Kiwi Wars (18 page)

‘Were you in the battle at Mahoetahi?’

‘Yes,’ admitted Jack, ‘I was.’

‘So was I. Several friends were killed. I swam across the river and went to Puketakauere.’

‘I’m sorry – for your friends, I mean.’

Potaka nodded gravely. ‘Did you lose a comrade?’

Jack shook his head. ‘No – no, in fact we lost only four men. Two regular soldiers and two volunteer militia.’

Potaka raised his eyebrows. ‘So few? We lost many men. Now, Captain, what do you want here? Your woman will visit you in your camp. You have no need to come chasing her into the bush, which is a dangerous place to be. If one of my men catches you, without me being there to stop it, he will try to kill you. It is best you stay there and she come to see you.’

‘It is you I came to see.’

‘Ah – then we must sit by a fire if we are to talk for very long. My bones will ache if I stand here in the cold wind.’

Jack was relieved when Potaka led him to the fire, which had been vacated by Amiri and the children, rather than to the charcoal fire pit, where his men were in the process of slaughtering the pig. Jack could not have spoken in front of the other men. What he had to say was only for the ears of Potaka.

Once they were sitting cross-legged on blankets before a restocked fire, Jack began the conversation.

‘You say many Maoris died in the battle the other day?’

‘Too many. We are few enough anyway.’

‘Very true. It would be better for all concerned if these wars were to end as soon as possible. I would wish to do all in my power to hasten that end.’

‘Go home to England.’

Jack smiled wryly. ‘Yes, that would of course end it all, but you and I know that’s not possible. The Treaty of Waitangi has been signed by all the chiefs . . .’

‘Not all.’

‘All right, not
all
the chiefs, but most of them – and certainly the important ones. The pakeha are here to stay and that’s a given fact, Potaka. They won’t leave now, ever. We must learn to live together on these beautiful islands which you call Aotearoa and we call New Zealand – were they not fish hooks which your divine demigod Maui raised up from the ocean floor? Something like that?’

Now Potaka smiled. ‘Something of that nature.’

‘Then your Polynesian ancestor, the great seafarer and Raiatean navigator Kupe, found them while chasing an octopus who had stolen his bait. He returned to his people and told them there were some beautiful islands which could be found by sailing to the left of the setting sun in November. A voyage of several thousand miles.’

‘I told you that story myself.’

‘They are wonderful tales, difficult to accept as fact, but nonetheless . . .’

‘Nonetheless, as real as the Garden of Eden and Adam and Eve.’

‘Granted.’ Jack cleared his throat and scratched his bare wrist-stump, which he rarely disguised with a false hand these days. ‘Potaka, the end of this war, these wars, is inevitable. The pakeha will win. We always win. In North America. In Australia. In India. It is sad but true. We have conquered and controlled nations of millions. The British are not the only Europeans to do so – the Spanish and Portuguese have taken all of South America, and the Dutch and French have taken lands too. If not the British, then some other European nation. Our weapons are superior, our military discipline and organization have been developed over centuries, and our numbers are immense. We might lose a battle, here and there, but in the end we always win the war. It is essential for the harmony of both our nations that we get on together. You and I must work towards that end.’

Potaka grimaced. ‘You want me to turn traitor.’

Jack sighed. ‘That’s an ugly word. What I think would be expedient – what I would like you to do – is for you to join with me in ensuring this war comes to an end quickly. Not just you. It is my desire, my fervent hope, that you might form a secret society of Maoris wishing to assist me in terminating a war that will only lead to more deaths.’

Potaka was silent. After a long while he finally spoke.

‘Captain, first the Taranaki tribes went to war against the pakeha. Now the Waikato tribes. You think if I spy for you I can help my people? I think not. You will be lucky if the Waikato tribes do not turn north and attack Auckland as I suggested they should. We will fight to the last man now that war has been declared.’

‘I don’t doubt your courage, not in the least. But is it worth it? Why all these deaths, just for . . . ?’

Jack could not finish the sentence. He had made a hole for himself.

