Tears of the Moon (14 page)

Olivia calmed him. ‘No, I had good care. The women, the Aboriginal women, they looked after me.’

Conrad stared at her aghast, realising he had fired on these people.

Olivia touched his hand. ‘You’d better see to the horse, and I’ll put the pot on to boil. Don’t worry too much about the shot. I’m sure they’ll come back. Perhaps we can make amends with them in some way. Oh, I have so much to tell you.’

‘And I you,’ he said, suddenly feeling exhausted. ‘It is a miracle I am here. I really don’t know how we are going to forge our way back again. It is truly ugly country to travel through. This coming ashore was not a good idea.’

She pressed his hand. ‘Conrad dear, the
Lady Charlotte
… it has been wrecked. All are lost. We did make the right decision.’

He shuddered and held her close.

‘Don’t worry, Conrad,’ pleaded Olivia. ‘Just see the bright side—we have a son.’

Olivia returned to the beach and collected two fish that had been thrown onto the sand. She called out to the Aborigines. Even though there was no response of any kind, she felt sure they were watching.

Conrad led the horse to a patch of shade, tethered
it and contemplated the wagon stuck in the sand. He asked Olivia for some water and looked at the near empty barrel of water. ‘Maybe they can show us where we can find water. We will need this replenished for the journey.’

‘Conrad, stop worrying. Come and rest, the fish will be cooked soon. Now tell me. What is the town like?’

Conrad bit his Up. ‘A ramshackle place I’m afraid. Not what I expected, but we can get all the supplies we need. There are sheep arriving in a week or so on one of the trading vessels. I plan to buy some to start us off. I think we should set out as soon as you feel ready, my dear. I don’t think you’ll be too comfortable in Cossack, I mean, there are very few women and it’s a bit of a rough place.’

‘I understand. I’ll do what you think best, Conrad. You know, I’ve learned so much from these people. I do hope there are tribespeople close to our farm.’

Conrad stared at her in astonishment. He hadn’t anticipated sharing his land with the blacks. He didn’t want his precious stock stolen or hunted nor the fear of reprisals or attack at any time. ‘We’ll see.’ He smoothed the baby’s head. ‘He is a handsome child, Olivia.’

They exchanged their first relaxed smile. ‘Pick him up Conrad, he won’t break.’

Later, after their meal, Olivia walked to the sea to throw the fish bones into the water and to look for some shellfish. Conrad sat at the camp with his son in his lap, examining the small fingers and toes. Suddenly
a shadow fell across him. Looking up in surprise he saw three Aboriginal women staring at him. They had bemused expressions at seeing the man cradling the baby. They crouched before him, squatting down to touch the baby and point to Conrad’s face. When they started chattering in their own language, Conrad guessed he was being discussed and immediately felt uncomfortable and awkward. He tried to smile at them, and they broke out in laughter. When Olivia eventually appeared he was much relieved.

She took the baby and handed him to the women, who nodded with satisfaction, smiled and patted his round belly.

Conrad tried not to look at the swaying breasts of these women or the barely modest grass covering over their private parts. Some of them wore woven arm bands but they were, on the whole, totally unadorned and unclothed. But there was no mistaking the goodwill they exuded. He patted his son’s head, pointed to Olivia and then said carefully to the women, ‘Thank you.’

They laughed again and Olivia took Conrad’s hand and held it out to the oldest woman who had delivered the baby and joined their hands together. She understood the gesture and nodded solemnly. Then, picking up their string baskets and dilly bags, the women headed to the beach to collect the fish from the trap.

Conrad watched them and remarked, ‘Ingenious idea, that wall. Do you suppose we could get it across to them that we need to find fresh water?’

Olivia picked up the baby which had started to
whimper and began to loosen her camisole. ‘Take the empty barrel to them and show them the water that’s left. I’m sure they’ll understand. Their camp can’t be too far away.’

‘Yes, I’ll do that.’ Conrad turned his eyes away from Olivia’s exposed breast, fetched the water barrel and carried it along the beach to the women.

Olivia closed her eyes as the baby suckled contentedly, then as she changed the baby to the other breast she heard a footfall behind her and turned to see if Conrad had had success with the water and found instead she was staring up at the tall figure of Captain John Tyndall, the man from the schooner.

