Pearls (15 page)

He picked up his newspaper but he couldn't concentrate. He finished his gin, had Kendo fetch his hat and cane, then walked into town to cable his bank.

Chapter 23

Cameron rose naked from the bed. He lit a cigarette and offered one to Rosie. She felt him watching her and she pulled up the sheet, embarrassed.

'Now that's a strange thing to do right now, Rosie. Do you think I did it with my eyes closed?'

'It makes me uncomfortable. I think you're picking out all the faults.'

'You have nae got any faults. You're as slim as a nymph and the shape of you would make a bishop kick a hole in a stained glass window.' He pulled back the sheet. 'I do nae like to see so much beauty covered up. It's nae right.'

Rose folded her arms across her breasts anyway and drew up her knees. 'I've never had any man talk to me like you do.'

Cameron grinned. 'Do you mind?'

Rosie smiled in spite of herself. No, she didn't mind at all. 'Sometimes,' she said.

Cameron started to dress. 'How much do you charge, Rosie?'

'That's none of your business.'

'I'm a customer, lass.'

Rosie glared at him. 'You know you're not. Don't say that. I do it because ... because I want to.'

Cameron slipped his shirt over his head and sat down on the edge of the bed. He reached out to stroke an errant lock of hair away from her cheek. She twisted away from him.

'You're not a customer,' she repeated.

'Aye, well, tell me anyway. I'm interested.'

Rosie pulled the sheet up under her chin. 'Ten shillings.'

'Ten shillings! That's nae enough!'

'It's more than I get working a whole day in the bar!'

'A pound at least. And five for the ugly ones!'

'I don't go with ugly men. What sort of girl do you think I am?'

Cameron laughed again. He pulled on his boots and stood up, tucking his white shirt into his trousers. 'You're a beautiful looking woman Rosie Taylor. Nae, I mean it. You've got the face of an angel and the rest of you ... well, I dare say the Almighty would nae give an angel a body like yours. Heaven would be empty in nae time. A pound and not a penny less. You're spoiling these heathen.'

Rosie looked away. There was a lump in her throat. Cameron had the knack of making her feel like a queen; then he would tip his hat, grin and walk away.

Rosie hadn't planned on doing this when she first came up to Broome and went to work at the Continental Hotel. But men being what they were, they often dropped more coins in her jar than was necessary, before whispering some lewd proposition to her. She had slapped the first few round the face, as her mother would have told her to do. But a girl had to live and she thought, well as long as I can pick and choose, what's the harm? Now she was making more money in a month than her mother ever made in a year of working below stairs as a scullery maid in London.

It was easy to live with shame when there were only strangers to witness it.

Cameron slipped a panama on his head and turned to leave. 'Don't forget, a pound,' he said, and walked out.

Rosie swung her legs over the side of the bed. There was a ten pound note on the bedside table. He had scribbled across it: Merry Christmas!

She crumpled it in her fist.

Cameron!

***

The Canton boarding house was in Bitter Moon Lane, next to a barbershop. Cameron passed two Chinese in black pyjamas on the wooden stairs, their wooden slippers clop-clopping as they went.

Simeon's room was on the second floor. Cameron rapped on the door and Simeon opened it, dressed only in white shorts and singlet. When he saw Cameron he took a step back, startled.

'Hello, boss.'

'Mister Espada. May I step inside for a moment?'

'Sure, boss.'

Cameron closed the door behind him. The room smelled of sweat and boiled cabbage from the cookshop across the lane. Chevrons of light from the shutters angled across the dusty floorboards and an unmade bed. 'How are you feeling?'

Simeon put a hand to his battered face. 'Bruises almost gone now.'

'Aye. You have a new profile, by the looks of things.'

'You saved my life,' Simeon said. 'Wes told me what you did, boss.'

'Aye, well, I never lost a man yet and I never intend to.' He reached into his pocket and produced a large envelope. 'Here's the money for your lay.'

Simeon took the envelope and looked inside. 'It's too much,' he blurted.

'Aye, well, the doctors say you'll nae be able to dive again. Maybe this will help you when you get home.'

Simeon stared at the envelope. The white boss had saved his life and now he was giving him money. And there was his pearl lying just a few feet away, hidden in his mattress.

He held out the envelope. 'Can't take this, boss.'

'Aye, you can. It's Christmas, man. If you're still in Broome come the season, Mister Espada, come and see me and maybe I can find you a job as crew.'

He turned and left.

Simeon slumped onto the edge of his bed, staring at the money. He let the notes slip from his fingers and spill on the floor.

Well, too late for his conscience now. He had the pearl, and he wasn't going to give it back.

Chapter 24

Henry Lacey was shown into George Niland's office by one of the clerks. George looked up from his papers and nodded towards a chair. Lacey sat down and waited.

Finally George put down his pen. He called to the aboriginal boy outside the window to start the
punkah
. The air was thick, like moist treacle, and the faint movement of air was small relief. Tiny blisters of sweat formed on George's forehead and he patted them away with his handkerchief.

'What can I do for you, Lacey?'

'I've got some information for you, Mister Niland. I thought you might be interested.'

'Go on.'

'Well, there's a big snide in town.'

George raised an eyebrow. 'Who has it?'

'One of my Manilaman divers. Or he used to be one of mine. Name of Espada.'

'How did you find out about this?'

'He was bragging about it. My daughter ... overheard him.'

George pulled on his wispy blond moustache. Finally he took his chequebook from his drawer and picked up his pen. He wrote out a cheque and handed it to Lacey. 'The usual fee.'

