Witi Ihimaera - The Parihaka Woman

‘“No, Papa,” she said. “ No !” and she pushed him away.’

The first month drew to an end, with winter closing in. Erenora had kept close watch on Rocco, waiting for him to disclose another role, as gaoler on Peketua Island. While out with Marzelline, she had also made quick searches along the immediate beach to see if there were any secret places a prisoner might be kept. But Rocco’s anger when Marzelline had taken the cliff path with Napoleon had put paid to any wider search.

If Horitana was here, where was he?

Finally, with great daring, she decided to raise the subject at supper.

Rocco mocked her. ‘Me, a gaoler for some secret prisoner?’

Erenora almost believed him.

‘Then one day,’ Erenora wrote, ‘ Marzelline drove Napoleon at a fast canter along the beach to the very end.

‘Although there was a spur that blocked any further advancement, there was also a short tunnel to the other side. Most times the sea was too high to allow you to go through it but, on this particular day, it was a very low tide — down to only a couple of inches of water.

‘Marzelline was feeling impatient that day. She was looking particularly pretty and tossed her curls, saying, “Ach, Eruera, don’t you think that sometimes our world is too small?” She was still chafing at the limits her father placed on her independence, and I was cross with her that we had gone so far. “I’m late for my shift,” I said. Pouting, Marzelline turned the trap homeward.

‘We were making our way back to the cottage when, in the distance, there was a flash from the clifftop. Marzelline took out her mirror and replied. “It’s only Papa,” she said. “He hasn’t waited for you. He’s started his long nature walk. He must trust you, Eruera.”

‘I was instantly alert. “Where does he go?”

‘“Once a week he walks to a special place on the other side of the island to watch the seabirds. He likes to look at the birds, the penguins, seals and sea lions — they’re all of intense interest to him.” Then she pursed her lips and watched until Rocco had disappeared. “Good,” she said, “the mice can play!” She looked back at the hole — it was still fairly close — and I could see her scheming. “Let’s go back.” She shook Napoleon’s reins, turned him around and uttered her wild warrior cry.

‘“No!” I shouted. What if we were trapped by the incoming tide? Or if the cart hit a submerged rock and threw Marzelline into the waves? “Don’t go any further,” I called, but Marzelline took no notice. The water sprayed around Napoleon’s hooves and the wheels of the cart, and then, through the hole Marzelline drove the cart. Quickly I splashed after her.

‘“What took you so long?” she laughed when I joined her. “Isn’t it beautiful on this side?”

‘“You could have been killed,” I answered angrily.

‘“Poor Eruera, I scared you.” Taking no further notice of me, she urged Napoleon out of the shallows onto the sand.

‘Ahead was a brackish lagoon separated from the sea by snags and ridged sandbars. It was the kind of place where the detritus of the ocean was brought by swirling currents. Trapped in a bowl made by sheer cliffs leaning against the sky, the currents had no option but to drop their rubbish: piles of driftwood, mainly, and the bones of a giant whale.

‘Marzelline drove Napoleon along the rim of the bowl until we came to a fall of rocks, caused by the eroding sea. “We’d better turn back,” I said to her. “The tide is coming in fast.”

‘She nodded, “Ja, mir ist sowieso langweilig. I’m bored anyway. Nur totes Zeug hier. There are only dead things here.” Then something caught her attention. She shaded her eyes and pointed at it. “What’s that?”

‘I was looking at her and I swear that the first time I saw the remains of the old wreck was when they appeared in her clear blue eyes. I followed the direction of her gaze.

‘The hulk must have been there for many years. It looked as if, once upon a time, it had had three masts. Driven by countless storms, it had been pushed against the cliffs and come to rest in the sheltered hook of the lagoon. Only the stern and part of the upper deck and upper gun deck were exposed; most of the wreck was skeletal or buried in water and sand. On the stern was some faded lettering:

VICOMTE DE BRAGELONNE

‘“Oh,” Marzelline said, “it must have been a French ship.”

‘Vicomte de Bragelonne. I remembered the rumour about Horitana being held in the hulk of such a ship. Could he have been kept in the stern? I left Marzelline in the cart, then splashed swiftly through the shallow water to the hulk and clambered in.

‘“Eruera?” Marzelline called. She sounded petulant, as if cross that she couldn’t accompany me. I heard her encourage Napoleon to catch up.

‘First I searched the upper deck and gun deck, but it was silted up and awash with water. I then turned to investigate the great cabin at the stern. The floor had collapsed long ago and one side was completely exposed to the elements. Nobody could possibly have been imprisoned there.

‘Then I thought of Rocco — nature walking, once a week a long walk to the other side of the island while I am on duty — and my heart quickened.

Perhaps Horitana had been moved.

‘I took Marzelline back to the cottage.

‘“Won’t you stay and keep me company while Papa is away?” she asked.

‘“No,” I answered. “I had best be about my other chores.”

‘She pouted a little but her moods were always mercurial. “Never mind,” she said brightly, “I’ll make you a lovely pudding for supper.” I left her humming in the kitchen and, with relief, set off at a run along the cliff path. The lighthouse would just have to look after itself.

‘The sky was pearly, washed with pink and purple. When I reached the top of the cliff I thought I’d lost Rocco: after all, he had quite a lead. Then, far off, I saw a faint flash of sun reflecting off the spyglass and realised that good fortune favoured me. I ran, moving fast to make up the time between Rocco and me. About twenty minutes later, perspiring heavily, I reached the spot where I’d last seen him and then, ten minutes later, I was just in time to see him strike purposefully north-west across the island. He must have been this way many times before: the grass was flattened, and he had chipped away scrub and branches to give him easier passage.

‘The physical characteristics of the other side of the island came as a revelation to me. There was a view over the stormy 7-mile passage that separated Peketua Island from the South Island. Oddly enough, the currents must have been as rough there as they were on the seaward side of Peketua. Their eroding force had created a coastline that had collapsed into a series of offshore pinnacles and sea stacks. Thousands of seabirds, obviously nesting there, wheeled above them.

‘Rocco came to a vent going down through a major fracture in the cliff; I presumed it had been created by some age-old volcanic activity. He sat there for a while, then began to look through his spyglass. I was disappointed: so he had come only to do some nature watching after all. But no, all of a sudden he began to carefully climb down a natural staircase in the cliffs. Then he disappeared.

‘I made my way after him to the rocky steps. I was tempted to follow him — but what if I met him on the way back? I decided I had to bide my time and come back another day.

‘But I knew, with certainty, that this was the island.’