Tears of the Moon (16 page)

They were all sitting in a Malacca cane lounge on the verandah of Tyndall’s house in the cool of an early
evening, the men drinking a fine label of whisky from Tyndall’s bar, Olivia enjoying a lemonade.

‘The best time of day in these parts,’ Tyndall assured them. ‘Ideal for a relaxed look at the world and to marvel at the opportunities it offers us. Cheers,’ he said, raising his glass to the Hennessys. ‘Now about the deal—here’s how I see it. I have the plan and a few assets, but not much ready cash. You have some capital and need a project that offers better prospects than chasing scrubbers and starving sheep all over the outback. And I need a good business head running things on shore. Have I missed anything?’

Conrad nodded. ‘No, that about sums it up.’

‘Right. We go fifty–fifty in the profits. We’ll need most of your capital for the lugger. We aren’t deep– sea pearling to start with, so we can use the schooner, and the cyclone season won’t be a problem for a while. By the way, we’ll have to move to Broome. That’s the heart of the pearling industry these days.’

Conrad fussed with his glass.

John Tyndall was addressing him, for it was the man who made these decisions. But he was uncomfortable about making such a radical change and also the fact that most of their capital had come from Olivia’s inheritance after she sold her late father’s business. It had been her idea to come to Australia. She had read about fortunes made by luck and hard work, and she thirsted for something new and challenging in her life. A childhood dream of adventure, to not be like the other women she knew, had
seemed just a dream. But with the early demise of her widowed father and with few ties left to England, an opportunity had presented itself and she had finally convinced Conrad they must seize it.

He took a sip of his drink. ‘It sounds a bit risky, but then that may be because I know absolutely nothing about pearling. It would mean sinking all that we have left into the enterprise.’ He sounded unsure of himself and unwilling to take the decisive step of commitment.

Tyndall rose. ‘I’ll take a turn around the garden. You must want to talk in private, please do so.’ He strolled down the wooden steps into a far corner of the sparse garden to a frangipani tree and began picking some blooms.

Before Conrad could speak Olivia whispered firmly, ‘Do it, Conrad.’ The decisiveness, the determination in her voice stunned Conrad. He was not used to such a reaction from his young wife. ‘But we know so little about him, even though he has been extremely good to us. He has been trading the coast for some time but is new to pearling. Though he does seem to be reasonably respected hereabouts.’

‘Frankly, I don’t think we have a choice but my instinct tells me we should join forces with him. As for being respected, anyone who is sober and owns a decent pair of shoes is regarded as respectable in this town. But I must admit, there is something about him that gives me confidence. Don’t ask me what it is.’

Conrad’s uncertainty dissolved in the face of his wife’s attitude to the venture, an attitude he felt
revealed a recklessness that he had never seen. Trying to sound confident and comforting, he put an arm around her. ‘Then the answer is yes. We’ll throw our lot in with him. I just hope I can contribute as much as he expects in the on–shore operation.’

‘Of course you will, dear,’ said Olivia, taking his hand. ‘But just one thing I want you to mention to him … I want to be part of this venture as well.’

‘What do you mean?’ Conrad was genuinely puzzled. ‘You are an investor, it’s your money too, my dear.’

‘I mean work … I want to work in the business. Help in the office or something.’ Her voice then crumbled a little, and a vulnerable young woman now replaced the reckless decision–maker of moments ago. ‘I need something desperately, Conrad. An interest would help me.’ She paused and went on. ‘Help me … cope.’

‘Yes, my dear. I’ll mention it.’ He squeezed her hand then rose and went into the garden and talked with Tyndall, both of them lighting their pipes as they leaned on the picket fence beside the dusty road. Soon they shook hands and returned to the verandah.

‘It’s a deal then,’ announced Tyndall buoyantly, leaping up the steps. ‘Welcome aboard. And for you, Mrs Hennessy, some flowers to mark the occasion.’ With a dramatic flourish he offered a small branch smothered in frangipani blooms. ‘Mind the sap,’ he added and Olivia laughed.

‘Thank you, kind sir,’ she responded with exaggerated politeness.

