by Joanna Orwin
They had just finished pitching the tent for the guard-post in the adjacent cove when the youth Te Kape came ashore with a chief, an older robust man whom he introduced as Maru, making it known that this chief came from the island’s fortified village. The two Zealanders repeatedly pointed in the direction of this village, which was over the hill and out of sight of the hospital camp.
‘They want us to visit them,’ said André.
‘Why not?’ Jean soon made up his mind. ‘We need to establish good relationships with that village, seeing it’s on the island. Your friend’s obviously happy to act as ambassador for us.’
At that moment, Te Kape spotted the longboat coming ashore with its first load of sick men for the newly erected hospital. He gaped, then broke into an alarmed babble of words. Before the ensigns could stop them, the two Naturals fled down the beach and swam out to their canoe, already being paddled rapidly away by its crew. As the bemused ensigns watched, the Zealanders and their canoe disappeared around the point without a backward glance.
‘Peste! What was all that about?’ asked the exasperated Jean. ‘I was looking forward to visiting that village.’
André nodded towards the scurvy sufferers being carried ashore. ‘I think they were put off,’ he said slowly, looking at the men’s awkwardly bent, stiffened limbs and ashen-grey faces distorted by protruding spotted gums.
‘You may be right,’ Jean agreed. ‘They’re certainly not a pretty sight.’
André shrugged away his own disappointment. ‘Nothing we can do about it now.’
‘Allons donc,’ said Jean robustly. ‘Nothing to stop us going after the savages by land.’ He pointed out a track leading up over the saddle that separated their cove from the neighbouring bay where the village was situated. ‘Let’s see if that takes us where we want to go.’
Accompanied by a couple of soldiers armed with muskets, the two ensigns set out. Although the track was well-formed, it was extremely narrow. As they climbed over the saddle, dense wind-shorn myrtle scrub pressed in on them at head height, and they were forced to walk in single file. Even then, the moss-clad track itself was a deep trough sunk into the clay, barely wide enough for them to put one foot after the other. André found it hard to keep his balance. It was still and quiet but for the hum of insects. The track twisted and dipped so he was unable to see what lay ahead. Beginning to feel claustrophobic, he was relieved when they emerged into the open at the head of the neighbouring bay. From here, the rocky promontory occupied by the fortified village looked even steeper and more difficult to access than it had from the ship.
‘Now what?’ André muttered as they hesitated at the foot of the path that led up to the village. ‘We can hardly charge on up there uninvited.’
‘We were invited,’ Jean pointed out. ‘Anyway, we’ve been seen.’
Above them, they could make out the heads of people peering over the palisades. Before long, Te Kape came down to join them, followed at a distance by several other youths. At first he seemed shy and not sure whether to greet them. André smiled at him, then said his name repeatedly until the young Zealander’s infectious grin re-emerged and he forgot his earlier fright. He clasped first André then Jean tightly and pressed noses with them. The others followed suit, the greetings taking some time. At last, Te Kape stepped back and beckoned the small party to follow him up to the village.
As narrow as the path through the scrub, the steep track soon had alarming drops on both sides. André placed his feet carefully, aware that a slip or stumble could result in serious injury or death. Whenever they came to places where the inhabitants had artificially steepened the terrain, Te Kape had to help him scramble up. Even Jean, more nimble than his cousin with his ungainly long legs, had to accept help from one of the Naturals. By the time they reached the village on the summit, both ensigns were out of breath, their calf muscles aching from the unaccustomed land-based exercise. They collapsed beside a ditch separating them from a stout, eight-foothigh palisade.
‘Pardieu,’ Jean muttered. ‘Even without these ramparts, the climb itself would wear out all but the fittest enemy.’
André was looking along the palisade. ‘I don’t think we’ve even reached the village yet—there’s no entrance that I can see.’
