Saturday 4th December arrived. Gerald Tucker smiled when he set eyes on Sarah. He had been warned a European woman was with them. Expecting her to be dressed in a gown, he was surprised to see she was clad in men’s clothes. ‘Quite a good looker, with a figure to match, not bad,’ he thought.
‘Good morning, Mr. Tucker,’ Andrew said. Sarah nodded as they were introduced. Andrew saw Peter signalling him. Sarah glanced at her brother before turning her attention back to Gerald and her pack.
‘Morning mam.’ Gerald said, as he tipped his hat. Sarah glanced at the man in front of her. He was about the same height as her, with thick, black, dirty looking hair, escaping from under his hat. His chin supported several days of growth, and he was badly in need of a shave and both he and his clothes were in need of a wash. Gerald’s dark penetrating eyes seemed to be undressing her as she shook his hand. Sarah looked away and stooped to picked up her pack, slinging it onto her back like an old pro, adjusting it as she did so.
‘Let me help you.’ He offered as his hands grabbed the pack, and came to rest on her hips, pausing somewhat too long. Sarah spun around sharply, nearly knocking him over with her bag. The look in her face told him he should not try that again. Andrew noticed what was happening and was about to intervene, when Peter grabbed his arm.
‘Leave her, she will be fine, let it be, we need this man. We better make sure he does not have the opportunity to do it again.’ Peter knew she could fend for herself if she had to, but there was no doubt they had better keep a watchful eye on Mr. Tucker. Without him as a guide it would mean further delays. Andrew knew Peter was right, they needed this person, so sighing he returned to preparing for the task ahead. His concern now was to protect Sarah.
Starting at eight, they made good time. Peter was fuming about Gerald. At one point Peter dropped back to walk along side of him.
‘If you touch my sister again, I will break every bone in your body.’ As he finished, Peter picked up his pace and went ahead to walk with Sarah. Gerald was irritated but he knew he had better watch himself.
At about eleven o’clock, they arrived at Captain Cameron’s house. Andrew had met the captain at the dance in Whanganui and he had insisted they come and stay. His house was situated on a small hill, surrounded by fields of grain with bush behind it. The whole area was encircled by two lakes with only a small area of land between the two. They crossed one of the lakes in a small canoe only big enough to take two at a time. The four ate lunch with the Captain. He spoke highly of the whole country around this area but it was all taken up as most was extremely good agricultural land. After a pleasant lunch, they returned across the lake and were once more on their way.
Passing a number of low, rolling, fern clad hills and areas of flax and toitoi, an hour later, they arrived at Turakina and crossed, knee deep in swamp and grass, to visit Mr. Jack Wilson, who was a manager of a sheep farm. Shearing was taking place of about fifteen hundred fine woollen sheep. Jack greeted them, informing them that the sheep were worth about four pounds per head. Once at his house, Sarah noticed though it was a large, it lacked a lot of things. ‘It obviously needs a woman’s touch.’ she thought, as the men talked about farming. To entertain herself, she imagined what she would do if she became mistress there. She would add bits and pieces here and there, such as curtains and mats. She pictured her piano up against the wall and the tablecloth she had made on a table with a vase of flowers on top.
Jack showed them his garden which was situated on the bank of a lagoon. With vines, roses, and a splash of other flowers, it was a lovely garden.
The group dined and afterwards were joined by the shearers; several men eyed Sarah suspiciously. It was like this wherever she went. The moment they realised she was a woman, they treated her with importance. It was noticeable on this occasion and she stayed close to both Andrew or Peter. The men in turn realised her discomfort and when it was time to retire, they offered to sleep outside her room, but when Sarah insisted they slept on the floor, the pair did not argue.
It was Sunday, and the party had been going to stay, but Sarah was not happy and hinted that they should move on. With no guides, the trio would hit the road in the morning with Gerald in the morning.
Five o’clock came and Sarah was woken by Peter, feeling she had not slept at all. After breakfast they were on their way again and Sarah perked up. Jack’s son, Tim, a boy of fifteen, joined them. Mounted on a mule, he travelled with them for the first five miles as they followed the river to the beach. The animal continually brayed as its owner whacked its rump with a stick. Again, a lot of toitoi, flax and bush, surrounded them as they followed the beach line. The boy left them at this point, reminding them of his father’s wish that if they travelled back this way, they must call in on them again. Further on, Andrew promised to visit a cousin of a friend in Australia when they stopped for lunch.
The meal completed, the party walked along the beach. Sarah found it heavy going and was pleased when Peter called a halt. Andrew noticed several ducks nearby and managed to get two. When the fire was lit, Sarah sat down to peel potatoes; all at once two ducks were tossed into her lap.
