by Joanna Orwin
Jean consoled him. ‘At least you tried, and they seem fast friends with us as a result.’
Before the Frenchmen had finished an excellent meal of fish and oysters, shared with their visitors, Jean spotted a large canoe being paddled towards them, just outside the breaker line. It was a remarkable sight, propelled at great speed through the water by close to a hundred men, all wielding their paddles in unison as they responded with deep grunts to the sonorous call of the fugleman pacing up and down in the centre of the canoe. Streamers flew from a tall, carved stern post, and the bow was adorned with a grotesquely carved figure with the long, sinuous protruding tongue the Naturals seemed to favour in their carvings. Standing in the bow, staring straight ahead, was a chief clad in one of the most magnificent dogskin cloaks André had yet seen.
Somewhat nervous, the Frenchmen clambered to their feet as the paddlers turned the canoe and brought it ashore on the crest of a breaking wave as neatly as any of their own boatmen. The Naturals left them to rush down to greet the occupants of the canoe, shouting cries of welcome. As the chief and his men came ashore, surrounded by a clamouring crowd, the Frenchmen instinctively drew together, the soldiers with their muskets ready by their sides.
‘I’m glad we had time to get dressed,’ Jean muttered. ‘I’d not like to be caught naked by this lot.’
Monsieur Marion overheard. ‘Have you not yet learned that we receive nothing but friendliness from these people?’ He told the soldiers to put their muskets away. ‘Follow me. I’m confident this chief will treat us well.’
The chief, as handsome as his canoe, was indeed friendly. He did not seem surprised to see them, and André realized he must have known of their presence in Port Marion, over four leagues away. He watched as the chief came forward to greet Monsieur Marion, treating him as an equal. Before long, they were able to go and examine the large canoe closely, the chief obviously proud of it and willing to try to answer their questions.
‘Look at this hull—it’s entirely fashioned from one massive tree trunk!’ Monsieur Marion was excited.
They paced out the length of the canoe. It was all of sixty-seven feet long and over six feet wide, the largest they had seen. Superbly made, even the planking around its sides that raised the freeboard was finely carved and decorated with bunches of feathers.
‘Ask him where such trees can be found,’ Jean urged André.
The young ensign tried, with sign language and many gestures, not having the words to use. The chief seemed to understand and sent them off to explore a stand of trees not far inland. Although they found some fine timber, they came across nothing of a size to match the canoe or suitable for fashioning spars. Disappointed, and with evening drawing near, they returned to their longboat and bade the Zealanders farewell.
It was a long haul against a still-strong wind and wild sea. Darkness had long fallen before the weary explorers saw the welcome red glow from the braziers set to light them back to the ships.
Later, the ensigns joined the senior officers in the great cabin where Monsieur Marion had invited them for supper. Sipping a welcome glass of Burgundy, Jean said disconsolately, ‘That was a waste of time, sir. We’re no closer to finding a source of timber for the masts.’
Monsieur Marion did not agree. ‘You’re too quick to lose heart, Monsieur Roux. That canoe proves we’ll find suitable trees somewhere in the area.’
‘The chief definitely understood what we wanted, sir,’ André offered. ‘Word will get around.’
‘We’ll continue to search,’ said Monsieur Marion. He added with a glint in his eye. ‘Surely you don’t object to such excursions, Monsieur Roux? I had the distinct impression you were enjoying yourself. But if not, I can always assign you to shore duties.’
‘Mille pardons, sir,’ Jean said hastily. ‘It was indeed a fine opportunity to explore such beautiful country further. I’m merely impatient to restore our ships to good order.’
‘Your zeal does you proud, sir,’ observed Monsieur Crozet, who had been stuck on board all day supervising repairs to the ship, laid over on her side to give better access to her hull. ‘Tomorrow you can assist me.’
The second-in-command blandly ignored Jean’s anguished expression. He had more pressing matters on his mind. He turned to Monsieur Marion. ‘We’re having a bit of trouble with the savages. Twice today I caught them sneaking aboard and pilfering anything that wasn’t fastened down. Monsieur Le Corre’s having similar problems at the shore camp. I took the liberty of sending more soldiers to guard both the hospital tent and those huts where we’re storing our equipment.’
