“Little Jenny, my life too has taken a turn that I could never have imagined. Mr Olsen has talked to Miss Jessica and I am going to live with them. Can you keep a secret? They wanted to adopt me but it was too difficult, because of what happened back there in England, so I will just become part of their family.”
They hugged each other and danced on the deck, two waifs who had found real happiness for the first time in their lives. Mate pointed out Cape Brett and Piercy Island, with its hole, right through it, both named by Captain Cook. The ship sailed slowly in past Whale Rock, and headed towards Kororareka, the capital of New Zealand.
Ship’s gossip and tales told by those few who had already been to New Zealand did little to slate the passenger’s curiosity, or allay their fears. There were tales of cannibalism, rape and ritualistic murders amongst the native people and the lowest scum of the white whalers, terrified children and women alike. The men listening to these tales certainly paid attention even if publicly scoffing at the fears. Mate, bless him, tried to be as honest as he could to those who listened.
“The natives are noble savages and as such have evolved from centuries in a different culture to ours. They are passionate, not prone to forgive an insult easy, yet forge strong bonds of friendship. They are good traders and have the respect of the thinking white man who chooses to live here. As fighters there are few to equal them, yet their music and dance is beautiful to behold. I have made a number of good friends amongst them although intermarriage is not always looked on kindly by either race. Yet there are many enigmas.
For example many Maori girls work in the whorehouses with the encouragement of their men, yet the same men will rise and give their life to the defence of the girl if needed. The problem is that, like white culture, there are many levels in their society and the white man often only comes in contact with the more base characters. Likewise, many a whaler and trader have cheated a Maori. There is distrust on both sides but it is said a treaty between the Maori people and the British settlers may soon be signed. I am confident that when the Maori and white people live in harmony, then this land the Maori call Aotearoa will become a most wonderful place to live and grow with our children.”
Jessica looked at her Mr Olsen with amazement. This was far and away the biggest speech she had ever heard him make. All the passengers were now looking ahead of the bow of the ship, to the land that was beginning to fold its arms around them. A number of pretty islands lay to port, heavily wooded. Out to starboard a shore line, edged with golden sands, carried on past their vision, as it curved into a small harbour. Smoke from villages rose at regular intervals, though at this point the natives were still too far away to see with the naked eye. Now the sails were all taken in and skiffs manned by sailors were lowered to pull the ship around a headland.
The first view of Kororareka was rather less than encouraging. From the ship’s rail, they could see few European buildings. Some basic houses appeared to be made of wood, none more than one storey and there were many thatched huts.
While a number of people seemed to be wandering around aimlessly, there was nothing of the crowds and bustle of the land they had left. With loud noise coming across the water from the bawdy houses, and the generally crude air, many on shipboard wondered what primitive place they had come to. An English navy ship and several whalers were already at anchor. Native canoes thronged the bay, while ship’s tenders plied the waters, ferrying persons and cargo ashore.
Lighters from ship providores and Maori canoes visited the ‘Nell Gwynn’, but none were allowed aboard till proper respects had been paid to the Governor ashore and the ship given a health clearance.
Mate and the Captain were rowed ashore, where the boat boys pulled the tender on to the beach. Mate jumped ashore and with joy leant down and scooped up a handful of the golden sand. He rubbed it between two hands and with a big smile on his face, joined the Captain. They walked up to the grassy shore, past a public house and the police station, to the Governor’s residence in the second street.
There, over glasses of sherry, the Captain recounted an outline of the voyage, passed over letters and mail and was received into the new colony. The ‘Nell Gwynn’ was one of a new wave of migrant ships and a smooth assimilation of the settlers into the society was demanded by the powers back in London.
The Governor spoke at some length about the hoped-for treaty between the Crown and the Maoris, required to give him greater authority to exercise much needed law and order. This ‘capital’ of New Zealand, Kororareka, and a scant 43 years after Captain Cook’s second voyage had already gained a worldwide reputation as the ‘hell-hole of the Pacific’. White women and decent Maori girls learned quickly to tread carefully. Brothels abounded where many young girls just disappeared, and coarse liquor inflamed frustrated men, long of the sea and short on female comfort. The Governor cautioned them with regards to the women and children back on board and bade them well.
As no ship’s tenders were at that moment on the beach, the two retired to the public house, ‘The Duke of Marlborough’ for an ale. They sat in the sun and enjoyed the cessation of movement, after all these months.
“I swear that the taste of the first ale ashore is the only thing that makes these trips worthwhile.”
“Comments echoed by sailors since the dawn of time,” said Mate, who took a long draught before he continued. “You will appreciate, sir that I wish to be paid off. I intend to settle here with my wife and children.”
The Captain replied, “You will do well, Mr Olsen, especially with the beautiful Mrs Olsen by your side. But there is still a calling in you, I feel.”
“It may be for adventure, sir, but not for the sea, at least, not in the immediate future. Sir, there is another matter that I have been charged with the duty to inform you.” Mate was trying hard to distance himself from the question before him. The Captain looked at him quizzically.