After Tyndall had left she sat alone on the verandah with the flowers in her lap while Conrad got dressed for dinner. When he came looking for her she was quietly weeping.

‘My dearest, you are having regrets?’

‘Not about business. About James. Oh, Conrad,’ she sobbed. ‘Our beautiful son. The horror of it. Will we ever recover?’

‘Olivia dear, I understand how you feel. This will be a new start for us.’

He took her in his arms and held her tightly for a long time.

At sea Conrad was uncomfortable and awkward and hoped his duties wouldn’t involve too many sea-going activities. Tyndall had assured him he would be running matters ashore, but that wouldn’t be until they had a crew and their first haul.

‘But while we are at sea,’ Tyndall had said, ‘you can make some business enquiries about the place, Conrad. We need to know who is trustworthy when it comes to prices and shipments, who is the best pearl cleaner and who are the best buyers.’

It all sounded foreign to Conrad but he nodded and said he’d do his best. He still found it hard to adjust to Tyndall’s seemingly haphazard and cavalier attitude to life and business.

The lugger raced across the sea as a stiff breeze filled the sails and Tyndall and Ahmed nodded to each other. ‘I think we’ve got ourselves a decent boat, Conrad,’ called Tyndall. ‘Now we have to negotiate a deal.’

‘What happened to the fellow who owned this?’ asked Conrad, wondering why the owner was no longer in the pearling business.

‘Shark took his leg. He’s staying ashore nowadays. Has no use for the
Bulan
so we’ll make him an offer he can’t refuse,’ grinned Tyndall.

‘What does the name mean, Ahmed?’ Conrad asked the silent Malay who was tending to some ropes. He found Tyndall’s shadow a bit unnerving. The little Malay seemed to be quite languid most of the time, but his dark inscrutable eyes never rested. He missed nothing. He seemed to anticipate every move of his master, and the two of them appeared to communicate so much of the time with subtle gestures and looks. His devotion to Tyndall was clear, but Tyndall’s regard for the skills of the Malay was also obvious. They made an effective team but Conrad couldn’t help thinking of the little brown man as a servant and bodyguard. The silver kris he usually carried in an ornamental wooden sheath in the waistband of his sarong enhanced the bodyguard image.

Looks like a bloody pirate, thought Conrad. Wouldn’t like to cross him.

‘
Bulan
means moon, tuan,’ answered Ahmed. ‘Bad luck to change a boat’s name,’ he added firmly, just in case Conrad had any such thoughts.

The inference irked Conrad and again he felt the unease that came from contact with Asians and Aborigines. Conrad knew he was of superior race and standing, yet he felt vaguely threatened and insecure. Strange, he thought, that Olivia seemed quite at
ease with the coloured people. He rationalised that her experience with the natives at the birth of their child must have something to do with it.

Tyndall spent some time with the one–legged owner of the lugger to settle on a price. Tyndall and Conrad then signed the papers and handed over the money. They strode enthusiastically up the street to register the change of ownership, and Tyndall slapped Conrad on the back. ‘We got a bonus as well, he has an old office down by the wharf in Broome, says we can use it. He never goes there. Spends his time in the brothels and the pubs.’

Conrad rushed back to break the news to Olivia. ‘We got it at a bargain price,’ he gushed. ‘By God, that Tyndall is a card. Drank the best part of a whole bottle of whisky with the old fellow before getting down to details of the deal. Talked about everything from pearls to the Pope.’

Olivia laughed. ‘I think you had a fair share of the whisky as well. So, now we are pearlers. Hard to believe it’s real, don’t you think?’

Conrad gave her an effusive hug. ‘It’s real, by jove. At last I’m beginning to feel good about this country.’

On arrival in Broome, Olivia and Conrad rented a bungalow in Walcott Street from the Bateman family, who ran a general agency business and usually rented the house to French pearl buyers who came to town for three months of every year. Tyndall rented a smaller cottage close by the seafront on Hamersley Street, owned by a Chinese merchant.

