Pearls

by Colin Falconer

  Simeon lowered himself over the coir ladder. A few minutes later he was descending through the dark green water into the deeps.

  ***

  It was a neap tide, and the water was crystal clear. When Simeon reached the bottom, he could see Siosuki quite clearly, almost fifty metres away.

  He was on good shell, his fingers busy among the weed and sponge. In his suit and helmet he lumbered along the sea floor like some ancient monster, the red rubber air hose and the thick manila lifeline snaking through the mists like enormous tentacles. His air bubbles spiralled upwards in sparkling silver clouds.

  Simeon lumbered after him.

  ***

  Siosuki worked feverishly, stripping the oysters from the rock. As he put the last shell in the bag, he looked down to see if it was full yet.

  It was almost empty.

  He grabbed at the bag and held it up, looking for a hole.

  Suddenly the comforting clack-clack of the air pump disappeared. His air hose! His air hose was cut! He grabbed for his air valve to close it and stop the water rushing in to his helmet.

  It was already shut off.

  His suit started to collapse under the pressure of the water. He groped desperately for the valve, adjusted it, and as his suit re-pressurised the crinkles in his suit smoothed out again.

  He planted his feet firmly on the sea bed, took a few deep breaths to settle himself. He could feel his heart hammering against his ribs. He tried to fathom what could have happened. All he could think of was that the valve must be faulty. Should he go back to the surface? If he was wrong they would all laugh at him.

  But what about the shell bag?

  Something hit him hard from behind. A shark! He grabbed for his lifeline and tugged hard. 'Pull up, pull up!'

  ***

  Siosuki clung to the rope ladder while Wes lifted off the helmet and started to unscrew the corselet. 'What is it? You see shark down there?'

  Siosuki could not speak, could barely make it to his stool by the main mast, his legs were shaking so hard. Wes had to help him. He wiped the sweat from his face with a towel and took a proffered cigarette and inhaled deeply.

  'Water spirits steal my shell,' he said.

  There was a silence and then the crew - mainly Koepangers - started to laugh. Cameron was the only one who did not seem to find it funny.

  'There's nae such thing.'

  Siosuki shook his head. Of course there were water spirits, even the smallest child in his village knew that. 'Water spirit steals my shell, turn off my air valve.'

  'Oh aye, and what did this water spirit look like.'

  'Green,' Siosuki said, improvising. 'Green, all rotten. Just skull for face. Perhaps dead diver. Maybe ghost.'

  'Get back down, Mister Hanaguchi. Mister Espada's sending up good shell. You should be down there with him.'

  'Not here. Another place more better. Dead diver here for sure.'

  Cameron swore and turned away. The Japanese were good divers but superstitious beyond belief, to a man. It would be pointless to try and persuade him. Working the deeps did this to a man; after a while even the best diver began to imagine things.

  The crew rolled their eyes at each other and chuckled among themselves.

  Simeon surfaced nearly two hours later. When he was out of his suit, he accepted a cup of coffee from the cookboy and sat down on the bulwark.

  'A good haul, Mister Espada,' Cameron said, surveying the Manilaman's lay. 'By the way, you did nae happen to see a dead diver down there?'

  Simeon pursed his lips thoughtfully and shook his head.

  'Mister Hanaguchi thinks a skull with a green body stole all his shell.'

  'Well I know I stole some of his shell. But I didn't see no ghost. Perhaps I frightened him off.'

  All the crew were staring at Simeon now. 'I thought so. Did you turn off his air valve, also?'

  Simeon grinned. 'Then I gave him a good kick in the pants with my boot. You should see him jump!' He threw back his head and roared. Soon the rest of the crew were laughing too. The only ones who did not laugh were Cameron, who had lost an afternoon's work from one of his divers, and Siosuki.

  'It was just a joke,' Simeon said.

  Hanaguchi picked up a marlin spike and came at him. He would have split the Manilaman's skull down the middle if Wes had not intercepted him, pinning his arms. He held him while Cameron prised the heavy iron from his fist, then hefted him, screaming curses at Simeon in Japanese, downstairs to his bunk.

