In the Land of the Long White Cloud

in check. She was happy to let the older girls listen to the music and watch the dancing for an hour before bed. Dorothy was always demurely ready to turn in for the night, but Daphne found excuses or even tried to sneak out later when she falsely believed Helen was sleeping.
    On the upper deck the social activities unfolded in a more cultivated fashion. Concerts and deck games were held, and the evening meals were now celebrated festively in the dining room. Gerald Warden and Gwyneira shared a table with a London couple whose younger son was stationed in a garrison in Christchurch and who was now playing with the idea of settling there permanently. He had asked his father to grant him an advance on his inheritance. In response, Mr. and Mrs. Brewster—spry, resolute people in their fifties—had promptly booked their trip to New Zealand. Before he emptied his pockets, Mr. Brewster explained, he wanted to take a look at the area and—even more than that—his future daughter-in-law.
    “She’s half Maori, Peter writes,” Mrs. Brewster said uncertainly. “And she’s supposed to be as beautiful as one of those South Sea girls whose picture you sometimes see. But I don’t know, a native…”
    “That can be very helpful for the acquisition of land,” Gerald remarked. “An acquaintance of mine once received a chief’s daughter as a present—and twenty-five acres of the best pastureland to boot. My friend fell in love at once.” Gerald winked meaningfully.
    Mr. Brewster boomed with laughter while Gwyneira and Mrs. Brewster smiled reluctantly.
    “Might even be his daughter, your son’s lady friend,” Gerald considered further. “She would have to be about fifteen now, a suitable marrying age for the natives. And many of the mixed children are stunning. The pureblooded Maori, on the other hand…well, they’renot to my taste. Too short, too stocky, and there are the tattoos…but to each his own. There’s no accounting for taste.”
    From the Brewsters’ questions and Gerald’s answers, Gwyneira began to learn more about her future homeland. Up until then, the sheep baron had primarily spoken of the economic opportunities of breeding and pastureland in the Canterbury Plains, but now, for the first time, she learned that New Zealand consisted of two big islands and that Christchurch and the Canterbury Plains were situated on the South Island. She heard about mountains and fjords but also about a jungle-like rainforest, whaling stations, and gold rushes. Gwyneira remembered that Lucas was supposed to be researching the country’s flora and fauna and replaced her daydreams of plowing and sowing at her husband’s side with an even more exciting fantasy of expeditions into the islands’ unexplored reaches.
    At some point the Brewsters’ curiosity was satisfied and Gerald had exhausted his cache of stories. Warden clearly knew New Zealand well, but animals and landscapes interested him only as economic ciphers. It seemed that this was also the case for the Brewster family. They cared only that the area was safe and that a possible business venture would pay off. As they discussed these questions, various merchants and farmers were mentioned. Gwyneira took the opportunity to put the plan she’d long nourished into effect and asked innocuously about a “gentleman farmer” by the name of O’Keefe.
    “Maybe you know him, then. He’s supposed to live somewhere in the Canterbury Plains.”
    Gerald Warden’s reaction surprised her. Her future father-in-law turned red, and his eyes seemed to leap out of their sockets in agitation.
    “O’Keefe? Gentleman farmer?” Gerald skewered each word and snorted, flaring his nostrils. “I know a scoundrel and cutthroat by the name of O’Keefe,” he rumbled on. “Scum that should be sent back to Ireland as quickly as possible. Or to Australia, to the penal colonies; that’s where he comes from, you know. Gentleman farmer! That’s not even funny. Out with it, Gwyneira, where did you hear that name?”
    Gwyneira raised a supplicating hand, and Mr. Brewster hurried to refill Gerald’s glass with whiskey. He clearly hoped it would have acalming effect, as Mrs. Brewster had cringed when Warden exploded with rage.
    “I’m sure I have a different O’Keefe in mind,” Gwyneira said quickly. “A young woman in steerage, a governess, is engaged to him. She said he belonged to the notables of Christchurch.”
    “Oh?” Gerald asked leerily. “Strange that he should