by Joanna Orwin
Jean conceded the point, but added, ‘I’m not sure why you see it in his favour that he was so keen to seek glory of any sort that he tried to hide the fact we had smallpox on board.’
André had succeeded in forgetting their captain’s disgraceful attempt to conceal the two officers who had also fallen sick, hiding them in the ship’s hold during the inspection by the Dutch authorities at the Cape of Good Hope—besides, both Chevillard and Sub-Lieutenant de Vaudricourt had survived the illness. He tried to recover his position by saying, ‘The authorities were willing to overlook that, once the ship was placed in quarantine. Surely their help in provisioning us indicates they accepted the significance of Monsieur Marion’s expedition?’
Jean shrugged. ‘Maybe, but they might just have wanted to get rid of us as soon as possible!’ He grinned. ‘Mind you, I’d be the first to admit disappointment if we had turned back—and the last to criticize our captain’s zeal.’
The young ensign had to be content with that. There was no doubt the expedition leader’s zeal was keeping them busy. At least he was spared the tedious task of writing down Monsieur Marion’s meticulous observations—that fell to Chevillard in his role as clerk, but he was often set to work digging holes to assess the quality of the soil. Jean soon grew bored with these endless observations of dirt, sundry trees and nondescript bushes, finding excuses to deviate off into areas that supported a useful variety of game birds. But André relished the excursions, his own curiosity about the usefulness of whatever they came across as enthusiastic as his captain’s. Each time, they returned to the ship or shore camp laden with samples of soil, rock and plant material to examine and catalogue with Monsieur Thirion, whenever the surgeon took respite from his duties at the hospital camp.
Te Kape soon proved one of the most favoured guides for these expeditions, his sharp eye picking up tiny details the officers failed to notice. At times, the expedition leader had to exert rank over Monsieur Thirion, who was equally keen to employ the young Zealander’s services.
‘D’accord, sir, I bow to your prior claim,’ the surgeon conceded reluctantly. ‘I regret that my old legs prohibit me from accompanying you. If you would be so kind as to ensure the youth remembers to gather up any fungi or herbs of medicinal value, I’ll be well content.’
There were still plenty of occasions when the ensigns were left to their own devices. At such times, both André and Jean preferred to go ashore and visit Te Kuri’s village, where they always met up with Te Kape. The expedition leader commented tartly, ‘Odd how that youth’s unavailability for my inland excursions seems to coincide with your leave, Monsieur Tallec.’
André apologized, but Monsieur Marion waved him away. ‘I can always go fishing.’ Collecting oysters on the rocky headlands or casting the small seine net they carried on board was another favourite pastime of his, one encouraged by the surgeon, who considered it less taxing on his captain’s health.
Soon after anchoring off Marion Island, the expedition leader had relaxed his prohibition on the ship’s people spending time ashore in the various villages in the nearby bays. Many of the sailors had already struck up relationships with local women on board, and they now spent all their free time with them. Because of the precautions taken to ensure they knew how to distinguish which women were available, none of these liaisons caused any trouble with the Naturals, who seemed more than happy to make the necessary arrangements. ‘That’s because our people are careful to respect their women and conduct their affairs with circumspection,’ said Monsieur Marion with considerable satisfaction.
The expedition leader was also more than happy that his policy of encouraging the friendships between his officers and the chiefs was paying handsome dividends. Relationships with the local chiefs were now so amicable that they often spent nights on board his ship, dining with the officers and taking over their sleeping cabins as of right. Even Monsieur Crozet, initially so suspicious of the chiefs’ motives, frequently entertained one of their sons on board, excusing himself by saying the lad reminded him of his own son. The Zealanders knew all the officers by name, although their pronunciation of those alien to their tongue meant not all of their versions were as obvious as Mariou, Ta-recca and Ru.
