Captive Wife, The

by Kidman, Fiona

  Before this could begin, we had to submit ourselves to a ritual stampede, in which we were trampled underfoot, while the people of the pa shouted I know not what. But I took it to mean that we were no longer pakea, stripped of our whiteness, and must now consider ourselves Maori. I saw the pain Louisa was in, even as she was torn from my hands and hurled beneath the running trampling feet. I saw a foot descend on her chest and believe I heard her rib snap.

  My little girl.

  I saw then that I was bleeding, not from my wounds, but from that time of the month, the first since Louisa’s birth. A man looked down at me, with utter disgust, as if he had trampled on shit. But at least the trampling stopped.

  I was placed in a hut surrounded by stakes at the edge of the pa. A woman was sent to mind me. I never learnt her name. It is considered rude to ask a person’s name directly, and after awhile it became too late for me to find out, though perhaps they thought I knew. It may have been Ruiha, or perhaps it was simply that she was a ruahine, a woman who knows spells. I think of her as Ruiha. I knew I had been sent to the hut because I was unclean, and that I could not leave until I was finished bleeding. But then something else happened that I could not have imagined. I had thought that in sparing me, my children would be allowed to stay with me. Louisa was given to me, though later that night she was taken away, cradled in the arms of one of the women of the tribe, who said she would care for her, and I did not mind that.

  But John was taken away from the pa, riding off on the shoulders of a stranger. I ran to the door because I heard him calling me. He wanted to get down but he was grasped by his ankles, on either side of the man’s neck, so that he couldn’t move.

  Please, I cried. I turned to the woman who I thought was my friend, but this time she shrugged as if there was nothing she could do. He is going to be a rangatira, she said. He will get the very best care, or words to that effect. As if I should be proud.

  No, I said, that cannot be.

  Mama. Mama, John called. I will be a good boy. Don’t let them take me away.

  Stop, I shouted with all the voice I could muster, and that language I had spoken with my friends in Cloudy Bay. Kati. Ko taku tama tena. Stop. That is my boy. My boy.

  Nobody appeared to listen as I fell to the ground. I remember it flashing through my mind, as my cheek rested on the beaten earth of Te Namu pa, that I had failed every person I loved.

  I did not see John again for several months.

  I rest my forehead on the cold glass of the windowpane. Outside in the thin light of the new day, Australian birds stir and shout with their bold mocking voices among a garden that Adie has told me looks as if it is straight from the English countryside. Barefoot I step outside. The scent of late honeysuckle rises from beneath the dew, sharp and sweet. I see the tousled dahlias in the wispy dawn, a line of gladioli at attention like soldiers, and wonder where the next line of musket fire might come from.

  I have an odd premonition that the most important part of my life, that for which I will be remembered, has already passed.

  Chapter 25

  LETTER FROM LIEUTENANT GERALD RODDICK, SYDNEY TO MISS ADELINE MALCOLM AT PARRAMATTA

  2 March 1835

  My dear Miss Malcolm

  I enclose some drawings the children have made for you. How can I prevail upon you? Your presence in my house is essential. Every day, Austen cries and asks for Nanny Adie. I did not know he called you this. He is inconsolable. I have a woman come every day, but although I think her kind enough and she does not beat the children hard, it seems she does not truly understand their needs.

  At first, after you left, I thought that children should accept their lot and not question the arrangements made by their elders. But as I see my son growing more despondent every day, I wonder how I will ever make a man of him. Shoulders up, boy, I say. I ask the cook if he has eaten everything put in front of him, but she reports that the plate returned on his tray is hardly touched. Of course she is not a good cook. Do you think she should be replaced with a better one? Miss Malcolm — Adeline, if I may be so forward — I would allow you to find a better cook if you returned to my household.

  I know that in the past you have encouraged me to seek an education for Mathilde at one of the better schools for young ladies. I see she is sorely in need of some lessons in deportment, for her manner has become quite rough and rude, like that of the convict children of the Rocks. She still has the language of a lady, but there is a certain insolence about her that I cannot tolerate. But I will do whatever you suggest to improve her attitude.

