Tears of the Moon (22 page)

‘I’ll work out something with Ahmed about her future. In the meantime, Mrs Hennessy has assured
me she will look after her. It will be an ideal opportunity to learn Malay.’

‘I’m planning to do so,’ said Olivia, taking up his challenge. ‘You and Ahmed won’t have any secrets from me in the future,’ she added.

Tyndall raised his glass to her. ‘Then a toast to you. And thanks for your company on our voyage. May I add, you are looking very fetching this evening.’

Olivia smiled in acknowledgement. She could tell he’d already put several rums under his belt, and that the compliment was a reference to the very different attire she’d been wearing on the
Bulan
.

‘Oh, thanks for the invitation to dinner, by the way, but I’ve got to meet some chaps for a drink or two,’ said Tyndall.

‘Socialising tonight, eh?’ interjected Conrad, feeling a little uncomfortable with the bantering conversation.

‘I’ve been doing a bit of that at the Conti already,’ he said easily. ‘My, we are the talk of the town.’

Conrad looked concerned. ‘Oh dear. I hope the RM hasn’t heard about Olivia’s little adventure.’

‘People will always talk. I ignore them and just live my life,’ said Tyndall.

‘That’s all well and good, but when one aspires to a certain standing in the community, one has to consider one’s actions to a certain degree. It’s not possible to simply do as one wants to, no matter what.’ Seeing the expressions of Tyndall and Olivia, Conrad realised he was sounding pompous.

‘Is that what you want, Conrad? To aspire to a certain standing in the community?’ asked Olivia gently. ‘I’m sorry if my actions have embarrassed you.’

Tyndall glanced at the contrite Olivia, but suddenly knew from the light in the depths of her green eyes she wasn’t the least bit sorry for taking the trip on the
Bulan
.

‘Don’t worry about it, Conrad. Your wife’s reputation is intact. Now, we must discuss business for a moment or two. We have to start deep sea pearling and that will mean further investment.’

‘What sort of investment?’ asked Conrad cautiously, knowing that funds were low.

‘We have to equip the lugger with a new pump and gear and make more room to accommodate a crew. The schooner will act as mother ship. And we have to find a diver and tender.’

‘That’s all your department,’ said Conrad. Enthused by the idea, he added. ‘The more I learn about the pearling business, the more I like it.’

‘He’s got the bug now,’ said Olivia, pleased that Conrad’s normal reserve and caution were swept aside by the heady business of pearling, with its lure of finding valuable pearls.

Like so many men before him, the mystique of pearls was affecting Conrad. He had begun to read what he could find on the industry and had talked to as many people as possible about all aspects of pearling. The loose rounds, baroque and blister pearls attached to the shell were considered a bonus, but enough were found in the deeper waters off Broome to make it a lucrative sideline to pearl shell. Not all the pearls collected were officially reported to the Customs authorities for duty and record keeping. It was a great temptation, especially when good pearls
were found, not to declare them and sell them on the snide market or send them to buyers in Singapore, Hong Kong or Melbourne.

Conrad was glad to be able to report his own small success. ‘Actually, while you were away, I made a good friend of the town’s best pearl cleaner, so we can hand over the first batch of pearls to him. His name is Tobias Metta.’

Tobias Metta was from Ceylon via Singapore. Conrad had taken to frequently visiting Toby’s non-descript office where his work bench was spread with the most basic of tools—a magnifying lens, a goldsmith’s file stuck in the end of a champagne cork, a knife with several blades honed to their ultimate sharpness, file board and clamp, emery paper, ruby powder, a soft cloth and a pair of scales.

His round face, that looked as if it had just been oiled and polished, always broke into a welcoming smile. Fortunes came or fell away from his fingers as he delicately operated on flaws that marred a pearl’s beauty and value. The art lay in his hands—surprisingly squat stub–fingered hands—but the agility, lightness and swiftness of touch was like watching two creatures perform a dance, so delicately they twisted and spun the pearl beneath the blade or file. Like a doctor, the pearl cleaner was believed to have healing hands. Though luck, skill and judgement were just as important. Despite the pressure of his work, Tobias Metta still managed to chuckle and talk all the time while he worked.

