Boundary

Chapter 2: Prologue

New Zealand House, #1 Adam Street, Adelphi, London. 1839

John Lambton cleared his throat, a call for quiet and a signal they were ready to begin. In anticipation, faces turned expectantly towards the New Zealand Company's Deputy Governor as he waited patiently for the scattered pockets of conversation to subside.

The New Zealand Company Board of Directors were all in attendance this evening at New Zealand House in London, as were a few company principals, including John Ward, the Company secretary and of course the obligatory clerk taking minutes. Outside in the hall waited Ngaiti, a young male Māori in the employ of Edward Wakefield. He was to provide service to Wakefield during the course of the meeting in the event his knowledge of New Zealand was required.

The large room quieted down, the silence broken by the snoring of William Hutt, M.P who, predictably, had nodded off. The attentive John Buckle leaned over and softly jostled Hutt's shoulder, who woke with a start uttering, "If it pleases the Speaker..." This prompted a bout of good-natured ribbing from those familiar with William Hutt's penchant for taking small, unscheduled naps during Company meetings.

Colonel William Wakefield was sharing an anecdote of particular hilarity with Sir William Molesworth, his laughter earning him a scathing look from his older brother Edward, who stood at the front of the room impatiently waiting for the meeting to commence. Once the assembled gentlemen calmed down and focused on John Lambton, Joseph Somes nodded at Lambton, encouraging him to speak.

"I received a letter from the Colonial Secretary, Lord John Russell..."

"That pompous ass!" cried John Abel Smith from the far corner of the room.

Ignoring the comment, Lambton paused briefly to highlight the seriousness of his announcement. He cast a sombre gaze at the group assembled before him and continued in a loud clear voice, "The Colonial Office has withdrawn its support for the New Zealand Company to colonize New Zealand - Parliament has refused to pass the bill!"

The room erupted, men turned to each other in shock. Immediately, a dozen simultaneous conversations began. Eilerker Boulcott, while sitting up, accidently spilled his brandy over the trousers of Arthur Willis, who in the furore, was unaware of the mishap. From across the room Edward and William Wakefield now exchanged a surreptitious glance of anticipation.

"We've come too far to stop now!" pleaded Molesworth.

"Gentlemen, please!" the voice of Somes rose above the din.

The room returned to order. Arthur Willis finally realized his trousers were wet as someone handed him a cloth.

"Sir William is correct, we have come too far to stop now," said John Lambton, acknowledging Molesworth with a nod.

"How much money have we raised in land sales?" inquired Francis Baring.

Lambton turned to Edward Gibbon Wakefield for his response. He stepped forward and remained silent as he assessed the assembled, powerful group of men. "At one-pound an acre, we have sold land to the value of one-hundred thousand pounds," said Wakefield smiling, offering the first good news of the evening. Again, the room responded, this time with murmurs of optimism and support, a few applauded enthusiastically.

"Why did the Colonial Office renege?" shouted an unknown voice.

"Apparently Lord Russell has received correspondence from the Church Mission Society and the Wesleyan Methodists who are somewhat hostile to our proposal," replied Lambton shaking his head.

"Those missionaries should concern themselves with spreading God's word and seeking salvation, and remove themselves from interfering with enterprise and commerce," suggested Molesworth who was now fired up.

"Hear! Hear!" came a chorus of solidarity.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen, we have much to discuss!" stated Deputy Governor Somes, raising both hands and appealing for order.

"In spite of Parliament's decision, we do have opportunity to honour our contractual obligations to the colonists. I think Edward Wakefield can better articulate our strategy," stated Lambton waving his arm, an indication for Wakefield to continue.

"Thank you, Governor." Wakefield paused and waited until he had the attention of all present. "Our objective, gentlemen, is to purchase large tracts of wasteland in New Zealand suitable for immediate habitation. This newly acquired land will also be the keystone of a modern, planned city designed by our capable experts and draughtsmen." Wakefield walked to a large board on a trestle that displayed a street map of a township. The map detailed neatly laid out symmetrical streets, government offices, public facilities, a harbour, green belt and gardens. All present had seen the map and discussed the plan at length during an earlier meeting.

"For this settlement to exist," Wakefield pointed to the map with emphasis, "we need flat land, a suitable harbour and a vendor willing to sell that land at the lowest possible price."

John Lambton stood, commanding the attention of those in the room. "This land, you call it wasteland?" He remained standing.

"Correct." replied Wakefield. "Wasteland is a term for land not currently inhabited or cultivated."

"I see, then what will be the method if we desire land that savages inhabit?" Lambton returned to his seat.

"Under the guiding principles of Systemic Colonisation, savages will be relocated," responded Edward with authority.

Lambton nodded his head, accepting the explanation.

Wakefield looked around the room, ensuring he still held everyone's full interest. "We must act as quickly as possible, before Parliament passes any legislation preventing us from doing this, as I believe they ultimately will. I propose that the New Zealand Company purchase a fast ship and with haste set sail to New Zealand. I suggest that my brother, William, as Principal Agent, lead this expedition, accompanied by the necessary support personnel, such as a surveyor, draughtsman, interpreter, surgeon and accountant, etc. I believe it will be in our best interests if we can accomplish this without fanfare. We do not want to alert the government of our intentions so that they can prevent us from exercising our rights as honest businessmen - do we?"

Clouds of cigar smoke enveloped the group as they listened with rapt interest.

"Dammit, Eddie, just find a ship and set sail!" shouted Lord Petre.

"I am pleased to announce we have found a suitable ship," announced Edward Wakefield, smiling at the Lord. "We've named her the Tory."

From outside on the darkened street, the sound of their raucous laughter filled the night.