The door opened and in came Reverend Henry Williams, the senior missionary, who generally resided at Paihia. He was accompanied by a gentleman stranger. There was a pause in the hubbub and all the children turned to look at them. The two men surveyed the many eyes with slight embarrassment, before Mr Williams addressed his wife.
‘My dear, this is Mr Charles Darwin, naturalist to The Beagle, Captain Fitzroy’s ship. They are in port.’
Mrs Williams held out her hand and laughed breathlessly. ‘I’m afraid you find us at a disadvantage, Mr Darwin, but it is the children’s Christmas party. Please join us.’
‘Enchanted, ma’am. It isn’t often that I get invited to a party.’
‘I think it is time for a pause, anyway. We’ve been playing games until I’m quite exhausted. Right children, I know Mrs Clarke has the feast prepared. To the kitchen,’ she ordered. ‘We will eat!’
There was a scramble for the door. Elizabeth was left sitting on a chair. Some of the adults, still talking, stood by the door.
‘Come along, Elizabeth,’ said Mr Clarke. ‘You’re not going to stay out here. You escort Mr Darwin through. We must go and help Martha with the ravenous hordes.’
Elizabeth brushed down her dress and stood up. She smiled shyly at the strange young man. He looked back with sharp, dark eyes under bristling brows. They stood for a moment in silence.
‘Are you having a pleasant voyage?’ she asked, having heard her mother ask that of visitors.
Mr Darwin smiled but answered equally politely. ‘A very interesting voyage, perhaps more interesting than pleasant, I should say. I find a great deal of scope for my work.’
‘What is a naturalist?’ said Elizabeth.
‘A naturalist studies animals, plants, rocks, hills. Anything that is natural, that is. Anything of nature, I should say.’
‘You must be very busy.’
‘Indeed,’ agreed Mr Darwin.
Walking carefully on her splint, Elizabeth led him through the hall and the dining room to the kitchen, where two large tables, placed end to end, were surrounded by children.
‘I must say that I have never seen a happier assemblage since I left England,’ said Mr Darwin. ‘Nor such a large collection of children.’
‘Yes, there are rather a lot of us,’ agreed Elizabeth. ‘But we don’t all live at Waimate. I’m from Kerikeri, so are the Edmonds and the Shepherds. We’re going back tomorrow, I hope.’
Mrs Clarke bustled up. ‘Now sit down here, Elizabeth, we’ve saved a place for you.’
What a feast they had. Sandwiches of ham, egg or cucumber. Then meat and chicken with salads. Followed by sponges and pastries. There were several large jugs of orange juice. And to finish, strawberries, fresh from the garden, with whipped cream.
Mr Darwin and Mr Williams stood behind Elizabeth’s chair.
‘I think that is the best meal I have had for four years,’ exclaimed Mr Darwin, licking the cream from his fingers. ‘Quite a change, I assure you, from ship’s biscuits and salted meat. And is it all grown here?’
‘Yes, we are extremely fortunate. Anything and everything seems to grow here,’ agreed Mr Williams. ‘We can show you round the gardens tomorrow. What else had you in mind to do?’
Mr Darwin expressed a wish to visit some local kauri trees, explaining that he had been told there were quite a few hereabout, there being none left near to the coast. Mr Williams agreed to take him there in the morning after attending a local committee meeting
Mr Darwin then suggested that he might arrange a game for the children in the morning. ‘I see there are several small patches of native bush nearby,’ he explained. ‘How would it be if I offered a small prize for the best collection of native plants? Just a spray of leaves, with a fruit or flower if available.’
His proposal was agreed upon and next morning the children gathered on the verandah to hear the rules and be sent on their way.
Elizabeth was left. She looked up shyly. ‘I hope you don’t mind if I don’t go. I couldn’t keep up,’ she explained.
‘Perhaps you could show me about?’ suggested Mr Darwin. ‘I should like very much to see the gardens.’
Elizabeth led him between the neat beds of vegetables and fruits. He seemed to get very excited when he saw the trusses of tomatoes and the size of the lettuces and cabbages.