‘It’s the risk the owner takes, Mr Hennessy, to sell immediately at a small profit or gamble that beneath
the surface is a perfect beauty. If it isn’t there, I cannot produce it. I am not a magician,’ smiled Toby. ‘But I can make more beautiful a pearl whose true qualities have not been shown to the world,’ he added with some pride.

Conrad was amazed at how lacklustre pearls became shining iridescent gems, sometimes in only minutes. Misshapen pearls sometimes yielded valuable gems, but just as often turned out to be worthless.

‘How exciting! I would love to watch him at work,’ exclaimed Olivia. ‘Would he mind? I absolutely must go with you when we collect our pearls and tackle the buyer.’

‘Toby is quite unperturbed about visitors being around as he works. He’s amazingly deft, and very fast. It’s hard to believe he is working with something valuable and that one slip could destroy it,’ marvelled Conrad. ‘I’ll introduce you tomorrow, my dear.’

Tyndall put his glass down and thanked them both for the sundowner. ‘By the way, before I go, I’ll speak to Niah. I’ll attempt to settle her down and explain what the situation is. May I see her now?’

‘I only wish I could communicate with her, help her. She doesn’t seem to be adjusting to our household at all well,’ sighed Olivia.

As the two men walked to the rear of the house, Conrad asked, ‘How wild is she, John?’

‘All women can be wild at times,’ said Tyndall lightly, but then continued more earnestly, ‘She’s from the Indies, Conrad. Quite a different culture from the blacks.’

Niah was sitting cross-legged in the centre of the
camp stretcher in the simple whitewashed room. She glared at Tyndall when she saw him, then let forth a stream of urgent questions.

‘
Lambat
. Slowly,’ said Tyndall, speaking softly and choosing his words carefully. The girl listened and then Tyndall called for Yusef, the houseboy, who was sitting at the servants’ communal eating table outside the laundry and cookhouse.

‘Yusef, you must watch her, and be her friend. Mem Hennessy will have clothes made for her because it might take a while before we can send her back home.’

Niah jumped up and clutched at Tyndall, crying and talking in a jumble of her native language which he had trouble following. He calmed Niah and turned to Yusef. ‘She doesn’t want to go back home? What was all that about a bad man?’

Yusef translated. ‘Tuan, she say she is given to old man, a bad man, for husband. She no want to go to him.’

‘What about her family? Will they take her back, is there anywhere else she can go?’

Niah shook her head vehemently in response to this and nervously clutched at the shell pendant around her neck.

‘She stolen by bad white man and put on boat with others. No can go back, tuan,’ said the boy, giving Niah a sympathetic look.

‘Hmm,’ muttered Tyndall. ‘It seems we can’t send her back.’

At this Conrad looked shocked and shook his head. ‘Well, we can’t just keep her or indeed, let her loose in the streets.’

Niah reached out and clutched Tyndall’s shirt, talking urgently.

He unhooked Niah’s hands. ‘She says she belongs to me now because I saved her.’

‘Oh,’ said Conrad, now quite confused by the fast-changing situation.

Olivia overheard this last exchange as she approached, wondering what all the noise was about. ‘Well, you certainly can’t keep her, Captain Tyndall. We’ll have to talk to the church people. Maybe she should go to a convent. I’m sure there must be a mission that will take her.’

Tyndall bit his Up and didn’t answer. Turning to the girl, he spoke soothingly, before asking Olivia to get the cook to make her some food. ‘I think she feels a bit better now she’s sounded off at all of us.’

Olivia glanced back at the girl who still looked haunted, but there was a small gleam in her big brown eyes. She recognised the glint of victory when she saw it.

The next day a very hungover Tyndall announced he had found a diver for the next season. ‘A Jap. Good record with the fleet. But my God he can drink whisky!’

Olivia raised an eyebrow. ‘Will you be coming with us to the pearl cleaner?’

Tyndall screwed up his face and slumped low in his office chair, lifting his feet up on the desk. ‘I couldn’t handle Toby Metta this morning. Never stops talking. All too much. As for the pearl buyer, well my advice is, be tough.’

