
‘Welcome to New Zealand. That was an earthquake. The first of many yer may feel while yer here. New Zealand is renowned for them, especially in this area. Do not be surprised if we have aftershocks.’
‘Thanks professor,’ Sarah replied. ‘What have I let myself in for.’ Sarah thought.
After breakfast, they broke camp and were once more on their way. Sarah was waiting for an aftershock, which thank goodness never came. Soon, they found their way into the Mokau valley. This took longer than usual because they had to climb over several fresh slips which Peter presumed were caused by the earthquake. On meeting an old native and his wife, they stopped for a few minutes to talk. He gave the guides some pork which he previously killed in the bush. Einyoa thanked him as the troop set off after their employers.
It was difficult going; the hills were perpendicular in places. Sarah found it hard as her bag dug into her back, causing a raw area. Her teeth hurt as she drew the chilly air into her lungs, which felt as if they may burst any moment. Her chest hurt as well, restricting her breathing. Her throat was dry and the muscles on the back of her legs and calves ached terribly. She stumbled as she reached the top of the hill and to prevent herself from falling she reached out and accidentally grabbed onto Andrew. He winced and closed his eyes as he was forced to bear her weight on his bad knee.
‘Sorry Andrew, are you all right?’ she asked.
‘Yes, yes, fine, stop fussing women. It is just a little twinge.’
‘You are not a good liar,’ she looked at him and refused to avert her eyes. ‘Let me have a look at that knee.’ Sarah paused, out of breath.
‘Oh, all right. I’ll drop my trousers.’ He glanced at her, waiting for her shocked reaction.
‘I do not think that will upset me. Now get on with it.’ Though he was sore, he saw the humorous side of her giving him an order. He looked around and on finding a tree stump sat down. Taking his boot off, he slipped out of his trousers and rolled up his long johns. The knee was swollen, the skin looked tight and was hot to touch. It was red and bruised looking. Sarah examined the leg and noticed two large scars, a small indentation on the right hand side of his calf; a larger one practically opposite the first one on the inner side the lower leg. The muscle looked slightly wasted and finding she could not help herself, placed her fingers on one of the scars. She touched them gently and traced the path of what she realised was an old bullet wound. Andrew looked down, watching her every move feeling nervous about reaction, but did not need to be. This woman was not repulsed by what she saw; in fact, she touched the scars without fear.
‘I got them in India. A bullet. The smaller scar is where it went in; the larger one where it came out.’ Sarah was snapped back to reality, slightly embarrassed at being so forward.
‘Sorry, Andrew,’ she paused. ‘Peter pass me the whisky you have in your kit!’
‘What! wasting good whisky!’ Peter said in an amused tone but from the look his sister gave him, he knew he had said the wrong thing. Peter handed the bottle of alcohol to her, allowing her to apply it to Andrews’s knee. Kiriana came over and examined it too, grunted and went back to her kit. The knee was strapped enabling Andrew to still bend it.
‘You can put your trousers on now. Would you like to rest here for a while?’
‘No, let us keep going. It will be fine,’ he said quietly.
Onwards and upwards again went the party, slower than usual now, not only because of Andrew’s knee, but because they were all tired and it was heavy going. Entering another valley, the group travelled about a mile then over another steep hill. Descending slowly, entering a forest after which they crossed a swampy valley, arriving at the Mapara River at 11o’clock.
After a short rest, the exhausted troop progressed upwards again through a forest-clad hill, halting at the top for a rest. Sarah sat on a tree stump and looked at the scene. There was a magnificent view of the valley beyond. The Ongarue River, which joins the Whanganui, could be seen. Looking back, normally the view would be wonderful but because of the effort in getting there, it was wasted on the group. The others considered a well-earned rest was now in order.
The Maoris busied themselves with cooking, roasting the potatoes on sticks like kebabs. While these were cooling, they spent their time roasting and eating seeds about the size of an almond, which were strewn on the ground in great numbers. Andrew was not his normal self, he usually helped set up camp but instead sat quietly beside the fire. Peter saw his companion was in pain. Placing several potatoes on a plate and with mug of manuka tea in the other hand, Peter brought his meal over.
‘How is the knee, Mack?’
‘A bit painful but it will be all right for a couple of more miles.’ He winced as he went to move it. ‘The natives tell me that there is an Irishman’s hut up ahead, so we can stop there. I should not say ‘Irishman;’ the natives use that term for a Maori Roman Catholic. We may be able to get potatoes and we are nearly out of tea and pork.’ Andrew paused before continuing. ‘I must admit I am looking forward to tomorrow. Thank goodness for Sundays.’ He paused once more ‘How is Sarah? She looked exhausted earlier.’
‘She is all right. Seems to have got a second wind. I took several items out of her pack without her knowing it. I had to laugh when she made the comment that she must be getting fitter as her kit felt lighter.’ Both men smiled.
‘Here, have these.’ Peter handed Andrew the potatoes and drink.
‘Thanks, old chap.’ Andrew replied in his half Scot, half-English accent.
After an hour they were off, the rain started again and the party put on their mackintoshes. Sarah found walking in her coat cumbersome but at least it kept her a little dry. The rain seemed to be able to penetrate every piece of clothing. Her hat was soaked and felt heavy and was tight around her forehead. Her trousers slapped against her legs as she went.
The march was both laborious and painful for some. The greater part of the road went through forest-covered mountains which decreased the slipperiness of the mud. However, elsewhere the path was slippery and where there were no trees, they used both hands and feet to get up the slopes. Tall ferns towered above them, a number were twenty-five feet high; others had been blown across the path by the wind, thus impeding their progress.
Peter was walking ahead of Sarah, when he slipped, falling onto his back. As if in slow motion, he slipped over the edge of a bank. He seemed to be there one minute and then gone the next. Sarah yelled for Andrew as Peter disappeared from view. They heard Peter’s voice fading as he slid feet first on his backside down the bank. He felt pain as the bushes scratched his back, and as branches slapped and scratched him as he passed. A branch then stopped him catching between his legs, crushing his important parts. The pain was excruciating, knocking the breath out of him. It took a few moments before he could move, shifting his weight off his crotch as a piece of the branch dug into him, causing a deep gash in the top of his inner thigh.
‘Ooooooh Shhhhhit!’ was all they heard, then silence. Sarah was slightly surprised at hearing the profanity.
‘Peter!’ called out Andrew. ‘Are yer all right?’ They looked over the edge but could only see dense vegetation. Peter called up to them,
‘Yesss, hmm, I am fine but I will need a rope.’ They heard him take a big breath as he tried to release the pressure between his legs. Andrew took off his pack and retrieved a long rope from its side. Matiu gestured for Andrew to place the rope around the one of the guide’s waist and then loop the other end around a tree. The other men arrived and took the loose end of the rope. The tension was taken up as they lowered Matiu down the bank; he disappeared down into the bush.
