Tears of the Moon - Di Morrissey [154]
As the Japanese mourners knelt on the shore chanting prayers to the slow beat of a drum, the hundreds of small lights glided out across the bay with the tide.
Further down the bay, the red and black schooner slipped from Dampier Creek and sailed towards the sea.
Amy stood on the deck, watching the receding lights of Broome and the fleet of tiny lights bobbing across the bay and she was seized by a fleeting moment of doubt.
Karl Gunther joined her. ‘Second thoughts?’
‘Bit late for that, isn’t it?’
‘Yes. It is. But if you don’t gamble, you don’t win either,’ shrugged Gunther.
‘I prefer sure things when that’s possible,’ answered Amy.
‘I thought you’d figured that out by now, Amy. Nothing is sure in this life. It’s all a big game … so play with the winners.’
‘Are we going to be winners, Karl?’
‘We have the pearls, we have a plan, we have a chance to make big money. Like I said, nothing’s sure. But I’d say we are ahead of the game.’
Amy didn’t respond at once, again thinking through her position. She had more to gain gambling on Karl Gunther than staying in Broome. Besides, she’d burned her bridges there, so she was ready to confront whatever lay ahead.
As the boat picked up a freshening breeze and heeled slightly to port, Amy took hold of a shroud and looked out to sea and the rising moon. She suddenly felt buoyant, excited and tremendously alive. Turning to look at Gunther at the helm, she said brightly, ’You’re right, Karl. We’re ahead of the game.’
When Rosminah returned late at night from the Matsuri festival, she found the door to Tyndall’s bedroom ajar. She ventured in, it was quite dark—no light was burning and the blinds were drawn. Slowly her eyes adjusted and she became aware of Tyndall slumped across the bed, one arm dangling towards the floor, his breathing shallow and hoarse. The small phial of brown liquid was empty, tipped on its side, as was a glass. There was a small pool of water beside the bed. She rushed for the doctor.
As the sun rose, Tyndall passed the critical period. The doctor rubbed his eyes and smiled at Ahmed, sitting on the other side of the bed. ‘He’ll be all right. Luckily he didn’t take the rest of the laudanum. It must have spilled when he reached for the water. Any more would have stopped his breathing.’
‘You think she give him too much?’
‘You’ll have to ask Mrs Tyndall that question. Maybe she didn’t understand my directions clearly. I’ll arrange for a competent nursing woman to stay with him.’
As soon as the doctor had left and Tyndall was settled, Ahmed began searching for Amy.
By mid-morning he had learned she had sailed with Karl Gunther. She’d left the house on the cliff, taking her personal effects with her. From waterfront gossip he learned Gunther was heading to the Far East on an ‘extended trip’.
Ahmed nodded to himself and said a quick prayer of thanks to Allah. This news would no doubt hasten Tyndall’s recovery.
Sergeant O’Leary called out to Tyndall as his boots thumped on the verandah.
The Chinese cook appeared, nodding and smiling. ‘Master in back garden. You likee tea?’
‘Something a bit stronger thanks, Ah Sing. Bring the whisky. Two glasses.’
He walked through the house and into the garden to find Tyndall stretched out in a hammock under shady trees.
‘G’day, Sean,’ he called cheerfully and gestured to a wicker chair. ‘Make yourself comfortable. Did you tell Ah Sing to bring drinks?’
‘Indeed I did, even though ‘tis a bit early in the day. Sun still not over the yardarm as they say in your line of business.’
‘To hell with the yardarm.’
Ah Sing padded up with the bottle, glasses and a jug of cold water. As O’Leary poured, Tyndall slowly hoisted himself out of the hammock and joined the policeman. ‘I suppose you’ve come to get a statement.’
‘Just a formality, John. Coroner will decide if anything else has to be done. Great shame losing the Shamrock. All in all you’re not having a