The Spanish Helmet

by Greg Scowen

  Snap out of it Matt, she has to decide to come first. Just enjoy the bloody kiss.

  And he did.

  * * *

  With dinner out of the way, and a good dinner it was too, it was time to go back to Otakau Marae and see if they could find someone to talk too. Matt led the way to the marae’s buildings and could fairly quickly see that there was no one about.

  ‘Let’s try that house again. Maybe someone is home and they can help,’ he suggested.

  They walked the few steps to the neighbouring green weatherboard house and knocked on the door. There were sounds of movement, banging, and the shuffling of feet. They waited. Eventually, the door was opened by a beautiful old Maori woman. She stood a good forty centimetres shorter than Matthew. Yet she had the look of someone that could run rings around the best of them.

  ‘Good evening,’ Matthew said. ‘I hope we aren’t disturbing you.’

  ‘What are you lot doing here?’ The woman asked, her voice impatient and angry. ‘It isn’t even Saturday for God’s sakes. How many times do I have to tell you religious lot that I ain’t interested?’

  The door was closing in a swift movement. Aimee blurted out her words just before it met the frame.

  ‘We aren’t religious, we’re interested in the marae!’

  The door opened slightly.

  ‘The marae, you say?’

  ‘Yes,’ Aimee said. ‘I’m from Auckland and my friend is British. We saw the beautiful marae on our way out to the Albatross place and just had to ask about it.’

  The door opened fully.

  ‘Why didn’t you say so? Come in, come in.’ She stood aside and waved her arm to show them into the hall. ‘Why didn’t you stop by earlier? More light, you would have seen more when I give you the tour.’

  ‘You’ll give us a tour?’ Matt said, trying to sound like an excited tourist, but most likely failing miserably. ‘That’s great, thanks.’

  ‘We tried, but no one was home.’ Aimee answered.

  ‘I was here all day,’ the lady said, looking confused. ‘Oh... it must have been when I was up the back picking wild berries for my pudding. My name’s May, anyway.’

  The introduction round followed and small talk about a holiday in New Zealand was discussed. It seemed they were going along with this plot. Maybe Aimee figured it would go down better with May if they don’t mention their real reason for interest in the marae.

  ‘You best come and have a look around the place before it starts getting dark,’ May said, leading them out of the house.

  The tour was thorough. May knew every part of the marae as if she was born there. Turned out she was. During the next hour they learned about the meaning of the carvings on the church and the meeting house. They looked at a blue stone in the church wall and heard how it had been removed from the first white man’s house of the area. Aimee was interested to hear that the Treaty of Waitangi was signed by two of the local chiefs on a ship just off-shore. Despite having not intended to get the grand tour, Matt thoroughly enjoyed it and was not at all impatient to get to the point of their visit. But when the opportunity presented itself, he jumped for the chance.

  ‘You said the first building on the marae was the old church, and that it was built in 1864. Did your people live on the peninsula before then?’

  ‘Of course, there was many villages all over Muaupoko, our name for the peninsula.’

  ‘Was everyone who lived among you from just your tribe? Or did different groups live together?’

  ‘What do you mean exactly?’ May asked, looking a little more serious now.

  ‘We heard from some Kaumatua that there were stories of white people living on Muaupoko long before Cook arrived,’ Aimee answered. She managed to be tactful even with that information.

  May laughed. ‘Oh, them, that wasn’t on Muaupoko.’

  ‘It wasn’t?’ Matt was shattered.

  ‘Nah.’ She laughed again and pointed over Matt’s shoulder, towards the harbour. ‘That was over there, over past Port Chalmers, down at Murdering Beach.’

  ‘Murdering Beach? Who was murdered?’

  ‘Some Pakehas, back in the early 1800s. They were sealers.

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘They’re not your Pakehas though. The ones you’re on about are the ones from way back. I know the story well. Koro told me all about them. They must have been there too, cause Koro never lied.’

  ‘Koro?’ Matt asked, feeling dumber every minute.

  ‘Grandfather,’ Aimee answered, garnering a smile from May. ‘And they had a cave there? We heard that they married into the tribe and all.’