“Sir, despite certain misgivings, first I want to say that I have found you to be a fair and just man and an excellent captain and seaman. I would have no qualms in serving under you again.”
“Thank you. And…?”
“Well, this is what makes things so difficult for me at this moment. Mrs Olsen and I will never forget the kindness shown to us on our wedding day.”
“I nearly offered you my cabin for the nuptials, but you are so damned honourable, I knew you wouldn’t take it.” Mate sighed, and downed a large gulp of ale.
“Sir, I have to say this now, unpalatable as it is. I am the sworn messenger and it is my duty to do this.” A dark cloud went over the sun and the air chilled.
“What is it, Mr Olsen?”
“Judge Littlewood has written a letter to the British Board of Trade that will end your career.” The Captain went white. “But - why?” was all he could say.
“There is strong evidence that you were directly responsible for the disappearance of the cabin boy Bill Bates on your last voyage and the current condition of poor young Harry.”
“Condition?”
“He has syphilis, which he caught from you. His young body is not able to control it, and his condition is serious and deteriorating.”
“There’s no proof,” blustered the Captain, but without a lot of conviction.
“Harry has learned to read and write, sufficiently to put an affidavit on paper in his own words and sign it. The evidence is very damning. Judge Littlewood is now the most senior court judge in the country and he says that if Harry dies you could be charged with his murder too.” The Captain slumped back, wordless.
Mate let him think about it for a few minutes. Eventually the Captain said, in a quiet yet steady voice, “I am ruined.”
“Well, perhaps not. This matter is currently just known to the three of us. I believe that if you made an offer of restitution to Harry, to the amount of two hundred guineas, then the letter might just disappear. Nothing will bring Bill Bates back but Harry can get hospital care and it is hoped you will not err again.”
&
nbsp; “But that is my whole profit for this voyage!” railed the captain plaintively.
Mate glowered. “We are also talking about the life of a young human being. You will make that money on the next trip and you will be able to remain a captain. I will get Harry to a hospital and he will think I have paid for his keep. Your family will never know. I don’t think you have much choice, sir.”
It was nearly dark when Mate was finally given the Certificate of Pratique, the health clearance, and returned to the ship. Some of the passengers and half the crew, now desperate to just get off the ship, hailed canoes and boatmen and made their way ashore, even though Mate cautioned them against it. Sure enough, in the morning, there were a number of bloodied faces and empty pockets.
Finally next morning most of the passengers left the ‘Nell Gwynn’ to her own fortunes, and moved on to a new life, one that was full of change and full of promise.
A Readers’ Bonus
POSH–2
a New Zealand novel
Waitangi and War
Chapter One
New Zealand and the New Settlers 1839
After nearly four months at sea on the ‘Nell Gwynn’, the sight before the passengers brought reality to their dreams. There had been a crew rebellion; a man had jumped overboard, three big storms, a lightning strike, broken sleep, broken dreams, and an endless diet of salted meat, fights, babies conceived in the dark and bodies consigned to the deep, in the light. Men had fought, women had fought, and children had played. Passions had flared and more than one divorce was nigh, as the pressures of shipboard life had continued grindingly onwards.
Orders were given that all were to be ferried ashore. Then the Captain made a concession. As available accommodation was very limited, for a small fee those who chose to could sleep on board till the ‘Nell Gwynn’ left for Port Nicholson in a fortnight. After their last breakfast, the Captain addressed them all. In the preamble he thanked them for their fortitude and patience during the voyage and wished them a great future in their new chosen land.
“For nearly all of you, this will be your first time in a foreign land, certainly south of the equator. New Zealand is as different to England as is a stallion horse to a farm cow.” He held up his hand to still the laughter.
“There is untapped potential here and yet there is danger, even violent death. You will have heard talk that a treaty is being discussed between the Maori native people and Her Majesty the Queen. At this point there is neither treaty nor colony and though a token of a regiment is at the fort, the natives are known to attack and kill. And worse,” he added.
“Most problems are petty, like theft and drunkenness, but to the Maori the issue of land sales has become one of great importance. The Maoris fear their land ownership has been unfairly eroded and are now much more diffident about selling. Therefore I say to you: if you are at all considering purchasing land, do so fairly and honestly. Treat them as you would be treated. Just remember that the situation is somewhat volatile, as there has been deceit on both sides.” He paused for thought.
“Ashore you will find a superfluity of vice and sin. I suggest you take great care of your women and children.” The listening crowd huddled perceptibly closer.
“However, there are the Protestant and Catholic churches and the Mission House. There are also private houses and trading establishments. In Kororareka itself, the population has only around three hundred Europeans, a number of whom are of doubtful character. I wish you good luck and good health. May God be with you.”
There were three cheers raised for the Captain then a gloomy low-level of talk, as most heads turned shore-wards.
Meanwhile, Mate had made arrangements for Harry, who was carried gently from the sick bay, where he had lain for a week. His nearly skeletal body had succumbed quickly to the terrible disease and blood trickled from his mouth with every agonised cough. Mate and Matthew had spent hours with him and yet his life force was ebbing away before their eyes.
