by Sarah Lark
“You can shut up now, Ottie!”
The pub owner commanded the men’s attention by slapping a half-full whiskey bottle onto the bar.
“Miss Cat doesn’t belong to you, and you didn’t tame her. She’s free, and if she’s smart, she won’t go with you.”
Ottfried gaped in surprise. He hadn’t counted on being understood outside the circle of German settlers.
Then Robert Busche spoke up. “But if she’s not Ottfried’s,” the young man said, “then who is the creature pregnant by?”
At Robert’s revelation, a storm of indignation broke out. But Ottfried didn’t listen. Suddenly, it all made sense: why both of “his” women were keeping so intently to themselves, why Cat was even still there.
While Robert explained how Elfriede had gotten wise to Cat, Ottfried stalked out of the pub and headed directly for the shed.
“You heard it, Paddy,” he shouted at the pub owner as he walked past. “Good old Ottie not only has two women, but he got them both pregnant.”
Cat jumped up when Ottfried, followed by the terrified Ida, barged into the shed.
“Is it true?” Ottfried bellowed. “You’re with child by me and you didn’t tell me?” He turned to Ida. “And you knew it, you little bitch?”
Cat sat up. “I’m with child, yes, but it will be my child. After all, you can hardly marry me and make things respectable. And don’t worry about your reputation; I’m planning to disappear very soon. I’m sure I’ll find a place with a Maori tribe.”
“Disappear? Tribe? What are you talking about, you stupid woman?”
Ottfried approached threateningly, but Cat leaped to her feet with her knife drawn.
“Don’t you dare touch me!” she hissed.
Ottfried raised his hands theatrically. “That’s the last thing I want. Not with my child inside of you, something might get damaged. And it disgusts me anyway when a woman is pregnant. But you will not leave. My son will not be raised by the savages!”
“It’s not your child.”
“The hell it isn’t! Or have you been with someone else, Cat? Some pious Sankt Pauli husband? I don’t believe it. No one else would be able to tame you. For that, it took Ottfried Brandmann!” He grinned and puffed out his chest. “You will bear my child where I choose, and the way I choose.” He waved his fists threateningly in the air.
“How is that going to work, Ottfried?” Ida asked. “You can’t pretend that you’re married to both of us. And Cat wouldn’t want to marry you.”
“Not if he were the last man on earth!” Cat spit the words at him.
“She doesn’t have to,” Ottfried said. “Honestly, I don’t want that, Cat. It was fun, but I prefer less-violent women. But the child is mine, and you won’t take it away from me. Besides, I need you. Didn’t Ida tell you?”
“That you want me to translate so you can cheat the Maori?” Cat asked angrily. “Yes, she did. And I said no. My child and I are leaving.”
“You don’t even know if a tribe will accept you!” Ida said, finally giving voice to the fear that she’d been carrying around for a long time. “What if they—”
“What? What if they kill me and eat me? That’s ridiculous, Ida. At the worst, they’ll turn me away and I’ll try the next tribe.”
“But there aren’t very many tribes in Canterbury, you said so yourself,” Ida said. “If none of them take you in, then you’ll be alone. What will you do then?”
Cat bit her lip. It was a real concern. If it was true that these Ngai Tahu tribes were nomadic, as Ottfried had reported, why would they burden themselves with a white woman and baby? In addition, Cat had no idea what kinds of experiences the unknown tribes had had with pakeha. They might not trust her—and with good reason. Cat’s previous relationship to the Ngati Toa wouldn’t necessarily help either. Te Rauparaha had attacked a Ngai Tahu village in Purau only fifteen years ago. Cat had to admit herself that her plan wasn’t particularly well thought out.
“What will you do then, Cat?” Ida asked again. She felt guilty about it but wished so terribly that her friend would stay.
“Then she’ll go to the nearest white settlement and look for a job,” Ottfried interjected, his voice dripping with mockery. “One of those great jobs that women with a bastard child can get. Ask Lucie, Cat. She has a brat too.”
Cat and Ida hadn’t known that, as the child was probably cared for somewhere else. The thought gave Ida an idea.