‘Here lass, yer turn to pluck these.’ said Andrew.
Sarah was horrified, she looked up from the direction the voice came, and saw Andrew with a smile on his face.
‘What, me, pluck them?’
‘How else are we going to get them ready for our dinner?’ Sarah remembered that all the birds they had eaten previously had been placed on the open flame, feathers and all. The cooking had burnt the feathers off, leaving the flesh exposed.
‘Why do we not burn them in the fire?’
‘Peter said he wanted a stew.’
‘I...what?’ Peter asked, as he looked at Andrew, who raised his eye brows. ‘Oh yes, I’d like a stew tonight thanks Sis.’
Sarah inhaled deeply staring at Andrew through narrowed eyes, before closing them and sighing. Opening her eyes, she looked at the birds and was convinced one of them was looking back. Grabbing the first bird, she screwed up her face. ‘Better get on with it.’ When she finished the first one, she asked Peter to pass her a pot to put the now naked bird into it.
‘I do not have to gut it, do I?’
‘No, yer can do that next time,’ replied Andrew.
She looked at the second bird, reached down to pick it up when the bird’s eyes opened, and it flapped is wings. Sarah’s arms went up to her face as she tried to shield herself from the bird’s wings. Feathers and fluff flew in all directions. She felt she was being attacked, and letting out a yell, she fell backwards over the log. Meanwhile, the bird took off, quacking loudly as it could. As the dust settled, Sarah was left sitting on the ground her, body was supported by her arms and her legs were still on the log, sticking up in the air. Feathers were everywhere. One had somehow got into her mouth and she tried to spit it out, causing a roar of laughter from the men. First embarrassed and then angry, she looked at the men and wanted to cry, but she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.
‘Well, there goes dinner!’ shouted Peter.
All the men received a cross look. Picking herself up, she dusted herself off and disappeared into the bush with the men’s laughter following behind her.
Sarah was still not talking to them the next morning, and both men exchanged glances when Sarah grunted a reply to her brother.
‘Bitchy, are we?’ Peter asked.
‘Be quiet Peter, I hope you both enjoyed your little bit of fun.’ With that comment, she gave Peter and Andrew another one of her looks.
The day only got worse, as walking along the beach was harder than yesterday. As the tide was up, they had no choice but to walk on the dry sand. Their feet continually sank into it, making it slippery and they were forced to use extra effort to move. Sarah noticed that Andrew found it hard going with his bad knee. Normally they talked, but because it was difficult to walk in the sand, all their energy was zapped.
From the mouth of a river, it was a monotonous and uninteresting walk. Sarah thought they would never get to the end of the day and, after seventeen miles, her wish was finally granted and Mr. Scott’s Public house came into view. Sitting down on the stairs of the house, she was now too exhausted to be grumpy and as Peter walked past her she said:
‘You check us in, Peter, I am going to empty my boots of sand.’ As Andrew went past, he playfully pulled her hat down over her face and rested his hand on her head for a few moments. Sarah glanced up at him as she moved it back off her eyes, in time to see Andrew wink as he went into the inn. Smiling, Sarah proceeded to remove her socks.
The beds were comfortable with clean sheets, and Sarah sunk into her bed hoping no one would wake her until late the next morning. Waking from a lovely dream, she dragged herself out of bed, dressed and made her way to breakfast.
There she came across two men who they had met at the Whanganui races, but they had horses and they soon departed. Sarah imagined running up and pulling one of the men off his horse, jumping up and being well on her way before anyone realised what was happening. She was brought back to reality by Peter asking her to hasten.
By this time it was seven o’clock. It was a fine cool day and as they made good progress they arrived at the Manawhatu River by twelve. Here they rested for an hour and a half, feasting on bread and butter from the Maori ferryman who charged then a shilling to get across the river. A good deal of rain had fallen and the river was high and a heavy swell left them soaked.
Arriving exhausted at six at Otaki, the men admitted it had been hard going walking through the sand. Andrew noted that it was much more laborious than walking through the bush as the use of certain muscles made it more fatiguing. He made his point as he patted his buttocks and rubbed his lower back. His limp had also reappeared but when Sarah inquired about it, he said it was fine.
It had taken them nine and a half-hours, excluding the one and half hours at the ferryman’s, to cover thirty miles. At this point, Gerald departed their company, much to Sarah’s relief. She had felt uncomfortable with him and always noted where he was as every time she looked up, he was staring at her. Before he departed Gerald gave Andrew a rough map to follow but said the roads were well marked with plenty of inns on the way.
