Tears of the Moon - Di Morrissey [45]
There was a slight cough and a gentle male voice, ‘Mrs Hennessy … words fail me … ’
She slowly raised her head and gazed into the concerned eyes of Captain John Tyndall. He squatted on his heels beside her, taking off his hat. She made no response and barely acknowledged his presence.
‘I brought your supplies and hoped to find you progressing well … I didn’t expect to discover this … this tragedy. I would like to say something to comfort you, but … ’ The wounded expression in her eyes, her crumpled body by her baby’s grave, touched him deeply. He remembered her vitality and strength, alone on the beach after she had given birth. He reached out and took her hand and patted it in a gesture of comfort.
She finally spoke in a whisper. ‘He wasn’t christened. We wanted to call him James. He won’t go to Heaven … he’ll be left here … all alone … ’ Tears rolled down her cheeks.
Tyndall felt helpless then tightened his grip on her hand. ‘The Aboriginal women who helped you when you gave birth … tell me, did they do a little ceremony?’
She nodded and told him briefly as best she could of the ritual she’d seen. A small light seemed to glow in her eyes and she studied him intently. ‘What did it mean?’ she asked.
‘It means your son is safe. He has returned to his spiritual home. That was a birth ceremony, they believe that the spirit returns to its place of birth, its Dreaming place. A place where he will find peace and joy and return to his own spirit world. Your son was christened without a doubt, Mrs Hennessy … Aboriginal style.’
She stared at him, her face softening with relief for an instant. She started to look back at the grave but Tyndall took her arm and helped her to her feet. ‘Let’s go back to the camp,’ he said softly. ‘I’ll help you both back to town and you can stay at my house as long as you like. I will stay on my boat.’ He anticipated her protest. ‘No, I assure you it won’t be an inconvenience. I’m busy making some changes on board for a new enterprise.’
He held her arm supportively in his and they walked in silence back to the tent Conrad had set up near the ruins of the cottage. Conrad was tending to the horses from Tyndall’s dray but his shoulders drooped and he moved with little energy. He suddenly looked an old man. Olivia walked to the tent while Tyndall approached Conrad at the wagon. Reaching into a bag under the seat, he pulled out a bottle.
‘The sun isn’t over the yardarm, Mr Hennessy,’ he said brandishing the bottle, ‘but I declare it is nevertheless time for you and me to have a little something that braces the spirit.’
He picked up two enamel mugs from beside the fire, tossed out the dregs of tea and poured a couple of stiff slugs of rum. The two men walked back to the dray and sat in its shade against a wheel, their legs stretched out in the dirt.
‘To the future, Mr Hennessy,’ said Tyndall softly, raising his mug in salute.
Conrad looked at him with glazed eyes, fighting back tears. Slowly he raised his mug. ‘The future,’ he choked a little over his words. ‘The past has so far been a bloody disaster … ever since we arrived in this godforsaken country.’ He forced the mug to his lips and swallowed hard.
Tyndall drank too, then cradled the mug in his hands. ‘Yes, it can be a cruel land, and for you it has been crueller than anyone would expect. But life must go on. What do you plan to do now?’
‘Quit this place,’ snapped Conrad with bitterness. ‘I doubt we really have the skill or the will now to make a go of it. Perhaps there is some opportunity in town. I still have some capital left.’
Tyndall said nothing for awhile, but sipped thoughtfully at his rum.
‘Well now, that’s an interesting prospect,’ he said at last. ‘You told me about your background when we sailed to Cossack and it seems to me I have a little project that might be just what suits you.’
Conrad stared at him. ‘And what might that be?’
‘Pearling my friend, pearling.’
Inside the tent Olivia carefully