by Di Morrissey
‘That sounds a lovely idea, Dave,’ said Lily with a lump in her throat. Now she knew what the early action was all about, they were catching the high tide for launching the boat. ‘Where is she now?’
‘At a mooring in the creek, near the pontoon. She’s sitting in the water very nicely, even if I say so myself. We would have had her afloat before you got here if the bilge pump had been ready. The bits only arrived yesterday.’
Sami and Lily cleaned up, collected their cameras and headed for the pontoon. Dave had already got the lugger alongside and the sails ready for hoisting. The engine below deck was chugging smoothly.
They clambered on, helped by a man they had not met before. He was clearly at ease on board. ‘Mind your head on the booms,’ he warned, then added with a smile, ‘I’m Don, husband of Serena who does the cooking.’
Once they were settled on the hatch cover, the mooring lines were cast off and Dave steered the boat down the creek and out into the bay. At the same time Don did some work on the sails lashed to the booms, then hoisted the foresail. In open water the Georgiana dipped slightly in a very low swell. Everyone on board sensed the lugger coming to life, as if enjoying being at sea once again.
Lily gave Dave a smile, not trusting herself to speak. He understood and gave her a grin, pleased she was so touched by his effort.
Dave signalled Sami to take the helm. ‘Hang on to this and sort of stay on course while I give Don a hand with the mainsail.’ Without giving Sami a chance to refuse he walked from the wheel and she had to grab it in near panic. Then she watched as the men hauled on sheets to hoist the main. Don came back to hoist the smaller sail behind the steering position, and then took the wheel from a very relieved Sami.
‘Thanks. Did you enjoy being in control?’
‘Once the moment of panic passed,’ she replied. ‘The sails look fairly old, are they original?’
‘No, but they’re old ones. Dave had taken care to store them well after the lugger was put up on the creek flat. There are years of life in them yet.’
Dave sat beside Lily on the hatch and began rolling a cigarette. ‘Can you imagine this deck covered in heaps of pearlshell, the diver and tender sitting up there? Couple of shell cleaners here, and the captain. They would stay out for weeks, living on rice and pickled vegies with soy sauce.’ He dragged on his cigarette. ‘The old days were the best.’ He looked at Lily and nodded towards Sami. ‘You told her the old stories?’
‘Not really. You have to be here to appreciate what it must have been like,’ hedged Lily.
Sami looked up at the swelling sails and took in the flap of the canvas, the sound of the boat cutting through the water, the smell of the old wooden hull and fresh paint. When she’d gone below deck she’d discovered it was dark, claustrophobic and smelly. She stared back towards the shore and the entrance to the Star Two creek. It was a huge horseshoe sweep of water fringed by sand, red rocks and rising behind, the dunes, spotted with creepers, shrubs, grass tussocks and the occasional stunted tree. It was pristine and untroubled.
‘It looks so serene, Don,’ said Sami. ‘You’d think it was paradise if you sailed in here a century ago.’
‘Until the monsoon season.’
Sami left Don to steer in peace and joined Lily and Dave, who launched into a monologue of adventures, tall tales, tragic and hilarious, of luck, of theft, of romance, of death on the luggers, beneath the sea, in the foreshore pearling camps and in the shadowy recesses of Chinatown among the bars, the brothels, the gaming and eating houses. Then he spoke of the gradual changes in diving equipment, the ill fated attempts of the British navy and their ‘white pearl divers’ to usurp the ‘coloured’ divers. He drew breath and prepared to roll another cigarette. ‘Ah, is it any wonder we want to be in this business?’
His stories were a revelation to Sami. Scenes flashed before her eyes conjured up by the old pearler. She glanced at her mother who’d been nodding in recognition, a smile on her lips as Dave talked. At that moment the wind stiffened, the pitch of the deck increased and the boat picked up speed.
‘Sami, grab that rope, fasten it round there,’ Don shouted. ‘I’m going to change course.’
Lily watched her lithe healthy daughter follow the directions of the two men as they changed direction to tack across to the other side of the bay. Sami had stopped bothering with fussy makeup, sun block and lip gloss were all she wore while at the farm, and she was tanned, her hair springing free in bouncy curls. Lily hoped she felt as happy as she looked.
