Captive Wife, The (24 page)

Many boats from the ship now headed towards the shore,
filled with red jackets and blue jackets, like a horde of parakeets flying the morning.

Among the crowd, word had gone out. Everyone was leaving Te Namu. Except me. I tried to stand but Mihingi pulled me down by the hair. Are you satisfied now? she said, or words that meant much the same, and kicked me in the stomach. She let me go, striding away from me, without a backward glance. I lay there long minutes, unable to move.

Behind me, I heard Louisa's cry. I picked myself up and ran back to the whare. When I picked her up, she touched my face with her little baby paws.

Outside, the crowd had melted away, spiriting themselves down the far cliffside towards the bush.

In a few minutes the place was empty. Louisa and I appeared to be alone. I would flee too, in whatever direction my feet would take me, as far away as I could go. I didn't know where to hide from the soldiers. I took some flax rope, lashed Louisa to my back and covered her with my cloaks.

As I prepared to leave, Waiariari and another man appeared in the doorway, each carrying a musket in one hand and a spear in the other, searching for those who might need help leaving the pa, like the old ones. The man with Waiariari raised his musket when he saw me, taking aim. Waiariari pushed it away with an impatient gesture, as if I wasn't worth the ammunition.

What are you doing here? he asked.

They would not take me.

He looked at me as if to say he didn't blame them. Come with me, he said.

Where are you taking me?

To Waimate, he said, which is where you were supposed to be all along.

I do not want to go.

You have said that once too often was his reply, and with that he poked me in the ribs with his spear. I backed away from him, Louisa on my back with her fingers clutching my hair, until I
came to the edge of the hill, where a gate had been opened. It was not the precipice but still it was steep, and when I stepped out, space opened up before me. Louisa and I tumbled down the hill, with Waiariari in pursuit.

Now will you come with me, he asked.

I followed him, humbly, for my life was in his hands. By now I was used to walking through bush though, if left alone, I would easily be swallowed in its green depths. Waiariari gave me no quarter as we glided through the trees, faster than I had ever made the journey. Before long, we came to Waimate.

I didn't know whether the people of Ngati Ruanui would give me up, or kill me, now that Oaoiti was dead. It was not clear why I had been brought here. Perhaps in the rush to get me away from Te Namu, nobody had had a chance to decide my fate. Or perhaps they thought I carried the seed of Oaoiti, and it must be saved. In which case, my days were numbered, because this was not true. My body was due to discharge its monthly cargo of blood.

Oaoiti's sisters were nowhere to be seen. I didn't dare ask after them, for I thought they would hate me now. I asked Waiariari if I might see John, but he shook his head. I thought he must be at Orangituapeka, beyond my reach. They would have known that I would want to find him. Later in the afternoon, Mihingi appeared at the pa. Wherever I went, she seemed close beside me watching me.

That night a fiery glow illuminated the sky to the north. People looked at each other uneasily. Why is it sunset so early? they asked one another. Heavy smoke drifted towards us, acrid and heavy with cinders. Word came that the soldiers had gone to
Te Namu and ransacked the pa. People from Te Namu, who had hidden in the bush for a night and day before fleeing, began arriving at Waimate seeking shelter, looking tired and desolate.

The men talked long into the night, each one getting up to make speeches, full of plans as to how they would kill the white men if they tried to land again.

Mihingi said to me: What will you do if the soldiers come here?

I want to stay, I said. For what else could I do? I couldn't leave John behind me. You're not wanted here, Mihingi said.

By now I had bled. People began to speak in hard, indifferent voices. Oaoiti was dead and I was his empty container. Soon, at best, I would become a slave.

But sooner or later the ships would go away, and they might let me see John again. He was only a little boy. Some day he would need me, even if he didn't think so now, and I would be gone. It passed through my mind, seeing the ships, that white men would come to live here, too, as they had at the whaling stations. And then John's life would change. When I thought of him, I saw in him his father Jacky Guard. There was the same shape to his head, the same way he stood as if ready to take on the world. And it was as if something that had been sleeping in me for months had awoken. When I closed my eyes, I could see my husband's face clearly for the first time since we had parted on the beach.

I was in the midst of great confusion. On the one hand, my old life beckoned. But if I was captured by the soldiers, I would have to give an account of myself. And there were no words to explain what had happened, certainly not to my husband. It would be better, I thought, to live as a slave than to face Jacky's unforgiving stare. I remembered the silence at Te Awaiti when Charley and I had talked together. It all came back, how I feared his silences, worse than blows. Yet all around me, I saw suspicious eyes. No longer Winter Woman, but the Woman Who Had Brought Trouble.