Only Monsieur du Clesmeur kept himself aloof from more contact with the Zealanders than duty required. André had noticed that after the ships were first overrun by the Naturals, the captain mounted an armed guard to prevent even the chiefs from coming on board the Castries. His action seemed at odds with the expedition leader’s instructions to extend friendship to the chiefs whenever possible, and the ensign could only assume it was the result of his overweening snobbery. Jean thought it hardly surprising that, as an aristocrat who most likely saw his own peasants as barely human, he considered mere Naturals beneath his notice. ‘Mort-diable—he has little enough time for his fellow officers.’
When Monsieur Marion himself was not fully occupied with his excursions, he relished the way in which he was fêted by the Zealanders—men, women and children alike. Whenever he went ashore he was besieged by a throng of singing and laughing people. He returned their caresses and showered them with cheap trinkets. Although Jean cynically observed that their captain seemed to have acquired a retinue as fawning as that of the French King, the senior ensign himself benefited from Monsieur Marion’s determination to encourage good relationships with the Zealanders.
Anxious not to offend the chiefs who brought him fine turbots each morning and accommodated his every whim—when he could make them understand what these were—Monsieur Marion now also turned a blind eye to the liaisons being formed by his junior officers with the chiefs’ encouragement. With Te Kape as willing matchmaker, Jean’s relationship with the coquettish young woman he fancied at Te Kuri’s village soon blossomed. He spent many pleasurable nights with her in the village. ‘She’s quite the minx!’ he boasted. ‘But I have her twisted around my little finger. She’ll do anything I wish of her.’
Even their fellow ensign, Paul Chevillard, proved not as coldblooded as André had thought. He succumbed to the allure of a girl from a village closer to their anchorage than Te Kuri’s. Situated on a narrow headland that jutted west from the main peninsula, it was the home of Pikiorei, a chief who often accompanied Te Kuri on board the ship. The clerk waxed poetical about the shapely breasts and ravishing glances of this girl until Jean told him bluntly that action carried more weight than words.
André himself avoided any such relationships. He felt awkward and clumsy in the presence of young women. His feet got in the way, and if not his feet, it was his tongue he tripped over. When it came to the Zealanders, he found the reek of fish oil soon quelled any stirrings of ardour and outweighed the undoubted advantage of not having to summon up snippets of social wit. Besides, Monsieur Thirion drew him aside and warned him that many of the women he had seen in the villages bore the unmistakable marks of the great pox—another indication they were perhaps not the first European ship in these waters. ‘Prenez garde, young man,’ he said. ‘Several of the ship’s people reported to me with symptoms of the pox within a few days of our captain allowing the women on board.’
Much to the ensign’s secret relief, none of the women showed interest in him. They remained shy, avoiding any contact with him if they could. When they could not, they ducked their heads so their hair covered their faces. Jean teased him about his lack of sex appeal. ‘It’s that hair of yours, cousin—it’s not to their liking. Maybe you should powder it.’
André knew it was indeed his red hair. He often heard the women refer to him by a different name than that used by Te Kape. He had first heard it during the ceremony at which he was given the whale-tooth pendant. Initially he assumed it was his faulty ear or their faltering pronunciation, but as he grew more familiar with the sounds of the Zealanders’ language, he realized it was a different name entirely. Something like ‘Too-raye-hoo’, not ‘Ta-recca.’ None of the Naturals addressed him directly by this name, but he heard them use it�
�particularly any group of gossiping women—when it was clear they were discussing him. It occurred to him that maybe the whale-tooth pendant had tabooed him in some way. Eventually he asked Te Kape what the name meant.
‘Turehu?’ Te Kape repeated. He indicated André’s russet hair, his grey-green eyes and his particularly white skin. Then with much gesturing towards the distant forest, he seemed to be saying the term applied to some sort of being of the forest—a supernatural being with similarly red hair and pale skin. When he thought the ensign understood, he then pointed to some women nearby and mounded his hands over his stomach. Wagging his finger at André, then in the direction of the forest, he shook his head vigorously.
‘Non, pardieu!’ André exclaimed. ‘Are you telling me this forest person is responsible for pregnancy?’ Self-consciously, he mounded his hands over the front of his breeches in the way Te Kape had and raised his eyebrows.
