As Kelly took on responsibility for the work, he necessarily learned the true nature of the business, which was that Quinn was employed by one James Dilworth, a wealthy farmer, businessman, and banker. Dilworth held commissariat contracts for the provisions of the British Imperial Army in New Zealand and Quinn was a subcontractor, which allowed him to pursue other business interests like the importation and sale of liquor. Kelly recalled meeting the middle-aged, lanky Irishman with the gruff manner when Quinn introduced him as a business associate while they were picking up a shipment of goods at the dock and he never gave the man a second thought till he discovered he was working contracts for him.
The business thrived under Kelly’s management and much of his time was spent travelling and making deliveries. But disaster struck at home. On returning from a trip to Alexandra he arrived back in Auckland to find the Quinn home completely destroyed by fire. By the time the volunteer fire brigade arrived the house was well ablaze and the fire fighters expended the store of water on their cart to stop the fire from spreading to the stables and storage shed. The kauri house was razed to the ground and Quinn had perished in the flames.
Kelly made arrangements with Reverend Heywood for Quinn’s funeral and rode to Peria to inform Ᾱwhina. He found, to his dismay that the village still lay in ruins, and a remnant of Ngāti Hauā were rebuilding some dwellings. One, an elderly man spoke to him in Māori and a boy was able to tell him many of their iwi had gone to join Te Ua Haumēne and his Pai Mārire. Ᾱwhina? She has gone to Tokangamutu (Te Kuiti) to join Tāwhiao in the Rohe Pōtae. Kelly would have continued on to the King Country, despite the dangers of crossing the aukati into the hostile territory, but that was a longer journey and the time for the funeral would have passed.
Instead, he returned to Auckland in time for the interment of Quinn’s charred remains in the cemetery of Saint Mark’s Church. Many of Quinn’s friends and business associates were at the funeral. Dilworth was there with his young wife, whom he introduced as Isabella, and he invited Kelly back to their home after the service. Kelly was happy to accept a ride in their carriage to the Dilworth estate in Remuera, at the foot of Mount Hobson, to the grandest house he had ever entered. Such a large house, Kelly observed, for just two people, as there were no children. Isabella served tea in the drawing room and left the men to discuss business. So it was to be a business meeting and Mr Dilworth did not take long to get down to business after a few pleasantries and condolences about poor old Quinn.
Dilworth was an Irish immigrant from County Tyrone and always happy to do business with fellow Ulster men, like Quinn and Kelly, and while he had always been very fond of Quinn, he was aware of his recent circumstances and his decline. “Liquor never did anyone any good,” Dilworth said, though he conceded it did make Quinn a lot of money. He said he was also well aware that Kelly had been running the business and Quinn had been fortunate to have him in his employ.
“Business is not just about money and goods,” said Dilworth. “It’s about people and in business I’ve learned to be a good judge of character. It is my observation, Master Kelly, that you are a young man of ability, integrity and ambition.”
“Thank you, sir,” Kelly managed to reply. “It is my ambition to make a go of it here in Auckland and become a family man when my fiancée can join me here.”
“Ah yes,” said Dilworth, “Quinn told me of your plans. You should soon be able to send for the young lady as you’ll now be paid for contracts, not for wages, if you’re willing to stay on in the business, and I’m willing to pay you a retainer if you’ll agree to manage a warehouse for me. You may have seen the building under construction now in Customs Street.”
Kelly was very happy to accept Dilworth’s offer and assured him he had every intention of continuing in the business, but first he had to attend to another matter. He still needed to find Ᾱwhina and inform her of Quinn’s death. Dilworth agreed that Kelly was the man for that mission. He shook his hand to seal the business agreement and wished him well for the journey to the King Country.
Kelly returned to his makeshift home in the storage shed and immediately penned a letter to Annie and took it up Shortland Crescent to the post office on Princes Street.
Dearest Annie
Much has happened since I last wrote. I am well, but saddened by the loss of poor old Quinn. He died in a fire that destroyed the house. Only he was at home. Ᾱwhina and Rāwiri had gone away and I was away on business. However, now it seems I have a new employer, another Ulster man, who has made his fortune in New Zealand, though I think he already had family money. I am sure I have greater prospects here than I would ever have back home. I am not dreaming of becoming rich, but dreaming of making a life here together with you. I will soon have money enough for your passage to New Zealand and a home for us here. Please say you are ready to come.
With all my love,
Finbar
Kelly rode south through the Waikato into Ngāti Maniapoto territory, across the aukati.
At Te Kuiti he dismounted and approached a group tending a large garden. Here he was accosted by two tattooed warriors, one of whom he recognised immediately as Ᾱwhina’s brother.
“You remember seeing me in Auckland,” Hamana said, “but you don’t remember seeing me at Rangiriri. I remember seeing you there, in your red coat, carrying your musket. With the musket a slave can kill a chief. Different when it’s hand to hand.”
With that he thrust his taiaha into Kelly’s hands and took up that of his companion. He then postured and grimaced, hopped from one foot to the other, deftly twirling the fighting staff and made whooping and yelping noises. He struck Kelly a stinging blow to the side of the head. Kelly parried the next strike and then took a blow to the thigh. He managed one or two blows himself but he was no match for the skill of the warrior. Hamana raised his taiaha above his head to strike a blow and Kelly struck him on the forehead with the butt of his taiaha, as he would with the stock of a rifle. Hamana fell onto his back and sprang back to his feet, stung by the humiliation of being struck down by a Pākehā with a taiaha. He attacked with a flurry of blows, high if Kelly defended his legs and low if he defended his head, to the same thigh until the muscle spasm crippled the whole leg. A thrust of his taiaha struck Kelly in the groin, tearing the crotch of his trousers. A swiping blow struck the side of his head and he fell to the ground. Hamana pinned him down with the point of the taiaha against his throat and said, “Now you are my slave.”
