The music started and they followed the priest down the hall into the temporary chapel. The guests were standing, facing them and smiling. John nodded to all, stopping when the priest stopped, turning to face them.
The music changed and John turned to see Maeve entering the room on Edmund’s arm, followed by Mary and Caroline. She walked slowly towards him, in step with the music. John turned as she arrived at his side and they both faced the priest.
The ceremony went smoothly but was a blur to Maeve. She later said all she could remember was saying, “I do” and the priest’s final words, “I now pronounce you man and wife.” John kissed his bride gently. They turned and walked out of the room arm in arm and then from the farm under a military guard, their swords raised forming an arch. They stood side by side accepting the congratulations from their friends. Lieutenant Colonel Nickle came forward and congratulated John, not only on his marriage but the standard of dress and presentation of his command.
The reception dinner was well organised by the local chef with speeches comfortably fitted between the meal courses. John was an eloquent speaker and enjoyed receiving some good natured banter from his military comrades. He entertained the guests with comical comments and finished the dinner with a comment at the ‘toast’ to missing friends.
“Our day has nearly been perfect but some of our family members are not here. They are remembered and are not forgotten.” He raised his glass. “To absent friends.”
The guests responded, “To absent friends.”
The violinist entertained the guests with medleys of popular tunes and reels. John and Maeve performed the bridal waltz, compliments of Maeve’s tuition from Caroline. Their dance started a rush, with most of the guests taking a turn around the floor, even Lieutenant Colonel Nickle danced with Caroline. After dancing, refreshments were available for their parched throats.
Around five o’clock John whispered to Maeve, “It’s time to go. I’m going to change now. I’ll meet you in the kitchen when you’re ready.”
Maeve asked Mary Cooney to help her change. John asked Lieutenant Caly to tell the guests they were leaving and to ask Connor to bring a gig around to the front door area.
As Maeve and John came out the front door they received a loud round of applause. The couple moved through the crowd; they shook hands or were kissed and received best wishes for their future. John helped Maeve into the gig and, with a quick wave, they were off down the road as man and wife at long last.
John had been granted a week’s leave and they decided to drive around the local countryside at leisure. The first night they stayed in Kyneton and the next day drove to the nearby village of Lauriston where there was a large water catchment. They stayed there for two nights and tried some fishing. They proceeded on to Malmsbury for a few days.
It was a wonderful week that would stay with them forever. It was a time when they could share some inner most thoughts.
Maeve opened her soul one night when she said, “I am very happy but it would be more complete if I knew where Michael was.”
John had wondered why nothing had been heard of Michael. He knew he had escaped custody, but he was unaware Michael had provided Maeve with a contact address through the Alford’s in Van Diemen’s Land. She now told him that she had written to him at this address. John was surprised at this news but was happy for her and he hoped that something would eventuate from her letter.
They headed back to Kyneton up past a bluestone farmhouse on a hill by the Campaspe River and on to home. They had enjoyed the time by themselves and looked forward to the future with anticipation.
¶
Michael stood at the back of the coach station, waiting for the mail to be sorted. The coach had arrived late and he knew that the mail would not be sorted until the out-going passengers were loaded and the horse team changed over. Maybe Brendan was in his office. Perhaps he had time to chat as he waited for the mail. He had not seen him for over two weeks. He walked to the office door and knocked.
“Come in, Michael. I saw you through the side window”, called Brendan.
“Bring two teas, please,” he instructed his clerk.
Turning to Michael he shook his hand. “To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”
“It’s mail day; I’m still anticipating a letter from Maeve. Is there anything of interest happening around town?”
The tea arrived as Brendan answered. ”I feel sure you will receive your letter in time. Regarding local news — make sure that you avoid the new District Police Inspector. He’s out to make a name for himself.”
Michael laughed. ”I avoid authority like the plague.”
They chatted some more before Michael took his leave from Brendan and returned unsuccessfully again to the coach station mail room.
There was a letter requesting some shearing to be carried out in Kilmore. Over fifty sheep had been missed during the summer muster and had now been located in a gully and they badly needed to be shorn. They agreed Seamus would go as Michael was more suited to working the farm and extending the farm house. The following day Seamus loaded the shearing cart and together with the dog barking Seamus gave a wave, and headed down the road off to Kilmore.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Auckland to Kyneton
After resigning his commission in the British Army, Paul Lang wrote to the Colonial Office offering his services to the Empire’s colonies. He was advised that both New Zealand and the Australian colonies were seeking ‘men of position’ to assume roles to maintain law and order. He was further advised to proceed to the colony of his choice and present his credentials to an appropriate official. He had decided New Zealand would be his choice as it was not tainted with convict origins as were the colonies of Australia. His wife, Virginia, was happy to leave England and start a new life with new acquaintances, while son, Frederick, would continue his studies in Rome.
After an uneventful voyage from England and a two day stopover in Sydney Town, they arrived in the port of Auckland in June 1854 and took rooms at a small inn overlooking the large harbour. The settlement was spread out around the port and seemed to be progressing with many skilled shopkeepers and farmers developing their land. Their immediate impression was one of optimism. It could be felt in the air.
