Aunt Effie and the Island That Sank Read online

  AUNT EFFIE is restless. She and her 26 nieces and nephews are off again in the scow Margery Daw — on a treasure hunt across the pirate-infested waterways of the Hauraki Gulf and The Waikato. However boat and crew become marvellously sidetracked: the scow is converted into a travelling cowshed for cross-country travel; a hot-pool swim makes the little ones go bendy; the race between Banana Bob’s Model T Ford and Uncle Chris’s Stanley Steamer is fraught with high-jinks and skulduggery.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Map

  Epigraph

  Dedication

  Introduction

  Twenty-six Nephews and Nieces; Six Gigantic Pig Dogs; Three Old Husbands; and The Name We Dare Not Say.

  Chapter I

  School Inspectors, Handcuffs, and Butterfly Nets; Visiting the Auckland Sewage Ponds; How Freemans Bay Got Its Name; Eating Greasies, and Taking Up.

  Chapter II

  Rigging the Margery Daw; Loading Our Cannonballs and Gunpowder; Keeping Your Fillings Wet; and “Who’s Wicked Nancy?”

  Chapter III

  Not Wanting to be Recognised; Spotted by the Prime Minister; The Old Wooden Harbour Bridge and the Net; Eyes in the Back of Aunt Effie’s Head; Returning Masked to the Hauraki Gulf; and Crying Sad Words to the Sea.

  Chapter IV

  Flying Fish for Breakfast; the Red-Sailed Schooner; Sailing Over the Edge of the World; Maps; and a Gory Story of Pirates, Treasure, and Blood.

  Chapter V

  Aunt Effie Tells a Highly Unsuitable Story Just Before the Little Ones Go to Bed: “Wicked Nancy and the Island that Sank, Part One”.

  Chapter VI

  Aunt Effie Tells the Rest of Her Highly Unsuitable Story Just Before the Little Ones Go to Bed: “Wicked Nancy and the Island that Sank, Part Two”.

  Chapter VII

  Somebody Has a Nightmare; Aunt Effie Thinks She’s Been Poisoned; Captain Flash and His One-Woman Submarine; We Cover our Tracks; and We Smell the Ozone of the Thames.

  Chapter VIII

  Saturday Night in the Thames; Barrels of Rum; Lighting the Gas Lamps; Thames Mussels and Flatties; What We Saw in the Brian Boru; the Tattooed Man and the Fat Lady; and Counting the Rubbity-Dubs.

  Chapter IX

  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”.

  Chapter X

  How Our Bones Went Soft and Bendy in the Hot Water; How We Beat the Scurvy with Spruce Beer; and How We Winched the Margery Daw Uphill and Kedged her Across the Flat Paddocks.

  Chapter XI

  Mr Firth’s Tower, the Model T Ford, and Banana Bob; “You Mustn’t Call Him that Name”; We Learn How to Strain Tea-leaves through a Moustache; and Alwyn Gives Cheek.

  Chapter XII

  Uncle Chris and His Magnificent Stanley Steamer; A Cowshed on Wheels; Getting Punished for Giving Cheek; and Swelling the Sawdust in Sausages.

  Chapter XIII

  Gypsy Day in the Waikato; The Night Uncle Chris’s Bull Ran Through Matamata; Eating Sausages in our Fingers; Drinking Tea Out of the Saucer; Why Mr Firth Built the Tower; Poor Alwyn.

  Chapter XIV

  Letting the Witches Out; the Sideshow Man and the Phantom Drummer; the Challenge; the Black Spot; Silly Old Bugaboo; Three Gigantic Gorillas; The Starting Gun; and 800 lb p.s.i.

  Chapter XV

  The Race to the Waterfall; the Phantom Drummer’s Dirty Tricks; Green Liquid Cow-Muck; Cheating and Letting Down Our Tyres; the Flax-Stick Raft, and the Booby-Trapped Bridge.

  Chapter XVI

  Driving Across the Stringers; More of the Phantom Drummer’s Dirty Tricks; A Bottle of Waipiro; the Runaway Wheel; a Daniel Come to Judgement; “Explain Yourselves!”

  Chapter XVII

  Aunt Effie Takes Off Her Corsets and Drinks Tea Out of Her Saucer; the Governor-General Gives a Holiday to the Hinuera School; Rustle of Spring; Down Lake Waikato; What We Saw in the Rangitoto Channel.