Lacey blew on the ink and folded the cheque carefully in his pocket. He stood up to leave. He detested George Niland and his fancy airs and he could never get out of the big office fast enough. Still, his money was as good as anyone's.

'Not a word please, Lacey. This is private business.'

'Yes, Mister Niland,' Lacey said. Why would he tell anyone Niland was buying snides? He wasn't going to kill the goose.

***

Later that afternoon a Chinese called Huey Fong was ushered into George Niland's office. He was a squat, ugly man with hooded eyes and bad teeth. He wriggled on the hard, wooden chair, his eyes darting nervously around the room.

'Do you know who I am?' George said.

Huey nodded.

'You were one of Lacey's divers, weren't you?'

'I got the diver's paralysis, boss. In my leg.'

'Yes, I know, quite a bad limp. I understand you can't dive anymore.'

'No, boss. That's right.'

'There are other ways to get pearls, Fong.'

'Boss?'

'You don't just find pearls underwater. Do you know a man named Simeon Espada?'

'Yes, boss. I know him.'

''Is he a friend?'

Huey squirmed again. 'Maybe,' Huey said, finally.

George leaned forward, his elbows resting on the desk. 'Some men say you can't put a price on friendship. What do you think, Fong?'

***

Simeon lay sprawled face down on his cot, drunk and snoring. He did not hear Huey Fong prised open the flimsy lock on his door. A shaft of light illuminated the room very briefly before Huey closed the shuttered door behind him again.

Holding the jemmy above his head, Huey crept over to the bed and hit Simeon on the back of the head. The sleeping figure jerked and the snoring stopped abruptly.

Huey set to work. Not much to search; a flimsy chest of drawers, half eaten through by white ants, the sailor's trunk in the corner. Nothing there.

He tipped Simeon onto the floor and tore at the bedding. He found a hole in the mattress, shoved two fingers inside and found a red cotton handkerchief stuffed into the kapok. He pulled it and the pearl fell out onto the floor.

He held it up to the light and sighed. Biggest pearl he had ever seen! He looked at Simeon, his body crumpled on the floor, limbs all twisted. He hoped he hadn't killed him. Still, a man loses a pearl like this, he'd wish he was dead. He laid a hand on his chest. No, still breathing.

Shame for him. When he woke up he would be just another poor, crippled diver. Broome had its share. But that couldn't be helped, the pearl was too good for the likes of him anyway. He would only have let some white man cheat him out of it.

Chapter 25

Simeon opened his eyes. A cockroach scuttled across the wooden floorboards, just in front of his face. Holy Mother of God. Where am I? He tried to remember what had happened the night before. He remembered he'd had a few drinks at the Bosuns Regret. Perhaps he hadn't managed to make it as far as the bed.

He tried to get up, and the world started to spin. He vomited painfully on the floor, retching until there was only bile in his stomach.

His body felt as if it was covered in cold grease and his head felt twice its size. He put his fingers gingerly to the back of his scalp. There was a lump there, the size of an oyster shell. He must have fallen over last night. No wonder he felt so ill.

He clung to the edge of his bed. The acid stench of his vomit was overpowering. What a mess.

By the Holy Virgin.

There was something wrong.

He looked around the room. The drawers from the chest were scattered on the floor and his clothes had been throw around the room. The lock on his door was smashed and it was hanging half open.

'My pearl,' he said and turned and saw the hole in his mattress. It had been ripped open with a knife and the kapok was everywhere. He plunged his fist into the mattress, knowing it was hopeless.

It was gone.

Simeon staggered into the corridor. Two old Malays, Ri and Mahmud, were on the stairs, smoking. They were crew on the
Roebuck
and their rooms were on the same floor as his.

He grabbed Ri by the throat. 'Where is it?' he screamed at him.

Mahmud jumped to his feet, too startled to do anything. Ri was making horrible noises and grabbing at the fingers around his throat. Simeon pushed him away and grabbed Mahmud instead, dragging him down the stairs by his shirt.

'Where is it? What have you done with it?'

Billy Ng, the owner of the
Canton
was standing in the hall, peering up at this commotion through the balustrades. 'What name?' he shouted in his hacking, high-pitched voice. 'What name you? Who fighting up there?'

Simeon was sitting on Mahmud's chest, pummelling him about the head with his fists. Old Ri stumbled downstairs clutching at his throat. 'Get Sergeant Clarke quick time!' rasped at Billy. 'Simeon too much humbug! He for killim Mahmud finish!'

Billy ran out of the door.

Huey Fong ran out of his room on the second floor and wrestled Simeon off the old Malay just in time. Mahmud looked half dead.

***

Huey Fong watched Sergeant Clarke and his two constables lead Simeon away. He was struggling and screaming threats at everyone. Huey went back to his room and put on a clean white singlet and trousers. Then he walked down Bitter Moon Lane to Dampier Terrace towards the Niland and Company offices.

George Niland did not keep him waiting. He was ushered into the main office immediately on his arrival. Like an important man.

As the door shut behind him George Niland held out his hand. 'You found it?'

Huey smiled and handed George a matchbox from the deep pockets of his shorts. 'Right here, boss.'

George peered inside and whistled softly, then he went to the safe and slipped the matchbox inside. He went back to his desk and took out his cheque book. 'Well done, Mister Fong.' He wrote out the cheque and handed it to him. 'I believe you will find that more than adequate compensation for your services ...'