He was right. When they were sufficiently recovered, Te Kape led them along the edge of the ditch and behind what proved to be a separate rectangular fort, protected by palisades and ditches on all sides. Between this outworks and the village itself was a deep fosse or ditch, at least ten feet wide. On the far side of this, they had to crouch to enter a small gate in the village’s outer palisade, then edge their way along a narrow cliff path that skirted the base of the inner palisade towards a second, equally low, gate. André could feel sweat trickling down his back, and his legs were trembling with the effort of maintaining his balance. Above them, from a high platform raised well above this inner palisade, several men kept up a running commentary on their laborious progress. Even though their voices sounded good-natured, André felt exposed and vulnerable and was glad when they emerged onto open ground inside the palisade.
Two rows of thatched huts faced them, each accompanied by an open-sided shelter where André could see piles of blackened stones, fire pits and a stash of calabashes. Half-hidden in shadow near one of the huts, a small prick-eared dog raised a crinkled eyebrow at him, then subsided back into sleep. The ensign then spotted other dogs with fur in shades of brown or black and white. He nudged Jean and pointed them out. ‘That fur cloak you got from Tacoury—it’s fashioned from dog skins!’
‘Perhaps they breed them for that very purpose,’ his cousin commented. ‘We’ve not seen any sign of larger animals.’
Te Kape led them along a raised beaten-earth parade ground that extended the whole length of the village, its width varying according to the contours of the narrow ridge it straddled. Just ahead of them, several chiefs were sitting outside a larger building that occupied the centre of this parade ground. These chiefs watched them approach, then the one they recognized as Maru stood to greet them. After all the chiefs had embraced the Frenchmen, he indicated they were welcome to explore the village.
Accompanied by Te Kape and the chiefs, André and Jean first ventured inside the large building, past a weapons rack holding countless wooden spears. Inside the building, which seemed to be the senior chief’s house, they looked around curiously once their eyes adjusted to the gloom. Neatly arranged in stacks around the central house posts, they could see numerous weapons sorted by type: more wooden spears, some with carved points, some with bone inserts; long lances made of hardened wood; clubs or bludgeons; an array of axes or tomahawks made of stone; and various other implements, all of them fashioned from wood, bone or stone. Seeing their interest, the chiefs took examples of each weapon from its stack and demonstrated their use. They then conducted the ensigns to two other buildings that clearly served as storehouses, one for fishing equipment and one containing stacks of baskets and bundles of various foods and large calabashes filled with water.
André was somewhat unnerved. ‘These savages seem prepared for a siege.’
‘D’accord—you have to admire their industry,’ said Jean. ‘They’re certainly well set up. Even Monsieur Thirion couldn’t fault such orderly arrangements. What about those communal latrines? Did you notice how well placed they are, jutting out over the sea?’
André was thinking along other lines. ‘Maybe it’s not such a good thing having our sick men ashore on this island,’ he said slowly. ‘We could be leaving ourselves open to attack.’
‘Nothing here’s a match for our weapons,’ Jean was quick to scoff. ‘A few fusiliers could take out at least a hundred savages armed with spears. Anyway, if they’re planning to attack us, they’d hardly show us their defences so eagerly.’
‘You’re right, of course,’ said André, relaxing. ‘They’ve been nothing but friendly.’ He turned to Te Kape, who was standing at his elbow, listening with a smile on his fac
e, but clearly not understanding what they said. ‘Which house is yours?’ He gestured at the rows of huts and tapped the youth on the chest.
Te Kape took André by the arm and led him to the high platform at the entrance to the village. When they had both climbed up the notched post, the youth turned the ensign around until he was looking towards the mainland.
‘You live over there?’ André nodded. ‘Of course—Tacoury’s your chief, isn’t he, not Malou? I’d forgotten you come from the mainland.’
Extract from the Te Kape manuscript, 1841
Te iwi o Mariou proceeded to unload all their belongings from the ships and deposit them ashore on Moturua, where they built themselves houses and took over the dwellings and gardens of the people who tended the plantings there. They then landed many beings of such ghastly appearance that we first took them to be kehua, whose sickly presence sullied the land and made it unfit for people to use. All this they did without asking permission of Ngati Pou who were living on that island at that time. Accordingly, in the face of such desecration of the land, those people invited two subordinate chiefs from the ships to visit their stronghold on that island with the intention of demonstrating their strength and preparedness.
