Amber

by Deborah Challinor

  Win almost smiled. ‘So why don’t you just sail away with her, Captain, and keep her safe? Take her beyond harm’s reach?’

  Rian peered into the bowl of his pipe, stirred the contents slightly with his twig, and drew on it to strengthen the embers. ‘Because I have friends here, Mr Purcell, and so does she. And if it comes to war, I will do what I can for my friends. Surely you must understand that?’

  ‘Yes, I believe I do.’

  ‘And although, as you say,’ Rian added, ‘we haven’t always seen eye to eye, I hope that there are some in this community I can also now name as friends, just as I can say the same thing about Pukera.’

  Win settled his weight against the back of Sarah’s garden seat and crossed his arms. He looked vaguely pleased. ‘Well, if it does come to war, I dare say we would be glad of your presence. And that of your men. We have little fear of Heke himself, but sometimes in the heat of battle, as I’m sure a man such as yourself will know, events can occur that are deeply regretted afterwards. And there are young warriors aligned with Hone Heke who have little experience and even less discipline, and who may succumb to the bloodlust that can afflict many men in times of war. That is what I am frightened of, Captain.’

  Chapter Seven

  Amild panic spread throughout New Zealand, fuelled by speculation from settlements nowhere near the Bay of Islands, and by genuine fear generated in Auckland, which was considerably closer to the seat of unrest. And FitzRoy’s very public preparations for war belied the official call for calm.

  Nonetheless, the Paihia mission station quietly prepared for a siege, although some of the children, who were having trouble linking their brown-skinned playmates to any notion of danger, had to be persuaded that it was not all a game. Te Rangi had already declared that Pukera would remain neutral should a conflict arise, both because of the village’s close relationship with the mission, and because he (or rather, Haunui) did not particularly agree with Hone Heke’s heavy-handed tactics.

  Extra grain and other produce was brought to Paihia from Waimate, which was also readying for war, and visits were made to smaller outlying European settlements to offer shelter at either of the missions should the need arise. The idea of visiting the smaller Maori communities in the area had also been considered, but discarded; the Maoris had been at war for decades and were quite capable of keeping themselves out of the way if necessary, and there were also fears that rebel Maoris might infiltrate European settlements under cover of ‘good’ Maoris.

  Rian countered this argument, which held strong sway with many of the British settlers filtering through the Bay of Islands on their way down to Auckland, by pointing out that, so far as could be ascertained, Heke had no intention of alienating the settlers: that would limit his declared aim of improving relations between the races. The response to that was, inevitably: so why had Heke thrice cut down the flagstaff, the ultimate symbol of British authority? And if Rian attempted to argue further, it only made anyone listening decide that he was a supporter of Heke and subsequently regard him with deep suspicion. Heke himself had gone quiet and was rumoured to have temporarily retired to his stronghold at Kaikohe.

  Then, late in February, reports came through that he had been joined by two hundred men from the Hokianga and was on his way to Waimate for further discussions with Henry Williams, and also with Tamati Waka Nene. But Heke failed to provide an assurance that he would not attack Kororareka. And then came worse news: the great chief Kawiti had also aligned himself with Heke.

  ‘Well, I think this is probably it,’ Rian said grimly to Kitty the morning they heard, before setting off for Pukera to bring the crew back to Paihia.

  When he returned later that day he had with him not only the Katipo’s men, but also Haunui and Tahi, and a dozen of the village’s children aged between about two and ten.

  ‘Te Rangi thought they might be safer here at the mission,’ Haunui explained to Aunt Sarah as they all gathered on her front verandah.

  ‘Does he think there is going to be trouble?’ Kitty asked, handing around a platter of bread and blackberry jam to the children.

  ‘No. Just to be sure,’ Haunui replied, helping himself to a couple of slices.

  ‘Where will we put them?’ Sarah wondered aloud, looking down at the sea of little faces. She knew most of them already from the mission school, but not the children under the age of six. ‘Did you carry the little ones?’

  ‘Ae, we all did,’ Haunui replied. ‘The babies are still at the village with their mothers.’

  ‘Did you not ask them to come in as well?’

  ‘We did,’ Rian said, ‘but they chose to stay.’

