The overlanders, p.24
The Overlanders, page 24
‘Thanks for your help.’ she whispered. Peter came back and made the point that they must cross, as the water would be soon too high for them to ford. Sarah was apprehensive but followed the men towards the water. The river was up to her thighs as she struggled to walk across, holding firmly onto the horse’s reigns and Andrew’s hand. They all managed to get across safely but as Andrew was climbing up the bank, he slipped and fell, twisting his knee. Sarah was behind him and saw him fall, and shouted to Peter for help. Andrew was in a lot of pain and unable to move his leg. She called out again as the sound of the rain and wind made it impossible for Peter to hear. He finally acknowledged her desperate calls and relieved them of their mounts.
‘Stay there, I will get rid of the horses and come back!’ he yelled. The storm was now ferocious and Sarah could hardly hear what Peter was saying. Mud oozed into her boots as water dripped down her back and chest drenching her.
‘I think I have dislocated my knee!’ Andrew yelled over the noise of the rain. Peter was back soon and with their help, Andrew made it up the bank. At one time, calling out in pain, he leant heavily on Sarah for support.
‘Can you make it to the hut?’ Peter asked. It was about a hundred meters away up a small bank. Andrew nodded affirmatively and with an effort they at last reached it.
Bursting into the hut, they found it dry and relatively warm. The sound of the rain and wind had begun to diminish.
‘Here, hold him up Sarah,’ Peter said as he swung Andrew around so he stood in front of Sarah, his arms using Sarah’s shoulders for support. Looking up, she saw the pain on Andrew’s face. Standing on one leg, he lost his balance but Sarah managed to hold on to him. The water dripped off both their bodies making a pool of water on the dirt floor.
‘Will not be long now, Peter is clearing the bed.’ Looking behind Andrew, she saw Peter placing the gear against the wall. Peter helped remove Andrew’s mackintosh and to sit on the side of the lower bed.
‘Go and get a couple of blankets, he has to get out of these wet clothes.’ Peter disappeared to get Andrews’s kit.
‘Throw a blanket on the bed, there could be fleas in the mattress and give me a hand with his clothes.’ The pair helped Andrew remove his top clothes. Sarah could not help but notice his scars.
‘Andrew, we will take off your trousers and long johns.’ Placing a blanket around Andrew’s waist, they removed his trousers and long johns as far as the knee. The knee was obviously dislocated and Sarah cut the trousers along the seam to get them off. The underwear came off without a problem but Andrew shook with the cold and in pain.
‘Peter, pass me a dry top and shirt,’ Andrew asked uncomfortable with his nakedness.
‘I will sort the horses out and start a fire. There is a lean-to beside the hut, big enough for the horses and I think I saw some dry firewood.’
Andrew sat up, supporting himself on his elbows. Sarah looked around the hut, and spying old blankets, told Andrew to lean forward so she could place them at his back. At last, he lay back on the bed.
‘Give me the shirt to put on.’ Leaning forward he put it on, leaving the buttons undone, and then collapsed back onto the blankets. Taking another blanket Sarah supported his knee. As long as he did not move it, it did not hurt too much.
‘Would you like some laudanum?’ Sarah inquired.
‘Yes, I will as yer will have to put my knee back in place when Peter returns.’
‘What!’
‘Yer heard.’ Sarah was horrified at the idea. Retrieving Andrew’s sack, Sarah found the bottle and gave him some of the mixture.
‘Awful isn’t it?’ she said with smile as Andrew screwed up his face. Peter was back with an armful of wood.
‘I will get us another load and the rest of our gear, then we should be all set.’
‘Andrew wants us to put his knee back into place.’ Peter glanced at Andrew then back to Sarah, his face turning pale.
‘There is a first time for everything.’
‘Andrew, I am going to help Peter and then we will fix your leg.’ Andrew nodded, he felt warmer and the pain had subsided slightly. Several minutes later, the fire was lit and their coats were off and drying.
‘I have never done this before,’ Peter whispered to Andrew.
