Pearls (31 page)

'Of course.'

'There is one other condition.'

Dalziel recovered his poise. He studied George's face for clues. An excellent bridge partner, Dalziel remembered. His expression never gave anything away. 'Condition?'

George gazed out of the window at the brooding mangroves, the lugger skeletons decaying in the mud. 'Well not so much a condition. I'd like to think of it as a favour.'

'You just have to ask, George.'

'It's about Cameron McKenzie,' he said.

Chapter 52

Cameron kicked open the door of the bank. Several of the customers stepped back in alarm. He leaped the counter, a letter crumpled in his right fist. One of the ledger clerks jumped to his feet and tried to bar his way. Cameron pushed him back into his seat and went straight into Dalziel's office, slamming the door behind him.

Dalziel was behind his desk, examining a ledger book, his accountant leaning over his right shoulder. When he saw Cameron his face drained to the colour of chalk.

Cameron slammed the crumpled letter on the desk. 'What's this?'

'Mister McKenzie, you have no right-'

The accountant tried to slip past Cameron to the door. He rounded on him. 'You stay where you are!'

'If you wish to make an appointment to discuss this-'

'I've nae need to make an appointment, Dalziel. I'm here and we're discussing it. Now tell me what it means!'

'It's quite clear what it means. The bank is foreclosing on your loan.'

'Why?'

'It's bank policy-'

Cameron grabbed his tie and twisted the knot, choking him. 'Tell me one thing. Is this George Niland's doing?'

Dalziel made a squeaking sound, his eyes bulging. He didn't answer.

'Aye well, I guess that tells me all I need.' Cameron released him. 'You little bastard!'

He threw the letter in Dalziel's face and went out again, leaving the door yawning open behind him, customers and staff gaping at him.

No one moved for a moment and then a junior clerk put his head around the door. 'Would you like your cup of tea now, sir?' he said.

***

The Japanese Club had been built from corrugated tin and asbestos. Outside the front door hung a Seibe and Gorman diving helmet, the emblem of the Japanese stock in trade. The building housed a function room, an office and a sleeping room at the back for the Club Secretary.

Grainy black and white photographs of committees past and present adorned the walls. There was also a shrine to
Nakimiro-Fudo
, the god of the sea, revered by the men of Waikayama Prefecture, home to most of the Japanese in Broome.

The club served not only as a meeting place for the Japanese, but also a trade union, a symbol of their unity in a foreign land. It was precisely this unity that had enabled them to achieve their domination of the town's pearl industry. Unlike the Malays and the Koepangers and the Manilamen, they were a united force. They had even formed their own credit societies.

Much of the credit for their burgeoning power lay with Tanaka-san, one of the founding members and now Club Secretary.

Tanaka was the single most prosperous Asian in Broome now. Tanaka was banker, merchant and financial adviser to almost all the Japanese divers in Broome and there were even rumours that he owned his own pearling fleet, using veranda pearlers as a front. This was supposedly illegal - no foreign national could own a pearling licence - but everyone knew that the practice was widespread. Some whites bought or leased luggers with Japanese money and then allowed Japanese crew to sail them. Sometimes they received a share of the profits, more often they just got a yearly stipend and seldom even ventured down to the foreshore on the pretence of checking on their 'fleet'. Because so many genuine pearlers used Japanese crews the practice - known as 'dummying' - was almost impossible to prove or to police.

'I hear you have bad
joss
,' Tanaka said.

'Not bad
joss
, just bad blood.'

'Nilan'-san.'

'I cannae prove it, of course, but what else can a man think? Dalziel had nae other reason to do what he did.' Cameron finished his whisky and poured another. 'Is that why you came to see me, Mister Tanaka?'

'I have business proposal for you.'

'Oh aye?'

'So sorry, but I hear that bank take your lugger. Is true, Camran-san?'

'What do you propose?'

''Perhaps other man can buy boat. You sail as skipper, share profit. Let someone else do the worry.'

'What you're suggesting is illegal, Mister Tanaka.'

'I only say someone else
buy
boat. You still own boat.'

'I ken this was what you were up to. You're dummying, are you not?'

'No, no. Is against law.'

'Thank you for your offer, Mister Tanaka. I cannae do it.'

'If you do not, bank take
Roebuck
.'

'I have my pride. I said I would nae work for any other man, and I meant it.'

Tanaka was silent. He sipped his tea. 'Many years gone, you save my life. You remember?'

'Aye, I remember.'

'I dead now but for you. Now perhaps I pay back my debt.' '

'You paid your debt, when I came back to Broome. Do you nae remember?'

'Life worth more than just one boat.' Tanaka ran his stubby index finger across the gritty surface of the table, tracing a faint outline of the coast. 'Look. Barred Creek just here. Here - Malay boat. No licence. What will custom boat do if he find?'

'He'd confiscate all his shell and throw it over the side.'

'Yes, that is what he will do. I suppose.'

'You mean-'

'Mean nothing. Only think perhaps good for you to know. Always good to know some things others not know.'

'Yes, it is. Thank you, Mister Tanaka. Consider all debts repaid.

***

Eight years since Cameron had worn the uniform of a lieutenant in the Royal Navy. It reeked of mothballs and there were small holes at the back of the collar and on one sleeve where the insects had ravaged it. The gold braid on the cuffs was dirty and ragged.

