Posts Tagged ‘adventure novels’

The Te Arawa raiders had set out on foot at first light from Tokomaru Bay. Their number included six slaves. Forty warriors remained behind to guard the remaining slaves, wakas and other plunder they’d acquired.

The new day brought with it strong winds, black clouds and the threat of a violent storm on Aotearoa’s east coast, and the heavy rain that seemed certain to arrive that morning would be the first rain the region had received in some time.

Apera had debated whether to abandon his plan to attack the enemy’s pa atop the headland on foot. The rangatira had decided to heed the advice of others who insisted it was impregnable from the sea. He was now convinced his best bet was to launch a surprise night-time attack on foot. Whether it would actually come as a surprise to the Ngati Porou remained to be seen. He didn’t doubt they would have their own scouts on the lookout for enemies in their territory – especially now that the presence of his raiding party was known.

Guided by a male slave who bore the marks of a savage beating he’d suffered, the warriors followed a partly overgrown, seldom-used track that would lead them to the coast. They had at least three full days’ trekking ahead of them as it was a roundabout route that would take them some distance inland. The rugged terrain was bush-covered and dissected by rivers and deep, rocky gorges. Even with the help of slaves it was hard going, laden down as the raiders were by their weapons and supplies.

Apera was near the front of the column. His latest conquest, Emere, followed close behind. To the bemusement of the other warriors, the recently widowed wahine seemed a willing accomplice who dutifully followed the man responsible for the deaths of her husband and children. They could see she was now as much under Apera’s spell as he was under hers.

Emere was a fatalist and a realist. Though the man who now possessed her had taken her nearest and dearest from her, and had shattered the peaceful life she’d lived these past twenty-three years, he now controlled her destiny. That was her new reality, and she accepted it. To resist, she knew, would be futile, and so, with some difficulty and more than a little guilt, she put her past behind her and mentally prepared herself for a new life with this new man. Her future was easier to accept than it might have been because she sensed that in Apera she had a man, a rangatira, who was all-powerful and who would look after her. It didn’t hurt either that she was physically attracted to him like she had been to no other man.

#

The rain that had been threatening arrived early the following day, reducing the trail the raiders followed to a muddy quagmire and slowing their progress considerably. The slaves accompanying them had to work especially hard, lugging many of the supplies and extra weapons. All large men, they were also a useful food source for raiders who didn’t have time to hunt or gather food whilst trekking cross-country. This accounted for the fact that their number had been reduced to four overnight: two of them had been killed, cooked and eaten the previous evening. The surviving slaves, who remained tethered together by a strong cord that encircled the neck of each, were resigned to their fate and to the fact they were unlikely to see Tokomaru Bay again.

Throughout the day, scouts regularly reported back to Apera, advising him on the best route they should take and whether the way ahead was clear. One advised that the Ngati Porou had completely abandoned their inland pa and relocated to their stronghold on the coastal headland. That told Apera that the Te Arawa scout their enemies had captured earlier had revealed what his fellow raiders were planning.

#

The raiders reached the coast four days after departing Tokomaru Bay. Their trek had taken a day longer than expected as progress had been slowed by driving rain, and by mud slides necessitating several course corrections.

Dusk was descending as Apera and three of his warriors observed the Ngati Porou’s coastal pa from a bush clearing on a nearby hilltop. The rangatira had left his main strike force a mile or so inland to lessen the chance they’d be seen by enemy scouts or hunters. He wanted to maintain some degree of surprise in the attack he was planning. 

Studying the pa from just two hundred yards distant, it was immediately obvious that the Ngati Porou were expecting an attack. Sentries manned the pa’s ramparts and lookout towers, and a dozen armed warriors could be seen patrolling all approaches to the pa. Most of the latter carried torches, but the flames flickered precariously and in some cases didn’t fire at all in the howling wind. The earlier torrential rain had stopped, but the gale-force southerly annoyingly persisted.

Apera could see the information he’d received was correct: the pa was virtually impregnable from the sea. “A frontal attack is the only way,” he murmured.

The warrior closest to him, a scarred veteran of innumerable clashes, grunted his agreement. “Ae, it is the only way,” he concurred.

Apera could tell a frontal attack would be no easy undertaking either. The rangatira was impressed by the pa’s formidable fortifications, and, if his informants were correct, the enemy’s fighting force equalled or perhaps exceeded his in size. He was thankful for the heavy cloud cover. The extra darkness it afforded would help conceal his warriors from the enemy despite the sentries’ flickering torches. Even so, he thought it probable they’d be seen well before they reached the pa’s outer fortifications because all the approaches had been cleared of boulders, bush, shrubs and anything else that might conceal an enemy. “We attack tonight under cover of darkness,” he said. Having seen enough, he and his companions jogged back to join the others.

It was dark by the time they reached their encampment. They arrived to discover the other warriors had ambushed and captured a twenty-strong party of Ngati Porou hunters. All but two of the hunters had been killed, their bodies left in a heap nearby. Many of the deceased were young, some barely into their teens.

Apera saw at a glance the surviving hunters, who both appeared to be in their mid-twenties, were tethered together alongside a roaring fire. In the light of the flames, they appeared downcast and fearful. Both displayed injuries as a result of wounds they’d received. They were being interrogated by Kaihautu who stood over them, firing questions at them and striking them if they were slow to respond.

“Who are these dogs?” the rangatira asked his brother.

“They are Ngati Porou hunters,” Kaihautu said, kicking the nearest captive whose answer to his latest question had displeased him. “They were returning to their pa with their kills.” He pointed to a pile of carcasses, which had been lined up in rows nearby ready for cooking. They included freshwater crayfish and eels, native ducks, bush pigeons and a variety of other birds.

“Why did you spare these two?” Apera asked, looking at the captives.

“Because they were more talkative than the others…and they revealed some interesting truths.”

“Such as?”

“They told us the headland their pa sits on has no lake or river or other source of fresh water.”

Apera realised this meant his strike force could possibly besiege the pa until the defenders surrendered or died of thirst. “I am sure they would have dug ponds on the headland and those ponds will be full after the recent heavy rain.”

Frowning, Kaihautu kicked the nearest captive who appeared to be the more frightened of the two. “Is he correct? Are there ponds on the headland?”

The captive nodded furiously. “Ae, it is as he says. There are four deep ponds and they will be full by now.”

“How long could your people last if there is no more rain?” Apera asked.

“Maybe…ten days.”

“Only ten days?” a disbelieving Kaihautu asked, shaping up to kick the captive again.

“There are eight hundred of us at the pa and the ponds drain quickly!” the captive hurriedly explained, cowering from his interrogator’s raised foot. 

“What about food?” Apera asked, aware that his enemies’ water supplies wouldn’t be a factor if the rain continued.

“There is enough food for maybe seven days.”

It was the other captive who spoke. He seemed more composed than his companion even though he’d received the worse beating of the two. Mumbling through swollen, bleeding lips, he sullenly added, “Maybe enough for six days now that you have our latest kills.” He glanced at the fire where the birds and other creatures he and his fellow hunters had killed were ready to be roasted.

Thinking aloud, Apera said, “So, even if it rains every day and our enemies are able to quench their thirst, we could camp at the pa’s entrance and wait for them to starve.”

“We could,” Kaihautu agreed, “but he” – the warrior pointed at the more fearful of the two captives – “told us there is a lightly guarded entrance to their pa on the southern side of the ramparts.”

Realising his interrogator was pointing at him, the captive concerned nodded vigorously yet again, indicating there was indeed a lightly guarded entrance. “It cannot be seen from the approaches to the main entrance,” he said. “It is the gate we are…” Choosing his words more carefully, he said, “It is the gate we would have used when we returned.” He ignored the scathing glance his companion flashed his way.

The glance was noticed by Apera, which confirmed to his satisfaction the more talkative captive was telling the truth. Turning back to Kaihautu, he asked, “So you think that is our way in?”

“That is our way in, brother.”

Apera thought it a good idea except for one major complication. “They would see us before we were halfway to the outer stockade… even without moonlight. Their guards patrol all the approaches with flaming torches in hand.”

“I expected as much. That will be of no matter if the guards believe we are the returning hunters.” Smiling, Kaihautu glanced at the bodies of the slaughtered hunters.

Apera didn’t need it spelled out for him. He understood at once what his brother had in mind. The more he thought about it, the more he thought it could work. “Untie them,” he said, pointing at the two captives. “And select sixteen of our best warriors.”

Kaihautu hurried to carry out his brother’s orders.

A sudden change in wind direction caused the fire to crackle and spark, and it was then Apera noticed Emere. She sat alone, away from the other slaves, on the far side of the fire. Her beautiful face was illuminated by the flames, and Apera could see she was staring directly at him.

The flames quickly settled and her face was cast in shadow again, but in that brief moment the message Emere had conveyed was unmistakable: she wanted him.

Apera’s distraction was noticed by Kaihautu. “We must go now, brother,” he said.

“Give me one moment.” Apera strode off to satisfy his sudden lust for the wahine who so captivated him.