Paul had seen indigenous natives in South Africa and Australia but was surprised when he first saw the Maori natives. They carried themselves with a dignity far above the other races. They dressed differently, with wrap around flaxen mats; favourite adorned coverings were reserved for special days. He was to learn that the Maori had an extensive vocabulary, having names for all animals and plants. They were tattooed with various symbols, the more tattoos the higher the status in their society. He soon became aware that they were a warlike race with no fear. Prior to a battle they would perform the Haka war dance which was designed to put fear into their opponents — and often did.
Paul had several letters of introduction supplied by fellow officers and local government officials from his home county. He approached the office of the relatively new Local Provincial Government Council which had only been formed since 1852. From them he obtained the names and addresses of senior military and judicial officials. He wrote letters of request for interviews stating his former position and his inclination of the preferred position he was now seeking.
Paul received invitations to meet with a senior official of the military garrison, the local militia and the police magistrate’s office. He made some discreet enquires and finally decided he would prefer a position in the militia. The militia had been formed as an armed force responsible to the Provincial Council in matters relating to civil disturbance or disorder.
It was not a police force and not an arm of the British Army. It had only recently been formed and was based in the town. He believed he would regain his confidence in such an environment. He accepted their interview first.
He duly arrived in his colonel’s uniform, with his letters of introduction and was immediately ushe
red into the commandant’s office. He was greeted by a younger man, Lieutenant Colonel James Stephenson, who exuded enthusiasm. They shook hands and the lieutenant colonel indicated for Paul to be seated.
They had some idle chatter initially as the lieutenant colonel summed up Paul.
Paul soon sensed that the commandant was alert and intelligent.
After reading the letters of introduction, he asked Paul, “What will you be bringing to the militia if you are successful in obtaining a position?”
Paul answered carefully, as he knew he must not be seen to be undermining this younger man. “Experience, support and credibility — experience in the field, a deputy for you and increased credibility for the militia by hiring a former British officer of rank.”
The lieutenant colonel laughed. “I was most curious to know how you would answer that question. I have received a variety of unusual answers.”
Paul was aware he gave a gasp when he realized he was not the only candidate.
The commandant continued, “I believe in quick but calculated decisions.” Paul shifted uncomfortably. “I am prepared to offer you a position as my deputy as a Major. The salary will be advised to me by the Provincial Council. Do you wish for some time to think about this offer?”
Paul rose from his chair and walked to commandant’s desk, extending his hand. “I accept.”
“Good. Meet me here next Monday morning and we will finalise arrangements,” replied Lieutenant Colonel Stephenson.
Paul felt a sense of satisfaction. Here was his chance to vindicate himself.
Major Lang and Virginia moved into officers’ quarters and settled into their new life in a new country. They both had a contentment that they had not known for many years. The major’s role was primarily training the militia to handle civil disorder problems with discretion initially and only use force as a last resort.
Life was easy. The troops were well trained after three months but had little to do. However, the Maoris were unhappy with some aspects of the British rule as agreed at the Treaty of Waitangi in 1840 by the assembly of native chiefs.
The influx and spread of immigrants was bound to happen but the abuse of some of the terms of the treaty by some immigrants was causing some civil unrest. The major’s baptism of fire with the Maoris was destined to happen one day. It happened with a simple stupid action of a European settler.
Sheep were being grazed in unfenced pastures. Owners were aware of the potential for sheep to wander away from the main flock. Most hired shepherds to reduce the problem. Five miles south of Auckland a sheep owner had been losing sheep and had accused a local Maori tribe of theft. The chief came down to see what the argument was about. During the ranting of the sheep owner he pushed the chief who fell on his back. The tribe did nothing at the time and the sheep owner continued his abuse as he mistook the lack of action as meekness.
That evening the tribe had a meeting and decided that the sheep owner must be punished. Two days later the tribal warriors descended on his farmhouse. The owner saw them coming and, together with four farm hands, decided to challenge the tribal warriors. The five of them stood outside the farmhouse with single barrel shot guns. The warriors stopped fifty yards from them and commenced to do the Haka war dance and were soon agitated. The sheep owner soon realized that they were going to attack regardless of his guns. The five hurried inside, bolting the doors and windows.
The Haka lasted nearly a minute and the warriors were all now at fever pitch of excitement. The dance stopped and the warriors charged the house. Shots were fired and two warriors were wounded but they continued up to the house, determined to break in through the doors or windows. They eventually forced open the rear door and grabbed the sheep owner, dragging him outside and killed him. The others were left alone to live another day.
Three days later the news of the sheep owner’s death reached Auckland. The immediate reason for his death was unknown as there had been no witness to the previous incident, other than the Maoris.
After lengthy discussions it was decided to send in the militia to attempt to apprehend the culprits. There was no positive description to identify the individuals and it was unlikely the warriors involved would be handed over by the chief.
Lieutenant Colonel Stephenson gave the task to Major Lang who immediately thought this was an opportunity to show his value. Major Lang quickly assembled a lieutenant, two sergeants and twenty troopers, armed with guns and swords, and marched to the district.