After the expedition leader had ascertained that only small trifles were being taken by the Zealanders, he said, ‘We must be careful not to over-react, gentlemen. All primitive peoples are great thieves, and to them we have much to envy. What’s more, these Naturals don’t have the same attitude to possessions as us, sharing everything communally.’
The second-in-command nodded patiently. ‘Indeed, sir. I take your point, but nevertheless I urge vigilance.’
‘D’accord.’ Monsieur Marion gave way graciously, but with strict instructions that no one was to retaliate. ‘Ensure anything of value is well-guarded night and day, both on the ships and ashore. Boost the shore guard to fifteen soldiers, Monsieur Crozet, and allocate two officers to supervise there from now on. Prevention’s better than punishment in my experience. I want no actions taken that risk our friendship with these people.’
Next day, much to Jean’s annoyance, the ensigns were indeed put to work overseeing the ongoing work of repairing the Mascarin’s foreparts, with the ship again being laid over on her side. Later in the day, André was put in charge of the longboat to go and cut firewood along the shore of Marion Island and another island to the west, while Jean took the yawl to load casks of water from the stream. These mundane tasks occupied them for several days, until Monsieur Marion took pity and invited them to join him again, this time exploring the eastern bays of the harbour. The chief Te Kuri, now a frequent visitor to both the ships and the shore camp, had led him to believe they would find some good trees there, not far from his village.
Te Kuri’s village sprawled along the top of the large peninsula near where the ships were anchored, above a narrow isthmus linked to the mainland. It was the biggest village they had seen. As the longboat approached the cove below, André could see hundreds of its inhabitants lined up on the hill. Waving branches of greenery, they swayed back and forth, chanting some sort of chorus in response to wailing by the women. Several men came down to the beach to greet them, and insisted on carrying the officers ashore so they kept their feet dry. André’s bearer was an enormous man, heavily tattooed and ferocious-looking, but he was handled as gently as a baby, put down on the beach and carefully patted. Jean, already ashore, was watching. ‘This is the life, cousin!’ he called. ‘I don’t mind being treated like royalty.’
Monsieur Marion in particular was made a great fuss of, it being obvious the Zealanders now recognized him as the chief of the two ships. Escorted by their bearers, the Frenchmen climbed the hill to the village. The people lined up outside the entrance, women and children amongst them, were still singing and wailing, waving their greenery in a performance André thought must be quite exhausting. Te Kuri was waiting with his family and subordinate chiefs. As soon as the Frenchmen approached, a young warrior emerged from the ranks to grunt and prance in front of them in what they now knew to be a ritual challenge offered to important visitors like Monsieur Marion. When the challenger retreated, the chiefs came forward to greet them. The welcome chorus continued its din throughout the time it took for each of these chiefs to embrace the Frenchmen and press noses with them. Te Kuri made sure they understood that the young boy with him was his favoured son, a personable lad of about fourteen. At last the ceremonies were over. They were led into the village by an enthusiastic crowd, who constantly plucked at their clothing and examined their white skins.
André was relieved when t
hey were finally allowed to sit down on the parade ground outside the chief’s house to wait for food to be brought to them. The important men of the village sat with them while the women served small, freshly woven, sword-grass platters heaped with cooked fish wrapped in leaves, some sweet potato and quantities of dried fern root, which they now knew was the Zealanders’ staple food. Te Kape and Te Kuri’s son sat close beside the two ensigns and encouraged them to try everything. They tasted the fern root cautiously, spitting out the coarse fibres the way their companions showed them. André found the starchy paste somewhat bitter and drying in his mouth, but judging from the relish with which their hosts tackled it, he thought it must be an acquired taste. All around them, family groups were also preparing their morning meal, everyone taking turns to roast fern roots on their small fires, then beat them vigorously between two stones before chewing the result. The meal took a long time.
Jean shifted uncomfortably, his legs becoming cramped from sitting so long on the ground. ‘No wonder they eat so much of our ship’s biscuit,’ he said. ‘They’re accustomed to eating huge quantities.’