Nicholas’s sojourn in paradise ended as abruptly as it began. Early on the morning of the transit of Venus, Captain Cook’s servant Will Howson arrived at the village to pass on the captain’s orders: the surgeon’s assistant was to make haste to the observatory. More sobering was the news they’d be sailing the next day…

The late thirteenth century had seen the advent of the pa, the fortified village that served as a stronghold for iwis under siege in Aotearoa. By the early 1500’s, those fortifications were becoming remarkably sophisticated. Nowhere was this better demonstrated than on the rocky headland at the southern end of the bay occupied by the Ngati Porou iwi. Like pa sites elsewhere, the iwi had made best use of the available terrain.

The headland that accommodated the pa extended some distance out into the Pacific and overlooked the entire bay as well as miles of coastline to the north and south. Cleared of bush, the only vegetation left was a line of pohutukawa trees that ran along the clifftops. The steep, white cliffs ensured that access was only possible from the land. Anyone who tried to attack from the sea could easily be repelled. A few boys throwing rocks would suffice.

The pa’s main defences were concentrated on protecting its entrance. Two lines of trenches had been dug from one side of the narrow headland to the other to help repel any raiders who chose to attack on foot. These same trenches could be turned into killing fields when enemies tried to cross them. Each was surmounted by a stockade to doubly protect the defenders, and underground tunnels enabled them to retreat if they were in danger of being over-run. This clever design, used by the Ngati Porou and increasingly by Maori everywhere, was surprisingly advanced and effective – as British troops would discover to their cost one day.

The pa itself comprised sturdy timber ramparts surmounted by wooden lookout towers and fighting platforms. These were the last line of defence should the trenches not do the job they were designed to do.

Behind the ramparts, an entire kainga [village] had been constructed. It comprised whares, storage houses, kumara pits and gardens, and most prominent of all a wharenui, or meeting house. It was here the eight hundred villagers would live if attacked.

The pa’s one drawback was that the headland it occupied had no stream or other source of freshwater, which explained why the iwi had opted to establish its permanent settlement on a riverbank half a mile inland. Iwi members only relocated to their coastal pa when there was risk of an attack – as was the case now.

Mahanga, the ageing rangatira of the Ngati Porou, paused in his early morning inspection of the fortifications to stare at a hill, which stood like a sentinel at the northern end of the bay that the pa overlooked. Kaiti Hill was the ancestral site of the Ngati Oneone hapu, a sub-tribe whose marae was located at the base of the hill. From the hill’s summit they had uninterrupted views north to the eastern cape where Mahanga knew the Te Arawa war party was preparing to launch its attack. He’d learned this from the enemy scout his men had captured and tortured several days earlier. Ngati Oneone residents would alert their Ngati Porou neighbours of any approaching threat as the two peoples were close allies. Unless they happened to be cut off, the former would relocate to the pa on the headland in the event of an attack.

Before dying, the Te Arawa scout had proven talkative after having had his feet held to the flames of a cooking fire. The information he’d imparted had given Mahanga a couple of sleepless nights.

Yawning as he continued his inspection tour, he reviewed what he’d learned. By all accounts the enemy’s rangatira, Apera, had three hundred battle-hardened warriors and numerous wakas, including those they’d taken possession of at Tokomaru Bay. More disturbingly, it was evident he was intent on invading the Ngati Porou pa.

The number of warriors the Te Arawa had didn’t concern Mahanga. He had that many and more, and he didn’t think the wakas would be of use to his enemies because any attack from the sea would be futile. If they didn’t already realise that, he thought, they soon would. What did concern the rangatira was the Te Arawa warriors were by all accounts battle-hardened, having prevailed in numerous conflicts with coastal iwis during their journey south from Maketu, a place Mahanga had never heard of. While his own warriors had been tested, having repelled half a dozen attacks on the pa by southern war parties in recent years, they could hardly be described as battle-hardened. The pa’s impressive fortifications had so far rebuffed any attacks, and his warriors had not yet had to engage in any serious hand-to-hand fighting. Such was the advantage those fortifications provided. The Te Arawa warriors might present an altogether different proposition. 

What most concerned Mahanga, however, was the pa’s lack of fresh water. Water had to be carried to the site in wooden calabashes and poured into purpose-built, rocky ponds, which had been designed to catch rainwater and act as reservoirs in times of need. However, even when full the ponds would only sustain the iwi’s eight hundred people for seven to ten days at most during dry periods. As luck would have it, the present winter was one of the driest in living memory, and there was no sign of rain on the horizon. In the event of a siege, someone would have to descend the cliffs in darkness, fill calabashes with water from one of the streams that emptied into the bay and return unnoticed. That he realised would be quite a challenge as any self-respecting enemy would be on guard against such attempts.

The rangatira’s thoughts turned to his Te Arawa counterpart as he stopped to observe half a dozen men who were replacing rotting timbers on either side of the pa’s entrance. He’d never heard of Apera, but thought he sounded like someone to be reckoned with even if only half what the captured scout had told him was true. The scout said the ancestors of Apera and his people had travelled to Aotearoa aboard the Arawa waka. Pondering that fact, Mahanga looked north again. As he did he subconsciously massaged the stub of an extra small finger on his left hand – a family trait his late father and great grandfather had also been born with. He remained unaware that Apera shared the same trait or that they were both descended from Hotu who had first journeyed to Aotearoa aboard the Ronui – the very waka which had landed on the same beach he now surveyed.

Since the arrival of Mahanga’s ancestors on these shores, his people had flourished. The land and sea had provided all they needed, and any inter-tribal disputes had generally been settled quickly and peacefully. Change was afoot unfortunately. Iwis were now at war throughout Aotearoa. And war was coming Mahanga’s way. Of that he was sure. 

The rangatira was distracted by the sounds of sticks clashing to the accompaniment of grunts of exertion. He looked around and saw his daughter-in-law Anahera sparring with a teenage boy nearby. The pair each wielded a wooden taiaha, or close-quarters staff, a weapon favoured by Maori everywhere. Useful for short, sharp strikes and stabbing thrusts, its use required superior hand-speed, deft footwork and considerable skill.

Mahanga’s daughter-in-law was, he thought, well named. Anahera in Maori folklore stood for Majestic and Powerful Angel. And that she was. Anahera’s sculpted body turned heads wherever she went, and although much lighter than the bulky teenager she sparred with, she was giving him a painful lesson. That was no surprise to the rangatira or to any of the other spectators who had gathered to watch the training session. The young wahine was after all a blooded warrior who had proved herself in battle. Wahines like her – and there were more than a few – often fought alongside their men with distinction.

The bulky teenager grunted in pain as his skillful tutor delivered a blow to an unprotected shin.

“Protect your legs!” Anahera said as she switched her grip on the taiaha and whacked the teenager across one shoulder with it, prompting another grunt from her victim.

“Protect your shoulders, too!” a spectator yelled, causing mirth amongst others watching and causing the teenager no small amount of embarrassment.

“Ignore them,” Anahera said to her bloodied and bruised student. “They can’t fight to save themselves.”

As the training session continued, Mahanga noticed one of his scouts jogging toward him through the pa’s entrance.

“The Te Arawa dogs are coming!” the scout shouted.

“Overland?” Mahanga asked as the breathless scout stopped in front of him.

“Ae…Overland…They will arrive in two days…Three at most.”

“How many?”

“We counted at least two hundred and fifty warriors.”

Mahanga pondered this as villagers began crowding around, keen to hear what the scout had to report. Anahera and her teenage sparring partner were among them.

Pushing through the crowd, Anahera stood before the scout. “Only two hundred and fifty warriors?” she asked. “The Te Arawa prisoner told us they had at least three hundred.” She knew that to be a fact as she was one of those who had held the captive’s feet to the fire before he died.

The scout didn’t like being questioned by a wahine, not even one related by marriage to Mahanga, and he glanced at the rangatira who nodded almost imperceptibly. “They left about forty warriors behind at Tokomaru to guard their slaves and wakas,” the scout mumbled.

Mahanga placed one hand on the scout’s shoulder. “You did well. Eat and rest, and then inform the others I want regular reports on our enemies’ progress.” The others he referred to were the other twelve scouts patrolling overland approaches to the pa.

The scout nodded and jogged off, leaving Mahanga to decide on the best course of action. He turned to Anahera. “Inform your husband of this news,” he said, referring to Nikau, his oldest son. “Bring him to the meeting house.”

Anahera hurried off to find Nikau while her father-in-law walked back to the quarters he shared with his three wives and their extended family. He wanted to check on them before he held a council of war with his headmen.

War was coming and he wanted his people to be ready.

Mahanga had good reason to be concerned: his Te Arawa counterpart, Apera, was at that moment leading a two hundred and sixty-strong raiding party north from Tokomaru Bay, their destination the Ngati Porou pa. They would present the biggest challenge his people had ever faced.

The Te Arawa raiders had set out on foot at first light from Tokomaru Bay. Their number included six slaves. Forty warriors remained behind to guard the remaining slaves, wakas and other plunder they’d acquired…

Time passed ever so slowly – excruciatingly slowly for Nicholas. The lad noticed the bure he’d been allocated was only yards from the rear entrance to the royal quarters. He wondered if that had any significance. Curious, he entered his new temporary home.

