Tommo & Hawk (27 page)

And then a large voice rings out. 'Ork! Ork good!' And this is followed by a great laugh which resounds in the gathering dusk. It is none other than Hammerhead Jack!

My old friend soon has me ensconced in a large hut where a couple of plump older wahines minister to me. They cut away my blouse and gently remove the coarse linen from the broken wounds on my back, laughing every time I wince, as though it is a huge joke. They clap their hands whenever I find a word to use in their language.

The women make a poultice of leaves and sticky ointment which they apply tenderly to my skin, packing it in with black mud which is left to dry. Whatever the medicine is, my back is soon quite comfortable. Next they remove Tommo's turbanned bandage and shave the hair from the back of my head using the edge of a sharpened shell, which proves most effective. They laugh at my springy black curls, which one of the women gathers in her hand and cups to her thighs. After much cackling at this, they tend my head wound most caringly.

I drink what must be a gallon of water, and eat a large dish of yams and sweet potatoes with a little meat mixed in. Finally the kind women remove the poultices and bathe me, laughing all the more when I will not submit to the removal of my breeches. They carefully wrap a blanket around my shoulders.

It is well into the evening, with a three-quarter moon risen in a clear, clean starry heaven, when I am taken to the marae, the meeting place to attend a hui, a gathering of the men.

I am asked most politely to sit on a bright woven mat before the elders, the runanga, while the rest of the men are seated behind me. This, I surmise, is the kawa of the marae -good etiquette, which shows respect for me. Hammerhead Jack then addresses the gathering, speaking too quickly for me to understand everything he is saying. I soon realise, however, that he is telling of our voyage and the killing of the sperm whale. He points often to me, whereupon the elders facing me smile and those behind me murmur their approval.

My giant friend's arm socket is much improved and the skin, though tender in appearance, has no suppuration and is clean and healthy looking. The wound from his missing eye has healed up completely, the skin about the socket puckered like a Christmas prune. In the meantime, the left eye seems to have grown curiously larger and brighter in his huge head, and it is not so difficult to believe that his godhead lives there. This eye is most commanding. It opens wide and darts about as he talks, almost as though he is a cyclops.

Hammerhead Jack has the same air of authority about him as he did on board ship, while he still shows respect and pays obeisance to his chief. The chief is a man not much older than him, a tall solidly built rangatira, though somewhat smaller in stature than the whaleman. Finally, with a grand sweep of his good arm and a big smile, Hammerhead Jack points to me and says, 'Ork, good!' Then he bids me stand. After much poking out of his tongue and slapping of his thighs, he finally rubs noses with me.

Amidst cheering and clapping, the chief, whose name is Wiremu Tamihana, bids me sit again. He calls out and beckons to someone seated behind me. Presently a young Maori about my age comes to the front and, speaking in tolerably good English, translates the chief's speech of welcome to me. I later learn that Wiremu Tamihana speaks excellent English and has been well educated by missionaries but chooses not to use the invaders' tongue.

Chief Wiremu Tamihana first thanks me for saving Hammerhead Jack's life and says that his people are much honoured to have a brave man among them. He asks me to remove my blanket and show the lashes I have taken on behalf of his tribesman.

'Here is a man who has given his blood for the Maori people! Is he not our brother and welcome in the Ngati Haua tribe?' the young translator declares.

The chief tells me I am welcome to stay and that they will hide me from the pakeha policemen who might come looking. There is no mention of the death of Hori Hura and it is clear they do not see me as guilty of any crime against one of their own people.

The Maori chief ends by saying that his people cannot trust Queen Victoria, who has taken their mana, their land, their prestige, and their substance, from them and left them only the shadow. They have twenty muskets and ammunition and the men are well trained in the use of the taiaha, the fighting stick which, during earlier skirmishes against the pakeha, proved much superior to the British soldier's bayonet.

At this the men show their delight, stamping their feet and slapping their thighs to make a thunderous whacking noise which reverberates through the dark night. The chief then holds up his hand to silence them. 'We cannot fight the pakeha. We are one tribe only and too few. We must come together. All the Maori people must speak with one voice.'