He wasted no time in making the rounds of the hotels, back street drinking dens and boarding houses used by the polyglot collection of men from Asia and the Pacific who worked the pearling fleets. Because the season was almost over, some crews had already been laid off so he had no trouble finding several hands with good credentials. Before signing up the men, Ahmed was able to check the credentials of all of them with their fellow countrymen working on the fleet.

Broome was an extraordinary place and Olivia was enchanted by its boisterous, bustling atmosphere and air of derring–do. Even conservative Conrad admitted that it had a certain colonial charm and projected a sense of excitement.

It was home port for several hundred pearling luggers collecting mother–of–pearl shell used mainly for the buttons in clothing manufacture all over the world. Any pearls found represented a bonus—a little for the crew, a lot for the pearling master. In season and during the lay up months, the town was alive with stories, more often rumours, of pearls found, prices fetched, deals done. Shrewd dealers in pearls came from Paris, London, New York, Singapore, Hong Kong and Shanghai to buy Broome pearls for the world’s greatest jewellery houses. While the handling and marketing of shell was a very open business with few secrets, everything about pearls seemed to be surrounded with secrecy and intrigue. Stolen pearls, or snides, were filched by divers and crews and sold to known snide buyers or anyone prepared to resell them at a profit.

The ramshackle town was built overwhelmingly of corrugated iron, and paint was not considered important. The bareness was broken by efforts at gardening in some of the better homes, but by and large the town stood exposed and unadorned, baked by the sun or lashed by monsoonal storms, depending on the season. The commercial area was dominated by Chinese merchants who also acted as financial agents and money–lenders. The residential areas were divided into white and Asian quarters. While the power and authority rested in the minority European community, Broome was wildly individual, a white man’s culture veneered over a mix of Asian sub–cultures.

The most notable building was Cable House, an elegant iron and wooden structure with a splendid billiards room. This grandeur befitted the marvel of contemporary technology housed within—the telegraph cable connecting this remote outpost of the British Empire to London.

Within days of their arrival Conrad had called on the Resident Magistrate C. R. Hooten who, swiftly ascertaining that he was a gentleman with a wife of good background, made a note to add the Hennessys to his invitation list. Social stratas existed within the white community and new arrivals were carefully vetted.

‘I’m sure my wife will have your good lady over to meet the other wives as soon as possible. There are few ladies of standing in the community, though there are more than enough of questionable lineage.’ The broad wink he then gave shocked Conrad, who
was a trifle unsure of just what the RM was alluding to, though he had heard about the proliferation of brothels from Tyndall.

Briefly Conrad told him of their sad life since arriving in the state.

‘Rotten luck, a bad business all round,’ commented the RM. ‘By the way I’d suggest to your good wife that she not mention her, er, contact with the Aborigines. We don’t mix with them, of course. Mind you, some are good workers, but only if they’ve been mission–trained. Most are lazy and take off at inconvenient times. Walkabout, you know. I never quite trust them. Always wonder if I’m going to get a spear hurled at me in the dark of night.’

‘Why would they do that?’

‘Oh, they get some idea they’ve been slighted and blame any white person for an injury some other white fellow might have caused. There have been some dreadful attacks on white women and children left alone on farms. You’re well out of that land deal, I would say.’ He then began to tell Conrad of his own arrival in Broome. ‘Badly organised. Damned low tide it was. There I am in all the finery, plumes, medals, the lot, for the official welcome and I have to plough through blooming smelly mud for a good half mile. Sorry sight I was to greet the town!’

Now into his stride with a fresh audience the RM prattled on about the town and conditions. ‘Always trouble with mixed nationalities. The Koepangers, Malays, Japs, and of course the blacks, all present problems fighting among themselves as much as with other racial groups. And when the pearlers
aren’t smuggling, drunk, or supposedly killing off their crews, they complain about lack of facilities.’ Hurriedly he added, ‘Naturally a gentleman pearler like yourself will be welcome. They’re not all rogues, a few master pearlers are decent fellows. Some of them have done very well too, though they keep it quiet of course.’ He roared with laughter and Conrad smiled tentatively, wondering which category John Tyndall belonged to.