  ‘Why?’ Sarah asked. ‘Surely they would be safer here?’

  Kitty eyed her aunt, wondering if Sarah was more nervous about the impending conflict than she was admitting. She’d been fairly calm and cheerful so far, but Kitty knew she’d been listening to Charlotte Dow, who’d been regaling the mission women with hair-raising stories of what had happened to missionaries in other parts of the world who had found themselves caught up in wars. Stories that involved large cooking pots, escapes that ended in fatal shipwrecks, and people who were lost forever in hostile jungles. All of it was hearsay, so far as Kitty could gather, and no doubt liberally enriched by Mrs Dow’s penchant for alarmism. The woman needed a good slap across the face, and Kitty had decided that when the time came she would be first in line.

  Haunui said, ‘They do not believe so. But they sent these children because they are the tutu ones. It is much easier to watch a child who cannot yet walk, than a whole lot who run away all the time and do not listen.’

  Kitty laughed. ‘So are we to be nannies to Pukera’s most badly behaved children?’

  ‘Ae,’ Haunui said, grinning widely. ‘I think so.’

  But Sarah wasn’t laughing. In fact she had paled visibly, as though something had just occurred to her. ‘But what if we are overrun ourselves? What will we do with them all? We can’t be responsible for them. What will we do if we can’t protect them?’

  Rian laid a hand on Sarah’s forearm and said in his most panic-dispelling voice, ‘I very much doubt that the mission will be overrun, Mrs Kelleher. Heke won’t attack here, you’ve said so yourself.’

  Sarah looked at him with a flicker of hope. ‘Yes, I suppose I have, haven’t I? But, oh, I wish Mr Jenkins were here. He would know what we should do.’

  Rian’s eyes narrowed slightly, although his voice remained calm. ‘What we should do, Mrs Kelleher, is go surely and steadily about our business. For example, I suggest you set up bedding for these children in the schoolroom, and won’t arrangements need to be made to feed them all?’

  ‘Yes,’ Sarah said after a moment. ‘Yes, that’s a good idea. I’ll go and talk to Mrs Williams now, in fact.’ And off she bustled.

  When she was out of earshot, Rian said to Kitty, ‘Christ almighty, your aunt certainly knows how to make a mountain out of molehill, doesn’t she?’

  ‘I think you can blame Charlotte Dow for that,’ Kitty muttered.

  Rian looked at her for a moment, then lifted her hand and brought it to his lips. ‘What about you, mo ghrá? Are you frightened?’

  Kitty leaned against him. ‘Not exactly frightened, no. But I am…well, I am apprehensive, Rian. I’m worried that it will all get out of hand and that people will be killed. People we care about.’

  Rian nodded, just once. ‘So am I, love. But with luck it will all be over soon. That’s if it ever starts.’

  ‘I think it will, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  A discreet cough came from behind them: it was Hawk. Kitty couldn’t help noticing that he was carrying all his weapons.

  ‘Excuse me, Rian,’ he said. ‘The men would like a word.’

  Kitty looked beyond him and saw that Haunui had joined the crew on the beach. Tahi was squatting on his haunches, poking at something under a small rock with a stick. ‘Bring them in,’ she suggested. ‘I’ll put the ket
tle on.’ She turned then to the Pukera children who had made themselves comfortable on Sarah’s verandah and asked them in Maori if they would like some more bread and jam.

  Smiling to herself at the enthusiastically nodding heads and chorus of ‘Ae!’, she went inside, for a second not realising that they were all following her, their bare feet soundless on the hall carpets. When she did notice, she stood in the doorway to the kitchen and watched them, amused, as they touched everything they could reach—the white-painted walls, the hall mirror, the fine woodwork of Mr Jenkins’s chiffonier, the crocheted runner draped along it, the flowers in the porcelain vase on the occasional table at the base of the stairs. When a very small child picked up the vase and almost dropped it, Kitty decided they would all be better in the courtyard between the house and the kitchen garden.

  By the time she returned, she saw that Rian and the crew had settled themselves in Sarah’s parlour—except for Gideon, who was prowling around the room looking at Sarah’s nice things, much as the children had done.