After such a friendly reception at the village, the ensigns were surprised to find on their return to the camp that the Naturals who lived there were packing up their belongings. The ensigns tried to indicate that the Frenchmen would stay on their side of the stream, with no intention of intruding. But the Zealanders took no notice. They brushed the hovering officers aside and carried all their things down to a small canoe drawn up on the beach. As soon as they had loaded everything, they paddled away.
‘But we took such good care not to provoke or interfere with them in any way.’ André was disconcerted. ‘Monsieur Marion will be angry—our instructions were clear.’
At the hospital camp in the neighbouring cove, Monsieur Thirion was equally nonplussed. ‘We gave them many presents as soon as we came ashore,’ he explained. ‘They seemed happy enough until we erected a tent for the officers in their cove, beside the guard-post.’
André looked at the cluster of tents and the pile of equipment building up on both beaches as the ship’s people laboured to lighten the Mascarin so they could start work on repairing her leaking forepart. The blacksmith was setting up his forge under one of the trees, and the cooper had already brought many bundles of staves ashore ready to reassemble the water casks. What with the sixty scurvy sufferers now housed in the large hospital tent, he could see why the inhabitants might have felt uneasy. ‘Perhaps they were intimidated by all this activity. It must seem as if we’re taking over, settling in like this.’
Jean decided there was no reason to dwell on the misunderstanding. ‘No matter, we mean them no harm, after all. Monsieur Marion can hardly blame us—what these savages choose to do is hardly our concern.’
When over the next few days, the Zealanders returned only to dig up the roots they had planted in their gardens and remove some building timber, the French officers realized this was perhaps to their advantage. It was easier not having to worry about the sensitivities of Naturals living so close by. Monsieur Crozet suggested they should use the abandoned huts to store the rigging, sails and rudders they had removed from the ships for maintenance and repair. ‘We might as well make use of such God-given facilities.’
A blast of wind hit the Mascarin’s longboat as they neared the westernmost cape of the harbour and became exposed to the open sea. The boat heeled sharply. As it plunged head-on into the steep waves, spray dashed against André’s face. Huddled beside Jean in the bow, he was soon drenched. In the stern sheets, Monsieur Marion unhurriedly trimmed the sails and adjusted their direction until the motion was more comfortable and they were no longer shipping so much water. ‘Are you happy to carry on, gentlemen?’ he shouted, his voice whipped away by the wind.
‘Pourquoi pas?’ replied Jean, his eyes gleaming in his wet face. ‘What’s a little wind, sir? Besides, we’re keen to see what’s around the corner.’
The expedition leader laughed. ‘Hang on then.’ It was not unusual for him to take the helm on such excursions to explore their environs, and he clearly relished this chance to test his own skills. Jean said this habit kept him in touch with the reality of life at sea, and the men admired him for occasionally setting aside the aloof role of captain. But their fellow ensign, the starchy Chevillard, predictably disapproved of such behaviour, believing it undermined Monsieur Marion’s authority. He had made excuses not to join them, muttering something about urgent inventories and accounts.
As they weathered the cape with its skirt of treacherous rocks and swirling currents, the expedition leader eased the sheets and turned the longboat towards the far western shore. With their lee gunwale almost awash, they surged onwards, the two ensigns whooping with exhilaration. Even Monsieur Marion had a grin on his face as he coaxed maximum speed from the heavy longboat. The unhappy soldiers delegated to accompany them clutched the gunwale and gritted their teeth, green with seasickness. André heard Thomas Ballu, the old sergeant-at-arms, mutter alternate curses and prayers under his breath.
Far behind them, the ensign saw the Castries’ yawl pitching in the head-on seas off the cape they had named the Cape of Currents. Even as he watched, he saw the yawl go about and run for shelter. ‘Monsieur du Clesmeur’s turned back, sir,’ he reported. True to form, he thought, the captain would be maintaining both his dignity and his customary caution.