Sami edged to the bow of the Georgiana and tilted her face to the sun as the wind and mist of spray hit her. She felt exhilarated. The weeks of breathing dust in the bush and the humidity of town were blown away and she felt alive like she hadn’t for a long time. She finally moved back to sit beside her mother who also looked relaxed and happy to be on the water. ‘This is fun! I mean, fantastic fun.’ And she hugged Lily in delight.
The spontaneous gesture, rare for Sami, touched Lily. Maybe bringing her here had triggered something they could share together. ‘We definitely need a regular sea hit. Let’s see if we can do this again soon.’
When they got back to shore just before lunch, they both thanked Dave and Don profusely. ‘It’s been a highlight,’ said Lily warmly. ‘It’s wonderful to see the Georgiana looking so good.’
‘Yeah, you could run tourist trips on her,’ suggested Sami. ‘Now come on, Mum, I’m hanging out for a cup of tea.’
‘I’ll join you shortly after we get her back on the mooring,’ called Dave and then turned to Don. ‘Tourist runs! What next – bloody fashion parades probably.’ The two men laughed and went to work on the sails and ropes.
Sami ran ahead of Lily, whistling Rakka who came bounding from their room to meet them. ‘Next time we’ll take you. See if you have sea legs, eh?’ Then spinning around to face her mother, Sami flung out her arms. ‘Mum, you know what?’
‘No, what?’
‘Go for it. I think you should go for it.’
‘This place? The pearl farm?’
Sami laughed. ‘Ah heck, why not? Being out there, listening to Dave, it’s more fun than playing the stock market, or running a shop. Or sitting all day at a computer.’
Lily burst into laughter and shook her head. ‘Sami, you’re incorrigible. Are you really sure?’ She linked her arm through Sami’s. ‘Unfortunately that’s going to be one of the first things we have to get for here, a computer.’
‘Okay, but you won’t be tied to it. As far as I can see, this place needs money and some enterprising ideas. If your friend Tim actually comes through with backing, I think you should give it a try. Just don’t touch your nest egg.’
Lily was about to ask what had brought this change of mind, but then she knew what it was. And in a strange way she felt she had her mother Georgiana to thank for it. ‘Let’s get some tea and celebrate. But we won’t say anything to Dave until we hear from Tim. And if that falls through we’ll look elsewhere.’
Sami looked suddenly serious. ‘Mum, don’t ask Dale to back you, please.’ She paused, wanting to say something else, and then finally added, ‘I don’t think it’s healthy to mix romance and finance.’
‘I couldn’t agree more,’ said Lily as she picked up a stick and threw it for Rakka. ‘Dale isn’t exactly for the idea anyway. I have the feeling he doesn’t think I’m capable. And I can’t blame him. I haven’t had a lot of experience in the pearl farming business.’
‘Well, you just show him,’ said Sami firmly.
Palmer dropped his film off for processing and offered to buy Eugene lunch at the Oz Cafe. They had just sat down at a sidewalk table when they saw Bobby Ching.
‘Come and join us, Bobby.’
‘How did it go? What did you think of the fossils?’ he asked, pulling up a chair.
‘Quite intriguing. I have to confess I’m surprised,’ Palmer replied. ‘Sometimes these things aren’t what they appear to be. It is fantastic to think that a creature left its footprints
in some marshy land and it’s survived through the aeons.’
‘I wonder what this place looked like then,’ said Eugene. ‘My grandmother tells a creation story about the worms that came out of the mud when the earth was born.’
‘That’s interesting. Australia claims the world’s oldest fossils, stromatolites, more egg shaped than worm like,’ Palmer explained. ‘They would have existed in a land of volcanoes.’
‘How long ago?’
‘Three and a half billion years ago. Before the Cambrian explosion when life on earth rapidly started to diversify. Fossils and their sediment tell us a lot about the evolution of the cradle of life and the planet. And often I find the Aboriginal culture has stories that parallel scientific study.’
‘You better listen well to the old people’s stories, Eugene, you might learn something,’ said Bobby light heartedly. ‘Become a professor, hey.’