Cameron slipped on the jacket and drew the lapels together. He buttoned it, and studied his reflection in the cracked dresser mirror.

He felt more than a little smug to discover that it still fitted him. In fact, he looked rather good in it, he thought. He grinned, then saw Rosie watching him from the bedroom doorway. 'Nae bad, eh, Rosie?'

'You're going to sea? You said you would wait until the baby was born.'

'This cannae wait. I'll be out and back before you know it.'

''You promised me, Cam.'

'If I dinnae do it, I'll lose the
Roebuck
.'

'Do what?';

'My friend Mister Tanaka has given me the chance to make myself some easy money and maybe get myself out of the hole. I have to do this.'

Rose nodded and went back to the kitchen. She knew it was pointless to argue. She was so afraid. Elvie had been such a difficult birth; they said the second was always easier. She hoped they were right.

Chapter 53

It was dawn, and a greasy light seeped into the bedroom through the cane window shades, leaving half the room in shadow. Rose, already awake, watched Cameron slip into his clothes, buttoning his flannel shirt and fastening the broad, brown leather belt with the money pouch, then tying the silk handkerchief at his throat.

'Rosie,' Cameron whispered. 'Are you awake, lass?'

'I'm awake.'

'I have to be going if we're to catch the morning tide.'

Rose pulled him towards her. He had not shaved and his chin scratched her cheek. She didn't care, she pulled his head to her breast, breathed in the warm, familiar scent of his hair and body. She was suddenly afraid.

'I have to go,' he said.

'I know, Cam.'

'Doctor Halloran's only half a mile away. And Elvie's here. You'll be all right.'

'I know.'

'We've nae money. I have to do this. I'll be back before you know it.'

'Don't forget to say goodbye to Elvie.'

He crept into Elvie's room, the boards creaking under his boots, he whispered a goodbye, heard Elvie's sleepy, murmured reply. He put his head around the door a final time. Cameron came back into the room. 'Rosie? Are you all right?'

'Hold me, Cam.'

He sat on the edge of the bed and she buried her face in his neck. She did not want to let him go, but she had to, or she would cry and make a fool of herself. She pushed him away.

'It's okay,' she whispered. 'Go now.'

'I love you, Rosie.'

'Just go.'

He picked up his canvas kit bag. She heard his boots crunch on the grit path and then he was gone.

Elvie appeared in the doorway, still mostly asleep. Rose held out her arms and she crawled into bed beside her. Rose wrapped her arms around her, grateful for another warm body close to hers.

***

They came up on the big Malay
prahu
on Scott's Reef, just before sunset. The Malay skipper hoisted sail but by the time he was under way Cameron was just a hundred yards off his stern. He abandoned his attempt to escape. There was only a light breeze and he must have realised that the
Roebuck
, with its auxiliary motor, could easily overhaul them.

Wes rolled his eyes when he saw a
kris
knife flash in the sun on the deck of the
prahu
.' Mebbe this ain't such a good idea, skip,' he said.

'Easy, Mister Redonda,' Cameron murmured. He took out his heavy Navy revolver and clambered over the side into the whaleboat. Wes and two of the Malay crewmen, Assan and Mahomet, took the oars.

A few minutes later they boarded the Malay poacher. The captain was a sullen yellow-eyed salt with brown tombstone teeth and a pearl-handled knife tucked into his sarong. His crew huddled behind him,
kris
knives tucked into their sarongs.

A huge pile of shell littered the deck. They must have been fishing here for a week, he thought, perhaps more. The shell was good size and quality. Worth risking a
kris
knife, especially with the
Roebuck
at stake.

Cameron turned to Assan. 'Tell the captain I am an officer in the Royal Australian Navy. Tell him he is fishing illegally in Australian waters.'

Assan relayed this information to the captain who shrugged his shoulders as if the matter could not be of less interest. He barked something back in Malay.

'What did he say?'

'He say he is sorry. He think he still in Malaya.'

Cameron pointed to the coast a mile away to the east, at the long white beach and the scrubby flat bush beyond. 'Does that look like jungle to him?'

The captain smirked and shrugged his shoulders again.

Cameron turned back to Hassan. 'Tell him we are confiscating his shell. Tell him he must throw it all over the side and leave Australian waters immediately.'

Assan repeated this in Malay and a ripple of angry whispers passed among the crew. In response Cameron took the revolver from its holster and took off the safety.

'Mebbe you have to use that pretty soon,' Wes whispered.

'I'd like tae, Wes, but I dinnae have any ammunition.'

'Jay-sus!'

The captain started shouting and gesticulating wildly.

'What's he saying?'

'Boss, he say he not let you take all his shell. He say you cannot make him throw it away.'

'Is that what he believes?' Cameron turned to the other two men. 'Wes, Mahomet, throw that shell in the water!'

They hesitated.

'Do it!'

Wes picked up an armful of shell, went to the port side and dumped it into the sea.

Immediately the captain raced made for him, drawing his
kris
. But Cameron was ready for him. He brought his revolver down on the man's wrist. The man's wrist snapped with a loud crack. He man screamed, high-pitched, and dropped the
kris
on the deck. Mahomet snatched it up, relieved to finally have a weapon.

The crew hesitated. One of them put his hand on the knife at his waist but took it away again when Cameron pointed the revolver at his head. Please God, don't call my bluff, Cameron thought.