‘Stop!’ came Peter’s voice. A few moments later they heard him once more. ‘Haul away!’
The men tightened their muscles as they pulled the rope back up the hill and pulled the two men up. On reaching the top, Sarah grabbed at Peter, helping him over the top. A breathless Peter thanked the men for their help.
‘Are you all right?’ Sarah asked in a frightened voice.
‘Yes, Sarah, I am fine now. Please turn around as I need to check something.’ Sarah stared back strangely as he indicated with his hand to turn.
‘I need to take my trousers off.’ He snapped irritably
‘Oh, oh...’ she turned as Peter, with shaking hands, undid his belt and dropped his trousers. Andrew came over to check on him.
‘What is up?’
‘Let me say a branch ended up too close to a certain part of me. I would rather it had not.’ Andrew saw blood seeping through onto Peter’s long johns at the top of his inner thigh.
‘Yer have to undo yer buttons.’ At first, Peter paused then exposed the area. He checked the area before covering his privates with his hand. He tried to see the damage but was unable to.
‘You will have to take a look. I cannot see.’ he said, still breathless.
‘Sit down.’ Peter sat and parted his legs. Andrew saw a gash at the edge of his groin. ‘Wait there.’
Sarah became impatient
‘Can I turn around?’
‘No!’ came the reply from both men. Andrew retrieved his first aid kit, cleaned and dressed the wound.
‘Yer were lucky not to need stitches. Yer can get dressed.’ Peter carefully readjusted himself and dressed. He was uncomfortable, but did not wish to complain.
‘Where is the wound?’ Sarah asked.
‘Never you mind,’ replied her brother but Sarah guessed as she saw the way he walked. Gear was swung on their backs and with extra padding between the pack and her skin, they moved slowly towards their next base.
Coming to the Irishman’s hut, they found he was not at home. The guides searched for potatoes which they soon found. At the clearing other natives informed Andrew that the Irishman was at his other residence further down the road. They would pay for the potatoes as they went past.
The hut was open so the party spent the night in it. As it was only one room, Sarah tried to keep her distance from the men. Tentatively, she positioned her blankets. The strange feeling returned with being close to Andrew. Sometimes she imagined herself in his arms and other times she wanted to hit him. Regardless of her bedding feeling slightly damp, she snuggled into her blankets and in no time was fast asleep.
Two days later, it was Sunday, a day of rest. It had rained yet again during the night but it was now a fine day with a gentle breeze. The Maoris gabbling their Church of England prayers woke Sarah once more. Like every Sabbath, it was a day of rest, so everyone could relax. Sarah’s bedding still felt damp, as did her clothes. Every part of her body ached but she was more concerned with Andrew’s knee and Peter’s wound than her own aches and pains. Not wanting to seem too concerned about Andrew, she first asked Peter how his wound was.
‘Andrew checked it this morning.’ She came closer.
‘Where is it?’
‘Somewhere a woman like you should not be concerned about until she is wed.’
‘Oh, all right. Fair enough.’ she said, changing the subject. ‘How is Andrew’s knee?’ she asked, but before he replied they were interrupted by Kiriana. In her hands were various leaves that looked as though they had been boiled, then put onto a cloth. The smell was not too pleasant. She held the cloth out towards Sarah for her to take and pointed to Andrew and then to his knee.
‘You want me to put it on to his knee?’ The woman nodded in agreement. Sarah glanced at Peter.
‘Mack has nothing to lose and it may help.’ Sarah approached Andrew.
‘What have yer got there?’
‘One of the guides, Kiriana, thought that this may help.’
‘What is it? It smells terrible?’
‘I do not know, it is for your knee. Let me have a look at it.’
Andrew slipped his trouser leg off and rolled up his long johns. Removing the bandage, she saw the knee was less swollen, but still looked discoloured and sore. Gently, she placed the poultice on his knee and re-badged it. Andrew could not help but look at Sarah. A stubborn woman, he knew it was not worth arguing with her. It was easier to give in, and as he was too sore and tired, he did not care.
As usual, when the dressing was completed, their eyes met and, as usual, she looked away. She did not know why she felt embarrassed. Why did she keep avoiding his stare every time he looked at her? He must think she was stupid. This idea was to niggle at her as the day went on.
On the contrary, Andrew considered it was endearing how, when he looked in her direction, she blushed and glanced at something else. He decided to have some fun with her. Much to Sarah’s relief Peter came over to join them.
‘Have you got something for the pain, Andrew?’ Peter asked.
‘Yes, I took something earlier. How about you?’
‘I am fine.’
‘I think I will do naught for now.’
‘Good idea, I think I will join you. Do you want your pipe?’
‘That sounds just what the doctor ordered. How much tobacco do we have left?’
‘Enough to last to Petre.’ The two men settled down in front of the fire for a day of relaxation and talk. Sarah left them to it. She could not understand what the two talked about all the time. The men were forming a good friendship and they did not need her around. A tinge of jealousy ripped through her. With the men on her mind, Sarah made herself busy.
As it was a good day for drying, Sarah constructed a clothesline and hung up all the wet things to dry. Placing the last blanket on the line, she looked into the distance. The sky went from a bright blue to white as it faded to the horizon. Smoke rose from the mountains. Ruapehu was in the distance, covered with snow with the volcano expelling its heat in clouds of grey at the same time. Seeing the snow brought back memories of home, a large warm fire, plenty of food. As she stood leaning against a tree, tears flowed down her checks. She continued to stare into space, as the memories flooded back. A sand fly tickled her face, and using her hand to wave the small creature away, she came back to reality. Turning her attention to the rest of her gear, she emptied her kit and noticed that there were several things missing. After double-checking, Sarah went over to Peter.
‘I seem to have misplaced some gear.’ Peter appeared guilty.
‘Hmm... well, yer see Sis, I took some out and put it in mine.’ For a few seconds, she considered it was nice of him until she saw a smile on Andrews’s face, which annoyed her.
‘Thanks Peter, but I can carry my own gear.’ She collected her things from his pack and repacked her own pack. Brushing the hair from her eyes, she noticed it felt tangled and full of knots. It was due for a good brush. Collecting her brush, she sat down in front of the fire to get rid of the knots.
It was November the 20th, they had been travelling for twenty days. Peter and Andrew talked about the next stage of their journey. Sarah missed other female company, but was content to listen to the men. Andrew watched Sarah as she methodically tried to rid of the knots in her hair. The pain in Andrew’s knee eased and he enjoyed smoking his pipe, the good male company and, across from him, a beautiful woman. Beautiful and a handful. He smiled as he watched her pulling faces as she tried to remove a stubborn knot. Occasionally, she looked comical as she tugged at the strands. At one point, she had trouble with a particular knot and asked Peter to help. She positioned herself between her brother’s legs as he tried to remove the knot. Peter raised his eyes and did not miss the way Andrew observed his sister.