He coughed discreetly and averted his eyes as she pulled her top about her.

‘Oh excuse me,’ he said a little awkwardly. ‘I saw the smoke from the fire and realised you were still here, so thought I’d see if you were all right.’ He looked down at Olivia seated on the ground, her bare toes peeping out from the now ragged hem of her petticoats, the baby at her breast, her hair falling softly about her pretty face. Bedraggled though she was, it was a heartwarming picture. ‘I see you are doing very well. Congratulations. How did you cope with having the baby on your own?’

She gave him a hesitant smile. ‘I had help. The Aboriginal women were wonderful … they just came out of nowhere to help me.’

He nodded and refrained from mentioning his talk with the elders on his previous visit. ‘And your husband, what news?’

‘He arrived back this afternoon, he is looking for water with the women.’

Tyndall looked about the camp and saw the wagon further along the beach. ‘I’m amazed he made it through. I believe the country is very rugged.’

‘Yes, he says it’s going to be difficult returning with us all. He arrived and started shooting at the Aborigines, which was an unfortunate misunderstanding.’

‘He didn’t wound or kill anyone, did he?’ asked Tyndall, looking concerned. ‘He could find himself with a spear through his leg or worse. They have a payback system.’

‘Oh, dear me. No, no one was hurt. Do you suppose he is all right?’ Olivia peered anxiously towards the beach.

‘I’ll go see,’ he said, striding away.

The two men returned together a short time later deep in animated conversation. When they stopped to inspect the wagon, Olivia laid her sleeping baby down and went over to join them.

‘Hullo there, my dear,’ Conrad greeted her. ‘What a stroke of luck Captain Tyndall found us. Saw the smoke, he said.’

‘Did you find water?’

‘The women showed me a small spring, very fortunate.’

‘And we made our peace with the menfolk,’ added Tyndall.

‘He speaks their tongue,’ said Conrad, impressed.

John Tyndall turned to the wagon. ‘I doubt that horse and wagon will make the return trip,’ said the
Captain dubiously. ‘I suggest you allow me to carry you back to Cossack. My schooner could take you and your belongings, I believe.’

‘That’s a kind and generous offer,’ said Conrad, but Olivia looked worried. ‘Don’t you think so, Olivia?’

‘I don’t like the idea of going back to sea.’

‘Believe me, Mrs Hennessy, the seas have gone down and it will be a lot easier and quicker.’

‘Well, if Conrad agrees. That would be very kind of you.’

They were under way late the next morning after Ahmed had brought ashore food from the galley—a fish curry and some rice. That night she slept in a narrow berth in the cabin of the
Shamrock
which was cramped, hot and stuffy. She found herself almost pining for the rough tree and crude canvas shelter by the comforting light of her campfire and insect– repelling smudge fire.

The next day Olivia sat quietly on the deckhouse holding her son, who was yet to be named. Conrad stood beside John Tyndall at the helm while Ahmed, on the bowsprit, guided them through the mangrove–lined stretch of Butcher’s Inlet. They had brought what they could with them, leaving the rest at the campsite and releasing the horse into the scrub.

Out on the water, the heat sapped her energy almost immediately, hitting her like the blast from a fire. Jarman Island, four miles offshore, served the estuary as a breakwater and most ships sheltered here due to the near fifteen–feet tidal drop and passengers
and cargo were rowed ashore. However Tyndall and Ahmed sailed carefully but confidently into the creek and anchored at Deep Hole jetty on the opposite side of the creek to the township, where they could remain afloat.

Stepping ashore in Cossack, she felt too tired and dispirited to find anything positive about the bustling shanty town built on a strip of sand, surrounded by mangrove swamps and rocky hills. Several stone public buildings—the customs house and post office—gave some air of permanence but Olivia was disturbed to see a row of buildings with solid chains strung over the roofs and bolted into the ground around the foundations.

She glanced at Tyndall, who shrugged. ‘Willy willies—winds can get pretty high in a cyclone.’