‘Just for a
bit of land
?’ said Potaka, grimly.

Jack hung his head. ‘Something like that.’

‘I must tell you, Jack, that I would die a thousand times for the land which belongs to me.’

Jack acknowledged this, saying, ‘So would many farmers and landowners in Britain, but I have heard the 57th Regiment – we call them the Die-Hards – are on their way to New Zealand from India. They are very good at guerrilla fighting, Potaka. In India we had a rebellion, just like here, only there were many thousands of rebels, while here there are just a few. We put down that rebellion savagely. I’m not proud to be part of that, for I believe we went too far in our retaliation. There were horrible atrocities from which the so-called civilized British were not exempt. They did some bad things; we did some very bad things. I shudder to think the same thing might happen here. The trouble with war, an internal war, is that it escalates and individual horrors are tolerated. Insane thugs who would not normally be tolerated are let off the leash. God forbid we should have another Sepoy rebellion in New Zealand.’

Potaka said, stiffly, ‘We are good Christian warriors. We succour the wounded, and we do not torture our prisoners. We do not kill women and children.’

‘Not yet.’

‘Never. Listen, Captain, I will not do this thing you ask. I cannot do this thing. Please do not drive a stake into our friendship.’

Jack realized he was not going to get anywhere. He shrugged his shoulders and sighed again.

‘Well, I tried.’

‘Will you stay and share our Captain Cooker with us?’

‘No – I’m not that keen on wild pork, thanks, and I had better be getting back to my own people. Thank you for listening, Potaka. I respect your decision, though I believe it to be the wrong one.’

They now did a European thing: they shook hands.

Jack rode four hours back to camp to find a lieutenant sitting in a wicker chair on his veranda.

‘Can I help you?’ he asked.

The lieutenant, a young man with a rather large Roman nose, had been half-asleep and leapt out of the chair with alacrity, his feet getting tangled with his sword.

‘Oh, sir – you startled me.’

‘Well, I’m sorry for that, but you’re on my veranda and using my chair without invitation, Lieutenant.’

‘Baxter. Lieutenant Baxter, sir. Royal Artillery.’

‘So I see.’

‘You’re wanted, sir. Colonel Smith-Williams wishes to see you. He’s on the staff.’

‘I know he is. Is it immediate?’

The lieutenant sorted his feet out from his scabbard.

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Lead on, McDuff.’

‘Baxter, sir. Lieutenant Baxter.’

Jack rolled his eyes. ‘Lead, man, lead.’

The youth led Jack to a building on the edge of barracks, knocked and entered. In a moment he was back out again and ushering Jack inside. The captain found himself facing a huge colonel, who was not fat, but packed with big solid bones that were overladen with thick heavy muscle. He was like a rhino in uniform. This powerful beast of a man looked up from sorting some documents on his desk. His sausage fingers finding it difficult to hold the flimsy paper.

‘Bloody admin,’ he grumbled. ‘Wish I could burn most of it. Sit down, Captain. No, not that chair – it’s broken. It’s got a greenstick fracture in the near hind leg. Take the one next to the door. That’s it. Bring it over here, over to my left, my right ear’s gone. Deaf as a post that side. Field guns did for it when I was younger. Ah, yes, the missing hand. Crimea, eh? You’ve got a few scars too, round the face.’ The colonel seemed to have done his homework on Jack. ‘Now, you’re Captain Jack Crossman. Colonel Lovelace’s man? Yes? Good, good. Don’t want to reprimand the wrong fellah, do we? Could be two captains with only one hand. The army is quite proficient at producing cripples.’

‘Reprimand?’

‘Yes, ’fraid so, young man.’ The colonel was not much older than Jack, but he seemed to have assumed a paternal role. ‘I hear you’ve been rather indiscreet. In danger of being compromised, so I’m told.’

Jack feared his visits to Potaka had been observed.

‘I think I can explain. You see—’

The colonel’s hand came up. A massive appendage which blocked the light from the window.

