Tommo & Hawk (31 page)

'Has you put this method of warfare to Wiremu Kingi?' I asks.

'I have done so, and he has said he will think on it.'

I grab Hawk by the arm. 'Then, Hawk, please! Ask Chief Tamihana if I can join you with the fifty-five fighting axes from our tribe, the Tommo Te Mokiri!'

'No, Tommo! It isn't possible!' Hawk throws up his hands in alarm. 'You must not endanger yourself! I am but an adviser, and will not myself fight.' His eyes grow wide. 'You could be killed!'

'Hawk, if you won't ask him, I will find a way to do it. Tamihana is well pleased with our skill with the fighting axe. If he lends some of his trained warriors to Wiremu Kingi, then the chief will surely want to join the King Movement! The Maori will be a united force like you want.'

I know Hawk's got to see the logic in this. After a while he says, 'I will ask Wiremu Kingi, but only if you do not fight with them.'

I laugh. I am no hero, but I'm never gunna get a better chance against the mongrels. I shakes me head. 'I trained 'em and I got to be with 'em when they fight. They will reckon me a coward otherwise!'

'Then I will not ask him,' Hawk says firmly.

'Hawk! I will find a way to fight, I swears it!'

'Tommo, if you get killed, why should I want to live?'

I look at him, furious now. 'Hawk Solomon, when you were in Wiremu Kingi's pa and the governor sent his ultimatum, tell me - if Chief Kingi had decided to fight, what would you have done? Run away?'

'I had resolved to fight,' Hawk says quietly.

'There! And did you think how I might feel? Here I am shitting meself that me twin is going to get killed!'

'Tommo! Tommo!' Hawk pleads, placing his hand on me shoulder. 'You don't understand. I don't want you to die for something I have done!'

'Well, we bloody near did in Kororareka gaol for something I done!'

Hawk sees I ain't giving in and changes tack. 'Right, Tommo! Let's go to Australia now! I will talk to Chief Tamihana. He knows nothing of my warfare plan. I will tell him it is time for us to leave. I'll say to him I can do no more for Wiremu Kingi and ask his help to get us onto a ship back to Australia.'

'Bull!' I says, jerking me shoulder away from his hand. 'You only want to go because of me!' I pauses and swallows hard. 'Of course I still wants to leave this damned place, sometime! But not as a coward and not because you wants to save me bloody useless life. And most of all, not so your stupid conscience be always troubled 'cause you ran away when you knows you should've stayed!'

I am shouting now and I wish I could punch his fancy tattooed gob! Smash his big white teeth in! 'Besides,' I yell, 'Makareta be expecting a baby!'

Hawk

The Land of the Long White Cloud

December 1859

Wiremu Kingi is set on war. He and his Ati Awa people have reached the end of their tether. The governor and his government will have no further discussions with the Maori, such is the white man's greed for land.

Once again I am sent by Chief Tamihana to persuade Wiremu Kingi to join the King Movement so that all the Maori on the North Island might speak with one voice. I try to convince the old chief of the advantages to be gained from waging guerrilla warfare as well.

'What know you of this war, Black Maori?' he asks. 'It is not the Maori way to leave their women and children. Have you yourself fought by these methods?'

I have to confess to him that I know of these tactics only through books.

'Ha! Books! Missionaries have books! What have books to do with making war?'

I explain to him that the British are fond of writing about their military tactics and methods of fighting. 'It is one of the ways in which they have conquered the world - they learn from history.'

This seems to impress the chief, but still he is obdurate. 'We have beaten the pakeha before. I shall build tunnels underground in our forts so that the big guns cannot harm us.'

I tell him that this is an excellent idea, but that a pa can only be defended for a limited time. 'If they cannot bring you out by means of muskets and artillery, they can starve you out, Chief Kingi.'

'That is true, it has happened before, but perhaps we will defeat them before it can be done?'

'It is possible that your fighters will be victorious once, or even twice, but the pakeha outnumber you in men and firepower. Sooner or later they will defeat you.'

At this remark the chief grows furious. 'Are you a coward to speak of defeat? We will kill all the pakeha. They cannot defeat us! This is our land, Maori land! Be gone. Come back only when you will talk of victory!'

I leave the hui, thinking that I have disappointed Tamihana. Expelled from Wiremu Kingi's presence and his tribe, I can do no good here. But it is late and I cannot travel until morning, so I prepare to rest.

