her, “What’s the Irish Stew?” and Jessie said, “The Brian Boru!”
“You’re far too young to be even thinking of going near an hotel!” Daisy said. “And even when you are old enough, you must have a chaperon.”
We heard Jessie trying to mumble, “What’s a chaperon?” then we must have all gone to sleep because we were waking up withbells ringing inside our heads, and Daisy saying, “Everybody up! Put on your best clothes. We’re going to church.”
Lizzie and Jessie held the bottle of iron pyrites and the gold nugget and asked, “Can we go to Greasy Mick and Son’s for breakfast?”
“We haven’t time for church or breakfast,” said Aunt Effie, not if we’re going to get under the Kopu bridge before the tide comes in too far.” She had the dinghy floating astern on the heavy rope we used for towing.
“Kopu,” said Casey. “Is that the place where Wicked Nancy’s Island sank?”
Chapter Nine
Ghosting Up the Waihou River; the New Kopu Bridge; Cannibal Eels, Mr Firth and His Big Ideas; Getting a Bit on the Nose; the Okauia Springs; and “The Babes in the Woods”.
“ Tsk! Tsk! Tsk!” said Daisy. We looked over our stern and saw the crew of the trading scow fast asleep on its deck, the huge stack of firewood still on the wharf.
“That’s the trouble with Saturday night in the Thames,” Aunt Effie said. “They’re going to miss the tide again. Come on! We’ve got to get under the Kopu bridge, and we don’t want to miss Saturday night in Paeroa!”
We didn’t remind her we’d already had two Saturday nights that week. We towed out the Margery Daw stern first. There was no wind on deck, but the topsails picked up enough for us to ghost up the Waihou River.
At every mangrove tree standing in the water, the little ones cried, “There’s the island that sank!” After a while, they gave up. Then they saw a tea-tree stake sticking out of the water and screamed, “Wicked Nancy’s Island!”
“The tea-tree stakes mark the edge of the channel. Leave them to starboard going upriver, to port coming down,” Aunt Effie said to Marie at the wheel. The little ones looked disappointed.
The river was so wide, and the new Kopu bridge so long, we couldn’t see where it began and finished. Aunt Effie stuck her fingers in her mouth, whistled, and some men started galloping on horses towards its centre span.
“Tide’s pretty low,” said Aunt Effie, “but we’ll never get under. We’ll have to strike our topmasts.”
Before we could do that, the men reached the centre span and began turning winch handles. The whole middle section of the bridge groaned and swung till it pointed upstream and we could get through the gap without lowering the topmasts. Several buggies and a couple of wagons waited on the Auckland side. On the Thames side a leading dog held back a mob of cattle beasts. The drover sat his horse behind them. Further back, his pack-horse came clopping along the bridge, catching up.
“Good boy,” Ann said as we sailed past the leading dog who was being threatened by a black poley steer.
“If that beast goes in the river, the cannibal eels will get it,” said Aunt Effie. We looked at each other. “Cannibal eels!” Jazz mouthed silently.
Alwyn mooed, and the black cattle beast got such a shock it backed from the edge. Then we were past, the centre of the bridge closed behind us, and the buggies and wagons and steers started crossing again.
Between flax swamps, occasional farms, scrub, and patches of kahikatea, we sailed up the Waihou for months, past the end of tidal water. Several times we saw headless cows wandering around, unable to feed or even moo. Once it was a horse whichkept turning around to look at the stump where its tail had been. One poor cow was balancing itself just on its front legs. Its back half had been bitten off.
Aunt Effie shook her head and said, “Those cannibal eels… It’s not just the horses and cows. A few farmers have disappeared,
“You’re far too young to be even thinking of going near an hotel!” Daisy said. “And even when you are old enough, you must have a chaperon.”
We heard Jessie trying to mumble, “What’s a chaperon?” then we must have all gone to sleep because we were waking up withbells ringing inside our heads, and Daisy saying, “Everybody up! Put on your best clothes. We’re going to church.”
Lizzie and Jessie held the bottle of iron pyrites and the gold nugget and asked, “Can we go to Greasy Mick and Son’s for breakfast?”
“We haven’t time for church or breakfast,” said Aunt Effie, not if we’re going to get under the Kopu bridge before the tide comes in too far.” She had the dinghy floating astern on the heavy rope we used for towing.
“Kopu,” said Casey. “Is that the place where Wicked Nancy’s Island sank?”
Chapter Nine
Ghosting Up the Waihou River; the New Kopu Bridge; Cannibal Eels, Mr Firth and His Big Ideas; Getting a Bit on the Nose; the Okauia Springs; and “The Babes in the Woods”.
“ Tsk! Tsk! Tsk!” said Daisy. We looked over our stern and saw the crew of the trading scow fast asleep on its deck, the huge stack of firewood still on the wharf.
“That’s the trouble with Saturday night in the Thames,” Aunt Effie said. “They’re going to miss the tide again. Come on! We’ve got to get under the Kopu bridge, and we don’t want to miss Saturday night in Paeroa!”
We didn’t remind her we’d already had two Saturday nights that week. We towed out the Margery Daw stern first. There was no wind on deck, but the topsails picked up enough for us to ghost up the Waihou River.
At every mangrove tree standing in the water, the little ones cried, “There’s the island that sank!” After a while, they gave up. Then they saw a tea-tree stake sticking out of the water and screamed, “Wicked Nancy’s Island!”
“The tea-tree stakes mark the edge of the channel. Leave them to starboard going upriver, to port coming down,” Aunt Effie said to Marie at the wheel. The little ones looked disappointed.
The river was so wide, and the new Kopu bridge so long, we couldn’t see where it began and finished. Aunt Effie stuck her fingers in her mouth, whistled, and some men started galloping on horses towards its centre span.
“Tide’s pretty low,” said Aunt Effie, “but we’ll never get under. We’ll have to strike our topmasts.”
Before we could do that, the men reached the centre span and began turning winch handles. The whole middle section of the bridge groaned and swung till it pointed upstream and we could get through the gap without lowering the topmasts. Several buggies and a couple of wagons waited on the Auckland side. On the Thames side a leading dog held back a mob of cattle beasts. The drover sat his horse behind them. Further back, his pack-horse came clopping along the bridge, catching up.
“Good boy,” Ann said as we sailed past the leading dog who was being threatened by a black poley steer.
“If that beast goes in the river, the cannibal eels will get it,” said Aunt Effie. We looked at each other. “Cannibal eels!” Jazz mouthed silently.
Alwyn mooed, and the black cattle beast got such a shock it backed from the edge. Then we were past, the centre of the bridge closed behind us, and the buggies and wagons and steers started crossing again.
Between flax swamps, occasional farms, scrub, and patches of kahikatea, we sailed up the Waihou for months, past the end of tidal water. Several times we saw headless cows wandering around, unable to feed or even moo. Once it was a horse whichkept turning around to look at the stump where its tail had been. One poor cow was balancing itself just on its front legs. Its back half had been bitten off.
Aunt Effie shook her head and said, “Those cannibal eels… It’s not just the horses and cows. A few farmers have disappeared,
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