Some of the men voice their consternation when he says this and I can see the elders are not of one accord on the matter. But Chief Tamihana does not wish to discuss it and, instead, invites me to talk.

I am still not well and have only a little voice left, so I ask the young Maori who speaks English to stand close. I speak slowly, using as many Maori words as I am able, and thank them for saving my life. I offer my service to the tribe, though I have no training in firearms and admit that, despite my size, I am no warrior. I have never killed a man.

'We will teach you, Ork!' Hammerhead Jack shouts jovially. 'It is much easier than killing a whale!'

This is followed by much laughter from the others and I begin to wonder whether my offer was wise. When the merriment lessens, I agree with their chief that the Maori people must speak as one voice. 'Many voices speaking at the same time can only be heard as a babble,' I say. 'The pakeha have the governor who can listen to their many voices and speak for them as one voice. Their unity is their strength.' I do not take this further, for the chief has already made his point.

'I can read and write and have some knowledge of how the white man thinks,' I say, thinking this a poor substitute for these warriors' experience, but it is all I have. 'I have studied the methods by which the soldiers of Queen Victoria fight and this may also be useful. To know the mind of the enemy is always of some advantage.'

'And how was the mind of the enemy, Captain O'Hara, when we chopped off his hand?' Hammerhead Jack asks gleefully. It is clear they all know the story, because there is another wave of laughter among the men.

'I am not sure that it was a wise thing to do,' I say, trying to force a smile.

Now the men are completely silent and I can see from the expression on Hammerhead Jack's face that he is confused.

Then the chief addresses me in English, to my surprise. 'Ork, do you know much of the missionary talk?'

'Some,' I say. 'But I am not of their faith.'

'Me neither, though I know some of their ways,' he says, as the lad now translates his words back into Maori for the elders. 'Does it not say an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth in the missionary's black book?' I nod. Indicating Hammerhead Jack, the chief continues, 'Well, my blood brother has lost his eye and not taken the white man's eye in return!' He points at the shoulder joint which once held the giant Maori's arm. 'And the pakeha has taken my brother's arm and we have only taken a hand in return. Why is this not wise?'

'The pakeha have laws which, when they are disobeyed, lead to severe punishment. We should not take the law into our own hands but must wait for a proper judgment,' I reply, though it sounds rather foolish even to me.

But the chief does not at once dismiss this. 'Ha!' he exclaims. 'Then which is the more important, the laws of Queen Victoria or the laws of the pakeha God?'

'In theory, the laws of God.' The chief can see that I am struggling with my reply and raises his hand.

'We are told that we must obey Queen Victoria, who is the most powerful pakeha. But we are also told that even she must obey the Christian God. Is that not true?'

'It is true, but...' I begin.

The chief stops me. 'So, the laws of the Christian God say we must take an eye for an eye and an arm for an arm. When we take only a hand in return for an eye and an arm, and do not return the beating you took and the other Maori took to their backs, why will the pakeha whaling captain think we have acted badly?'

Tamihana pauses. 'I am told he is a Christian. Why, under the laws of his own God, should he not be grateful for losing only his hand?'

It is difficult to argue with the flow of his reasoning. I have read the Bible twice over, and there is much within it I have come to respect. To me, the stumbling block has always been that men piously preach God's laws on the Sabbath, but practise man's laws on the following six days. Any fool may see that the two are in direct contradiction - that in fact greed and corruption transcend charity and compassion in society.

'The Maori have much to fear from the pakeha laws but we cannot defeat them by ignoring them,' I venture. 'We must learn to use their own laws against them.'

'Ha!' The chief points to Hammerhead Jack. 'Like my brother, the pakeha laws have only one eye. The other is blind and cannot see the Maori people. The governor never does anything if a Maori is killed - only when a pakeha is killed!'

I shrug. 'The white man will not leave New Zealand. They will not go away. Queen Victoria has the Treaty of Waitangi, the paper which is signed by many of the Maori chiefs.'

'Then we must tear it from her hand! She has stolen our mana!' the chief replies.