  ‘Don’t know anything about a cave,’ May said, looking curious. ‘Why are you so interested?’

  ‘Just fascinated,’ Matt answered, half truthfully. He was fascinated. He could see that May wasn’t someone to lie, she really didn’t know anything about a cave. But Matawai and Andrew were sure about that part of the history, just their location was wrong. Now, with the two pieces of information, Matt really felt like he had something to go on. Tomorrow, they would go and find this Murdering Beach and they would search for the cave. Who knew what adventure the new day could bring?

  CHAPTER

  43

  Hemi decided that Warren had broken his promise. Despite being on the lookout all day, Hemi hadn’t seen Warren anywhere as he trotted around all over the Otago Peninsula in the wake of Matt and Aimee. He had only been back in his motel room for about ten minutes when there was a knock on his door. He walked over to the peephole and peered through. Bastard keeps his word, Hemi thought as he opened the door and greeted Warren. The two of them sat at the little two-seat breakfast table and exchanged stares. Warren spoke first.

  ‘I’m a bit disappointed with your work, but we’re not going to let that get in the way of our mission. Tomorrow we’ll follow Matthew Cameron together.’

  ‘No problem’ Hemi answered, caught off-guard by Warren’s friendliness.

  ‘Do you know where they’re going?’

  ‘They questioned a local woman over at the Otakau Marae today. She mentioned Murdering Beach to them. According to the information I got from her after they left, they had been particularly interested in finding a cave over there.’

  ‘A cave, huh? Doesn’t really strike up images of Spanish. Maybe of cave-dwelling Celts though.’

  Hemi thought he detected a twinge of amusement in Warren’s voice.

  ‘Ah yeah, anything’s possible I guess.’ he said. Anything to keep his thoughts away from the Spanish investigation. Warren seemed to really hate the whole scenario any time it went down that road.

  ‘I don’t expect they will head out there tonight though,’ Warren said. ‘So we can settle for a quiet film or something and then we’ll track them from a little bit behind in the morning. Unlike you, I don’t want them to know we’re following them until the time is right.’

  ‘Alright,’ Hemi answered, feeling a little uncomfortable about sitting down for a film with the man responsible for his father’s death. But if he could discover anything incriminating about Warren, it would be worth it. ‘Should I go get us a feed? Some KFC sound good to you?’

  ‘KFC will be perfect, my shout though.’

  Hemi watched as Warren pulled his jacket back slightly, reaching in to take his wallet from the inside pocket. In doing so, Warren inadvertently gave Hemi a clear look at the concealed handgun that he was carrying. Hemi did a double-take. He looked at Warren’s eyes, they weren’t watching him. Hemi decided that Warren didn’t know he had seen the gun. That was lucky. Warren continued to take thirty dollars out of his wallet and pass it to Hemi, asking for a Works Burger, chips, and gravy. Hemi confirmed the order and went into the bedroom to grab his keys and the bathroom for a quick piss. He used the opportunity to collect his thoughts.

  Shit. The bastard’s got a gun. This situation is getting way out of hand. What if he intends to use it? I need to warn them. Hemi washed his hands. He wanted to wash his hands of Warren
too. He would. He had too. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would sort this situation out once and for all.

  ‘See you in a half hour or so,’ Hemi said as nonchalantly as possible, walking through the main room of the unit. The noise of the TV already filled the air. He closed the door behind him and got in the car. Right, KFC it is, but first things first. Hemi drove out of the motel car-park and about one hundred metres up the road before pulling over and parking again. He pulled his mobile from his pocket and dialled a number that he had never used before, the emergency line to the NISO.

  * * *

  Matt’s phone vibrated, causing his ass to lift two inches off the sofa. The ringing noise wasn’t so bad, but the vibration got him every bloody time. He checked the number that was displayed on the screen, but didn’t recognise it. Someone in New Zealand though, he shrugged at Aimee and accepted the call.

  ‘Matthew Cameron,’ he said.

  ‘Hi Matt!’

