Tears of the Moon (39 page)

‘Always the optimist, aren’t you? Well, figure out where we’re going to send the boats next season.’

‘This season isn’t over yet. Perhaps we should take two of the luggers and do a little exploring.’

Tyndall and Olivia took the
Shamrock
, with Ahmed on the
Bulan
. The fewer who knew where they were going, the better.

They sailed north to King Sound. The waters were so turbulent that it didn’t surprise Olivia when Tyndall told her few boats ventured into this area off the entrance to the Sound.

They had brought Yoshi to dive with Ahmed on the
Bulan
and Taki to act as tender for Tyndall on the
Shamrock
.

Tyndall’s first drift over the seabed produced nothing and he signalled the boat to move on. An hour later in deeper water and descending to thirty fathoms, Tyndall still had no luck. Finally, he signalled to them to bring him up. This was a long, slow process as he had to be staged, resting at intervals on his ascent, hanging on to his lifeline, impatiently waiting, in order to prevent bubbles of nitrogen entering tissues of the body and causing excruciating pain known as ‘the bends’.

After they had raised him out of the water, he collapsed on the deck. When his helmet and boots were removed, he moaned, ‘What a damned waste of time. Absolutely nothing.’

‘What’s wiped out the shell?’

‘Not what, Olivia, but who. Poachers it seems.’

‘Do you suppose Ahmed and Yoshi are having any better luck?’

‘Let’s go see.’

They sailed close to the
Bulan
and called across to Ahmed who shook his head and gave a thumbs-down.

In the morning the two boats set off and headed out towards Adele Island to try their luck in completely new grounds.

Late the following day the crewman on watch called their attention to a smudge on the horizon. They changed course to port and sailed towards the small island. From a distance it appeared rocky and barren, but on the seaward side they found an inlet and a narrow strip of beach.

‘Look at the palms, it’s quite tropical, and there’s smoke inland a bit,’ said Olivia, handing the eyeglass to Tyndall.

He accepted the glass and, scanning the island, remarked with curiosity, ‘According to the map the island is “uninhabited”.’

The boats slipped in and moored off the beach as the day faded. Ahmed and Yoshi rowed alongside and Tyndall climbed into the dinghy.

They pulled the dinghy onto the shore and made their way into the trees following a well-worn track. Ahmed nudged Tyndall and tapped his nose. Tyndall could smell cooking, too, and soon they could see firelight and hear the noise of a small community.

Long thatched bungalows stood next to stone and wood buildings. Next to several fireplaces, there was
an open communal eating area sheltered by a roof supported on poles. Several Aboriginal women were tending food at the fireplaces. One of the bungalows had wooden doors and Tyndall saw the metal bolt on it was padlocked. Some Aborigines were sharpening tools and cleaning several large tortoise shells.

An elderly Aborigine straightened up and stared at them as the little party walked into the clearing. He responded to Tyndall’s greeting with ‘G’day boss’.

The women melted into the background as the men gathered around, curious and friendly.

Tyndall and Ahmed were trying to find out what the unexpected settlement was all about when the crowd parted and a solid middle-aged man dressed in tattered cut-off trousers and cotton undershirt came forward. Despite his bare feet and casual attire he presented a figure of authority. He beamed and announced, ‘Father Anders. Welcome to our mission.’ His booming voice had a thick Dutch accent.

‘Mission? This is a mission?’ Tyndall tried not to look disbelieving. ‘Way out here?’

‘It is a leper mission. The people you see here are relatives and, er, helpers to those afflicted,’ explained Anders. ‘They are in a special area,’ he added as Ahmed and Tyndall glanced around.

‘I see. Do you have help, and what about supplies? The wood and water trains don’t come out here, I imagine,’ commented Tyndall, referring to the boats that supplied the fleets.

‘We look after ourselves,’ replied the Dutchman enigmatically. ‘We have our own boats, there’s a safe
harbour round the point. I assume you came via the beach.’

Tyndall nodded. ‘We’ll moor for the night and if we could avail ourselves of some fresh water, maybe a coconut or two … we’d be grateful.’

