Maori

by Alan Dean Foster

  “But it is going to be done.” Merita was full of confidence now, and she imparted some of it to the youngsters. “It will be done in the most splendid wedding anyone has ever seen.” Her voice was full of joy. “As long as you love and respect one another you will always be happy. That is one thing that is true for both Maori and pakeha.” She hugged her son, then stepped back.

  “She is very beautiful, Andrew. And you, little niece who I did not know I had, it seems you have been family all along.”

  “I am going to have to tell my father what has happened.”

  “Do not worry. If he has made peace with those he fought against he can make peace with me. Send him my best wishes. Tell him I am sorry it has been so long since we have spoken. A foolish thing, us living so near and not knowing of it. The ways of the gods are wondrous indeed.”

  “What—what if he changes his mind? What if he withdraws his consent?”

  “Having already agreed, he will not now change his mind. I remember Opotiki that well at least. Let nothing stop you.” She made shooing motions with her hands. “Go now, go on and tell Opotiki he must suffer some happiness whether it pleases him or not. If he so wishes it we can have two weddings: one in a church and another at Ohinemutu in the Maori fashion.”

  “Two weddings. That would be fun,” Valerie said.

  “Yes. Now go on, get out. When you return we can begin the preparations.”

  “Thank you, Mother. I love you.” Andrew bent to kiss her, as did Valerie. As they turned to depart, he glanced back toward his father, sitting silent and motionless in his chair. “Good-bye, Father.”

  Robert Coffin did not offer a reply.

  Merita watched until the lovers had exited through the front door. Then she returned to the sun porch. Coffin sat as he had when they’d departed. The spilled lemonade had seeped into the wood.

  She stopped behind her husband and put a hand on his shoulder. “It will be all right, Robert. The fact they are cousins makes no difference. Is it not remarkable that they should discover each other so?”

  There was a long pause. Then Coffin sighed resignedly. “No, not really. Andrew always did have an eye for the ladies. The girl is remarkably pretty.” Moving around in front of him Merita saw that his expression had softened. “In fact, she looks a bit like you. Hardly surprising, I suppose, given the circumstances.”

  “Then you will give them your blessing?” He looked away from her and said nothing. “Then do not, but promise me at least that you will not interfere with the wedding.”

  “Very well. I won’t interfere with the wedding, Merita.” He looked back up at her. “On that you have my word. But your brother could still make trouble.”

  She sounded surprised. “He cannot. We have already spoken of that. Under pakeha law he cannot stop the marriage.”

  “Not under the law, no. But there are other possibilities. Illegal but effective.”

  Her expression indicated she hadn’t considered that. At last she said, “I do not think even Opotiki would go so far. But now you worry me, Robert.” She looked back toward the hall. “Do you think Andrew will be all right?”

  “Andrew can take care of himself, though I don’t think he’s acted very maturely in this. How long can he have known the girl? A few days, a week?”

  “How long,” asked Merita softly, “had you known me when you decided you wanted me for yourself?”

  “As soon as I set eyes on you. But that was different. You’re different.”

  “Not so very much, Robert.” She stepped away. “So much to do. I must get started immediately.”

  “By all means, immediately,” said Coffin sarcastically. “What’s the hurry? Invitations will have to travel the length and breadth of the country.”

  “Those intended for your friends will, Robert. All my friends live in this district. If you wish your friends to attend it is you who must invite them. I have everything else to plan.” She bent to plant a kiss on his lips, then hurried back into the house, calling back to him as she ran. “I will send someone to take care of the lemonade.”

  Coffin found himself staring through the screen. You do that, he thought coolly. Make all the plans you want. I have some to make myself.

  5

  “Where are you going, Robert?”

  Coffin stopped at the gate and looked back toward the house. Merita stood on the porch wiping out a large bowl. She was the bane of the servants, always pre-empting their work, cleaning and washing. It was unseemly for the mistress of the great house by the lake to do such work but Merita insisted. Sitting all day would drive her mad. So despite the disapproval of the servants she participated in the daily chores, doing more work than any two of them.”

