by Sarah Lark
Paxton led the sisters to the ship’s dining hall, which was richly decorated with crystal chandeliers, carved wooden paneling, and furniture that looked like it belonged in the ballroom of an English manor house. As he walked, he confided with a smile that he had his cousin to thank for his first-class ticket.
“The British Army only pays for the cheapest tickets. But when Tommy heard that I was on board, he arranged a better cabin for me. In truth, I don’t care much about the soft bed, but I’m very much looking forward to Tommy’s cooking.”
“Why is the army sending you to Southland, anyway?” Chris asked, gallantly pushing in Cat’s chair for her. Paxton did the same for Linda and Carol, no less elegantly. “The South Island is almost all Ngai Tahu tribes, and they’re quite peaceful.”
Paxton nodded and sat down between Linda and Carol. “Of course.” He smiled bitterly. “And if there were a real problem, Wellington would send an entire army, not me. Two years ago, General Pratt led two thousand soldiers against the tribes from Waikato. We were constantly stepping on each other’s feet. Whereas the Maori only had about fifteen hundred warriors. But they know their way around. We bombarded their fort for an entire night. What do they call it?”
“A pa,” Cat said.
Paxton nodded. “Exactly, a pa. And the next day, we discovered that the place had been given up as soon as the first few cannonballs were fired. No one knows how the people snuck out. There were no fatalities, thank God. I’m not supposed to say that, but it seemed terribly unfair to me to attack with cannons when the natives could only defend themselves with spears and clubs.”
“The Maori didn’t have muskets?” Carol asked in surprise.
“They did.” Paxton picked up the menu, clearly uncomfortable. “But they were hopelessly outgunned. Besides, I don’t think they like to fight.”
“Some of the chieftains are very warlike,” Cat explained. “They just approach battles differently than the English do. They don’t launch huge campaigns with thousands of soldiers; instead, they attack in short skirmishes. And when it’s time to sow the fields, they postpone the war until after the first harvest.”
“All the saber-rattling is important too,” Chris added. “They often make a great show of intimidation so they don’t have to attack at all. Or they disappear, as you experienced at that pa. The chieftains may not have written or read books about the art of war, but they’re very inventive.”
“One chieftain is supposed to have flown away over a cliff, hanging from a kite, after he had been captured and was being held prisoner somewhere,” Linda said.
Paxton smiled. “You seem very well acquainted with Maori traditions.”
Chris explained about his work as a translator for the New Zealand Company, and Cat talked about her childhood with the Ngati Toa.
A uniformed waiter served aperitifs and a shrimp cocktail as an appetizer.
“You still haven’t told us why you’re going to the South Island now,” Carol said. “What are you doing there for the army? Spying, perhaps?” She grinned mischievously.
Paxton laughed. “Your parents would make much better spies, Miss Carol. I personally don’t speak a word of the Maori language. In Taranaki, I was just a liaison officer between the volunteer native troops and the army from Australia. Sometimes it was worse than a real war. The Maori troops weren’t interested in following orders, but they understood what was happening locally. And the Australians didn’t understand why they were there in the first place. Thank goodness they’ve been sent home now.”
“Will they be brought back if the conflict flares up again?” Chris said.
“No,” Paxton said, and took a sip of champagne. “Instead, new troops will be recruited in New Zealand. The unit even has a name: the Taranaki Military Settlers. And that’s why a few other officers and I are being sent to the South Island, Miss Carol—we’re recruiting. At whaling stations and in places like Lyttelton where settlers arrive. We’re going to the gold prospectors’ camps next. Anywhere young men are trying their luck.”
“And you promise them that luck?” Chris sounded skeptical.
Paxton shrugged, looking depressed. “I promise them land. And they won’t be disappointed. In Taranaki, there are thousands of acres of excellent farmland that the government is prepared to give the settlers for free.”
“What does that mean?” Cat asked. “Settlers who want the land have to fight the Maori for it first?”
