Kiore

Te Kiore roared at the topmen; die sails were swiftly brought in and neatly gathered, ready to be flown again at the first breath, leaving only a spanker for steadying.

The Gates of Noon Rohan, Michael Scott, 1951- 1992

Te Kiore nodded tautly, then ducked frantically as his curly bush brushed a rivetted joint and sizzled alarmingly.

The Gates of Noon Rohan, Michael Scott, 1951- 1992

Four men, stay with the boats-all right, not you, te Kiore.

The Gates of Noon Rohan, Michael Scott, 1951- 1992

'Hope they're not all a load of flamin' painted savages, 'added te Kiore, waggling his lace-tattooed tongue.

The Gates of Noon Rohan, Michael Scott, 1951- 1992

On the way back, the sword bobbing comfortingly along my leg, I met te Kiore, buckling the polished sword-club at his side.

The Gates of Noon Rohan, Michael Scott, 1951- 1992

At last te Kiore threw down his shovel with an incoherent oath.

The Gates of Noon Rohan, Michael Scott, 1951- 1992

We reached the beach at the trot, with Jacquie flagging in our midst, myself not much better, te Kiore limping and Ape still a groaning wreck on a makeshift stretcher, but looking much more like his old self again.

The Gates of Noon Rohan, Michael Scott, 1951- 1992

Te Kiore and Batang Sen were waiting on the poopdeck as we came clattering up the ladder.

The Gates of Noon Rohan, Michael Scott, 1951- 1992

Te Kiore hadn't thought anything of the three or four girls down by the kerb, a few more over by a rickshaw coke stall, or patrolling back and forth under the lights.

The Gates of Noon Rohan, Michael Scott, 1951- 1992

With a yell Jacquie threw herself on him and shook him, and te Kiore and I, with military precision, seized him by each arm and dragged him upright.

The Gates of Noon Rohan, Michael Scott, 1951- 1992