The Silent Frontier (15 page)

Lachlan walked back to the detail and picked up his axe. Not one of the men said a word.

THIRTEEN

P
rivate Lachlan MacDonald stood to attention, a cool breeze whipping scudding clouds overhead. Beside him he gripped the barrel of his new .537 Terry carbine and at his right hip was a holstered .44 five-shot Deane-Adams revolver. On the opposite hip in its sheath was a finely honed Bowie knife, and on his head a pill-box cap with the badge of the Forest Rangers. His blue jacket was crossed with leather straps to hold the haversack mounted high on his shoulders. He wore knee-length boots, which actually fitted, as Michael Duffy had friends in the Quartermaster’s office where uniform was issued.

The Forest Rangers were the eyes of the army, scouting for enemy positions, ambushing Maori war parties and protecting vulnerable supply lines from attack. Many of the regular British officer staff referred to the Rangers as colonial scum, considering them ill-disciplined, even if they
were invaluable in this war which was being fought deep in the thickets of the New Zealand bush.

Captain Gustavus Ferdinand von Tempsky personally reviewed his company and Lachlan was impressed by his new commander. He was a tall, well-built former Prussian regular soldier who had fought in the guerrilla war against the Spanish army in Nicaragua, before coming to New Zealand to dig for gold. He was also an excellent artist and author who had travelled the world in his search for adventure. He had dark hair almost to his shoulders and a neatly kept moustache curling to the edge of his mouth. Lachlan could see how the handsome man might make women swoon but he was also popular with his men. They would have followed him into hell had he asked it of them.

Lachlan had seen an increase in pay since transferring to the Von’s company. He was now being paid three shillings and sixpence per day and also was entitled to a double issue of rum. The camaraderie amongst the men also impressed him. It had not been easy to transfer but Lachlan had come to learn that there was a special bond between Michael Duffy and the Von.

‘The natives call Von Tempsky
manu-rau,’
a Pakeha soldier had told Lachlan when he first arrived at the company. ‘It means
many birds,
as the Maori say he is everywhere in the bush.’ The soldier had lived for some time amongst the Maori people and was known as a
Pakeha Maori.
But he was just the kind of man the Von sought for his company of rangers; he knew the bush and he knew the Maori they now fought.

Lachlan instantly felt at home with his new comrades but his pleasure was tempered when he heard that his old friend Andrew Hume had been discharged from the militia because
of his severe head injury. Lachlan might have saved his life, but Andrew was now prone to fits. The blow had done its damage and Lachlan had bid his friend a farewell before leaving the militia to join the Rangers. As far as Lachlan knew now, Andrew would return to the Australian colonies and travel on to Queensland to resume his life as a surveyor. He had been discharged with honourable mentions and would be employed by the new Queensland government for the service he had rendered in uniform for the Queen.

The parade was over and the Rangers dismissed to their quarters. ‘Ranger MacDonald,’ Michael Duffy called to Lachlan. ‘Report to me.’

Lachlan shouldered his carbine and marched smartly to where Michael was standing alone on the parade ground.

‘How are you settling in?’ Michael asked warmly.

‘I don’t know how to thank you,’ Lachlan replied. ‘This is a lot better than being in Lightfoot’s command.’

‘You might not be thanking me in the next few weeks,’ Michael grinned. ‘We have orders to go bush again in the next few days. That will mean a lot of wet, sleepless nights stalking the Maori in his own territory. It is not like the militia where you return to a warm and dry stockade each night.’

‘I don’t mind,’ Lachlan replied. ‘I feel that what is ahead will prepare me for the life of an explorer when I eventually return to Australia.’

Michael shook his head. ‘You have to survive this war first,’ he chuckled. ‘But I have to give you marks for your enthusiasm. Well, it is time to get some rest and hot food. So, join the men.’

Lachlan left Duffy, known to all as Sergeant Michael O’Flynn. When Lachlan felt self-pity for his own situation he only had to remind himself that Michael had lost much
more than a woman in his life. He had lost his whole family and any hope of returning to Australia without fear of arrest on the false charge of murder.

‘It was brought to my attention only today that you were seen to be acting in a somewhat common way with Private MacDonald some three weeks ago,’ Charles Lightfoot ranted at his sister in the privacy of his cottage.