As Turner had said the inn they arrived at was not bad. The landlord here was a rope maker, and while waiting for breakfast they went to see the rope makers at work. Workers put three threads in a strand and three strands in a rope. It took three hours to make one, not including the first step when the flax is cleaned and then scraped. They used to use shells but now used iron hoops. The flax was rinsed and then made into ropes. Andrew had a good conversation with the landlord about flax and rope making. New Zealand rope had a bad name because other people made an inferior product and sold it unseen to middlemen; it was then sent overseas. The landlord was expecting a patent machine from England and after this arrived, no one else would be able to compete with him.
After leaving Otaki, their path today was along the beach and at two o’clock they halted at a place where police had been formerly stationed. There were horses for sale but after looking at them Andrew passed on them as they were unkempt looking and not worth the money.
Arriving at Paekakariki before sunset, the inn there did not look much from the outside, but inside the food was decent, the bread not stale, butter not rancid, and the potatoes fresh. There was no accommodation available so they continued to walk a further five miles. Climbing up from the beach, it was a gradual ascent to the top of the coast range. The road was fairly good, as roads go, but it was heavy going. Sarah was exhausted by the time they reached the summit. At the top there was medium size bank leading over to the edge of the hill. Sarah slipped but a protective arm shot down towards her.
She grabbed hold as told and felt herself pulled up the bank towards the top. Looking up, she expected to see Peter’s and not Andrews’s face. Their eyes met for a brief second; Sarah was too exhausted to look away. He smiled, his eyes lighting up as he saw her. Again, the uncomfortable embarrassed feeling returned as with the colour rising in her face, she thanked him and stood up on the ridge.
At last, they reached the top of Pukerua Bay Hill; the evening was calm and they camped off the road in a sheltered tree area. The country was pretty; the wooded hills sloped down to a bay called Porirua, with arms of land forming many pretty bays. There were many houses and huts, and a good deal of clear land about, which detracted from the scene. But it was still a lovely view.
Camp was set up, and the three sat and ate the last of the pork and potatoes. With the meal finished, Peter went off to get more firewood. Out of the stillness, Peter’s voice could be heard.
‘Come and have a look at this!’
Andrew and Sarah followed his voice up a small track to the edge of a cliff. The sun was setting before them. A bright yellow and red glow bathed the sea and the land. A stunning sight stretched before them. The island of Kapiti lay nine miles off in the distance. To their left were the grey and purple hills and mountain ranges of Middle Island. Behind and to each side were beautiful wooded hills and far below them lay the bay and calm blue sea, tinged with yellow. Distant waves crashed over the rocks below. It was one of the most stunning scenes they had witnessed since leaving Auckland. Peter sat down to enjoy the sight with Sarah beside him. When she looked up, Andrew was nowhere to be seen; he reappeared with both his and Peter’s pipes, a small bottle of whisky and three mugs. He sat down next to Sarah. Reaching across her, he passed Peter his pipe and a mug and poured some whisky. Sarah smelt him and felt close to her, his arm brushing up against her making her heart beat faster.
‘Thought yer would like a wee drop.’
‘Fill her up thanks, Mack.’ Peter replied.
‘What about yer, Sarah. Would yer like a wee dram?’
‘No, thank you Andrew, it is lovely sitting here looking at this.’
They sat in silence, the men smoking their pipes and drinking their whisky. Sarah leaned against Peter; she wrapped her arm around his arm and leant her head against his shoulder. The presence of both the men beside her made her feel warm and safe. Slowly her eyelids became heavier and heavier, then she was asleep. Andrew looked towards Sarah; she looked beautiful with a tinge of colour on her face from the sunset. He was comfortable and calm, a feeling he had not experienced for a long time. A mosquito landed on Sarah’s forehead. Andrew reached up and shooed it away. Peter flicked his eyes between Sarah and Andrew.
‘And what, or if any, are your intentions towards my sister?’ He said this with a grin on his face.
‘Why do yer keep asking me?’
‘I do not know, just feeling I have about you.’
‘None at all, if yer must know.’ Andrew lied. ‘I have too much to do. I would like to have something to offer my wife before I marry her. A house and an established farm would be best.’
‘You sound as you have everything mapped out, but you know, sometimes the help of a good woman makes the task more pleasant and she too can feel part of something.’
‘Yer could be right, but nae, I would like to be settled first. Anyway, I do not think it is up to me what I want as far as yer sister is concerned.’
‘You may be right there. I think you have burnt your bridges with the duck incident. Did you see the look on her face? If looks could kill, you would be long gone.’
