“Where will he go, do you think,” said Hop Li. “Just run off into the bush? To the river? He has a waka in the river maybe?”
“I have an idea he might be headed for the Pa,” said Frank grimly. “I wish there was a way to alert Karira.”
“I’ll go there,” offered Hop Li. “What should I tell him?”
Frank shook his head. “I don’t know. We think Anahera might have a connection at the Pa, and it may be the chief’s wife. But we have no proof, just a suspicion. I’ll let the Armed Constabulary know. They can check to see if he’s at the Pa.”
Hop Li took a cloth and began dabbing Frank’s cut cheek with a cloth covered with carbolic acid.
“You’re hurt pretty bad,” he said. “When Price comes, you let the shawl boys go find the giant. You stay here.”
“I want to do something,” said Frank. “Are the Armed Constabulary still here? I thought they were in Ashhurst?”
“Those Irish were here this morning,” said Hop Li. “Wanting another card game. They’re back at the hotel.”
“They aren’t still looking for Sergeant Jackson’s killer, then?” asked Frank.
“They came back,” said Hop Li. “Have to protect someone. A porter. Why do they have protect a porter? He just carries bags.”
“Porter.” Said Frank, shocked. “My god, that must be Captain Porter. Anahera will be after him. That might explain what he was doing in the district in the first place. Killing Jackson and me was just luck on his part. I wonder how he knew Captain Porter would be here.”
“You better tell him,” said Hop Li, putting his cloth in the sink to be washed. “Captain Porter. He’ll be the next one.”
22
Captain Porter
Captain Porter was staying at the Oxford Hotel, on Terrace End, not far from the Square. Frank found him playing billiards with three men from the Armed Constabulary. His old commander greeted him warmly. He’d not changed much other than becoming greyer. He was a solidly built, upright man with a small pointed beard and faded blue eyes.
“Sergeant Hardy,” he said, shaking Frank’s hand, his grip as strong as ever. “Good to see you. What are you doing in these parts? I heard you’d left the Armed Constabulary after the Tito pursuit.” He gestured to one of the men to take his turn, and stood back from the table.
“I’m driving a mail coach now,” said Frank. “Less adventurous, but I’m my own boss and…”
“Interesting days, those, chasing after old Tito, weren’t they?” said Porter. “Good days, those were, good days. I loved the action. Spent time chasing Te Kooti as well, into the Urewas, in ‘70. I’d do that again without hesitation. Great adventures – cutting down the Hauhau, helping him see the error of his ways. My life is much duller now.”
“The Armed Constabulary have been looking for someone in this area,” said Frank. “Someone who calls himself Anahera, the…”
“Avenging Angel,” said Captain Porter. “I’m aware of the chap. Comes from up in my district. I live in Gisborne these days, at the northern end of Poverty Bay. That’s why the Constabulary are with me. Making sure this Avenging Angel, as he calls himself, doesn’t come for me while I’m at the Pathe day after tomorrow, or before then for that matter. I have a meeting with Hakopa, the chief at the Pa, I and two members of Parliament, to discuss land purchases in this area. We’re tidying up some of the waste land —Pasand such. I’m a land agent these days, you know Sergeant Hardy. Fighting days are over, unfortunately, as I said. Just fighting about who has the rights to land, and who doesn’t.”
Frank considered how to approach the topic of the beheadings. He did not wish to rouse Captain Porter’s ire with any kind of accusation. “The Avenging Angel has attacked me three times,” he said finally.
“Lucky to be alive then,” said Porter. “Why would he want to attack you? Or any of those he’s killed?”
“Something to do with my forage cap, I believe,” said Frank. “And by extension, something to do with the Die Hards, and I think….”
“Did he perform a haka for you at any point?” asked Captain Porter.
Frank nodded. “The third time he attacked me, he did the haka first. Gave me time to get to my weapon. Then tonight before he attacked me he muttered a few words of the haka. Scared me, which is what he intended no doubt.”