Inside, he found the bure was typical of others on the island. Constructed of bamboo, bark, palm tree fronds, ferns and pandanus leaves, it looked comfortable enough. There was only one small window opening, set into the far wall, but its location opposite the open doorway ensured that sea breezes would pass through, providing welcome relief from the oppressive heat and humidity. Fronds covered the grassy floor, and a flax bed-mat lay atop a mattress of ferns beneath the window.

The morning sun gave way to the afternoon, and still there was no sign of Tupaia or the queen. To occupy himself, Nicholas went for a stroll round the village. He discovered most of the villagers were inside their bures or sitting in the shade of palm trees to escape the sun. A few playful children scampered around between the dwellings. Everyone who saw the handsome young European smiled or waved at him. He responded in kind, but further communication was impossible without Tupaia being present to translate.

Hot and thirsty, he returned to his bure to discover someone had kindly left food and water in separate wooden bowls just inside the doorway. He greedily satisfied his hunger and thirst. Suddenly tired, he lay down on the bed-mat and let his mind wander. He found himself wondering what Queen Obadia could possibly want with him. And he recalled that fleeting instant their eyes locked the first time he’d seen her, but he dared not read anything into that.

I probably imagined it.

His eyes grew heavy and he was asleep before he knew it.

#

Nicholas didn’t know how long he’d been sleeping when he was roused from his slumber by Tupaia. “What…what took you so long?” he asked, yawning.

 “That not important my friend.” The Tahitian didn’t reveal that he’d spent the day reassuring Queen Obadia that she was doing the right thing and that the surgeon’s boy had been sent to her by the gods. “What is important is…queen now ready to meet you.”

This news both elated and alarmed Nicholas.

“Come,” Tupaia commanded, heading for the doorway.

A nervous Nicholas followed. Outside, he discovered the afternoon shadows had lengthened considerably since he’d fallen asleep.

Tupaia stopped in front of the main entrance to the royal quarters and indicated to the younger man that he should enter the queen’s residence.

“Are you not coming with me?” Nicholas asked.

“Queen say she want to see you…alone.”

“I surely need you to translate.”

“Queen Obadia speak English. Not good as me, of course, but good enough to understand.” Tupaia strode off, smiling to himself.

Watching his escort depart, Nicholas wondered if this new development had anything to do with the engaging interpreter. He dismissed the thought as quickly as it occurred because he couldn’t imagine how his good fortune could possibly benefit Tupaia.

Inside the royal quarters it took his eyes a minute or two to adjust to the darkness. He suddenly tensed. Seated against the dwelling’s far wall was the shadowy but unmistakable outline of Hercules. The hulking rangatira sat as motionless as a giant statue.

Slowly, Hercules came to life. The Buddha-like figure uncrossed his tree-trunk legs, and, grunting with the exertion, pushed himself to his feet. Nothing was said. There was no word of greeting or even any acknowledgment of the visitor’s presence.

In the drawn-out silence, Nicholas couldn’t help but notice the rangatira now seemed to be scowling at him. The lad looked around for some sign of the queen. She was nowhere to be seen.

“Queen Obadia…she join us soon,” Hercules said in broken English, his deep voice disturbing the silence and causing Nicholas to jump for the second time in as many minutes. 

Another strained silence followed.

Now that his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, the disconcerted visitor was alarmed to see Hercules was still glaring at him.

What’s his problem?

It seemed the rangatira was fully aware of the lust he had for his queen.

Can he read my mind?

Hercules had seen many young men – some from other ships – receive the queen’s royal summons. He knew she desperately wanted a child above all else and was devastated when he, the mighty rangatira of her people, couldn’t give her what she wanted. Consequently, he’d long-since been banished from the marital bed-mat. Hercules knew the problem was not his for he’d fathered many children through his surrogate wives who were scattered all round the island. It had always been immensely damaging to his pride that so great a rangatira did not have any legitimate wives. He was from another island and local custom did not permit an outsider such as him to take a Tahitian wife. Although widely known that he had many children by other women, that could never be publicly acknowledged and that was a constant source of grief to him as he had no official successor.

The queen’s obsession with bedding younger men in her desperate attempts to conceive was another blow to Hercules’ esteem in the eyes of his people. It was as though she was trumpeting to one and all that she needed to be mounted by younger, more virile lovers. This had been noted far beyond Matavai Bay, and rival rangatiras and enemies alike had long-delighted in reminding him of it.

Hercules thought his queen had given up on her aspirations to have a child. As far as he knew, she hadn’t had relations with anyone since the Dolphin visited these shores. On that occasion, she’d enjoyed some wild nights of passion with a young lieutenant from that tall ship. The rangatira scowled at the memory, and Nicholas cringed involuntarily, thinking the scowl was meant for him.

After what seemed an eternity, Queen Obadia made her entrance. She was accompanied by an armed warrior and two servant girls. The warrior was carrying a flaming torch, which lit up the room to reveal the dwelling was similar to Nicholas’s own bure in its construction. That was where any similarity ended, however. Many times larger than his temporary quarters, its sandy floor was almost completely covered by a huge carpet that featured a woven image of the reigning French king, Louis XV. It evidently came from one of the French ships that visited Tahiti and was complemented by an original gold-framed portrait of the same monarch, which hung on one wall. The young visitor recognised King Louis immediately because he’d seen paintings of him before. Displayed as they were beneath the bure’s thatched roof, the combined effect of the carpet and the painting struck him as incongruous.

Nicholas’s attention was grabbed by a flash of light reflected from a sword hanging on the facing wall. At first he thought it was the sword presented to the rangatira by Cook, but closer scrutiny revealed it was Warrant Officer Wilkinson’s stolen ceremonial sword. It was still in its jewel-encrusted scabbard. He could only imagine what the officer would say when he learned his beloved sword occupied pride of place in the royal quarters.

Safer if I say nothing perhaps.

Nicholas forgot all about the sword when Queen Obadia stepped out of the shadows. Time stood still while he marvelled at the magnificent sight before him. The queen was even more stunning than he remembered.

As she had the first time he’d seen her, she let her exquisite almond eyes rest on his face. This time she held his gaze.

Nicholas was drowning in his own desire beneath beautiful Queen Obadia’s all-knowing gaze as she approached. He feared he might collapse. His legs nearly gave way beneath him and he realised he was having trouble breathing…

It was early May and the men of the Endeavour were enjoying their stay at Matavai Bay so much that many had all but forgotten the purpose of their visit. As the transit of Venus neared, Cook reminded his men in no uncertain terms of the reason they were in Tahiti.

Construction of a fort, appropriately named Fort Venus, at the northeastern end of the bay was almost complete. With the assistance of some of the villagers, work on it had begun within days of the Endeavour’s arrival. It was located on a sandy spit Cook had named Point Venus, and had been extended to accommodate an observatory. Everything was in place except for the telescopes and other technical observation equipment. These would remain under lock and key aboard ship until closer to the big day.

June 3rd was fast-approaching and the captain was worried. May was throwing up some depressingly cloudy weather, not ideal conditions for observing a distant planet. All eyes were on the skies and Cook had taken to praying for fine weather during his daily devotions.

Nicholas was among a number of crewmembers selected to assist with the preparations at the observatory. The captain had long been aware of the usefulness of his intelligent, hard-working surgeon’s boy. Surgeon Monkhouse’s reports left no doubt that Nicholas Young was a gifted lad, and Cook needed the services of such people for the task ahead. Monkhouse also confirmed there wasn’t a lot for him or his assistant to do in the ship’s surgery now that the bark lay at anchor.

The surgeon might not have been so confident if he’d foreseen the number of men who any day now would begin reporting to the sickbay with the pox – an unfortunate result of their licentious activity since arriving in Tahiti.

#

Nicholas was one of eight hand-picked individuals now based at the observatory within the fort. He reported directly to chief carpenter John Satterley while the other seven were under the supervision of astronomer Charles Green. The observatory team’s main task was the construction of a sturdy, dead-level, observation tower. This was completed under Green’s critical eye within days and well ahead of schedule.

Like the other members of Cook’s crew, team members now had considerable spare time on their hands. Nicholas used his free time to explore Matavai Bay, more often than not alone. Although attracted to the local wahines, his heart was set on Queen Obadia. To his mind her beauty overshadowed that of all other women. So he channelled his energy into climbing the rugged hills, exploring the picturesque coastline and swimming in the bay and in the streams that emptied into it: blissful days for a lad from Derbyshire. He soon became a familiar and popular figure with the villagers. His only regret was he’d be leaving here eventually and would be separated from his beautiful queen forever. It was a continuing frustration to him that he’d hardly seen her since the welcoming feast. On those rare occasions he had seen her, she’d been surrounded by members of her personal guard or by throngs of villagers, or both. Thinking of her now made him tingle all over.