'It is said that since the Maori people have learned to use the pakeha guns, they have killed more than twenty thousand of their own people and as many have died from the white man's diseases. There are now as many pakeha as Maori in New Zealand.' I know this from reading the Colonial Times back in Hobart Town.

The chief shows no surprise at my words, and sighs. 'You are right, Ork. We are allowed to kill each other as we please and Queen Victoria does nothing to stop us. Only if we kill the pakeha must we go to gaol. Is this not strange? Did she not swear at the Treaty that the Maori and the pakeha would be the same under her law? Or do you think Queen Victoria likes us to kill each other so the white man will soon become greater in number than the Maori?'

'What can I say? I am young and not wise.' I take a deep breath and gather my courage. 'But you are right, Chief Tamihana, you will only be strong when you speak with one voice. Now you are single tribes and can easily be divided. As long as tribe fights tribe and Maori hates Maori, the pakeha will always win. Believe me, I am on your side, Wiremu Tamihana. The pakeha do not win because their laws are more just or their God is more powerful, but because they all fight for one Queen.'

The chief nods. 'I will think upon this. I am the ariki, the descendant of the eldest son of the eldest son of each generation since the Maori came here from beyond the clouds and the bending of the earth line. I will talk to the ancestors.' Then he asks again, 'You think the Maori must have a leader, like Queen Victoria?'

The notion is, I can see, a new one for Tamihana, who frowns as he thinks about what I have said. 'It is not for me to say, Chief Tamihana. I do not know the Maori customs.' I search for further explanations. 'But one big tribe which fights together under one leader will win the war over many smaller ones which fight alone.'

'Ah! One tribe, one war! You are a good man, Ork.' The chief smiles.

'Ork good!' Hammerhead Jack cries, amidst much cheering.

I wait until the noise has died down. 'I would like to ask something for myself?' I say to the chief.

Chief Tamihana nods, granting me permission to make my request. I turn to Hammerhead Jack.

'My brother, Tommo? Can we find out what has happened to him?'

The men laugh anew and I look about me in distress. How can they laugh at this? Hammerhead Jack knows we are twins and very close. He grins broadly. 'Ho! The little axe man!' His single eye grows wide and shines bright, as though it has taken in the light from the missing other. 'Tommo is Maori also! He will join you in two days, Ork.' He holds up two fingers. 'We will welcome him when he comes. We have taken him another way to confuse the pakeha policeman. He is with the old man and the others who were together with us in the whaleboat.' Hammerhead Jack takes a step towards me and puts his huge single arm about my shoulder. 'Tommo good! Ork good!'

I try very hard to restrain myself, but all can see the bright tears that run down my cheeks and the stupid smile upon my black face. Though we are fugitives, for the moment Tommo and I have beaten the mongrels.

TOMMO

The Land of the Long White Cloud

June 1858

We has been gone nearly two years from Hobart Town and has lived among the Maori for over a year. We's playing it safe even though there was never any warrant for our arrest. From what we've heard the authorities believe that the Maori attacking the prison was seeking revenge for the death of Hori Hura. No doubt we's thought to be well and truly dead! The government troopers wasn't too keen to come in search of us even if we was still alive, for there be a growing dispute between the white settlers and the Maori people over possession o' the land. A bad quarrel is brewin' as the settlers becomes more greedy for Maori land, and the Maori chiefs more suspicious and unwilling to sell.

To send troopers in search of them what's killed two criminals, what was going to hang anyway, weren't deemed in the best interests o' the colony. Instead, the whole business has been quickly forgotten in the name of diplomacy. Sergeant Nottingham were given the boot and retired on a government pension. We hears he has become another drunk, cadging drinks in Kororareka's hotels. Maple and Syrup has absconded to Auckland, while Mrs Barrett ain't been seen since the night o' the card game, his whereabouts unknown. De Silva, o' course, sailed happily away.

What a rescue it were! Smoke and shouting everywhere and I'm thinking it's all over for me and Hawk when he is carried out of the cell by four savages. Soon after, three blokes grab yours truly, and I expects we'll both be torn to pieces by the mob.