“It’s what he does,” said the captain. “He must do his damned dance before he kills you. One of the men who…” He paused and rubbed his chin. “Of course, it was one of the men who was under my command, in the Tito days. I hadn’t made the connection. The Angel did the haka for him but didn’t kill him. He was interrupted by a group of farmers. The poor man has been out of his mind ever since. Doesn’t even like to leave his house.”
“And the other men who were killed?” asked Frank.
“All ex Die Hards, now that I think of it,” said Porter. “You’re right. There’s a connection to Die Hards. What on earth is so terrible for him that he has to hunt us down and kill us?”
“He lost his cap,” said Frank. “One of the times he attacked me. It had the name Adams on the inside. Do you remember that name?”
Porter frowned. “I don’t think…no, it isn’t familiar to me.”
“I do,” said Frank. “Although he wasn’t a Die Hard at the time, I believe Adams was wearing the Die Hard forage cap. Do you remember during the pursuit we came across one of Whitmore’s men with a group of Arawa? One of our soldiers had decapitated an old warrior, a chief. He was about to go for the women and children and we came along and stopped him.”
“Ah,” said Captain Porter. “I remember that day well. He had the head in his hands and he was taking it back to Whitmore, if I remember correctly. I stopped him and the woman, the chief’s daughter I thought, grabbed the head and held it in her arms like a baby. Gave me nightmares, that image. What could have possessed her? You think this has something to do with that, do you? Just about a head? They took so many themselves.”
Frank nodded, not looking at the captain. “I’m not sure it’s got something to do with that day, but I have a strong feeling that it does. It has to be something – or someone – that he cares about strongly enough to kill so many people. Could it be the old warrior was a relative of his? His father, perhaps?”
The words Anahera had spoken when he tried to kill him came back to him and he corrected himself. “No, it was his brother, I think. It was a family word he said when he was trying to kill me. Teina, is it, for a brother? Perhaps the chief was his older brother.”
“The boys would have been his nephews then,” said the captain. “Or his great nephews.”
“The boys?” said Frank, staring at him.
Captain Porter looked away from Frank’s gaze. “I left Adams in charge, when you and I rode on.”
“I remember,” said Frank, noticing that the corporal’s name was now known to Porter. “He was supposed to escort them back to Wanganui, the women and the children—boys, were they? Did he take them with him to Wanganui? What happened to them?”
“He took the women back,” said Porter. “The Aroha wanted them, I believe. For slavery. I don’t approve, but it’s their way. And I thought as he was a white man he would protect her. I have no way of knowing that he didn’t. But the boys…”
“Surely Adams would not…” Frank stopped “What about the boys?”
“You must understand, Hardy,” said Captain Porter. “So much went on during that chase, on both sides. I don’t approve of taking the enemies’ heads, but they were taking ours. Took the head of your own brother, if I remember correctly.”
Frank nodded, his mouth too dry to speak.
“And the boys…the boys, well it’s hard to tell the difference between a child’s head and an adult one, after it’s been smoked over the fire. I believe the Aroha decapitated them, and Adams took them back to Whitmore for the bounty.”
Frank could hardly breathe. He stared at Porter and said nothing.
Porter put his hand on F
rank’s arm. “I’m sorry, I really am. But by the time I found out it was too late to do anything. And Adams wasn’t under my command, so I could do nothing to him.”
“How do you think Anahera found out what had happened?” said Frank, recovering his voice finally.
Captain Porter shrugged. “He was at the encampment when we cleared it, and after we took control he came back and went on a rampage, killing three of our men. We caught him and put him in prison. He’s been there ever since, but he escaped a few weeks ago.”
“The poor bastard,” said Frank. “I could see why he wanted to kill us.”
“He’ll be coming after me then,” said Captain Porter. “But my constables will kill him before he can raise a spear at me, I assure you.”
“He tried to kill me,” said Frank. “He would have succeeded if I’d been alone, but the cook from the Royal saved me, managed to stab the man in his belly. Don’t underestimate him.”
