In the Land of the Long White Cloud

and frolicked about and were subdued only with great effort in order to join the other survivors in saying a prayer of thanksgiving. Only Daphne still seemed disappointed. The few houses hemming the Bay of Lyttelton did not meet her expectations for a town.
    Helen had already commissioned the transportation of the rocking chair by ferry. Now, her travel bag in one hand and her parasol over her shoulder, she sauntered up the wide access path leading up to the first houses. The girls followed her obediently with their bundles. Thus far they found the climb demanding, but not dangerous or unreasonably difficult. If it did not get any worse, they could still conquer the road to Christchurch. For the time being, however, they found themselves in the center of the Lyttelton settlement. There was a pub, a general store, and a questionable-looking hotel. But that was there only for the benefit of the rich. The steerage passengers who did not want to leave straight for Christchurch could spend the night here in primitive barracks or tents, and many of the new settlers chose this option. A few of them had relatives in Christchurch and had arranged for them to send mules as soon as the
Dublin
had arrived.
    Helen entertained a quiet hope when she saw the transport company’s mules waiting in front of the pub. True, Howard did not yet know of her arrival, but the vicar of Christchurch, Reverend Baldwin,had been informed that the six orphan girls would arrive on the
Dublin
. Perhaps he had arranged transportation for the rest of their journey. Helen asked the mule drivers, but they had not received any instructions to that effect. Though they were supposed to pick up supplies for Reverend Baldwin, and they had been notified of the Brewsters’ arrival, the pastor had not mentioned the girls.
    “All right, girls, there’s nothing left for us but to walk,” Helen said, finally accepting her fate. “And we’d better get started so we can put it behind us.”
    The tents and barracks that were their only alternative struck Helen as rather shady. Naturally, men and women slept separately, but there were no locks on the doors, and there was no doubt an equal dearth of women in Lyttelton as in Christchurch. Who knew what would get into men’s heads when seven women and girls without a chaperone served themselves up on a silver platter?
    So Helen set out with a number of the other immigrant families who likewise wanted to continue on to Christchurch without delay. The O’Haras were among them, and Jamie gallantly offered to shoulder Elizabeth’s things as well as his own. His mother, however, strictly forbade this, as the O’Haras were transporting all of their household supplies over the mountains, and everyone already had more than enough to carry. As the practical woman saw it, in such cases courtesy was a luxury they could not afford.
    After the first few miles, Jamie might have come to the same conclusion himself. The fog had lifted, as Gerald had predicted, and now the Bridle Path basked in the warm spring sunshine. The immigrants still found the heat incomprehensible. Back home in England, they would have been facing the first autumn storms, while here in New Zealand the grass was just beginning to sprout and the sun to climb higher. Though the temperature was quite pleasant, the travelers soon broke into a sweat on the long ascent, especially since many of them wore several layers of clothing in order to have less to carry. Even the men were soon out of breath. Three indolent months at sea had robbed even the strongest laborer of his strength. Yet the path grew not onlysteeper but more treacherous. The girls cried in fear as they clambered along a crater’s lip. Mary and Laurie clung so tightly to one another that they actually put themselves in greater danger of falling. Rosemary held onto the edge of Helen’s skirt and buried her head in the folds of her traveling outfit when the trail was too frightening. Helen had long since closed her parasol. She needed it as a walking stick, and she no longer had the energy to carry it properly over her shoulder. She couldn’t have cared less about looking after her pale skin that day.
    After an hour, the travelers were tired and thirsty and had put only two miles behind them.
    “Up there on the mountain, they sell refreshments,” Jamie comforted the girls. “At least that’s what they said in Lyttelton. And there’s supposed to be hostels that offer a nice sit-down along