Tears of the Moon - Di Morrissey [55]
Olivia very deliberately took a spoonful of soup before replying. ‘I know he could, Conrad, but as I’ve said before I’m part of this business and I’m learning quite a lot. The men have taken to telling me a lot of stories about pearling and pearlers. Some of them are funny, some of them very tragic. It’s really fascinating, Conrad, and I want to keep doing it.’
Conrad felt awkward. Some chaps at the club had made a couple of remarks about her visits to the shell camp which clearly indicated that town gossips were at work. ‘It’s just that, well, some people find it a bit odd, dear.’
‘I imagine they do, but they will have to get used to it,’ said Olivia determinedly, then changed the subject. ‘That Ahmed is an impressive man. I’d trust him with my life, I think.’
Conrad took up the theme, glad to avoid any further tension with his wife. ‘He’s certainly devoted to John and works very hard. Funny business though, he doesn’t seem to want much for himself. Probably has something to do with being a Muslim. He’s always praying. Bit off–putting, I must say. John saved his life, you know. I suppose that’s why he is so devoted to him.’
During the following week Tyndall and Ahmed made changes to the rigging and storage on the lugger, innovations they devised from experience at sea and actually working the boat for the first time. Before setting out on the next trip Tyndall and Conrad asked Olivia to join them at the Continental for lunch.
‘An unexpected pleasure, Captain Tyndall,’ said Olivia after they had ordered and the waiter had poured glasses of champagne.
‘For me as well, it’s a special occasion.’
‘Oh, then that explains the champagne. But what is the excuse for such a midday extravagance?’
Tyndall reached into his pocket and passed a small cloth pouch to Olivia. ‘The first return on your investment,’ he said nonchalantly.
She looked at Conrad who was smiling. ‘Well, open it,’ he urged her.
Olivia picked up the bag and shook out into the palm of her hand a large pearl set in a gold ring. She gasped.
‘Ahmed found it. Said it was in the last shell he opened,’ explained Conrad. ‘We all agreed that you should have it.’
Olivia looked at them both in gratitude, momentarily lost for words. She slipped the ring on to her right hand, admired it, then looked at them both. ‘It’s so lovely. Thank you both very much. And Ahmed.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
Olivia had taken to walking along the seafront at sunset, watching the red ball of the sun slip into the brilliant turquoise waters of Roebuck Bay. The colour of the water fascinated her as did the activity around Streeter’s Jetty, a straggling long wooden wharf, built by the English pearler of that name, through the mangroves near the path that led to the three native wells east of Dampier Creek when the town was still a bush settlement. It was here that the luggers offloaded their hauls. When the great drop of the tide ran out, the luggers rested on their rounded beams. To Olivia it was as if some hurricane or tidal wave had swept through, tossing the sturdy boats to one side as it passed.
There was always activity around the area as the crews swarmed about the boats either unloading or preparing for sea. Olivia knew she was being watched with suspicion and curiosity by the many races working, shouting and singing as they went about sailmaking, repairing, sorting shell, loading and offloading cargo. But they gradually became used to the beautiful white lady who, unlike the other white women, wandered amongst them watching everything with interest, exchanging shy smiles with them and greeting them in Malay.
One sunset on the full tide she saw the Bulan sail back in with Tyndall at the helm. She walked the length of the jetty as they moored. Seeing her, Tyndall raised his skipper’s hat, giving her a salute and a thumbs-up sign. ‘How did you know I was coming in? You just knew I’d made a good haul and thought you’d check up on your investment, eh?’
Olivia laughed. ‘Pure coincidence, I can assure you, although Ahmed did say this morning that you were due any