Tears of the Moon (29 page)

Cradling the baby in her arms, Olivia went to the verandah where Tyndall was pacing in the shadows.

‘John, it’s all over. Everything is fine.’

He turned to Olivia, who was standing in the lit doorway holding the baby.

‘Boy or girl?’ he asked in a whisper as he moved quickly towards her.

‘You have a beautiful daughter.’ Olivia placed the tiny bundle in Tyndall’s arms, pulling down the shawl so he could better see the child.

‘Oh, Olivia,’ he breathed. ‘She’s a gem.’

Olivia felt her throat constrict. ‘Go to Niah, John.’

Tyndall, eyes still glued to the infant he held, walked indoors without another word. Olivia watched him disappear into the house, quietly gathered up her bag and light shawl and slipped through the darkened garden and out the gate, her footsteps muffled on the dusty road.

CHAPTER TWELVE

‘T
yndall is a changed man,’ announced Conrad with a mixture of amusement and mild astonishment. ‘He’s besotted with that baby. Whoever would have guessed?’

Olivia watched Tyndall cradle the baby in his arms, talk to her, and make delighted nonsense noises. She was surprised to feel a twinge of envy. But there were other feelings too, feelings she could not identify let alone explain. She felt a strong attachment to the exquisite little girl she’d help bring into the world. And since the baby’s birth, Tyndall’s unabashed joy, his conversation sprinkled with anecdotes of her day-to-day progress and serious queries over baby-rearing matters—despite Niah and the amah’s capabilities—had given Tyndall and Olivia a common ground that had drawn them closer together again. Olivia’s acceptance of Niah and her assistance at the birth had helped heal the
rift between them. Olivia couldn’t help comparing the paternal roles of Conrad and Tyndall. Conrad was a devoted but conservative father, who held the philosophy that a baby was the responsibility of the mother and his role as guiding hand came later in life. Olivia noticed Conrad shake his head with a bemused expression as he watched Tyndall sitting cross-legged on the floor with the baby in his lap singing bawdy sea shanties. He tapped his head indicating to Ahmed that the tuan was going ‘soft’. But Ahmed was just as delighted with the child and chuckled at her small gestures and also got down on the floor to play with the baby. After Niah had fed the baby in the early evening, Tyndall frequently took the baby to Conrad and Olivia’s. She would sleep contentedly in his lap while the adults shared a sundowner.

Little Hamish stood beside Tyndall watching the new baby with great fascination, sometimes reaching out to touch the small fist and grinning in delight when little fingers curled around his own. He beamed at his mother and stood without moving, afraid of disturbing the baby, but Tyndall scooped the boy up and made room beside him in the chair so he could be close to the beautiful olive-skinned baby girl. Tyndall’s show of affection further endeared him to Olivia.

At the Freemasons, Conrad had become very conscious of the raised eyebrows in reaction to Tyndall’s domestic arrangements.

Major Ralph White, ex-British Army, old India hand and pastoralist who ‘dabbled’ in pearling, had
taken a shine to Conrad. ‘You picked an odd bod there to throw your lot in with,’ he declared, his waxed moustache unmoving as he waggled his head in mock dismay. ‘Decent enough chap, I suppose. Understand he helped out you and your good wife during difficult times, but I must say, Conrad, this baby business is not good form.’

‘Rather unusual to parade about with it, I agree. But then, Tyndall has always been a non-conformist I suspect,’ sighed Conrad.

‘He’s not the first and won’t be the last to keep a woman on the side, white or black velvet, but it’s rather throwing it in the face of everyone. Especially you and your wife. Very difficult. The women don’t like it. Rattles them when one of their own kind lets the side down.’

He spoke kindly but Conrad knew there’d probably been a lot of discussion about it and the Major had been nominated to talk to him.

Conrad felt a faint flush around his collar at the Major’s words but replied with some spirit. ‘Tyndall is my partner and I respect him for his honesty and professionalism, but it is his personal business and, frankly, all the talking in the world is not going to change that man. He tends to live by his own rules. However, I will of course point out to him—once again—the inappropriateness of his behaviour.’ Conrad hoped he sounded more positive than he felt, for he knew Tyndall would do just what he liked. He’d have another word with him and maybe Olivia could ask him to be more discreet.

The Major changed the subject and talked about
his latest cattle venture which was proving very lucrative. ‘Might even consider going into wool, old boy. Mind you, it’s not a piece of cake. Blacks spear animals, damned weather is harsh, staff unreliable, but overall I seem to have a few runs on the board. Speaking of which,’ he slapped his thigh, ‘when are we going to arrange another cricket match? You’re an excellent bat, splendid addition to the team.’

They called for another round and chewed over the highlights of the last club game, when Conrad had enjoyed a moment of glory after hitting several boundaries to give his side victory.

Excesses of weather dictated life in the north-west and this lay up season was proving particularly trying. The humidity drenched the body and numbed the mind, tempers were short-fused and explosive, minor matters became major issues. Small conflicts at sea became magnified into huge injustices in the simmering boredom of life ashore.

Among the Asian community, in particular, there was a lot of tension. Ahmed conveyed this to Tyndall who warned the Hennessys and Niah to steer clear of the Sheba Lane area.

Sheba Lane, also known as Chinatown, Jap town, or the coloured quarter, was a collection of narrow alleyways that webbed from the original sand dunes where the enterprising Kamematsu Shiba had erected the first boarding house for the Japanese. Shanty dwellings, foodshops, sheds housing brothels and gambling dens crowded haphazardly together, creating a village of its own within the town.

The alleyways offered escape routes into or away from the various sections of the town, and a man could disappear into shadowy doorways, rickety upper floors, or backrooms at the flash of a knife.