‘But none of them seem to get fat,’ said André. ‘This stuff must be healthy.’
‘It’s certainly monotonous.’ Jean grimaced as he struck a particularly bitter mouthful of fern root he was forced to spit out surreptitiously. The keen-eyed Te Kape saw him and laughed good-naturedly.
The interminable meal at last over, Te Kuri led them on a conducted tour of his village, allowing them to enter any building and hut they pleased. They were followed by a crowd of Zealanders, amongst whom Jean at last spotted a young woman who met his exacting standards of beauty. He nudged André. ‘Now she’s more like it, cousin,’ he hissed. ‘Look at her, she’s quite comely.’
The young woman was certainly less buxom than most of her companions, and her legs were well-shaped, if still somewhat grossly muscled as was typical of the Naturals. Her glossy black hair hung in waves on either side of her face, and her dark eyes were large and lustrous. Although her lips were painted or tattooed the usual black, both ensigns were now used to this and no longer found it unattractive. She quickly became aware of Jean’s interest. Ducking her head so that her hair hid her face, she seemed at first as shy as the young woman the ensigns had entertained on board the Mascarin. But André soon realized she was darting bright-eyed glances at his cousin and taking every opportunity to place herself in his view.
The layout of the village and its contents were similar to those of the heavily fortified village they had visited on Marion Island. Situated on a steep hill, it had palisades on one side only. Presumably Te Kuri felt secure enough. It had become obvious to the French officers that his status was the subject of envy in the area. Already some of the other chiefs who visited the ships had asked for their help in attacking him, and the Frenchmen had observed several small skirmishes much like the one in which Ballu had taken part. In Te Kuri’s presence, however, these same chiefs showed nothing but good fellowship—if not actual deference. Monsieur Thirion was intrigued by such evidence of political deviousness, but Monsieur Crozet considered the skirmishes were merely muscle-flexing, a bit of posturing. He pointed out that Te Kuri had more than enough warriors to ward off any serious challenge to his authority.
Once the Frenchmen had explored everything, Te Kuri indicated they should embark on the longboat once more so his men could take them to the promised forests of suitable trees. Jean’s young woman stood forlornly at the water’s edge until he blew her kisses and placed his hand over his heart. Then she laughed and turned away. Te Kape, in close attendance on the two ensigns, did not miss this interchange. He laughed also, then made it clear he was willing to arrange a meeting as soon as it suited Jean.
‘Excellent,’ said Jean, clapping him on the shoulder.
‘And what of Monsieur Marion’s embargo?’ asked André, grinning.
‘What of it?’ the senior ensign replied. ‘Surely I’d be insulting these savages’ notion of hospitality if I spurned her? Besides, I’ve every intention of being discreet—Monsieur Marion need not know about it.’ He gave his cousin a mock glare. ‘You, of course, will say nothing.’
‘But of course,’ said André, pretending indignation. ‘None of my business what you get up to when you’re off duty.’
Although the ravines they visited that day were indeed forested, they contained no trees tall enough for spars, much to Monsieur Marion’s chagrin. Back at the landing place, he pointed out the largest of the accompanying canoes, which was almost as fine as the one they had seen in the western harbour. Getting André to pace its length, he then indicated by many gestures that they needed trees of similar size. Te Kape, quick on the uptake once more, promised to take them to the very place they had obtained the tree for this canoe. He took them onto a hill from where they could see the entire harbour spread out below them, then pointed inland, south to forest growing on a high range of mountains that ran behind the port. ‘Apopo,’ he said, waving in that direction.
André knew what that meant. ‘He’ll take us there tomorrow, sir.’
Extract from the Te Kape manuscript, 1841
Te Kuri was ill-pleased by Mariou’s people setting up their houses on Moturua instead of near his own stronghold, since this action weakened his position as their host. Accordingly, when Ngati Pou chose to overlook the transgressions of the strangers from the sea, and, instead offered them lavish hospitality on that island, he saw this as a direct challenge to his mana, one that he could not afford to ignore.