Te Kape fell about laughing. ‘Wi-wi!’ he said, using one of the French expressions he had picked up. He thrust his stomach out, placed his hands in the small of his back, then waddled a few steps, rolling his eyes in a face the picture of guilt. He then acted the part of an outraged husband.
‘Fort bien!’ said André wryly. ‘Now you’re telling me these pregnancies are the result of misalliance?’
Although Te Kape did not understand the words, the ensign’s tone was clear enough. ‘Wi-wi!’ he said again, grinning.
At that moment, André realized the women nearby had been watching every gesture and were now giggling behind their hands. Although he flushed scarlet with embarrassment, he managed to sweep a bow in their direction, which had them running off, laughing openly. He comforted himself with the thought that at least he had not raised the matter of taboo with Te Kape. He would have made even bigger a fool of himself.
He had no intention of explaining any of this to his cousin.
Like Jean, most of the off-duty officers also enjoyed spending time on hunting expeditions, taking with them a local guide and a few soldiers as protection—although as time went on such precautions seemed increasingly redundant. The days drifted by as they indulged in relaxed and amiable hours with their new companions. Although the weather was now often wet and cold, life in Port Marion had much to commend it. Even the somewhat timid Monsieur du Clesmeur grew confident enough to venture on a longer excursion into the interior with some of his officers from the Castries, looking for good hunting opportunities as well as exploring new territory.
Having left the masting shore camp before daybreak, the captain and his party had not returned when darkness fell. Just as those at the camp were becoming concerned for their safety, the soldiers who had accompanied them straggled into the firelight, led by several Naturals. At some stage in the afternoon, they had become separated from the officers. ‘We were surrounded by a large crowd of savages, gentlemen,’ their embarrassed leader explained, nervously fingering the hilt of his cutlass. ‘As you know, the trails are narrow, and we were forced to follow along different routes through the fern.’
Monsieur Crozet was not impressed. ‘You made no attempt to rejoin them?’
The soldier shuffled his feet. ‘We had no choice but to rely on our guides, sir. They kept urging us on, and as you see, they did bring us here without any difficulty.’
‘Imbeciles—we can only trust Monsieur du Clesmeur’s guides are equally reliable,’ said Monsieur Crozet dourly, dismissing the soldiers to the guard-post.
As the Zealanders who had brought them back were still hovering, the second-in-command bid them join the men for supper. ‘You’ve no doubt earned it,’ he said.
The Zealanders had left before the long-overdue officers returned, also in the company of local guides, tired to the bone and liberally covered in mud, but otherwise none the worse for wear. After making sure their guides were fed and given gifts, André and Jean joined the hunting party in the officers’ hut to hear the details of their adventure.
That morning, after several hours of steady walking, the hunters had been surprised to find themselves on a ridge overlooking another large inlet fringed with mangroves where they had expected to see yet more mountain ranges stretching further inland. Monsieur du Clesmeur seized the opportunity to add this southwestern extension of the harbour to his charts. He had no trouble persuading his companions to continue down to this inlet as they could see tempting flocks of ducks on the stretches of mudflat that skirted it. ‘We expected to find excellent hunting.’
Much to their dismay, the mud proved too soft for them to get close enough to shoot any of the ducks they could see. As it was, the unfortunate Monsieur Le Corre ventured too far out. Without warning, he sank up to his armpits. ‘If we’d not acted immediately, he would’ve disappeared entirely,’ said Monsieur du Clesmeur. ‘It took all our strength to pull him to safety.’
Jean nudged André. ‘I can well believe that,’ he whispered. ‘I’m surprised they accomplished it without the block and tackle we’re using to drag the logs.’
André glanced at the weighty second-in-command of the Castries, who was quaffing a large glass of brandy. He whispered back, ‘I bet their success was due to the strength of their guides—without them they wouldn’t have stood a chance of pulling him out.’
Monsieur du Clesmeur was continuing his account. ‘We carried on around the seashore towards a large fortified village we could see on a distant peninsula. This village proved larger even than that of Tacoury’s.’