‘Steady on, Peter,’ she protested as he pulled hard.
‘Stop wriggling and do not lean back.’ Peter pulled at the brush, forcing her head backwards and up. Her face pointed to the sky, as with eyes closed Sarah soaked up the sunshine. Andrew’s gaze followed the line of her neck as it tapered downwards to the top of her breasts. Her hands rested on the ground slightly behind her, forcing her breasts to become prominent and her erect nipples to stick out. He was jealous of Peter; he wanted to be the one brushing her hair. He wanted to kiss that neck as well as other things. If he wanted a woman, he regarded Sarah could be one for him. Thinking it over he realised he could not become involved with anyone at this moment; it was out of the question. He had too much to do without the complications of a woman and must keep his mind on other things. Sarah was a travelling companion, no more. Andrew was forced to look elsewhere. Trying to change his thoughts, he stared into the fire, looking at nothing at all but fighting the turmoil now spinning in his brain.
It was a warm night and it was no longer raining. The guides slept that night around the fire while the Europeans had the hut. Sarah woke in the early hours of the morning, something had disturbed her and her feet were freezing. She glanced around and noticed Andrew was not in his bed. She turned over and tried to get back to sleep but something else made her uncomfortable. A few moments later, she realised that if she did not go to the toilet, there may be an accident. Carefully extracting herself from the blankets, trying not to disturb the snoring Peter, she headed to the bush hoping she would not meet Andrew. After completing her task, she was about to enter the clearing in front of the hut when she heard a quiet giggle coming from around the fire. Sarah pulled back a fern branch to investigate. To her dismay Rangi and Kiriana were making love. She had to walk past them to get to the hut and there was no other way around. Not wanting to disturb the couple, she will stay where she was, until they were finished.
Glancing back at the pair, knowing it was wrong to watch, but thinking that the way they made love was beautiful. They did not care about the people who slept beside them but concentrated on pleasing each other. Out in the open and without inhibitions, they did what all couples in love did. Her mother made sex sound awful, not at all pleasurable for the woman but as Sarah watched, she saw they both gave to each other.
Rangi kissed Kiriana on her lips and face, slowly moving down to her breasts and nipples, kissing and caressing them. Lower, he moved until he was completely under the blanket. He was doing something that was giving her extreme enjoyment. Rangi’s head popped out from the blanket to kiss her once more on the lips. Sarah heard a noise behind her and turning, looked up into the face of Andrew, blushing as she did so.
‘Oh, Andrew you startled me!’ she whispered, a guilty expression on her face. He was close, so close she smelt his masculine aroma sending shivers of excitement up her spine.
‘Not wanting to go back to bed, Sarah?’
‘Yes.’ Sarah paused, ‘I mean no, Rangi and Kiriana are... are.’ Sarah nodded her head in the direction of the camp. She felt herself blush and was pleased it was dark. Andrew reached across her shoulder and pulled the fern back. He too saw what was happening and smiled as he watched for a few moments, then looked down at Sarah.
Sarah did not know what to say or do. Andrew glanced back at the pair; he saw how affectionate they were with each other. He had heard both Maori men and woman were skilled lovers; they knew how to please each other, treating lovemaking as an art, a thing to be enjoyed. It was not like the Europeans who believed in pleasure for the man only.
Andrew lowered his gaze down to Sarah once more, feeling sorry for her. Her mother would have told her to fear sex, it was for the pleasure of the man and a duty all married women endured. Sarah continued to feel uncomfortable; she looked down at the ground, blushing once more. Andrew trying to change the subject, asked:
‘Are yer finding the trip difficult?’
‘No, not really,’ she lied. Taking a deep breath, she brought her head up and looked into his eyes. ‘But I must admit it will be nice to be in a bed again and have a bath.’ She did not want him to think she was an immature female embarrassed by what she saw. She swallowed hard.
‘Can we go back yet?’ she asked in a quiet voice. Andrew smiled, and glanced up at the couple.
‘No, not at the moment.’
She wanted to look, but did not dare. The warmth of his body and the scent of his body continued to tickle her nose. With a rush of excitement, a pleasurable sensation flowed between her legs; her nipples tingled and a flush caught her off guard. Feeling flustered and confused as once more Andrew’s arm brushed her shoulder as he looked at the pair. Andrew watched for a few moments, as the couple appeared to come to a climax. One last kiss between them and they relaxed and settled to go to sleep.
‘They are finished. It is safe to go back.’ He rubbed her arm as if to reassure her. Sarah sighed, turned and walked back to the hut, her eyes fixed straight ahead to make sure she did not look at the couple. Andrew followed and looked in the direction of the pair. Rangi glanced up and both men smiled a knowing smile and nodded at each other as Andrew passed. Rangi pulled Kiriana closer and gave her a kiss on the forehead, and then he too settled down to sleep.
In the hut Andrew slipped between his blankets. He glanced across at Sarah and at the same moment, she looked up. Once more their eyes met, then closing them, they both tried to sleep. Sarah could not get the picture of the two enjoying themselves out of her mind; it was lovely and beautiful the way they made love. She remembered the sensations as once more her nipples tightened. She dismissed her mother’s opinions and could only hope one day she may have the exact same pleasure with the man she loved, one who was as kind and gentle as Rangi was with his wife. Her mind went back to Andrew once more and dreaming pleasant dreams, she slept.
The next day Sarah felt slightly uncomfortable with Andrew, but as the morning progressed, she told herself to get over it. By the time they were off at six o’clock, she felt fine. They had to climb again, which definitely took her mind of the incident. They crossed the Ongaruhe, Waimeha and Mura Mura streams, and the Wairua River three times each. The streams eventually flowed into the Whanganui. After climbing several steep hills, they came across the rural residence of the ‘Irishman’ to whom they introduced themselves and paid for the potatoes. Dining on cold pork and potatoes, Sarah began to think she would turn into a potato if any more passed her lips, but at least they were filling.
Through dense fern-clad bush, they descended into a valley, travelling along a riverbed. At 4 o’clock they camped on the side of the stream, opposite a curious castle like rock which towered above them. The sound of a waterfall was heard in the background and the occasional birdcall made the spot a pleasant place to be. The country here was volcanic and the banks where the soil was exposed seemed to be pumice and ash. In the distance steam was rising through the bush, giving the impression of several forest fires but without the smell of smoke. Instead the smell of sulphur hung in the air.
With soap and a towel, Sarah made her way to the river. Aroha ran up beside her, taking her hand and beckoning to her to come with her. Sarah glanced at Peter, then Andrew, who both shrugged their shoulders and gestured for her to go. She allowed Aroha to lead her and they were joined by Kiriana.