‘I kissed him,’ Amanda replied mildly. ‘It was simply a sign of affection for the courage you told me he displayed.’ She sat in her usual chair with her embroidery before the open fire.

‘Is that all it was?’ Lightfoot questioned, only partially satisfied with his sister’s explanation. ‘If I thought that he had forced himself on you I ‘would have him immediately arrested and flogged to within an inch of his life.’

‘No, dear brother,’ Amanda frowned. ‘It was I who delivered the token of my respect for his sterling service to the Queen,’ Amanda persisted. ‘If you have him arrested I promise that you will never see me again.’

‘You sound as if you may be more than fond of the man,’ Lightfoot said suspiciously.

‘I am eighteen, old enough to know my own feelings,’ Amanda said. ‘It was nothing more than affection.’

‘I will accept your word on the matter,’ Lightfoot concluded but he now regretted allowing MacDonald to transfer to the Rangers. If he still had him in his command he was sure that Sergeant Samuel Forster would have some devious means of having the man put under arrest and suffer a spell in prison. Locked away, he would no longer be able to see Amanda. At least he could console himself that the life of a Forest Ranger was fraught with much danger and that the Maori warriors might just dispose of MacDonald once and
for all. He could not afford his sister to fall in love with a commoner – when he had visions of marrying her off to Sir Percival Sparkes.

The ship dipped and rose in the heavy swells of the Tasman Sea. John had decided he would get some fresh air in an attempt to ward off seasickness and stood at the bow, gripping the rails. The steamer chugged and puffed to fight the seas in the night while the wind moaned in the rigging.

‘I thought I would find you here,’ Nicholas said, making his way carefully along the deck to grip the rails beside John.

‘I needed the air and a chance to think,’ John replied, staring into the darkness where horizon and sea met.

‘Are you still worried about your brother’s reaction if you find him?’ Nicholas asked.

‘That, and what I can do to fulfil my promise,’ John said. ‘If this Captain Lightfoot is one and the same as the man who murdered my father and brother, robbing my father at the same time, I do not know how I will exact revenge.’

‘There are many forms of punishment,’ Nicholas said. ‘One does not have to kill one’s enemy to punish him.’

John turned to glance at Nicholas, who was also staring out to sea. ‘Possibly you could explain,’ he said.

‘Well, I doubt that you are acquainted with the use of duelling weapons, so you have to use some other means to inflict the vengeance your Gaelic blood cries out for. Find a weakness in your enemy – and exploit it.’

‘Your explanation is still couched in vague terms,’ John continued.

‘For example,’ Nicholas said, ‘you are now a man of considerable means and that brings power. It has always been my
experience that a man’s greatest weakness is the woman in his life or his financial interests. Taking either one has the possibility of destroying him.’

John laughed. ‘I doubt that I might take any woman from Lightfoot,’ he said, ‘considering who I am.’

‘Then it must be his wealth,’ Nicholas said. ‘Destroy him financially and watch him rot in poverty.’

John liked the idea of seeing the man who had murdered his father and brother in dire financial circumstances. But how could that be achieved? he pondered. As if to answer his unspoken question, Nicholas spoke.

‘Lightfoot does not know of my connection to you,’ he said. ‘I think when we arrive I should set up circumstances to befriend your enemy, gain his trust and let our combined power destroy him.’

‘How will you do that?’ John asked, his respect for the man in his life heightened by the way he was able to plot such schemes. He had witnessed how shrewd Nicholas had been in dealing with people in their business and had no doubt that he was capable of carrying out his plan – whatever it might be.

‘You must trust me,’ Nicholas said. ‘Our contracts with the army in New Zealand mean I have contact with some very important people, both in the army commissariat and the government. No doubt I will be able to use them to get to Captain Lightfoot. Now, I think it is time that we joined the captain’s table for a hand of cards. I am feeling lucky tonight.’

It was Lachlan who was first alerted to the extreme danger Michael Duffy might be in. He had been sitting with his new comrades from the Rangers outside their tents, smoking pipes, chatting and playing cards. They had been preparing
for an operation into the dark forests of the Maori-held territory to seek out enemy positions and now they had some time off to relax.

A new recruit to the Rangers sat near Lachlan, puffing on a pipe and staring hard at Michael Duffy standing a distance away conversing with Von Tempsky.