Captain Porter leaned back and looked at Frank critically. “The Chinaman saved you?” he said. “Should be ashamed of yourself, Hardy, letting yourself be saved by a Chinaman.”
Frank said nothing. He had heard this kind of sentiment expressed before. He was deeply in debt to Hop Li, and he knew it. “He may have killed another sergeant, a fellow Die Hard,” he said. “Sergeant Jackson, although he wasn’t ever part of the battle. But he had some clothing…”
“Most of my men were old Die Hards,” said Captain Porter. “Asked for them particularly, because they were such reliable chaps. There were Die Hard caps everywhere during the battle. He could have found one.”
“But one specifically with Adams’ name inside?” said Frank. “Something helped him make the connection. Or someone.”
He took off his cap and looked at it, the front with its embroidered insignia, Die Hard the 57th, the name attached to the regiment since the war against Napoleon, after a general had cried the phrase with his dying breath at the Battle of Albuera. “Sergeant Jackson wore a blouse with the same insignia. Anahera would know enough to recognize that.”
“That explains some other killings,” said Captain Porter. “I’m sure you’re correct. Sergeant Jackson was killed by Anahera, and not by this road crew chap, the one who hasn’t been found. He’s probably dead at the hands of the Angel as well. Maybe caught him in the act of doing away with Jackson.”
“How will you prevent an attack on your own person?” Frank asked. “At the Pa. Will you have the Armed Constabulary guard with you?”
Captain Porter shook his head.
“Not with me,” he said. “Outside the gates. They never let armed soldiers inside Pas. There’ll just be me and the two members of Parliament. And we won’t be armed.”
“And me then,” said Frank. I’ll be with you. They know me at the Pa. There’s also a Māori constable living there, Wiremu Karira, and he’ll help us keep an eye on you.”
Captain Porter nodded.
“Very good,” he said. “And I’ll have the Armed Constabulary surround the Pa from all sides, not let anyone in. I can summon them quickly with a whistle, if necessary. Have the Māori constable make a thorough check inside. That should cover it.”
“I’ll talk to Karira and meet you tomorrow outside the Pa.”
Frank shook hands with the captain and took his leave. The captain returned to his billiard game. Once outside the hotel, he leaned against the wooden slats of the verandah. He felt sick to his stomach. The women taken into sexual slavery, two small boys beheaded. It was too much for anyone to bear. Nothing he had suffered could hold a candle to it. Something was bothering him though, something Captain Porter had said. What was it?
Karira was waiting for him in the kitchen of the Royal Hotel.
“What’s happened?” Frank asked.
“Hakopa had one of his men following Moana,” said Karira. “Apparently he’s been suspicious of her for a while, and something I said to him made it worse. He suspected she was meeting another man. She’s confined to her quarters and he’s talking about sending her back to her family in Poverty Bay.”
“They saw her meeting another man?” asked Frank. “Did they see the man? Was it Anahera?”
“The lookout followed her to a clearing near the Pa and saw her meet another man. It sounds like Anahera, but he took off when he saw they were discovered, and the lookout didn’t give chase. So Anahera’s on the loose again and mobile. She had bandages with her, and some salve, which makes it probable it was Anahera. Hop Li told me what happened here tonight.”
“He’s here to kill the land agent Hakopa told you about,” said Frank. “The one who’s coming to meet with the Hakopa and the two members of Parliament.”
“Why would he want to kill a land agent?” asked Karira.
“Because the land agent is Captain Porter, my old commander. He’s killing people who were at Otauto with us.”
“Why?” said Karira.
“Captain Porter and I came upon a colonial soldier who had beheaded an enemy chief. We stopped him killing anyone else, but then we left. The man who did it was named Adams. I remembered where I’d heard it finally.”
“He assumed you took part, I suppose,” said Karira.
Frank nodded.
“And did you have any part in it at all?”
“I felt guilty,” said Frank. “Adams was after the bounty on the chief’s head and we were too late to stop him. But there was a woman – two women – and two small boys. I wanted to escort them back to Wanganui but Captain Porter forbad me. He was probably right to do so. We had so much to do that day. But the captain believes the boys were also decapitated after we left, and that the women were sold in to slavery, to be used by the men…”
“Could one of the women have been Moana?” said Karira.