‘Yer going to bloody well do it now.’ He glared at him as he spoke quietly so Sarah did not hear. ‘What I want yer to do, is to pull the knee in the direction it is at the moment. Then, still pulling on it, bring it back in line with the leg. Yer may here a clonking noise as it goes back in. Sarah, I will need yer to keep me from moving down the bed.’ Peter took hold of Andrew’s lower leg, ‘Sarah, come and sit behind me with yer arms around my waist.’ Timidly climbing onto the bed, she placed her legs on either side of him and put her arms around him. He grabbed her hands and brought them around his waist allowing her to grip them together. Sarah felt his hands resting on hers, patting her hands and then letting go. ‘Now, put yer foot against the stud of the wall. She braced her leg, taking a big breath, ready for the next instructions.
‘When yer have done it, put a towel around the knee and bandage it.’
‘Right,’ said Peter, ‘let’s get this over and done with.’ Like Sarah, Andrew braced himself with his good leg against a stud on the wall of the hut.
‘Ready, one, two, three.’ Sarah held onto him as hard as she could as Peter first pulled the leg in one direction, then the other. As the knee went back into place, a clonk was heard and Andrew yelled out in pain, falling backwards on top of Sarah, out cold.
‘Oh my God, is he all right?’ Sarah cried.
‘He has only fainted. We better get him settled, before he comes round.’ Peter wrapped the leg and looked up at his sister.
‘I will pull him forwards and you can get out,’ Sarah freed herself, straightened up and proceeded to position Andrew on the blankets, adding another on top of the one already covering him.
‘Let’s get organized with food and more firewood. I think it will be a cold night.’ Peter said. Sarah hesitated for a few moments and looked down at Andrew. His shirt was open, exposing his chest. She sat down on the bed to do up his buttons. Her eyes caught sight once more of his scar. Not being able to stop herself, she touched the scar on his shoulder. Looking at his face, he seemed to be still unconscious. Her eyes returned to the scar, lightly she traced over it with her fingertips. She wanted to kiss the imperfection away. Her hand travelled down to the one across his stomach; again, she gently traced around the edges. She swallowed and closed her eyes, trying to stop a tear from escaping. Andrew stirred. She removed her hand, did up his shirt and covered his chest with the blanket. Leaving him, Sarah busied herself with preparing a meal.
Andrew had felt her presence as her fingers trace over his scars. As she moved down to his waist, he knew he had to move. Parts of him were stirring but it was no time for this to occur. She was not repelled by the scars but had touched them gently, as she had done so weeks before. His heart beat faster, a lump formed in his throat and he wanted to cry. Closing his eyes tighter, he took a big breath and the feeling subsided, but not before a single tear slipped down his cheek. His mind was clouded from the laudanum, but the pain had eased and a feeling of calmness came over him as he drifted back to sleep.
As the meal cooked, Sarah glanced around the hut. The building was made of manuka with a thatched roof. It was sound and the wind and rain did not penetrate the walls. The rain was extremely heavy and when Peter entered after retrieving another load of firewood, he told her that while the river was rising, the hut was high enough not to be in any danger of flooding. Several nails stuck out of the walls, and stretching a rope between them, she hung up the clothes to dry. The earth floor appeared to be becoming wetter, so quietly and carefully, so as not to disturb Andrew, she placed their gear higher up to on the spare bed above him. Her eyes rested on the sleeping man. She wanted to crawl into the bed with him and longed to snuggle close and for him to make love to her.
It was much later when Andrew began to stir. There was a foul taste in his mouth. He listened to the sound of the rain and wind as it battered on the small hut. The smell of smoke, damp clothes and a hint of roses greeted him. Opening his eyes, he looked around the room. It was dark, with only a glow coming from the fire and a lamp. It took a few moments for him to focus his eyes. A table and chairs were in the middle of the room; against the far wall, were another set of bunks with Peter lying on the top one, writing a letter. Most probably it was for Nancy. At the foot of the bunks were the saddles, neatly piled high. To the left, the flames of the fire made flickering shadows on the walls. In front of the fire, sat Sarah, sewing his trousers. The firelight was reflected on her face, as she concentrated on her task. She was beautiful and his heart skipped a beat. Sarah lifted her head and glanced at Peter, then Andrew. She smiled, placed her sewing down and rose.
‘How are you feeling?’ she asked quietly, as she came over to sat down beside him on the bunk.