“Something like that,” Paxton admitted. “The land is being taken away from rebellious Maori tribes under the New Zealand Settlements Act. Unfortunately, the Maori aren’t always aware of the law—”
Cat laughed cynically. “That’s an interesting way of putting it. According to what my surveyor friend Karl tells me, the government’s not actually bothering to differentiate between rebellious tribes and nonrebellious ones. They just confiscate what they want. It’s understandable that it makes the people angry.”
Paxton pressed his lips together. “The conflict with the tribes can be solved peaceably in most cases,” he replied. “There’s enough land for everyone. And if you go about it a little diplomatically, most tribes are willing to sell. Unfortunately, not all of the government officials keep their word. And now there’s the Hauhau movement to deal with as well. I don’t know if you’ve heard about it?”
Chris and Cat nodded.
“A preacher with strange visions,” Cat said. “Is he that big a concern?”
Paxton snorted. “You must not have heard the latest news. But it’s no subject for a formal dinner with ladies. I’ll just say this much: Haumene must be stopped. We don’t need bloodthirsty fanatics and cannibals running around. There were certainly mistakes made in the land-claiming process. But after they hear Haumene’s ravings, the Maori see themselves as victims. They’re forming bands of marauders.” He rubbed his brow. “The governor wants to protect the settlers from their attacks. That’s why we’re planning fortifications around new settlements, and recruiting settlers who know how to use weapons. The members of the new regiment will be trained and given battle experience—and each will be granted twenty acres to start a farm on.”
“It’ll work. Your recruits will fight bitterly to keep what they think is theirs much harder than they would if they were just soldiers,” Cat said, shaking her head. She remembered the settlers in Sankt Pauli Village battling the elements to save their farms. “The Maori won’t stand a chance.”
Paxton turned up his palms helplessly. “I can’t do anything about it, Mrs. Fenroy. The tribes are allowing Te Ua Haumene to preach in their villages, and aren’t stopping their sons from slaughtering settlers in the name of peace and love. And now we really must change the subject. What brings you to the south, Miss Linda, Miss Carol? A wedding, you said? But not your own?”
The rest of the evening passed pleasantly. Paxton chatted enthusiastically about the wonders of his home, and accompanied Linda and Carol for a stroll around the deck. Cat and Chris followed at an appropriate distance and were delighted by the silver shimmering of the waves in the moonlight. They gazed at the stars and the distant coastline.
“Some of the beaches are supposed to be breathtakingly beautiful,” Chris said when the travelers finally returned to their cabins. “If the weather is nice tomorrow, we can spend the entire day on deck if you want.”
Cat smiled. “Sounds nice,” she said. “Now come get in bed. We’ve made love under the stars many times, but never with the sound of water lapping on a ship’s hull. I’m going to feel like that girl in the ballad from the Orkney Islands. You know, the mortal who falls in love with a selkie.”
Cat loved romantic stories. During the sheep drive, she loved it when the Scottish and Irish farmhands sang old songs by the fire.
Chris kissed her. “As long as you don’t insist I turn into a seal, or sing . . .”
Chapter 18
Cat and Chris spent several wonderful days aboard the General Lee. During that time, Cat really did feel as
though she were on her honeymoon. The weather was perfect, and the coastal scenery—a mixture of pastoral beauty and craggy cliffs—was breathtaking. Bill Paxton hadn’t exaggerated about his cousin’s cooking talent either. Tommy Paxton spoiled his guests, and in the evening, a band played.
Linda and Carol also enjoyed the trip far more than they had expected to. Linda was still sad about Joe Fitzpatrick. Who knew what would have come of their flirtation if he hadn’t disappeared from Christchurch? It had also been difficult for Carol to part from Oliver. But now she was enjoying Bill Paxton’s attention. When he was free from duty, George Wallis also joined them. The second officer of the General Lee turned out to be an excellent dancer. He was much more coordinated than Oliver, whom Carol had to beg at least three times before he took her on the dance floor at the Sheep Breeders’ Ball. Now, she happily allowed George to twirl her around in time with the band. She laughed when the sea was a little rough and seemed to be trying to throw her out of rhythm. Bill Paxton danced with Linda, but it was obvious that he would have preferred to dance with Carol. He had reserved the last dance of the evening with her right from the start, and Carol didn’t turn him down. She felt flattered by his attention, at least as long as Linda didn’t mind.