Nicholas’s comings and goings in and around Matavai Bay were noted by the nattily-dressed Tupaia. Although now ensconced in his new quarters aboard the Endeavour, the navigator-priest-turned-interpreter would often stumble across the surgeon’s assistant and engage him in conversation on those occasions he went ashore. A genuine friendship was developing between them.

One day, in the company of his new friend, Nicholas broached the subject that had been nagging at him. “Do you see much of your queen?” he asked nonchalantly.

Tupaia paused and smiled to himself before answering, “Uh. As high priest, I spend time…with all, ah, member of royal family.”

“Is…is she happy?” Nicholas probed further.

The Tahitian adjusted his cocked hat. “Do you mean is she happy being…consort…of our great rangatira?”

“Well…yes.”

“They not live together…as lovers…for many year. It more to help keep peace…with other tribes.” Tupaia explained that the rangatira was from another island. “He be with Queen Obadia, ah, help protect our people…against attack from enemy.”

“I see.” Nicholas felt relieved. He hadn’t been able to cast from his mind the awful image of Hercules violating his beloved queen.

“You are interested…in Queen Obadia?” Tupaia enquired innocently.

“Not really,” Nicholas responded lightly before quickly changing the subject.

The conversation had set Tupaia thinking. He now viewed Nicholas potentially as his passport out of Tahiti. From talking to the occupants of the tall ships which had visited his island, he’d learned there was a big world out there and he yearned to discover it for himself. Besides, he had ambitions that were far too grand for this little corner of the world. The amiable Tahitian knew if he could secure a permanent berth aboard the Endeavour he’d realise his ambitions. And so he hatched a scheme he vowed to put into action that very day.

His conscience was clear about what he intended doing. No-one would get hurt. Misled maybe, but not hurt. If everything went to plan, everyone would be happy. Captain Cook would be happy, Queen Obadia would be happy and Nicholas would be happy. Very happy.

On second thoughts, he realised, perhaps the rangatira the visitors called Hercules wouldn’t be happy.

Fortuitously for Tupaia’s plan, today was a sacred day, a monthly occasion devoted to prayer and devotions. Traditionally, after dinner on such a day, Tupaia and the other priests would join with Queen Obadia to pray to their island gods and thank them for protecting their people. If the villagers were enjoying an especially good growing season or the fishermen brought in a big catch from the sea, the queen would sometimes order a human sacrifice be made to the spirits as a gesture of appreciation. Usually, a new-born child would be sacrificed. Thankfully, no such offering would be made on this occasion. Tupaia had no stomach for such acts. He considered them barbaric. Although as high priest he often had to officiate during human sacrifices – it was sometimes he who delivered the fatal blow or knife thrust – inwardly he loathed the practice. He wondered how the gods could be so generous and immediately so ruthless in demanding payment for their generosity. It crossed his mind that if the priests’children were the only ones eligible for sacrifice, there would be fewer sacrifices. He also wondered how a person of such physical beauty as Queen Obadia could order acts of such cruelty. He’d been tempted to speak out, but he knew that would be punishable by death.

Usually, after the evening’s deliberations, the other priests would retire with Hercules to the outer chamber of the royal quarters to talk long into the night over bowls of kava. Tupaia would stay behind to engage the queen in some lively conversation if she was receptive. She usually was for she enjoyed her high priest’s company. He just hoped she’d be receptive tonight.

#

That night, after dinner in the royal quarters, Tupaia was relieved Queen Obadia indicated he should stay as Hercules and the other priests departed. He was content that so far everything was going to plan.

Like her high priest, the queen had a keen mind and a quick wit. She loved Tupaia’s company, if only for his conversation these days. Unlike the amiable priest sitting before her, she had all but forgotten their night of lust. It was so long ago and there’d been so many young men since. As for Tupaia, he could never forget that night, but on these occasions he’d learned to force all carnal thoughts from his mind and concentrate on entertaining the queen with his conversation instead of his body.

Tonight, concentrating was easy as he was about to call on all his considerable powers of persuasion. In deference to his queen, he waited for her to speak first. She was in no hurry. While he waited, he noticed she appeared troubled. He smiled to himself. Her apparent anxiety would aid his plan.

“Tupaia, my trusted companion,” Queen Obadia began. “You know I do enjoy our talks.”

“Yes, my queen.” Tupaia bowed his head respectfully.

“Tonight I need your advice.”

“Something ails you?” Tupaia asked hopefully.

“Uh. A change is coming over our people. They are growing fat and lazy.”

Tupaia glanced over his shoulder. He hoped Hercules was out of earshot.

Queen Obadia continued, “Our warriors spend their waking hours drinking kava and sleeping. The young men spend their days filling our wahines with their seed. The wahines are no better. Our people grow soft.”

Tupaia nodded. He knew this to be true.

“If those devils from Bora Bora attacked tomorrow, we would be crushed like turtle eggs beneath a falling coconut!” the queen continued passionately.

“That is so,” Tupaia said. It was one of the reasons he knew he had to escape this place. Outwardly he looked as concerned as his queen. Inwardly he rejoiced. The conversation was leading exactly where he’d hoped it would.

“What can we do about this state of affairs?” Queen Obadia implored. “I fear so for my people.” Her distress was genuine.

Tupaia adopted a thoughtful expression befitting a high priest. When he had the other’s full attention, he spoke with authority and feeling. “My queen… I hesitate to tell you this.” He paused dramatically.

“Uh? Go on!”

“On the last Holy Day, I had a vision.”

Queen Obadia’s eyes widened.

“I saw the spirit of your ancestor Hotu, and he spoke to me.” He referred to the great Hawaikan explorer and rangatira whose youngest daughter, Obadia, the queen’s namesake, had been abducted when Tahitians raided Hawaiki more than four centuries earlier. The girl, a beauty so legend had it, had not only survived her enslavement, but had married well and produced many children.

By now Tupaia could see he had the queen’s full attention.

“Why did you wait so long to tell me?” she asked.

“Because…It is delicate.”

Queen Obadia waved a hand contemptuously. “Phsst! Tell me what Hotu’s spirit said.”

“He referred to your barren state, my queen.”

The queen looked like she’d been slapped in the face. She was shocked into silence. Her barren womb was a taboo subject. No-one on the island ever mentioned it or even referred to the fact that she was childless. If they did, they risked an almost-certain painful death.

Tupaia took a deep breath before continuing. He was gambling his life on the fact that he was the high priest and had, after all, been in direct communication with Hotu’s spirit, or so he claimed. As the queen was a direct descendent of Hotu, he was reasonably sure she’d hear him out. “Do you wish to hear the rest?” he asked nervously.

“Tell me all,” she hissed, stony-faced.

“Hotu said a strong people cannot be ruled by a barren queen. He said the gods had decreed that a queen must be able to give her people a son, a future ruler to continue the dynasty. Without this your kingdom will decay and die.”

Queen Obadia’s face crumpled. Her shoulders sagged and she wept silently. Tupaia struggled to suppress a smile.

“What can I do?”

“Fear not, my queen. The spirit of your ancestor gave me the answer.”

The queen’s face lit up. Hope gleamed in her almond eyes. “What is the answer?”

“Again, it is delicate.”

“Please tell me!” she implored, grabbing his arm.

“The spirit of Hotu told me a young, virile god would arrive on our shores aboard a tall ship. He said that I would recognise this god when I saw him.”

“Go on!”

“He said you must take this god to your bed mat and he will fill you with his seed, which will bear fruit.”

Queen Obadia instantly knew this to be true. She’d long felt she was not barren. The fault, she was sure, was with her consort and other partners. For years she’d had a succession of young, healthy lovers in her attempts to conceive. Tupaia had been one of those albeit briefly. In recent times, she’d become celibate, having tired of striving unsuccessfully for the thing she wanted most in life. Now she had a chance to achieve what she wanted as a result of a message from the spirit world. “Have you seen this young god?” she asked at length.

“Yes my queen, I have seen him. And so have you.”

Queen Obadia searched her memory. She flashed back to the handsome, blond-haired youth she’d seen at the feast given in honour of the crew of the Endeavour. She remembered the instant impression he’d made on her, and she recalled the way he’d looked at her. “Let it be him,” she murmured to herself.

Tupaia could see from her expression she remembered the young god. “I will bring him to you,” he promised.

The queen’s relief was palpable. She laughed joyously and threw her arms around the priest. “My dear Tupaia, how could I live without you?”

Tupaia was tempted to say, “Hopefully, you will find out soon!” But instead he said, “My queen, there is something else I haven’t told you.”

Concern registered on Queen Obadia’s face once more.

Tupaia continued, “The spirit of Hotu said the young god’s seed would only bear fruit if he remained alive until the baby’s birth. He said he could only guarantee his safety if I sailed with him as his protector when his tall ship leaves our shores.”

“Then you must go with him!” the queen commanded.

Tupaia smiled. The exotic ports of the world suddenly seemed closer.

“Does this young god have a name?” Queen Obadia asked.

“They call him Nicholas.”