‘Not bad, much better thanks.’ Andrew adjusted the blanket around his chest making sure he was covered.
‘Do you want something to eat or drink?’
‘I would love a cup of coffee.’ Sarah studied him for a few moments before rising. His face was pale and drawn. but at least he felt better. Going over to the fire she poured him a mug of coffee. On a plate, she placed some of the mutton stew she had cooked the night before and a slice of bread. Andrew pulled himself up and reached out to take the plate and mug. His hand rested on the top of hers as both their gazes met. Sarah felt the pressure of Andrew squeezing her hand, sending her heart into overdrive, as her breathing quickened and her body wanting to be closer to him.
‘Thanks, Sarah.’ Sarah slowly removed her hand, smiling as she did so.
‘There is more if you want it.’ Andrew nodded as Sarah returned to the fire.
When Andrew touched her, she did not feel embarrassed, nor did she want to pull away. Standing in front of the flames, she held her hands over her stomach. The butterflies returned and a hot flush crept over her. Sarah closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation before picking up Andrews’s trousers and hanging them up to finish drying.
In the morning, Peter restocked the fire. It was cold, and a dry frost had settled over the low land and the hills above them wore a dusting of snow. The horses had fared badly as a flock of sheep must have been detained here for days by the river as there was little feed for them. They could not remain here too much longer with no food available for the beasts.
Sarah saw Andrew stirring and was about to go over when something darting under the table caught her eye.
‘Peter, Peter a rat!’ Before she knew it, she was in the corner of the room, looking around for the offending creature. Peter came running in.
‘What is wrong? What is the matter?’
‘A huge rat ran under the table.’ Sarah spied an old broom, and grabbing it she edged out of the corner towards were she had seen the rodent.
‘Sarah, for goodness sake, you have seen a rat before.’
‘But this one is huge.’ Andrew looked around the room with a mystified expression on his face. Sarah called out.
‘There, there it goes!’ She pointed over to the opposite corner, Peter went in its direction. Sarah advanced, broom raised in her hand. Huddled in the corner was a small bird, about the size of a pheasant with short wings and tail.
‘Look out, Sarah it will get you,’ he made a grab for it and as he did, the frightened creature flew a few feet up into the air, flapping it is wings vigorously. It took off in the direction of the open door way, disappearing seconds later. Sarah screamed and Peter fell, going down with a loud thud onto the floor. Sarah also lost her balance, and fell face down on top of her brother. Peter lay on the floor for a few minutes, and Sarah moved quickly to sit on his belly and reaching down, grabbed his arms and put them above his head.
‘Remember when we were little, we used to fight a lot and I used to pin you to the ground. You were such a scrawny fellow.’ At first Peter was taken aback at what his sister was doing. He moved, flipping her over onto her back, pinning her to the ground, resting on his knees so as to not put too much pressure on her body. He secured her hands above her head.
‘And remember when I said in Wellington, I let you win most of the time and I could take you at any time.’ Sarah looked at him suspiciously. Glancing up at Andrew, she saw he had a mystified expression on his face, shaking his head. Peter released her and stood up.
‘Have you ever taken a woman by force?’ she asked. Peter was surprised by her question.
‘I think that is an inappropriate question to ask you brother, or any man for that matter!’ Sarah flushed, but persisted.
‘You did not answer the question.’
‘That is none of your business,’ he stared at her. ‘If you must know I certainly have not!’ He offered his arm to help her up, extremely annoyed with her. ‘Now go and get our breakfast! Maybe it was wrong for me to insist you wore trousers. You should start to wear a dress again. You are beginning to act like a tomboy.’
‘No! These will do fine.’ Sarah said indignantly as she pushed past him to start the breakfast. Peter’s ire rose how dare she ask such a question. He glanced at Andrew as he moved over to restock the fire. Andrew raised his eyebrows, but said nothing about the incident and changed the subject.
‘That bird who scared you is a wood-hen. A stupid creature. The Maoris catch them by tying red feathers to the end of a long pole, dance them in front of them, then slip a flax noose over its head and then they have their dinner.’ Andrew could not resist laughing. ‘You two did look funny trying to catch the thing.’ Sarah was indignant.
