The Snow Tiger / Night of Error. Desmond Bagley

The Snow Tiger / Night of Error - Desmond  Bagley


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that the procedure of this Commission is a matter for my discretion. Even in a law court it has not been unknown for a person to represent himself, choosing not to enlist the aid – or otherwise – of a lawyer. Therefore I will allow it.’ He held up his hand. ‘And I will entertain no argument about it. Proceed, Mr Ballard.’

      Ballard smiled at Turi. ‘I will not comment on any remarks that have been made here, but will go on from your last relevant statement. Mr Buck, you said that the councillors did not believe Dr McGill when he informed them of avalanche hazard. What were their reasons for disbelief?’

      ‘They said there had never been avalanches in the valley.’

      ‘Did they? Mr Chairman, is it possible to have a map of the valley on view?’

      ‘Provision has been made. Mr Reed, will you see to it.’

      Presently a large-scale map was set up on an easel behind the witness chair. Harrison said, ‘Since this map is evidence of a sort we must be sure that it is the best evidence. Mr Reed, call your technical witness, please.’

      ‘Call Mr Wheeler.’

      Wheeler was new to Ballard, who regarded him with interest. He returned his gaze to the map, and his eyes narrowed suddenly. Reed said, ‘What is your full name?’

      ‘Harold Herbert Wheeler.’

      Harrison said, ‘There is no need for you to take the witness chair, Mr Wheeler. Your evidence is technical and will not take long. What is your occupation?’

      ‘I am a cartographer employed by the Lands and Survey Department of the New Zealand Government.’

      ‘And you have prepared this map especially for this Inquiry?’

      ‘That is correct, sir.’

      ‘What does the map represent?’

      ‘It depicts the Hukahoronui Valley, including the township of Hukahoronui. The scale is one in two thousand, five hundred; that is twenty-five inches to the mile approximately.’

      ‘Does it represent the valley before or after the disaster?’

      ‘Before, sir. It is drawn according to the latest information available to the Topographical Office.’

      ‘Thank you, Mr Wheeler. That will be all.’

      Ballard said, ‘Could Mr Wheeler hold himself available for possible further questions?’

      Harrison wrinkled his brow. ‘I suppose so, Mr Ballard. You will stay available, Mr Wheeler.’

      Ballard studied the map. ‘Mr Buck, I would like you, if you will, to point out on this map your own house.’ Turi stood up and indicated a point on the map with his finger. ‘And the Peterson store.’ Turi’s hand came up around in an arc and stopped. ‘Now my house.’ Again Turi pointed. ‘And the mine portal.’

      ‘I fail to see the point of this,’ said Rickman.

      ‘The point is to prove that Mr Buck can read a map as well as the next man,’ said Ballard pleasantly. ‘Mr Buck, at the meeting with the council was a map produced?’

      ‘Yes, but not as big as this one.’

      ‘And were you asked to point out various places on that map?’

      ‘Yes, sir.’

      ‘Now I want you to think very carefully. I don’t want you to say anything here, because of my questioning, that was not said at the meeting with the council. Do you understand?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Why did you attend the meeting?’

      ‘Because Dr McGill asked me to go.’

      ‘Do you know why he asked you to go?’

      ‘He said I knew more about the history of Hukahoronui than anyone else he’d met.’

      ‘You say the reaction of the council was that there had, hitherto, never been avalanches in the valley. Was that the reaction of all the councillors?’

      ‘It was – at first.’

      ‘So their views changed, then. Let us find out why. Mr Buck, you are of the Maori race. Do you understand the language?’

      ‘Yes, sir.’

      ‘Can you give us a translation – a free translation, if you like – of the name, Hukahoronui?’

      ‘Yes, sir; it means “The Great Snow Slide”.’

      There was a subdued murmur from behind Ballard. ‘Would you point out your own house again, Mr Buck. There is a great rock between your house and the mountainside, is there not? What is the name of that rock?’

      ‘Kamakamaru.’

      ‘Kamakamaru,’ repeated Ballard. ‘Can you translate that into English?’

      ‘It means “The Rock of Shelter”.’

      Again came that quickly suppressed sound in the hall. ‘When was your house built, Mr Buck?’

      ‘It was built by my father about 1880, but there was a house there before built by my grandfather.’

      ‘Let us get one thing straight. Your family did not live in Hukahoronui before the incursion of the white settlers into New Zealand?’

      ‘Before the Pakeha! No, sir, my family came from North Island.’ Turi smiled. ‘It was said that we came to South Island to escape the Pakeha.’

      ‘Did your family name the valley and the rock?’

      ‘No, they were already named. There were some of my people living close by. Not in the valley, but close by.’

      ‘Did your father replace your grandfather’s house because, let us say, it had been damaged by an avalanche?’

      ‘No, sir. He replaced it because the house was in bad condition and because the family was growing larger.’

      Ballard was silent for a moment as he consulted a paper. At last he raised his head and asked quietly, ‘Mr Buck, do you, of your own knowledge, know of any avalanches in the valley of Hukahoronui?’

      ‘Yes, there was an avalanche in 1912 when I was a boy. A family called Bailey had built a house quite close to ours but not protected by Kamakamaru. My father warned the Baileys but they took no notice of him. There was an avalanche in the winter of 1912 and the Bailey house was swept away. The whole family died – all seven of them.’ He looked at Ballard and said definitely, ‘I was there – I helped dig out the bodies.’

      ‘So the rock – Kamakamaru – acted as a splitting wedge. Is that it?’

      ‘The snow flowed around Kamakamaru, and our house was safe.’

      ‘But the Bailey house was destroyed. Any more avalanches?’

      ‘There was one in 1918.’ Turi hesitated. ‘I was not there; I had joined the army. I had a letter from my father saying there had been an avalanche.’

      ‘Again on the western slope?’

      ‘Yes. There were no lives lost nor damage to property, but the snow blocked the flow of the river and there was flooding. The farmers lost a lot of stock by drowning.’

      ‘A six-year gap. Any more?’

      ‘There was the avalanche of 1943.’

      ‘Did you see that avalanche actually fall?’

      ‘No – but I remember it broke a lot of trees on the west slope. I used to collect firewood there afterwards.’

      ‘Yes,’ said Ballard. ‘There was a lot of good firewood around there for two or three years. Were there any fatalities in the avalanche of 1943?’

      Turi’s eyes opened wide. ‘Why, yes, Ian. Your father


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