#

After returning to his temporary lodgings aboard the Endeavour, Tupaia sought out the captain. The Tahitian was still glowing after his fruitful meeting with Queen Obadia earlier that same evening. He found Cook in his cabin and was pleased to see that despite the late hour he was awake and working at his desk.

“Mister Tupaia, welcome,” the captain said, looking up from an astronomers’ chart of the heavens spread out on the desktop. At his elbow was a glass of port. “A drink?” he offered.

Tupaia declined graciously. He’d only ever tasted the white man’s liquor once and had vowed never again after suffering a hangover to end all hangovers.

“What brings ye here at this hour?” Cook enquired.

“Captain, I have message…from Queen Obadia.”

“Ah! Your beautiful queen. And what does she say?”

“She is impressed with your surgeon’s boy.”

“Nicholas Young?”

“Yes. She judge him be…intelligent…and ask if he…ah…be her guest in village until you leave. She want learn more about England and…um… other distant land, and believe Nicholas make good talk, ah, conversation.”

“Queen Obadia is obviously a good judge of character,” Cook responded. “Master Young is one of the finest young men aboard this good ship.”

Tupaia nodded.

“Ye can tell the queen I am happy to oblige,” Cook said without a hint of suspicion in the other’s motives. Returning his attention to the chart on his desktop, he added, “I’ll get orders to Master Young tomorrow to relocate to your village for the remainder of our stay.”

Tupaia hesitated.

“Was there something else?” Cook asked, looking up.

Tupaia could see the captain wanted to get back to his work. Taking a deep breath, he said, “Yes, Captain…. I hope you keep me as interpreter…for remainder of your voyage?”

It was Cook’s turn to hesitate. Tupaia had already proven his worth as an interpreter, and if reputation was any guide he was a good navigator as well. The captain knew he’d have need of those services in the future, but it could be years before Tupaia would be able to return home, if at all. “Let me think about it,” he replied non-committedly.

“Yes, Captain.” Feeling slightly let down Tupaia retired to his quarters. The Tahitian felt he was nine tenths of the way toward achieving his dream. He only had to twist the captain’s arm a little more, he thought. He’d pick his moment.

#

On shore, in the royal quarters at Matavai Bay, Queen Obadia was too excited to sleep. She sat, cross-legged on the floor, thinking about the young god who’d been sent to her by Hotu’s spirit. She felt her womb flutter in delicious readiness for the son she believed would soon be growing inside her.

#

Nearby, at Fort Venus where the Endeavour’s shore crew was based, Nicholas lay fast asleep on his bunk, oblivious to what was in store for him over the remainder of his stay at Matavai Bay, and oblivious also to the snores of the other crewmembers who had been assigned to shore duties until the eclipse.

#

Breakfast in the fort’s mess was scarcely over when Captain Cook’s servant Will Howson appeared bearing written orders for Nicholas. At sixteen, the Londoner was one of only two crewmembers younger than the surgeon’s boy. Sighting Nicholas seated alongside others on the far side of the mess, he marched straight over to him and handed him a sealed document. “The captain asked me to give this directly to ye, Nick,” he said in the strongest of London’s East End accents.

“What’s all this about, Will?” Nicholas asked, opening the document.

“Dunno,” the young Londoner said. He couldn’t care less what it was about. This was one of his few trips ashore and his full attention was on a beautiful wahine he’d spotted through the near window of the mess. Wearing only a grass skirt, she was walking along the sandy spit upon which the fort sat.

Nicholas was impressed when he saw the orders were penned in the captain’s own handwriting. He couldn’t believe his eyes as he read and re-read the letter.

“What is it, lad?” enquired carpenter John Satterley who sat opposite.

“That captain has ordered me to move into the village as guest of Queen Obadia for the remainder of our stay,” a disbelieving Nicholas mumbled.

“What?” Satterley snatched the document from Nicholas before he remembered he couldn’t read.

“Perhaps I can help.” It was Tupaia who came to the rescue. Having a vested interest in proceedings, he’d accompanied Will ashore. He studied the document. Feigning surprise, he looked up. “It is as Master Young says. He is to re…ah…relocate…to village as guest of queen.”

“Well, fuck me!” Satterley exclaimed.

“We’d rather not!” one of Satterley’s fellow carpenters ventured. The others, who by this time had gathered around to hear Nicholas’s news, laughed bawdily.

Ignoring the jibe, Satterley muttered, “Some bastards have all the luck!”

Tupaia addressed the still-incredulous Nicholas. “If you collect belongings…I escort you to meet gracious queen.”

Nicholas nodded and hurried from the mess. He returned minutes later, slightly more composed, with a small knapsack over one shoulder. “Lead the way,” he said to Tupaia.

A barrage of crude comments followed the pair as they retreated from the fort and set off for the village. Most were directed at Nicholas and they included all manner of suggestions as to how he should repay the queen’s hospitality. Normally, he’d have responded to such jesting with barbs of his own, but he was so incredulous he’d been struck dumb; his prayers had been answered, and he couldn’t believe it. 

When the pair reached the village, Tupaia escorted Nicholas to a small bure, which adjoined the larger dwellings that made up the royal quarters.

“This be your home…until Endeavour set sail,” the Tahitian said, stopping outside the bure.

Nicholas nodded dumbly.

“Wait here…I announce arrival.”

Nicholas watched as his companion disappeared into the royal quarters. Alone with his thoughts, he tried to make sense of the latest developments.

I must surely be dreaming!

The lad couldn’t believe his good fortune. The statuesque and beguiling queen was the object of all his Earthly desires. He could feel his manhood hardening thinking about what might follow.

Time passed ever so slowly – excruciatingly slowly for Nicholas. The lad noticed the bure he’d been allocated was only yards from the rear entrance to the royal quarters. He wondered if that had any significance. Curious, he entered his new temporary home.

Inside, he found the bure was typical of others on the island. Constructed of bamboo, bark, palm tree fronds, ferns and pandanus leaves, it looked comfortable enough. There was…

A few full moons shy of two years after arriving in Aotearoa, Hotu was ready to honour his promise to return for those he’d left behind in Hawaiki. The rangatira had vowed he’d return for them. Now he planned to make good on that.

Sitting on the same beach Ronui had delivered him to, he reflected on his time in the land of Kupe. The migration had proven to be an inspired move, and, after a difficult period of adjustment, the new land had been good to him and his followers.

This peaceful and bountiful place was everything he’d hoped for and more. He felt content. But he was aware he couldn’t truly relax until he’d brought the remainder of the villagers from his Hawaikan homeland to this southern sanctuary – or until he’d brought those prepared to undertake the dangerous voyage at least. He wondered if his beloved parents would be among them. That was if they were still alive.

Hotu surveyed the blue waters of the bay. This was his bay. Already it had the familiarity of home. It was almost as though he’d been born here. To his right was the headland he viewed as the guardian of the bay, and beyond the bay’s calm waters he could make out the white caps of the open sea. Far beyond them, in his mind’s eye, he could picture another bay – a bay more tropical than this, fringed by palm trees and guarded by the twin volcanic peaks of Ronui and Tautira.

A cool easterly breeze ruffled the waters of the bay, prompting Hotu to pull his feathered shawl about his broad shoulders. It was a reminder that temperatures in the new land were significantly cooler than the Tropics. Summer was fast approaching, but it still felt more like winter.

Hotu’s thoughts turned, as they often did, to Ra and the others aboard Tautira. The rangatira and his men and had spent many long weeks searching north and south along the coastline, but there’d been no sign of the others and no sightings of bodies, possessions or flotsam from their canoe. The obvious conclusion was they’d perished at sea. He wasn’t to know his fellow voyagers had landed safely several hundred miles to the north. A trek of many weeks separated the two groups, and they would never meet in his lifetime.

Of equal or greater concern to Hotu was the non-appearance of one or more of the great fleet of canoes that had been expected to follow soon after he and Ra departed Hawaiki. He had anticipated at least one of the seven vessels would have made landfall on this section of the coastline, but there hadn’t been any sightings to suggest that others had arrived in Aotearoa.

Hotu suspected the fleet had either been destroyed by storms or by his people’s longtime enemies, the Dogfaces. In fact, he was right on both counts. A cyclone had delayed the fleet’s departure, sinking three of the craft, and their enemies had arrived soon after, commandeering the remaining canoes and killing many villagers.

The sounds of construction brought the rangatira back to the present. Above the high water mark a little way along the beach, a dozen men were busy adding the finishing touches to a new voyaging canoe Hotu had named Nuku Hiva after the Hawaikan island that was once their home. Smaller than the giant craft that had delivered them to these shores, it was nevertheless a sturdy vessel capable of carrying as many as thirty passengers and crew. They called it a waka, their name for this new style of canoe, and it was now only days from completion.

The rangatira became aware of Kafoa’s presence as the boy sat next to him on the sand. Now eight, his son remained a source of great pride. He reminded him of himself at that age. They acknowledged each other with a smile.

“I wish I could go with you, papa,” a wistful Kafoa said.

“Our people need a leader while I am away,” Hotu reminded him.