Harry was carefully lowered into a lighter and rowed ashore to the mission at Paihia, becoming the first person after the Captain and Mate to go ashore from the voyage. Mate went with him and made sure Harry was comfortable. The only doctor was out on his rounds, but Harry was put into the small hospital room and comforted by Judith-Ann, the good doctor’s daughter.
Mate then spent some time trying to find accommodation for himself and his family. To his chagrin, since his last visit there was an even greater proliferation of, grog shops, skittle alleys, brothels and gambling houses. There were at least five hotels, all well patronised and all serving strong alcohol, generally rum or beer from Sydney. Decent and well-dressed persons were to be seen, but a fair number of disreputable characters were loitering in the streets. There was no genteel New England in this raw township.
He considered himself lucky to find some crude accommodation in a wooden shed, at the back of a hotel on a rear street. It was reasonably weatherproof and some of the private residences were just across the roadway. There was an outside area for cooking and a clear stream running close by for water. He blessed the timing of the ship’s arrival, for the southern summer had begun and the days and nights would be warm. There was little doubt that a great number of the passengers were about to spend an unknown number of days, even weeks, encamped on the beach, surrounded by their few possessions.
After their last breakfast on a beautiful spring morning, most of the passengers made ready to leave the ship. Hand-shakes and kisses were exchanged; the bonds of friendship had been forged strong by the shared hardships. The men did the rounds of thanking the officers and crew. The trunks and cases had been hauled out of the hold, identified, and loaded on to lighters to be rowed ashore.
Mate gathered his family around him on the poop deck, Mrs Jessica Olsen, Douglas, and Matthew. They all hugged Little Jenny, who then went off with Mrs Merton and her husband, who was the first visitor allowed aboard. The boys were next over the side of the boat, being dropped into the arms of the waiting boatmen. Mate followed, helping his wife and they were all rowed ashore, excitedly travelling the two hundred yards into the beach, with gulls circled above, screeching and crying a raucous welcome. Not soon enough, the bow touched the beach and the boys were off and rolling around on the sand. With a broad smile, Mate stepped into the water and invited Jessica into his arms. He thus carried her proudly, like the new husband he was, symbolically across the threshold that spanned the old world and the new. She hung with her arms around his neck and spontaneously kissed him, as he lowered her to her feet.
This was of great interest to the spectators, for overt displays of affection in public were not generally seen in these times. Even the boatmen let out a cheer and raised their hats as Mr and Mrs Olsen walked hand in hand up the beach. Other passengers disgorged from lighters and were standing around aimlessly, as if suddenly cast ashore on a desert island, but Mate led his family confidently down the first rutted street.
The boys eagerly ran ahead and around a corner, momentarily out of sight, while Mate pointed out things of interest to his wife. As they too rounded the corner, they walked heavily into the two boys, standing stock still, rigid, their mouths dropped wide open. Jessica’s hand flew to her mouth and she barely managed to stifle a scream.
Walking towards them was a spectacle that nothing could have prepared them for. There before them was a tall, elderly Maori man. His face and legs were covered in tattoos, deeply scarring his body in whorls and weird patterns. His only clothing was a flax mat, while two seagull feathers adorned the top knot in his greased hair. He was barefoot and carried a long spear and was striding towards them, now only a few feet away. His face appeared to be lost in thought and he had barely noticed the boys.
On seeing the family he too abruptly stopped, expressionless. He glared, or appeared to do so, for his countenance was severely stern. It was an impasse. Then to everyone’s surprise, he suddenly cried out in an expression of real warmth.
“Kia ora, Mate, tena kuia,
tena kuia… My friend, you have come back, as you promised. I am delighted to see you again, Mate - it is you.”
He came forward and grasped Mate by the shoulders, looking deep in his eyes. Then they touched noses, a hongi, with an intense feeling of mutual respect.
“Yes, chief Rewa, I am back. It is good to see you again, my friend. Rewa, I want you to meet my wife and family,” and he introduced them by name.
“How do you do?” asked Rewa, in very good English.
“Your English has improved, Rewa,” said Mate.
“But how is your Maori?”
“Not very good, my friend, not enough practice, I’m afraid. And Kina? He is fine and healthy?”
“Ai kapi - yes.”
Mate told Rewa that they wanted to settle now in New Zealand. They spoke in a mixture of Maori and English, before wishing haere-ra and walking on. Of course, everyone by now was agog, Jessica getting in the question first.
“Who was that man, Mr Olsen?”
“Ah, that is Rewa, a major chief of the Nga-Puhi people who owned all the land around here before the white man came.”
“And how do you know him?”
“Well, his son Kina nearly died with chicken pox and pneumonia. I took care of him for three days and the whaler ship I was on left without me, so I lived in the village for four weeks till I managed to get another boat.”
As they made their way along the street to the back of the Duke of Marlborough Hotel, everyone was now talking, for this land already held more excitement than they ever imagined. The rude outhouse was bare of any furnishings, save two oil lamps on rough sawn shelves. An earth floor, timber walls and a thatched roof to keep out the worst of the weather was all there was to offer, but no one complained. To finally be off the boat and living on land was a great adventure in itself
POSH Page 14