  “Just over to the landing. There’s a group going over to the terraces this morning. I thought I might go with them.”

  Merita’s expression changed to one of puzzlement. There was nothing unusual in her husband’s tone or demeanor, but still she wondered.

  “You have seen the terraces a dozen times, Robert. We both have.”

  He shrugged. “I didn’t say I was going for certain. I might change my mind.” He hesitated. “Would you like to come along?”

  “No. I have much to do here. You know Andrew and Valerie are coming in from Ohinemutu tonight.”

  Indeed he did. It was another reason why he had to be on that tour boat this morning. “I’ll be back in plenty of time to greet them.” He gave her a cheery wave and reassuring smile before departing through the gate. She watched until his horse had crested the rise in the road that led toward Te Wairoa.

  He rode slowly, wanting time to think. It would have to be done with the utmost care. It had already been arranged for Valerie to stay at the Terraces Hotel. While her presence in the Coffin household would not have troubled her Maori relations, it would have provoked unnecessary gossip among the local pakehas. An unmarried young woman did not stay overnight at the home of her fiance. Or so he had argued. Hadn’t he agreed to attend the wedding? This was such a small thing to ask. They finally gave in, Merita too. The newlyweds-to-be would only be a few miles apart, and then only for a couple of days.

  He was the last to arrive at the boat landing. If he’d lingered at the house ten minutes more he would have missed it completely.

  The tourists stood chatting excitedly, the men in their traveling suits, the women in their long dresses, as they waited for the boat to push off. There were half a dozen Maori rowers, three of them women, and guide Sophia. She smiled as she saw him approach. They’d seen each other in Te Wairoa many times but had only become friends when Coffin learned that she had been born in, of all places, Kororareka. That brought back too many memories to ignore. Though she’d been little more than a girl when Hone Heke had burned the old whaling town to the ground, it was enough to form a bond between them.

  Sophia was a handsome, mature Maori, widely respected as the best guide on the lake. Her solid A-frame home was one of the biggest and sturdiest Maori structures in the village. She greeted him warmly.

  “Mr. Coffin. I am surprised to see you this morning. Do you come to see someone off?”

  “On the contrary, I’d like to come along.” He looked past her. “Think there’s room for me in the boat?”

  “Always room for yourself, Mr. Coffin.” She nodded in the direction of the waiting Europeans. “With you there will be eight, but I think everyone will fit.”

  “Thank you.”

  Coffin joined the party. Two of the men moved to make room for him on one of the benches. He chatted briefly with several of the other passengers without mentioning his name.

  The Maoris all knew him. Everyone in the district did. But they were more interested in talking among themselves.

  Eventually Coffin’s attention focused on a large man in his mid-forties. His hair and beard were a ruddy red-brown. One time the man made eye contact. It lasted until Coffin nodded imperceptibly.

  As the rowers prepared to shove off, Coffin moved to t
he front of the boat. The other man sat near the back. They ignored each other intentionally, the man watching one of the female rowers, Coffin leisurely studying the lake and surrounding mountains. Around him the other tourists nattered on endlessly about the beauty of the landscape: the deep blue lake, the forest hills encompassing it and the vast gray lump of Mount Tarawera on the far side.

  After the usual long crossing they drew within sight of the Pink Terraces. The rowers docked and Sophia led her charges along a crude path toward the remarkable thermal formation where warm water cascaded over bright pink limestone steps, tumbling fifty feet to the steaming shoreline below.

  Coffin remained in the boat, waiting for the sightseers to return, listening to the idle conversation of the rowers. After the usual interval the tourists returned and resumed their seats, talking excitedly of the wonders they’d seen.

  The White Terraces were even more spectacular, a seemingly endless succession of travertine pools that descended gradually to the lakeshore. Coffin had heard many visitors call it one of the wonders of the world.