Father Anders smiled and gestured with both hands. ‘Whatever we have, the Lord wishes us to share.’

‘We’ll be back in the morning then.’ Tyndall shook the Dutchman’s hand and they headed back to the beach.

‘What do you think, Ahmed? I don’t think our Dutch friend is a priest or do-gooder at all. Didn’t trust him for a minute.’

‘Why they lock up bungalows? What they got in them?’

‘I think we should look at their little harbour.’

The three of them set off, scrambling through the fringe of tropical growth and over a small headland. In the rising moonlight they could see the opening to a calm inlet. Several luggers and a ketch were moored. Dinghies and canoes were pulled up on the beach and the boats looked deserted.

‘Me go and check ’em out, eh, tuan?’ offered Ahmed.

Tyndall hesitated, he and Yoshi would arouse suspicion. Another Malay might not. He nodded.

Ahmed chose a small dinghy and rowed silently to the boats, studying them closely. Then to their surprise, he tied a rope to the ketch and climbed on board. They saw him crouch on the deck and lift a hatch cover.

As silently as he’d left he was quickly back on the shore and they stood back amongst the trees.

‘The hold is filled with shells, tortoise and pearl shell,’ Ahmed reported.

‘I can guess where they’ve been getting the shell,’ muttered Tyndall.

‘This poacher’s place. No mission. What we do, tuan?’

‘Leave quietly and report them later. The boats are clearly from the Indies. Dutch-owned, I’d say. And the natives no doubt have been blackbirded—slave labour.’

But as they moved through the trees, Yoshi, who was bringing up the rear, gave a small shout. The others turned around quickly to find one of the Malays they’d seen at the mission tugging at Yoshi’s arm.

The man spoke quickly. ‘Please, help me get away from this place. I want to leave, go back to my wife and children. They bring me here and I can’t escape.’

Ahmed asked rapid questions and the man told them he was hired to work as crew on one of the Dutch boats, but had been brought here with other Koepangers and Aborigines against their will and could not leave. He told them the Dutch priest was actually a ship’s captain who had established this base for poaching. It was known that many of the Malay islands were used as piracy bases for gun running, spoils of poaching and blackbirding.

Tyndall and Ahmed conferred quickly, and agreed to take the man with them. With some urgency, they hurried to the darkened beach.

When they reached the sand, they found a reception committee waiting for them. Tyndall let out a cry of rage when he saw who was in charge of the small group—Karl Gunther.

Tyndall sprang at him, catching him by surprise, attempting to throttle the squat and powerfully built man. The men around them fell on the two men, wrenching them apart and the two groups, now all brandishing knives and pistols, held back their two leaders.

‘Where is she?’ shouted Tyndall. ‘What have you done with her?’

Gunther, dazed for a moment, didn’t register what Tyndall had asked him.

‘How did you find us here? Who told you to come here?’

‘No one! This is a happy accident, Gunther! Now, where is Niah?’

Comprehension dawned on the hawk-like features of the swarthy German. ‘She’s gone. I did nothing. She dived from my boat. Kaput. Sharks get her.’

Tyndall went limp, suspecting that Gunther was telling the truth. ‘And why would she leap overboard … to get away from you.’ His anger resurged and he made another lunge but was held back by Yoshi and Ahmed on either side. Ahmed held Tyndall’s arm with one hand and his kris with the other.

Gunther took a step forward. ‘You can’t leave here. We’d better visit Anders.’

‘Don’t be mad, Gunther. No matter what you do to us, our crew will sail straight to the authorities. Better you let us go.’

‘Why should I do that—’ Before he could finish the sentence, a pistol cracked and a bullet sprayed sand beside his feet, causing him to leap backwards. The shot came from the trees and two more rang out in quick succession, sending up tufts of sand between the two men. Gunther and his three men turned and fled into the trees, dragging the Malay with them.

Taki and Olivia emerged from the trees and ran across the sand. Olivia was carrying the pistol.

‘John, are you all right?’ she called in a frightened voice.