‘I know that man,’ he said to the soldier beside him. ‘He used to fight in Sydney.’

Lachlan froze when he overheard the comment. ‘But he wasn’t O’Flynn then,’ the new soldier continued. ‘His name was Michael Duffy and he was wanted by the Sydney traps for murder. Last I heard when I left Sydney was that he was still wanted for the murder and there was a reward for his arrest.’

Lachlan did not know how to react. Should he scoff at the new man’s suggestion or simply ignore it, hoping that none of the others around them had taken any notice.

‘I doubt that Sergeant O’Flynn is this man Duffy you are talking about,’ the corporal with them said. ‘He is a bloody good soldier and a good man. I’d say you got it wrong and if you know what is good for you, you will not go about making such accusations again.’ The new man’s statement had been met with some hostility from the rest of his comrades as well and Lachlan realised just how much respect the men had for Michael. He decided to wait until he could speak to Michael alone later that day and at last came across him beside the cookhouse where the army butchers had a carcass hanging on a hook from a tree.

‘Michael,’ Lachlan said when he had caught the Irishman’s attention, ‘a new man to the company has recognised you,’ he said.

Michael sucked in his breath and frowned. ‘It has always been something I knew would catch up with me,’ he replied. ‘New Zealand is too close to Sydney.’

‘What are you going to do?’ Lachlan asked.

‘I have wondered that myself,’ Michael replied, casting around him to ensure they could not be overheard. ‘The Von knows who I am, and about the situation in Sydney. I think it is time that I moved on.’

‘No doubt easier said than done,’ Lachlan offered, surprised that their commander knew about Michael’s real identity. ‘Especially since we go bush tomorrow morning.’

‘I will have a word to the Von,’ Michael said. ‘It is time to disappear.’

‘If I can help,’ Lachlan said, offering his hand, ‘all you have to do is ask.’

‘I thank you, Lachlan MacDonald,’ Michael responded. ‘We will see.’

John and Nicholas arrived in the port of Auckland and could immediately see the signs of war. All around them in the streets of the large town were red-coated soldiers, wagons full of war supplies and even Maori auxiliaries dressed in the uniform of the British army.

Nicholas had been astute enough to arrange accommodation for them before they left Sydney. Such arrangements were vital in a town now crowded with farmers and families from the edges of the frontier, parts of which were controlled by the hostile Maori forces.

Although not fancy, the hotel’s accommodation was comfortable and the food relatively good. John and Nicholas took separate rooms and settled in. When they were established, Nicholas went in search of men who until now had been simply names on contracts and invoices. His first contact was a captain from the commissariat supplying the army.

For John, his first contact was the British army
headquarters to try to locate his brother. He was fortunate that a roll of all men enlisted for pay purposes was kept. It was not long before a clerk ran his finger down a roll of the Waikato militia to find Private Lachlan MacDonald, enlisted from Sydney.

‘Last known posting was at Drury in Captain Lightfoot’s company,’ the clerk said. ‘But our rolls take time to be amended in the event of transfers.’

John thanked the man and returned to the hotel.

‘Lachlan is definitely a soldier in Lightfoot’s command,’ John said glumly.

‘How convenient, you get to find your brother and meet your enemy all at the same time,’ Nicholas responded with a faint smile.

‘It is a queer coincidence,’ John replied. ‘I do not feel easy about the matter of Lachlan being in the command of the man who murdered our father and brother.’

‘It might be wiser if I went to Drury to seek out your brother, in that case,’ Nicholas said. ‘It would not help my plans to have Charles Lightfoot meet with the man ultimately to be responsible for his downfall.’

John agreed.

‘I will make arrangements to travel to Drury tomorrow,’ Nicholas continued. ‘In the meantime, you could use the time to visit some influential people I have met over here and seek out any possible ventures that we may turn a pretty penny on. War always has a market for items we take for granted.’

Lachlan pulled the greatcoat around his body in a vain attempt to keep from soaking to the skin. At least its bulk provided some warmth against the biting wind that whipped
through the dank ferns. He kept his rifle covered to avoid moisture dampening the paper cartridges and his finger remained not far from the trigger as he sat peering into the gathering darkness of the coming night.