‘Yeah. So you still filling in at your dad’s office today?’
Bobby’s face fell. ‘Yeah. And I had a visitor with bad news. That body they found out by Twelve Mile a while ago, it was the fellow I was driving around.’
‘The one who got lost?’
‘The German tourist, Matthias. Yeah, he was a nice bloke. Bad news, eh?’ said Bobby. ‘I don’t know why he was killed.’
‘Money,’ suggested Eugene. ‘He might have been in the international drug scene.’
‘Is that the fellow who had the box with the sun crest with the mysterious script in it?’ queried Palmer.
‘That’s right. Well, I guess I get to keep it now. I don’t suppose it was valuable. Maybe I could give it to his family if they come. I’ll ask the police,’ said Bobby.
‘That reminds me, I’d better chase up my mate down at the university, see if he has deciphered the copy of that little verse. Those kinds of things intrigue me,’ said Palmer.
‘Where do you think the sun came from? Where was it made?’ Bobby asked Palmer.
‘It certainly wasn’t European, more likely from the Middle East.’
Bobby was thoughtful. ‘The detective wanted to know about the friend Matthias was meeting out at Bradley Station. Hajid looked sort of . . . eastern. He’s disappeared, though.’ He looked at Palmer and Eugene. ‘Odd, huh?’
‘Maybe the note in the sun emblem will give us a clue,’ said Palmer. ‘Now let’s order something to eat.’
C h a p t e r E l e v e n
SATURDAY MORNING FELT DIFFERENT FROM THE REST of the week, although Sami was fast losing track of the days and weeks in Broome. Perfect day followed perfect day. She and Pauline were wandering through the Boulevard shopping complex when they noticed a group outside a shop. A sign in the window announced: ‘Paradise is Here’, and confirming that was a big photograph of a young and beautiful couple in bright tropical gear, Paradise brand. When the girls looked inside they saw that the shop was empty of stock but filled with people sitting quietly, among them was Gaye Wotherspoon. Pauline waved at her and she came to the door.
‘What’s going on?’
Gaye put a finger to her lips. ‘There’s a Tibetan monk in there making a mandala. You know, a sand picture. We have to speak quietly so as not to break his concentration.’
Pauline stood on tiptoe to peer over the group gathered inside and saw a small man with a shaved head and saffron robes sitting before a low table. ‘Why is he here?’
‘We want to share this with the local people. Making a sand mandala is a blessing, after it’s finished it will be cast into the sea in a ceremony.’
‘After all that work!’ exclaimed Sami. ‘How did he come here?’
‘There’s an informal Buddhist group in Broome and some of the local business people sponsor a monk’s airfare and accommodation each year. A mandala is like the home of a deity and it’s a process of transforming the daily chaos of life into one of beneficial wisdom.’
‘That’s a big ask,’ declared Sami.
‘Come and see.’
Sami and Pauline put their sandals with all the other shoes at the door and found a spot where they could see the young monk seated in front of a board on which the intricate sand picture was being created. In the large circular picture were many tiny geometric patterns. From small piles of coloured sand beside him, he filled a straw with the grains of sand and delicately tapped them into place to complete each pattern.
‘How does he colour the sand?’ asked Sami.
‘I think it’s crushed from pebbles, earth, flower and grass dyes,’ Gaye replied. ‘Once precious gems were used.’
The young monk who had nut brown eyes, polished skin and an embracing smile, put down the tube of sand and lifted his hands to his lips. ‘We will now allow the wisdom and energy of the sand to bless us.’
People began to sit cross-legged on the floor. ‘It’s meditation time,’ whispered Gaye.
Pauline and Sami glanced at each other and shrugged. They were trapped at the front in the small crowded room. The door was closed, the monk struck the small brass gong beside him then sank to the lotus position, his robe falling around him. As Sami crossed her legs she squeezed between Pauline and a man on her right, and as she turned to apologise for nudging into him she was shocked to see the smiling face of Tim Hudson.
‘I thought you were in Indonesia,’ she whispered.
‘I’m back.’ He closed his eyes and sat comfortably with his upturned palms resting on his knees.