“You’re not in love with him or Mr. Wallis, are you?” Carol asked Linda on the second evening as they fell into their beds, tired and happy.
“No. They’re both very nice. But there’s no spark. Sometimes I think I don’t have the right receptors for it. You seem to flirt easily, and all the men are crazy about you. But me, sometimes I think I’m not interested in men. At least, not most of them.” Linda couldn’t shake off the thought that, so far, Joe Fitzpatrick was the only man who had managed to “capture her heart.” Linda knew that expression from the penny dreadfuls, and she thought it silly and clichéd. Yet somehow it described exactly the way Fitz had made her feel. Fitz’s gaze, his smile, just his presence . . . He hadn’t even put a hand on her except to help her out of the boat, but Linda could still remember the feelings of closeness and trust that touch had evoked. When she was with Fitz, just a word or even a thought had been enough to make her laugh or cry. She didn’t know if that was love. She certainly didn’t feel anything like it when she thought about Bill Paxton or George Wallis.
Of course, both Paxton and Wallis were gentlemen, and certainly weren’t about to neglect Linda. It was also clear that George Wallis wasn’t hung up on either of the young ladies. He was equally polite and kind to both. Toward the end of the trip, he asked Linda to accompany him to the last ball of their voyage. It was to take place on their last evening, following a gala dinner. The afternoon of the next day, the ship would arrive in Campbelltown. Paxton had already asked Carol. He wanted to have her to himself.
There was a dress code for the ball. Carol and Linda excitedly helped each other into the gowns that they’d packed for the Halliday wedding. Cat, too, got out her ball gown, and Chris thought she was more beautiful than any other woman on the ship.
Cat’s dress was made of shiny silver silk. She wore her pearl jewelry, and the low-cut bodice showed the tops of her breasts. Her waist was as slender as a girl’s, as—making a rare exception—she had worn a corset. Cat had pinned up her honey-blonde hair, and pulled down several fetching strands on either side of her face. Her brown eyes glowed, and she was followed by the eyes of all the men in the dining hall. Chris proudly led her to the table. He couldn’t stop admiring his wife’s beauty.
“Enjoy it while it lasts,” she warned him. “This corset is killing me. I don’t understand how women can stand to wear these things every day! And I can hardly eat anything. It’s a terrible pity with such a fantastic meal, but I can’t get down more than a few bites. I will certainly be leaving early this evening.”
Chris smiled. “We will leave early,” he said, correcting her. “I’m also eager to get you out of that dress . . .”
Cat made it through dinner, but after just one dance with Chris, she surrendered.
“Let’s go, darling. We can bring a bottle of champagne to the cabin and celebrate there. The voyage was wonderful, Chris, indescribable! Booking first class was the best idea you’ve ever had. But I have to get out of this whalebone cage or I’ll scream.”
“I just feel sorry for the girls,” Chris said as one of the waiters brought them a champagne cooler with two bottles on ice. “I’m sure they’d like to stay longer.”
Cat looked over to where Carol and Linda were dancing with their admirers. Their gowns had hoopskirts and corsets, too, but the restrictive garments didn’t seem to bother them. Linda wore a powder-blue gown and Cat’s necklace set with blue stones. Carol’s dress shimmered in dusty rose, and she wore a necklace made of coral. Both sisters’ hair cascaded in loose ringlets down their backs; they must have spent hours curling it. All that work just for a few dances! Chris was right, they would be disappointed. Cat briefly considered just leaving them alone at the ball, but that would go against every rule of etiquette. Sighing, she called them over and steeled herself for their protests.
“It’s only nine o’clock!” Carol cried. “We’ve only had two dances. You can’t do that, Mamaca! Come, sit down and have another drink. You have to give us at least another hour.”
“Longer!” Linda demanded. “In an hour, it will only be ten. The fireworks are at eleven. We have to stay at least until then. Please, Mamaca, Chris, we promise not to do anything foolish!”