Settling Conrad and Olivia in a sulky, Tyndall gave them a swift tour of Cossack while Ahmed loaded their belongings on a dray to take to Tyndall’s house.

The township crouched between two hills, Nanny–goat on the eastern side and Reader Head, a crag that overlooked the sea. From the south a cause-way ran through the mangroves to Roebourne. There was a wooden church and a couple of stores but by far the most active and colourful section was the Chinese quarter, also known as ‘Jap town’ which spread out towards the western boundary near the cemetery. They drove past the Chinese stores, the Indian tailor, a Japanese store, a Chinese bakery, a Turkish bath–house, opium dens and Japanese pleasure houses. Sly grog shops were plentiful and obvious. Some of the houses were little more than
humpies, while the Aborigines, he said, had set up their
mia-mias
further out on the edge of town.

Olivia thought that the people of differing races all seemed coarse and disreputable and she only saw two women, a tired–looking older European woman and a painted Japanese girl in garish kimono who swiftly disappeared into a dim house.

That evening after Olivia and Conrad were settled in Tyndall’s simple but functional house they talked over their plans for the immediate future.

Conrad wished to go to their land as soon as possible but worried about Olivia’s strength. ‘You should be resting, with someone caring for you and the child. But I am loathe to see us stay too long here. They say the wet season is horrendous and I was hoping we would be settled in our place before then.’

Olivia still felt a little weary from the birth and the voyage but she had no hesitation in agreeing to move forward. The prospect of staying in the seamy town didn’t appeal to her and, as hard as establishing their new home might be, it was preferable. ‘I think we should set out then, Conrad. You know, seeing how the Aboriginal women live has made me look at things differently. It’s hard to explain, but I got a sense that it’s better to be part of the country rather than trying to keep it apart from us. And I felt good being up and walking on the beach rather than lying in a dark room. So, I say let us go. I’ll try to pull my weight as best I can.’

He leaned over and kissed her forehead, feeling a deep love and pride. ‘You just care for yourself and the baby. One day I promise you’ll have a grand home and the beautiful garden you’ve always wanted.’

‘Let’s start with a roof over our heads first,’ smiled Olivia. ‘I wonder what the little cottage on the farm is like.’

Neither was prepared for the harsh reality that confronted them. The trek to the land they had bought was slow and difficult. A team of horses pulled their wagon along a sand and dirt track and, by following their rough and inadequate map, they eventually located the area they presumed to be their acreage. Some of the land was as described, and could hopefully carry sheep, but most was rough country. Thankfully, the permanent waterhole and creek were as marked.

The ‘cottage’ was built from slab timber and bark packed with a mud made from old termite colonies, with a hard dirt floor and a verandah front and back. Its galvanised iron roof was covered by a thick thatch of brush for coolness. Wooden shutters on greenhide hinges acted as windows for the two large rooms. A lean-to attached to the back had a fireplace with mudbrick chimney. Several pieces of rough hewn furniture remained and the hand of a woman was unmistakable—a dog rose rambled up one side of this sad looking home and brought a lump to Olivia’s throat. She plucked a flower and inhaled its delicate scent, wondering what had become of the family that had started here with such dreams and hopes. She looked about with sagging spirit and wondered if they would fare any better.

‘I suppose we can be glad squatters haven’t moved in,’ said Conrad, desperately trying to make some
light remark in the face of this shock. ‘It seems things are not quite as we were told in Fremantle.’

‘Well, we’d better do something before dark,’ said Olivia briskly, shifting the baby in her arms while trying to hide the disappointment and twinge of fear eating into her heart. Using her skirt, she attempted to wipe a thick layer of dust from a stool, and sat to feed the baby. Conrad went to the wagon to haul down the first of the supplies but instead rested his head against the load and closed his eyes in pain and frustration as he felt scalding tears burn against his lids.

A few days later, with the help of the two hired hands who arrived with another dray of gear, things were better organised and Olivia had even managed to prepare an evening meal of bully beef and damper and a simple pudding made with dried fruits and sugar. Roses in the centre of the rough table gave a festive air and the soft glow from the kerosene lantern disguised the harshness of their surroundings. The baby, now known as James, slept in his cradle close to Olivia’s feet.