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following night, Te Arepa and Rawinia were ready after tea for the old man to continue. He seemed to spend longer than usual fiddling about in the kitchen, and there were numerous trips outside. Each time he re-entered the room he pretended not to know what they wanted. Then, just when they were certain they would have to remind him, he raised a finger and exclaimed, “Oh yes, the story, I had forgotten.”
    They knew he hadn’t.
    “Would you believe my mind is completely blank, the story has gone!”
    Not true.
    “Are you sure that you have done all your chores? I noticed the wood pile in the shed had fallen over yesterday.”
    They had restacked it, and he knew it.
    Finally he stopped teasing them and sat down. It was as if only a breath had passed since his last sentence, not a whole day.
     
    “When Diego awoke he knew something strange and terrible had happened. Gone were the lofty-ceilinged bedroom and the scented sheets. The room stank and swayed and was completely black. His head throbbed and his mouth was dry as dust.
    “Where was he?
    “What had happened?
    “Some time later — was it hours or was it days? — the door opened and a flask of water and a bowl were placed on the floor. Moments later it was abruptly slammed and the darkness closed in again.
    “The truth seeped into him slowly, like poison. The ceaseless roll and creak had a more sinister meaning. He was at sea. This was a ship. He was imprisoned in a cell so small he could touch all the walls from where he sat. It must have happened during the celebrations. He had been drugged, smuggled aboard ship. Shanghaied .”
    “What’s that?” asked Rawinia.
    “Kidnapped by sailors,” said Te Arepa, eager for the story to continue.
    “It was a common thing among the rough seaside taverns that lined every port. A drugged drink or a blow to the head was how many sailors got their first berth on a sailing ship.”
    “That’s not fair!” exclaimed Rawinia. “He should call the police!”
    She was holding up the story. “There were no police, Winnie. Carry on, Ra, what happened next?”
    “Waking up where Diego did, far out to sea, different laws applied. Being a sailor, Diego was better placed than most to adapt to his new situation, but he had become intoxicated with the vision of a new life. This was the plan that had stretched before him likea magnificent dream. It had seemed both remote and tantalisingly within his reach, like little fish in a crystal pool.
    “While feasting on this vision, he had lost sight of what was happening immediately around him. After years of trusting no one, of constantly watching his back, he had finally surrendered to the idea of home. To the luxury of trust. To his brothers. He had found what everyone in the world wants: a turangawaewae … a place to stand.
    “Now his brothers’ betrayal had stripped him of the possibility of rest. He was like the toroa now, the great winged albatross, facing a life of constant flight. There was a sliver of glass embedded in his heart and the only thing that could remove it was utu, revenge. It was all he wanted. Only that would ever allow him to rest.
    “When he was finally released from his cell, the only sight of land was a tooth of rock jutting up from the horizon. He didn’t need to be told that it was the Rock of Gibraltar. He was on his way to the Dutch East Indies. Diego was a strong swimmer and in his desperation might have been tempted to leap over the side if it were not for one thing: around his ankles were stout shackles joined by a length of heavy chain.
    “It was a long, slow journey down the side of Africa and around Cape of Good Hope. The dull routine of ships was a life he knew well enough. But he was just a deckhand now, with no exalted status like in his former life. His lot was the menial duties of the lower order. He kept aloof from the other men, feeding on his anger. He had a mission and nothing would deter him from it.
    “At Cape Town the ship