Boundary

Chapter 9

Both Andrew and Eleanor were indentured to the New Zealand Company, he as an accountant and she as a housekeeper and cook for Colonel Wakefield. Their passage and accommodation, along with a very modest salary, were all provided for.

She continued to watch her husband who was oblivious to her loving gaze. He was special, she knew, and in more ways than one. Andy possessed a gift with numbers. He could instantly arrive at a result requiring the most complex of numeric calculations. Numbers were a game to him and he could instantly recall a page of numbers, discern a pattern, a discrepancy, or simply add, multiply, or subtract - it mattered not. He was never wrong and, with some smugness, enjoyed being challenged on his summations. No profession was better suited to Andrew Stewart and he enjoyed it with passion. Possessing a rather quick and dry wit that caused him to apologise frequently, he was tender, loving and genuine - they were also best friends. It didn't matter to her that Andrew carried a little excess weight and was not the physical specimen that other women sought in their men. Eleanor knew she was beautiful, that other men coveted and desired her and she could have any man. Instead, she fell in love with her childhood friend; for her, Andy was perfect. She turned her reflections outward, leaving Andy to his magazine, and enjoyed the changing sights and dynamic scenery of coastal New Zealand.

The Tory tossed aside the increased swell effortlessly as she entered the channel. The change in motion brought attention to their arrival and all heads turned to look outwards at the unfolding splendour. Pencils were returned to their cases, books and papers were stowed out of reach from the embrace of sea spray and damp. Through the ocean's haze and the smudge of distant green, the unidentified landscape dissolved to reveal lush vegetation, wooded hills and the clarity of sharp rocks that ringed a brutal and savage coastline. Maintaining protective vigilance, a mountainous range of hills surrounded Port Nicholson but allowed for an expansive flat valley that narrowed as it disappeared northwards. The sun's intensity heightened colours; the blues deep and mysterious, the greens vivid and calming and the white clouds, so bold - an exclamation point. It wasn't tropical, it wasn't temperate, it was distinctly unique. For the colonists and immigrants, it was familiar and would offer comfort, hope and a future. According to Colonel William Wakefield, this would be home.

Eleanor felt Andrew's presence. They stood shoulder to shoulder at the rail and each enjoyed the closeness. Without saying a word, he placed his hand on hers and together they shared the wonder declared before them.

"Māori call this place Te Whanganui-ā-Tara, it means the great harbour of Tara," volunteered Ngaiti who came on deck to join them.

"And who is Tara?" questioned Andrew.

"Legend has it that Tara was the son of a Polynesian who came to New Zealand many hundreds of years ago. It is said that Tara discovered this place," he answered.

"Then it is good to see that Māori is no different than Europeans in that way."

"Why is that?" asked Ngaiti, puzzled.

"The penchant for naming places after themselves."

Eleanor shook her head.

Further aft on the quarterdeck stood Colonel Wakefield and Dickie Barrett. Dickie pointed to various landmarks and features as they appeared and passed. Wakefield nodded appreciatively and asked questions that Barrett answered with informed confidence.

As the Tory passed further into the channel, the swell decreased and Captain Chaffers, on advice from Barrett, slowed the ship, ordering some of the sails lowered. Barrett pointed out to the captain a dangerous reef on the portside and indicated a safe course the Tory should sail. Captain Chaffers instructed the navigator to record the reef on their charts, keeping them updated with Barrett's expert local knowledge. Wakefield had the Captain's telescope and was studying the entrance to the large bay that lay directly ahead.

"That island is called Matiu," said Barrett, "and there is a smaller island to the right called Makaro."

Colonel Wakefield swung the telescope to study the two islands. "I can see the larger island is of considerable strategic importance, the smaller is nothing more than a large rock."

"Māori have lived on Matiu Island from time to time and yes, they recognized its importance," said Barrett.

Wakefield grunted and continued his appraisal of the bay.

"The mast lookout reports seeing two Māori war canoes heading in our direction, colonel," said Captain Chaffers, indicating from where they would appear.

Immediately all heads turned anxiously to the West, the canoes too distant to be seen.

"Are we in any danger?" asked Wakefield to Barrett.

"No sir, I doubt it. It's most likely they have come to talk, but you never know. If I could use the telescope?"

Barrett studied the distant canoes. He knew there was nothing to fear, it wasn't a war party, but it wouldn't hurt to let others feel a little anxious and cement their dependence on him.

"Captain, ensure that we have adequate protection. May I suggest running out our guns and have muskets at the ready in the event we are threatened," offered the colonel.

"Very well, sir, I concur," replied Captain Chaffers with a hint of nervousness.

Within moments, activity below deck saw the portside gun-ports opened and muskets were brought on deck. As it offered an ideal vantage point, some muskets were brought into the rigging where the lookouts were located.