  ‘Oh, Warren. Hi, how are you?’ Matt blurted the words out in his excitement. He had completely forgotten to make contact for the last few days.

  ‘I’m good, mate. How are you going down there? Been to the beach? Enjoying sunny Nelson?’

  God, Matt had neglected Warren. He didn’t even know they weren’t in Nelson anymore.

  ‘Actually, the beach is kind of a no-go zone where we are.’ Matt said light-heartedly, hoping he wasn’t going to upset his friend by his interest in his father’s investigation. Oh God, you haven’t even told Warren about your father’s death.

  ‘Where are you then?’ Warren chuckled. ‘Invercargill?’

  ‘Not quite, but close enough. We’re in Dunedin.’

  ‘Dunedin! What on earth would inspire you to waste your time on that town?’

  ‘What? It’s beautiful. So far, if I had to choose somewhere to live in New Zealand, it would be a fight between Dunedin and Nelson.’

  ‘I’m just teasing. Us Aucklanders can’t admit to liking a place like Dunedin. So what’s going on there that warrants your attention?’

  Matt explained to Warren what had happened at his father’s house. Warren sounded interested and asked lots of questions and was even able to fill in a few details for Matt surrounding oral histories and the Spanish helmet. Then Matt broke the news about his father.

  ‘Bugger, I’m really sorry mate. Is there anything I can do? Are you coming back for the funeral?’

  ‘No, I’ll stay down here and keep looking into his work.’

  ‘That’s also honourable, Matthew. I’d have been blessed to have had a son like you. But God apparently didn’t have the same plans as me.’

  Matthew was touched by Warren’s words. A tear formed in the corner of his eye, but he was able to wipe it away before Aimee noticed.

  ‘Do you want me to go the funeral in your place? Pay your respects on your behalf?’

  ‘Would you do that, Warren?’

  ‘Sure, I’d do anything.’

  ‘That would be great. Thanks, it means a lot to me.’

  ‘Look, it’s no problem. You don’t even think on it, alright?’

  ‘OK,’ Matt answered.

  ‘So where will you go from here?’ Warren asked. ‘Have you got some more direction since you got to Dunedin?’

  ‘We sure have,’ Matt answered, happy to change the direction of the conversation back to the rumoured Spanish. He continued to tell Warren about the meetings with the Maori elders and on the marae, and how excited they were to have found what they think will be the location where there apparently were Spanish people settled long before Tasman or Cook came by. Warren sounded excited too. He even said he wished he could be there with them, exploring Murdering Beach, seeing if they could find the cave.

  ‘Will you call me as soon as you find the cave? Will you let me know if you find anything?’ Warren asked.

  ‘Of course I will,’ Matt answered. ‘You’ll be the first person to know.’

  ‘I’m very happy for you Matt. Sorry about your father, but happy that you’re having a successful time over here.’

  ‘Thanks Warren, and thanks for going to my father’s funeral. It’s real decent of you.’

  ‘I’ll hear from you tomorrow then?’

  ‘You will.’

  Matt said his goodbyes and ended the call. He looked over at Aimee who had quite obviously listened in.

  ‘That man amazes me,’ Matt said. ‘Even after I leave him in the lurch and go traipsing off with some other theory, he remains the most supportive person I have known in my life.’

  ‘More supportive than me?’ Aimee’s voice was teasing.

  Matt laughed. ‘OK... one of the most supportive people I have ever known.’

  ‘Let’s hope we have something exciting to call and tell him about tomorrow then.’ Aimee smiled.

  Matt nodded in agreement. There was hope. The way things had panned out for them so far had left Matt feeling optimistic. If they could find the cave tomorrow, and find some evidence there of a Spanish settlement, that would be the best phone call that Matt would ever make. He knew that his pride would be shared by Warren and Aimee. If he could make that call, Matt’s life would change forever.