  In the kitchen she busied herself making a large pot of tea and putting more jam on slices of buttered bread. She thought about what to give the crew to eat: there was only half of a seed cake left, which she knew wouldn’t go far.

  ‘Should I make scones?’ she wondered out loud, and started violently when a voice responded, ‘I could do that.’

  It was Daniel, standing in the doorway watching her, a gentle smile on his handsome face.

  ‘I almost had a fit of the vapours then,’ Kitty exclaimed, her hand over her thudding heart.

  ‘Beg your pardon,’ Daniel said. ‘But I could, you know. Make scones, I mean. My mother taught me.’

  ‘Your mother taught a big strapping man like you to make scones?’ Kitty echoed disbelievingly, then stopped, suddenly worried that he might interpret her comment as a flirtation. Or that someone else might.

  ‘No,’ he said, ‘I was only a boy when she showed me. And to be honest I haven’t made them for years. There wasn’t much call for them at Hyde Park Barracks.’ He moved further into the kitchen. ‘Do you have plenty of flour?’

  Kitty checked the bin. ‘Yes.’

  ‘What about baking soda and cream of tartar?’

  Kitty already knew there were ample quantities of both of those. ‘And buttermilk,’ she said.

  ‘Shall I make cheese or plain?’ he asked, moving nearer to the bench and rolling up his shirtsleeves.

  Kitty saw that his forearms were tanned and muscled and dusted with fine black hair.

  ‘Whatever you like,’ she said quickly. ‘I’ll just check on the children.’

  At the back door she stood with her back pressed hard against the doorframe, wondering what on earth had come over her.

  ‘Missus Kitty?’

  She looked down at one of the older boys. ‘Mmm?’

  ‘Where’s our bread?’

  ‘Oh.’ She turned and almost walked straight into Rian, coming through the door with the platter of bread and jam.

  ‘You forgot this.’

  ‘I know. Thank you,’ Kitty replied, taking the platter.

  ‘What’s Royce doing in the kitchen?’ he asked.

  ‘Making scones.’

  Rian frowned. ‘Scones?’

  ‘Yes.’ Kitty handed the platter to the boy and watched as he was almost knocked over by the other children rushing to grab pieces of the jammy bread. ‘What were you doing in the kitchen?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  They looked quickly at each other, then they both laughed and it was on the tip of Kitty’s tongue to say ‘You were checking up on me, weren’t you?’ but she stopped herself just in time.

  ‘What sort of man admits to knowing how to bake scones?’ Rian asked as they went back to the kitchen, where Pierre was now standing over Daniel.

  ‘Non, non, NON!’ he was saying. ‘The crème du tartre, she go in before the bicarbonate du soude!’ He grabbed a wooden spoon from Daniel’s hand and waggled it in the bowl in front of him so that flour puffed out everywhere. ‘See, the scones they will not rise now!’

  ‘That sort of man,’ Kitty said. Clearly, Pierre’s acceptance of Daniel did not extend to matters of food preparation.

  Daniel snatched back the spoon. ‘No, the cream of tartar goes in first, and they will rise.’

  ‘Who tells you that?’ Pierre demanded.

  ‘My mother,’ Daniel shot back, ‘and don’t you dare insult her!’

  Pierre looked aghast. ‘I would never insult une mère! ’cept I only say that ’cause—’

  ‘Shut up, the pair of you!’ Rian barked, while Kitty covered her smile with a hand. ‘Pierre, leave him alone. Daniel, finish the bloody scones then come into the parlour.’

  They were all waiting by the time Daniel appeared, hurriedly drying his hands on a tea towel. He said nothing but squeezed onto the end of the chaise next to Gideon.

  ‘Right,’ Rian said. ‘Now, what are we going to do?’

  Everyone looked at him blankly.

  ‘About?’ Hawk prompted.

  ‘About this war between Heke and the British.’

  ‘But it hasn’t even started yet,’ Mick pointed out reasonably.

  Hawk frowned. ‘I thought you had already decided. Is that not why we are still here?’

  Rian said, ‘I’ve given my assurance…’ he glanced at Kitty, ‘…that I will not be supporting Heke, and I certainly won’t be supporting the bloody British. But surely it wouldn’t do any harm if we, well, kept an eye on things?’

