Tommo & Hawk (37 page)

I nod.

'Can you speak?'

I open my mouth and a small croak comes out.

'Throat sore? But you can speak?' he asks, anxious. I nod again and he smiles. It's Hawk's real big smile, what can't be resisted. I smiles back, me gob nearly as wide.

It seems I owe me life to a dead British soldier, the redcoat I killed when I threw me axe, as a matter o' fact. When Hawk found me, my head were jammed in between the dead man's legs, the back o' me neck tight against his crotch, my axe still sticking out o' the floating corpse. The redcoat's knapsack kept him floating and my feet touching the bottom of the swamp kept him level in the water. His big British bum were the resistance I felt when I tried to come to the surface. It ain't a pretty thought, my head up a soldier's arse for ten hours.

*

In two days I have me voice back. There's a wound to the side of my head where a musket ball grazed me, taking some hair and a bit of me skull as well. I guess I'm lucky. I could've caught pneumonia in the freezing water. All them years in the wilderness must have toughened me up. And now I'm just a bit snotty and chesty and has a terrible headache. But I'm alive and grateful and, best of all, it's the end of the Maori wars for Hawk and me.

'Sydney! We is going to Australia!' It's the first thing I says to Hawk when me voice returns.

Hawk is too relieved at hearing me speak to object, and he nods his head. 'Enough of war and killing, Tommo. We cannot do any more here.'

I know Hawk'd rather head for Hobart Town, but I don't want to go back to Mary, not just yet. I'm not ready for the brewery or for mama and her green eyes looking at me - even though I know she wants us back and will do anything to accommodate us. In her last letter she underlined the word anything four times! She's talking about me - she'll have me back however much trouble I be. She wants her precious boys home, she says. But I knows in me gut I'm not ready to see her again yet. We'll make our fortunes in New South Wales first, I'm certain o' that.

A gold rush be a gambler's paradise if you plays your cards right. For the man who can do a little relocation, there ain't no better place to be. I'm not intended for hard work of the digging kind. But with cards we can clean up. Then I'll return to New Zealand and bring back Makareta and me baby. Mary will have a grandchild and yours truly will be a respectable citizen, puffing his pipe and nodding his head and looking like he knows what he's doin' when he most probably don't.

I think about the grog. I ain't been near the black bottle for nigh on four years now. Perhaps I be cured of the drink at last. But I ain't been tested yet. Sometimes the craving still comes upon me awful. It gnaws at me gut, rips and snorts, and leaves me tongue hanging out panting for it! Other times it goes away for days at a time and I thinks it might be over. Perhaps having a woman and child to care for will help. I wants to get back to our village and see Makareta, to hear her soft, happy voice, to have her hold me tight in the dark and, if our baby be born and she be well enough, to make love to her again.

Now as I lies here and thinks of sweet Makareta, I realise how hard it will be to part from her and from all our Maori friends. They has been so good to me, Hammerhead Jack and the others on the whaling ship, with their axe revenge on Captain Mordechai O'Hara and our escape from the gaol at Kororareka. The one-eyed, one-armed giant is overjoyed at my recovery. This morning he comes to me and says, 'Always, Tommo, when we fall in the water, Ork comes to fetch us!' He throws back his ugly noggin and roars with laughter at his own joke.

But mostly I owes me thanks to Makareta, what loves me in every possible way. When I cries out in me sleep, she soothes me and holds me tight, or quietens me by letting me love her.

At last we take our leave from Chief Kingi and War Chief Hapurona, for I am strong enough for the journey back to our own tribe. There has been much praise heaped upon us and lots of feasting. Our fighting axes has killed more British than the muskets or shotguns and I am made rangatira. I am pleased for it means Makareta will have a higher status in the tribe of Chief Tamihana and when we're away, she'll be especially well cared for.

Chief Tamihana has grown in reputation among the Maori tribes, for though he is known as the kingmaker and peacemaker, he is also now known as a chief what is prepared to fight. His axe fighters has played a decisive role in the Ati Awa people's victory. Hawk, in particular, has been honoured for the work what he's done, and the honour is equally Tamihana's by rights and tradition.