‘But of course,’ muttered Jean. ‘No doubt its chief was superior too.’
Much to André’s reluctant amusement, the captain echoed his words. ‘The chief of this place, a most superior type of man, came to greet us in the usual manner. He then invited us to inspect his village, but would not allow us to enter any of the buildings.’ He explained that, made uncomfortable by this, they decided not to linger. ‘We indicated we wished to cross to the other side of the inlet, and this chief showed himself willing to have his men take us across in several canoes.’
Monsieur Le Corre nodded. ‘We were clearly in a different canton,’ he said. ‘We didn’t recognize any of the people, and their refusal to let us explore their huts seemed likely the result of their lack of familiarity with us.’
‘Nevertheless, they were in no way surprised to see us,’ Monsieur du Clesmeur added. ‘We had no doubt they knew of us.’
After presenting the chief with most of their remaining supplies as payment, they were taken across the inlet without mishap. At one stage, one of the canoes fell well behind. ‘The rogues wanted to turn back,’ said Monsieur Le Corre. ‘But once I pointed my musket at the fugleman, they agreed to continue.’
‘Probably objecting to the weight of their passenger,’ Jean said out of the corner of his mouth to André.
Monsieur du Clesmeur overheard and frowned at him before continuing their story. Accompanied by the paddlers from the canoes, with more Zealanders joining them on the way, they had followed on around the coastline in the rough direction they thought would return them across the head of the inlet and back to the masting camp. It was at this stage that they became separated from the soldiers, which was of course of considerable concern. ‘We’d also grossly underestimated the time it would take us,’ he said. ‘To make matters worse, at four in the afternoon, with the light fast fading, we came across the largest river we’d yet seen.’
As they were only halfway back to the camp, the captain thought it best to stop in the open rather than become benighted in forest at the mercy of Naturals. ‘We also hoped that by doing so our soldiers would catch us up.’
But their guides persuaded them to continue, carrying them across the river one by one so they did not get their clothes wet. ‘It took two of the biggest of them to carry me,’ said Monsieur Le Corre, grinning at Jean. The good-natured second-in-command had clearly heard the ensign’s comments at his expense.
‘Much to our relief and surprise, the savages delivered us safe and sound back to the camp as you see,
gentlemen.’ Monsieur du Clesmeur finished his account. ‘It took another five hours of steady walking, but they showed no signs of discontent, having nothing but concern for our wellbeing. At times they even carried us on their backs, seeing we were growing exceedingly weary.’
All things considered, Monsieur du Clesmeur’s party were elated rather than downcast by their adventure. But the captain did add, ‘We must confess to being a dismal failure as a hunting party. All we have to show for our long day are four muddy ducks and two wood pigeons—and the latter had to be pointed out to us by the savages.’
‘Indeed,’ said Monsieur Le Corre. ‘We need not have bothered carrying our muskets all that way.’
‘Your soldiers fared no better,’ said Monsieur Crozet, his tone tart. ‘We must hope our savage friends bring us supplies of fish or game tomorrow or we’ll have to resort to salt beef.’
Late that night, they were woken by a disturbance outside the huts. The guard banged on their door, shouting that he thought a canoe was coming in to land on the beach below. ‘Peste soit du sot!’ Monsieur Crozet exclaimed as he struggled into his breeches and threw his greatcoat on over his nightshirt. ‘A plague on the fool—is he trying to make up for his companions’ dismal performance, proving he’s on the alert? At this hour, it’s probably a flock of the ducks they failed to shoot yesterday.’
Before any of the officers had time to leave the hut, Sub-Lieutenant de Vaudricourt appeared at the entrance. ‘Pardon, mille pardons, gentlemen, for my intrusion at such a late hour,’ he muttered.
Before anyone could respond or the military commander explain his unexpected presence, he staggered off-balance as someone thrust him further into the hut, together with his servant, who was hovering in the shadows behind him. Standing in the doorway, carrying a flaring torch that threatened to set fire to the hut, was a large beaming Natural.