  ‘What sort of an eye?’ Kitty asked suspiciously.

  ‘Well, what if we just watched what was going on? From a safe distance, I mean. Then if anything untoward were to happen, we could…warn the appropriate people, perhaps?’

  Kitty felt a flush of anger suffuse her face. ‘You mean if Heke looks like he’s losing, you’ll give him a helping hand? Rian! You promised!’

  ‘No, I said I won’t be taking sides,’ Rian insisted.

  Kitty stood up so quickly she felt a momentary wash of dizziness. ‘Oh, so you’re just going to look down on everything like God from on high and decide who needs help here and who needs help there?’ She was so angry she stamped her foot like a three-year-old. ‘You can’t do that, Rian! This isn’t even your fight! What if you’re captured? What if you’re shot?’

  ‘But I won’t be,’ Rian replied in a bewildered tone.

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘Because we won’t be anywhere near the battlefield.’

  ‘Oh, sometimes you’re such a fool, Rian Farrell!’ Kitty shouted, and stormed out of the room. They heard her pounding up the stairs and, a second later, a door slammed.

  For a brief few seconds Rian wondered whether he actually was a fool, then quickly pushed the thought away. He glanced at his crew: half of them were looking at their boots and the rest were gazing steadfastly out the window. Daniel, his face red, clearly didn’t know where to look.

  Something occurred to Rian. ‘I suppose I’d better ask you all whether you’re with me or not. Are you?’

  With no hesitation, the crew all confirmed that they were.

  To Daniel, Rian said, ‘What about you? Can you shoot straight?’

  Daniel nodded. ‘I’m a crack shot. I’m with you.’

  Hawk fixed Rian with a long and level stare. ‘Why does he need to shoot straight if we are only to be observers?’

  ‘Well, we should be prepared,’ Rian replied. ‘Just in case.’

  Hawk’s face remained impassive. ‘It would be a mistake to get involved to the point of firing weapons. Kitty is right.’

  Rian slammed the arm of his chair with his fist. ‘Christ almighty, Hawk. I can’t just sit by and watch a wholesale slaughter, can you? You know it can’t possibly be an even fight!’

  ‘I am with you, Rian,’ Hawk said calmly. ‘Just be sure you know what you are doing. Do you?’

  Rian slumped in his chair. ‘No. Not really.’

  They were all silent
for moment, each contemplating what might lie ahead. Then Ropata wrinkled his nose. ‘What’s burning?’

  ‘Daniel’s scones,’ Pierre replied with a smirk.

  Paihia, March 1845

  During the next few weeks HMS Hazard arrived and anchored in Kororareka Bay, carrying one-hundred-and-forty soldiers, sailors and marines. Two blockhouses were erected to accommodate a detachment from the 96th Regiment—one next to the flagstaff on Maiki Hill, and another equipped with three cannon further down the slopes—and a barracks was built in the town itself. Defences were also manned by two hundred armed townspeople, and volunteers from the merchant ships anchored in the bay. A one-gun battery was set up at Matauwhi Pass to cover the road leading into Kororareka from the south, and the town gaol and settler Joel Polack’s house, hastily stockaded against accidental bombardment from the Hazard, were designated places of refuge for women and children.

  Settlers too frightened to stay in Kororareka had fled, and those who had decided to sit it out had moved into the town: there had been a spate of robberies, allegedly committed by Kawiti’s men, at outlying properties, and three houses at Okiato south of Kororareka had been plundered and burnt to the ground. Although Henry Williams had almost worn himself out trying unsuccessfully to broker a peace deal between Heke and the Crown, there seemed no chance now that the rebel Maoris would back down.

  At Paihia, the dozen Maori children returned to Pukera because the mission simply could not accommodate them for any length of time, and because they were homesick. Tahi went back with them, but Haunui elected to stay at Paihia. Privately, Kitty suspected it was so he could keep an eye on Rian, although she never said so to either of them.

  Hostilities still had not officially been declared, but the tension and expectation were immense, and nerves became more frayed by the day as people did their best to go about their normal business.