In his farewell speech, Chief Wiremu Kingi says that we has both honoured the Maori people in battle. Hawk has proved he has the heart and mana of a Maori. There is nothing he cannot ask of the Ati Awa tribe save a chieftainship, what can only be bestowed by birth, though all says Black Hawk would make a very good Maori chief.

Hawk, as usual, don't ask for nothing. He just says it's been an honour to serve the old chief and his brother. Honour? I near loses me flamin' life and Hawk speaks of how privileged we be to serve! The chief says they want one of our ancestors to be included in the Maori tribe, to become an ancestor of the Ati Awa.

What ancestors? thinks I. Ikey Solomon be the only male what we knows, and he ain't either of our natural fathers. Ain't no good telling them about our true papas neither, 'cause we don't even know whether they be alive or dead. Maori can't have no female ancestors on their Council of the Dead, so we can't give them the fat old whore, Sperm Whale Sally, our true mother, or Mary, what I reckons might be of some use to them. More than them, we ain't got no ancestors to speak of. But to tell the Maori that would upset them something terrible.

'You must give the tohunga the name of your greatest ancestor and we will include him with our own, him you wish to sit beside the great ones. Will you tell us now who this shall be?' Chief Wiremu Kingi asks very solemn.

I can see Hawk don't quite know what to say. He can't insult the Ati Awa by giving no name, like we don't want our ancestor to be included in their tribal company. He scratches his head.

'There is one,' he answers, to my surprise.

The old chief turns to his tohunga. 'Black Hawk will give us this ancestor's name and he shall henceforth be in all your councils.'

The tohunga don't look too happy about this instruction. They don't seem to think it's a good idea, but they can't come out and say it, right there in front of us. Maybe later, among themselves, they will have the necessary arguments.

'Ikey Solomon,' Hawk says slowly.

'Icky Sloman!' all the rangatira repeat. 'Icky Sloman! Icky Sloman!'

'I-key So-lo-mon.' Hawk pronounces it carefully.

'We have it!' Chief Wiremu Kingi announces. 'Icky Slomon!'

I am hard put not to burst out laughing, but Hawk stays serious. 'I am most honoured,' he says, giving me a sharp look, 'and my brother is most honoured too that our venerable ancestor will commune with yours. Our ancestor's wisdom will always be available to the Ati Awa. On the affairs of the pakeha he is a great expert and will be happy to be on your side. I thank you deeply from my heart and on his behalf.'

'Tell us of this Icky Slomon,' War Chief Hapurona asks. 'To what tribe did he belong? What of his ancestors, what do you know of them?'

'A great deal!' replies Hawk. 'He belonged to the tribe of Israel and his greatest ancestor was a most wise king, King Solomon.'

'A king?' The old chief looks impressed. 'And this king, was he black like you?'

Hawk ain't gunna look at me in case he should laugh. 'No, he was like Tommo, like my brother, but it is said he took a black woman to his bed, the Queen of Sheba.'

'Ah, a white king and a black queen! So that is why you are black, General?' Hapurona nods towards me, understanding now how we come to be different, one from t'other. 'And Tommo is white.'

'Well, yes, it was not quite like that,' says Hawk, rubbing his chin.

But Hapurona don't hear, or don't want to. 'Then we are most honoured to accept the ancestor of a great king to sit with our ancestors,' he announces. I think he is glad we got a king, or someone what comes from a king, and is of the rangatira. Everyone, even the tohunga, now seems to agree that Ikey should be a Maori ancestor o' some prominence.

Hawk's turned two bastards born to a whaleman's whore on a beach into two noble princes. And there's old Ikey, peacefully dead in the graveyard in Hobart Town when, all of a sudden, without so much as a beg your pardon, he's whisked away in the middle o' some argument about who owes who tuppence ha'penny. Next thing he knows, he's sitting amongst a bunch of fierce cannibal savages what don't much care to be called 'my dears' and what thinks him more useful for the cooking pot than for his opinions on the art o' relocation.

I can hear Ikey in me mind as he expresses his alarm at being so abducted. 'Most strange and unusual, perplexing, astonishing, a whole sackful o' live rats and queernesses perpetrated upon a most properly dead and eternally slumbering soul, my dears!' Still and all, I reckon the Maori is probably more interestin' company than the dead of Hobart Town's cemetery.