Entering the bush, the three women travelled along a well-worn path. Sarah heard the sound of rushing water coming closer and closer. The air became damp, with a smell that she had never encountered before. It was strong, but not over powering. In a clearing, was a large pool with a beautiful waterfall. Surrounded by lush green vegetation and ferns, the pool looked inviting.
The water was clear and clean with a slight mist rising from the surface. The other two women took off their clothes. Their long black hair and youthful firm brown bodies glistened in the sun. Entering the pool, the two splashed each other and laughed. Both women appeared to be enjoying the feel of the water, not at all embarrassed by their nakedness. Occasionally, they would stop to beckon to Sarah, but she refused their invitation. She had never bathed naked with anyone else before and never in the open air, but the water looked wonderful. Bending down, she scooped the water up in her hand. It was warm and it was inviting her to enter. She threw down her towel and slowly disrobed and timidly entered the soothing water. Her skin stung especially her arms and face which had been continually bombarded by sand flies. But soon the pain eased. The Maori women watched, noting Sarah’s body was as youthful as theirs. A few minutes later, the pair got out of the pool, dressed and turned to walk back along the path, leaving Sarah alone to enjoy the warmth and tranquillity of the moment.
Back at camp, the men finished setting up their tents, Andrew excused himself and walked into the bush, found a spot and finished his task. He heard voices, and looking up, he caught glimpses of Kiriana and Aroha returning along the path. He waited a few minutes but saw no sign of Sarah. Slightly concerned, he retraced the women’s steps. The air was warm and musty after the rain, not like India, which had been hot, with a dry kind of heat. The air here was pleasant. Birdsong could be heard and, in the distance, the sound of water rushing over stones. Andrew came to a clearing, but before entering, he paused. In the water, waist deep was Sarah.
She was beautiful. Her long brown hair fell over her softly, covering her breasts. She reached up and pulled her hair off her face and chest, flicking it behind her shoulders. Cupping her hands, Sarah scooped up water and poured it over her face as she gazed up at the sun. It reminded Andrew of the day Peter had brushed her hair. Sarah’s body was exposed, her full round breasts glistened in the light as the water flowed down over her body. Andrew found it hard to look away. He knew he should not be looking. Sarah lay back and floated on the pool as she enjoyed the warmth of the water. Andrew’s heart sped up, there was pressure in his chest and another part of his anatomy stirred. Pausing for a few more moments for a last lingering memory, he adjusted himself, and walked back along the path.
Andrew felt aroused, and beginning to feel unsettled again. This woman was slowly creeping into his heart, placid one minute, and stubborn and determined the next. Why was he irritated by her, then excited by her the next? Sarah was not like any other woman he had met at home or in India. Those women were straight laced and would not dare to question their fathers or husbands. The officers’ wives entertained and did their husbands’ bidding. All the younger girls were whisked off to boarding school as soon as they were old enough. Half of him respected Sarah for travelling with them, the other half felt she may become a burden. Yet his body yearned for her to be close to him and he wanted to make love to her. He longed to place his lips on her nipples, to lick and suckle them but also to taste her between her legs where only a husband should go. He paused, as another part of him knew he had too much to do to get involved with anyone. It would make things too complicated. However, he could not get the picture of her in the pool out of his mind as he made his way, slowly, back to the camp.
Sarah returned later feeling refreshed and informed the men about the pool, so after tea the men also had a swim. The night had cooled and there seemed to be fewer sand-flies about which made it pleasant. Feeling relaxed and tired, all sat around the fire in their bed rolls. Peter and Andrew smoked their pipes, as Andrew stared into the fire trying not to raise his eyes to see the flames flickering on the faces of his companions and Sarah smiling slightly, as she too enjoyed looking into the flames. Andrew remembered the sight of Sarah in the water and the thoughts he had had about her. The feeling of uneasiness returned, and he had to force himself to concentrate on his plan. Knocking his pipe out, his eyes glanced once more into the flames, and they danced mockingly as he was sure he could see a naked woman in them. Sleep came slowly as he lay there restlessly thinking of Sarah.
All had a good night’s sleep, but it took them longer to get themselves ready and they finally started late at half-past six. The road lead down the valley, crossed over a stream twice and then over numerous swamps. Andrew seemed to be in a bad mood, he hardly spoke to Peter and only to Sarah when it was necessary. Andrew was annoyed his knee was playing up but what disturbed him most was the feelings he had for this woman. He had not planned on this; he had to control himself. Therefore, he felt irritable and as the day wore on, he became annoyed with Sarah. Maybe if he did not get too close to her again, these feelings would go away. Nevertheless, a voice nagging in the back of his mind told him he was losing the battle.
‘Come on lass, get a move on!’ Andrew snapped at one point. Sarah looked at him with a stern expression on her face and then glanced at Peter, who shrugged. What’s got into him? Sarah though as she found it hard to keep up, but was not holding the group back. They continued to walk, Andrew was picking on her and giving her orders. She in turn decided to dig at him. The Maori guides noted the continual bickering between them. Then Sarah slipped and fell, slightly twisting her ankle. She winced and cried out in pain, as Peter rushed to help her.
‘Wait a minute, Andrew, Sarah’s gone over!’
‘What a surprise, Sarah again.’ Andrew knew deep down that she did not deserve his rudeness, but he could not help himself.
‘What do you mean by that comment?’ Sarah was angry.
‘I think we should break for lunch. We were not going to stop until we got to the river, but if we have to, we will rest now. I did say it will be difficult, she should nae have come in the first place. I knew this would happen.’ Sarah glared at Andrew.
‘Andrew, will you shut up! You have been niggling at me all day.’ She was angry and did not care if she offended him. Struggling to stand, she came face to chest with Andrew. Placing her hands on her hips, she raised herself up to her full height. With this, Andrew was still several inches taller than she.
‘I do not care what you say, I am not one of your army batmen that you can order around. I can walk; do not stop on my account. Excuse me, I am going on, you can stay here if you want.’ With this she pushed Andrew out of her way and trying not to limp, she followed the others. Andrew watched her go and spoke,
‘Has yer sister always been so, what is the word...?’
‘Stubborn. Always, always, I guess we better follow her.’ Peter tried not to laugh as he looked at Andrew, who had a surprised yet amused expression on his face.
‘I knew I would nae get any support from yer.’ he said. Peter laughed as Andrew turned to walk after her, trying not to limp himself. As they walked, Peter continued talking to Andrew.
‘I would give up if I were you. She is determined to do this and, knowing my sister, she will not give up without a fight and I think you are her opponent. I have been trying to train her for years in more placid, womanly ways, but it has not worked so far.’ Andrew watched Sarah hobbling on without complaint.