‘You, Sir, are in no position to laugh at me. One flick of my hand and you, dear man, will be naked.’
Andrew smiled as he stared directly into her face, taunting her. He held his arms up, palms up away from the blanket. Peter studied the two, before he spoke,
‘Sarah hold your tongue. You would not dare. If you did, you would feel my hand on your bum.’
‘Peter do not be so crude.’ Sarah snapped back.
‘I am not the one threatening to expose a gentleman.’
‘As if I would!’ Sarah stamped her foot and clenched her fists. She looked at Andrew, who laughed. ‘Oh, you two are infuriating.’ She turned and stormed out the door. Peter gave Andrew a grumpy look.
‘And as for you teasing her.’
‘So much for our fearless Sarah.’ Andrew grinned.
‘How is the knee this morning?’
‘I do not know. Could yer give me a hand?’ Peter unwrapped Andrew’s knee. It was still swollen and bruised. Gradually, Andrew bent it to about forty-five degrees, then rested it on the blanket again.
‘Good as new. A bit stiff.’ he wore a pained expression on his face.
‘Bloody liar. Will you be able to travel? The horses need food.’ Peter replied.
‘We do not have much choice, do we?’ Peter shook his head.
‘Pass me my things and help me get dressed before Sarah ‘the Brave’ comes back.’ Struggling, Peter helped him into his long johns and trousers. Andrew tried to put weight on his leg, but it was not successful and the pain forced him to stop. Peter steadied him.
‘I have got to go for a walk if yer know what I mean.’ Peter smiled.
‘Wait a minute.’ He grabbed a long branch for Andrew to use as a walking stick.
After breakfast, the bags were packed and the animals loaded. Peter brought Andrews’s mount right up to the door of the hut and with the aid of Sarah, they managed to get him on his horse.
Four miles further on they came to a Black Birch forest. It extended about for ten miles; the path through it was wet. There were many gullies and the ground was slippery. Trees had been cut down, making the way easier. As they rode, Peter remembered the question Sarah had asked him. No, he did not think he had taken a woman by force but he remembered what Andrew had told him, and how Isabel made love and how he returned the pleasure. Maybe he did rape women by not giving them all he should have.
After four hours, they were out of the forest. At the edge was a house, where they stopped for food. As throughout the country, the people were hospitable and for 1s 6d they received bread and cheese. Back on their way once more, they crossed several fern-clad hills and a stream. As they travelled Andrew became paler and paler, and it was obvious his knee was throbbing although he did not complain. At sunset, they entered another forest, and the shadows became longer and the evening dew settled on them. Sarah felt a cold shiver as the dampness penetrated her jacket. The way was made less strenuous by a road bringing them after four miles to a house where they could stop for the night.
The owner, ‘Gorky’ Rogers, was a Yorkshire man, who was drunk, but his wife made them as comfortable as she could in beds in a detached house. Andrew dismounted and carefully hobbled into the house. His knee was giving him a lot of pain. Slipping his trousers off, he rolled up his long johns exposing a swollen knee.
‘I will go and see if Mrs. Rogers has anything we can put on the knee,’ Sarah said as she slipped out of the door and made her way to the main house. Several minutes later, she returned with a smelly compress.
‘I am not having that on me, woman.’
‘Stop your moaning and put this on. Mrs. Rogers swears by it for swollen joints.’ Andrew stared at Sarah, but she obviously would not take no as an answer. Begrudgingly, Andrew agreed that she may put the compress on followed by a measure of laudanum. The trio retired for the night. The pain relief made Andrew groggy, but as the pain subsided so did his temper and he was able to sleep.
When daylight arrived, their hosts were still asleep. Peter yelled out,
‘How much do we owe?’
‘Half–a–crown!’ came the reply. Placing the coin on the table, they left.
The roadside scenery was changing, showing signs of a higher level of cultivation. Small cottages with fences, and fields of grain increased in numbers until they got into the Wakefield Valley where the farms were much larger. The valley widened out into a large plain, similar to the Wairau. They halted at Richmond for breakfast and to give Andrew’s knee a rest, before travelling on to Nelson, arriving at five o’clock.