  Chapter XVIII

  Why One Tree Hill Sprang a Leak and Rangitoto Island Sank; How We Found Wicked Nancy’s Treasure, Thrashed Aunt Effie’s Three Old Husbands, and Learned About Tourists.

  Chapter XIX

  How the Prime Minister Gambled Away All Our Taxes; How Aunt Effie Rescued Her, Paid Her Debts, and Made a Profit; How the Prime Minister Learned Her Lesson and Gave Us a Ride in Her Zeppelin.

  Chapter XX

  Tears of Gratitude; Home on the Rotorua Express; the Rat Trap and the Bugaboo; Frittering Away the Treasure.

  Daisy’s Third Glossary

  The Deaf Old Author

  Also by Jack Lasenby

  Copyright

  Key

  1. Kumeu River 18. Hinuera

  2. Rangitoto Island 19. Lake Karapiro

  3. Waiheke Island

  20. Karapiro Dam

  4. Kawau Island 21. Cambridge

  5. Where we sailed over the edge of the world 22. Hamilton

  6. Little Barrier Island

  23. Ngaruawahia

  7. Great Barrier Island 24. Taupiri

  8. Coromandel 25. Huntly

  9. Miranda 26. Mercer

  10. Thames 27. Port Waikato

  11. Paeroa 28. Great Waharoa Dam

  12. Te Aroha 29. Dame Cath Tizard Canal

  13. Stanley Landing 30. Manukau Sea

  14. Okauia Springs 31. Lesser Waharoa Dam

  15. The Waterfall 32. Tom Davies Canal

  16. Matamata 33. Tamaki River

  17. Mr Firth’s Tower 34. Brown’s Island

  17—15. The Race to the Waterfall 35. Queen Street

  36. The Casino

  “We hope the names are in the right places.”

  —Casey, Lizzie, Jared, Jessie.

  “I always make sure the names are in the right places!” —Daisy.

  To Uncle Chris Costall

  Aunt Effie and the Island that Sank is a work of fiction. The characters, places, and incidents in this book are all figments of my imagination. None is intended to bear any resemblance to any person, place, or incident living or dead. Only my own name is real.

  Introduction

  Twenty-six Nephews and Nieces; Six Gigantic Pig Dogs; Three Old Husbands; and The Name We Dare Not Say.

  “I never read the introduction! If you’ve read Aunt Effie and Aunt Effie’s Ark, you needn’t bother to read this one.” —Aunt Effie.

  “I always read the introduction!” —Daisy.

  Aunt Effie can’t be bothered remembering which one of us is which so she yells all our names: “Daisy-Mabel-Johnny-Flossie-Lynda-Stan-Howard-Marge-Stuart-Peter-Marie-Colleen-Alwyn-Bryce-Jack-Ann-Jazz-Beck-Jane-Isaac-David-Victor-Casey-Lizzie-Jared-Jess!” And we all come running.

  It’s the same with her six gigantic pig dogs. She calls them, “Caligula-Nero-Brutus-Kaiser-Genghis-Boris!” and they all come running.

  Aunt Effie has three old husbands: Captain Flash who has a pointy head, Chief Rangi who has a tattooed face, and the Reverend Samuel Missionary who wears his white collar backwards. They’re still in love with Aunt Effie and keep trying to call her by her proper name which she hates. We call it The Name We Dare Not Say. They’re always putting on disguises and trying to catch us, but we’re miles too smart for them.

  Chapter One

  School Inspectors, Handcuffs, and Butterfly Nets; Visiting the Auckland Sewage Ponds; How Freemans Bay Got Its Name; Eating Greasies, and Taking Up.

  Aunt Effie spat on her hanky and rubbed the smuts of soot off our faces. The Rotorua Express slid into the Auckland Railway Station, getting slower till it looked as if the people on the platform were moving past us, and we were standing
still. Before it stopped, we turned the brass handle, opened the door, and jumped out. We had to lean backwards and run hard or fall flat on our faces.

  “Why aren’t you children at school?”

  “Stop! You’re under arrest!”

  “Hands up, or we’ll shoot!”

  Three school inspectors in black suits and shiny black shoes ran at us shouting, shaking handcuffs, and waving butterfly nets. One had a pointy head. One had a tattooed face. The third had his white collar on back-to-front. Rows and rows of different-coloured ballpoint pens stuck out of their waistcoat pockets, and bunches of keys jangled on their belts.