And more trouble soon came. At noon one day, the ships reappeared on the horizon. Within an hour, they lowered the boats. As they came towards us, hundreds of warriors from Waimate and Orangituapeka, and those who had come from Te Namu, now banded together at the top of the fortress, commencing a haka.

Waiariari came to me. Now you must decide whether you are for us or against us, he said.

What am I to do?

The women will go down to the shore and invite the men ashore. We know the white man, he is easily enticed by a woman. And you will go with them, with your daughter, and tell them it is safe.

And if I do not?

He shrugged. Who knows? Perhaps our spears will kill you as you wade through the water to the boats. Or you might die in the boats as we rain down fire upon the soldiers.

What if they will not come?

At least you will have tried.

But I am not needed here any more.

You are still worth a ransom. The people of Te Namu have lost everything, thanks to you.

I said that I would do it. I went down with Louisa to the throng of women on the beach, who began to dance and sing songs of welcome. The boats drew near, and I saw Jacky standing in the prow of a whaleboat. He looked directly at me, his face collected up in a pouch of anger. I saw no trace of gladness.

It's hard to recall the next part. As I had been instructed, I called out: Why don't you come ashore? We're all waiting for you.

But in the next moment, I began waving my arms, pointing the boats away from the beach. Go away, go away, I shouted, at the top of my voice. These words have come to haunt me. Some say they believed I was warning the soldiers to keep clear of the trap, others think I was letting them know I did not want to leave.

At that moment, I had no idea what I wanted. Though I didn't want to meet Jacky's stony stare, neither did I want to see him with a bullet through his heart.

The boats drew away. The men descended from the cliff. I couldn't tell what would happen next. There appeared to be a plan, the way the boats came and went, but it was impossible to follow. Something different would happen at the last moment of their approach. Perhaps it was just the weather.

Nobody paid me any attention now, except to throw occasional glances of scorn in my direction. An hour or more passed. A solitary boat approached. As it was clear this boat was not bent on war, the tribe held their fire. A man I later learnt was the surgeon helped a young man over the side.

It was Tia, the servant of Oaoiti.

He swam ashore, and the boat left. When the people recognised Tia, a cheer went up. He was embraced on every side, and inspected for wounds, but it was clear he was well.

When his welcome subsided, he told us that Oaoiti was alive and well on board the ship. At first, nobody believed him. But he described in detail the way the surgeon had tended Oaoiti's wounds and nursed him back to good health.

Turning to me, he said that if I would go back to the ship, Oaoiti would be sent ashore. Another boat was coming soon to fetch me.

That didn't happen that evening as the breakers rolled fiercely on the rocks. The boat drew away, and another night passed. For the moment I was safe from the tribe. But I knew I couldn't stay. That I would have to leave John behind. Either way, I was lost. When I heard that Oaoiti was alive I felt passionate joy, but I knew that, unless I first went out to the ship, he could not come ashore. We were to be exchanged, one for the other. We were each other's price.

The fires were stoked. The mountain gleamed with far-off reflected light. The debate raged on, speakers asking what should
be done with me, while the rest sat listening in a circle. Some said Oaoiti would want me to stay, while others saw, as I did, that he would not be allowed to leave the ship until I left the pa.

When dawn was near, Waiariari turned to the people, asking if they agreed to my release. In one voice they shouted: Let the woman go. Let the woman go.

In the morning, I was cast out.

The boats came again. Dark clouds crawled down the sky to meet the sea.

The first boat carried Oaoiti, dressed in European clothes. I had some time to observe him, for he stood in the thwarts and addressed the people of Ngati Ruanui, ranged along the beach. His words mostly washed over me, because I couldn't take my eyes off his appearance. A Scots cap was tilted over one eye and it might have looked rakish and appealing, were it not for the rest. Next to his skin, he wore his customary blanket. Over that was drawn a white shirt, the cuffs turned back at the wrists, and on top of that bulged an army jacket worn back to front, with all the buttons done up. I knew someone had done this to him, for he couldn't have buttoned the jacket like that without help. And I knew that, behind him, would be two shiploads of sniggering soldiers and sailors. Already, I could hear the sneers in their voices, as they persuaded him that this was the way to dress for style.

I tried to hear his words. I have been well treated on the ship, he was saying. I have gifts for you. If you put down your weapons I can come ashore.

The weapons were lowered and he was able to pass free. I don't think he saw me, until he was almost upon me. Then he looked startled, as if he hadn't expected to see me, or had overlooked the reason he was taken hostage. I can't believe he had forgotten us. He had been possessed by me.

And now, I suppose, he was not.

I will never know, for Louisa and I were pushed roughly into
a canoe which began paddling towards the
Alligator
, not waiting for the whaleboat.