  I am quite at a loss as to how these children should be brought up without you here to help me.

  If I have done anything to offend you, I do ask your forgiveness. You have nothing to fear from me. As far as the matter on which we have disagreed is concerned, for all I know Mrs Guard may be more sinned against than sinful, and perhaps I have been too quick to judge. Your friendship towards her is as a trifle to me, if you will just come back.

  Yours,

  Gerald Roddick

  ‘The cheek of it,’ says Adie, her hands trembling, as she reads this over her breakfast tray. She and Betty sit in the shaded porch in front of the cottage, the small table before them.

  ‘He is very condescending in his manner,’ Betty says. She is pale and drawn, with dark circles beneath her eyes from lack of sleep.

  ‘You have nothing to fear.’ Adie quotes the letter with a spit of contempt in her voice.

  ‘Oh, I thought you were referring to his words about me. Perhaps I have been too quick to judge.’

  ‘That? Well, yes, I do see that that might be wounding to you. Rumour without substance is always unkind.’

  ‘Well,’ says Betty with some vehemence, ‘he’s just offering a general view of my character, isn’t he? Nothing you can put your finger on, nothing that I can go and say to your lieutenant, what is it exactly that you mean? What sin have you heard about of mine? For he would say in answer, but I have said nothing of you, I have only spoken in the kindest terms. I’m taking your side.’

  Adie looks at her friend carefully.

  ‘I don’t think you’ve told me everything, Betty.’

  ‘Why on earth would I do that?’ Betty says, with the semblance of a laugh. And then, as if to turn away her sharpness, she adds, ‘You mightn’t always hear me, Adie. Or perhaps I don’t put into words some of my darkest reflections.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I was very tired last night,’ Adie says, after another silence. ‘I can’t imagine what I’d have done, in your circumstances.’

  ‘You’d have done whatever you must, whatever you had to do to save your children’s lives. You’d have pretended to yourself that nothing existed except the place you were in. Until you came to believe it.’

  ‘So you think I should go back to Lieutenant Roddick’s house?’ says Adie, as if she has hardly been listening.

  ‘Roddick?’ Betty is glad of a diversion from scrutiny of herself. ‘Well, like me, I suppose you have the children to consider too. But these aren’t your children,’ she says, with the appearance of a frown. ‘Surely that’s different.’

  ‘In what way?’ The teacher’s voice is querulous.

  ‘They’ll grow up and grow away, and then you’ll be on your own again. What cause will the lieutenant have for you remaining in his household when they are gone?’

  ‘I don’t want to think about that, Betty.’

  ‘You love him, don’t you?’

  The governess fans her burning cheeks, her damp eyes.

  ‘Why,’ says Betty, ‘you’re a late bloomer, aren’t you?’

  ‘Am I? Do you think so?’

  ‘Well, yes,’ says Betty, without irony. ‘But of course, if it’s the lieutenant you’re after, the whole thing changes. Either it’s the children you’re worried about, or the lieutenant.’

  ‘Couldn’t it be both?’ asks Adie, her voice humble.

  ‘It would be worse for the children if you returned and then lef
t again. I expect they’ll get used to someone new if they have to.’

  ‘You can’t know that,’ Miss Malcolm cries.

  ‘Well, I know a lot. It’s different with every child. My daughter is dead. But my son has had plenty of mothers and does very well.’

  ‘Are you thinking of leaving Captain Guard?’

  ‘For the moment, that is exactly what I’ve done.’ Betty appears light-headed and giddy when she voices this admission.

  Miss Malcolm lets out a wail like a child. ‘I don’t know what to do.’

