Free Kitty by Deborah Challinor Page A

has a bit of business he thinks might interest us. Could you manage a plate for him?’
    ‘I’m sure I can,’ Rebecca said, getting to her feet.
    ‘No, don’t bother, please,’ the captain insisted. ‘I ate at Pukera. My apologies for intruding at suppertime, but I have a busy night ahead of me.’
    ‘Captain, I don’t think you’ve been formally introduced to Reverend and Mrs Kelleher yet, our new missionary family,’ Win said. ‘Although I believe you were on the beach when they arrived? This is Captain Rian Farrell, Reverend, who trades frequently in this area. Tomorrow you will no doubt see his schooner, the Katipo, anchored in the bay, and a magnificent vessel she is too. That is, Captain, if you’re not planning on leaving again at first light?’
    ‘No, Mr Purcell, not tomorrow,’ Farrell replied, shaking hands with George and nodding pleasantly at Sarah. ‘Good evening, Reverend, Mrs Kelleher.’
    Kitty noted that her uncle did not seem terribly enthused to be meeting the captain.
    ‘And the young lady,’ Win went on, ‘is Miss Carlisle, Reverend Kelleher’s niece.’
    ‘Ah, yes, I do recall Miss Carlisle,’ Farrell said. ‘The little mermaid.’
    ‘Good evening, Captain,’ Kitty said as frostily as she could.
    She waited in case he might choose this moment to apologise for laughing at her the previous day, which she had found even more humiliating than falling in the water, but he simply nodded, sat down, and turned to Win.
    ‘I have a selection of goods you may be interested in, Mr Purcell. Paper, which I’m sure Mr Colenso could put to good use in his printing press, some quite nice carpets, various seeds, tools, some agricultural machinery, and a few other bits and pieces.’
    ‘No muskets or grog, I hope,’ Win said, his round, whiskery face disapproving.
    The Paihia mission had been engaged for years in a battle with traders and visiting ships’ crews to stop them supplying the Maoris with anything that might harm their paths to redemption, such as alcohol, tobacco and, in particular, muskets and ammunition, which were invariably used for warfare against other tribes and, on past occasions, had been used against the missionaries themselves.
    ‘Of course not,’ the captain said, not sounding at all offended by the suggestion.
    ‘What’s your outgoing cargo?’
    ‘Timber.’
    As the two men spoke, Kitty surreptitiously studied the captain from beneath lowered lashes as she wolfed down her pudding. It was most unbecoming for a young lady to eat with such gusto, but she was still hungry and she decided she couldn’t care less what he thought of her. Tonight he was wearing a royal blue coat with brass buttons, which stoodout in marked contrast to her uncle’s and Mr Purcell’s dusty black.
    Win said, ‘Well, we’d certainly be interested in the paper, depending on your asking price of course, and perhaps some of the tools, and I expect the ladies might like to have a look at the carpets.’
    Farrell sat back in his seat. ‘Tomorrow morning, then? Shall I have the goods brought in, or will you come out to the Katipo ?’
    ‘We’ll come out. Less likely to lose anything that way,’ Win said.
    The captain rose to his feet. ‘Good. Shall we say half past ten?’
    Win nodded. ‘I’ll bring Mr Colenso with me. He’ll want to inspect the paper and no doubt haggle over the price.’
    ‘No doubt,’ Farrell agreed. He bowed in what Kitty considered to be a slightly mocking manner. ‘Good night, ladies and gentlemen.’

Chapter Five
    K itty and Rebecca sat squashed together on the narrow wooden seat of the dinghy, trying not to stare at Win’s red, sweaty face as he rowed them out to the Katipo. The morning sun was obscured by great, fluffy, pewter clouds, and out here on the harbour the wind was so brisk that Kitty had to keep a firm grip on her bonnet. On Rebecca’s left also sat William Colenso, the mission’s printer, his hat pulled well down over his long face to keep