  The three school inspectors brought their nets down with a wallop. One caught Casey and Lizzie. One caught Jared and Jessie. The third caught Daisy, but she just stood there wearing her school uniform, her panama hat, and a silly smile on her face.

  “How dare you!” Aunt Effie walloped the school inspectors with her umbrella. As bright as hundreds and thousands, the ballpoint pens spilled out of their waistcoat pockets and rolled about the platform. We cheered and stuffed them down our shirts.

  “We are the Hopuruahine Primary School.” Whack! “On an educational visit to the Auckland Sewage Ponds.” Whack! “And I am Miss Bryce.” Whack! “Sool them Caligula-Nero-Brutus-Kaiser-Genghis-Boris!” As her six gigantic dogs chased the school inspectors, Aunt Effie took a pair of scissors from inside her rolled umbrella and snipped the butterfly nets off the little ones.

  “Can you leave mine on, please?” asked Daisy. “I love going to school!”

  Aunt Effie twitched the net off her head. “Take off that ridiculous panama hat at once, or the seagulls will poop on it. Daisy-Mabel-Johnny-Flossie-Lynda-Stan-Howard-Marge-Stuart-Peter-Marie-Colleen-Alwyn-Bryce-Jack-Ann-Jazz-Beck-Jane-Isaac-David-Victor-Casey-Lizzie-Jared-Jess, join hands and follow me!” Aunt Effie climbed astride her umbrella and cantered neighing through the station, and we ran yahooing after her.

  “Stop!” shouted the stationmaster in his gold and scarlet hat, and he waved a ticket punch. “Stop!” shouted a policeman in his tall black helmet, and he waved a truncheon.

  Aunt Effie tripped the stationmaster and pulled the policeman’s helmet over his face. We jumped on a horse-tram in front of the station. “Freemans Bay!” Aunt Effie shouted at the driver. She stuck her fingers in the corners of her mouth, whistled, and Caligula, Nero, Brutus, Kaiser, Genghis, and Boris dropped the school inspectors – all covered in dog dribble – and jumped after us. The horses galloped along Beach Road, past Anzac Avenue, and into Customs Street.

  “What’s the matter?” Aunt Effie asked the four little ones.

  “You promised we were going sailing on our scow, the Margery Daw!” Casey and Lizzie cried.

  “You didn’t tell us we were going to the Auckland Sewage Ponds!” bawled Jared and Jessie.

  “Poo! We don’t want to go to the sewage ponds!” we all cried. “They pong! Besides, we hate educational visits!”

  “Shut up, the lot of you! You know I can’t stand people boohooing at me,” said Aunt Effie. “I just made up that bit about the sewage ponds for the school inspectors.”

  “We heard that!” We looked around and saw the three inspectors hanging on the back of the tram. Aunt Effie donged their fingers with her umbrella till they let go. More school inspectors came running down Queen Street, blowing whistles and flashing torches. “Stop!” they shouted. “Those children are playing the wag from school. We arrest you in the name of Queen Victorious!”

  We threw the ballpoint pens under the inspectors’ shiny black shoes. “Aaah!” Waving their arms to balance, and still blowing their whistles, the inspectors rolled on the ballpoints down Queen Street, down Queens Wharf, and off the end. Splash! Their whistles gurgled and stopped.

  On iron wheels, the horse-tram rumbled across Queen Street, past the Tepid Baths, past the giant Santa Claus on the Farmers, and under a big sign saying “Freemans Bay.”

  “Safe!” said Aunt Effie. “This is a sanctuary from school inspectors. It’s called Freemans Bay because the kids here don’t have to go to school.”

  We cheered, all of us but Daisy who started scribbling something on a bit of paper, as the horse-tram pulled up in front of Greasy Mick’s fish and chip shop at the foot of College Hill. We patted the sweating horses and bought them each a bottle of Creaming Soda. While Aunt Effie ordered a feed, we collected our oars from under Greasy Mick’s counter, went down to the beach, turned our dinghy up the right way, and slid it into the water. It leaked badly.

  “It’s opened up over winter,” said Aunt Effie. “But it’ll take up while we eat our tucker.” Greasy Mick arrived with a wheelbarrow full of fish and chips wrapped in the Waharoa Herald, and we ate till we were bloated.

  “Those three school inspectors,” said Marie, “they reminded me of somebody.”

  “One had a tattooed face,” said Alwyn.

  “One had his collar on back-to-front like a minister,” said Jazz.

  “And the other had a pointy head,” said Ann.