Accordingly, when other chiefs from the wider district also began approaching te iwi o Mariou and receiving gifts from them, Te Kuri put aside his growing irritation at the uncouth behaviour of the strangers. He renewed his efforts to claim them for himself by offering them the freedom of his own stronghold on Orokawa, and, at the same time he frequently joined Mariou on board his ship and accompanied that principal chief of the strangers wherever he wished to go.
When it became clear that the gift Mariou desired most was tall trees to carry the stacked sails on his ships, Te Kuri sent me to lead Mariou’s people to the very place where we mark and set aside for many generations the most chiefly kauri trees for our descendants to make into war canoes. He was confident te iwi o Mariou would properly acknowledge such unprecedented generosity, thus upholding his mana and the associated wellbeing of our people.
Chapter 7
22–30 May 1772
Port Marion 35°15 ′ S
Reduced to awed silence, André and Jean stood with Monsieur Marion and Te Kape amongst the biggest trees they had ever seen. Some sort of cedar, their massive trunks, many feet in girth, scarcely tapered until they reached a circle of branches high above. André forgot his aching legs, muscles strained from trudging at least two leagues up and down never-ending hills from the bay where they had left the yawl. He forgot his wet breeches, stiff with mud from the fetid swamp they had traversed, sometimes wading up to their waists in ice-cold, black water. He forgot the itching discomfort of bites from the swarms of tiny gnats that besieged them. These trees had an almost regal presence, their trunks uncluttered by moss or clinging ferns. Nothing but some sort of fine-leaved sword-grass grew around their bases. In the dim, filtered forest light, they thrust up through the surrounding smaller trees like the columns of a Greek temple. Tentatively, he reached out and touched the trunk closest to him, fingering the hammered bronze scallops of its smooth bark.
‘These trunks must have a clean length of eighty feet at least, sir!’ Jean broke the silence. ‘Tailor-made for spars!’
‘Indeed, Monsieur Roux.’ The expedition leader nodded. ‘Some of these look tall enough to mast a seventy-four-gun ship. In all my travels, I’ve never seen such superb trees so well suited to our purposes.’
‘There’s one problem, sir,’ André ventured. ‘It’s going to be the devil’s own job getting them out of here—let alone cutting them down.’ He was reliving the more than four hours of hard physical effort it h
ad taken to reach the forest.
They were standing on the crest of a narrow ridge. The most suitable trees were rooted further down the steep slopes that plunged away on either side of them. Those closer to them on the ridge top were ideal for canoe hulls, certainly, but they were too large in girth for spars.
Jean peered over the edge of a precipice. ‘Pardieu, cousin!’ he exclaimed. ‘Trust you to bring us down to earth.’ He turned to Monsieur Marion. ‘Perhaps we should continue looking, sir—maybe find specimens that grow nearer the shore? André’s right. Getting trees out of here would be a Herculean task.’
Monsieur Marion shrugged. ‘This young Zealander has probably done his utmost to bring us to the most accessible and suitable trees. We can but hope we do find what we need closer to the sea.’
Buoyed up by their find, they made their way back to the coast. Although they explored every promising patch of woodland that still grew along the many streams meandering across the broad valley behind the bay, it became clear Te Kape had indeed done his best. The Zealanders had felled any suitable trees long since. They had no choice but to tackle the trees on the ridge in the forest far inland. Jean estimated it would take several weeks of hard labour. ‘We’ll have to form a road of sorts across those hills, then fill that swamp with fascines to provide dry footing before we can even begin to extract any spars.’
Monsieur Marion reminded them that the Zealanders had succeeded in getting out even larger trees for their canoes from the same inland forest. ‘You lack fortitude, gentlemen. Surely where Naturals can succeed, we’ll have no difficulty—or none that our superior technology won’t overcome.’ He added, ‘It’s not as though we’re pressed for time. With the Zealanders so willing to supply us with food, I see no reason to leave until our people are fully recovered and the ships in good shape. We’re well set up here. Even if it takes a month to extract these spars, it should not cause us any problem.’