‘I think I can honestly say, Elizabeth, that in all my travels I have never seen so many plants growing in such abundance. And so many kinds,’ he said. ‘It must be a magnificent growing climate. Imagine! turnips and oranges together; and cabbages and cucumbers. They would hardly believe it back in England.’
Elizabeth could see nothing remarkable in this collection, so kept quiet. Mr Darwin, however, had suddenly become very much alive and talkative. He darted about, peering under leaves. He picked off a caterpillar and watched it crawl over his hand. He bent and pulled several weeds from a patch of carrots and waved them towards Elizabeth.
‘Tut, tut,’ he muttered, shaking his head. ‘You’ll have to be careful. Gorse!’
Elizabeth felt almost guilty. ‘It’s from the hedge,’ she said.
‘Yes, I noticed. Could be a problem in this climate. I saw a patch of wild leeks over there; they looked far too happy. It’s very dangerous, you know, to remove things from their native habitat. Very dangerous — plants or animals.’
‘Is it?’
‘Yes, and we are the most dangerous of all. Remember that, Elizabeth. But I must admit I am tremendously impressed. It’s all very like England, isn’t it? Even oaks,’ he remarked, stopping beside a bed of striking acorns. ‘Imagine when these grow big, it will be just like England, won’t it?’ He waved his arm at the fields and hedges.
‘I don’t know, I’ve never been there.’
Mr Darwin stopped and looked at her. ‘Good gracious! No, I don’t suppose you have.’
‘Mama and Papa came from Norfolk,’ said Elizabeth.
‘Indeed! Lovely part of the country. I went to university not far from Norfolk, at a place called Cambridge.’
‘My brother, Henry, wrote about a visit there to see a professor of languages.’
‘I went there to study to be a minister in the church,’ said Mr Darwin with a rueful shake of his head. ‘Who knows, perhaps I might have become a missionary in New Zealand.’
‘Why did you become a naturalist instead?’ Elizabeth enquired.
‘Alas! Beetles led me astray.’
‘Beetles?’
‘Yes, I discovered the world of beetles — thousands of them. The good Lord must have been inordinately fond of beetles. Do you know, Elizabeth, there appear to be more varieties of beetle on this earth than of any other animal?’
‘Truly?’ She pondered a moment. ‘I can’t say that I’ve seen all that many here.’
He gave a cursory glance about him. ‘Well, neither have I, as yet — but they are no doubt here, hiding. In their thousands. All around us.’
‘Hiding?’ Elizabeth, looked about nervously.
‘Yes, hiding: burrowing in the earth, crawling under rocks, chewing on leaves, crouching in the clefts of bark. I have seen beetles diving in the depths of ponds, flying through the air, and once,’ he paused dramatically, ‘I saw some swimming in the sea, six miles from land. Is that not astounding?’
Elizabeth nodded her head in agreement, but Mr Darwin was not to be stopped.
‘Then,’ he continued, ‘in one day, in a country called Brazil, I discovered sixty-eight new species of beetle. In one day! How many would I have discovered in a week?’ He stood gazing up at the sky. ‘And how many more are there?’
Elizabeth could not decide whether he was addressing her or talking to himself – or even interrogating God. She decided to keep quiet.
Eventually he turned back to face her and in a lighter, bantering tone said, ‘And do you think, Elizabeth, that the good Lord cares less for them than he does for us few mortals?’
Before she could reply, and indeed she did not know what t
o reply, a sullen William appeared through the gate, kicking a stone along the path. She was glad to change the subject.
‘William, why aren’t you collecting plants for Mr Darwin?’
‘’Cause William Clarke pinched some of mine, that’s why. I’m not playing.’
Luckily a fantail chose that moment to come flitting into the garden. Mr Darwin swung round, following it with his eyes.
‘What a remarkable bird,’ he exclaimed.
The fantail obliged by skirting around him, swooping past his face, perching for a second on a nearby twig then spiralling up into the air, after an insect. At each movement of the bird, Mr Darwin followed. Together they turned about the garden, as though engaged in a solemn, twisting dance. He talked the whole time.
‘Do you note how he moves? To catch insects, I see. And how he has adapted his tail to change direction in mid air?’