They fell into each other’s arms. ‘Yes, no harm done, but it looked nasty for a minute. Good Lord, you could have shot any of us,’ he exclaimed.

‘I aimed low,’ she said, grinning. ‘Well, say thanks.’

Tyndall laughed, hugged her quickly and led everyone back to the dinghies on the beach.

‘Whatever made you come ashore, and with a pistol?’ he asked as he rowed back to the two boats.

‘You seemed to be gone so long, and it was getting dark, and something told me to do it.’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘Don’t ask me what or why. Just one of those things. We had no sooner reached the trees when Gunther and his mob turned up, so we waited and watched.’

The last of the fading breeze got them safely out to sea and, in the distance, they could see the flame torches on the beach, and heard the reverberation of a shot, probably fired in frustration.

As they drifted into the night, Tyndall told Olivia of the encounter with Gunther and of Niah’s fate.

Olivia took his hand as he choked up. ‘I’m so sorry for you, John. It’s a terrible thing. Can the police do anything? We’ll have to tell them.’

‘No, there’s no point, there’s no evidence that will stand up and there’ll certainly be no evidence here within a few days, you can be sure of that.’

Minnie was quiet and said little when Olivia relayed the news of Niah’s death at sea.

‘I worry about little Maya, out there. She hasn’t lead that sort of life. Will she be all right?’ Olivia asked.

‘She learn quick. They look after her.’

‘Will they bring her back, Minnie? Tyndall is her father after all.’

‘She know her story when she bigger. Maya decide that.’

‘It doesn’t seem fair. But at least she is with family. I imagine the poor little thing is missing her mother though.’

‘Niah my family too.’

Seeing Minnie’s sad face, Olivia spoke gently, ‘Don’t blame yourself, Minnie. You did what you thought best for them both.’ Then it dawned on her that Maya must be remotely related to Minnie too. The complex family connections of Aborigines were confusing, but maybe it meant that there would be some hope that Maya would be returned to Tyndall one day.

Eventually a steamer arrived with mail that included a letter from Monsieur Barat. It elaborated on a
cryptic cable which had arrived months earlier, indicating that a satisfactory sale had been achieved.

The ‘Star of the Sea’ pearl cluster had been sold for a record price to an Indian prince. The flamboyant prince, well known in London society, had no objection to publicity and the purchase had been written up in the London newspapers. Accompanying photographs showed the lavishly dressed prince, music hall chanteuse and actress on either arm; the pearls still on the shell which the prince was sending to Tiffany’s to be made into a brooch; and, supplied by Monsieur Barat, a photograph of Captain John Tyndall, ‘the dashing pearling master of Broome, Australia’ who made the fabulous find.

Having discussed what to do with this sudden wealth, Olivia and Tyndall chose to plough the bulk of the money into the business, but Olivia decided to put some aside to buy a house in Fremantle as an investment. Tyndall announced he was going to build a new house on a hill overlooking the sea, not far from the foreshore camp.

Some weeks later when he unrolled the blueprint on Olivia’s verandah, she was flabbergasted.

‘It’s a bit of a palace, isn’t it, John. I mean, it’s so large and the garden rambles everywhere, though I love the terraces. It will have a great view to the bay from the front verandah.’

‘You can watch for the fleet coming in,’ he said shyly.

‘From your house?’ She gave him a puzzled look.

‘Well, yes, Olivia, I was rather thinking it would be your house, too.’

Her heart did a flip-flop and she caught her breath, then gave a teasing smile. ‘Are you asking me to formalise our relationship?’

‘Formalise our relationship?’ he repeated in astonishment, missing the humour in her voice. ‘I’m asking you to marry me.’ His tone made it more of an explanation than a question. ‘I’ve always loved you, Olivia. Since the moment I first saw you on the beach. I never thought there would be a chance for me, and I was content to be close to you. I loved working beside you and thought you were an extraordinary woman. But these past months, since we have come together … I can’t bear having to hide my feelings and not being able to be with you, all the time, has made me realise … ’