“Without Defeat”

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume 79, Issue 181, 5 August 1935, Page 9

“Without Defeat”

A New Serial

(by

Oliver Blacky

A Story with a Call to a Nation

Reduce the Debt. Oliver spent two nights at Masterton and one at Featherstone. lie liked them both Mastertoil, the busy lit tie market town, and Featherston, tucked right up between the Riniutakas. In these four days he met many more farmers ami savv many more farms. And they all bore out the, words of the wise little writer in Levin and confirmed Oliver's own experiences on the wav to Auckland. Farmers were only like other folk, they were good, bad and indifferent; energetic and idle; quiet and noisy. And the real crux of their difficulties was without any question the fall in the value of land consequent on the fall in prices, leaving them to try to wrest from the soil a yield which the soil could, not give. Reduce the burden of debt on land to a figure which it could carry, and the competent farmer would prosper; and with, him, the country. Parochial or National? Oliver was driving up the Maungaroa VaLey. His thoughts turned instinctively to the day of his tramp—the day on which he had met Tanner; the day which had started all this. He felt as if he had come home after a long absence. He looked up at the tops of the mountains. The same little clouds were balancing on the peaks; the sun caught the sides of the hills and set them aflame with the same gorgeous lire. Oliver fell a tingle run down his spine; this was still the most beautiful spot he had found in New Zealand, in spite of all his travel^ — and one of the supremely lovely places in the world. He would like to Jive here for always; in a house up on the side of the hills. Perhaps one day . . if Mary

Oliver stopped at a little house be hind a church; this must be Tanner’; He got out and banged on the door Tanner opened it. “Oliver! come in, my son!'’

Oliver followed him into a small room—a chaos of books, papers ami pipes—obviously the study.

Tanner settled Oliver into a deep chair and pushed a tin oi tobacco across the table.

‘‘And now, Oliver; what of it all?’ Oliver filled his pipe and considered At last he spoke.

“I haven’t finished yet. Tanner. So we won’t start our real talk to-day. L must have ad the facts 1 can get first. I haven’t been to Wellington yet; 1 haven’t come across any of the business community to sptfak of—l hope to find them in Wellington. But I’ll tell you of my adventures up-to-date.”

Tanner sat with closed eyes. As Oliver’s narrative proceeded his pipe went out but he made no attempt to relight it. The sun crept slowly behind the mountains but Oliver was still speaking. As he talked the people whom he had met rose again before his eyes; he saw their faces—heard once more the tones of their voices. He tried to give Tanner a true, impartial impression of all that he had seen and heard.

The room was almost in darkness when Oliver finished. Tanner rose slowly and turned on the light above his desk. “I said,” he observed quietly

‘that everyone was at sixes i sevens. It appears that 1 was righ

“In a way you were. But it seems to be a curious sort of sefishness, and it seems to be confirmed on the whole to national question. Heaps of pcop’.e seem to be unable to look at a national problem except from the point of view of what they’re going to gc-t out of it, and as each section expects to get different things, the result is that instead of people pulling together, they all pull different ways. But when it comes to the little things of life, their selfishness disappears and a kinder, more thoughtful, more unselfish people you couldn’t find anywhere. Perhaps it s just because distances are so great and the population so small that people have' have grown to take a parochial view instead of a national one?” “You may be right. You don’t seem to have come across any Communists? ” ‘ ‘ I haven’t.” “Then you should go to Wellington or down to Christchurch. You’ll find a few there.” ‘‘l was going to ask you about the South Island,’’ answered Oliver. “I must go down there.” “I don’t think that’s necessary. But I’ve an idea. I’m going to Christchurch myself next week. I’ve been invited to preach the Easter sermon in the cathedral on Easter Sunday. Why not come down then?” “I will. I’d like to hear you preach, Padre.” “You’ll like the cathedral. In the years to come it will have atmosphere about it.” There was a knock on the door. Tanner opened it. “Hullo; there’s a friend of yours here.” he Heard Tanner say. Tanner returned with old Mr. Marshal] at his heels. Oliver jumped up. “Hullo, Mr. Marshall, how arc you?” he exclaimed. “Sou probably won’t remember me, but—” “I remember ye well enough,” replied Marshall. ”1 don’t forget people He climbed up on Io a, chair. “Ami what, have you been up to, young man?” “He’s been touring the North Island,” said Tanner. “Touring, yes, that's about right. Wc couldn’t do no touring in my young days, not unless we toured with an axe in our hands to cut our way through. Things is too easy now, for everyone. What did I come for, now. Air. Tanner? . . . Oh 1 remember, J want a word with ye.’’ Oliver rose. “I must be off. I'm going in to Wellington to night. Good-bye, Mr. Marshall.” Mr. Marshall nodded affably. “And when ari» you coming to see me, young man? You promised, you know. ’ ’ “1 haven’t forgotten, Mr. Marshall. J 'l| come. Some time after next week. Tanner accompanied him to the door. “We’ll meet in Christchurch, then. Slay at the United Bunts Hotel. You’ll like it. 1 shall probably be staying with a friend but, I shall look you up there. Good night, Oliver- ami well done!’ ’ Labour Business. Oliver decided to present his one let ter of introduction. It was addressed to a Mr. Crabbe in Wellington. Mr. Crabbe gave Oliver a warm wel come and plied him with questions as to his doings. Oliver explained that he had just returned from a tour of the North Island as far as Auckland. “And how’s business with you?” he M-skcd presently.