  He grabbed Simeon by the collar. 'I ought to break your head for that little prank myself,' Cameron said and threw the marlin spike across the deck where it lodged in the scuppers. He went below decks to help Wes calm the little Japanese.

  There was a shuffling silence. Simeon winked at the Koepangers. That should give the little yellow bastard something to think about. Never mind that he had just made himself a mortal enemy. He was too full of himself to realise it.

  ***

  Simeon lay on his bunk in the darkness, listening to the night. The Roebuck's chain trembled as she faced the tide, timbers creaking as she came about. He heard the Japanese, Hanaguchi whimpering in his sleep, wrestling with the sea demons again. Something scuttled across the floor, a cockroach or perhaps a rat.

  The symphony of snores from the crew satisfied him that it was safe. He eased himself gently out of his bunk and padded barefoot across the deck to the scuttle.

  It was a hot night, a bright three quarter moon throwing the shadows on the planking into stark relief. The deck was deserted, except for the Koepanger crewman asleep on his watch at the tiller. He eased out of the scuttle and waited, hardly daring to breathe. If the skipper caught him now he would never get a job on these pearling grounds again. Anna Lacey was worth the risk.

  A small pile of shell lay unopened on the deck, by the main mast. That afternoon the skipper had sent him back down, as punishment for the trick he had played on Hanaguchi. The sun had set by the time he got back on deck, and so Cameron had been forced to leave it there.

  The oysters had almost suffocated in their shells during the evening and now some of them had opened on their gristly hinges to gasp in the cooler air. Simeon approached them cautiously; he knew that at the slightest touch or vibration they would snap shut. On the few occasions that shell was left on deck overnight, rats were found in the morning with their tails protruding from a half open oyster they had tried to eat alive.

  Simeon got down on his knees, holding a cork and a piece of twisted wire. He looked for the gleam of an open shell. When he found one he thrust the cork between the lips of the shell to hold it open and hooked the wire inside, feeling for the tell-tale hardness of a pearl.

  A dozen times he tried, knowing the odds were almost hopeless. But others had succeeded over the years. He had heard the stories in Chinatown. Why shouldn't there be a pearl for Simeon Espada?

  After an hour or so he was on the point of giving up. Then, on what he had promised himself would be the last shell, he found something. He scooped it out and heard it plop gently onto the deck.

  He held it up to the moonlight and had to stifle a gasp. It was a pearl, a huge pearl! He punched the air with his fist. He had done it! The Koepanger at the tiller grunted and started to stir. Simeon wrapped the stone inside the fold of the red kerchief he wore at his neck. His fingers were trembling so hard he almost dropped his prize into the scuppers. He put the cork and the wire back in his pocket and crept back down the scuttle to his bunk.

  Sleep was impossible after that. He imagined he must surely wake everyone on the boat with the hammering of his heart. He was a rich man; his new-found wealth would be his passport to the plump, creamy secrets of Anna Lacey.

  His fingers constantly worried the pearl concealed at his throat, to reassure himself that it was really true, not some fevered diver's dream.

  As he lay there, wide awake, settling on his dreams and plans, another soul joined him in the long and secret pre-dawn vigil.

  A baby hump
back had become separated from its mother and had adopted the bulky shadow of the lugger in its desperation. Simeon could hear it swimming alongside, and its mournful keening made him shiver with dread. He hoped it wasn't an omen.

  Chapter 21

  By the afternoon of the next day, Simeon's lay was well down. He couldn't concentrate. They were in twelve fathoms, on good shell, but he had brought up only about half of Siosuki's lay. It just didn't matter to him anymore. The only thing that mattered was the pearl carefully knotted in the folds of the kerchief at his neck. All he could think of was being back in Broome where he could find a buyer for his secret treasure.

  Distracted, he did not see the danger until it was much too late.

  ***

  On the Roebuck Wes was standing by the air compressor, his eye on the gauges, while one of the Koepangers, Hassan, sat on a platform out from the port shrouds, feeding the lifeline. Hanaguchi was sitting by the main mast, smoking a cigarette.