Before I can close my eyes, a messenger, one of Kingi's warriors, enters my hut. 'Chief Kingi wishes to see you at once, Black Maori,' he says.

I wrap a blanket about me and go to the marae where the rangatira are still assembled. The old chief is silent a moment, then he points to me and barks, 'Black Maori, we have watched you now for many months. Why have you not taken a woman from our tribe? Is a Maori wahine not good enough for you? Answer, please!'

How can I tell him that I am a virgin? I have all the markings of the rangatira and though I have just turned nineteen, I look much older.

'I have had no time to look for a wahine,' I say, 'to find one who would take me willingly.'

'Willingly?' The Maori chief looks puzzled. 'I shall find you one!'

I thank him but say that I would like to choose her for myself.

His eyebrows shoot upwards at this. 'My choice is not good?'

'Your choice is most excellent, Chief, but it is a feeling I seek.' I put my hand to my heart. 'A feeling in here.'

Wiremu Kingi thinks this very funny, but after he has stopped chuckling he says, 'I have heard of this feeling, but it comes later, when a woman has been with you a long time and she has proved a worthy wife and given you many children.' He sighs as though he is talking to a young child. 'It is a good feeling to have for an old woman, who is a precious thing. How can you have such a feeling before you know what you are getting? When a wahine is still young and you have not tried her out?' Then, before I can answer, he adds, 'Perhaps she is barren, perhaps she cannot cook, or the milk in her breasts does not make your children strong. What if she is bad-tempered or lazy, cannot weave flax, or sings like a crow? What then of this feeling?'

'There is no Maori woman who sings like a crow,' I reply, smiling. How can I tell him that if I should love a woman, none of these things would matter to me? I shrug. 'It is something I cannot explain.'

Chief Wiremu Kingi looks at me shrewdly. 'Tell me, Black Maori, have you taken a woman to your bed?' The rangatira, who have been following our conversation with interest, wait tensely for my reply. I have never lied to the Maori but I think now is the time to do so. But Mary has trained me too well. 'No,' I say softly.

The assembled men howl with laughter and look at me in disbelief. Only Wiremu Kingi doesn't laugh. 'That is good, Black Maori. The Maori only die for two things, for women and for land. You will show us how to fight better for our land and I will show you how to choose a good woman to die for. A man cannot go to war without having known a woman! If you die now your ancestors would regard you with shame.'

'But... but…' I stammer.

'What is it?' The chief grows impatient.

'I am most honoured that you would choose a woman for me, Chief Kingi, but do I understand she is henceforth to be my wife… forever?'

This brings a fresh outburst of laughter and Wiremu Kingi shakes his head. 'There are a great many young widows in the tribe. I will choose one for you and she will bring her longing to your need. That will be marriage enough for the time being. She will not be your wife, Black Maori. We go to war and I would not have it that she be widowed twice over and so become bad tapu.' The chief waves me away. 'We will talk of your warfare after you have become a man.'

Some of the rangatira grin, but most nod their heads solemnly. I walk from the hui feeling small and ashamed, knowing all eyes are upon my back.

My heart is pounding as I try to think how it should be with a wahine. I have asked Tommo what it is like to make love, but his answers do not provide much enlightenment.

'Same as pullin' yerself off,' he offers. 'Only better and lots more happening upon yerself.'

'Like what?'

Tommo thinks for a moment. 'Softer, and her doing things back to ya.'

'What sort of things?'

Tommo looks a bit foolish. 'Kissing. Her tongue in your gob. You know, touching.'

'Tongue in my mouth, what for?'

Tommo grows impatient. 'It's nice, tongue in one soft place and cock in t'other.'

'Oh,' say I. Even though I have thought a thousand times about kissing, I have never imagined it as having anything to do with tongues. Soft, sweet lips touching my cheek or even sometimes my own lips, but I have never envisaged tongues anywhere but safely in their owners' mouths.

Watching me, Tommo suddenly gets a most mischievous look on his face. 'Not to mention sixty-nine.'

'Sixty-nine? What is sixty-nine?'

'Christ Jesus, Hawk! Didn't the blokes at the brewery teach ya nothing? Frenchies call it sixty-nine!' He grabs a twig and writes the two numbers in the dirt. 'Look! Can't ya see?'