  Several of the pools were of a size and temperature ideal for bathing, and in fact had been marked for this purpose. Those designated for men and women were located on opposite sides of the terraces to allow privacy. However there would be no bathing today, since none of the visitors had contracted for the required longer stay.

  Spilling over the pure white travertine dams, the water sparkled like molten glass. The tourists were appropriately impressed. They strolled off in different directions while Sophia bustled back and forth between them like a mother hen, warning of places where the ground was too fragile to support their weight.

  Now that the group had dispersed, Coffin casually sidled over to where the large redhead was standing near the top of the terraces. Water steamed and boiled behind them, emerging from bubbling geysers to flow over the crests of the uppermost dams.

  “Halifax?” The bearded man nodded, spoke without turning. Anyone watching could see that his attention was concentrated on the terraces.

  “And you’d be Mr. Coffin, I take it.” Coffin nodded in return and the man acknowledged it with a grunt. “Knew it couldn’t have been any of the others.” He grinned through his whiskers. “Thought for a minim it might’ve been the priest in disguise, but you’ve no need o’ that, have you? You’re an important fella.”

  “Sufficient for my needs. You saw the girl?”

  The man who called himself Halifax nodded a second time, chuckling as he did so. “Identified ’er at the hotel. Pretty little thing—for a native. You folks seem to mix pretty free with the blackfolk here. Don’t see much o’ that over in Sydney.”

  “This isn’t Sydney, and the Maori aren’t the same as your Aborigines.”

  Halifax spat into the nearest pure pool. “Maoris, black-folk—they’re all abos to me.”

  Coffin’s gaze narrowed and his voice took on an edge. “Listen close to me, Halifax. The girl is going to be indentured, and only for two years at that. While she’s in your charge and up to the time you deliver her she’s not to be mistreated. Understand?”

  “Understand? Oh, sure, guv’nor.” Halifax didn’t try to hide his amusement. “Why, this’ll be the politest kidnappin’ anyone ever saw. I’ll be sure an’ tip me hat to the lady every chance I get. Seems a rotten shame, though.”

  “I’m warning you. No harm is to come to her. If any does I’ll know about it. She’s going to work for an honored, respectable Dutch family who’ll treat her properly.”

  Halifax looked bored now. “Don’t worry, guv’nor. I remember your instructions. The ship’s already anchored at Tauranga. Me and the boys will hustle her out o’ here before she’s missed. We’ll be out to sea before anyone, white or brown, has a chance to organize a search. And we’ll keep her well hid, don’t you worry. Nobody’ll know which way she went. Providin’ you does your part, o’ course.”

  “I’ll delay any search parties long enough for you to weigh anchor, don’t worry about that. But keep in mind I’m holding you responsible for her safety. My contacts in Batavia will let me know in what condition she arrives.”

  “Now, now, guv. You’ve hired me to do a job. Rest assured I’ll follow your instructions to the letter. Why would I even think o’ doin’ anything else?”

  “Because the girl is beautiful,” Coffin said evenly, “and you and I both know what kind of price she’d fetch in Hong Kong or Calcutta or the Arabias. I won’t stand for any funny business, Halifax.”

  “You’re upsettin’ yourself needless-like, sir.” Halifax went quiet while a pair of tourists strolled past. They talked animatedly between themselves, ignoring the two men standing on the edge of the travertine cliff. In a business of this nature one did not take chances. That was why Coffin had arranged to meet Halifax here, all the way across the lake from Te Wairoa and well away from any likely witnesses.

  “You treat her gentle, now.”

  “Righty-right, guv’nor. Seems unnatural for an old sailor like yourself to spoil another’s fun, though.”

  “Halifax, I’m paying you and your men enough to buy half the women in Sydney for a month, if that’s what you want. You’ll keep your hands off this one, or else.”

  “Now guv’nor.” Halifax looked hurt. “It’s not good for business to part with threats.”

  “I’m not threatening you. Do the job as we discussed in our letters and there’ll be no trouble. Just don’t cross me.”