Arriving at their next destination, the guides set to work stripping flax and using a gimlet to construct two canoes for the next leg of their journey. Made of two boards laced on either side of a slightly hollowed out tree trunk, the canoes were larger and more stable. While the guides worked, Sarah put a pot of potatoes on to cook. Along with the tea and salt, they had brought from Auckland, the potatoes were all they had left. Sarah went in search of puha, a green vegetable Kiriana had earlier indicated was edible.
A sound drew her attention to a group of Maori men, women and children, with their collection of dogs and pigs. The group commenced to prepare a meal for themselves by digging a hole in the ground, about two feet by one and a half. Into it was placed a number of stones; a fire was then lit on top. After a while, the residue from the fire was cleared away, leaving hot stones. Grass and vegetables were placed on top. Over these, the potatoes and meat were heaped and covered with old wet mats. Water was poured over the whole thing causing a plume of steam to rise from the hot stones. This soon cooked the food and after an hour it was lifted from the pit.
Peter took the opportunity to try to buy a pig from them, but they could not agree on a price. They did manage, however, to secure a few vegetables.
Sarah’s ankle was sore and while they waited, she made her way to the river, and lowered her feet into the clear, cool water. It felt wonderful as the water rushed over her ankle and soon the pain subsided. Peter came and sat down next to his sister.
Sarah could not resist questioning him.
‘Why is Andrew so annoyed? He seems to be picking on me all the time for no reason. I wish he would stop.’
‘I do not know what his problem is but we have a long way to go. Could you make an effort to be more pleasant? ’
‘Me! Unpleasant! He is the one being irritating.’
‘Oh come on, you have been bitching about him all the time.’
‘Only because he has been picking on me.’
‘Sis, please, for the sake of peace hold your tongue.’ Peter looked at her with an exaggerated pleading look on his face, his bottom lip sticking out. Sarah took one look at him and laughed.
‘That look may work with mother but forget it with me. It does not work.’
‘Oh, Sarah, please.’
‘Oh all right I will try.’ Peter gave his sister a peck on the forehead.
‘Do you need a bandage for your ankle?’
‘No, I already have one. You go back and keep that man out of my hair.’
Peter rose and walked back towards Andrew.
There was something happening between those two. It could be either love or hate, but Peter had a feeling this could be love. Only time would tell. He found Andrew sitting down, his arm resting on his bent knee, his sore leg stretched out straight in front. He was looking out over the river; in his hand was a blade of dry grass, which on occasions he would put in his mouth.
‘You all right, Mack?’ Peter asked.
‘Yes, fine, why do yer ask?’
‘You seem to be distracted and out of sorts with us, particularly Sarah.’
‘I suppose yer right. I have been giving her a hard time. My leg is giving me problems.’
‘Something up with you two?’
‘Whatever do yer mean?’
‘Oh I do not know, a feeling I have got.’
‘Do not be absurd, nothing at all. What gave yer that idea?’
‘Oh, nothing.’
‘Stop being the protective brother. Yer have nothing to fear with me, that I promise yer. I would never do anything to put yer sister in danger both physically and socially. If yer know what I mean?’
‘Hmm, I know. If something were to happen to me, there needs to be someone else to look out for her.’ Andrew turned and looked at his companion who was now his friend.
‘Nothing is going to happen to yer and if it did, yer do not have to ask me to look after her. I can put her on the next boat home, kicking and screaming like a banshee.’ Peter laughed as he pictured his sister being manhandled onto a boat.
Andrew looked back at the river, and wishing to change the subject, he said:
‘Hey, that looks a good idea.’ Andrew was looking at the men bathing.
‘Shall we join them?’
‘Why not.’ Both men went towards the water.
As Sarah soaked her feet, several Maori men came down to the river for a swim. Disrobing, they threw their clothes onto the rocks and dived into the river, frolicking naked in the water. Within a short time, the children also joined in. Feeling envious, Sarah watched them enjoying themselves. While the Maori men bathed, Sarah felt slightly embarrassed and went to retrieve her bandage from her kit, and her washing. Throwing several articles into the water, she commenced scrubbing her clothes. Picking up a shirt, she stood to wring the water out. Looking up, to her dismay, she saw Peter and Andrew stripping off to join the others in the water. She had only ever seen her brother naked from the waist up and there he was, as naked as the day he was born.
Peter, accompanied by Andrew, was on his way to the river. She did not know where to look at first, but something was now making her stare. As they entered the water, she looked first at Peter, then at Andrew. Andrew was tall and lean but his body was strong, her eyes moved down his back. Something caught her eye; on the left hand side, by his shoulder, was a large scar. Sarah could not take her eyes off it, and then the men turned to face her. Andrew stood facing her, his loins barely covered by the water, his hands above his head, washing his hair. Another scar was etched into his chest, situated on his left shoulder, smaller than the one on his back, but still noticeable. A bullet must have gone right through, from the front of his shoulder to the back. It was like the one in his leg. Further down, across his abdomen yet another scar was etched into his skin.
Sarah’s heart sank, she felt sick. Oh Andrew, what has happened to you? She looked at the stamps of violence that forever were a reminder of his past. She wanted to touch them, to kiss them away, to kiss the memories from his mind and his body. Her heart pounded as she tried to imagine how he had acquired them. The idea of a bullet ripping through his flesh made her feel ill. The knife or sabre cutting into him also made her shiver. Tears formed in her eyes. ‘Why am I so emotional about this man? He does not care for me, these last days proved that.’ She may have to be resigned to the fact that here was a one-way affair. She would never feel his arms about her, holding, loving her. He would never confide the secrets of his past and reveal his future dreams. Sarah was thrust back from her thoughts as several Maori women came down to the water’s edge to watch the men.
It was obvious the women were particularly interested in the white men, giggling and pointing at the them. Sarah noticed Andrew looking at her. She met his stare and did not look away for a few moments and began to feel angry. Maybe it was because she got caught watching the men or was it because of Andrew’s scars. She did not know. She did not dare look up again; her face was hot and red. Not wanting anyone to see the tears that were in her eyes, she continued to look down.
‘This man is always doing something to annoy me, and I am sure it is deliberate. They did not need to strip right in front of me; they could have gone around the other bend.’ With that, Sarah’s washing got an extra beating on the rocks.
After the men had bathed and dressed, they did some washing for themselves, placing the articles on the rocks to dry. Lunch went quietly, except for Sarah chastising Peter when they had a moment alone. Peter considered she had overreacted and told her not to be so upset.
‘We had a wash. I do not think our bodies were any different from the native men. Stop being on the offensive all the time. We are not in England now.’ Sarah’s ire rose.
‘I noticed you had a good look.’ Peter said, with a smirk on his face which irritated her even more.