Kafoa nodded. He knew the real reason he wouldn’t be accompanying his father was the outward journey, against the prevailing winds, would be very dangerous and only the most experienced sailors could cope with the challenges it would throw at them. “When do you leave?”

“Soon.” Hotu put an arm around his son’s shoulders. “It must be soon if we are to avoid the cyclone season.”

Kafoa absentmindedly studied the stub of the additional finger on his left hand. At length, he said, “You will return safely, papa.” He spoke with the confidence of the young.

“Of course,” Hotu agreed. “The spirits of our ancestors are with us.”

They studied the nearby waka. The Nuku Hiva was of similar design to Ronui, but smaller and constructed of different timbers. A hand-picked crew of twenty experienced sailors would accompany Hotu. They would include Rangi, the rangatira’s faithful navigator of many years.

#

A week later, the Nuku Hiva departed for Hawaiki with Hotu at the helm. The journey proved every bit as arduous as he had feared. Fierce storms dogged the voyagers for much of the way, testing them to their limits. The waka capsized twice and three crewmembers were lost overboard before the survivors reached Hawaiki some seven weeks after departing Aotearoa.

Hotu and his men received a rapturous welcome from the Hawaikan villagers. Tearful reunions and celebrations lasted many days as friends and family members were reunited and their stories were shared.

There was sadness, too, as the new arrivals learned of the deaths of loved-ones who had perished as a result of illness, old age, famine or violence at the hands of their enemies. Among those who had passed were Hotu’s parents. The rangatira learned his father had died in his sleep a year earlier, and his mother of a broken heart shortly after. There were many similar stories.

Hotu was hailed as a hero by the villagers. Against all odds, their rangatira had not only found Kupe’s land, but he’d returned for them – just as he’d promised.

Returning to Hawaiki proved something of a bitter sweet experience for the new arrivals. While it was wonderful to be reunited with loved-ones, the sights that greeted them upon their arrival confirmed their decision to leave had been the right one. The village had been attacked quite recently by the Dogfaces. Almost every bure had been burnt to the ground, most of the fighting men had been slaughtered and many of the women and children killed or taken as slaves. Those villagers who remained were despondent. The returned travellers felt guilty they hadn’t been here to protect them.

Hotu learned that neighbouring settlements, including Ra’s former village, had suffered a similar fate. To make matters worse, the people were starving after two years of drought and failed crops, and one of the worst cyclones in living memory had levelled most of the coastal villages.

It took little persuasion to convince the villagers – or those of them who were young and fit enough at least – to rebuild the fleet and return to Aotearoa with Hotu and his men. The prevailing attitude was different now that the existence of Kupe’s land had been proven beyond all doubt. To the downtrodden Hawaikans it sounded like paradise.

So, the rebuilding of seven giant voyaging wakas began and it wasn’t long before the sounds of construction rang out from dawn to dusk at various seaside villages around the island. This would be the big migration, and departure of the great fleet was scheduled for early the following spring.

Hotu personally supervised the design and construction of the vessels. He named one of them Arawa in honour of his late grandfather. Villagers made human sacrifices and prayed to their gods, asking them to keep cyclones and enemies at bay until after the great fleet departed.

For once the gods listened.

#

In the spring of 1304, the seven wakas that comprised the Great Fleet departed Hawaiki for Aotearoa. The southern ocean’s winds and currents dispersed the fleet far and wide, but at least five vessels, including the Arawa, reached their destination. Landfall for the new arrivals was at widely separate points along the eastern and western coastlines of Aotearoa’s northern island. More migrations would follow with wakas landing on the shores of both the northern and southern islands.

The descendants of these people would retain their common ancestry, and their tribal names would forever link them with the craft that brought them to these shores. Unfortunately, this would count for nothing when Aotearoa became over-populated and the competition for land and food began.

It was early May and the men of the Endeavour were enjoying their stay at Matavai Bay so much that many had all but forgotten the purpose of their visit. As the transit of Venus neared, Cook reminded his men in no uncertain terms of the reason they were in Tahiti.

Construction of a fort, appropriately named Fort Venus, at the northeastern end of the bay was almost…

The morning after the Endeavour’s arrival at Matavai Bay dawned bright and sunny, a welcome change from the recent foul weather.

Even before the crew had finished breakfasting in the mess, a cry went up that a canoe was approaching. Nicholas and several other crewmen hurried topside and saw two paddlers propelling the canoe toward them across the calm waters of the lagoon. Behind the paddlers sat an impressive-looking Tahitian resplendent in a fine black cloak. His handsome head was adorned by a head-dress of colourful feathers. It was obvious from his appearance, and from the ornate carvings on the bow of his canoe, he was someone of importance.

Aboard the Endeavour, the bosun gave the order to prepare for the arrival of the mystery visitor. A ladder was thrown over the starboard rail as the canoe arrived and two sailors leaned over the side to help the Tahitian on board.

Nicholas noted the visitor appeared to be in his mid-twenties. He possessed an engaging smile, which he flashed frequently, and, to everyone’s surprise, he spoke passably-good English and even better French – a legacy of earlier visits by other ships, and a testimony also to his intelligence and penchant for foreign languages.

“Bonjour mes amis,” the visitor announced grandly, “je suis Tupaia.” Switching to English, he added, “Tupaia is your trustworthy guide and…ah…interpreter for time you stay Matavai Bay.”

Nicholas and the others were astounded to hear someone they considered a savage speaking both French and English so far from Europe and Mother England.

The visitor seemed amused by their reaction. “You wonder how I know your language,” he said perceptively. His smile widened, revealing a set of pearly white teeth. “You not first white men I seen.”

Bosun Robert Molyneaux, as taken aback as the rest by the confidence of the multilingual fop standing before them, muttered, “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a real fucking charmer here.” Turning to a sailor, he said, “Fetch the captain.”

The sailor hurried off and the ever-smiling Tupaia waited patiently, seemingly unbothered by the inquisitive looks he was attracting.

Several minutes later, Cook appeared on deck. “Greetings, Mister Tupaia,” the captain said, having been alerted to the visitor’s name.

“Good day, Captain,” Tupaia beamed as he clasped Cook’s hand between both of his hands.

Cook took an immediate liking to the visitor. He judged him to be a confident chap with an intelligent air. A charming savage, he told himself.

As the two men sized each other up, Nicholas and the other onlookers made their own evaluations. Like most Tahitians, Tupaia cut a fine figure. Yet he was very different to his countrymen. Slender of build and more refined than most, he seemed thoughtful and inquisitive, his sparkling eyes forever moving from one white face to the next as he assessed the strangers around him.

It was Tupaia who spoke next. “Captain, as I, ah, tell your people…I am guide and interpreter…for rest of your stay.” It was a statement, not a request. “Make your time here easy for you.”

Cook looked at him shrewdly. He was sure the Tahitian’s services would be useful, and he was in no doubt the man would expect to be well paid for those services.

As if reading his mind, Tupaia continued smoothly, “Captain, I also high priest and very good navigator. It give me great, ah, happy…to be of service.”

Delighting in the other’s charm, Cook dropped his reserve and clapped the Tahitian on the shoulder. “By thunder, Mister Tupaia, I can see ye will be an asset to this vessel and all who sail aboard her!” Turning to the bosun, he said, “Mister Molyneaux, bring our visitor to the quarterdeck.”

“Aye, Captain,” the bosun said.

With that, Cook turned heel and strode off, leaving Molyneaux to escort Tupaia to the quarterdeck.

Intrigued, Nicholas followed at a discreet distance. At the foot of the ladder leading to the deck, he invented an imaginary cleaning task to attend to. From there he could just make out the gist of the conversation.

“I was priest at Raiatea,” Nicholas heard Tupaia saying, “not far from here, when we…invaded by cannibals…from Bora Bora. I lucky to escape and end here…at mercy of beautiful Queen Obadia.”

On the quarterdeck, the mention of a queen caught Cook’s attention. He guessed she belonged to the big rangatira they’d met the previous day – the man his crew referred to as Hercules. “How many other ships have visited here?”

“Three other tall ships.”

Cook looked up sharply. He knew the English frigate, the Dolphin, had visited Tahiti two years earlier – in 1767. It was her charts he was using now. The Royal Navy had suspicions that the Spanish had visited since. This new information would seem to confirm it. “Do ye recall what flag they sailed under?” he asked.

Tupaia looked puzzled.

“What nationality were they?” Cook asked.

“First was from your country. The Dolphin… I think. I learn my good English, ah, from men on Dolphin.”

“Ye obviously had fine teachers,” Cook said sincerely.

Tupaia beamed.

“And the other two?” Cook prompted.

“They both from France.”

“From France?”

The Tahitian nodded. He could see he had Cook’s full attention now.

“Ye are sure?” the captain persisted.

“Oui, Monsieur,” Tupaia said, switching to fluent French. In that same tongue, he added, “That is why my French is, how you say, first class.”

“How long since they were here?”

Switching back to English, Tupaia said, “First not long after Dolphin go…and second only, um, two full moons ago.”