“The place in Purau,” she said, considering. “Is it remote?”
Ottfried laughed. “Everything in Purau is remote. No one will care if I have two, three, or five wives.”
“So it could be possible for no one to find out about Cat’s pregnancy,” Ida mused. “She could stay away from people. Or wear a wide apron . . .”
Cat looked at her in dismay.
“The way it looks, my child will be born nearly at the same time,” Ida said. “They could be twins. Do you understand, Cat? Both of them will be my children. We can even register them both as mine and Ottfried’s. Then your baby wouldn’t be a bastard, and you could stay with us!”
Cat’s thoughts flew to the whaling station in Piraki Bay, and Suzanne, Noni, and Priscilla. Ottfried was right that no white settlement would permit an unwed mother any life but that one. And there was no way in the world she could allow her child to grow up the way she had. Then again, she could hardly let her child be raised by a rapist like Ottfried. But if she went, she reasoned, she wouldn’t have to decide right away. She could look around Purau. Before the pregnancy was very visible, she could travel to the Ngai Tahu with Ottfried and Gibson and feel out the situation to discover if an escape was possible.
“I’ll come with you,” she said begrudgingly. “I don’t know how it’s all going to work out, but fine, I’ll come.”
“That’s right you will!” Ottfried grinned. “I’ll go drink to it. Twins! That should be celebrated.”
Ida untied her apron. If anyone wanted food, Paddy could warm something up himself.
Cat sheathed her knife again. She still felt sick and wanted to crawl back into bed. Maybe she would even lose the child. But she didn’t really believe that. She could twist the truth any way she wanted, but the gods seemed to be on Ottfried’s side.
“He won,” she said bitterly.
Chapter 40
Ottfried and Gibson’s preparations for the move to Purau progressed quickly. Joe Gibson, a small, powerfully built man with a tanned face and serious features, had worked as a whaler and seal hunter after he’d lost his surveying job. He had some money saved, and he invested it in two covered wagons, which he loaded up with supplies in Nelson. Ottfried boasted that he’d bargained the Partridges down, but if Mortimer and Alice Partridge had actually given him a discount, it was because of Ida.
“It’s surely better that you’re going to the Banks Peninsula instead of Australia,” Mrs. Partridge said sympathetically when Ida came to say goodbye. “Poor Betty is crying her eyes out. She doesn’t want to go to Australia, and I understand. She told me a little about your settlement in the Moutere Valley. The stories made my hair stand on end. The poor child, she can’t possibly run an entire household on her own and raise her brother—especially under those conditions. It would be best for both of the children to stay here.”
Ida was in complete agreement, but she knew that her father would never accept it. It was hard enough for Jakob Lange to accept Ottfried’s decision to stay in New Zealand. It was hard for the elder Brandmanns, too, but their objections were centered solely on Ottfried. Ida’s humble vow, “whither thou goest, I will go,” was assumed by all. However, Frau Brandmann and Jakob Lange both accused Ottfried of estranging poor Ida from her faith, and among the men, the subject of Cat was raised. At least the rumor about Ottfried Brandmann’s second pregnant “wife” hadn’t reached his parents. Robert Busche had ordered Elfriede to remain silent about her discovery, and the Busches had decided not to accompany the community to Australia. Recently, another
ship full of German settlers had arrived, organized by the German nobleman Count Rantzau and De Chapeaurouge & Co. The immigrants, who were also Lutherans, were settling in the mountains above the Moutere Valley, and the Busches and Schiebs had decided to join them.
“Why don’t you at least go to Rantzau?” Frau Brandmann asked her son unhappily. The settlers had named their new village after its patron.
“Why don’t you go to Rantzau yourselves?” Ida asked.
But the men shook their heads and repeated their arguments against joining forces with the new settlers, none of which Ida found very convincing.
“What it comes down to,” she said to Cat that evening as they were cooking, “is that the people of Rantzau already have their own village elders and prayer leaders. They don’t need Father and Brandmann. And they certainly don’t need Ottfried! Count Rantzau organized everything very well, and there is certainly someone in the village who speaks English. Rather than adapt or accept lower status, my father and the other men would prefer to try again on their own, even if it’s crazy.”