  ‘About me, or yourself?’ Betty feels like another person, older and wiser than the woman before her, whose shaky hand mops up her poached egg with a piece of bread. She looks into Adie’s eyes watering in bright sunlight, so that the rims of her pupils seem to dissolve. ‘What do you really want? If it’s the lieutenant, you must weigh up the possibilities. Can you bear to bring up his children while you sleep in an iron bed in the maid’s quarters, or do you have any chance of bringing him to bed yourself?’

  Adie looks away from Betty, her eyes narrowed against the morning sun. ‘Will you go back to Captain Guard?’

  ‘Before I can decide that, I’ll have to see if he asks me,’ says Betty. ‘You could say, Adie, that our misfortunes have something in common.’

  Chapter 26

  JOURNAL OF JOHN GUARD

  Cambridge Street, the Rocks, August 1834

  Musket shot thudded behind me. My head feels like it is exploding when I think back on what happened. I cannot bear to remember, but I cannot forget. As I left Betty and the children at Te Namu, I reached out to her but she didn’t see me, and she could not have got away.

  My poor wife.

  Her eyes were like those of the cow whale that cannot save its calf once the chase has begun. In my pocket I touched a piece of broken tortoise-shell. I couldn’t remember catching it but I must have put out my hand in an effort to save Betty as she was struck with a tomahawk. I knew the comb’s familiar shape beneath my hand.

  I was leaving her and the children behind. The truth of this hit me like a hammer blow beneath my heart. I should not have listened when she pleaded with me to stay. I should have taken the boat and run for it down the coast.

  What happened should not have come as a surprise. Things had things turned from bad to worse from the time we ran aground. Our sacking was muru, a plundering in revenge for wrongs done. The men who deserted us and came back are dead now and good riddance. I heard them have a laugh about what they done to the girls at the pa but they were scared all the same. No good will come of this I said to myself. I couldn’t figure out why they let them come back but I see it now. They wanted all of us at once. They wanted us to know what had happened and what we were being punished for. It has to be said many Maoris do not like whalers. I have heard this said often enough and sometimes with fair reason. But whalers have done good turns as well as bad. In the end it usually comes down to women.

  I caught up soon with my bro. Charley who had held back for me and not long after that we came across the other crew members who had escaped.

  We travelled north during the night, for by now I had a plan in my head. About 40 mile to the north-west is Moturoa, where I’d done good trade in flax earlier on. These are Ati Awa people, known for their fierceness. But my friends Dicky Barrett and John Love, the ones who took Te Awaiti off of my hands, gave good help to these people when they were attacked by tribes from the north. It was thanks to the cannons they gave the Ati Awa that they had a victory. I saw nothing else for it but to push north and see if they wd help us.

  Well, some hope that was. In the morning we had not got very far before we came across 100 savages waiting in ambush. They had been going south hoping to get their share of the Harriet booty.

  Too late too bloody late I told them which did nothing much to help.

  That was our lot. We seemed to have no friends. They took us captive and took our clothes. It’s hard for a man to run when he has no threads.

  I thought we were done for. They circled round us tomahawks held high. After hours while which they talked and argued among themselves they decided to take us to Moturoa. I couldn’t follow much of what was said. Betty wd have known what they were on about. This tribe understand English because of Dicky Barrett and Jack Love and the man Oliver who has lived at their pa. But they wd not speak to us, except in their tongue.

  It was getting cold again and our spirits very low. Charley said well this is a nice mess brother. I spent 7 years a captive and now here I am a prisoner again.

  I said at least you are alive which is more than can be said for Betty’s bro and our mates.

  For the time being he said. Anyway they were no mates of mine.

  I didn’t feel like arguing with him. I was sore inside about young David and also the loss of Captain Hall, not to mention all else that had befallen us. I could not bring myself to think on Betty and what the Maoris might have done to her. I recalled the chief Tamaiharanui who had put his daughter to death rather than let him fall into the hands of Te Rauparaha. Perhaps that is what I should have done for Betty, put her out of her misery. But now it was too late for that as well.

