The Spanish Helmet (16 page)

‘Are you cold or do you have other motives behind your special fashion choices?’

‘Other motives, of course.
My Mum will be so proud that I’m still wearing her purple creation. You’ve got no idea how special it can be to a knitting addict to see your grown children proudly wearing your pullovers.’

She was right. The front door of the house opened and Aimee’s parents warmly greeted them, her mother commenting on the pullover and how lovely it looked on, before inviting them in.

As Matt walked through the door, he confirmed that indeed the Corolla was still parked within line of sight. There was no question they were being watched. He smiled at himself as he imagined how bored the occupant must be.

  * * *

Hemi was far from bored. Arriving in Whakatane had been a trip down memory lane.
A trip that started when Matthew Cameron stopped to pick up his travelling companion.
It was when he saw Aimee come out of her house that it hit him, his realising just how small a place New Zealand can be.
Bloody hell
,
Aimee Kingsbridge
.
Don’t tell me you’re tied up in this mess.

He hadn’t seen Aimee for years.
Since their days together at Whakatane High School in fact.
She wouldn’t remember him, but he remembered her. Hemi had a massive crush on Aimee for years. They were in English and History together. She was a real history buff, so maybe she went on to University. Hemi, on the other hand, was the fat Maori kid in the back corner of the room. No one noticed him, except for a couple of his cousins. Of course the army had changed him. Even if she did remember little fat Hemi, she wouldn’t be able to pick him out in a line-up. Not in a million years. Had Warren set this up too? Hemi decided to keep it to himself to see how it panned out. If Warren didn’t already know, he didn’t need to. Until she proved otherwise, Hemi would treat Aimee as an innocent bystander.

When they drew closer, Hemi realised he would have to confront his hometown. He tapped the steering wheel faster with each mile. Fifteen years stood between Hemi and Whakatane. As they drove down King Street it fully struck him. His old haunt. As a kid, he would hang about with friends outside the Kope Four Square dairy, stuffing themselves with lollies or greasies from the fish and chip shop, where the 20 cent spacies were. But then the Maori Wardens came along and ruined all of that. Bloody wannabe cops. It was even more embarrassing for Hemi though, when his dad would come along. The other kids hated him. As he drove past the Four Square his eyes flooded with tears. Thank God he knew this place like the back of his hand. Otherwise he might not have been able to continue driving. Seeing his school pissed him off even more. If it wasn’t for his father’s death, Hemi would have gone on to greater things. He could have gone to uni. Instead, here he was working as a spy. Not that he minded
,
it gave him a chance to seek his justice. Now, as he sat on Pohutukawa Ave and watched Matthew and Aimee enter her parents house, he couldn’t help but feel nostalgic. Mr. Kingsbridge had been Hemi’s favourite teacher. He would have loved to have gone up to say hello. But he couldn’t. Having realised who Matthew Cameron was travelling
with,
Hemi now had another dimension to his mission. Aimee had to be protected, and that probably meant protecting Dr. Cameron too.

Satisfied that they weren’t coming out again that night, Hemi got to work. He needed to know where they were if he lost sight of them. That meant a bug, and not just any bug, a special one hand-made by Leigh. He knew the model of navigation system that Warren had in the car he lent to Matthew and had asked Leigh to put together a special version of the same model. Only this Navigon had a few added features and an extra unit that would be fitted under the car.

Hemi carefully released the locks and climbed in to the passenger seat. The first part was easy. He simply unplugged the USB cord from the GPS device and removed it from the window suction holder. The replacement unit went into place and you couldn’t tell the difference. He closed the car and lowered himself to a lying position to move on to part two, installing the relay transmitter which would receive the weak signal in the GPS unit and re-transmit it over much bigger distances. He fastened it to the undercarriage with some cable ties and connected it to a twelve volt supply. The red LED lit up, telling Hemi that it would receive signals, sent from the minute transmitter in the replacement GPS device, and relay them up to three kilometres away. With ease and in just two minutes, a standard car navigation system was sending all audible content from its microphone, along with the current position of the vehicle, on a government limited frequency. Hemi loved this work. Standing up again as he finished, he rubbed the bum of his pants and removed the dust he had collected. Back in his own car he confirmed that a signal was available. It was. Leigh was owed a box of chocolates.

  * * *

Dinner at Aimee’s parents’ had been great. Mr. Kingsbridge, as he was referred to not just by his students but also by his wife, was a riot. The evening had been filled with laughter as he regaled everyone with his school tales. Aimee’s face had turned red more than once. She seemed to have been quite the spectacle in school. Matt couldn’t help but be drawn to her.
Mischievous and fun, yet sensible and studious.

Half way through dessert they were joined by Mike, the history teacher Aimee had liked so much. Matt understood the attraction. He was one of those examples of everything a teacher should be.
Funny, interesting, passionate, wise, and approachable.
When they talked, Matt felt an immediate sense of chatting with an old friend.
With everyone at the table actually.
It was homely.

 ‘Aimee said she recalls you talking about ships arriving long before the commonly accepted discovery of New Zealand,’ Matt said, prompting Mike.

Mike’s face grew serious. Mr. Kingsbridge also sat forward and mirrored Mike’s expression.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Mike said.

‘Oh. I’m sorry.’ Matt looked at Aimee for help. ‘I just thought...’

