IV

In Auckland affairs moved but slowly; with no money behind any enterprise, with sailor-men waiting in rough water-front taverns for their ships to fill with hides, tallow, and timber; with immigrants waiting for land and continually tragic or abusive according to their natures.

This country, the immigrants said, gave no increase save of customs duties, which were now its only revenue. page 140 So they sailed away in large numbers to the Australian and Californian gold-fields, and Maoris, who took a holiday if you spoke to them, wheeled the barrows of gunny-sacks and drove the patient red-and-white bullocks down the steep streets to the rickety wharf and the mud-flats still greasy in the sun and unconquered by the Harbour Board.

Yet for the gentlemen, so strangely favoured by St Paul, life had plenty of salt, with no end of regattas, pig-hunting, horse-racing, flirtations, and, on the night Jermyn returned from the South Island, a tremendous to-do at the Mechanic's Institute with all the members present.

Jermyn's work had preceded him in a quite outrageous letter to a Sydney paper, where, after praising the enterprise of Wellington, he had basely attacked Auckland, to this effect:

“Auckland, although a mere scatter of huts, sheds, tents, raupo whares, and lean weatherboard houses singularly unimpressive staggering alongside ill-kept streets, chooses to flaunt as a Town by erecting a tavern to every three miserable stores in Commercial Bay and baptising all with such Sounding names as Crown Hotel, Theatre Royal, the Law Courts, which though propping the gaol would fall without its support. In Official Bay the Governor has set up the horrid Pomp of autocracy so that his boots are kept clean by the lickings of his Toadies; the Colonial Office, and the Legislative Council, which, since the Governor holds two votes in a Council of four appointed by the Crown, is no more than a political rag to cover the nakedness of all concerned, are between them daily driving the country further on the Road to Ruin.”

There were few who were not hit, and the air in the dirty little room was very hostile. Peregrine, severely pricked by the jibe of toadying, opened with: “We have requested your presence here at the earliest available page 141 moment, Jermyn, in order that you may explain the meaning of these outrageous insults…..”

“My insults were never considered outrageous so long as they referred merely to the Governor,” retorted Jermyn. He looked older, thought Major Henry, uneasily, with new lines beneath those wide bright eyes, that were almost glittering gold to-night. Still hag-ridden, thought the Major, cursing the hag, whoever she might be. Peregrine said majestically:

“With the country in its present state, it is sheer suicide not to uphold the Government.”

“Assuredly it cannot uphold itself.”

“Ah … so long as we all stand shoulder to shoulder, our difficulties will adjust themselves,” declared Peregrine, wishing he could believe it.

“What infant's hornbook did you find that in?”

Gentlemen permitted interest to replace the glare in their eyes. Jermyn's tone was more than offensive. A personal matter, eh? Bad blood between Lovels? Major Henry plunged in hastily with:

“Stand together, of course…. So many different standards … damned conflictin'….”

“There is only one real standard of right, Major,” said Peregrine, very black and haughty.

“Yours, naturally,” said Jermyn. He brushed his hand over his wet forehead. Until he saw Peregrine again he had not known how he wanted to kill him. And when he saw Sally again…. God Almighty, what was he going to do then?

Gentlemen were excited, if a little nervous. This was vastly unpleasant—but which would hit first? Was it possible that they were going to see Peregrine Lovel knocked out of his Jovian calm at last? His pinched nostrils were getting white, and Jermyn was like a wildcat with those big glittering eyes and his thick hair all over the place.

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“If England would understand …” began Mr Seager, offering her as a sop to the gentlemen who wouldn't have her. England, they felt, had no wish to understand. But this attack on their own town … on Auckland….

There was a howl from old Sir Winston, who never took any notice of the young fellers, hang 'em. He had just discovered for himself what was the matter with Auckland and every other place, and he proceeded to expound it with a scatter of quotations, thumping his green umbrella on the dingy boards until his hat fell off and his yellow wig slid over his ear.

How, he demanded, could we expect to build England's pleasant land on a public debt that was assuming simply colossal proportions since the man Wellington had handed over the bankrupt New Zealand Company to the Imperial Government, which was wanting Auckland to foot the really staggering bills? How, with the caitiff Wellington continuing to beget bastard settlements all over the place, could we expect God to save the Queen or anyone else? Blessed be he who expecteth nothing for Doodlum Buck was all he'd get.