‘I did not! How dare you suggest it.’ Peter’s lips tightened together and a sight smirk crossed his face. ‘But I suppose you are right. You do what you have to do over here.’ Sarah sighed and lay back on the grass, and placing her hands under her head, she closed her eyes. She felt the warmth of the sun on her face, and tears escaped from her eyes, trickling down towards her ears. They tickled, and wiping them away, a few seconds later, she was asleep. She did not hear Peter move away and it was some time later before she awoke when she felt the warmth disappear from her face. Opening her eyes, she saw the shadow of a man with a hat on, standing over her.
‘What is it Peter? Time to go?’
‘Yes lass, it is, yer go into the first canoe with Peter and I will be in the second one.’ Andrew stood over her. He had been there for some time. Her face was beautiful. He looked at her neck and her breasts and her nipples, as they stuck out through the material of her blouse. She looked peaceful so he did not want to disturb her. Andrew admitted he enjoyed the sight before his eyes and closed his eyes as his feelings pulled him in all directions. When he opened them again, Sarah was staring up at him.
‘Here, I will give yer a hand.’ He stretched out his arm towards her.
‘No, thank you, Andrew, I am fine.’ Sarah got up and made her way to the canoes. ‘Damn it, why did I not let him help me.’ Andrew withdrew his arm and placed his hands on his hips. He stood for a few moments shaking his head, then turned and joined the others.
The river was shallow and rapid; the canoes were guided using poles, with the guides ready to jump out and shove the canoes over the shallower places. After a junction, the river was larger and rapid. The canoes floated well. The high banks were fern-clad and some had collapsed exposing pumice and ash. Sarah noticed the riverbed was composed of small round coloured stones, obviously through years of being worn down. At four o’clock, they entered the Whanganui River. Peter and Andrew went to have a go at shooting pigeons. This soon turned into a competition between the two men. Of course Andrew won, with Peter, as usual, complaining. At six birds to two, there was no dispute about who was the better marksman. Andrew confessed he regarded the birds as stupid, as in spite of being shot at, they would only fly a short way away and land still within range.
They continued on their journey until dark and halted in a clearing at the side of the river. Dining on two of the pigeons, potatoes and vegetables, was a pleasant change; anything would have been wonderful as long as it was not pork.
With the canoes packed early the next morning, everyone was on board and on the water by 6 o’clock. The river flowed between high banks which were clad in bush. The current picked up speed and Andrew’s canoe, while shooting a tremendous rapid, was grounded on a large stone. Sarah looked back, expecting to see the canoe turn over, but the men rescued it without damage. She felt frightened for Andrew, even though he would not have cared if he was caught. The water became smooth again and the canoes glided along, with the boatmen singing their songs. Sarah was pondering when a roar was heard ahead. The boatmen’s songs ceased, and they stood up with a great deal of talking and pointing at the river ahead. Sarah glanced at Peter as the canoes picked up speed and they began to glide down a glass-like stretch of water, sweeping along noiselessly with lightning speed.
The guides seemed to have an idea which course to steer and sitting down again, paddled for dear life. The canoes shot down at a fearful rate; in a moment, they dashed through the broken water along the small passages between the large stones. Sarah held on for her life, the water splashing in her eyes. Unable to let go to wipe her face, she found it hard to breathe and to see due to the water spray. Closing her eyes tight and clenching her teeth, she was frightened the canoes would burst apart. Her knuckles were white, as they held onto the side of the canoe, and her heart pounded and she wanted to be sick.
Sometimes the men paddled across the current and it seemed at other times the canoes would be dashed against large stones. The guides worked hard and managed to propel the canoes with great skill. It seemed to go on forever, but it in fact it was only minutes later that they were in smooth water again with the roaring of the water behind them. Sarah looked as white as a sheet. Her face was taut and she bit her lip to stop it from shaking.
‘Sis, that was a bit of excitement! You all right?’
‘Fine, thanks. That was fun. Can we do it again?’ Sarah spoke sarcastically. Her fingers and arms ached from holding on to the canoe. Taking a big breath, she released her hands from the sides of the boat. Pretending nothing was wrong, she gazed around.
The tranquillity of the scenery calmed her, enabling her to enjoy the view of the high mountains, covered with tall, graceful pines with creeping plants hanging between them. This created a dense wood of many different colours with a feathery fern tree here and there, poking its delicate head up above the smaller shrubs. At the water’s edge, there were no bushes, the soil was hidden by long palm-like ferns which over-lapped each other. No bare earth was seen.
The rapid stream and fast plunging paddles had hurried the canoes along. As they rounded the corners of the river, the scenery appeared the same, serene and beautiful. Sarah stopped paddling for a short time and lay back against Peter, dragging her hand in the water as they went along.
Andrew, on seeing her leaning against Peter, felt a tinge of jealously, wanting too to feel the warmth of her body on him.
At nine a.m., they passed the village of Terukura and soon afterwards came to a set of waterfalls which dropped several feet. The travellers stopped before the first fall, baggage was taken out of the canoes and each canoe was lowered down the steepest drop with a rope attached to the stern. Once lowered, the boatmen got into the canoes and paddled off down the remaining falls, much to the admiration of the watchers. The men seemed to enjoy themselves as yells of delight could be heard as they shot down the rapids. Back on board again, they passed the junction of the Ohura River, which falls into the Whanganui from a height of about twenty feet. It was a beautiful sight, the water forming a thin spray as it hit the bottom, making their clothes damp. Here was another village and they pulled in for an hour to bargain for potatoes. The man wanted four pieces of tobacco for a kit; Andrew managed to get him to take two.
Gliding through the water, Sarah was once more allowed to rest and lie back, her hand dipping into the water as she leaned against her brother’s legs. The banks were nearly perpendicular, some seemed a thousand feet high and covered with bush right down to the water’s edge. Looking forwards, it seemed there was no opening but soon they were on a mountain bound lake.
The canoes travelled at good speed and it felt as if they were sailing downhill. In front, the water appeared to vanish into the mountain but the canoes were propelled around a sharp bend and then on downstream. At dark, they came upon a small village on the left bank. Andrew, after a great deal of bargaining, managed to get a pig for a pound. He said they should have got it for ten shillings but because a white man cheated the chap when he sold him one for five, he would not take anything less for it. Rangi and Matiu killed and butchered the animal with amazing skill and both Peter and Andrew agreed to give them the head and forequarters. All dined on fried pig’s liver, potatoes and vegetables which were filling. Retiring to their blankets, they all slept well.
Andrew appeared to be in a good mood, as he had been ever since they had embarked at half-past six after a breakfast of pork chops. Sarah felt less defensive and more relaxed around Andrew once more. The sounds around them were lovely. Birds were singing, making the forest echo with their songs. The banks of the river were much like yesterday but the rain arrived at eleven and by four they halted at a wattle and daub house, which belonged to a European pork salter. The hut was locked but a salt shed was nearby. On inspection it was free of fleas and sand flies, so they decided to use it for the night.