Most people in the room had assumed the same position and it had grown very quiet and still. Sami closed her eyes but her mind was racing. Why was Tim here? Her mother hadn’t mentioned he was back. She was momentarily annoyed, but soon her mind was dominated by the sounds in the room: someone shifting their position, a swallowed cough, then gentle breathing. Slowly the breathing fell into a rhythm as if they were all breathing as one. The outside sounds of the shopping mall seemed to be fading, and then all went quiet.
Like a movie without the sound, Sami found she was thinking of her time at the rock art sites. What had made her think of that? She could see the tranquil scene looking down to the river from the escarpment, feel the warmth of the sun after the coolness of the cave shelter. And as if someone had turned the sound back on she heard rustling in the cave behind her, the low singsong chant of Goonamulli, the call of a bird. She saw again the strange simplistic rock carvings of the sun symbol but they were blazing like a sunrise, deep red and gold. She was at the edge of the escarpment, the breeze in her face and she leaned forward . . . for a moment feeling if she just stretched out into the abyss she would fly.
Sami suddenly jerked back into consciousness of where she really was, and found herself leaning sideways, lightly pressed against Tim. Without opening her eyes, she slowly straightened her body, wondering if he’d noticed.
From what seemed far away came the murmuring of the monk, and a low hum reverberated from those in the room until it reached the pitch of swarming bees, and then was silenced by the gong. Sami looked around. People were straightening, stretching, smiling, talking softly. She glanced at Tim and found he was giving her an amused look.
‘I didn’t know you were into Buddhism,’ he said with a faint smile on his lips.
‘I’m not. I got caught in here. Surely you’re not a Buddhist?’ she couldn’t help saying.
‘You can’t live in Asia and not have some understanding,’ said Tim easily. ‘Hi, Pauline, how’s the design business?’
‘Busy. I’m seeking inspiration.’
‘Sami here should have some ideas,’ he said.
‘What makes you say that?’ asked Sami, aware she sounded cranky.
‘Intuition.’
She ignored the remark. ‘Have you seen my mother? When did you get back?’
‘Last night. I’m having lunch at your place, I rang Lily a short while ago. See you there?’
‘No. Pauline and I have a lunch arrangement.’
Pauline tried to quickly disguise her surprise at hearing this and gave him a small smile. ‘See you round
then, Tim.’
He gave her a flirtatious grin. ‘I hope so.’
Clear of the scene, Pauline asked, ‘What’s with the sudden lunch date?’
‘He really irritates me. The way he does his own thing. He seems condescending. I hope my mother knows what she is doing. I guess they’ll want to talk over the next move if the investors have come to the party.’
‘Don’t you think you should be there?’ suggested Pauline.
‘I’ll hear about it tonight, I suppose. Come on, I’ll buy you lunch.’
‘A quick one. I’ve got a couple of shell carvers coming in this afternoon to do some work for me.’
Later Sami dropped in to see Rosie at the gallery and found Kevin and Bette there. ‘Hi all. Looking for a little something to give a touch of style to the van?’
‘We’re just browsing,’ said Bette, ‘but I do want a really good souvenir of Broome. I just love those.’ She pointed to the woven tapestries Farouz had brought in.
‘They are special,’ agreed Rosie. ‘I don’t know much about them. They’re a bit of a mystery. You should investigate them, Sami.’
‘Palmer thought they had merit. More oriental than Aboriginal.’
‘Farouz is about to go out there again soon. Why not go with him?’ suggested Rosie seriously.
‘On a camel? I don’t think so!’
‘We’ve done the camel ride. Two hours was enough for me,’ declared Bette.
‘Are you still enjoying Broome?’ Sami asked her. ‘You’re well settled in, aren’t you?’
‘It’s completely different from home and yet we love it here, don’t we, Kev?’
‘The weather, the people, the simplicity. You can be as laid back or as active as you like. We miss the kids and grandchildren, of course,’ he said wistfully. ‘Bette wants them to come over for the holidays but it’s so expensive to get here. Broome is a bit off the map, isn’t it?’
‘That’s why we like it,’ said Rosie. ‘As you’re going to be around for a while, Bette, I’ll look for something appropriate for you. Or Sami might find something in her travels.’