In the Land of the Long White Cloud

unanswered.
    Gwyneira finally said a heartfelt good-bye to Elizabeth—after giving her the usual shopping list that every woman in New Zealand foisted on friends traveling back to the homeland. One could order practically anything for sale in London through George’s company, but there were a few intimate items that women did not like to entrust to messengers. Elizabeth promised to clean out the London merchants on Gwyneira’s behalf, and Gwyneira left in high spirits—however, still without a solution for Fleurette.

    Over the course of the next few months, the situation on Kiward Station settled down. Gerald’s attack on Fleur had sobered him upconsiderably. He avoided his granddaughter—and Gwyneira made sure that Fleurette kept it that way. In the meantime, the old man redoubled his efforts to introduce Paul to the family business. The two of them often disappeared early in the morning out to the pastures somewhere and didn’t return until evening. After that, Gerald indulged in his evening whiskey, but he never reached the level of intoxication that he had before, during his all-day drinking binges. Following his grandfather’s advice, Paul had begun throwing his weight around, about which Kiri and Marama expressed concern. Gwyneira overheard a conversation between her son and Marama that quite troubled her.
    “Wiramu is not a bad fellow, Paul! He’s hard working, a good hunter, and a good shepherd. It’s not right, you firing him!”
    Marama was cleaning the silver in the garden. Unlike her mother, she enjoyed this particular task; she loved the gleaming metal. Sometimes she sang while she worked, but Gerald could not stand Maori music. Gwyneira felt similarly, but only because it reminded her of the drumming on that fateful night. She liked Marama’s ballads, sung in that sweet voice, and surprisingly, even Paul seemed to enjoy them. Today, however, he was eager to gloat about his excursion with Gerald the day before. The two of them had been checking on the pastures in the foothills when they had come upon the Maori boy, Wiramu. Wiramu was taking the prizes of a successful fishing trip back to his tribe on Kiward Station. That in itself was no reason to punish him, but the boy belonged to one of the shepherd patrols Gerald had recently instituted to put an end to James McKenzie’s activities. Hence, Wiramu was supposed to be in the highlands, not visiting his mother in the village. Gerald had thrown a fit and given the boy a dressing down. After that he had let Paul decide on the severity of his punishment. Paul had decided to let Wiramu go, effective immediately.
    “Grandfather’s not paying him to fish,” Paul explained gravely. “He needs to stay at his post.”
    Marama shook her head. “But I think the patrols move around anyway. It doesn’t really matter where Wiramu is at any given moment.And all the men fish. They have to hunt and fish. Or are you supplying them with provisions now?”
    “Certainly it matters!” Paul crowed. “McKenzie isn’t stealing our sheep here near the house; he’s doing it up in the highlands. That’s where the men need to patrol. And yes, they can hunt and fish for their own needs. But not for the whole village.” The boy was adamant that he was in the right.
    “That’s not what they’re doing!” Marama was not ready to let it go. She made a desperate effort to make her people’s perspective clear to him; she could not comprehend why that should prove so difficult. After all, Paul had practically grown up with the Maori. So how was it possible that he had learned nothing except how to hunt and fish? “They just discovered the land around there. No one had ever fished there; their weirs were full. They couldn’t eat all that fish right away, nor could they dry it—after all, they were supposed to be patrolling. If someone had not run to the village, the fish would have gone to waste. And that would be a shame, Paul; you know that. You don’t let any food go to waste; the gods don’t like it!”
    The primarily Maori patrol had asked Wiramu to take the fish to the village and tell the elders about the enormous wealth of fish in the newly discovered waters. The surrounding area too should be fertile and quite rich in prey to hunt. It was possible that the tribe would soon set out to spend some time fishing and hunting there. That would have been desirable for Kiward Station, as no one would steal livestock in the area around the camp if the Maori