Sarah was once more worried about sharing the accommodation. She felt uncomfortable, not with the idea of being close to Andrew, but the opposite. Fighting her feelings, she positioned herself on the other side of the hut away from both Peter and Andrew. This did not go unnoticed by the men and Peter took the opportunity to whisper to her:
‘As long as I am between you and him, there is no reason to go over the other side of the room.’
‘I know, but it is not the right thing to be so close,’ came Sarah’s tart reply.
The rain was heavy at times and she moved closer to the men as the rain came through the walls. Sarah’s bedding felt damp and she was chilled in the morning. On rising, she shook due to the cold, her breath was seen on the early morning air as she breathed out and blew on her hands, trying to warm them up. Adding more wood on the fire, it burst into flames. Warm at last.
Two days later, it was fine as they embarked once again on the canoe journey, passing a village called Pikiriki, a beautiful spot with patches of wheat sown around it. They noticed many canoes drawn up on the bank and in the distance a large church. As they proceeded, many native villages went by all with substantial churches built of boards and shingles.
‘Sarah, look at that.’ Peter pointed downstream. Several canoes were drawing close. In one, there was a cow lashed to a board, mooing loudly. It was an extraordinary sight and the cow did not appear to be too happy about it. All found the scene amusing as they reached the end of their day’s travel, at a place called Whunimiti.
On landing, a distinguished looking man came and shook hands. His face was completely covered with tattoos. He wore a cape covered in feathers and appeared to be held in high esteem by the other Maoris. Their guides rubbed noses with him but they did not speak. Their natives appeared to be uneasy, and the younger ones in particular appeared slightly afraid. Natives appeared from nowhere and soon there were a great number, looking and pointing at the party. After setting up camp, they relaxed as best they could around the fire. Instead of sitting away from their European travellers, the Maori guides and porters joined them. Sarah noticed Andrew, Peter and Einyoa seemed to be on alert all through the meal, looking about at the others and then back to the surrounding Maoris. Sarah at first was worried but later dismissed the notion of danger as she knew they could move on if there was a problem.
After the meal, Einyoa spoke with urgency to Andrew and Peter. Both men nodded at whatever he said. Sarah, unable to hear, stood up to stretch her legs, and went to move away from the fire, when she heard Andrew’s voice:
‘Stay close to the fire, Sarah.’ Peter looked up at Andrew, then Sarah,
‘I am fine. I just want to stretch my legs. I need to...’ She pointed to the bush.
‘That may be so, but wait for Peter.’ Andrew added. Sarah pretended not to hear.
‘Sarah!’ Andrew sounded cross and stood up. Sarah was annoyed at the tone of his voice and ignored him once more and continued to walk away from the fire.
She had not gone too far when she was surrounded by Maori women, all talking fast in their native tongue. She became frightened, especially when they touched her and tried to stretch herself up to see where the men were, but realised she was cut off. Her heart sped up, sweat poured down her back as in her panic her chest hurt. The women offered her goods to trade. Sarah shook her head and saying no, indicating with her hands she had nothing to offer. They took no notice and became irritated. A woman pushed her, then another. Sarah felt pain as their hands hit and pinched her skin. One tugged at her clothes and pulled her hair. Then an arm grabbed her around her waist, pulling her backwards. She was about to scream when she heard Andrew’s voice close to her ear:
‘Shh! Sarah, it is all right. Do as I say. We are going to move back slowly to the camp fire.’ His voice was calm and reassuring, but forceful. Looking up, she saw Andrew as he stared back at the natives. His face was expressionless as he pulled her closer to his body, his arm tight around her waist as if to shield her from them. In his other hand, Andrew held his rifle, holding it in a nonthreatening manner down by his side, but with his finger on the trigger. As he extracted her from the crowd, the Maoris backed away slowly. Sarah smelt him, felt the warmth of his body and muscular arms around her and heard his heart pounding in his chest. She began to feel safer, but it was not over yet.
‘Here, Peter, take her and get her into the canoe!’ Andrew released her and gently pushed her in Peter’s direction. At first, Sarah did not want to let him go, holding on to his arm stretched across her body.
‘Go to Peter, Sarah, now!’ His voice was firm and controlled, and she realised she must go. Peter appeared angry with her as he took her hand none too gently and pulled her towards the canoes. The guides had already packed the gear and when Peter and Sarah were on board, they hastily pushed off and out into the river. Sarah glanced back and saw that Andrew, his face, slightly red with anger was also in his canoe and heading to safety. Andrew was annoyed but relieved the situation had not got out of control. Sarah shook uncontrollably, as Peter leant forward and placing his hand on her arm spoke:
‘You’re safe now, take a big breath. We will be fine.’ Sarah glanced back at him; Peter smiled, but shook his head in irritation. He, too, was very angry at her but also relieved that Andrew had been there. With his army training, he had assessed the situation and without hesitation, had Sarah in his arms before Peter knew what was happening. He hoped his sister had learnt a valuable lesson, and would do what she has been asked straight away next time.
In the distance, she saw the crowd standing on the river’s edge, angry, shouting and shaking their fists. They did not appear to be going for their canoes to follow them and Sarah was thankful when they disappeared from sight as the canoes rounded a bend.
The noise faded as the group paddled downstream for a while. She recalled Andrews’s strong arm around her, holding her close, protecting her from harm. Her heart quickened with the thought of what could have happened. Her chest was tight, butterflies in her stomach turned summersaults and then she vomited over the side of the boat. Peter and Andrew’s gazes met in silence.
By the time they had found another place to halt, it was dark. The tents were erected but were soon filled with hundreds of sand-flies and mosquitoes. The trio put on the sand-fly repellent, hoping it would stop them from being eaten alive. Firewood was scarce and they used the wood they had purchased previously to light a fire. At the clearing was a small group of Maoris, but they kept to themselves and their Maoris did not speak to them, preferring to keep their distance. Sarah was not hungry, and as she recalled what had happened, she shook and felt sick.
‘What had made the Maoris so angry?’ Sarah asked as she stoked the fire.
‘I do not know, perhaps they wanted to trade with us and as we had nothing, they became upset.’ Peter whispered. ‘I do not know, one sister may have gone a long way.’ Peter teased, but Andrew did not smile.
‘I heard that, Peter!’ Sarah said crossly and gave him one of her glares, neither Andrew nor Peter could resist a smile.
‘It was worth a thought.’ Peter’s expression changed. ‘You did not do as you were told. You deliberately ignored Andrew. Now go and get some water, I will speak to you later.’ Sarah was angry and embarrassed by the way her brother had spoken to her-it was if she were a child. Typical of Peter, trying to be the dominant one. She stared at him then at Andrew, who was sticking the metal poles in the ground, deliberately not looking at her. Snatching up the billy, she headed for the river. She sat down on the sand and cried, only returning later once she was composed. Peter was about to comment on her being so long, saw she was upset, and let her be.