  “I’m sure I’ve seen them before,” said Peter.

  “Nonsense!” Aunt Effie belched loudly. “I don’t know whether I’ve eaten too many fish and chips or read too much of the Herald.” She belched again and said, “Better out than in!” Daisy looked scandalised.

  “The dinghy’s taken up. Bail her out, Daisy-Mabel-Johnny-Flossie-Lynda-Stan-Howard-Marge-Stuart-Peter-Marie-Colleen-Alwyn-Bryce-Jack-Ann-Jazz-Beck-Jane-Isaac-David-Victor-Casey-Lizzie-Jared-Jess! We’ll catch the incoming tide.”

  Chapter Two

  Rigging the Margery Daw; Loading Our Cannonballs and Gunpowder; Keeping Your Fillings Wet; and “Who’s Wicked Nancy?”

  Even with the tide, rowing up the harbour took us several weeks. We reached the Kumeu River, poled between the mangroves, and found our scow, the Margery Daw, where we’d left her in a mud berth for winter. Being careful not to tramp mud all over the deck, we began stepping her mizzen-mast.

  It slipped, when we almost had it up, and came down – dong! – on Daisy’s head.

  “Well, you will wear that silly panama hat,” said Aunt Effie. “Take it off at once, and rub a bit of butter on the bump.”

  We stepped both masts, got up the standing rigging, careened the Margery Daw, burnt the tar off her bottom, repainted her, ran up the running rigging, bent on new canvas, kedged and worked her out into the channel, down past Herald Island, and out of sight of land. Before the wicked Auckland City Council filled it in with reclamations, the Waitemata Harbour was so wide you couldn’t see both sides at once.

  “Land ahoy!” Ann cried from the crow’s-nest.

  “That’ll be Kauri Point,” said Aunt Effie. “We’re going into the Powder Wharf to take aboard our cannonballs and gunpowder.”

  “I hope there’s not going to be any fighting,” said Daisy.

  “I thought I told you to take off that silly panama hat! And you can change out of your school uniform while you’re about it.

  “Put out the galley fire. Make sure there’s no candles or lanterns alight.” Aunt Effie collected all our matches and put them in an airtight tin. We took off everything metal: the knives we always wore on board, the buckles off our belts, and our wristwatches. The dogs took off their metal-studded collars. Aunt Effie even took the scissors out of her rolled umbrella and snipped off all our buttons because they were made of metal too.

  “Why are the little ones crying?” asked Aunt Effie.

  “Alwyn told us we have to take the metal fillings out of our teeth in case we grind them together, make sparks, and blow up the gunpowder!”

  “You’ll be all right,” Aunt Effie told the little ones. “Just keep licking your teeth every now and again to keep your fillings wet.” And she brought us alongside the Powder Wharf without a bump.

  Our feet were so hard from going barefoot, they sometimes struck sparks off the deck, so we wore sacking moccasins like shearers. We swung the barrels of gunpowder aboard, and rolled the cannonbal
ls down the gangway, taking care not to let them click.

  “And I’ll take sixty hundredweight of blasting powder and ninety cases of gelignite,” Aunt Effie told the wharfinger.

  “We’re out of blasting powder and gelignite.”

  Aunt Effie slipped the wharfinger a rare piece of gold-flecked kauri gum we’d dug up behind Mercury Bay the summer before. He found he had enough blasting powder and gelignite after all, and we carried it aboard, being careful not to drop it.

  “Aunt Effie,” Marie yelled. “I saw a tattooed head looking around the corner of the wharf shed!”

  “What’s going on?” Aunt Effie demanded of the venal wharfinger. She bent his fingers backwards till he knelt down and cried, “Ouch! That hurts. Ouch! I give in! I’ll tell the truth! Captain Rangi bribed me to find out where you’re going.”

  “See this map,” said Aunt Effie, pulling one out of her rolled umbrella. “See Miranda at the bottom of the Gulf is circled with blood? That’s where we’re heading, to hunt for gold at Miranda. Tell Captain Rangi and, next time we’re in port, I’ll give you another piece of kauri gum.”

  The wharfinger stuck both sore hands in his pockets, and ran away saying, “Ouch! Ouch! Thank you! Thank you!”

  “I’ve got a strange feeling in my funny bone,” Aunt Effie said as we stowed the last explosives, stitched them in green canvas to keep them dry, and cast off from the Powder Wharf. “It’s been itching ever since we got on the Rotorua Express.”