Tears of the Moon - Di Morrissey [29]
As she pondered these possibilities a blur of movement at the edge of her vision suddenly caught her attention. For a moment she thought it was an animal. There was a brief flash of colour, then in a gap between the trees she saw a dark naked man. Olivia couldn’t quite believe her eyes. There was no doubting it—he had her straw bonnet bouncing merrily on his buttocks, its red ribbons tied across his belly. She hastily moved to stare back at the beach and saw to her dismay two other natives standing once again by her wicker hamper which had held her damp clothing. One had a petticoat tied around his matted hair and the other was holding up one of her best high-button kid boots in some puzzlement.
‘Shoo! Go away!’ Olivia advanced in outrage, then dashed back to fetch the revolver. After fumbling with it, she managed to fire a shot in the general direction of the two Aborigines on the beach.
They raced away, clutching her clothing.
With trembling knees, Olivia tried to think calmly what to do next. Still carrying the revolver, she began to gather up the clothes she’d spread to dry. She was stooping awkwardly to pick up undergarments off the sand when from behind her came a shout.
‘Hoy there!’
Dropping the clothes, Olivia spun around and levelled the revolver in the direction of the voice. She was surprised to see the tall figure of a white man coming from the direction of the Utile headland. He wore a woven straw hat and loose white shirt with breeches and boots. She also saw the holstered gun stuck at his side and knew this man was no shipwreck survivor. As he strode towards her she saw, following some distance behind, a smaller man of oriental appearance with straight black hair and a strange small hat.
Her first impression of the white man was that he seemed quite at ease and was strikingly handsome despite the stubble on his face. He was tall and dark with a rosy glow to his generous smiling mouth and tanned cheeks that showed off his sky blue eyes. He kept his curling hair longer than most men favoured but he was most recognisable by the large pearl he wore threaded through his left earlobe. It took only seconds to absorb all this and she was instantly alert and fearful as she recalled the captain of the Lady Charlotte telling them tales of the unsavoury and often dangerous rogues who sailed the waters of northern Australia. He’d spoken of groups of unscrupulous beachcombers trading in illicit liquor, women and whatever they could find or steal to sell to passing boats.
‘Who are you? What do you want?’ she called to the advancing man.
He stopped and stared at the revolver pointed at him.
‘What do I want?’ he queried in a bemused voice. ‘Madam, I thought you might be the one in need. Please have no fear.’ He raised his arms above his head in mock surrender.
Olivia blushed, realising she was still pointing the revolver at him and lowered it to her side. Her relief at seeing a white man was still tempered by nervousness and she noted he approached her just as cautiously.
‘How did you manage to come ashore safely when it seems all others have perished?’ Without pausing he answered his own question as he noticed her protruding belly previously screened by the pile of clothes. ‘Ah I see, in your condition you were given favoured status.’
‘Not so,’ Olivia swiftly snapped back.
They both stared at one another. She recognised his Irish brogue though it had something of a Yankee twang to it, she thought. But he was well spoken and courteous. They exchanged a brief smile.
Now he could observe her closely, he thought her very pretty with a pert nose, green eyes and full lips.
‘Madam, I have to ask if you are all right? I am Captain John Tyndall. I have my boat in the next cove. I came ashore when I saw the wreck on the reef.’
Olivia swallowed, thinking of the acquaintances and crew they’d known so briefly and who had met such an untimely end. ‘Did no one survive?’ she asked.
‘None, I’m afraid. This coast is littered with unmarked reefs, it is hazardous