  'Do you ken what's wrong with Mister Espada today?' Cameron asked Wes.

  'Mebbe he scared of Hanaguchi, skip.'

  'I would nae think our Mister Espada scares that easy.'

  Wes shrugged. Who knew what any man would do? Some who were fearless when faced with a shark could be cowards when they saw a bared knife. He had been on the pearling grounds for over ten years now and had long ago stopped being surprised by anything that he saw or heard.

  It was late afternoon, and the sun was low over the water. The sea was flat and oily and the glare hurt the eyes, lulled a man into fatigue. It was the hardest time of the day to stay alert.

  Suddenly there was a puff of mist less than a hundred yards off the port bow and a huge grey body broke the surface.

  'What was that?' Cam shouted.

  It was a gnarled old Humpback. It wallowed in the swell, staring right at them with one small, cow-like eye. It snorted water from its blow hole with a giant whoo!. Then it disappeared, its tail flukes glinting for just a moment in the sunlight before it began its dive.

  'Bring up the diver!' Cameron shouted at Hassan. 'Quickly, man!'

  Cameron felt a juddering vibration through the hull as the great beast scraped its body along the keel, trying to scraps off the barnacles and sucker fish that tormented it. Several of the crew lost their footing and were thrown across the deck.

  Then the humpback rose out of the water on the starboard side, almost standing on its tail. It was close enough that Cameron could see the ancient scars on its flanks, spray streaming from the slate-grey body. Then it shook itself like some huge, wet dog and a shower of sucker fish plopped into the water in all directions. It plunged on its back in a gigantic explosion of spray.

  The screw scampered for kerosene tins and coffee mugs and beat them frantically against the side of the hull to try and scare the monster away. Cameron waved his fist at it.

  'It's nae the season!' he yelled at it. 'You're a month too early for these waters! I've got a man down there, damn you!'

  He flung his marine almanac at it in helpless rage.

  'Get that diver up now!'

  ***

  Simeon felt an urgent tug on his lifeline and a message in Morse- come up quickly!

  He looked up, saw the copper hull of the Roebuck to his right and then, almost directly above him, a massive white belly, almost as big as the lugger itself.

  'Ikan paus,' he murmured. 'A whale! Mary, Mother of God, help me!'

  One lazy flick of its tail took it right alongside the slender red tube of his air pipe. Desperate, Simeon adjusted his air valve, filling his suit with air, ready to ascend. He watched in horror as his red air tube slid along the whale's body. As it neared the tail he pulled down hard, trying to drag it clear of the flukes.

  Too late.

  He was jerked through the water. Above him, the humpback cow felt the hose tighten around her body and she panicked. She bolted, dragging Simeon along in her wake.

  ***

  The lifeline hissed over the port gunwale. Wes grabbed a coil of the heavy rope and made a turn around the halyard rack to secure it. Then Cameron threw his weight on the line and shouted for the rest of the crew to help. The Koepangers scurried across the deck, even Curry-Curry rushed from the galley to lend a hand.

  The air pipe reached its limit, trembled for a moment and then snapped with a bang.

  'Jesus, he's gone!' Cameron shouted.

  The lifeline was played out. The Roebuck gave a shudder and started to move forward, towed in the humpback's wake. Cameron, his hands bleeding from rope burns, ran to the bow. He saw the whale surface, the line still wrapped around its body.

  Then, for one surreal moment, he saw Simeon Espada spread-eagled across the great creature's back. Then the lifeline snapped with the crack of a gunshot, the rope snaked high into the air and fell into the sea.

  Simeon rolled off the whale's silvery back and disappeared under the waves.

  ***

  Simeon was only dimly aware of what was happening to him. The whale had dragged him to the surface, then plunged him down to the bottom again almost as quickly. His ear drums burst. It felt as if red hot needles had been jammed into his ears and nose and brain. He was jerked helplessly around in the water, his head smashing against the copper rim of the helmet, his body spreadeagled by the weight of his boots.