  CHAPTER

  44

  Sunday, February 6, 1527

  The San Lesmes is fully repaired and again sea-worthy. She sits on our makeshift dry dock/launch ramp, awaiting her first visit back to the salty waters since almost three months. We, however, are not ready to leave. The people of our village have made us feel so at home that departing from them to attempt a fool-hardy return to Spain is far from our minds. Rather, we will stay here and establish a church and explore these lands. When we are fully settled here, some of us will return to Spain with news of the new colony and bring back more settlers. That is, assuming that we aren’t first joined by further Spanish explorers.

  I have been learning the Waitaha language from Hine, the daughter of the chief. Her name also means girl. I have since learned that her father’s name, Tane, is the word for man. But not all the villagers are so simply named. Many of the names are very hard to pronounce.

  Hine is very patient with me, and she too has been a good student, picking up our own Español with flair. Hardly a minute of waking time goes by without her at my side. I wouldn’t choose it any other way. Some of the hunters from the village look at me a little oddly, but Tane just laughs it off, saying that Hine only has eyes for me now. It amazes me how welcomed we have been. They treat us almost like Gods and we have been given many gifts of the fine jade which the majority of the villagers are involved in working.

  Some of the other men have taken women. Two have married into the tribe. They have no intention of ever leaving. I wonder if the same could happen to me, such is the peacefulness of this place. I can imagine a life here, with Hine at my side. But I would also love to take her to my Spain, to show her a world like she cannot imagine.

  CHAPTER

  45

  Matthew felt like he was getting close. He manoeuvred the car up a narrow winding road, leaving the village of Port Chalmers behind them. They passed a memorial anchor by a lookout that watched over the wharfs below them, and continued to climb up through gorse-covered farmland. As they passed a forest on their left, Matthew stole a glance over his right shoulder at the view over the Otago Peninsula that ran parallel to this side of the harbour.

  ‘Sure is a stunning place.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Aimee said. ‘I actually feel a little stupid for never making it to this part of the country before. We Aucklanders tend to make fun of places like Dunedin, but now that I’ve seen it, I may never go back to that rat-race.’

  Matt slowed the car as they approached a curve where the main road veered off to the right and a smaller gravel road continued straight on. Confirming that the sign pointed to Purakanui, Matt indicated left and continued straight on up the dusty road. Just over 1km later he slowed again as they approached another fork in the road.

  ‘He said to go straight,’ Aimee said, referring
to the man at the little Port Chalmers museum where they stopped for directions. ‘Not to continue to Purakanui, but rather to follow...’

  Matt saw papers shuffling out the corner of his eye.

  ‘...Heyward Point Rd.’

  Sure enough, the road to the right had a sign pointing to Heyward Point. Matt accelerated again and continued on the slightly narrower road. There was plenty of farming going on along here, and even a new ranch-like cluster of some lifestyle-type homes was under development. Matt got it though, the views were lovely. It just didn’t seem fitting that their destination had such a foreboding name. He saw the very narrow road leading off to the left and slowed to confirm the name of the road.

  ‘Murdering Beach Road.’ Matthew read aloud. ‘What do you know about this place?’

  ‘Only what May told us at the marae and a bit more info about it that I was able to scratch up in the museum back there.’

  Matthew glanced across as Aimee pulled a booklet out of her satchel. She started to read it.

  ‘Murdering Beach is named for events that happened here in 1817,’ she said. ‘A sealing Brig from Tasmania anchored in the small bay here and the captain and some others went ashore to barter for potatoes, having seen smoke rising from the bay. When they got ashore, they were surprised to be greeted by a white man.’

  ‘A Spanish descendant?’ asked Matt, with mock hope.

  ‘No.’ Aimee laughed. ‘Another Australian that had been left there a few months earlier.’

  ‘Go on.’

  Aimee continued to paraphrase the history she was reading. ‘It seems that partway through the trading a scream went up from the natives and they turned on the Australians and started attacking them. A few were killed on the beach, the captain... Captain Kelly... made it back to the ship with three other men. They were greeted by about 150 Maori who were trying to overthrow the ship. The chief was among them. Eventually the Maori were defeated, their chief killed, and the canoes destroyed. A lot of people died that day and no one is sure why the Maori suddenly attacked.’