“Who, gentlemen … who, I say, is the ravening wolf coming down like the Assyrian on our fold? Grey! Who's the one-eyed Cyclops who can never see any but himself … and that squinting? Grey! Gentlemen …I put it to the vote. Grey!” Sir Winston shouted it, quite out of breath, grabbing his wig as it covered him up like a mask.

Conscious of a slight disappointment, the gentlemen genteelly cushioned impending trouble by voting Grey responsible for everything. They voted him responsible for Auckland's bankruptcy, and for the settlement in 1849 of Dunedin, at the far end of the South Island, although this was so near the South Pole that only such a body of stoics as the Free Church of Scotland would have fathered the adventure. They voted him responsible for the four ships bringing the Canterbury Pilgrims at the page 143 end of 1850 under the blessing of the Church of England….

“Church! Church! Don't every scurvy malefactor hide under the skirts of the Church?” bellowed Sir Winston, who disapproved of the way Bishop Selwyn and Judge Martin stood together with Grey for the Maoris.

Major Henry, whom Peregrine had sent to the South Island to buy land when the first Canterbury lots were put up, hastened to assure the company that so many unchurched Australians had followed the Pilgrims over the Port Hills from Lyttelton and settled like flies on the flanks of the infant speculation that it was fast becoming quite secular and very abusive among its marshes and howling nor'westers.

Yet in time we might be glad of Canterbury, declared the Major, hoping that Jermyn had gone, but what with smoking oil-lamps and smoking gentlemen how could one be sure? If gentlemen realized the placidity of the Canterbury Maoris, of whom there were so very few; the courage of enterprising colonists driving sheep and cattle into wildernesses of stony river-beds, level horizons of yellow tussock, long ranges succulent with snowgrass, and frequently finding colonists still more enterprising already established and building huge stations for their fattening flocks….

But the gentlemen refused to be glad of Canterbury, which sounded like a chimera, since all the New Zealand they knew appeared to be on edge, both morally and geographically; and Peregrine was very acid about Dunedin, which was already at ship-building, so that southern whalers were bound to make it their landfall, to the great detriment of Auckland. In fact, Auckland had become Cinderella, and with only Grey for a fairy godmother New Zealand's fate was sealed. Peregrine, who had been considerably rattled by Jermyn, foresaw England turning such a discomfortable and luckless country over to France page 144 or anyone else who would take her; and then Major Henry, heartened by seeing Jermyn flinging out of the room with his hat on the back of his head, had the most brilliant inspiration of his life.

“I protest,” he cried, getting up on a chair with some difficulty, “against such pusillanimity. Even Nature herself bows to the onslaught of man when rightly directed. Australia has discovered gold in her bowels. Why cannot we? How do we know that at this very moment New Zealand is not secreting beneath our feet riches beyond the wealth of Araby?”

After such a flight he mopped his forehead, while everyone made surprised and enthusiastic noises, looking to Peregrine for a lead. Feeling the tribute, he kept them waiting like a god in a frock-coat, saying at last: “I suggest that a reward be offered for the discovery of gold. It must be large enough to attract enterprise. I am willing to put down one hundred pounds as a nucleus to form a private company.”

Here, one felt, was the real Mr Peregrine Lovel of Lovel Hall. None other could offer half as much. Grey would be shut out and, should paying gold be found, the company—with Peregrine clearly headed for managing director—would be in a position to dictate terms to a bankrupt Government.

Damn it, muttered Major Henry, I can't like the fellow but I have to respect him. Yet so few things have to be respected, he thought, cheering up as everyone rushed to subscribe, and broke the remaining chairs during subsequent demonstrations, which they conducted as though gold was already in their pockets.

Jermyn was sitting with stretched legs and chin on his chest among the wolfhounds when the Major got home. He did not speak, so the Major ventured: “We had an interesting meetin', boy.”

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“Our Peregrine dressed in a little brief authority,” said Jermyn.

So Jermyn wasn't in the mood for that disclosure. The Major tried again: “See many charmin' ladies on your travels?”

“Plenty. Blowsy females with blown skirts showing weakly-gartered stockings.”

The Major went to bed.