The Langes, the Brandmanns, the Hausers, and two other families from Sankt Pauli Village finally booked passage on a ship that departed on January 15, 1845, for Adelaide in southern Australia. The only thing they knew about the place was that, as opposed to most Australian communities, it had not arisen from a prison colony. Supposedly Lutherans were there who had emigrated during their persecution by King Friedrich William III. Perhaps they would be pleased to meet people who shared their beliefs.
Franz wept miserably while Ida embraced her family and bid them farewell for the last time, but Elsbeth’s eyes were dry. She looked cantankerous and impassive.
“Perhaps there will be kind young men among the new settlers,” Cat said, trying to cheer her up a little. “A girl as pretty as you will attract attention wherever she goes!”
“Katharina, please refrain from obscene insinuations!” Jakob Lange scolded. “Elsbeth is going to marry Friedrich Hauser. He’s a good boy, one whose faith and confidence weren’t compromised by the bad experiences in Schacht Valley.”
“Yes, because he was too stupid to understand!” Elsbeth hissed in English.
“You’re going to have to forget about speaking English now too,” Jakob said harshly. “I will no longer put up with you having conversations that go over my head.”
“Then you should learn English, Father!” Elsbeth shouted at him in German. “Goodbye, Ida, farewell,” she said in her new language. “I have to pack now.” Then she turned on her heel and marched up the stairs to her room.
“She seems to have come to terms with it,” Ida said with a sigh, and absently stroked her abdomen.
She was visibly pregnant now, but her belly wasn’t very pronounced for a woman in her fifth month. It was similar for Cat. She had purposely chosen an oversized dress from the citizens’ clothing drive for the flood victims, and when she wore it, no telltale bulge could be seen. She thought it must have to do with the excessive work and lack of proper nourishment in the failed settlement.
But Ida’s pregnancy had been harder. She was already getting short of breath when she walked back to the harbor with Cat to work in the pub’s kitchen for the last time. The next day, after the ship had set sail for Australia, the young Brandmanns would head off to their new home.
“I hope you’re right about your sister,” Cat said.
She worried that Elsbeth might do something stupid. Life in a new incarnation of Sankt Pauli Village certainly wasn’t desirable, but there were no alternatives for an almost-fifteen-year-old girl alone in New Zealand.
Ottfried and Joe had decided to travel along the east coast to Purau. It was longer than cutting across the inland area but not as dangerous. There were occasional settlements along the coast where one could rest, and even decent roads. Still, the journey of almost three hundred miles would be a trial for both the humans and the animals. To Cat’s pleasure, she found that Ottfried and Gibson had chosen two teams of strong but versatile horses: two brown geldings like the ones she’d shared the barn with in Sankt Pauli Village, and two sorrels. One man guided each wagon; Cat rode with Gibson and Ida with Ottfried. Chasseur ran excitedly back and forth between them, and seemed pleased about leaving the dreary pub.
The first days of their journey took them from Nelson to the Wairau Valley. Ida gazed sadly at the beautiful land that they’d lost. The plain was bordered by a bay with bright beaches, and the mountains were visible in the distance. The climate there was surprisingly mild, better than it was in Nelson. The sun shone from a cloudless sky, the air was clear as glass, and the sea was as smooth as a mirror. Much of the valley was forested, but there were also wide meadows of tussock grass, which must have been cleared earlier by Maori tribes. Te Ronga had once told Cat that wherever land was cleared on the South Island, the forest wouldn’t grow back. Instead, the tough grass took over.
“All that grass would be good for sheep,” Gibson remarked. “The Redwoods, my neighbors in Purau, got some from the North Island. I wonder if there’s any future in sheep farming?”
Ida liked the idea. In Raben Steinfeld, her family had a goat that she’d milked, and she was very skilled at cheesemaking. Cat, on the other hand, had never seen a goat or sheep in her life.
“It doesn’t matter, land can always be plowed,” Ottfried said with a grin. “But we’re done with that kind of work now. We aren’t going to work the land; we’re going to sell it. Others can go to the trouble of farming. Our only harvest will be money!”