The fantail, finished with his investigation, rose suddenly and flew over the hedge. Mr Darwin stood, gazing after it. ‘Remarkable tail! Eh, William?’
‘It’s a fantail,’ explained William.
Mr Darwin smiled. ‘And a very suitable name. The movement of its tail helps it to alter direction rapidly. It appears that over the centuries he has altered his tail to become a perfect aerial acrobat, in order to catch flies. D’you see?’
‘No,’ said William.
Mr Darwin sat down on a convenient wooden bench, placed there for a view across the valley. ‘I’m not sure that I see, myself,’ he said.
‘But birds don’t alter, they stay the same,’ said Elizabeth.
‘Yes, well they appear to,’ said Mr Darwin, half to himself. ‘Though, you know, I saw a great puzzle on our voyage over here. We called in at a group of islands — the Galapagos — on the way. There were some finches there, quite ordinary little birds, but the strange thing was that on each island of the group they had differently shaped beaks. They seemed to have altered them to suit the food supply available. Now how do you account for that?’
He gazed out over the valley, suddenly abstracted. ‘Yes, how do you account for that?’ he repeated.
‘Perhaps,’ said William, ‘after God made them he saw they were having difficulties getting enough to eat with their beaks, so he changed them.’
‘Something like that,’ said Mr Darwin vaguely, still gazing at the far hills. ‘Perhaps, possibly. Who knows? Some change their beaks, some their tails. Some even change colour to blend with their backgrounds. It’s all very odd.’
Elizabeth was confused by this strange man, one moment all vitality and eager curiosity, the next lapsing into long silences. At that moment he sat staring at the ground between his feet. He seemed to have forgotten that they were there.
William also, on his other side, appeared lost in thought. I’d like that,’ he said finally, turning his impish grin toward Mr Darwin.
‘What?’
‘To change colour. If I was a bird, I could turn blue to match the sky.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Why aren’t all birds blue then? And why are we pink? That doesn’t go with anything.’
Mr Darwin laughed. ‘I don’t think it’s quite that simple,’ he said, then sighed. ‘No, it’s not that simple. Why is it not that simple?’ He returned to staring at his feet. He looked so anxious and alone. Elizabeth felt a twinge of guilt that she was not a better companion. But what an absurd thing to look so worried about, the shape of a bird’s beak!
‘Mr Darwin, it doesn’t really matter, truly it doesn’t,’ she said on impulse, then felt silly.
He looked up and smiled wanly. ‘It does to me,’ he said.
They were interrupted by the sound of the garden gate being opened and shut. They turned to see Mr Williams coming along the path.
‘Meeting over,’ he announced, holding up a large bag. ‘I’m off to the market. I thought you might like to come. We hold it once a week to trade with the local Maoris.’
Mr Darwin leapt to his feet. ‘That sounds interesting. What do you trade?’
‘There’s little value in money here, it’s all done by barter.’
Mr Darwin turned apologetically to the children. ‘Please excuse me if I go with Mr Williams. I’m keen to see this barter,’ he explained.
‘Oh no! They come too, we couldn’t do it without them,’ said Mr Williams.
‘How’s that?’
‘They are our interpreters; we adults have learnt Maori but the children grew up with it. They are far quicker and understand it better.’ He turned to the children. ‘You don’t mind coming, do you? The others all seem to be away collecting plants for Mr Darwin.’
Elizabeth and William nodded in agreement and followed the men out of the garden, to where the market was held, in the open space between the house and the church.
Mrs Davis, the farm manager’s wife, was there already and looked relieved when she saw the children.
‘I see you have two helpers; can I borrow one?’ she asked. ‘I’m having a terrible time.’
William was dispatched to help her.
The men ambled around the square, looking at the goods neatly laid out on flax mats. Elizabeth followed them. Mr Williams made a few purchases, gaining corn and a couple of flax baskets in exchange for clothing and tobacco which seemed to be in demand.
One man asked for vegetable seeds and Mr Williams promised to get him some.
‘They prefer to buy them from us,’ he explained, ‘after some rascally sailor sold them dock seeds, saying they were tobacco seeds. They are still trying to get rid of the docks.’