‘Don’t worry about it, John, we’ll look after
everything,’ said Conrad with some confidence.

Just as she was enchanted with the rundown shell shed on the waterfront when she first went there, Olivia was excited by the atmosphere of the workshop of the Asian pearl cleaner. He greeted her effusively, fussily dusting off a bentwood chair, and rubbing his hands together with enthusiasm.

‘It is very good of you to come to my humble little place, Mrs Hennessy. It is rarely graced by the presence of a lady.’ He bobbed and smiled and clasped his hands. ‘You are most welcome any time.’

His singsong accent and excessive politeness amused Olivia, but she warmed to him immediately. ‘I hope that together we will make some wonderful pearls, Mr Metta.’

‘Oh indeed, indeed, Mrs Hennessy. We most certainly will. But already you have some very excellent pearls.’ He reached into a drawer and from a labelled black velvet bag emptied a small cluster of pearls from blue tissue paper into the palm of his hand, then spread them on the bag on the desk. ‘There,’ he said triumphantly.

Four pearls of intense gold and rosy lustre shone like beacons on a moonless night. Olivia gasped lightly. ‘Oh, they’re beautiful. Conrad, isn’t it exciting.’ ‘Only a few skins had to be removed,’ explained Toby. ‘Very simple little task, just like peeling an onion. A most lucky start. They will bring a good price even though they are not that big.’ From another bag he emptied two dozen smaller pearls. ‘Your petty cash,’ he laughed. ‘I lost four. They were flawed to the heart. So sorry.’

They paid his fee and accepted an invitation to Sunday tiffin. His reputation was such among the pearling masters of Broome that there was no racial discrimination when it came to accepting invitations to Toby and Mabel’s tiffin. Not only was the food good, but very little happened in Broome concerning pearls that Toby did not know about, and occasionally he discreetly let slip some useful information.

With the pearls rolled into a small chamois bag and tucked into Olivia’s handbag, the Hennessys continued on to the Continental Hotel to meet with Monsieur Jules Barat, the pearl buyer.

After exchanging introductions and greetings, Monsieur Barat carefully closed the door behind them.

The pearl buyer was a short man, quite young despite his courtly manner, with a large hooked nose, pointed goatee and gold-rimmed spectacles that magnified his bulbous brown eyes. He was immaculately dressed from Faubourg St Germain and the combination of his élan and distinctive Gallic style made him glaringly out of place in Broome.

They sat around a small wicker table and he opened a flat wooden case. Its lid was lined with green baize. Beside this he set up a small set of gold scales, a jeweller’s eyeglass, and a small notepad.

He spoke with a smooth and seductive French accent. He bowed slightly to Olivia. ‘Would Madame excuse me if I remove my jacket?’

‘Please.’ She gestured to him to go ahead, and he slipped his jacket on the back of his chair. Conrad,
dressed in tropical linen and not haute couture, stayed as he was.

Olivia took the pearls from the little bag and placed them on the green baize. It was a modest collection and Olivia spoke up a little defensively. ‘As you are aware, this has been our first season. We expect to increase our output significantly with each season.’

‘Of course. Quality, not just quantity, is what we strive for in the jewellery business,’ he responded with a slight bobbing of his head.

Monsieur Barat went through what was obviously his personal ritual—the adjusting of the metal expanding bands that held up his shirt sleeves, the flexing of fingers, the wiping of his glasses, which he put to one side, the screwing into place of the eyeglass. Only then did he pick up and study each pearl. After careful scrutiny, he weighed each and made a note on his pad. Another thoughtful look at each pearl, holding them at a distance, and finally a calculation on the pad. He tore off the sheet, turned it around and slid it across to Conrad. After a brief perusal, Conrad silently handed the paper to Olivia. He looked pleased—it seemed a fair price, quite in line with the estimate Toby had made for them. But Olivia pursed her lips.

‘Monsieur Barat, surely this is not your final offer?’ she challenged him.

Conrad and the pearl buyer blinked at her.

‘Mrs Hennessy, I am a professional dealer, not a horse trader.’

‘I understand, of course. But … ’