The room was filled with laughter. Mike had to practically hold himself on his chair he was shaking so hard.

‘Sorry Matthew. It’s just too irresistible not to have a little fun with you. I’m guessing you know that these subjects can be treated with some trepidation here.’

‘So I’ve heard.’

‘Seriously though.
It’s
incredible Aimee remembers the story. As it happens, it only really came to light in 1991 right when she was in my history class. The story had been around for a lot longer, but it was printed in a Maori newspaper. When it was translated and published as a small segment of a book by one of New Zealand’s most important historians, I first heard of it. It was an important book, full of history, but of everything in that book, it was the page about some mysterious fishermen that grabbed my attention.’

There was a pause. Matt used it to make
himself
more comfortable. The mood could only have been improved if the dining table had been replaced with a campfire and their chairs with logs. He was hanging on every word that Mike spoke.

‘The story was told by Mohi Turei, a respected scribe and clergyman from the Ngati Porou tribe,’ Mike continued. ‘The Ngati Porou
are
from the east cape, that’s the area to the east of us. Not more than a good half day’s drive away.’

Matt watched as a far-away gaze fell over Mike’s face.

‘One peaceful night, the men went out fishing. The sea was calm. There was no wind as the canoes floated in the pre-dawn light waiting for a land breeze to carry them to their fishing grounds. As the dawn glow bathed the ocean in its warmth, the canoes were whisked to their chosen spot and the fishermen dropped anchor and began to fish for Tarakihi. When the sun lifted into the sky, it illuminated the waters and revealed a boat in the far off distance. The boat, which was bigger than any they had ever seen, paddled toward them. The paddlers sat on each side and there were more rows of people who sat in between them. They could also see a man standing at each end of the boat. Such was the boat’s greatness that the men were afraid, for a boat this big must be a war canoe.’

Mike looked at each person in the room. Matt glanced around too. He wasn’t sure how often the others had heard this story, but they all appeared to be as eager to hear it as he was. Mike looked at him directly and continued.

‘They watched, afraid, as the boat floated toward them. Closer and closer it came. Then, before it reached them, the paddles were lifted out of the water and the boat turned as it floated where it lay. As it turned, her true size became apparent to the fishermen. The number of the crew and the measure of the boat were far greater than they had at first realised.’

One of the dining chairs creaked. Matt didn’t know who had shifted their weight. No one said a word. Only Mike’s voice broke the silence again.

‘As the fisherman watched, the men on the boat started to do something familiar. They were baiting fishing lines and throwing them into the sea on either side of the boat. The fisherman watched in awe as the newcomers hauled in huge numbers of fish. Each line carried a dozen or more and there were lines all up and down both sides of the boat. This excited the fisherman and their fear was forgotten in their greed. Their leader gave a signal and they raised the anchors and hurried in the direction of the biting fish. As they got closer, the people on the large boat collected up their lines, giving the Maori a chance to see them closer up. These men were different, appearing very strange to the locals. As a team, the newcomers raised their anchor, everyone in the middle of the boat chanting and pulling on a rope in harmony. The language of their chant was not one that the Maori knew, but the words sounded like this.’

Matthew caught Aimee’s eye. It was obvious from the look in them that this was the part she remembered from school. She was mesmerised and hanging on to Mike’s words. Mike cleared his throat.

‘Ka whakatakotoria... Ki te ika te wa o tu... E ko te tae o tu...
E
kore
rarii
.
That was the chant as they pulled on the rope. When the anchor was on board the newcomers took up their paddles and chanted as they moved about. Their words sounded like... Pakepakeha, pakepakeha... Hoihoi
hii
,
hoihoi
hii
...
Hiho
hoo
,
hihi
hii
.’

Aimee stifled a laugh. Her father glared at her. But Mike just smiled, oblivious to the disturbance. Finished with the chant, he relaxed a bit again and sat back to continue.

‘The Maori could now plainly see the occupants of the boat. They were turehu, fairy people. They were punehunehu, misty looking.
Ma, which means fair or white and ma korako, which means pale like albinos.
The boat turned and the newcomers retraced their arrival route, leaving by the same waters. As the Maori watched, the boat seemed to rise up on the sea as if they were paddling in mid air and they were lost in the billowing white clouds. The Maori knew that these must be fairy people, evil gods, or stillborn and whistling spirits. They were sighted many times before and after that day. Their chants are still remembered and the place where they chanted was called the Haka of the god. Mohi Turei tells that this boat of fairy people was seen long before the arrival of Captain Cook.’

Matt waited to be sure that the story was finished.

‘They chanted pakepakeha?’ Aimee asked, confirming the story was over.

‘Yes.’ Mike said. ‘It’s suggested that this could be the origin of the word Pakeha in its usage in context of white people.’

‘And who do you think the people in the boat were?’ Matt asked.

‘Your guess is as good as mine. But the historian who published the story in English suggested that it was probably remembering the visit of Abel Tasman. I think it’s older though.’

‘Fascinating.
I wonder if it could have been the Spanish.’

‘Some say that Fernandez made it here. There’s also plenty of speculation about other Spanish ships, not to mention Portuguese. Until now though, any evidence is only circumstantial.’

‘We hope to change that, don’t we Matt?’ Aimee said.

Matt smiled. If he was able to find real evidence that the tale he just heard was true, it would be the proudest moment of his life.