“Then you’d better finish me,” said Kelly, “for I will be no man’s slave.”
“A good answer,” said Hamana, retrieving his taiaha and he walked off with his fellow warrior, laughing scornfully.
Kelly lay on the ground bruised and grazed but the worst of his injuries were a gash on his thigh and a torn scrotum, and blood was soaking his trousers. Ᾱwhina rushed to his side and was joined by Rāwiri and two other women, one of whom he recognised as Ᾱwhina’s sister, Pania. “Ᾱwhina, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” Kelly declared, with a weak smile that was more of a wince.
Ᾱwhina and Rāwiri helped Kelly to his feet and to Ᾱwhina’s whare, where she tended to his wounds. She stitched the tear in his groin and applied a poultice to the wound to prevent infection. Kelly felt exposed and vulnerable but appreciative of Ᾱwhina’s ministrations. Her gentle touch might have aroused feelings of a different nature in different circumstances.
“You look well, Ᾱwhina,” Kelly said, “but you’ve lost weight I think.”
“I’m sorry this has happened to you,” Ᾱwhina said, “but why have you come here?”
Kelly broke the news to her of Quinn’s death.
“Aue! Kua mate toku tāne rangatira,” she lamented. “He should have had a tangi.”
“At least he had a decent Pākehā funeral,” Kelly said.
Rāwiri hugged his mother and said, “I should have stayed.”
Ᾱwhina introduced her other companion as Te Paea Tiaho, Tāwhiao’s sister. She explained that she was serving as interpreter for Tāwhiao and helping him compose petitions to Parliament and to the Queen. “The government has confiscated our Waikato land and the Native Land Court is stealing more, ever closer to our King Country. The Queen says she cannot force our government to honour the Treaty and we have to deal with the Government ourselves. But we get no justice from Governor Grey and Minister McLean.”
*
Kelly saw King Tāwhiao himself during his brief stay at Te Kuiti. He certainly had a striking visage with his full face tā moko, not just inked into the skin but carved and contoured into his face. He was a man of quite short stature but still had a regal bearing, though his mana was rather diminished when he indulged his fondness for alcoholic beverages.
Ᾱwhina proposed that Kelly buy the section of land in Auckland if he wished to stay there and rebuild. The community supporting the king in Te Kuiti were hard pressed for resources and she wished to contribute the proceeds of what was now her land to her new whānau, to ensure their survival and fund political action. Kelly gave her twenty pounds on the spot and promised another eighty for the purchase, which Ᾱwhina thought quite acceptable. She gave him his trousers, stitched and washed, and said, “You should leave here as soon as you are fit to travel. I cannot go with you. I’m needed here. But Pania can go. She is a healer and will take care of you.”
“I’m sure I’ll be all right now thanks to your first aid,” Kelly assured her, but I’m not up to riding again just yet.”
“We have a wagon you can take, you and Pania,” Ᾱwhina said.
“Our family should do this for you because of what our brother has done,” Pania insisted.
“Besides, my home is not much more than a shed at the moment,” Kelly said.
“You’ve seen how we are living here,” Ᾱwhina replied.
“I’ll return the wagon with Pania and goods for the whānau,” Kelly promised.
Ᾱwhina began each day with a dawn prayer meeting, attended by most of her whānau, and by Kelly on the day of his departure. She prayed a blessing over Kelly and concluded the meeting with a New Testament benediction:
“Kia tau ki a tātou katoa, te atawhai o te Ariki o Ihu Karaiti, me te aroha o te Atua, me te whiwhingatahitanga o te Wairua Tapu. Ᾱke, ake, ake. Ᾱmine.” Then in te reo Pākehā for Kelly’s benefit: “May the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ and the love of God and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with us all.”
Ᾱwhina gave Pania a hug and said, “Return to us as soon as Kelly is recovered.”
Kelly sat on a cushion for the journey and winced with each jolt of the cart over holes and rocks in the road. He was anxious to return to Auckland to start rebuilding. Annie would hopefully soon embark on her journey to New Zealand, giving him at least six months to get a new home ready to receive his bride and start a new life together in a new land, a land still troubled and divided, but a land with a hope and a future.
*
The country was no longer being torn apart by war but there were still localised conflicts arising from disputes over land, attacks on settlers, surveyors and soldiers. Māori throughout the country were ravaged by war, disease and starvation. There were many voices in the press predicting the inevitable extermination of the Māori race, colonists’ voices, emboldened by Charles Darwin, who had visited the colony, declaring that it was a matter of the survival of a superior race. There was much grief and bitterness among Māori throughout the land, but there was also hope.
Kelly had witnessed, in Te Kuiti, a people defeated but not broken. They were angry and grieving, but clinging to hope for the healing of the wounded land, hope for injustices to be righted, even for reconciliation of peoples divided: the Kingites and the Queenites, the Tauiwi invader colonisers and the tangata whenua dispossessed colonised. That was a longer journey.