  At Moturoa they put us in a pen and fed us potatoes. Of the man Oliver there was no sign. We heard he had left. We were offered meat. I said no for who is to know but that is human flesh. 1 of our men says I have heard it is no different to eating a bit of pork if you close your eyes. I said I will kill you with my bare hands if you touch it.

  I will die anyway I expect he said. He was a poor wretch transported for attacking his master in England with a boot last. I made his boots too tight he told me. When he told me this we was looking at the stars and wondering what wd happen next and whether we are being fattened up.

  So did you I asked him as much to pass the time as anything,

  Not at all. He took them away and then he brought me back a different pair altogether and said as how they were the same shoes.

  I should like some shoes I said. Any shoes.

  Where wd you go if you had some Charley asked from my other side.

  Out of here and fetch my son.

  And what of Betty.

  Oh Betty too I said.

  I did not say that I had decided it best to think of Betty as already dead. If she was not she wd be made dirty by the savages. The blood boiled between my ears. Betty belongs to me.

  Some days passed. It was easy to lose track of how many days and nights. But then news did come. My wife and daughter were living at Te Namu pa.

  My son I said. What of my son?

  He was safe too they told me. But at another pa.

  I felt uplifted with hope. Well then I said to our captors, in that case you wd do better if you let us go so that we can bring a ransom.

  We wd not be the ones to receive a ransom for your wife and children.

  I heard their logic so I said, Well what about if we give you a reward for letting us go.

  At 1st they laughed but the matter did not end there. That evening there was long talk on the marae. Speaker after speaker got up and waved their sticks and harangued the tribe. In the end we went to sleep while they were still talking.

  In the morning I got a proposition. Their English had improved. What if I was to leave some of our men here for a ransom. This included my brother Charley.

  How much do you want I said not liking what they were putting on the table but seeing no other way.

  Surely they are worth a cask of gunpowder.

  To this I agreed. But I was not letting them have it all their own way. I said, If I am to be sure my brother and my men will be safe then I must take some of your chiefs with me. Who is willing to come.

  3 chiefs said they wd come with us.

  You must allow me to go and get the ransom. If you will let me repair my whaleboat then I can leave.

  They looked round at 1 another. We don’t know if you tell the truth.

  And I think it is all some game. We will go on and
on like this.

  Captain Guard tells the truth said the bootmaker, an acquaintance I was coming to like.

  We will bring the boat here they said and you can fix it as you can.

  I will need men to help me.

  So they allowed some of the men to help me but the rest had to be their slaves. They gave back some of our clothes and what they didn’t give back they wore themselves. I got back my shirt and a pair of trousers. I don’t know whether they were mine to start with but at any rate, it was something to cover me. Then they chose their slaves of which Charley was 1.

  Another month passed while we worked on the boat. We had at our disposal just a pocketknife, a few nails and a hammer. The bootmaker was useful in this respect, being used to fine work on his last and finding small holes I might have missed.

  On June 20, we left. 5 of my men were allowed to go, but not Charley. I thought if he was an obedient slave he might win himself favour but they liked him too well.

  Goodbye brother I said.

  Well that is not the first time I heard you say that.

  I hope I see you this side of the great divide I said.

  You watch out for Betty he said.

  I cuffed him around the ears but not hard. He is a different kettle of fish to me, for I saw tears in his eyes which I would never show no man.

  Counting the 3 chiefs, 9 of us put out to sea.

  For days we were hit by heavy seas. A strong N.W. gale tossed us about. We spent a night ashore but the boat sprung a leak and when we started out again we had to bail the water threatening to engulf us.

  June 25 the weather was coming good. We found ourselves at Stephens Island where there were fat mussels on the rocks. We dried ourselves out and ate our fill. Feeling more cheerful by far we kept on going until we came to Cloudy Bay. It was as Charley told me no buildings left standing, no sign of any 1 thing that we owned.

  A ship was lying at anchor in the bay, the barque Mary Ann, that had been taking on fresh water.