Cook made a note to record the facts in his logbook. The Lords of the Admiralty would be interested to learn of these developments. The race between nations to add new lands to their ever-expanding empires was now truly underway. Confirmation of France’s interest in these far-flung territories would add to the concerns England already had over Spain’s aggressive expansionist policies.

Tupaia’s information confirmed for Cook he’d be more than useful as a guide and interpreter for the duration of the Endeavour’s stay. After some robust negotiation, a deal was struck between the two men.

From his post, Nicholas learned the charming interpreter would receive payment in the form of European cloth, garments and other items as well as having full use of cramped but private quarters aboard ship.

Tupaia was enthusiastic in his thanks. As something of a ladies’ man, he knew the white man’s clothes would make him even more desirable to Matavai Bay’s wahines.

For his part, Cook thought he’d gotten the best of the deal. He was sure the English-speaking popinjay would be valuable to him in the weeks ahead. His sole concern, apart from the safety of ship and crew, was to complete a successful observation of the transit of Venus, now less than seven weeks away. To facilitate this, he knew he’d need to have the goodwill of the local villagers, and he was confident Tupaia would help smooth the way. The very thought of having to contend with warring natives while trying to carry out so precise an astronomical assignment was too awful to contemplate.

Yes, Cook thought, Tupaia would indeed be useful.

Before leaving, the Tahitian extended an invitation on behalf of Queen Obadia for Cook and his entire company to attend a feast in their honour the following day. The captain readily accepted the invitation then he and his crewmen watched as Tupaia descended the ladder to the waiting canoe and was paddled back to the beach.

For the entire return trip, the smiling Tahitian sat about-face at the stern, waving at his newfound friends aboard the Endeavour. Tupaia was excited that after tomorrow’s feast he would take up temporary lodgings aboard the white man’s vessel. He hoped those lodgings might become permanent for he longed to see for himself what lay beyond Tahiti’s shores.

#

The following day dawned hot and humid in Tahiti. “Good feckin drinking weather,” Cook’s men decreed aboard the Endeavour.

Two of the bark’s longboats were used to ferry the captain and some eighty-five men – officers, marines and crew – to shore where they would be guests of the island’s queen at the feast she’d planned. Several return trips were needed to complete the exercise.

Nicholas counted himself lucky to be among those chosen to go ashore. An armed guard of nine men, including two marines, remained on board to protect the bark.

On shore, the visitors were greeted by a crowd of several hundred friendly villagers. Nicholas was once again struck by the physical presence of these people. The wahines were as fetching and beguiling as any man could imagine, and the men were tall and upright of stature with strong, athletic physiques.

To the fore was the ever-smiling Tupaia who appeared to have taken it upon himself to direct proceedings. The English-speaking priest looked markedly different today, dressed as he was from head to foot in European garments he’d acquired the previous day as advance payment for his services. Those garments included a gentleman’s gold-embroidered waistcoat, knee breeches and white stockings, an over-the-head white shirt with ruffled sleeve-ends displaying ornamental buttons, a cravat-like neck cloth, and a tricorn, or cocked hat, with folded brim. The fop’s outfit was spoiled only by his heeled, leather shoes, which were obviously too small and which caused him to limp noticeably.

While Tupaia attracted amused looks and comments from the visitors, Nicholas noticed he also drew admiring glances from the wahines and looks of envy from the Tahitian men. He couldn’t help liking the interpreter and promised himself he’d engage the man in conversation at the earliest opportunity.

Before the visitors could object, they were individually hoisted onto the shoulders of their hosts and carried up well-worn pathways leading to the village, which was situated among palm trees on a rise overlooking the beach and the reef beyond it. Special treatment was afforded Cook who was transported in the queen’s own covered litter, which was supported on bamboo poles and was carried by six muscular warriors, all members of the queen’s personal guard.

The aromas of the feast awaiting them were detectable well before the visitors reached the village. Roast pork, barbecued turtle, fried breadfruit and a myriad of other exotic foods smelled irresistible to men who had been on ship’s rations for so long.

Upon entering the village, the visitors noted it was surrounded by a stockade constructed of sharpened bamboo poles and it accommodated several hundred bures. The dwellings provided shelter from the elements courtesy of their distinctive thatched rooves while their basic design meant they could easily be rebuilt if levelled in a cyclone.

The villagers appeared to be familiar with adversity and warfare as the signs were everywhere. Many of the males were armed or had their primitive weapons close by, and sun-bleached human skulls adorned the top of the bamboo poles along the seaward side of the stockade. Nicholas estimated some five hundred skulls were on display – grizzly mementos of past battles over many decades or perhaps centuries.

There was evidence here, too, of cannibalism. Crewmembers stumbled across a cooking pot containing the remains of some poor soul. His tattooed head, minus his eyes and tongue, together with his arms and one fleshy thigh were all that remained. The men were thankful the pot was some distance from where the feast was being prepared.

Questioned about this gruesome find, Tupaia vehemently denied any knowledge of cannibalism among his people. He did admit it was practised by their enemies – “Especially those evil, piss-drinking, shit-eating pigs from Bora Bora!” – but certainly not by his people.

Beyond Tahiti’s shores little was known of the remote island nation’s bloody history even though some mighty sea battles had taken place in these waters. One of the biggest involved some five thousand war canoes. That conflict took place when some of the village elders were young boys. Those same elders claimed the bloodshed turned the waters of Matavai Bay red.

Cook had heard reports from reliable sources of epic sea battles between warring parties here and also further north, in Hawaii. Apparently, some war canoes could accommodate over a hundred warriors, and, from specially-constructed fighting platforms, they would hurl spears and rocks down at their enemies.

The captain didn’t underestimate his hosts. Despite their hospitality and friendly nature, it was clear these were a people capable of extreme violence. Turning to Second Lieutenant Hicks, he said, “Ensure your men remain vigilant, Mister Hicks!” Shouting to make himself heard above the hullabaloo around them, he added, “They’re to have muskets at the ready at all times.”

“Aye, Captain,” Hicks said. The officer dropped back to ensure the marines under his command were ready for trouble. As a professional fighting man, he shared his captain’s cautious attitude – as did his subordinate Sergeant Edgecumbe.

At the same time, Cook decided their first task once the festivities were over would be the construction of a sturdy fort near the beachhead. He was aware they’d need a secure land base from which to operate in the weeks ahead. It was as though he’d had a premonition. His misgivings were well-placed for it would be on another Pacific island as captain of another vessel that natives like these would take his life. But that was nearly ten years away and Cook would cross more oceans before then.

#

Any concerns about how the day would go were soon dispelled. The Tahitians turned out to be generous hosts. Europeans were still a novelty here even if they didn’t engender the excitement crews of earlier ships had. Those visitors had been greeted as white gods who had been delivered to these shores on the backs of giant seabirds – a belief fostered by the billowing sails first seen when the ships were still far out at sea. The Tahitians knew better now. Even so, the visitors from the Endeavour were treated like royalty for the villagers lusted after the sparkling beads, fancy garments, modern tools and other trade items they’d brought with them.

In the village centre, the guests sat with their hosts on grass mats, which had been laid out in a semi-circle. They were waited on by smiling wahines bearing generous servings of the juice of some exotic fruit served in the husks of hollowed-out coconuts. 

Never having been exposed to such beauty and generosity before, Nicholas looked on wide-eyed. He wasn’t alone. Even those crewmen who were hardened sailors lapped up the attention being lavished upon them.

Soon the hubbub of chatter and laughter ceased. Only the small children, naked and oblivious to the politics of the occasion, continued making a noise as they played nearby.

Tupaia made sure he sat next to Cook in order to provide his new master with a running commentary of the proceedings. “We await, ah, arrival of Queen Obadia and her, um, consort,” he informed the captain.

Cook nodded. The captain was eager to meet the queen. If he could forge good relations with the island’s ruler, his stay would be so much easier.

The minutes dragged by. In the oppressive heat and humidity the men of the Endeavour grew restless. Some grumbled that valuable drinking time was going to waste. Scowling, Cook and his lieutenants shot furious glances at the main culprits.

A sudden fanfare heralded the arrival of the royal party. Two trumpeters had begun blowing into conches. The haunting sound the large seashells produced quietened even the children for a few moments.

Nicholas, seated near the front just behind Tupaia, had already decided Tahiti was everything he’d dreamed it would be, surrounded as he was by beautiful wahines. Already one or two of them had caught his eye. Any thoughts he had for them vanished the second he laid eyes on Queen Obadia. She emerged from a cluster of large bures that comprised the royal living quarters. At her side, but always one step behind, was her consort Hercules. The massive rangatira towered over her, but everyone had eyes only for the queen.

At the sight of Queen Obadia, the air was driven from Nicholas’s lungs. It was as if Hercules himself had punched him in the gut.

She’s beautiful!