I didn't look at Oaoiti again. As we passed each other, I averted my eyes. I remember this with shame. I could not acknowledge this man in his ridiculous costume.

As the canoe approached the ship, I heard the sound of fiddles playing a dance tune; I think it was a quadrille. I sensed an air of gaiety about the proceedings. Men lined the sides of the ship, watching my approach. The
Isabella
was hove to close by and ringing cheers and shouts of encouragement accompanied my progress from the men lining her decks as well. When I boarded the
Alligator
, a stampede like a haka rang on the decks, accompanied by whistling and clapping. I felt the men draw close to me and I realised that as Oaoiti's appearance would excite the tribe, I too was a novelty here, wearing my two cloaks and the long greenstone earring. Jacky walked towards me. It's hard to say what I expected — perhaps an embrace, or a hand to steady my arm, some smile of welcome.

He acknowledged me, as of course he must, in front of all those men. But there was dark rage seated behind his eyes. I understood, even before he had spoken, that already he was humiliated, first by the man who had left the ship, and then by my own wild appearance. I pushed my loose mane of hair behind my shoulder, and waited for him to speak.

Where is the boy? he said.

They wouldn't allow him to leave. They wouldn't let me have him.

The captain, whose name was Lambert, approached me, and shook me ceremoniously by the hand. My dear Mrs Guard, he said, welcome aboard. We are so very pleased to have you with us. You will find everyone on board anxious to make you comfortable, after so much suffering. You have had such terrible times. We have suffered for you.

Thank you, I said. I am well enough.

I saw him wince slightly. But you were attacked and injured.

I have been treated kindly, I said.

He shook his head in puzzlement. I wasn't sure what was expected of me.

Jacky was watching me. I thought, I cannot speak well of the clown they have just put ashore. He is already the subject of mirth.

I am sorry for the trouble I have caused you all, I said, choosing my words with care. I looked down at Louisa who was clinging to me like a little wretched monkey. My daughter has suffered a great deal. And then, as if to add substance to my words, I said, We look to God in times like this in order to gain strength.

I saw the look of relief in the captain's eyes. Dear Mrs Guard, he said, we must let you go below and recover yourself.

Jacky said, Some women's clothes were sent for you, in case you'd lost your own. You'll find them in the cabin below. With that, he turned away, leaving a young rating to show me the way.

I laid Louisa down in the bunk. Her cough had flared up again but she fell asleep straight away. I found three sets of clothes I usually stored in Sydney set out in the cabin drawers. I shook as I let the cloaks slide from my shoulders and stood naked in the room. I ran my hands down over my thighs, and, turning, saw myself full length in a mirror on the cabin door. I stared in astonishment.

You might not look at yourself in this manner, Adie. It is not done for women to take too great an interest in what lies beneath their stays. But now I was different and I lingered for a moment, before beginning my transformation back into a respectable woman. I touched myself everywhere, placing my hands beneath my breasts and feeling their weight in my hands, and then the dark secret place where pleasure hides. I cried out, once, and only once. If my husband had walked through the door then, all might have been well. But I had set the catch firmly in its place, and there were no footsteps in the passage.

I took up a petticoat and a brown woollen dress, which no longer fitted well, for I had lost weight in some places and filled
out in others. I covered my shoulders with a cream-coloured shawl. I wound my hair up in a knot and pushed in a comb to keep it in place. In the mirror, I saw a woman quite different from the one who had stood there before. A light had gone out in her eyes.

I didn't know what to do next. I might have stayed there, but I heard the sound of cannon fire, and the ship lurched in grinding jolts. I ran along the passage and made my way to the top deck. Another boat had been sent out to fetch John but had returned empty-handed.

This had taken place while I was changing. Baskets of gifts had been taken to the shore, but they had been accepted without John being given in exchange. I could have told them that. The interpreter, a man called Battersby, who I was yet to meet, had told Lambert the tribe were a treacherous bunch. Soon afterwards, a musket had been fired from the shore.

They will not find him, I said to a man who stood beside me. This was the surgeon, Mr Barrett Marshall, who would become such an eager friend in the following days.

Really, he said, his eyes glowing moistly behind his spectacles. Do explain, Mrs Guard, I am so anxious to learn your opinion of these matters. Nobody can have such first-hand experience of the natives and their way of thinking as you. Why, yours is a truly remarkable experience.

Indeed, I said, casting my eyes down.

You will be relieved to be free of your captivity.

Yes, I said, in the same humble tone. How could I tell him that in captivity I had thought myself free, and that in freedom I already felt myself captive again.

Jacky walked over to me, ignoring the surgeon. I could see they were not friends. They would not hand him over, he said. The traitorous bastards, we have given up their chief.