Mate spoke with a passing Maori boy and together they went off to bring the trunks up from the beach. These proved to be more than at first suspected, for Jessica had packed for two people emigrating to a new colonial life. Mate’s plans had also included provisioning for a hard existence and he had many tools. The whole morning was taken up with getting the trunks to the shed and the afternoon was spent by Jessica unpacking and trying to make sense of it all. There was barely room for the four of them and of course no table chairs or beds. Cooking would have to be done outside, under a lean-to shelter.
Mate took the boys with him and, by securing the services of a water boatman, returned to the ‘Nell Gwynn’. The Captain sat writing in his cabin but received them cordially. He seemed to have aged rapidly. His shoulders drooped more and under the tan his skin was sallow.
“Sir, you don’t look well,” Mate ventured.
“It is my own undoing.” The Captain would speak no more on the subject, though Mate was very aware of the disease inside the man. Mate knew there were ample spare hammocks in the holds and for one shilling each, he purchased ten of these. The boys fetched them up and Mate said adieu, not before noticing small spittles of blood on the Captain’s handkerchief. It saddened him as he actually liked the man, who had been a good and fair captain, despite his peculiarity.
Back in the hut, Jessica sacrificed some of her long dresses and made up beds on the earth floor, and her laughter and joy made her ‘boys’ all grin sheepishly. Mate then went off again alone, while the others tried to find a way to attach four hammocks to the walls. An hour later, Mate was back with a horse and cart, a very cheerful, whiskered old Maori and a load of sawn planks of varying sizes.
“Thank you, Henri; you are as good a man as ever.” The Maori laughed pleasantly.
“Haere-ra, Mate, you are never forgotten by our tribe.” He clicked at the horse and moved off down the street.
“Who was THAT man, and what now?” they all wanted to know.
“Brother of Rewa, Uncle to Kina, who will be the new leader of the tribe - and this timber, is to make a real bed. Children, go out and explore!” Without hesitation the two young ones bolted out the door, leaving the two adults alone together, for the very first time. Despite her efforts, Jessica even blushed.
She stood by the door, before gently closing it. The room was cool and nearly dark, only small shafts of sunlight filtering through the cracks. With nowhere to sit, the two just stood like shadows looking across the room at each other. The change in atmosphere was suddenly electric, charged with an energy unspoken. Jessica was the first to try to speak, but words would not come, only a soft croaking. Mate could see by the movement of her bodice she was breathing heavily. He crossed the room and slowly put his arms around her tiny waist.
She laid her hands on his arms and each of his muscles twitched as her hands passed up and over them. Very slowly she slid her hands up and around his neck. With loving gentleness she slowly pulled his head down to hers till their lips met. There was thunder, it was her heart; there was lightning, it was from his lips. There was passion and joy as she had never known possible. Between her legs a part of her spasmed and a feeling of completeness took over. She cried out and he broke the kiss, suddenly concerned.
“Oh darling husband, it is alright, I... I... please, kiss me again... please.”
The most incredible feeling in her loins didn’t come again, at least not then, but she recognised his hardness and his need. They both knew that the children would come bursting through the door at any moment and they could think of nowhere else to go.
“Make me a bed that only you and I will lie in,” she whispered and despite his discomfort, Mate could see it was the only way. He kissed her mouth, her neck, her chin and the open top of her blouse.
“Please - no further, Mr Olsen - I am powerless to stop you. I feel utterly exposed and I want you so badly, but... but...”
“I know,” he gave a sigh and reluctantly fetched his tools out from a crate. As he worked with hammer and saw, she stood in the light of the door, watching him. He in return had trouble concentrating on the job at hand. The material worn by pioneer women was by no stretch of the imagination sheer, but her shape was outlined and she was clearly the most desirable creature in the world. Her every movement seemed to arouse him more - until his hammer met his thumb. With a pained yell he danced around and swore and she laughed her musical laugh, until they were both laughing together.
“My poor Mr Olsen - here,” and she took the thumb and put it in her mouth. They stood together and he dared to place a hand on her breast. She made no resistance as his big hand gently massaged her nipple through the bodice. He felt her arousal under his thumb and her eyes closed. She nearly fainted, but instead took his sore thumb out of her mouth and kissed him on the lips again.