Nicholas fought for breath as he took in every feature of the royal figurehead who was now standing only a few paces from him. He knew there wasn’t a more exquisite creature on the face of the planet. Others around him were equally impressed. Despite the fact that she was probably nearer forty than thirty, her radiance and beauty outshone that of the prettiest wahine. Statuesque, her golden skin was unblemished, and beneath the colourful cape that hung from her graceful shoulders her body was, in Nicholas’s opinion, perfection personified. When she moved she glided gracefully, like the dancer she once was. High cheek bones gave her face a rare and exotic beauty, but her most riveting feature was her almond eyes. Large and hypnotic, they roamed over the faces of the visitors seated before her, settling for one magical instant on Nicholas’s face. In that split-second he thought he saw something register in the queen’s eyes. Then it was gone as she turned her attention to others.

In the few moments since Queen Obadia’s appearance the villagers had prostrated themselves before her, arms outstretched and foreheads touching the grass. She gestured to them to rise then sat down regally on a throne-like chair that her servants had placed behind her. The chair had been fashioned from driftwood and was covered in colourful cloaks.

Nicholas had noted the ever-present Hercules was the only villager who remained standing while the others bowed down before their queen. Knowing he was the queen’s consort repelled him. He couldn’t imagine so beautiful a woman sharing her bed mat with such a grotesque hulk.

As if on cue, the hulk stepped forward and launched into a welcoming speech in his native tongue – a speech that seemed to go on forever. When he finally finished, he stepped back and nodded to Tupaia. At this pre-arranged signal, the priest who doubled as an interpreter jumped to his feet and delivered a mercifully-shortened translation of the rangatira’s speech. It wasn’t without humour – thanks largely to Tupaia’s somewhat creative interpretation and theatrical delivery.

A traditional exchange of gifts followed. With the assistance once more of Tupaia as interpreter, Cook presented Queen Obadia with an expensive blue robe made of pure silk. The queen accepted it gracefully.

To Hercules, Cook presented a ceremonial sword, not dissimilar to the one stolen from Warrant Officer Wilkinson’s cabin two days earlier. The queen’s consort beamed his appreciation as he accepted the sword. Looking on, the still-miffed Wilkinson wondered if his stolen sword was occupying pride of place in Hercules’s bure. For sure, he thought, the big lump would have commandeered his most prized possession. The same thought had apparently crossed Cook’s mind and he shot a wry glance at his grim-faced officer.

Queen Obadia and Hercules reciprocated, producing gifts of their own, which servants distributed to Cook. Their offerings included a litter of six young piglets for the captain’s crewmembers to take back with them to the Endeavour. A murmur of appreciation immediately went up from the seamen. Not since Rio had pork been on the menu.

The feast that followed was worth the wait. Served on trays fashioned from the bark of trees, it included all manner of exotic fruit, fresh crayfish, prawns and oysters, and roasted pork and turtle meat topped with coconut cream. The food was served with generous quantities of kava, which, despite being an acquired taste, was well received by most of the visitors.

Throughout proceedings Nicholas tried in vain to catch another glimpse of the queen – his queen, for that’s how he thought of her now. He was aware from the first second he laid eyes on her he’d fallen hopelessly in love. She was his first true love. Unfortunately, he never saw more than a fleeting glimpse of her again that day as she remained surrounded and largely hidden from view by throngs of her admiring subjects.

Nicholas’s reaction to the queen’s stunning beauty hadn’t been lost on his crewmates who, to his everlasting embarrassment, began ribbing him mercilessly. It had also been noted by Tupaia. He’d seen the surgeon boy’s star-struck reaction to the queen’s appearance. It didn’t surprise him. Over the years, he’d seen many others come under her spell – himself included.

More significantly, however, Tupaia had noted his queen’s reaction upon seeing the lad. It had only been a fleeting one, barely lasting a second, but Tupaia recognised it. She’d once looked at him like that. His loins tingled at the memory of the solitary night of passion that had followed. It was a memory he nurtured and would carry with him to the grave.

Ever the schemer, Tupaia filed his astute observations in his ever-active brain.

By now the celebrations were in full swing and many of the visitors were becoming intoxicated. Some of the worst-affected of the Endeavour’s company lay in a stupor on the ground while those still sober or partly sober participated in the trading now underway; others took advantage of the comforts offered by friendly wahines. Many of the womenfolk were either married or betrothed yet their promiscuity seldom caused arguments. The Tahitians’ unconstrained attitude to sex and, indeed, to life itself, was as far from European ways as Tahiti was from England.

Unfortunately, venereal disease would soon sweep through the Endeavour’s crew, affecting thirty-two sailors and six of the marines – an unfortunate development that would surprise Cook. Surgeon Monkhouse had assured him his men were not poxed before they reached Tahiti, and the Dolphin’s medical records confirmed that the clap had not been a problem during her visit to these same shores. This could only mean the French were the culprits as their ships had been the only vessels to anchor in Matavai Bay since the Dolphin’s historic visit.

#

The afternoon shadows were lengthening before the last of the shore party were ferried back to the Endeavour. Cook was satisfied the feast had helped establish good relations with Queen Obadia and her people; the crewmembers were happy about the hospitality they’d enjoyed – especially those who had been entertained by the wahines; and Nicholas was more than happy he’d set eyes on the beautiful queen. His beautiful queen.

A few full moons shy of two years after arriving in Aotearoa, Hotu was ready to honour his promise to return for those he’d left behind in Hawaiki. The rangatira had vowed he’d return for them. Now he planned to make good on that.

Sitting on the same beach Ronui had delivered him to, he reflected on his time in the land of Kupe. The migration had proven to be an inspired move, and, after a difficult period of adjustment, the new land…

The early days in the new land were difficult days for those Hawaikans who survived the epic sea voyage from their homeland. In the first year more deaths further reduced their number although those were partly offset by the births of several babies. And so far the land of the long white cloud was living up to its name: it was cloudy. With the clouds came rain and cooler temperatures, and the new arrivals shivered as they adapted to life in this foreign place.

Food, or lack of it, was the most crucial issue facing them. The abundant food sources of the islands of the South Pacific were sadly lacking. There was no sign of the pigs, turtles, bananas, coconuts, kumaras or yams they were familiar with. Wild berries from the hīnau, karaka and other native trees were the only fruits available. Though there was a profusion of fish and bird life, new fishing and hunting techniques had to be mastered before those creatures could be added to the recently arrivals’ diet in any quantity.

More than a few of the Ronui survivors wondered if they’d made the right decision in coming here.

Hotu remained staunch. The rangatira knew there’d be hardships to overcome before his people would be at one with the land. He was sure Kupe’s followers had faced the same problems all those centuries ago. Whether they had survived was another story. The same unanswered question applied to Ra and the others aboard Tautira as well as to those who had planned to follow Ra and himself to the new land as soon as their craft were seaworthy.

So far not one sign of another human being had been found. Not even a solitary footprint.

The first hunting expedition into the unexplored interior provided a much-needed boost for flagging spirits. Concerned they’d seen no pigs, or any animals for that matter, along the coast, Hotu led a dozen hunters inland. Their number included Kafoa who made up for his tender age and inexperience with enthusiasm. The hunters never found pigs, but what they did find soon proved to be as good.

On the flatlands and rolling hills between the coast and the mountains, they discovered mobs of giant birds. The biggest of these emu-like creatures stood taller than the tallest man, and, Hotu observed, they had plenty of meat on their bones. Better still, like some other birds in this land, they were flightless. With no natural predators, until now, they had no need of wings. The moa, as they came to be called, were timid and easily killed. Moas quickly became a staple part of their hunters’ diet and would remain so until their extinction less than two centuries later.

In a land curiously devoid of land animals – apart from the dogs and rats the new arrivals brought with them – the moa’s meat provided a valuable source of much-needed protein. And their plumage, like that of their smaller relative, the kiwi, was put to good use making warm and decorative feather cloaks and blankets.

As the months passed and the summer of 1302 faded into autumn, Hotu’s people learned new hunting and fishing techniques, and other foods were added to their diet. These included numerous species of birds, fish, eels, shellfish, berries and root crops. The latter included the shoots and root of the commonplace fern.

As familiarity with the land’s natural resources grew, so did mastery of new building techniques grow. Small, single-entrance, windowless whares [huts], designed to keep their occupants snug and warm, were constructed while native flax was used as the basis for clothes and matting in place of the paper mulberry tree of the islands.

Life slowly became more bearable for the new settlers. Hawaiki and those loved-ones who had been left behind were always in their thoughts, but every one of them accepted their future was here, in Aotearoa. Here, they were safe. They had no enemies. Not yet at least.

By the end of their second summer, they were already becoming tangata whenua – people of the land.

The morning after the Endeavour’s arrival at Matavai Bay dawned bright and sunny, a welcome change from the recent foul weather.

Even before the crew had finished breakfasting in the mess, a cry went up that a canoe was approaching. Nicholas and several other crewmen hurried topside and saw two paddlers propelling the canoe toward them across the calm waters of the lagoon. Behind the paddlers sat an impressive-looking Tahitian resplendent in a fine black cloak. His handsome head was adorned by a head-dress of colourful feathers. It was obvious…

This novel is available via Amazon as a hardcover, paperback, audiobook and Kindle ebook… https://www.amazon.com/New-Zealand-Novel-Lance-Morcan/dp/0473728524/