*

Hammerhead Jack and the remaining of my troop of fighting axe men returns with us to Chief Tamihana's village. When we arrive at the pa of the Ngati Haua, we're greeted like heroes. We're escorted into the village and immediately taken to the marae for a ceremony to end the tapu what's been placed on us as warriors. This is conducted by the priests and makes us noa, that is to say, normal commonfolk once more.

Hammerhead Jack has told me that, not so long ago, warriors would feast on the carcasses of their enemies. This were known to be sacred food, tapu to any but themselves. In order for warriors to have the tapu lifted and become noa again, they was obliged to throw away the remains of the bodies what they'd been eating. Then the eldest female of the oldest hereditary stock, the wahine ariki, would eat the ear of the first enemy killed in battle. I, for one, be thankful customs has changed. I has already had me head up a dead redcoat's arse, but to have to eat him as well is asking too much o' yours truly.

Once we have been made noa, we gather at the marae for a great hui and there is much speechifying. I am made rangatira. Hawk receives a feathered hat and wears his black feathered general's cape for all to see.

Hammerhead Jack then tells the story of the battle so everyone might hear it first hand. He speaks of Hawk's wisdom and of my part in leading the fighting axe men. He tells of how I saved the young warrior's life, of how I were struck down and how I were rescued, giving it all in the most exact detail includin' how I killed the soldier and then got me head stuck up his arse. All assembled laughs heartily at this and one o' the elders points to the bandage on me noggin. 'Is that why you cover it?' he asks, to much merriment.

'So, Tommo!' says Chief Tamihana. 'Your new name shall be "The man whose face has seen the worst thing possible in battle."' I blush, for I thinks the chief is making merry again at my expense. But the Maori do not think this a joke and they nod sagely and clap at me new name. A warrior's name earned in battle be like being a knight o' the realm to the English. Then each of the axe warriors is named and honoured with a new song. Their names are took in by the tohunga and the dead is committed to their ancestors' care.

War Chief Hapurona and Chief Wiremu Kingi have sent a special envoy to Tamihana what now praises the tribe's warriors. The speech is long and boring and tells of the part each Ngati Haua warrior played in the Ati Awa's great victory. It is most flowery, but our rangatira takes in every word and I can see they be terrible proud of all us lads. Then we go to a great feast the women has prepared in our honour, with fifteen pigs slaughtered.

I am by now desperate to find Makareta, for I ain't been permitted to go to our hut. I had hoped to find her among the women what prepares the feast, but she ain't with them. Nor were she in the crowd what came out to greet us when we arrived. I can't leave the hui until I am given permission and it's very late at night before I can slip away.

I has only just left the edge of the great fire when I am met by Makareta's mother.

'Come quickly, Tommo. Makareta is birthing.'

'How is she? How long has she been in labour?'

'Since you came back, since sundown.'

'What! Why didn't you fetch me?' I cry.

Makareta's mother gives me a look. 'How may an old woman interrupt the affairs of men?' she says. 'Come, there is no time!'

Outside our hut, several women wait anxiously. 'The old women are with her,' says one as we approach.

'I got to see her.' I begins to shoulder my way to the door.

The women all draw back. 'It cannot be, it is bad tapu for the father to witness the birth,' Makareta's mother says sternly. 'You must wait, please.'

'Then tell me, how is she?'

But Makareta's mother goes into the hut without answering, and one of the women brings me a drink of bush lime fruit. 'It is a difficult labour. She is not well,' she tells me, then asks if I want something to eat. I say no, and sit down to wait. From inside I can hear Makareta groaning and crying out. The sound tears at me very soul and I keep asking to go to her, but each time I am most sternly refused. My hands are tied. It would only frighten Makareta to see me, because of the tapu. Another hour passes and the feast is still going on, with a great deal of singin' and merrymakin'. I wish Hawk were here, but I know he can't be. Chief Tamihana will want him to stay at the feast all night.

Suddenly I feels them. The mongrels are here. I rise, not knowing what to do. I can feel them crawling under me skin and the hair at the back o' me neck stands on end. I swipe at my arms, trying to brush them off, and beat at my shoulders. Makareta's mother comes out of the hut, shakes her head, and starts to keen. It is the terrible, shrill sound of women mourning. The others takes it up immediately. They do not even look to where I am sitting, and it is as though I do not exist. Death has possessed their throats and there be no place for a man within their heads.