‘His boat’s not as well suited as ours for these conditions.’ Monsieur Marion was diplomatic. ‘He’s wise not to risk being overturned.’
‘Wisdom hardly comes into it,’ Jean shouted directly into André’s ear, confident he could not be overheard over the boom of straining canvas and the thrum of taut stays. ‘That cowardly milksop’s wet behind the ears.’
As they crossed the mouth of the bay, endless ranks of still higher waves drove at them, and the wind increased to gale force. Encapsulated by the sound and fury of wind and water, even their robust longboat started to feel like a fragile cockleshell. The soldiers were forced to help the boatmen bail frantically as they shipped wave after wave. André was beginning to think the milksop’s caution had indeed been wise. In his opinion, it was only Monsieur Marion’s excellent seamanship that was keeping them out of serious difficulties. But neither his captain nor his equally risk-loving cousin was showing any sign of concern. André stifled his growing qualms, having no wish to be classed a coward like the captain of the Castries.
‘We’ll soon reach shelter on the far side of the bay,’ the expedition leader shouted reassuringly, as they shipped yet more water.
At last they gained some protection from a cape to the north of them. In less turbulent waters, they turned to run along the western coast of another huge harbour—if anything, even bigger than Port Marion. They negotiated a narrow passage behind an island, first passing close to a bank of curious rounded rocks banded in brown and black that lay like puddings in the sea. Beyond this island, they could see several other large inlets, but the seas were too rough for them to explore further in that direction.
When the sailing became easier, despite the need to negotiate frequent reefs and snags, the expedition leader handed the tiller over to Jean. He took up his eyeglass to scan the shoreline and the land beyond. ‘Keep your eyes peeled, Monsieur Tallec—somewhere in this magnificent countryside we’re bound to find timber large enough to re-mast the Castries.’
Although they cruised along the western coast for the rest of the morning, carefully examining any promising patch of woodland for tall trees, they found nothing suitable. Most of the land had been cleared of trees. Everywhere they looked, the slopes behind the coastline were either cultivated or lying fallow under a green swathe of bracken fern. Forest clad only a few gullies and the distant inland hills. As in Port Marion, fortified villages occupied many of the headlands and hilltops. At midday, cold from their wetting and hungry after a pr
e-dawn start, they decided to go ashore in a sheltered bay where two small undefended villages nestled on terraces behind the beach.
Almost before they had time to collect driftwood and light a good fire, Zealanders arrived from one of these villages, bringing them fresh fish. After the usual prolonged greetings and the exchange of gifts, the Naturals lingered nearby to watch the Frenchmen. Amidst excited exclamations from their visitors, André and Jean stripped to their drawers so they could drape their wet clothes on sticks to dry near the fire. The soldiers and the boatmen were too self-conscious to do likewise, and Monsieur Marion, in this at least, preferred to retain his dignity.
Leaving their companions to huddle around the fire, the two ensigns made their way along the beach to a rocky platform where they found many large oysters. When they started knocking the shellfish off the rocks, one of the Zealanders, who had followed them at a safe distance, came forward to offer them the use of a woven sack. André, feeling adventurous, tried out some of the words he was learning from Te Kape, now a frequent visitor on board the ship and at the shore camp on Marion Island.
‘Pi-pi?’ he said, holding out a handful of the oysters. ‘Carreca?’
The Natural beamed at him. He opened one of the oysters and slurped up the contents, smacking his lips, then gestured at André to do the same.
‘Fort bien, cousin,’ said Jean, impressed. ‘He definitely understood—what did you say?’
‘Nothing difficult,’ said André modestly. ‘I think it means “good oysters” or something like that.’
Encouraged, the Naturals now crowded around them, helping to pry oysters off the rocks until the sack was full. They then accompanied the ensigns back to the fire, constantly asking questions. André could make nothing of what they were saying, his momentary elation at being understood soon deflated.