Jakob Lange would have asked if that was agreeable to God, but Ida refrained from doing so.
“Everything would have been different if we’d settled here,” she said sadly to Cat.
Cat shrugged. It wouldn’t help to tell Ida how close they had come to the realization of that dream. Te Rauparaha would have been open to bargaining if Wakefield had only been a little more diplomatic. And in spite of his rudeness, the situation could have been saved if Cat and Fenroy had been allowed to communicate freely. But the unfortunate musket shot from the ranks of the pakeha had destroyed everything. Not only had Cat’s world been shattered, but also Ida’s, she now realized.
They soon left the gentle landscapes of palm trees and calm bays behind them and arrived at the main coastline. Sometimes they followed paths that had been laid out by whalers and missionaries, but more often than not, they used Maori paths as they headed southward. Cat recognized them easily, but unfortunately the paths were rarely wide enough for covered wagons, and it was quite a challenge to broaden them or maneuver the wagons over roots and stumps. It became easier when they reached the coast and traveled along the high cliffs above it. There, the view of the sea was the reward for all their hard work. The travelers gazed out over the cliff-bordered bays and pristine beaches, and Ida thought painfully of Bahia. She remembered exactly how the warm sand had felt between her toes, how the sea had washed around her feet . . . and she had to force herself not to think of Karl’s shining eyes. Karl, who had loved Bahia as much as she had. Karl, who had asked her to stay in paradise with him. Back then, she had thought of it as temptation, and she had been proud of herself for being able to resist. But even if it would have been a sin, she couldn’t stop dreaming about it. About Bahia, about Karl . . . and about his kiss.
In the evenings they camped in the protection of the forest, their muskets close at hand; Ottfried and Gibson felt safer that way. Cat could only laugh. If there were Maori in the area, they would be keeping an eye on the travelers, and any kind of attack would surprise Ottfried and Gibson, no matter how many times they reassured each other that they were in control.
The four of them had come to the decision that it would be best to pretend they were two settler couples who were traveling south looking for land. That was how Cat could introduce them to the Maori, at least, if they came across any villages or patrols. With any luck, the natives would let them pass, expecting to find only household goods and building materials in the cover
ed wagons and nothing particularly valuable. Cat spent her days on the seat next to Gibson, who remained silent and never made any attempt to touch her. Ottfried must have told him how quick she was with her knife.
On the other wagon, Ida and Ottfried were equally quiet. The atmosphere was tense, even in the evening when Ida created delicious meals in spite of their meager provisions. Both Cat and Gibson were careful to supplement their diet with fish, berries, and roots, and occasionally even caught birds in snares.
Gibson was much better prepared for life in the wilderness than Ottfried, and Cat would have liked to know how he’d come by his knowledge, but she didn’t ask. She wanted as little contact with the men as possible, and was happy when she could crawl into one of the tents with Ida after the evening meal. Ottfried and Gibson shared the other. If any Maori were actually watching them, the scouts must find their behavior strange.
In order to keep themselves from the temptation of drinking all the whiskey they had intended for trade, Gibson and Ottfried didn’t look at the goods loaded in the wagons. They left them secured under the covers. The two tents and immediate provisions were kept under the front seats. But one day, when it had been raining heavily and the women desperately needed dry clothing, Cat did peek under the cover. She withdrew in shock when, instead of the cheap clothing Gibson wanted to sell to the Maori, she saw a pale, delicate face. Elsbeth Lange blinked in the unaccustomed light.
“Betty!”
Then a second stowaway’s face appeared: Erich Brandmann.
“Please don’t be mad,” Elsbeth whispered. “It would be better if you don’t tell the others about us.”
But it was too late for that. Cat’s shout of surprise had brought Gibson, who peered under the cover and laughed.
“I can’t believe it, it’s Romeo and Juliet!” Gibson held out his hand gallantly to Elsbeth to help her down from the wagon.
“No, we’re Eric and Betty, sir,” Erich said, and looked surprised when Gibson seemed even more amused.