‘That’s understandable then, but is tobacco any use to them either? You seem to do a lot of trade with that.’
‘Also introduced by the sailors, but it seems harmless if somewhat addictive.’
As if he had heard the conversation, an old man suddenly accosted Mr Williams. He held up a flax basket.
‘Kumara,’ he announced. He held out his other hand, palm up. ‘Tobacco?’
‘Aie,’ answered Mr Williams, burrowing into his bag and producing some tobacco. ‘Ask him if he would like some soap, too. He looks as though he needs it.’
‘E patai ana Wiremu pena e hiahia hopi ana koe?’ asked Elizabeth, relaying the enquiry.
‘Hopi?’ queried the old man, ‘He aha tena, hena homai kia kite ahau.’
‘He would like to see it,’ she explained
Mr Williams reached into his bag and produced some soap.
‘Aue tena mea!’ said the man with a look of disgust on his face. ‘Homai e koe tetahi i tera o haere nga mai. Tino kino te haware o taku mangai. Ka ruaki ahau. Hore ata he mea morikarika.’
‘He says he got some last time and it is terrible.’
‘Why is that?’
Elizabeth giggled. ‘He says it doesn’t taste too good.’
Both the men laughed, and the look of anger on the man’s face was plain to see.
‘He mahi kino te whaka hawea ite kaumatua, kanui taku rikarika.’
Elizabeth could see that his dignity was offended and roughly translated his words to the two men. ‘He says it is not a good thing to make fun of an old man.’
She attempted to make amends. ‘Kanui taku pouri hore kau koe I mohio tika e hara te hopi mo te kai. E ngari hei horoi kakahu, me te tinana kia pai te ma.’
‘What are you saying to him, Elizabeth?’
‘I am just telling him not to eat it, that it’s for washing. I think he was upset that you laughed at him.
The man, however, was not appeased. ‘Ka haere ahau kit e koukou i te awa me aku kakahu, kia ma ai ahau, me aku kakahu.’
‘He says he is clean, he washes in the river.’
Elizabeth could see that more placating was necessary. ‘Te pai ote hanga oto hāte, e ngari e paru ana te hanga,’ she said.
‘He hāte tawhito ke tenei,’ he thundered.
Elizabeth saw an opportunity. ‘Ma te hopi ka hou ano te hanga oto hāte,’ she pronounced. The old man laughed and turned away.
‘Elizabeth, would you pl
ease tell us what you are chattering about?’
‘I’m just telling him that soap would make his shirt look like new again.’
‘That’s hardly truthful, Elizabeth. Can’t you see that it is an old one.’
‘That’s just what he said!’ claimed Elizabeth with a grin.
Mr Williams picked up his bag and started to move on but William suddenly rushed up to Elizabeth and grabbed her by the skirt.
‘Come over here,’ he urged. ‘I can see the dray coming from Kerikeri, and Mrs Davis saw it too. We think Mama’s on it.’
Elizabeth looked where William was pointing. ‘It looks like it,’ she agreed. ‘It might be Papa, coming to collect us.’
They watched intently as the horse and dray came crawling up the hill. It disappeared behind patches of bush and folds of land but reappeared, each time a little larger and a little more distinct.
‘It is, that’s our horse,’ said William.
‘And Papa. But who’s with him? There are two, no, three other people. Do you think it could be Mama?’ said Elizabeth.
‘Come on, let’s go and see,’ said William, rushing off down the path towards the house.
Elizabeth took a few steps along the path then stopped and turned back. Mr Darwin was standing talking to Mr Williams. She felt she should apologize for leaving but nothing else seemed to matter at the moment except that her mother might be well again. Suddenly she had the sense that there was some hope in the world and that, given time, most things do come right, and most griefs are overcome. It was fleeting and hard to explain in words. She decided to carry on and apologize later.
CHAPTER 16
Elizabeth limped around the corner of the Clarkes’ house to find the dray drawn up at the front door. William had already scrambled up beside his mother to hug her.
Two men descended from the back. Elizabeth recognised one as Mr Nisbet but the second, younger one was unfamiliar, until he turned towards her. He grinned. ‘Lizzie!’
Lizzie, Love Page 9