  “Ah now, you just said you’d not be makin’ any threats, sir.” Halifax grinned. Coffin didn’t like that, but at this stage there was little he could do. There was no time to plan anew with another group of men, and besides, Halifax had come highly recommended for this sort of underhanded business.

  Everything had to be done tonight, while Andrew was at the house discussing wedding plans with his mother and Valerie was at the hotel away from her family at Ohinemutu. He had to admit Halifax had been discreet and inconspicuous. If the abduction was carried off as smoothly, all would be well.

  “My apologies, but you should understand my concern. This matter is—delicate.” He looked past his hireling. Several tourists were approaching. “We’d best break this up now. You know what to do and I wouldn’t want anyone to remember that we talked for more than a minute or two.”

  “Wotcher, guv. Don’t want ’em to think we’re friends or nothin’ like that.”

  Coffin studied Halifax as the redhead began to make his way toward the waiting boat far below. After a decent interval he followed. He still didn’t trust the man completely, but how could you trust anyone completely in an enterprise of this sort, whose very nature required the employment of people generally recognized as untrustworthy?

  It would work. Halifax would receive the other half of his pay only upon the successful delivery of the girl to the waiting family at Batavia. The abduction would take place late tonight, when everyone including Maori servants and the rest of the hotel staff were fast asleep. It likely wouldn’t be discovered until several hours after breakfast. By that time the ship at Tauranga should be on its way.

  Valerie would spend two years serving as a well-treated indentured servant to a respectable Dutch family, at the end of which period she would be “miraculously” rescued and returned home. If Andrew pined for her that long, then Coffin would admit the impossibility of preventing their marriage. He doubted such would be the case. It had to be no more than another infatuation. In six or seven months Andrew would find his attention wandering toward the other young ladies of marriageable age. Coffin hoped to be able to steer the lad toward women of his own station.

  He didn’t much like Halifax, but then, he hadn’t expected to. That didn’t matter. Coffin was sure the man would adhere to his instructions.

  It was late afternoon when the boat started back across the lake. Once more the silently smiling Halifax sat at the opposite end of the craft from Coffin. Under Sophia’s direction the rowers mechanically propelled themselves and their cargo
toward the little dock at Te Wairoa.

  They were out in the middle of the lake when one of the tourists let out a cry and pointed to his left. “Look there, everybody! Another boat.”

  Coffin whirled along with everyone else.

  “Strange sort of boat,” declared one of the other tourists.

  Coffin said nothing, unable to believe what he saw drifting out of the mist that clung to this part of the lake. “That’s no boat.” He rubbed at his eyes, blinked at the apparition.

  Getting old, he told himself. Got to be getting old.

  But if it was an apparition, everyone else in the boat saw it too.

  “Good God,” Father Kelleher muttered. The Maoris were conversing excitedly among themselves. Coffin concentrated on the vision, expecting it to disappear at any minute. It did not.

  It was a Maori war canoe, a huge double-hulled craft designed for ocean-going travel. Both the high stern post and sweeping curved bows were intricately carved. The line of Maori warriors in the nearest hull paddled steadily and strongly while those in the second hull stood at attention, holding greenstone clubs and long spears. All wore exquisite flaxen robes. Those who stood had their heads bowed. As befitted warriors, iridescent feathers had been worked into their hair.

  Kelleher carried a sketch pad everywhere he went. Now he had the presence of mind to extract it from his pocket and begin drawing furiously.

  Coffin kept waiting for the canoe to vanish. It remained as solid and real-looking as their own boat. Without straining one could see the water glistening on the paddles as the line of rowers dipped and stroked, dipped and stroked. He would have ordered their own rowers to turn toward the canoe except he knew they would ignore him.

  There might be no need for directives since the canoe seemed to be angling toward them. Soon it was so close you could make out individual expressions on the rowers. Like the standing warriors, those wielding the paddles were elaborately tattooed.

  When it was half a mile away, it vanished like a mirage.