‘I don’t want to hear any sordid details about what you do with your own cannon, Captain. I myself am a happily married man. I’m sure these
passions
which rule younger men like yourself are very difficult to manage. But control them, you must. How do you know this Maori woman isn’t a spy? Does she ask you things – you know – in the heat of the moment? It’s easy to blurt things out when you’re on the point of firing your weapon. Married I may be, but I know when my fuse has been lit it’s hard to deny a request.’ He chuckled. ‘My own dear Emily has extracted many a promise of an expensive gown just at the point when the ball’s on its way, travelling down the barrel.’

Jack’s heart sank. ‘How – how did you know about – about the Maori woman, sir?’

‘Told of course. Colonel Lovelace. Expects me to put a stop to it. Now, I can’t order you to stop seeing this native strumpet – well, I
can
, but I’m not going to. I expect you to look to your morals and begin behaving like a gentleman. Married man, ain’t you? Start behaving like one, is my advice to you, Captain. These licentious manners might be all right in the back alleys of London, but they won’t do for a British army officer. Lovelace mentioned your real family name is Kirk. Knew your father, by the way. Wonderful officer.’

Jack said, ‘He wasn’t licentious, of course.’

The sarcastic tone went right over the colonel’s head.

‘No, no. Very upright man, your pa.’

‘Which makes it quite strange that I’m his bastard.’

The colonel immediately sat up very straight in his chair, making it sway and creak with the sudden violent shift of eighteen stone.

‘What? Now don’t you become insolent with me, Captain. That kind of language is not fitting in the office of an artillery man, whatever you might think. Colonel Lovelace has left strict instructions that you are to cease these clandestine meetings with this woman – for your own good, and for the good of the army. If you should reveal any sensitive information you could be shot as a traitor. No matter if it did come out while you were firing that howitzer between your legs. Get your priorities right, sir, that’s my advice to you. Good morning.’

The colonel loved his euphemisms, that much was certain.

‘Good morning, Colonel.’

Jack left the man’s office seething. How dare Nathan do this to him? Why had Nathan not said something himself instead of humiliating Jack with this interview by a third person? Had Nathan wanted to punish Jack for his rejection of his future plans for him? Or did Nathan think that if he did the job himself, Jack would take less heed?

By spreading the story around, Jack was now bound to end the liaison. He suddenly realized Nathan had given him the excuse he needed to stop seeing Amiri. It was true that he had needed one. Well, Nathan had provided him with a coward’s way out of his entanglement. And no doubt his friend, the ruthless espionage colonel, was thinking, one day he’ll thank me for it.

Eleven

‘T
hat’s
Captain
Wynter to you,’ said Abe, in a friendly way of course, for he was speaking to a youthful naval officer. ‘I ’appen to be a commissioned officer in the Honourable Artillery Company.’

‘Oh, I didn’t know that,’ said the young man in blues standing before him. From his expression he might have added, ‘And less I care,’ but for the sake of civility was holding his tongue. ‘In that case, Captain Wynter, I have to inform you that we have a passenger on board our vessel without funds. He has informed the purser that you will pay the bill for his passage from Sydney, Australia.’

‘Does he now? Sounds a bit forward to my way of thinkin’. An’ you, sir, I take it, is the purser?’

‘I am indeed that very man.’

‘Well, I can tell you straight out,’ said Abe Wynter very slowly, twirling his cane, ‘that there’s about as much chance o’ that as an elephant saying “How’d y’do?’”

‘You have no intention of settling his debt?’

They were standing in the doorway of a coffee shop in New Plymouth, with passers-by glancing at them.

‘Can you whistle?’ asked Abe Wynter, then added rudely, ‘I’ve been in the navy meself and I know you salts whistle all the time. Well, you can whistle for your money, sir, that’s what you can do. Pipe the money aboard, why don’tcha?’

The young man straightened his back. ‘There’s no need to be offensive, Captain Wynter. I will inform the unfortunate Mr Strickland of your decision. He will likely rue your name from debtor’s prison, for that’s where he’s going if he doesn’t pay his charge. Good day, sir.’