Sheba Lane also accommodated other races and on the whole everyone rubbed along together with the general understanding that it was ‘them’ against the white bosses, the police, the law, and the belligerent members of the Yakuza, linked to powerful secret society leaders back in Japan.

The monsoon was late and for guests at the Resident’s garden party, there seemed no promise of relief from the oppressive heat and humidity. Storm clouds gathered, then slipped across the placid waters of the bay and got lost in the desert. The relatively new Australian flag hung limply on its flagpole alongside the Western Australian flag and the Union Jack. The RM liked the way the flags conveyed authority and elevated his position beyond its real status.

Olivia closed her fan and, excusing herself from the group of ladies on the terrace, walked across the lawn to where Conrad was sitting with the RM and Mrs Hooten, and Major White and Mrs White.

Of all the wives, Olivia found Amelia White the easiest to deal with because she made no demands on anyone. She drifted, in a haze of gin and lavender, smiling benignly at the world through slightly unfocused pale blue eyes. She was the antithesis of her blustering, loud, hearty, domineering husband and was thankful that while he was around she didn’t have to make much of an effort.

Olivia was glad the Major had become a friend to Conrad. His cocksure attitude irritated her, but his fatherly advice seemed to mean a great deal to Conrad, who felt the friendship gave him extra standing in the small world in which they moved.

Talk turned, as it had with every group at the party, to the great fight that had erupted that morning between a group of Japanese and some Koepangers. No one was clear as to the cause. There was some perceived insult, shouted words, then the Japanese had chased the Koepangers along the foreshore.

Later in the day each side had gathered support and there had been several clashes resulting in some nasty injuries. Two police officers had intervened and for the last two hours all had been quiet.

Mrs Hooten gathered the guests around the out-door buffet table where a large birthday cake was set up for the Resident’s birthday. After toasts and several speeches, the Resident blew out the candles and, taking his ceremonial sword, was about to cut the cake, when there was a mighty outburst at the gates of the Residence. The stunned partygoers turned as one to confront a shouting horde of Japanese brandishing sticks, knives and stones.

‘What the devil is going on?’ demanded the Resident as the women cried out in alarm and retreated towards the house.

‘Close the gates,’ called Major White and two men rushed to the wrought iron gates across the drive.

The demonstrators continued to rattle the fence and shout and someone quickly translated, ‘The Koepangers have killed a Jap!’

‘Good Lord, now we’re in for some trouble,’ said Conrad with concern as Olivia stood close to him, nervously watching the angry men demanding justice.

‘Order them away, Ralph,’ demanded Mrs Hooten, still holding the cake plates. ‘They’ll ruin the party.’

A stone lobbed over the fence and another heated cry went up.

‘Get the women indoors, Hennessy’ shouted the RM. ‘Major, run for the police. We’d better get to the bottom of this in a hurry. Could turn very nasty.’ He turned to an aide. ‘Get the men organised on the verandah, Jones.’

Soon a worried policeman arrived carrying a shotgun. ‘Sir, seems the Japanese hounded the Koepangers and they were going in all directions and one of the Jap divers ran the wrong way straight into the gang of Koepangers. Beat him to death. The Japs are demanding you round up the Koepangers and have them surrender the culprits.’

‘Thanks, constable. First thing is to disperse this mob.’

‘They’re not going to listen to reason, sir. They’re very stirred up.’

‘Righto then.’ Mr Hooten issued instructions and action was swiftly organised. Within minutes, assisted by the Major, he had all of the men assembled behind him. ‘Right men …
Charge!
’ The RM raised the ceremonial cake-cutting sword and dashed forward. Behind him came a ragged line of Broome’s elite, armed with umbrellas, walking sticks, garden rakes and brooms.

They raced across the lawn and the Japanese were momentarily frozen as the birthday guests reached the fence and banged their brooms and brollies against the railings, the occasional implement poking through to prod a startled protester.

The Japanese suddenly turned and headed towards the Japanese Club and Sheba Lane.

The men returned in triumph, calling for drinks. ‘It’s going to be a difficult night,’ predicted the RM.

Fighting broke out through the night, with bands of Japanese storming houses, shops, dens and foreshore camps to hunt down Koepangers. They’d given up looking for the guilty—now all Koepangers were in danger. They hid, and many ran into the pindan, hoping no Japanese would venture into the bush at night and that dungs would be under control by morning.

The extent of the trouble was considered too great for the police and men deemed to be responsible citizens were sworn in as special constables, Conrad and Major White among them.

The next day, as the fights continued, the RM, flanked by Sergeant O’Leary and the special constables, read the Riot Act in front of the Buccaneer Arms Hotel. He announced to a small crowd of citizens that a curfew was being imposed and that arrests would be made if anyone broke the curfew or engaged in unlawful assembly. If the races involved did not cool down swiftly, Japanese and Koepanger rabble-rousers would be held in segregated detention in pearl sheds.

‘Throw ’em in together, that’ll fix the problem,’ suggested someone in the crowd.

But despite the RM’s pronouncement, no home or building was safe. Stones were hurled at verandahs and there were more reports of sheds, shops and offices being broken into.

With dusk settling over the town and brawls still breaking out, Conrad strapped on his revolver to patrol the streets along with other special constables.

Olivia looked concerned. ‘Please, be careful Conrad.’

‘Of course. But we have to show the flag or else they’ll think they can take over the town any time they want. These chaps are only after each other, I’ll be perfectly all right,’ he answered more confidently than he really felt. ‘Tell Minnie to keep indoors and tell Hamish I’ll read him a story if he’s still awake when I get back.’