Tears of the Moon - Di Morrissey [54]
Ahmed took the plump shell and, using a broad flat knife, inserted it deftly into the muscle that held the two halves of the shell tightly together. Rolling his fingers into the rubbery visceral flesh enclosed in the fold of tissue known as the mantle, he pulled out a small, odd–shaped pearl. Being a baroque pearl, it was of little value, he explained but, nevertheless, Olivia was delighted and fascinated by the strange creature revealed to her. She paid rapt attention as Ahmed identified the parts, using both the Malay and English words, which Olivia repeated carefully and committed to memory. The Koepangers began to feel relaxed with the white woman and chuckled at her studied repetition of the Malay words. Ahmed showed her the strong adductor muscles that joined the two half shells and the fringe of fine hairs which strained the water flowing into it, capturing the plankton and oxygen.
She tried her hand at opening a shell, an effort that reduced the crew to laughter as the shell remained stubbornly and tightly shut. This failed attempt caused several cuts to her hands, which she, too, laughed about.
‘Nothing serious,’ she said, wiping them with her handkerchief. ‘All part of the learning process, but I think I’ll leave this part of the operation to you.’
Olivia took to visiting the foreshore camp each day, sometimes bringing a tiffin carrier of food from her Chinese cook for the crew. It was an uncommon gesture and news of her deed travelled quickly through two communities. The whites who heard about it raised their eyebrows and pointed to the sun and muttered about ‘spoiling them’. The Asian pearling community accepted the gesture with puzzlement but respect; the new white lady in town was certainly a curiosity.
As part of the daily routine she arranged to pass on to Conrad the tally of the day’s work and the little bag of fairly ordinary pearls, mainly baroque, that the shells yielded. The onshore work was completed a week after they arrived back in port. As Olivia left the shed that day, she wished the crew as much success on their next trip. While walking her to the door, Ahmed noticed an unopened oyster amid the debris on the floor and absently picked it up. He thanked her, as he always did, for the food.
‘Think nothing of it, Ahmed. It gives me an excuse to stay a little longer in the shed in the hope of being there when you find a really worthwhile pearl.’
‘Sorry, mem. Maybe next time,’ he said consolingly. He turned to walk back into the shed, then paused and pulled out his knife to open the oyster. He probed the flesh and knew the moment his fingers touched it that this was no ordinary pearl … it was a real gem. He rolled it around in his palm … a beautiful mellow gold–toned pearl of at least twenty– four grains, glowing with what seemed to be an inner light.
‘Ah, Allah is great,’ he whispered, then ran to the door and was about to call to Olivia, who was now down the track that led back into town, when he hesitated, pocketed the pearl, and threw the shell in a bag. The Koepangers exchanged glances, but said nothing.
Conrad was elated at the figures in his ledger and the collection of pearls which he kept in a small locked cash box that he took home each night.
‘On paper at least we’re doing nicely,’ enthused Conrad as he and Olivia made their way to the Continental Hotel where they often took lunch. ‘Of course, we have a lot of expenses coming up, crew wages when they are paid off, boat repairs, and so on, but I must say things are looking up.’
Over lunch Conrad broached the subject of her visits to the camp. ‘It’s not really necessary, you know. Ahmed can be trusted to bring me the