Pearls

by Colin Falconer

  Then he heard him sit up, roll out of his bunk and slide to the floor. He felt his hot breath on his face. 'Simeon? You awake?'

  'What is it?'

  'Can't sleep. The pain's terrible.'

  'Have you tried the cadjeput oil?'

  'Doesn't help. Nothing helps. Have to get back into my suit and go down. Need you to help me.'

  Simeon got up and slipped a sarong about his waist. Huey was in a bad way. He had to support him on his shoulder to the scuttle.

  The deck was washed in silver from a three quarter moon. As Simeon climbed out of the scuttle he sensed a movement behind him. He turned, instinctively raising an arm above his head.

  The marlin spike crunched down on his forearm, snapping it like a dry stick. He screamed in agony and fell back among the loops of coir rope. He kept rolling as the heavy iron came down again, splintering the decking inches from his head where it stuck fast.

  He called to Huey for help but then his friend was on top of him and he shrieked again as Huey pulled his shattered arm behind his back. Through the pain he saw Hanaguchi twist the marlin spike free of the decking and heft it above his head. Simeon tried to twist away but Huey had his arm and there was nothing he could do.

  Mother of God!

  ***

  Cameron lay on his bunk, his hands folded behind his head. The cell door swung open and Sergeant Clarke put his head in. 'Cameron, you've got a visitor.' He ushered George Niland into the cell.

  'I dinnae want to see him, thank you, Sergeant.'

  'But Cam. We're old friends. I just want to say goodbye.'

  'Goodbye George,' Cameron said. 'I dinnae intend tae get up. Now I'd be obliged if you left me in peace.'

  'I understand that you're bitter. But I did everything I could. You only have yourself to blame.'

  'Get him out of here, Sergeant.'

  Clarke hesitated. He touched George on the shoulder. 'If you wouldn't mind, sir. There doesn't seem to be any point.'

  'My wife wanted me to say goodbye too, Cameron. She says she will say a prayer for the repose of your soul every ...'

  Cameron leaped to his feet and lunged at him. Clarke stepped in quickly shoving Cameron back onto his bunk. Then he bundled George quickly out of the door.

  'Get that man out of my sight!' Cameron shouted.

  He threw himself back on his cot. He caught a glimpse of George for just a moment, standing behind Clarke, smiling. Then the door slammed shut.

  Cameron closed his eyes and settled down to wait for his last, long day in Broome to end.

  ***

  Simeon heard a bellow of rage and an enormous shadow fell across the deck. Someone lifted Huey Fong off his back and threw him head first into the scuppers. Wes!

  He scrambled back onto his knees. Hanaguchi still had the marlin spike but he was wary of the big West Indian bos'un. He backed away, in a fighting crouch. Then he raised it over his head and swung it at the big West Indian.

  Simeon yelled a warning and launched himself across the deck. He hit the Japanese in the midriff, taking him off balance. The heavy iron dropped onto the deck, then he and Siosuki hit rammed against the port bulwark and toppled over the side into the water.

  He surfaced, choking. He flailed out with his good arm, trying to reach the Ilsa; his left hung useless in the water, like a dead weight.

  But then Hanaguchi grabbed him, pushed his head under the water. He fought desperately, but Siosuki had him fast from behind, and he had two good arms to fight with. His chest heaved. He didn't understand this. Huey Fong had done this! He understood why the Japanese wanted to kill him. But Huey was his friend.

  Why?

  He could not fight any more. His lungs were bursting. He coughed underwater and his whole body writhed as he started to choke. He made one last feeble attempt to get free but then the world faded to black. As the agony receded he saw the white boss Flynn holding out his hand for him.

  He thought about Cameron. He didn't understand. Why did the Virgin want two deaths when there should only be one?

  ***

  But then something hammered into his side and threw him up out of the water. He gasped and coughed, water burning out of his nose and mouth. The Ilsa was just a few feet away but even that was too far. He had no strength left. He sank under the water.

  But then a huge hand grabbed his shirt and pulled him towards the rope ladder on the hull. More hands reached for him, dragging him aboard. He screamed when someone pulled on his shattered arm but no sound came, just a terrible gurgling that bubbled in his throat as he retched up the seawater in his stomach.