“About as good as we can expect with this rotten Govornincut. ” * ‘ Rotten Government? ’ ’ •They don’t give a damn for anyone except the farmers. Jt’s farmers, farmers, farmers the whole time. Still, I suppose you can't expect anything el. e with a farmers’ Government.” Oliver suggested that the country’s recovery was dependent upon the recovery of the farmers. “In a way, of course. But there are 65,000 people engaged in industry as against 125,000 in farming and dairy work. That shows you how our secondary industries arc coming along. You can’t stop progress and progress means the industrialisation of the country. We haven’t got a fair deal from this Government, so let’s hope the Labour Barty will get a chance after the election! ’ ’ “You don’t, mean to say that you’re a supporter of the Labour Party?” asked Oliver in astonishment. “1 wasn’t but 1 am now.” “Dear me! Er .. . bank credits and so forth?’’ Mr. .Crabbe glared at him. “I don’t cate about their policy. They talk a lot of rubbish but they’ll be the same as any other party when they get there and as nothing will induce me to support this present Government again, I’ll vote Labour this time. ’ ’ ‘‘l see,” replied Oliver, “and in order to register a protest against this Government, you ’re prepared to vote for a party whose policy includes nationalisation and the complete socialisation of the country?” “Oh, they won’t do it when the time comes. ’ ’ “They’ll do it all right if enough people like you give them the chance,” said Oliver. Why Let Labour In? Oliver and Alary sat on a seat in Oriental Bay and looked across the harbour. A great liner was slipping silently to her berth. Far away in the distance rose the mountains behind which lay the Maungaroa Valley. Oliver discovered that Mary had never been there and started to describe •*H sounds lovely,” said Alary. “We'll go there one day, you and I.” “Very well,” smiled Mary. “Mary,” said Oliver suddenly. “I’m. nearing the end of my search. You’ve been so sympathetic and interested that I’d like you to be in at the finish.” “And what is the finish?” “I don’t know. Nothing very exciting I’m afraid. A couple of days in Christchurch and I shall have ended the task Tanner set me. I’m meeting him there to report, my findings. Of course, nothing will happen—nothing can happen; except talk.” “I’m coming,” said Alary. “ You will?’’ “1 will. You see. Oliver, I have a sort of feeling that something will happen, and 1 intend to be there. In any case I’ve got to go down to sec •Dr. Mclver.” ‘ ‘ Still the new party? ’ ’ “Still. I still think that to drop out of the fight because you are afraid of the other man winning is pure cowardice. ’ ’

“No, Mary, you’re wrong. If two people are fighting a duel and a third joins in to help his friend the odds are that he’ll only embarrass him. In the case of your party, the most you can do is "to trip up the Government and pave the way for a Labour victory. Surely it’s not worthwhile taking that risk is it?” “I think it would be cowardice to fall out,” repeated Alary stubbornly. “Any way, you’re coming to Christchurch to-night?” “Very well, to-night.” Oliver took her hand; she made no attempt to withdraw it. “I, too, feel that something's going to happen in Christchurch,” said Oliver. Can It Be Roused? As the good ship Rangitira passed through the heads in the twilight Mary went below. Oliver continued to gaze at the sea and at the dark shapes of the mountains beyond. He thought back over the events of the last few weeks; he thought of Air. Wilson, and the writer at Levin, and of the cricketers and of the men off to give their labour in their spare time to help in the building of a children’s home; a spirit like that couldn’t be very far below the surface. Bat how could it be roused? Who could do it? Oliver looked again at the dim outline of the mountains. “I will lift up min? eyes unto the hills whence cometh my help,” said Oliver. ‘I wonder. Yes, I wonder.” (To be continued).