The tribe lived in a village or pa which was on a steep hill and was surrounded by dense palisading of strong stakes fronted by a ditch. It could be difficult to enter if the tribe wished to defend itself from intruders.
Major Lang knew of this pa and, as he rode out, he pondered the dilemma of how to gain entry. He knew he must first negotiate as he had been ordered by his commandant in no uncertain terms. They neared the pa and the village gradually came into sight.
The closer they got the more difficult their task appeared. When they were about two hundred yards from the entrance a young warrior walked down to meet them. The major and Sergeant Mitchell dismounted and, handing the reins of their horses to a trooper, they both walked to meet him.
The warrior could speak a little English and said, “No! You stop here.”
Major Lang responded, “I wish to speak to the chief.” He pointed to the sergeant and himself and said, “Him and me speak to chief. Others stay,” pointing to the platoon.
The warrior said, “Come.” The three of them walked slowly up the steep hill, climbed over the wooden barrier and then headed towards the biggest of the huts.
There were Maoris everywhere. Lang did not realize that the pa contained so many people. They entered the large hut and were confronted by ten senior Maoris seated in a semi-circle. Their escort motioned them where to sit and he sat behind them. The scene was solemn; the Maoris were not happy. Lang would have a difficult, if not impossible, task in front of him.
The chief gave a welcome sign and then spoke. Their escort translated. “Why are you here?”
The major said, “We have come for the men who killed the sheep man.”
The answer came quickly and directly. “No.” Generally the Maoris were very verbose but not this time.
The major asked, “Why?”
“We have decided,” he was told.
The major then made a direct statement. “If you do not hand them over to us, we will have to come and find them and take them.” The looks on the faces of the ten Maoris gave him his answer. Immediately the major knew there would be no more discussion.
The escort said quietly, “Come, you go now.”
As they rose to leave the major said quietly to Sergeant Mitchell, “Remember all you see on our way out and walk slowly.” They then returned to the platoon, mounted their horses and headed back to the Auckland Barracks.
He immediately reported to his commandant who sat quietly and listened intently.
When he had completed the verbal report, Lieutenant Colonel Stephenson asked, “You said there were ten Maoris sitting in a semi-circle, were they dressed similarly?”
The major responded, “No, they had different coloured wrap-around cloaks and had different tattoos. They were all senior and had a commanding appearance. They could have all been chiefs; it appeared to be a major meeting.”
The commandant thanked him for his report and asked him to immediately put the report in writing and get it to his office. When he received the report he went to meet with the Provincial Council. Lieutenant Colonel Stephenson was most disturbed by the ten chiefs being at a pa meeting.
During the meeting he was advised that there was to be a meeting with the Paramount Chiefs within the next ten days and that his presence together with Major Lang was required. There was a possibility that the chiefs were meeting early prior to this meeting to discuss their own concerns to be raised. It was decided to await the meeting outcome before any further action regarding the killing of the sheep owne
r.
The meeting was held in the town hall. The two militia officers arrived on time in day uniform and were shown seats behind the Provincial Councillors. The chiefs filed in, in order of seniority, and sat opposite the councillors, completing a circle. The Maoris sat with a quiet composure, both dignified and proud, exuding strength.
The major had a good look at them and then wrote on a piece of paper — ‘These are the chiefs I met at the big pa.’ He handed the paper to the commandant who handed it onto the Presiding Councillor who nodded acceptance.
Stephenson turned to Major Hall, and said quietly, “The centre chief is one of the chiefs who signed the Treaty of Waitangi.”
The meeting went smoothly when dealing with the administrative matters and several issues were resolved quickly between the two parties. When the Presiding Councillor started addressing local issues, the chief sitting to the right of the paramount chief rose to his feet majestically. This indicated that what he was about to say was important in his opinion. Everyone could sense a change of mood in the room. The Provincial Councillors became most alert, ready to absorb his every word.
The chief was the second most senior of the group and spoke the English language slowly and deliberately. “Our Paramount Chief has been insulted by your sheep man and your soldier.” He pointed to Major Lang who gasped at this comment being levelled at him. The chief then resumed his chair.
The Presiding Councillor said, “Please explain what happened to cause the death of the sheep owner.” The same chief rose again and spoke. The councillors and militia men listened in silence as the chief detailed, accurately, the incident leading to the chief being pushed to the ground. The councillors realized that a serious impropriety had occurred to one of the most important chiefs in the country.
The chief was then asked to explain the second insult involving the major.
The chief said, “This soldier said he would come into our pa and take our warriors. We will not allow this.” The chief sat down.
No one spoke. For a few seconds the room was quiet. It was now noon. The Presiding Councillor saw this as an opportunity to call a halt to the morning proceedings. He also wished to have discussions with the other councillors and the militia officers to come up with, not only answers, but also some solutions. He acknowledged the chief’s statement, thanked them for their attendance and requested that they all meet again the next day to discuss these matters further. The Chiefs left the building while the others adjourned to the dining room. It was to be a luncheon discussion.
The Convict and the Soldier Page 23