“We’ll take good care of your daughters,” Bill Paxton assured them. “And we would never take advantage in any way, you may rest assured.”
Cat and Chris looked at each other regretfully. They hated to spoil the evening for the girls, and they trusted that everyone would behave. But there were acquaintances from Christchurch aboard, and Cat and Chris didn’t need their lax parenting to be the talk of the town.
“It’s not possible, girls, as sorry as I am,” Cat said finally. “I knew I shouldn’t have bought this dress. I take full responsibility, but I can’t change it. So, say goodbye for now. You’ll dance at many more balls.”
But of course, Bill Paxton and George Wallis didn’t pass up the opportunity to walk the family across the deck.
“Such a pity there are no stars tonight,” Linda said.
“It’s also getting cold,” Carol added, pulling her shawl tight around her shoulders. “And choppy.”
Wallis nodded and offered Linda his arm as the ship began to sway. “Yes, it looks like a storm is brewing. I might have had to leave the festivities early tonight anyway. The captain may call the officers to the bridge.”
“It’s not going to be dangerous, is it?” Cat asked, holding on to Chris tightly.
Wallis shook his head. “No, Mrs. Fenroy, don’t worry about that. We’re very close to the coast. However, it could become quite turbulent. I hope you don’t get seasick.”
He politely said good night to Cat and Chris, and gallantly took his leave from Linda and Carol. Carol was still whispering with Bill Paxton, and they exchanged a conspiratorial smile before the sisters descended to their cabin, observed by Cat and Chris.
“You aren’t going to be unfaithful to Oliver, are you?” Linda said, teasing. “All those long looks with Mr. Paxton. Come, help me out of this corset.” She reached for the buttons on her dress.
Carol shook her head. “Keep your dress on. Mr. Paxton is waiting on deck for both of us. We just want a few more dances. I would never betray Oliver!”
She glanced in the mirror and checked her appearance, and then nearly staggered. The ship was beginning to pitch unpredictably.
“You want to go back to the ball? Without Cat and Chris?” Linda asked in disbelief.
“Of course!” Carol tidied her hair. “Lindy, the ball only just started. We aren’t going to let them spoil our fun, are we?”
“But what about the Hestons and the Wesserlys? Cat’s right. They would gossip terribly about us in Christchurch.” Linda didn’t mention Mrs. Butler and how she’d react to
rumors about her future daughter-in-law.
“If you ask me, they probably didn’t even notice that Cat and Chris left,” Carol said unworriedly. “And with the rough seas, they’ll probably be back in their cabin already. Mr. Heston was seasick the day before yesterday even with the tiny waves, and Mrs. Wesserly has been complaining since the beginning of the voyage. They’re guaranteed to be gone soon. Anyway, we have to wait here for half an hour to be sure that Chris and Cat are asleep . . . or too busy otherwise to hear us in the corridor.”
The girls giggled.
“So, what do you think? I can’t go alone.” Carol gave her sister a challenging look.
Linda nodded. “All right. I really want to see the fireworks. I’ve only seen them once, and it was so beautiful. Let me use the mirror. I need to check my hair.”
Linda and Carol spent the next half hour impatiently combing their hair and adjusting their gowns. Carol was right: the seas were getting rougher, and there was regular traffic in the corridor as the older passengers of the General Lee opted to ride out the storm in their cabins.
“We just have to catch a moment when no one is rushing to the privies,” Carol whispered as the girls finally opened the door and peered out. “Some of them have surely been sick already. The ship is bucking like a horse! Do you have your shawl?”
Linda shook her head, and then took two wide, hooded cloaks out of the closet.
“We’ll take these instead,” she said. “It must be pouring out there. Come now!”
She threw a cloak around her sister’s shoulders and stepped into the corridor. The ship was rolling so wildly that they were thrown from one wall to the other. As they climbed onto deck, they were almost tossed back down the stairs, and were immediately met with a deluge of ice-cold rain. But Bill Paxton had kept his word, and was waiting under an awning.
“I was afraid you wouldn’t come back in this storm,” he said with a grin. “I see you’ve got tenacity!”