“If she is I don’t remember her as being one. Although one of them I didn’t look at closely. The other one was beautiful, and she put her hands together and looked at me as if…” He was overcome with the emotion of it all, and stopped.
Karira looked at him, his eyes half-closed. “How does Anahera come into this? And how did he know Porter was coming here?” he asked eventually.
“I believe he’s a relative of the woman and the boys,” said Frank. “How Moana connects to her I don’t know. But she must have contacted him. They come from the same area, up in Poverty Bay. Te Kooti struck up there as well, when he massacred all those settlers up near Gisborne back in ‘72. Gisborne is a hot bed of dissent.”
“Is she involved in the murders, do you think?” asked Karira. “Why would she want to marry Hakopa? She wouldn’t know months in advance that Hakopa was going to be entertaining Captain Porter, would she?”
“I can’t tell you,” said Frank. “Perhaps she has a different reason for wanting him here.”
“What does Captain Porter say?” asked Hop Li. “Did he say when he’s meeting Hakopa?”
“He’s going to the Patomorrow,” said Frank. “And I want to be there to stop any attempt on his life by Anahera. The Armed Constabulary will also be there, but outside the gates. The iwi won’t allow armed soldiers into a Pa. I’ll enter with Captain Porter and the Members of Parliament.”
“No gun?” asked Hop Li.
Frank shook his head.
“No gun. But if an attack happens the Constabulary will be nearby and Captain Porter and I will do what we can until they get inside.”
“You’re too brave,” said Hop Li. “Why do you risk your life for this Captain Porter?”
“I’m not sure,” said Frank. “He didn’t do anything himself, and he was always an honourable man. But I’m not sure that Anahera doesn’t have the right of it, when all’s said and done. I’d prefer that he doesn’t get killed.” He saw Karira give him a puzzled look, but did not explain.
23
The Powhiri
The Armed Constabulary arrived at the Pa, surrounding the coach carrying Captain Porter, Mr. Johnston and Mr. Balance. The three men climbed down awkwardly and walked up
and down, stretching their legs. The men were dressed alike in dark suits with tails, and tall hats, with Captain Porter distinctive by his height and bearing. Frank had positioned himself at the bend where Anahera had performed the haka, pretending to be digging out a stone from Copenhagen’s front hoof with his Barlow knife, and keeping an eye open for anyone else arriving at the Pa; after coach and escort passed by, he climbed back on Copenhagen and followed them to the gates of the Pa.
Captain Porter greeted him, and they walked through the winding gateway. Behind them, the Armed Constabulary split into two groups and spread out from the entrance, leaving a man every fifty yards. Frank scanned the palisades and the grassy area inside the Pawalls.
In the distance, he could see the small greeting party, a group of young warriors waiting to perform the powhiri, the ceremonial greeting haka that Māori performed for visitors. It would be not unlike the haka that Anahera had done before he attacked, but more formal, with the violence obviously exaggerated. The leader would carry a taiaha, a ceremonial spear, which he would use to make threatening moves towards the group of visitors. Then he would lay down a small item in front of the visitors, and Captain Porter would pick it up to show that they came in peace.
“I’ve seen far too many of these damned greetings,” said Captain Porter as they stood waiting for the powhiri to commence. “I wish we could get right down to business.”
The powhiri group approached. As they did, they began the series of yells and stamps that Frank knew accompanied the challenge. They were almost in front of his group when a woman’s voice began intoning the Kananga, the greeting that called for the hapu to accept the visitors. Once the haka was finished they would be in the meeting house and safer. He kept his eyes on the perimeter, scanning for movement. Karira was standing guard inside the meeting house, making sure no one entered.
“That chap at the front is taking the whole thing very seriously,” said Captain Porter. “You’d think he intended to hurt us.” He moved forward and bent down to pick up a small carved tiki that the warrior had dropped at his feet.
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