  He lay on the deck, gasping, and racked with convulsions. Someone sat on his back, tried to pump the water out of his chest. Why didn't Flynn let him die?

  ***

  Wes massaged Simeon's back. He vomited up what looked like a pint of seawater then took a long, shuddering gasp of air. His arm was at a crazy angle to his body.

  He went to the port gunwale where the crew were staring at something that was floating on the sea in the moonlight. It looked like a human limb, or part of one. Then something broke the surface and there was a snuffling sound like a pig at a trough and it disappeared.

  'Shark,' one of the Koepangers muttered, and made the sign for the evil eye.

  'Flynn,' Simeon gasped. 'It was Flynn.'

  Chapter 39

  Huey Fong had split open his forehead on the capstan. He lay unconscious on Simeon's bunk, blood oozing from under a thick bandage. Wes had assumed charge of the Ilsa. With their cook dead, their number two diver half-crazy and crippled and the master and first diver badly injured, there was nothing to do but to head back to port. The Malays and the three Japanese wanted to be off her as soon as possible. The ship was possessed by bad spirits. Wes doubted if anyone would be persuaded to sail on her again.

  It was morning when he finally opened his eyes. He rolled onto his side and Wes held a bucket under his chin while he vomited.

  'I ought to kill you now,' Simeon growled.

  Wes pushed him away. 'Mebbe but you ain't.'

  Huey groaned and looked up at Wes. 'Where's Hanaguchi?'

  'He be dead, boy.'

  'He was crazy.'

  'You tried to kill me,' Simeon said. He made to grab him with his good arm; the other was strapped into a sling. Wes pushed him back. 'You tell me why, maybe I won't tear out your guts for you!'

  Huey raised a hand weakly in the air. He couldn't remember. His head was splitting open. Leave me alone.

  He slept. When he woke up the bastards were still sitting there. Slowly it came back to him. Well, he could say goodbye to George Niland's bonus now. Better not say anything about that. Maybe Niland would pay him even more to keep his mouth shut now that everything had gone bad. Best try and get out of this any way he could.

  'It was Hanaguchi. I didn't know he was going to use the iron ...'

  Simeon drew his knife. 'Let me cut him up a little, I'll get the truth.'

  Wes caught his wrist and squeezed. Simeon yelped and the knife dropped to the floor. 'Mebbe better you go topside,' Wes told him. 'We all in 'nuff damn trubble without any more, hokkay?'

  Simeon backed off but he pointed at Fong and said: 'I will even with you.'

  Wes gave him a push. 'Topside,' he said.

  The Manilaman spat on the deck and disappeared up the scuttle.

  'Mebbe you tell me 'bout dis ting,' Wes said.

  'It was like I tell you. Hanaguchi said he just wanted to get even, I didn't think he was going to use the spike.'

  'Simeon's a friend of yourn.'

  Huey Fong just shrugged. His head! Everything so foggy, making it hard to think. 'George said that...'

  'George? What George?'

  'I mean the Jappo ...'

  'You said George!'

  'I swear I didn't know he was gonna hurt him bad.'

  'When I comes up da scuttle you is sittin' on him while Hanaguchi is set to beat his brains out wid da spike! What that look like to you, fella?
That he was gonna tickle him wid it?'

  Huey couldn't think straight. He was soaked in sweat. The one thing he mustn't let anyone know was that he was the one who took his pearl. If he did, he was dead, for sure.

  Wes shook his head. 'Dat debil he got a special place for fellas like you, boy. He gonna fry you real slow.'

  Wes picked Simeon's knife up off the floor. He stopped by the scuttle, a frown on his face. 'Not George, the big white boss?'

  Huey shook his head. Shouldn't have done that. The room started to spin.

  'You a lying snake,' Wes said. 'Mebbe I should give Simeon back his knife.'

  ***

  Roebuck Bay glimmered in the sun. To the north the gentle green slopes of Gantheaume Point slid beneath the sea. To the south lay Dampier Creek, the skeleton of an abandoned schooner rotting among the mangroves like the bones of some ancient dinosaur. A flight of pelicans glided overhead.