Everything appeared peaceful and calm as the group settled down for the night. After dinner, Andrew stood leaning against a tree, staring out into the river, as he packed his pipe with tobacco, then lit it. Listening to the trickle of the water and the odd cry of the morepork, Sarah timidly approached him.
‘I would like to thank you for what you did back there.’ He continued to look out over the river, took the pipe from his mouth and expelling smoke he spoke:
‘It was no problem. Einyoa was not happy and suspected that something was not right. We were expecting trouble.’
She placed her hand on his arm. He felt her touch and continued to look at the pipe in his hand as she spoke:
‘Once again, thank you. You did try to warn me.’ Placing a hand on top of hers, he turned to her.
‘And you being yerself, Sarah, took no notice.’ Sarah shrugged her shoulders and hung her head. She felt herself going red. In a subtle way, he had told her off. She wanted to pull her hand away but he held it firmly under his. He paused before speaking again. ‘Scary wasn’t it?’ Sarah nodded and looked up at Andrew’s face.
‘Yes, it was.’
‘It could have really turned nasty, yer know.’ Sarah nodded.
Andrew wanted to pick up her hand and kiss it and to hold her in his arms as he had done hours before, but this was not the time. He wanted to tell her it did not matter, but it did. He was angry; she had ignored him earlier, placing everyone at risk. He would have given one of his subordinates time in the brig for what she had done. She would have to be less defensive and more open to her male companions’ advice. Sarah realised that Andrew’s hand was still on top of hers, rubbing his hand back and forward across the top of hers. She tried to pull it away again, but he still held it firm.
Looking up into his eyes, his face showed no expression. He wanted to cuddle her, but he also wanted to slap her.
‘Next time, it may pay yer to listen to someone who is much older and wiser than yer.’ Sarah stared back. Andrew smiled. She pulled her hand away with a false smile. Sarah felt a flash of anger, but stayed calm.
‘I suppose because you are male, you think you are automatically wiser.’
‘I feel we have a bit more experience than yer, don’t you agree? Next time Peter or I tell yer to do something, yer better take notice.’
‘Perhaps I will and then again, I might not.’ she said sarcastically. Her anger rose, especially after she saw the broad smile on his face, but it soon disappeared.
‘I have seen men whipped for less.’ Sarah’s heart jumped.
‘Have you ever ordered a man whipped?’ He wished she had not asked this question, but he was not going to lie.
‘I have ordered a few.’ He stared back.
‘Oh, oh,’ she said. ‘Have you ever...?’
‘Me! No, I have not personally held the whip.’ She did not know what to think.
‘I suppose we should get some sleep?’
‘Aye, I suppose we should.’ Andrew repeated her words. She turned to go but Andrew grabbed her arm, gently pulling her in front of him.
‘Next time, yer will do as yer told,’ his voice was firm. ‘Do yer understand?’ She did not reply, but looked up into his face. His lips were tight together but his eyes said something else. Sarah was confused. ‘Do yer understand?’ he repeated. She nodded. ‘If yer do not, Peter will put yer on the first boat home and I will help him.’ Still she did not say anything as tears began to form. How can they bully her like this? Andrew sighed, his face looked calm once more, and he smiled.
‘Now lass.’ He let go of her hand and rubbed her arm up and down, as if to reassure her. ‘You go and get some sleep and we will start afresh in the morn.’ She nodded, swallowed and turned to go to bed. Andrew watched her go. Smoking his pipe, he considered how much she affected him. He wanted to give her a good telling off, but the moment they touched, he knew that he could not.
Sunday was a rest day and because of the rain, though they were only a day away from Whanganui, they decided to remain where they were. The other party of Maoris left, leaving them on their own. The rain was heavy and came through the calico tent like a mist. The wind changed and as the front of the tent was open, the wind whipped in. The guides cut ferns, and making a frame of long tea tree sticks, they soon had a wall put up, which effectively kept out the wet. Peter noticed the day before that Andrew and Sarah had been having words and by the expression on his sister’s face, he knew Andrew had got the better of her. Sarah was still irritated with Andrew and it did not help when Peter asked:
‘Did Andrew speak to you last night?’
‘You know he did.’
‘No one can tell you anything, can they, Sarah? I hope you learnt something yesterday about listening to what people tell you. I will put you on the next boat home if you do not do as you are told. If Andrew or I tell you to do something, you are to do it.’
‘What else have you two decided about me?’
‘Nothing, but we have a long way to go and, quite frankly, I prefer to have Andrew beside me than you. Start to behave yourself, do as you are told, or you will feel my hand on your bum.’
‘You would not dare?’
‘I would and the way Andrew is feeling at the moment, he would hold you down while I did it or else dear sister, actually do it himself,’ he said as he leant forward only inches from her face.
‘Oh, do shut up, Peter!’ Sarah stormed away into the bush. Maybe he had held the soldiers down while they were whipped too.
That night the group did not sleep well, as it was day light at four o’clock. They broke camp early and made their way down to the river. The guides were particularly keen to get on their way. Sarah felt they just wanted to finish the trip and head for home. She remembered both Andrew’s and Peter’s comments about putting her on a boat back home, and maybe the men were right. As the day went on her mood changed from ‘I should go’, to ‘no way are those men telling me what to do.’
The river had risen considerably since Saturday, and the force of the current made it difficult to pack the canoes. Sarah was busy adjusting gear and was concentrating on what she was doing, when there was a shout.
‘Look out!’ Looking up, she saw a large log bearing down on the canoe. She tried to get out of the way, but too late. The log hit the side of the boat. The canoe jolted, causing her to fall backwards hitting her shoulder on the edge and then she fell on to the wooden seat. A sharp needle like pain cut into her skin. Slightly stunned, she felt the hands of Rangi lifting her up. Wincing slightly, she examined her shoulder.
‘Sarah, are you all right?’ called out Peter.
‘Yes, I am fine.’ She lied. Sarah rolled her shoulder around, straightened herself up and took her place in the canoe. Her lower back remained sore, but her shoulder hurt more, especially every time she dug the oar into the stream. Her anger towards the men disappeared with so much pain, but nevertheless, she did not complain and concentrated on the task at hand. Andrew glanced over at her in concern. He saw she was uncomfortable. Her skin was pale and she had not said anything since the incident in the morning but she obviously did not want anyone’s help.
Turning away, he tried to take his mind off her by looking around at the scenery. He noticed the banks bare of trees sloping gradually down to the water. They passed a mill and several European dwellings which were generally small, wretched looking huts. The river was wide and deep. The flow was swift and it took all their strength to keep the canoes away from the river banks. They seem to have been paddling for hours when, without warning, they rounded a bend and saw Whanganui, or what was called Petre by the settlers, in the distance.