‘She did look funny. I could nae have planned it if I had tried.’
The men laughed disturbing Sarah.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘Nothing, a joke between friends,’ replied Peter.
Looking at Peter, then at Andrew, as if the sleepiness was making her brave, she stared longer into his eyes. Standing up, she stretched her arms up and stuck her chest out further than she should have done. She did not care. Placing her hands on both their shoulders, pretending to steady herself, she left them there a wee bit longer than she needed to, wanting an excuse to touch Andrew.
‘I am off to bed. I will sleep here all night if I do not go now. Good night, you two.’ With that, she removed her hands and walked back to camp.
‘Good night, Sarah.’ Peter called back. Peter looked back at Andrew as he watched her go. He had seen his sister blushing on occasions when he mentioned Andrew’s name and glanced again at Andrew, pausing before speaking again, thinking. We will see what happens between you two. It is not a question of will it happen, but when.’
‘Why did you leave the army?’ Peter asked.
‘It was time I got out. I saw enough death and sickness and a lot of unrest in India and rumours were going around regarding another war in Europe, so I knew it was time to move on. My health had deteriorated, and when I was injured, I had to get out or end up dead myself. My parents were farmers in Tain, in Scotland. There is a terrible amount of unrest there. People have been thrown off the land for no reason except on a whim of the landlord. I got offered a position in my clan when I went back on furlough in the forties, but did not want it. My father is dead but Mother was his second wife, and the farm passed down to my oldest stepbrother. There is nothing for me there now. Mother and my brother John are in Australia and may join me when I have settled. What about yer?’
‘I was fed up with what was happening at home and was told a lot about this new world and felt I needed something else. I tried several jobs before I settled for law school. After I graduated, I went into land transfer and business law, but felt I was trapped. I felt my life was mapped out to marry, have children.’ He wanted to add but the one he wanted was taken, but he did not. ‘My parents did not want me to go into the army as we had already lost my older brother George. When he was killed, it seemed to bring Sarah and I closer together. We were more like best friends, than brother and sister. I am sure now she thinks sometimes she is a man. Maybe in some respects Ben was right.’
‘I am sure she does.’ Andrew replied laughing. ‘Sarah reminds me of my own sister, Rachel, the youngest of four boys, plus several stepbrothers. She needed to keep on her toes to get her own way, by fair means or foul. I have another brother, Anthony. At least Sarah will get her hands dirty, not like the young madams in India who would have a fit if they got dirt on their hands. God help them if they lifted a finger to help anyone.’
‘Hmm, she does not act like an upper-class female. She could be living in luxury, but she is here with smoke in her face and dirt under her finger nails. Do not be mistaken, she can be used to doing nothing and will order the servants round like the best of them.’
‘Did yer have many servants?’
‘The usual cooks, maids, including a nanny, when we were younger. When Mother was ill, Sarah ran the household; she did not do a bad job either.’
The two men sat together well after the sun went down, smoking their pipes and talking about finding land and farming, especially the opportunities to be had on the Middle Island. They were forming a strong friendship. It was as if they had known each other for years. They would put the other first. As far as Sarah was concerned, both would defend her with their lives. The same plans and dreams and the way to achieve them had brought the pair closer together.
No-one could sleep in, and they started again at half-past five. Later, they passed a place where they were informed a battle was fought with the Natives. Passing a cemetery where the European dead were buried, the road was clear but the land was dense forest and scrub.
‘Because of the bush, no wonder the poor soldiers were easily shot down and unable to keep back the Natives.’ observed Andrew. At this point, it was sixteen miles to Wellington. After ten miles more, they decided to take a break for breakfast. Sarah was becoming excited at the idea of a bath.
Bound for Wellington once more, they took a short cut straight over the hills. At a ridge, they came across their first view of Wellington. The town seemed to consist of a row of houses along the beach in the form of a curve with a high bank behind and a long plateau, on which there were many scattered buildings. Behind these, the hills rose up steep and wooded. The harbour was pretty and it reminded Andrew of a Highland loch. After spotting a good road along the beach, they descended once more into civilization. All Sarah could think about was a bath and a real bed to sleep in. At eleven o’clock, on the 2nd of December, they arrived in Wellington. It had been thirty-two days since they had left Auckland.
Sarah remembered the people they had met, their Maori guides in particular. They kept to themselves with occasional contact, but they respected the Natives’ privacy as well as observing the Sabbath, and by doing so, they had earned the respect of the people. Many a tale was told of travellers who upset their guides, with not too favourable outcomes.