  Wes rowed with his back towards the blood-red shore. Simeon sat facing him, his arm in a sling, whispering the story of Patrick Flynn's death.

  After he had finished, Wes continued to row, same steady pace, saying nothing. The click of the oarlocks and the rippling of the water were the only sounds. Simeon did not want to think about death any more on such a still and beautiful morning but he knew that if he did not confess the ghost of the white boss Flynn would haunt him everywhere he went.

  'I doan know, boy,' Wes said finally. He heaved on the oars again, his chest muscles rippling in time with each stroke. 'I doan know if I loves you or hates you reet now. You gonna save de skipper, but it was you put his head in de noose.'

  'Didn't mean for him to get the blame.'

  Wes paused for a moment to lift his right hand from the oar and touch the ju-ju at his neck. 'Well he did and dat is when you should have spoke up.'

  'You do me one favour?'

  'Mebbe.'

  'Huey Fong. He gotta pay too.'

  Wes shook his head. 'I doan know, boy, mebbe I bust his head when I get de chance, but Wes is a lover, not a killer.'

  'Do it for me, Wes.'

  'You got folk hyar in de town, boy. Let yo' kin do what has to be done.'

  They beached the dinghy on the foreshore and Simeon waded into the ankle-deep water. Wes shook his head. Look at him all beat up and with that scared look on his face, he looked like a kid just out of school. Jay-sus!

  But this was his day to die.

  Simeon turned around. 'You take care now, Wes.'

  Wes nodded. What was there to say? A man about to sign his own death warrant had no use for the good luck. He watched him pad bare-foot up the dunes towards the town. He stopped once to stare down at the Lacey camp, looking for a last glimpse of her. Then he disappeared over the rise and went to look for Sergeant Clarke.

  Chapter 40

  The Centaur, with its familiar black hull and blue funnel, was moored at the end of the long jetty. It was just in from Singapore and would be leaving within the hour to catch the tide. The day before it was to be Cameron's death boat; now he stood on the jetty a free man. After Simeon's confession, the Governor had immediately issued an official pardon.

  Cameron searched the crowd milling around the gangway. Everyone was staring back at him - he was a celebrity now, of sorts. He ignored the shouts of congratulation with the same indifference as the cold stares of those still not convinced of his innocence. The crowd - government officials, clerks, veranda pearlers, one of them a member of the jury that had declared him a murderer - parted to let him through.

  'Rosie.'

  When she saw him she shouted his name and threw her arms around his neck.

  He managed to untangle himself. He nodded at the trunk by her feet. 'I heard you were leaving, lass.'

  'I can't stay here. I hate this place now.'

  He wiped away her tears with the back of his hand. 'Bonnie faithful Rose,' he said.

  'People are looking.'

  'Let them look all they want.'

  'I'm sorry. I let you down.'

  'You dinnae let me down.'

  'In court ... I tried ...'

  'I dinnae understand, lass.'

  'Understand?'

  'Why I'm placed so highly in your affections. I dinnae think I deserve it.'

  'Cam I ...'

  'Stay here with me.'

  'What?'

  'Stay here, Rosie. Dinnae run away. Abide here and marry me.'

  Her mouth fell open in surprise. She wanted desperately to say no to him. How could he love her? She had been his whore, he had left his money by her bed. There was only one reason for this sudden and unexpected declaration of love; they had just taken the death hood from his face and he wasn't thinking right. She knew he didn't really love her, at least, not the way he had loved the Niland woman. Perhaps he felt he owed her something.

  'I love you, Cam. You know that. But I ...'

  'Then marry me.'

  She had to refuse. It was the only right thing for both of them. And yet, if he loved her, if only a little, it would be enough for her.

  She nodded, hating herself for it.

  He swept her up in his arms. You are so weak, Rosie Thompson, she thought. Weak, weak. She hoped she wouldn't regret it.

  ***

  Kendo stared at the plates on the table with a look of reproach. They had hardly touched their fish, a barramundi caught fresh just that day. 'No good, missus?' he said to Kate.