I tilt my head to one side but all I can see are the numbers roughly marked. 'What's to see?'

Tommo looks plainly exasperated now. 'Your cock in her mouth and your tongue in her pussy!'

'Really?' I am taken completely by surprise and try to imagine such a thing happening. 'I am not at all sure I should like it,' I finally respond.

'Or just her doing it,' Tommo says.

'Just her?'

'Yes, sucking you, your cock in her mouth.'

'Oh,' is all I can think to say. This shocks me less than the idea of doing things to her with my tongue. 'What more should I know?' I ask softly, my heart pounding.

'Lots!' Tommo says. 'But I ain't telling you no more, you'll find out for yerself soon enough.'

We are both caught up in our own thoughts until Tommo breaks the silence.

'It's the softness,' he confides. 'Softness all over, and creaminess.' He has a faraway look in his eyes and a half-smile. It's a look I have not seen on his face before and it pleases me, for it contains none of the old bitterness. Perhaps it is the first sign of real happiness I have seen in him.

All the same, Tommo's description doesn't match the dreamy picture I've got in my imagination. My picture is a bit hazy, I suppose, and has the scent of roses about it, the rustle of crinoline dresses and someone very pretty standing on tip-toe so her ankles show. Her kiss is like a summer breeze touching my cheek.

And in my dreams, making love is something done politely, although I am not sure how. I know I would wish it to be most decent and allowing of every possible sensitivity. But exactly how to bring this about, I can't imagine. In my mind, it just happens and then is all over, beautiful and not spoken of, except with quiet looks.

Who would be the woman to let me love her so? As far as I can see, there are but two choices. At one end of the scale, there are the dockside whores, women damaged by life who would take a nigger the same as anyone else if he had the price. Then, at the other end of the scale, where I want to be, there is a prettiness pure as the driven snow. I don't rightly know what it would be like, loving all that purity, sort of like trying to touch a beautiful, perfumed ghost.

In the days following Chief Kingi's promise, I find myself looking at the Maori women, who are all most attractive. I can't help myself. I look at their lips. They have beautiful lips, soft and luscious, and I imagine them kissing me with their pink tongues inside my mouth and elsewhere too.

I try to put these thoughts from my mind. Nobody, I tell myself, is going to kiss a nigger that way, unless he pays extra for it with a whore. As Ikey always said, 'To brood over what you can't have be stupid, my dear.' On the other hand, he always added, 'But to believe you can't have something be even more stupid.' So I decide to keep the thought of it alive but tucked in the back of my mind, just in case Ikey is right.

*

It is my fourth sleepless night since my conversation with the chief, and the moon outside my hut is near full. The night is warm. Thoughts of softness and creaminess keep drifting about in my head, although I am tired and it is late. There is an owl hooting somewhere and soft laughter coming from one of the groups around the fires. I think of Tommo and Makareta, and how gentle Tommo is with her, though he does not say much. I think too about Chief Kingi and how I hope to teach him guerrilla warfare from the books I've read. He, a great warrior afraid of nothing, learn from me, who is afraid of a pop gun. I must be mad!

I must have fallen asleep, for I feel a stroking of my body. Soft hands glide across my chest and my belly. I am in a dream, a beautiful dream. I move. 'Hush.' It is a woman's soft voice. 'Do not open your eyes, Black Maori.'

I do as I am bid and feel a touching on my lips. A wonderful softness from her mouth seems to go through my whole body. My heart starts to thump, I can hear it: boom, boom, boom. Her hand moves down across my belly and her lips seem to melt over mine, opening my mouth. How this is done I cannot say, but there it is, the creaminess, as her tongue moves into my mouth and at the same time, her hand reaches me where I have grown hard.

I have already removed my coat and blouse the better to sleep, but now her hand works at my breeches, as her other takes my palm and places it on her breast. My fingers are hungry for her softness, and her nipples soon grow firm from my touch. I now lie naked inside my blanket. My eyes are still closed and I dare not open them for fear that I am dreaming.

The woman speaks to me, her voice soft but clear. 'Oh Black Maori, I have wanted you so very long. I have eaten you with my eyes and I have tasted you in my heart a thousand times. I have moaned for you alone in my blanket and my mouth has cried out to hold your manhood. My breasts have grown hard from longing for you and I have brought pleasure to myself in your name.'