Tears of the Moon - Di Morrissey [136]
‘I have one. Although he doesn’t treat me like a wife. You do have marital rights you know.’ She dropped her eyes and Tyndall glared at her. How did she manage to sound so demure and yet look so provocative?
One night, drunk, lonely and longing for Olivia’s arms he had felt overwhelmed by sheer sexual urge and had walked to the house. He had stood, looking up at the lattice-screened dovecote built at the top of the house for such hot humid nights. Knowing Amy was asleep up there, he’d been tempted to go to her, but desire had turned to bitter anger and he’d resorted to Sheba Lane. There, as thoughts of Olivia flooded through him, he had wilted, sadness and hopelessness replacing the fierce fires of passion and he trudged dispiritedly back to his own empty bed.
Looking now at Amy, it was as if she knew about this and that one day she knew he might succumb to her. But she merely replied, ‘I have nowhere else to go, Johnny. I’ll wait.’
Tyndall left, defeated. There was no more to say.
But Amy was far from triumphant. The brazen facade with which she challenged him fell away and she retreated to the bedroom. Falling amongst her pillows, she glanced out at the bay below. The tide was out. Green mangroves and grey skeletons of dead mangrove trees rose from the mudflats. She suddenly felt as if a moat lay between her and the rest of the world. She felt trapped, bored and lonely. Why did she stay? She had been unable to seduce Tyndall and he still controlled the finances. If she could get her hands on the money, which had been her original intention, she could escape. Her dream of teaming up with her handsome husband and leading a life of luxury and excitement in Australia had not come to pass. She had always seen Tyndall as a ticket to a better life, yet in her eyes he had failed her. In the past, she had grasped many opportunities in a life dictated by lust and greed, but they had proved only temporary indulgences.
As she tossed restlessly on the bed, she realised that her options for happiness in Broome were very limited indeed.
Tyndall was fed up. His anger, frustration and the constant worry about what Amy was up to—for she created agitated waves about her as she sailed through her days—were getting him down. As always, his solution was to go to sea.
He left Ahmed ashore, taking the Shamrock with a minimum of crew out to the pearling grounds to victual his luggers and try the grounds further north once more. It was agreed that Ahmed would rendezvous with him in four weeks’ time.
The trip proved a blessed relief for Tyndall. The companionship of the crew, the routine of the days at sea, the peace that always came to him as he looked across blue water and cloud-tinged sky. The steady rhythmic movement of the boat, the rattle of the rigging and the sighing flap of a wind-filled sail—all these things calmed his aching mind.
After two weeks Tyndall decided to leave the rest of the fleet and do a little searching up towards the Lapecede Islands.
It was easy sailing for the first two days, then the weather closed in. Rain and high winds lashed the Shamrock, but it ploughed gamely on as Tyndall checked the chart and gave instructions to the first mate.
Late that night Tyndall checked course, spoke to the crew, then went below to snatch a few hours’ sleep. ‘Wake me if the wind rises or the swell gets worse, we could run into a cockeye bob.’
‘Aye aye, Cap’n. No worries.’ The thin and dark-skinned Koepanger gave a confident grin.
He never did get a chance to wake Tyndall. The Shamrock was picked up by a freak wave in the storm, breached and was flung beam on into a reef with a sickening crunch. The impact threw the two men on deck off balance and the next wave washed them overboard. Waves lashed over the schooner which lay on its side, the sharp edges of the reef slicing through the wood. A stockily built Manilaman crawled out of the hatch. At that instant, one of the dinghies broke loose and crashed into him, knocking him unconscious and pushing him into the sea. The dinghy then splintered and was swept away. All men were