“Hurry up, Mr Olsen! I fear I will be too old by the time it happens.”
He set to at a will, dovetailing planks into horizontal beams that locked into four corner uprights. To the inner sides of the beams he nailed smaller timbers, creating a recess for planks to form a base. Jessica sewed up two hammocks, while Mate went foraging for bracken and fern, which together they stuffed into the mattress.
“Finished!” shouted Mate. He had just thrown Jessica laughing on to the bed, when the door burst open, with the impeccable timing that children have had all over the world, since time began. The children were unmoved by the bed but agog with what they had seen and done................
POSH 2 continues ---------
“POSH 2” is currently available as an e-book and in hard cover.
Order from www.poshbooks.co.nz
Other books by Brian k Holloway
The Scary Dragon Chronicles – twelve delightful short stories about a number of naughty but nice dragons.
Soon to be published; The Baby Boomer Story, One man’s experiences in life after 60 and the ten eventful years that followed. An inspiration to wear out before rusting out! Carpe diem!
Conflicting Historic Facts from Various Sources
In researching the accounts of the period to endeavour to maintain historic accuracy as much as possible, I apologise if the weights and measures are uncommon to those who have only grown up with metric, but it felt inappropriate to use these in an historic story. It was fun using again these weights and measures I grew up with. Already we are so accustomed to metric that I had to think twice to remember some of them. Oh, and a poor soul did die by castrating himself on a fence post. Sometimes history digs up some fascinating tit bits.
Ancestors reached through time with their diaries to help with the ship board life.
Bibliography
1812 Mate Olsen, born 1812. Married Jessica Hooks 12th November 1839 on migrant ship Nell Gwyn, Died 1852
1813 Jessica Destain/Hooks/Olsen, born Sept 25th 1813, age 25/26 when arrived New Zealand Married Mate Olsen 12th November, 1839 on board Nell Gwynn
1827 (Little) Jenny Hollows, born 1827, age 12 when on Nell Gwynn
1827 Matthew Hooper, born 18th November, 1827, age 12/13 when arrived New Zealand. Adopted by Olsens but kept his name
1829 Douglas Hooks, born 29th June, age 10 when arrived New Zealand
1830 Tommy Olsen, born 31st June, son of Mate in Sweden
Acknowledgements
William Satchell: Land of the Lost and The Greenstone Door for his inspiration to write.
A Dark Chapter in New Zealand History by James Hawthorne: an in-depth look at the new Government handling of Maoris, with Te Kooti and Hau Haus.
New Zealand historian, researcher, and author, Anthony G Flude’s well researched early history of Henderson and early Auckland: Journey to New Zealand Diary of an Immigrant
Carole Brown, nurse’s advocate, for her medical advice
Arthur Fell: A Colonist’s Voyage to New Zealand
From C W Vennell: The Brown Frontier, 1863 Boy on Grey Horse
I would like to recommend Janet Riddle of Whitianga and her book
Saltspray and Sawdust for Ngati-Hei history
My thanks to Rick McKinley for the cover, and to Kaila Colbin and Rod Brown and Greta Murrell, who all cheerfully destroyed my story and painstaking inched through it to make it better in every way, So many thanks to John Ormsby for his talent and fortitude with proof reading, and sincere thanks to Janne Falkner, librarian of Murchison, for her continuing belief in me.
And finally my thanks to the Rewa family and other good Maori people for their advice and assistance.
Notes on the Author
Brian K Holloway rides motorbikes, delivers yachts around the Pacific, sings badly, and lives in Auckland.
Born in Auckland in 1940, he claims his arrival started World War II but this is unfounded.
There is evidence he writes in a Hobbit House, breeds wild and beautiful monarch butterflies and drinks champagne and bourbon, though not at the same time of course. He sailed with the legendary Major Tilman to Iceland and Greenland, trekked in Tibet, talked with giant tortoises in Seychelles, and been around Cape Horn. And a few other things.
He was born a hundred years after the Treaty of Waitangi and his grandfather (a Matthew Hooper) owned three of the early sailing scows, which probably helped inject a little salt in his veins
This is his first historic adventure novel and he fervently hopes you will buy it and love it and make it into a best seller.
When he grows up he wants to try stunt flying on a Tiger Moth, be an engine driver, and keep adding to his bucket list.
POSH Page 15