  'Thank you, Kendo, it was delicious, but I'm just not hungry.'

  George nodded, indicating that he should remove the plates.

  Kendo busied himself clearing the dinner table. Something wrong here. The missus had been off her food for weeks, and now the boss had lost his appetite, too. At this rate they wouldn't need a cook much longer.

  Oh well, all the more for him and Liddy.

  George waited until Kendo had left the room and then turned to his wife. 'You've heard the news?'

  Kate nodded.

  'I would have thought you would be celebrating.'

  'Let's not go through all that again.'

  George toyed with his moustache. He moved his dessert spoon to the side, then tapped it back into place again. 'It's intolerable that this ... nigger ... whoever it is ... should have kept quiet for so long. And I refuse to believe your father traded in snide pearls.'

  'Everyone trades in snides, George.'

  'I hope you don't include me among their number.'

  'No, of course not.'

  He drummed on the edge of the table with his fingers. 'Well at least we know what happened.'

  'I don't care what happened. My father's dead. Nothing will change that.'

  'I blame Clarke personally. If he'd done his job ...'

  There was a commotion at the front door. Kate heard Liddy shouting and then the door banged open. They Kendo's voice added to the affray. Kate heard a man's voice, deep and very angry.

  'Cameron,' Kate said.

  George leaped to his feet and ran into his study. A moment later Cameron appeared in the doorway of the dining room, Liddy still tugging at his jacket, Kendo trying to block the way.

  Kate got to her feet. 'It's all right,' she said. 'He may come in.'

  Liddy fled. Kendo, who remembered Cameron as the white boss who had saved his life the night of the riots, immediately stood back, relieved. He bowed formally to Cameron and went back to the kitchen.

  Cameron removed his hat. 'Hello, Kate.'

  'What do you want, Cam?'

  He looked none the worse for his ordeal over the last few months. A little pale, perhaps. 'I want to see your husband.'

  'What do you want with him?'

  Cameron ignored the question, cocking his head to one side. 'You look thin, lass. I hope you've nae been worried on my account.'

  At that moment George reappeared holding a revolver.

  'Why, hello George,' Cameron said.

  'Get out of here.' It came out as a squeak.

  'Would you really shoot me now, George. Would you?'
<
br />   'Get out.'

  'It's all right, I dinnae intend to stay long. I just wanted you to know that I found out about you and Huey Fong. You put him up to it, didn't you? To keep that Manilaman diver quiet.'

  'I don't know what you're talking about.'

  Cameron leaned forward, so that the muzzle of the revolver touched his chest. 'What goes around, comes around.'

  The gun shook in his George's hand and for one dreadful moment Kate imagined she saw her husband's finger tighten around the trigger. But then Cameron turned away and walked out, and moments later the front door slammed behind him.

  Kate ran after him. 'More revenge, Cam?' she called from the veranda.

  He stopped on the path and turned around. 'With good reason.'

  'There's always a reason, isn't there? God forbid you should ever just walk away and get on with your life.'

  'Why did you nae come?' he said.

  She didn't answer him. He walked away, the shell grit crunching under his boots.

  ***

  Laughter from the pearler's bungalows echoed across the foreshore and a fish broke the surface of the water with a loud plop! somewhere out in the bay. The white finger of the Ghost Light, the beacon on Buccaneer Rock, searched the dark sea for unwary captains.

  Huey Fong made his way back through the dunes to Lacey's camp. He had quit Niland's fleet after the Ilsa and gone back to work for Lacey. One more season and he would go home to Manila; or maybe move on to Darwin and get a job on a lugger there. He had heard the pearls were not as plentiful but the shell was better.

  Not as much chance of a knife in the ribs either.

  He trudged towards the cluster of lamp-lit shacks, where another dark-skinned Adonis was strumming on a guitar. The plaintive chords made him think of Simeon. Poor Simeon. Put his head in a noose for some white boss. What a fool.

  He stumbled. Too much arrack again. Well, it was his last chance for a while. Tomorrow he would be back out on the pearling grounds and a long time before the next big drunk. He would be glad when he was finished with this life.