  He had tried to keep a desperate hold on his air pipe but when it finally tore apart, in an explosion of bubbles, he knew he was a dead man. He groped for the valve on the side of the helmet and closed it off, trapping the remaining air inside his suit. It was the last thing he remembered before the world went dark.

  'Anna,' he said and blacked out.

  ***

  Cameron picked up a coil of coir rope from the deck and a tomahawk that lay beside the pile of shell. He slashed away the lashings of the whaleboat. It thumped into the water and he leaped into it, nearly spilling it over.

  'Wes! Hassan! Ramus! To the oars! Move!'

  Cameron had pushed the dinghy away from the Roebuck even as the others were jumping in alongside him. They grabbed the oars. A dozen quick strokes took them clear of the lugger. Now Wes could see what Cameron had spotted from the bow. Simeon had somehow managed to close the air valve in his helmet, and his partially inflated suit was holding him up in the water.

  But even as they watched he began to dip out of sight below the oily swell.

  'Faster!' Cameron shouted at them, straining at the oars. 'Put your backs into it!'

  ***

  Simeon's helmeted body was two fathoms down, sinking slowly through the water. As they manoeuvred the whaleboat above him, Cameron tied a slip knot into one end of the coir rope and dived fully clothed into the water.

  He arrowed straight down, towards the blurred image of the copper green helmet. He looped the rope over Simeon's legs.

  They were already at three fathoms. Would the rope be long enough? Cameron felt his own lungs bursting for air. He struck for the surface, clutching the other end of the rope.

  Cameron broke the water, gasping, and threw the rope to Wes who made the end fast round the thwart. Ramus and Hassan pulled Cameron aboard. As he lay gasping in the bottom of the boat Wes and the two Malays hauled on the rope and got Simeon back to the surface.

  Trying to lift him clear of the water, with the heavy helmet and corselet on his shoulders, would be impossible. Instead, they lashed Simeon to the stern and Wes jumped in and unscrewed the face glass. It was smeared with blood.

  Wes peered inside the helmet. Simeon did not seem to be breathing and his face was swollen and black.

  'Mebbe too late,' Wes said.

  Cameron crawled to the stern, on his hands and knees. 'I'll nae let him die after all this trouble. Back to the Roebuck, quick!'

  ***

  Simeon remembered nothing of the Roebuck's run for Broome. When he finally came out of his delirium, he found himself lying in a Heinke decompression chamber in the hospital. He saw faces peering at him through a glass at the end of the cha
mber. He tried to move and screamed. The joints in his groin and his shoulders felt as if they had been prised apart with a blunt instrument.

  He was alive. How?

  It must have been the white boss. Wes had told him once that his skipper had never lost a man at sea. Somehow he must have found a way to save him.

  He remembered his pearl and his fingers clutched at his throat. The kerchief was still there and he felt the knotted hardness of his treasure. It was still there!

  His swollen lips broke into a grin and fresh blood oozed out, staining his teeth. Anna!

  'Sorry, Mister Boss,' he whispered to the silence of the empty chamber. 'I owe you my life. But I still must have your pearl!'

  Chapter 22

  It was sunset. There was the smell of cooking from the foreshore, curry and blatchan mixed with the taint of the nearby mangroves and the saltwater tide. On the bay two ancient Malay fishermen, dungarees rolled up to their knees, rowed a dinghy back to the beach. The click-click of the oarlocks carried clearly on the water. They beached the dinghy and padded back to their hut, carrying a yard long barramundi strung on one of the oars.

  Anna came out of the shack and went to the rainwater tank to fill her bucket. A hand reached out and grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the shadows.

  'Simeon!'

  He pulled her towards him and kissed her on the lips. But when he tried to explore the hot, sweet mouth with his tongue she pushed him away.

  She stared at him, wide-eyed with outrage and excitement. 'What do you think you're doing?' She threw an apprehensive glance towards the doorway of her family's shack.

  'I love you,' Simeon whispered.

  'You're out of your mind.'

  'I'm on fire for you, Anna. I burn every day.'